Lara Swift is Colonized Ch. 04

For even this minuscule win, Lara was happy. Even better: the cell seemed to have cooled off to an appreciable degree while she was obeying Miss Galkowska.

"But you did hesitate, so you will drink from mine. And maybe your own, if you misbehave. That is all."

Lara's spirits were dashed as quickly as they had risen. But the itching took up most of her attention, and she got back to her embarrassing self-stimulation. As she rubbed her sore clit against the dildo, new lines of text appeared on the screen. They read:

"I have been a total bitch to Uncle Errol. I need to make it up to him. It's only right for him to live in the Manor, and if he wants to watch porn we should celebrate that. My actions show that I need him as a guardian, and I should compensate him fairly for his time."

Lara gave a look of rage at the stupid screen. She did NOT want him loafing around her estate, watching his degrading porn all the time, and thinking that he was in control of her life! What sort of life would she have, if he were her guardian? No doubt he would expect her to wait on him, and ask his permission to do anything, and otherwise strictly control her life -

The screen flashed that unique red color and the dildo sunk into the floor. Lara was beside herself with anger, and the heat of the room built quickly to punish her natural outrage against accepting this criminal's mastery over her life. The itching between her virgin lips dominated her thinking, and all she could do to distract herself was to imagine herself as a servant girl in all the stupid programs she had watched over the past several days.

The temperature and humidity rose rapidly, agonizing the poor Tomb Liberator. Her young body was soon drenched with sweat. She hoped that the next time the text popped up, she could at least fool them into thinking she had accepted its twisted proposition, and get a chance to soothe herself.

She knew that the only way to get her toy back was to accept the words on the screen as absolute truth. It worried her that as she thought about it again and again, it seemed less offensive and more like a means to an end. Her subconscious did all the legwork, slowly preparing her for a life spent as a pretty decoration for people who would never tire of using her in all of the most egregious ways. She had seen it already: as she became more dependent on others, they would become more derisive towards her. As she became more submissive, they would act more aggressively. Where did it all stop?

The Colombian guard's words echoed in her mind: "it's worse than hell."

She wasn't sure if she could do 16 months in this place. Even 16 hours in this cell was beyond imagining. They were changing her. She knew it. The things they wanted were totally unacceptable, and only served to keep her trapped here by making her confuse her escape with her total self-destruction.

But there was something strong in Lara Swift's mind. Something that refused to break. She thought of her mother: proud and uncompromising. It was a mental locus that she used to withstand extreme conditions before, and it was effective even now. Then she thought of her father's last will and testament, safely locked away in the vault beneath her manor. This was enough to give her the power she needed to prevent herself from utterly breaking down, even if she did feel like she had undergone a dark transformation in that evil womb.

The text appeared on the screen again, and Lara Swift tried to picture submitting to her "Uncle" Erroll without disgust. The best she could manage was quiet despair. Apparently this was satisfactory, because her beloved sex toy appeared, and the cell cooled down, and she felt a slight ease of her torment.

This process continued for quite some time.