Overlord Ch. 05

A particularly loud grunt came through the wall in front of Winston. O'Brien's expression became quizzical, as she scanned the wall until finding the peephole. As she walked up beside Winston to look through it, he saw her swanlike figure, her long golden pony tail, her round, ripe ass with another set of Sergeant stripes held aloft by her red uniform. He gritted his teeth.

"Tsk tsk," she looked through the peephole and made a face, "oh Charrington. He always did like the big bootied gals. At least get some privacy."

Winston saw the muscular inhibitor hanging at her belt, just a foot away from his own waist. It was so close, her hands nowhere near it, if only he could get his arms free...

"Well," she straightened back up, "I'm here to bring you to the place where you'll be staying, at least for the first couple weeks. And since neither of us are busy, well, I thought I'd give you a little housewarming."

She gave each of his buttocks a firm pat, and then a squeeze. She then took a pair of police handcuffs out of her pouch and attached them to his wrists, below the manacles. Next, she pulled out the nerve disruptor and pressed the muzzle into his back while her left hand pressed some buttons on the wall. "No funny business," she said as the manacles opened, letting Winston lower his arms and put his waist back on his feet. Winston's hands were cuffed together, but it felt amazing to be able to move his arms.

She backed away through the door, keeping the inhibitor pointed at him. "Come with me, sweet thing."

He hesitated for a moment. If he resisted, she would paralyze him, and then what? However strong Overlord had made the Disciplinarians, he doubted she could carry him far by herself. Would she leave him in this closet for a few more hours, or would she summon some assistance to drag him into his proper cell. Which would go worse for him, in the long run?

Winston knew he only had seconds to consider all the factors before she grew impatient and fired. He used up perhaps two or three of them before slowly turning around and walking out of his cell, keeping his eyes on hers and his expression neutral.

"In front of me."

She put the muzzle against his back again and guided him into the hallway. The floor was ceramic panels arranged in a flagstone formation. The walls and ceiling were domelike, made of shining chrome, and a row of electric lights hung from the ceiling. A medieval dungeon corridor, reimagined by Overlord.

"How long am I going to be here?" Winston asked as she guided him past one unmarked iron door after the next.

"We won't know that until sentencing. Don't worry though, we'll have plenty of time. Good thing too; there's a couple of other uniformed ladies who'd like their turns, and I don't mind sharing once in a while."

She slapped his ass with her free hand, making him jump forward a bit. She giggled, and he felt his erect penis twitch again. He tried to clear his mind. Have to be aware. Have to think clearly.

They turned corners and descended ramps. Winston tried to remember the way they came, but there was no way; it was too much of a maze. Some of the doors they passed made sounds. Very soft, muffled sounds, but he could still make out speech, yelps, and stranger vocal sounds, as well as the rhythmic reports of discipline. He thought about asking her how many prisoners were down here, but decided against it. Finally, they came to a stop near one of the doors.

"Out of the way a second, hon." She pushed the muzzle into his back and maneuvered him out of her way so she could work at the keypad by the door. A beep, a click, and the door opened, revealing a small room. On one side were a toilet and sink. In the middle was a raised table or slab like the one Maria had been attached to. The synthetic straps were open, waiting for the wrists or ankles of their next victim. He felt a strong, silky hand on the crook of his shoulder, and sharp fingernails digging in. O'Brien leaned against his back, mashing her large breasts against his skin.

"It might not be the most comfy bed," she whispered in his ear, "but you'll manage."

She withdrew from his back, and he heard the door click shut behind him. Winston didn't look at her. He was concentrating.

"Now," she stepped up to the table, weapon still pointed almost haphazardly at him, "let's play a little game."

With her free hand, she reached into her utility pouch and pulled out a familiar ebony hairbrush. Winston felt his buttocks tense up and his eyebrows rise in recognition, but he didn't say anything. Kept concentrating.

"I'm going to sit down and put your naughty tush over my lap, just like last time. If you're a good boy, you won't have to be strapped to the bench tonight. If you cause any trouble..." she gave her widest smirk so far and patted the brush against her pouch, "I've got a couple other things in here I'll bet you'd rather not play with."

She sat down on the bench and placed the hairbrush beside her. She pushed a few golden bangs out of her face and raised the paralyzer at him again. "Come on."

Winston stepped up beside her, hands beside his back. Still concentrating.

"Something wrong, toots?"

"No," Winston finally answered, breathing a sigh of relief as he finished his task, "everything is fine, officer."

She looked at him quizzically, raising one blonde eyebrow.

"I was thinking," he said slowly, beginning to bend down toward her lap, "about my time with Julia."

O'Brien chuckled. Her laugh was musical, even in its cruelty. "A few nights in here, and I'll make you forget all about that little office hussy." She met his eyes, lustfully. For an instant, Winston actually thought he was about to obey. Her red-wrapped thighs seemed to invite him, just like her ruby lips and high, goddess-like breasts.

"Julia taught me things, though," he said, almost more to himself than to her. He tiptoed closer to O'Brien so that he could lie across her gorgeous thighs with one motion.

"Oh?" She raised the pistol out of the way so he could get across her knees.

"Yes."

Before she had time to react, Winston's hands came flying out from behind him and grabbed O'Brien's wrist. He knew she was stronger, but a half second of surprise was all it took to force the gun down at her thigh and squeeze her finger against the trigger. There was a high-pitched, mechanical whine, and Sergeant Laura O'Brien slouched in place, arms flying to stabilize her suddenly too-heavy body. She started to shout, but Winston forced a hand over her mouth while his other pried the weapon out of her weakened hand. He pulled her against him, nerve pistol to her head. The handcuffs hung from his right wrist and dangled against her shoulder.

"Like how to get out of restraints," he growled.