I awaken as abruptly as I fell asleep. The damned collar buzzes four times around my neck like an alarm clock, and immediately remembering how it got there, I sit up to survey my surroundings. I've been placed in a small cell; A warm light in the ceiling illuminates grey tile walls, a dark-orange shag carpet floor, a toilet, and this uncomfortable mattress on the floor. At the front of the cell is a depression in the wall where the door sits, but there is no apparent handle or window. I had been stripped of my clothes, my watch, everything but the collar, and a simple pair of white panties and bra. Neither was what I was wearing when I arrived. I was exposed, trapped, violated, and hungry. Unable to tell how long it has been since I was put to sleep, I gauge my tiredness. I had the familiar groggy angst I'd get from waking up from a nap that was just too long but not long enough to sleep comfortably. I figure it had been two, maybe three hours then? My hunger is hard to distract from. I haven't eaten since breakfast, maybe ten or twelve hours ago.
  "Hello?" I shout into the room, made nervous by the loudness of my own voice. The collar had likely awoken me for a reason. Soon, the door would open. My first instinct is to calm myself, the thumping of my heart making me feel like I'd just run a mile. I count the tiles in the room, taking the first row and first column of each wall and multiplying them to get about seven hundred and twenty tiles. It'll have to do, as there is nothing else to count in the cell. I survey the space again, this time to detect any hidden microphones or cameras, but the simplicity of the cell leaves nowhere to hide any equipment. As far as I could tell. 
  I'm on the carpeted floor, checking around the toilet base when the door opens with a sudden jolt. Quickly sitting up and covering myself with my arms, I retreat into the corner of the room. In walks Wynona, now wearing a sienna blazer over a black blouse and slacks, with Lab Coat in tow behind her. Wynona looks me up and down like a predator savoring its' prey's last moments. I open my mouth to speak but find that I've been silenced, noting my remote sitting in Lab Coat's palm. My remote. Disgusting that I'm already feeling a connection with the device.
  "Good morning, sunshine. Well, evening. Parker and I were just talking about you," Wynona seems in high spirits, but Lab Coat herself- Parker- seems in her usual state of blasé. "It sounds like you took to the first conditioning phase much better than we originally projected. You're a real whore!" I deflate as she continues. "I've got to say, professionally, I had a lot of fun watching the video of you squirming while giving everything up. You barely put up a fight! Much better than our last subjects."
  Last subjects? I look at her with quizzical nervousness. How many had there been?
  "Oh, honey, don't be disappointed; you really were the best choice for this trial. The other ones were chosen because we had to work out some bugs with the hardware's bio-interface. You're wearing the third prototype, and we're confident this one is safe. The other two didn't make it this far." Wynona's sadistic expression is eclipsed by her proud, joyous tone despite referring to what I can only ascertain to be the deaths of two other... test subjects. My heart sinks. Parker walks up to me and inspects my neck, speaking up for the first time.
  "Any aches or pains? Feelings that the collar's shifted? Any bleeding? Headache? Nausea?" I shake my head, too hungry and afraid to attempt passive resistance. In truth, I could barely tell I was wearing the thing despite knowing it had probes in my veins and spine. I tried not to think about that or the fact that I'm nearly naked and exposed to these two people. Wynona pulls out her phone and a cord, connecting it to the collar. She taps around, looks up at me momentarily, then back down.
  "She's hungry and stressed. A little cold, too. I'll get her fed while you go talk with Bennett about adjusting the F column dosages a bit higher. Raise the temperature of the cell by 5 degrees, too. I'll see you in 15 minutes."
  "Yes, ma'am," Parker hands her the remote and walks out without another glance at me, the door opening and closing automatically. Wynona disconnects the collar and pockets her phone and the remote, circling me like a hungry shark, looking me up and down. She pulls my hands away from where I'd been using them to cover myself and holds them above my head. She had never gotten close enough to me while standing for me to register just how much taller she was. She towered at least six inches over me. I averted my gaze out of fear and embarrassment at feeling so exposed. The panties were thin, and the bra was sheer. She pushes me against the wall and leans in, her mouth to my ear. I feel a hand wandering along my waist.
  "This has been a long time coming. I finally have someone so completely under my control. Sure, my employees do what I say, but that relationship has limits. You don't know what you mean to me, pretty girl. I wasn't lying when I said you had potential." I gulp, catching her gaze for a moment as my face reddens.
  Wynona reaches into a pocket, pulls out the remote, and fiddles with one of the dials. Immediately, the wall behind me feels much colder, her breath hotter, and the finger tracing along my waist makes me squirm. When she grabs me through the underwear, squeezing and rubbing me gently, my knees almost buckle. Unable to resist, I lean into her and moan softly. 
  "I called you a whore earlier. Did you like that?" It takes me a moment to process her question, but ultimately, I choose honesty and shake my head. She laughs condescendingly and moves her hand more forcefully, making me mewl. I had never felt something so intense from this kind of contact. The feelings are too overpowering; I can't control myself.
  "Say that you're my whore." I whine, trying to get out of the demand. She pulls her hand away, and partly out of fear of punishment and partially out of desire, I cave.
  "I'm your... whore..." My face burns red, and I curse her in my head. She returns to her ministrations, leaving me moaning, the anger and worry fading away as I quickly find myself grinding into her hand. It's the warmest thing I'd felt in hours.
"Good girl." She kisses my forehead almost passionately before she removes the hand from my waist and slaps me hard on my left cheek. I yelp and whine, momentarily distracted. I squirm in her grasp, looking up at her again to see her smiling down at me. I open my mouth to speak but only end up releasing an incoherent babble as she tightens her grip around me.
  "Tsk tsk tsk, Pet, you should know better than to try and speak out of turn." She speaks with a calm, domineering authority. I'm entirely at her mercy. She emphasizes this thought as if reading my mind by putting her thumb on my lip and prying my mouth open. I keep grinding into her hand, luxuriating in her touch, craving the release I can feel on the horizon. Wynona slides two fingers into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue as she slowly pushes them deeper. Surprisingly, her fingers taste good- a slightly sweet flavor washes over my pallet as her knuckles reach my lips. Focused on the renewed feelings of her caresses on my hardening dick, pleasure tingling up my spine, and need pooling between my legs, I had barely noticed that her fingers were almost certainly in my throat.
  "You really are a whore!" She laughs down at me before pulling her fingers out of my mouth and wiping them on my cheek. I moan, missing the taste, looking at her through hazy eyes. I don't ever want this feeling to end; despite myself, I'm hoping she'll push me back onto the mattress. When she pulls her hand away from my aching cock, I can't help but whine and push my hips into her. She shoves me back against the wall with her free hand, a satisfied expression on her face as she puts the hand that had just been at my crotch into my mouth. The feeling of loss is unmatched.
  "Clean me up, pet."
  Tasting my own fluids on her fingers, I suck and lick until she pulls out of my mouth, pulling a strand of drool from my lips. She slaps me again; I yelp, pain blossoming through my face and leaving me feeling shocked back into consciousness. My eyes widen and I look at my captor, comprehending what happened. There's a noticeable stain on the panties and a noticeable bulge as I'm still erect. I feel wholly humiliated for it. To think that this devil could make me feel so good at all felt like a desecration upon my very spirit. I wonder if she will keep me this sensitive forever as I note goosebumps all over my arms and hair sticking on end; a small part of me hopes she does. She hits the button I now know silences me, and pockets the remote again.
  "Let's get you some food, whore." She beckons for me to follow; covering myself again with my hands and arms, I walk with her out of the room and into a hallway tiled like the cell. We walk by nine other doors like the one we had just emerged from. Do they have occupants? Taking a few turns, we enter an elevator. The wooden furnishing and touch-screen interface are in harsh contrast to the prison we had just emerged from. Out of over one hundred floors, she taps the prompt for the third highest and waves her key card. The elevator doesn't seem to move for a moment, but my stomach drops, and the screen shows that we're already halfway there. I'm almost startled when Wynona speaks.
  "Do you like dogs or cats more?" The mundane nature of the question strikes me. I open my mouth to speak, but I'm still silenced. I look at her with confusion. "I bet you're more of a dog person, aren't you?" I nod. I liked cats but always found dogs more relatable. 
  She flashes her trademark cruel smile as the elevator door opens, revealing an impressive atrium. The entire space is imposing with stamped concrete and the same wooden accents as the elevator. A decorative tree grows upwards between the balconied floors above towards a massive skylight. A window to the West illuminates the enormous space with the pink-orange light of the setting evening sun. We walk across the room towards the window, and I notice a white-haired person in a suit from the floor above leaning over the railing, watching us. I'm reminded of my near-nakedness. I can't make out much else about the observer as I follow Wynona around a corner, and we walk into a tighter hallway with the west window on our right side. 
  I count panes of glass as we walk, enjoying the first real warmth I'd felt since my shower in the morning, ever so more comfortable with my heightened sensitivity. This is my first time at such a high point in the city; walking next to or above the spires of so many buildings gives me a sense of vertigo; combined with the dissociation incurred by my situation, the moment feels dreamlike. Wynona stops, and I stand next to her, forgetting her for the moment as I bask in the warmth and beauty of the view, watching a helicopter take off from the roof of a building a few hundred feet lower than us. My mind wanders. Does this building have a helipad on the roof? I bet it does.
  "Lucille."
  I'm pulled back into the moment and spin to my left to see my captor holding open a door, wearing an annoyed expression.
  "You don't respond to Pet yet, do you? I must have called 3 times."
  I hadn't noticed; I avert my gaze to avoid displaying my satisfaction. Walking in, I find about what I'd expect- a massive desk and triple-monitor setup atop it, a large bookshelf on the wall opposite the windows greeting me with the same view I was looking at in the hallway. Wynona sits on her side of the desk, and I move to take a seat in the sofa chair across from her.
  "No. Come here."
  Trying not to roll my eyes, I walk around the desk to stand by her, revealing a dog bed and an empty bowl on the floor next to her luxurious office chair. I look around for a dog in the room before my stomach sinks.
  "Sit."
  I look at her and open my mouth to protest, but I'm still silenced. Enraged, I glare at her and hold my position firm, raising a middle finger in defiance. I mouth out every insult and swear I can think of, but I flinch when she reaches into her pocket. This only makes me more furious, and I resolve internally to hold my position. I'm not a violent person by any means, but I feel the urge to attack her and wrestle the remote out of her hands. I take too long to decide, though, and before I can do anything, I find myself writhing in pain on the floor as the collar gives me my punishment.
  With my heightened sensations, the assault on my senses feels entirely new, infinitely enlightening. There is nothing to process other than pure suffering. Every nerve in my body is on fire, I'm suffocating, and my head is going to explode. I couldn't even scream. Eventually, it passes, and the memory of the pain immediately compartmentalizes into vague trauma. A slew of curses flash through my mind. I feel a desire to speak words I'd never thought to say before in my life.
  I shudder on the floor, lifting my head to look at my torturer. Wynona looks down at me with a grin I imagine only the devil himself could outdo, the reddish-orange glow of the sunset adding to the effect. I place myself onto my wrists, choking out sobs as tears stream down my face. She wipes my eyes, taking me by the chin and holding me in eye contact. Her lips close into a mocking pout, and I can envision razor-sharp teeth behind them. I'm terrified of this woman. I can't handle that pain again- another part of me breaks as I grasp how futile any resistance is. She pulls her hand away and opens a desk drawer, removing a transparent container filled with tan-brown morsels; my heart sinks further as she pours them into the bowl before me.
  "Don't worry, Pet," she draws out the last word with a cruel delight, "this is a special blend. You can trust me to take good care of you, right?" 
  She waits for a response, and I nod uncomfortably. Looking back at the food, I lean in. I'm famished and too terrified to resist. I smell it; surprisingly, if I close my eyes, it smells more like a nutty trail mix than the dog food I remember serving to my friend's pooch while housesitting. I keep my eyes closed and lean in for a bite. It tastes better than I expected, but I try not to think about it anyway. When I swallow the first mouthful, I almost lose balance when the collar rewards me. I squirm on the floor and continue eating, encouraged.
  It takes me twenty-three mouthfuls to finish the bowl. I was rewarded a few times during the process, and by my last bite, I felt almost neutral about what I'd done. The experience was far better than any more punishment, and I was at least fed. Laying on the dog bed, the fabric surprisingly comfortable against my sensitive skin, I reflect on what Wynona did to me in the cell. I still feel a bit of need between my legs from how she left me. I wonder if she'll finish the job today and if it'll be a recurring event. How bad will life really be with her? I shake the thoughts out of my head, trying to remind myself that I'm being held prisoner.
  The anxiety returns after a few minutes as I sit on the floor, waiting for her to finish some kind of work on her computer. The warmth departs after the sun fully sets, and reality sinks in with it. Wynona finally stands. Rummaging through a drawer again, she pulls out a device with a long cord. She holds me by my shoulder and seats the unrecognizable plug of the cable into my collar, twisting it in place with a click. She has the other end of the device in her hand, and I recognize I'm on some kind of electronic leash.
  "Well, let's go. We're late for our appointment." 
  I pull myself up to stand, but my legs give out as soon as I get onto my feet. I fall back onto the floor, barely catching myself with my hands. Confused, I try again before learning I simply cannot stand on two feet. In my head, I scream in irritation and humiliation. In reality, I silently follow her on my hands and knees out of the room. As we walk down the hallway, looking over the night skyline, I recognize a feeling of gratification spreading across my body and growing in intensity the longer I shuffle along at Wynona's side. We enter the atrium, now thick with the shadows of the center tree cast by a myriad of dim spotlights, and I find myself incredibly glad that there's nobody else around to see me like this.
  After the short elevator ride and a much longer walk through the concrete labyrinth of the building's sublevels, we arrive at the door labeled "Project LSKD-22A." Despite my knees and wrists aching, I find myself in a somewhat hazy state of contentment. I had utterly forgotten to track the route from the elevator to the project lab and how that relates to the location of my cell. I curse myself. Wynona opens the door, revealing the same miserable office from earlier, the lights now dimmed with only three people standing in the middle of the room.
  Parker, a short man in a lab coat, and the tall, suited white-haired person I recognize as the one from the balcony in the atrium are in the midst of a discussion; judging from their tones, the conversation is bordering on argument. They don't seem to notice Wynona pulling me inside.
  "The project has failed two of the four core goals, two test subjects have been... well, you know," The white-haired one's tone grows solemn at this, "and Wynona is playing with the third one like some kind of sex toy. You're lucky the Board hasn't pulled the funding already. Nobody's going to approve your goddamn overtime." They're almost yelling the last part at the two lab-coat-wearing workers.
  "Here she is," Parker says, smiling for the first time as she looks at Wynona, then at me on my hands and knees. Wynona hands my lead to her and walks up to White Hair.
  "I approved the overtime, Ainsley. The Board will see a full presentation on the success of our work with subject three within the week. I get your job is to ride our ass, but we just started testing the third prototype, and we're operating far, far under budget. The four goals were deemed impossible to accomplish simultaneously, and we're moving far beyond expectations with points one and two. If the Board would allow for the revision of point four, which I think they will-" Wynona fires off her retort like a machine gun, but White Hair- Ainsley seems unfazed and interrupts.
  "You think this is about budgets? We haven't had to dispose of a fucking body before! Even if we somehow manage to avoid the legal ramifications of the direction you've taken this in, somehow we don't end up exposed as a bunch of perverts," Ainsley emphasizes the last phrase with particular vitriol, waving a hand towards me without breaking eye contact with Wynona, "How do you expect this project to land? Who's going to buy this? What ethics review board would ever allow-"
  "Ours did. The potential speaks for itself- it's worth all the risk and more. Everybody here knows this except for you." Wynona shifts from an angry tone to the sales voice she used to get me into the collar. 
  "This is the last subject. I'm going to schedule the meeting, and if you don't have a fucking golden egg, you're done. I won't need to convince the Board of that." Ainsley storms out of the room. When the door closes, Wynona groans and looks at the other two.
  "I need you guys to be on your A game here. If anything goes wrong, we're all in deep shit. Ainsley isn't entirely wrong." She calms down, obviously in thought, gesturing towards me without looking in my direction. Parker tugs on my cord to catch my attention and leads me back to the chair from earlier, unplugging the leash and allowing me to stand on shaky legs to sit down. Wynona and the other man start talking again in hushed tones, inaudible.
  Parker connects the collar to her laptop and sits down. I'm growing very tired of being plugged into things.
  "Hunger is OK, temperature not so much, still stressed, and it looks like you're a little sore?" I don't hide my surprise that she can get such an accurate reading of my state of being. Parker takes my shocked expression as a confirmation and nods. She clicks four times, and the pain in my knees and arms is relieved, leaving a slight buzzing sensation across my whole body.
  "Did that work?"
  I nod, hiding my appreciation, also noting that the heightened sensations are fading back into what might be normalcy. The room feels a lot less cold. She looks back down and types something, after a few minutes of waiting as she clicks and types without noticeable differences, I feel a sense of boredom setting in despite all the stress. I try to find things around the room to count, but besides the three people (plus me), nine desks, buttons on her coat, and twelve visible chairs, there is little else to look for. My thoughts spiral into panic as I have no choice but to reflect on my situation and the conversation I just observed.
  "Bennett, can you come here and confirm the new F column?" Parker shouts across the room, causing Wynona and the short man- Bennett, to pause and look in our direction. Bennett says something final before the two walk over. Without ever looking at me, the short man takes the laptop from Parker and starts scrolling through whatever the 'F column' is. Wynona looks over his shoulder and back at me, frowning slightly.
  "Should be fine, but I'm still a little unsure about-" Bennett says, Wynona cutting him off.
  "Shut up. We'll talk about this more later."
  "But-"
  "Enough!" Wynona seems furious.
  I'm still anxious to understand what they're talking about; the pit in my stomach is growing into a sinkhole. I've never been so nervous, I might actually vomit on Parker. Her eyes widen when she looks back at the laptop and speaks up. "She's stressing out. Can we apply the dosage changes or not?" She glares at Bennett, who looks at Wynona for confirmation.
  "Apply it. Bennett, I want you to work through the night to complete the changes. Ainsley said she's the last one, so it's all of our asses if she doesn't play along." Wynona looks at me like a judge, and I'm on trial. I wonder if I can see a hint of genuine concern in her gaze or if I'm just projecting that to avoid losing my mind.
  Parker taps a key on the laptop, and she and Bennett look at me expectantly. A few seconds pass, and I wonder what exactly they've done, but the concern and the knot in my stomach disappear. I almost forgot any fear existed in the first place. In fact, I'm feeling a lot better, better than I have in months since my last spa day. It takes me a few seconds to realize that they've manipulated me to feel completely calm- and the thought of this would make me horrified if I could manage such a feeling. I make a dozen mental notes that the lack of fear isn't natural or ideal.
  "Feeling better?" Wynona looks down at me. I nod, trying not to reveal anything I don't have to. I had never played poker before, but I imagine this is what a poker face felt like. Bennett makes a silly face, and I can't help but laugh, giggling to myself like a fool. It takes me several seconds to regain my composure. Unable to gauge the consequences, I ask my first question in a while.
  "What was that all about?"
  "Honey, you really don't need to know. I'd punish you for forgetting your place, but I think the error might be on our end." Wynona uses both hands to squeeze the shoulders of the two techs before walking to the door. She stops as it opens. "Tune her up. I want her rested and ready for the software update in the morning." She glares at Bennet, who shifts in place nervously. I almost feel bad for the guy; I hate working through the night. She looks at me, a smile returning to her face. She winks. "See you soon, Pet." She walks out, the door hanging open for a moment.
  I decide to try and get up, now would be a great time to try and escape, while I'm completely uninhibited. The two panic, Bennett holding me down and Parker administering a punishment from the laptop. I shake, writhe, and scream as the door closes behind Wynona. They struggle to tie me down with straps on the chair as I sit in a haze of pain. Eventually, it recedes, and I cannot move my limbs. Frustration comes easier than fear; I try to curse them out. Perhaps, luckily, I had been silenced at some point. I glare and wait as they quibble over the laptop, presumably trying to tune me up as Wynona ordered.
  An eternity passes, and I feel more rational again, my understanding of consequences returning, though I still generally feel unbothered and calm.
  "Are you going to do anything stupid again?" Parker asks Bennett, looking at me with concern and exhaustion from having to wrestle me into my restraints. I shake my head, frustrated but resigned. I was too exhausted to try anything again. I feel a reward pass over me from the collar and let out a low moan, looking at them with hazy eyes.
  "Good." They look at each other, exhausted. Bennett unclasps the straps nervously, looking at me like he's releasing a tiger. I can't help but laugh a little at this; I feel ultimately defeated. One pathetic tiger.
  The two help me out of the seat and onto my hands and knees on the floor. Parker clicks the leash back into the collar, and I find a familiar warmth spreading across my body as she leads me out of the room. I look back and see Bennett wiping sweat off his brow and walking to one of the desks.
  I'm led down the hallways to my cell, forgetting again to keep track of the exact path. Parker unplugs the lead once we get into the cell, looking at me with an expression I figure as an amused pity.
  "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring a clean pair of underwear."
  The door closes, and I feel myself blushing in humiliation at the observation. I had completely forgotten about the stain; looking down, it's still there. Looking back at the mattress, I'm glad to find a thick blanket and pillow sitting on top. At least I won't be freezing tonight. I shrug and settle into the bed, wrapping myself in the blanket. 
  Whereas I'd usually sit in bed for hours and spiral into anxiety, tonight, my head is completely clear. A part of me is glad about the changes made to my "F Column." Another aspect of me is frightened that they were able to so effortlessly do what many doctors and psychiatrists couldn't. Say what I will about Wynona and her Cherimoya; they hadn't failed to impress. What could they do if they used their powers for good instead of evil? Maybe they were; this was certainly more interesting than my day job. I shrug this all off,  I'm doing their work for them. They hadn't done anything to earn my trust or forgiveness. But, despite everything, all I want is for Wynona to do so. I try to focus on counting tiles on the wall, unwilling to confront those thoughts now. The blanket's warmth does wonders, and sleep takes me quickly.