Every trickling drop of sweat tickles me, the itching powder torments me, my overfull and dripping bladder teases me, and I tug in frustration at the confining sleeves. Every day the suit is drained and cleaned with a scorching liquid disinfectant, and a small amount of itching powder is added, enough to drive me crazy for the next 24 hours, all this done without it coming off, not allowing a single second of relief.Įveryday I watch mutely as the legs come and go in front of me, as they laugh and talk and eat, come and go from the house at will, and I remain helpless, ignored. The catheters which allow me to pass waste have a release valve which keeps the pressure in my colon and bladder far above what I can bear, only opening for a few drops at a time, and the constant pressure and slow drip of waste gnaws at me constantly. My feed is laced with laxative, so that all my waste is a liquid which sloshes around the suit, stinking it up horribly. They have thought of everything, even the removal of my nails, treating them to permanently stop their growth. I have not used my arms or stood on my feet for a month now, have not spoken or eaten human food, have not breathed fresh air for just as long. Pinned Post hot and sweaty torture sauna torture rubber prison helpless psychological torture humiliation frustration female prisoner She has no idea how long the transport to her new cell will take, and each hour is an eternity. She stares at the brightness, blinking the sweat out of her eyes, trying to keep her body from squirming at the constant discomfort, trying to keep her breathing even, as she has learnt the hard way that even the slightest rustle of her garment or jingle of her chain or whimper into her gag will count as a violation. There is no water, there is no food, there is no sleep, there is no toilet usage, there is no relief from the sweat which trickles in her rubber garment, but she has to keep her mind on following the rules, unable to risk a violation. Second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour, she can only stare at the bright yellow light in front of her, unable to take her mind off keeping her chains taut, keeping her hands low, keeping her gaze fixed on the light.
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