Paige appeared before a judge, with her lawyer on one side and the prosecutor on the other. In a leaden voice she agreed to plead guilty, and was promptly sentenced to life in prison. In shackles, she was led off by two large female guards and taken back to holding. Nothing happened that day, and after her evening meal she lay back on the hard cot in her cell and fell quickly asleep.

She wakened curled up on her side naked in a metal box.

It was pitch black in the box, and she woke up groggy and sick. She sat up, then reached out around her. There were metal bars all around her, and beyond them, solid steel. It was a small metal box, so small she could touch all four walls by putting her back against one, her feet against another, and reaching out to either side.

The roof was within touching distance, too, barely six inches above her head as she sat in place. And there were metal bars running along it, as well. And those bars, all the bars, were cold, hard metal, as was the floor.

Her body was covered in goose-bumps, and she hugged herself, shivering.

She called out, but got no answer. She slapped feebly at the heavy, immoveable walls, but that was pointless. The contrast between her soft warm body and the cold hard metal could not be more stark.

As her mind began to clear she realized that she was not entirely naked. She wore some kind of flat boot on her feet. The boots were of some kind of soft leatherlike material. They had no heels, and rose all the way to within a few inches of her crotch. She had gloves on of a similar soft material, and, like the boots, they rose up almost to her shoulders. Calling them gloves was probably wrong, though, for there were no fingers, nor was there one for a thumb. All were locked together in the snug fitting leather sheath. She felt metal rings around her wrists, which meant it was impossible to remove the gloves had she wanted to, and similar metal rings, or bracelets around her ankles.

A similar leathery material circled her throat, like a collar. And she felt a metal collar going atop it, locked in place. Paige was utterly confused by it all, bewildered.

She had no way to mark the passage of time. She had no idea what they wanted of her, expected of her. Was this merely a punishment? If so, how long would it continue? Or was this merely a lesson in what she could expect if she disobeyed? She tried to ease her discomfort as best she could, but it was impossible. The floor was as hard and cold as the bars along the walls.

Sitting on the floor froze her backside. Leaning against any of the bars or walls froze her arms and shoulders or back. She had no idea what the temperature was in the box. Would she be able to see her breath if she could see? It probably wasn't that cold. It wasn't freezing. It was simply cold, especially if you were naked.

And she was more than naked.

She discovered that very quickly with the coolness of her scalp. Raising her thinly gloved hands to her head, she discovered all her hair had been removed. In fact, all her body hair was gone. The skin on her head seemed as smooth and soft as the skin on her chest or belly or bottom - or between her legs. Running her panicky hands over her body, she could detect no sign, no stubble, nothing, for the gloves moved smoothly across her silky skin wherever she touched.

She had no idea how much time passed. She was cold, shivering and miserable.

And then, suddenly, the walls fell away, the roof lifted off, and she discovered she was crouching in a cage, elevated slightly off the floor, in a large dimly lit stone room. Her heart thumped and she clasped her arms across her chest as she saw the shadowy figure of a man standing before the cage.

A light came on, but it was directly overhead, and her eyes teared even as she slitted them closed. It did more to blind her than lighten up the room, and she squeezed her thighs together further, heart thumping, face flushing with the first heat she had felt in some time.

"Hello, Miss Thomas," a man's voice said.

It was deep, and had a sense of serene confidence to it.

Paige had no answer, crouching there, trying to cover herself, and no idea what to do.

"You may refer to me" he said, his voice almost friendly, "as Sir. You may use that for questions and answers."

"W-where am I?" she demanded, her voice quavering.

"You are where you are," he said, his voice still quite serene.

She squinted through the light. It lit her, but not him. All she could make out was that he was a slender man, and wore a dark suit. He sounded older, considerably older.

"Why am I in a cage?" she gulped.

She could see his head cock to one side.

"It has been decided that your lack of discipline and inability to function in society requires that others be protected from you."

There was no condemnation in his voice. It was a simple statement of accepted fact to him.

"Why am I naked?!"

"You are here to be reborn, Miss Thomas. We are all born as you are."

She squinted past the light. Were they religious freaks? Were they going to try to baptize her or something?!

"When do I get out of this cage and get dressed?"

"That is up to you."

"Then let me out!"

"You must call me sir," he said, as if gently chiding a child. "It is a sign of respect in our society. And respect is something it has been decided you lack. Demonstrating respect will earn you the privilege of continuing to speak with me or others. Showing a lack of respect will earn you only solitude."

"Fuck you!"

The light went out, very abruptly, and she found herself in the darkness again. She held her position for long moments, then, though she heard nothing, she felt a change in the air. She reached out and found the walls in place against the bars again. Her hand searched up and found the ceiling had come down as well.

And she was alone.

And it was cold.

She eased her arms down, but in truth, she hugged herself to keep warm anyway.

Time passed, and she wondered how long it would take before the man came back. And then, rather abruptly, all the cold was sucked out of the world, and it became warm, and then hot. There was a minute or so of relief, of the delicious luxury of warmth seeping back into her body. That lasted for a minute or so of heat before she began to get worried.

It was too hot.

It was hot enough that while she had been shivering a minute earlier, she was now starting to perspire. Again, she tried to shift her position a dozen different ways, but to no avail. The bars and walls were too hot to be comfortable leaning against. The floor was too hot to be comfortable sitting on it. She felt the sweat starting to trickle down her forehead, down her back and between her breasts.

She was kneeling, sitting half on her heels. It was the only position she could come up with that kept her soft bare skin out of direct contact with the hot/cold floor. The heat of the box was bad enough without that. It sapped the energy from her as she drew in slow, ragged breaths of air. Where the air was coming from, she had no idea. She had searched and found no indication, no grille, no hole.

Time passed. And then it became cool, and then cold again. Her perspiration covered body started to shiver, and she moaned and hugged herself helplessly with her gloved arms.

They were definitely punishing her, and she couldn't say they didn't have the right, given that she'd killed that little Chinese guy.

But that didn't make it any more pleasant or comfortable.

And then, her eyes barely awake, she saw light around her, and jerked her head up to see that the walls beyond the bars had again fallen away. A shadowy figure stood in the same spot, and then the bright light hit her again, and she squinted, her eyes tearing.

"Hello, Miss Thomas," the same voice said, in exactly the same tone.

Paige was embarrassed again, but not as much as she had been. Privacy concerns were somewhat lower on her priority list by then. And he didn't sound very menacing.

"How long are you going to keep me in here... sir?" she asked, still trembling a little from the cold.

"That is up to you," he said. "What happens to you in here, as in life, is predicated on your behavior. The child learns not to play with matches by burning its fingers. Nature can be cruel, but is quite a capable teacher."

"H-How do I get out... sir?"

"By behaving properly."

"But... but how? I mean, sir!"

"There will be ample means for you to learn what is and is not expected or acceptable behavior during your stay with us."

"But... but someone has to tell me what to do!" she protested.

"Very well. If you seek instructions. Straighten your back, spread your knees apart, and place your hands behind your neck. Draw your head up and back."

Paige stared up at the shadowy figure, feeling heat return to her face again.

"But... I'm naked," she protested.

"As we are all born, Miss Thomas," he said calmly.

And then, abruptly, the lights were out. She gasped in surprise at the return to total darkness, then reached out and felt the walls closed in around her again. She did not need to reach up to know the ceiling was back in place. And then it began to get cold again...

She bit her lips as she started to shiver. Why had the walls come up again? Was it because she hadn't obeyed right away? That must have been it. And, she suddenly recalled, she had failed to call him sir several times. She cursed herself as she shivered there, and cursed them for their stupid rules and failing to explain them!

The cold seeped into her bones, and sapped her energy even as the heat had, just in a slightly different way. She kept shifting positions as one frozen part of her body or other demanded it, and when she swung her leg she hit something. It hadn't been there before, and she gasped in surprise, then reached down, feeling for it.

It was a ... a post, a metal post of some kind, protruding from the floor! And it was warm! Her trembling hands slid around it. Her fingers were not frozen because of the gloves, but the gloves were quite thin and so her fingers were still cold. The warmth of the metal against them warmed them, and that warmth seemed to pass through her hands and go up her arms to her mind. She ran her hands slowly up and down its length. It was rounded, yet not smooth. It had a number of ridges on it, and as she worked her hands up to the top she felt it swell then abruptly narrow.

Paige's mind was not functioning at its best, but she knew a cock when she felt one. And this certainly felt like one, metal or not. She shook her head at how bizarre that was, but its warmth was irresistible in the cold box. She pressed herself against it as best she could, and the most efficient way of doing this was to sit on her heels and slide her thighs in around it, while holding it in her hands.

Feeling the hard, warm metal against her lower abdomen, against her pussy, in part, gave her fuzzy mind thoughts on whether this punishment was to take on some sort of sexual nature. It was the government, so surely not. On the other hand, this hot and cold box was surely not something any politician would approve of.

And then the dim light grew. This time she felt a subtle change in the air around her just as it happened. But of course, in the darkness she had seen nothing. The walls and ceiling were gone, and the familiar shape stood over her, looking down into the cage.

"Hello, Miss Thomas," he said in exactly the time tone.

"Why is it so cold?" she asked, teeth chattering.

"For encouragement," he said calmly.

And then the light went out and the walls were back in place. She stared stupidly into the darkness before realizing she had forgotten to say sir again. She cursed vilely and felt tears starting to fill her eyes as the temperature lowered again.

After a while, the lights grew around her, off in the corners of the larger room, and she realized the walls had fallen away. How much time had passed? She had no idea. The same man, apparently, was standing there.

"Hello, Miss Thomas."

She could not say hello. Somehow she just couldn't!

"I-I'm sorry for forgetting to call you sir," she gulped.

"This is not a place for forgiving or forgetting, Miss Thomas," he said regretfully. "Your behavior, your responses, will govern how you are treated."

"I-I will try to .. .behave... sir," she gulped.

"Then you can begin by assuming the position you were instructed to on our last meeting."

Reluctantly, she did so. It helped that it was still fairly dim.

And then, of course, the light came on overhead, a narrow focused spotlight which made her drop her head as her eyes began to water. She started to jerk her knees together again but the man spoke up, calmly.

"Do not change your position, Miss Thomas," he said.

She almost ignored him, but then, through a force of will, jerked her knees apart and straightened her back, drawing her hands up and back behind her neck.

"Head back."

She obeyed, though she had to close her eyes against the light overhead.

She opened them slowly, slitting them, flushed with embarrassment at displaying herself like this.

Stare all you want, she thought angrily, helplessly, defiance filling her.

"Are you ashamed of your body, Miss Thomas?"

"N-No," she gulped. Then felt a sense of panic. "No, sir I mean!"

"Your body seems quite shapely, as society judges such things. It is healthy, the skin unmarred. You have lovely legs, and your breasts are of a good size and attractive shape. The nipples are small and centered, and your vaginal area is neat and well-colored."

Paige absorbed all this with something of a sense of shock. It was certainly stated in a clinical fashion, but it was about her, and by a man who was looking at her kneeling there naked with her legs spread and back arched! She thought it was only because she was already so dozed that she didn't collapse into a ball on the floor.

"You are an excellent specimen of a young female," he said, his voice as calm and serene as ever. "Of course, your society has a nudity taboo, so displaying yourself makes you uncomfortable. But you'll get used to it. You are here to have your sensibilities altered, to have your personality changed to one more suitable and useful to society, after all."

Suddenly, the lights around the room brightened further, allowing her to see him clearly for the first time. He was a handsome man, or had once been. He was older than her father, with graying temples, a square face with deep brown eyes and short dark hair. He was slim but had wide shoulders, and wore what looked to her like a very expensive black suit.

He looked, she thought, like a mortician, like one of those people who greeted mourners at funeral homes. Or perhaps an English butler, though without the long tails on his jacket.

She felt her mind squirming even more now that she could see him looking at her, for he did nothing to avert his eyes from her obscenely displayed body.

"We are all driven by the impulses our body subjects us to, Miss Thomas," he said. "Pain is one of those impulses, as is pleasure. Sexual pleasure is a particularly strong influence at your age." And, of course, hunger and thirst are always strong motivators. Knees further apart, please, and arch your back more."

She obeyed, even while flushing even deeper.

He moved forward further, bending to look down into the cage at her.

"You are here to learn, among other things, discipline," he said. "We prefer to use other than pain to drive discipline. But there are many methods available to us."

He straightened, a small smile on his face.

"Tell me about sex," Miss Thomas. About what you enjoy doing and your sexual history."

It was a shocking request from a man she had barely met, and Paige stared at him through the bars, terribly aware of the thick shaft ... the cock, she told herself savagely... which rose up from the floor between her legs, a shaft she was actually pressed against for it hid at least some part of her body from him.

"I-I ... can't," she gulped.

And then all the lights went out. She moaned helplessly, unfurling her arms, and reaching through the bars. She knew the walls would be there, and they were.

The temperature turned hot again, and she began to sweat, and gasp for breath. The thing between her legs, the metal thing, the dildo, as she thought of it, turned cool, and again she clung to it. And then, on turning her head she bumped into something dangling to the side. She reached up quickly. It was a hose of some kind.

Running her hands along the ridged surface, feeling the soft latexy feel, she shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh come on!" she cried out to the black emptiness.

It was a dildo, one that had more flex to it. But the ridges, and the cock-head, were unmistakeable. As her leather covered hands brushed across the latter she detected a slickness. It had been some time since she had had anything to drink. She had no idea how long, but her throat was dry and her mouth parched.

She squeezed the thing and liquid oozed out against her face.

She was thirsty enough to abandon pride. Besides, she was in a small black box alone. She rose up, cocking her head back, and slid her lips over the head, sucking hard. The liquid oozed out harder and she moaned with relief as it filled her mouth. It tasted like some sort of juice, though sluggishly thick, and she welcomed it in her empty stomach, especially since it was cool while she was overheated.

The sexuality of what she was doing did not escape her. Whoever had designed this punishment was clearly a pervert. But then, life was full of perverts. She had always known that, and had made use of it, dressing herself enticingly, flirting with men to get what she wanted. So wrapping her lips around a rubber cock and sucking while squeezing the shaft with her hands was small price to pay to get desperately needed liquid into her mouth and throat.

Not that she could get much of it.

Squeezing did not seem to accomplish much. Now she detected the entire surface of the thing was moist. Running her hands along it made them feel quite slick. She brushed them against her cheek experimentally, then rubbed them along the hose again. Where was the moisture coming from? The head of the thing hung down towards her, so the liquid there couldn't be flowing back up.

Paige was not inexperienced sexually. Sex, or its promise, had been her most valuable assets, after all, since she'd hit puberty. The "hose" was almost directly overhead, forcing her to cock her head up and back to slide her lips up over the head. Sliding her lips higher, taking the thing deeper into her mouth proved to produce more liquid. It seemed to be oozing slowly out from the sides of the shaft as if it were covered in pinprick holes.

She pushed her lips higher, feeling the thick, oozing head push deeper into her mouth, sliding down the length of her tongue as she sucked. She still wasn't getting any more out of the head, though she was getting some. But she could feel more oozing out of the shaft, and pushed higher.

The head pushed into her throat, and she gagged slightly, but Paige liked oral sex, and had long mastered her gag reflex. She pushed her lips higher still, feeling the thick, slick body of the shaft pushing deep into her throat. More liquid oozed out of the body. It wasn't her imagination, she was sure.

She swallowed repeatedly, feeling the liquid trickling down into her stomach.

Her position, sitting on her heels, back arched sharply, head almost upside down, had pushed her lower body forward against the metal bar protruding from the floor. She had not noticed the vibration before. It was faint, and she paid it little heed even now.

She pulled her lips down and off the tube, gasping for breath, leaning her head forward a bit to ease the dizziness he'd begun to feel. When she reached up for the tube again it was gone. She could find no sense of where it had been despite running her hands back and forth across the metal ceiling.

The temperature dropped again, and she moaned and shivered and pushed herself in closer to the warm metal bar, which throbbed noticeably now.

There was no sound in the box. There was nothing whatsoever to see. There was no input of any kind to her senses, other than the cold and heat against her skin.

More time passed, but she had no idea how much. She got cold, and the got warm. She also got very hungry and thirsty. Her mind became fogged, all thoughts and concerns fading other than those of immediate bodily requirements.

She would often reach above her, sweeping her hands in hopes of finding the hose. Occasionally, she found it, always in the same place, and then she would cock her head back, rise up and slide her lips around it to suck desperately. Arching back, her groin pushed up against the buzzing metal, and she hardly noticed as her hips began to work slowly against it.

The metal was cool where the box was hot. Its familiar throbbing was the only sensation in her life now other than her occasional thirsty drinks of the thick, mostly tasteless products of the overhead hose. The rounded ridges on the metal produced sensation as she rubbed slowly, unconsciously against it, head cocked far back, lips sliding up most of the way along the hose so that it filled her throat and the liquid oozed slowly down her throat into her empty stomach.

She never got enough. She tried to hold onto the hose, but after a short period it drew back and disappeared, no matter how hard she clung to it.

She dropped her hands to the metal thing pressed against her groin, held tightly between her thighs. The room began to cool again, and the metal bar to warm. It continued to buzz, and she was sure it wasn't her imagination that it buzzed more powerfully now as it pressed against her.

She would not have been human for those vibrations not to have an affect over time.

Absent any moral care or interest, she welcomed the sensations the buzzing metal gave, for they were vaguely pleasant, pleasurable. And she had nothing else of that to keep her company.

She felt the stirrings of physical arousal between her legs, and rubbed herself more energetically against the ridges of the metal cock. The pleasure, the sexual hunger, were a distraction from the unpleasantness and discomfort which had been her entire existence for some time. And as the pleasure grew, as her bodily juices began to slicken the metal, it was an entirely natural thought to rise up on her knees and position herself over it.

She was shamefaced as she did it, but it was at least doing something, and the sexual arousal pushed the dark emptiness back a bit. Paige felt the slickness of her sex lips as she pressed down against the rounded head of the metal post. She groaned in pleasure at the aching as they were pushed in and back, spreading wider and wider, achingly wide.

Then the warm metal slid up into her chilly body. The feel of penetration was exquisite, and she whimpered helplessly as she sank slowly down its length, gasping and shuddering as she did, until it was pushed deep into her belly and she knelt, impaled.

Moaning, her hand slid down between her legs, feeling the soft flesh at the top of her pussy, feeling the swollen little bump there as she pressed it in against herself. She could feel the hard body of the metal shaft beneath the surface of her soft skin, traveling up deep inside her. Gasping weakly, she began to brush her slick. Leather covered fingers up and down against her clitoris, then from side to side. Her other hand slid up beneath her breast, squeezing and kneading the swollen flesh, soft leather brushing across her hardened nipple.

A small, remaining burst of pride knew some shame that she was doing this here, but it didn't matter. It was something to do, something that brought pleasure, and she was starving for anything pleasurable just then.

She began to move slowly up and down, gasping and moaning, her stiff body working for the first time in she knew not how long as she raised herself up and down on the metal cock. She raised up, panting, and something struck her head. She reached up and realized the hose was back! She moaned, hungering for more than pleasure.

She cocked her head back, sliding her lips over it, sucking, licking, continuing to ride up and down on the metal cock as she drew the other into her throat and sucked. The sexuality of it all did not escape her, but she no longer had the kind of concerns she would previously have had. She sucked and rode, panting, gasping, moaning, awash with the dizzying pleasure of sensory input.

She climaxed, crying out weakly, gurgling helplessly as she rode the metal cock. It ached as she jammed herself down too far and hard but she didn't care. The pleasure consumed her and she gave herself to it.