DAY FIVE

The Summoned awoke in the midst of a dream where everyone wore masks of their real faces and had on clothes so tight that every feature of their naked bodies was revealed. Every room she entered was a façade made up to look exactly like what it was hiding, and there was complete camera coverage from every efficient angle, but no one ever looked at a single second of footage.

“This is a simulation, right?” S said, slowly opening her eyes. “I’m the protagonist of a fetish version of The Sims.”

S had heard of the Simulation Hypothesis but never gave it much wondered. It at all times seemed like people were just expressing how egocentric their worldview was when they brought it up.

Four days and nights acting out her fantasies live and in living color had shaken her grasp on reality.

The Summoned made herself a breakfast of sugary cereal and black coffee. Sitting in the breakfast nook, S thought again how the Operator could have possibly learned about her forbidden feelings for her ex-boyfriend’s mom.

“If this is a VR game, or simulation, or whatever, it’s like, perfect.” S chewed on that wondered along with a heaping spoonful of Frosted Flakes. “Or maybe if my brain is wired directly in, it’s just fooling my brain into thinking every detail is perfect. And that’s how you learned about that memory.”

S finished breakfast and dumped the milk and the dregs of her coffee in the sink. She hand-washed the bowl and mug, toweled them both off and put them back in the cupboards.

“When the simulation is a perfect copy of reality, does it really matter? Like, if there’s no difference, and my brain can’t really tell on its own without doing a bunch of science stuff, it’s real either way, right?”

S went to the Gold Bathroom and dropped her robe. She saw herself in the glass walls of the shower cube and barely recognized the youthful, vulnerable woman in the reflections.

The Summoned figured standing under the torrent of 4 enormous showerheads worth of water ought to inspire the ultimate shower thoughts.

Instead, it was a cleansing, a moment of clarity amongst a weeklong flood of brainwaves.

The Summoned wasn’t gonna wait any longer. She dried off on the way to the Purple Armory.

There had been no voice to command her, no instructions on her dress or makeup. It was up to her now.

With so many choices, she couldn’t quite make up her mind. The decision had already been made, but she felt like she should try to change it.

“What difference does it make if I’m just going to end up naked? Who were these outfits for, really?”

The latex fetish wear was out, and so was the leather. Fun to look at, terrible to wear. She hadn’t ever worn a harness, so that might be cool. S hadn’t realized how much age-play stuff there was before. Footie pajamas, teddys, frilly baby-doll dresses, one-piece swimsuits, full ballerina ensembles. Now that she knew the pattern, it felt disturbing to her that she had to be summoned to The Pentacle to find out how much she was into role-playing sexual relationships that would be utterly inappropriate in real life.

“Where is the Ren-faire stuff? If I’m going to the stocks, you’d think there’d be a good serving wench or sexy pirate get-up.”

The only apparel left was fully body catsuits, a variety of underwear, and even a couple of skin-tight super-hero costumes. Weird.

And the schoolgirl stuff.

If I were being honest with myself, S wondered, I’d wear what I’ve wanted to, all along.

College in real life was totally boring and stupid for the Summoned. The only excitement was when she was treated poorly by her first and only high college boyfriend. Not excitement, more like mild trauma. Her sexual awakening was fueled almost entirely by watching adults pretend to be teens in dramas like Gilmore Girls, One Tree Hill, and even reruns of Twin Peaks.

Fuck Audrey Horne was hot, S wondered. I wanted to be her and get eaten out by her so bad.

“Fuck it, Sadie the Schoolgirl gets Summoned to the Pillory and Properly Punished. Let’s fucking do it.”

–

The Summoned stood with dignity before the Green Kitchen door.

She felt resplendent in the schoolgirl outfit. Thigh high white stockings inside black loafers, a red tartan skirt, properly buttoned up long sleeve white shirt, and matching red suspenders. There was a Spanking Academy blazer, but she felt cuter without it. She luxuriated in the hidden parts of the outfit, pure white cotton panties that perfectly hugged her booty and a matching thin cotton bralette that barely held back her pokies. Lifting the skirt in front of the mirror and seeing the hint of camel-toe, S finally got the panty fetish.

The best part was the gap between the stockings and the skirt; the Summoned knew that the word to describe that sexy patch of skin was ‘zettai ryōiki’ in Japanese. She even added a touch of eye shadow and mascara that was sure to run when the crying began. Fuck yeah.

Enough. It was time.

“Open the pod bay doors please, HAL.”

Nothing.

“Open the green door to THE STOCKS please, HAL.”

The door slid open upon her command. The chamber beyond held only one device, an old-fashioned pillory made of lacquered red oak. It faced her only a few feet beyond the catwalk. Once her neck and wrists were in place, she would only be able to see the walls of the triangular room that converged in front of her. Whoever, or whatever, was coming from the Member’s Door behind her could only be blindly anticipated.

The walls were tuned to a dark forest green color, but there was a large rectangle, starting from the bare concrete floor that was maybe 7 feet tall and 15 feet wide, of white on either side.

The Summoned crossed the catwalk into her last ordeal head held high. She had to lift the top panel of the stocks herself. It slid up the sides of the frame and was so perfectly balanced that it felt nearly weightless. She considered disrobing but decided it would be more fun for all involved for the tormentor to handle that solemn duty.

The wrist and neck holes were padded and the whole thing sat atop a circle of firm foam flooring.

Bending over to place her own wrists and neck in the pillory once would have probably taken all of her courage, or maybe even a command from a dominate party, but S found the act one of the easiest she had taken in her whole time in The Pentacle.

The top panel moved back down into place with perfectly engineered effortlessness. S tested her bondage: the padding held her firmly in place; she was unable to pull her arms or head free and trying to lift the top panel by standing up accomplished nothing.

And then she waited a while. S supposed the Operator was trying to create up tension, but she felt none.

She was surprised when the white rectangles on either side began displaying images, though.

On the left was the Summoned hogtied and gagged on THE BED. To the right, was S strapped to THE TABLE, legs spread in the stirrups, everything on display.

The left screen displayed a video montage of the Summoned’s ordeal in THE BED chamber played out in high-def ultra-realism. Mrs. Goode tying her up, down, sideways, and upside down, followed by Mr. Goode sticking his cock in wherever he wished, over and over. It ended with her double penetration and was replaced by a still shot of her tied to THE CHAIR wearing the company attire, her head covered in a black bag.

On the right, scenes of Benway’s procedure were cut together to great effect. Nurse Joan applying the electrodes and inserting the probes. S flat on her back, legs splayed, her body jerking and shuddering with each shock. Crying out as the Hurricane swamped her with orgasms. S proned, her ass in the air, wires from the probe lodged in her rectum jiggling as the pressure from the Volcano built to its explosive climax. S on her back for the Leviathan, arms and legs spread like the Vitruvian Man on the articulated limbs of THE TABLE, writhing to escape from the simulated tentacles roaming her body, probing her tender holes. A close-up of her astonished face as a dildo tipped robotic arm came around from somewhere underneath and penetrated her vagina, began to drill into her mercilessly. That video froze on her orgasm contorted face, eyes rolling mindlessly back into her skull.

“Oh, nice. You guys recorded every ordeal. Can you cut me a DVD of the best stuff?”

The right screen switched to a still image of her standing next to THE CROSS in the silly latex getup, while the left began showing S struggling against the ropes that bound her to THE CHAIR while the Hitachi forced an unpleasant orgasm.

“That sucked from inside the hood but, damn, it’s pretty hot to watch.”

The video jumped ahead to her bending over Pověstný, Nurse Joan dutifully belting her wrists, legs, and torso for the ass-whipping of a lifetime. Their banter felt light, even a little goofy to hear again, but all S could remember emotionally from the scene was respect for Nurse Joan and her exquisite care in return.

“I mean, this scene could get its own DVD, I’m just saying.”

The left screen froze on the Summoned’s tear drenched face in the foreground, Nurse Joan lifting the flogger to deliver another blow to her thoroughly abused bottom.

All that was left to watch was a supercut of herself stumbling through the domination of her tormentor on THE CROSS. The numerous angles revealed that the girl didn’t actually look that much like S; whatever trick of make-up and lighting the Operator used to fool her in the chamber didn’t translate to video.

S watched in dismay, reliving the moment once again as her little girl was cuffed, gaged, and bagged before being escorted down the stairs and out the member’s door. Knowing that the ending of their interaction was a calculated farce didn’t make it sting any less. Then both screens faded to black.

Or not black. There was something being displayed, but S couldn’t quite make it out. Silhouettes of something. People? The image flipped in the Summoned’s mind, not displayed but transparent, revealing what lay behind.

The screens on both sides then slid down to reveal a small crowd of people in dimly lit rooms gathered on either side, watching.

“I, uhh,” S stammered. “Is this for real?”

There were whispered voices on either side, but nothing S could make out for sure.

The lights came up in both viewing rooms. S recognized no one among the well-dressed crowd, but she did get the message.

“I’m not going to lie, this pretty fucked up. You people have been watching all along?”

More whispers, a few pointed gestures. No snickers or jeers, just cultured people critically admiring a piece of Avant Garde art.

“So, are you all my tormentors? Do you all get a turn on my backside while I’m in this thing?”

The viewing room lights went out, and the screens were raised back into place.

“I guess not,” S said, disappointed. “What the fuck was that?”

Words appeared on the screens; on the left “You are now free,” and on the right “Go and be well, Sadie.”

The top panel of the pillory slid up, releasing her. Sadie walked over to the left panel, touching the high-tech wall for the first time. It had a matte texture, and the seams were just as undetectable to the touch as they were invisible.

“I never said I didn’t want people watching me, so I guess that’s my bad.”

S looked at the pillory with some regret. She had expected a blowjob machine, or a robotic spanking arm, or a whole train of people reaming out her pussy and asshole.

“What’s the message here? That I like putting on a show?”

The lights came up and the chamber walls turned white, the same as if she had used her safeword.

“I guess that’s it then.”

–

Sadie discovered a care package had been prepared for her while she was in THE STOCKS. A rolling suitcase full of apparel, the cute pink bindings and choker, the penis gag, her new e-reader, and a few other odds and ends had been packed and was sitting by the door of the Purple Armory.

The man who presumably did the packing was there too, looking like he missed being able to scroll on his phone.

“You must be the Operator. I was beginning to think you weren’t real.”

“No, actually. I’m Mr. Wright, the daytime supervisor.”

Sadie approached cautiously, reaching an arm out to push on the man’s shoulder.

“This isn’t a simulation, and you are real.”

“Of course.”

“Hi, I’m Sadie,” she said, remembering herself.

“I know,” Mr. Wright laughed. He was middle age, tall with strong dad-bod vibes, had sandy brown hair and a beard, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He seemed sort of sad, but maybe Sadie was projecting.

“So, Mister Wright, like the Wright Brothers?”

“Sure,” the man chuffed. “I’m sure you have questions. I can answer some and help you to your ride. If you like, that is.”

“Oh gosh, yes! Where to start?”

A thousand questions crowded the exit like the fans of the losing hometown team leaving before the final buzzer.

“Uh, do other people go a little crazy like I did?”

“Yes,” Mr. Wright seemed to have more to say, but instead waited patiently for another question.

“If you’re not the Operator, who is? And what do you do?”

“So, I’m the daytime supervisor. Basically, I make sure that the Summoned doesn’t try to burn the place down or engage in self-harm.”

“And the Operator?”

“Is an expert system. I also make sure the computer equipment is all working, and the software is playing nice with the Summoned.”

“Like an A.I.?”

“Sort of. It doesn’t think and can’t really learn without input and software updates. You were right when you called it Alexa and Siri. The Operator is given access to your personal information, and it formulates a plan that The Pentacle staff and participants follow as closely as possible. It can anticipate and react to behavior, but that’s about it.”

“How does it know so much about me? I mean, I told the PNS interviewer a whole bunch of personal stuff, but the surveillance on display here is, like…”

“No more or less than what your average social network knows about you.”

“Oh, jeez.” Sadie was confounded. “I’ve gotta delete Facebook for sure, now. What happened in THE STOCKS?”

“You broke the program,” was all Mr. Wright offered. “Shall we?” He grabbed the suitcase and indicated the spiral staircase.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You should go ahead; this thing will be fun dragging up the stairs.”

He was right; the spiral staircase was wide, but Mr. Wright struggled all the way up.

“So, did you ever do this? Were you Summoned?”

“Yes. To work here for the Society, you have to be a participant.”

“How was it, I mean, for you?”

Mr. Wright stopped about three-quarters of the way up the stairs and fell silent.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Profound. It was profound.” He started back up the stairs.

They walked a long hallway that looked like every medical and professional office Sadie had ever visited. Gray carpet, off white walls, fluorescent lighting. There were several unmarked doors along the way, all closed.

“Was my experience anything like yours?”

“No,” Mr. Wright hesitated. Sadie didn’t think he would finish the wondered. “For one, I’ve got a dominant personality, and for another, you seem to be totally obsessed with getting bound to furniture.”

“I guess I am. I’m sorry, I don’t know you and I’m asking too personal a question.”

“It’s all good.”

The end of the long hallway ended in a wide bank of elevators, and two other identical hallways stretching off in either direction. Mr. Wright pressed the button and put his hands in his pockets like he expected to discover something in there. They waited.

“They don’t allow mobile devices in here, do they?”

“No. Operational security.”

“Makes sense. How do you kill time? Like, watching me get plowed on security screens all day has to get boring at some point.”

“I write.”

“Ah.”

The elevator arrived and they stepped in. Turing to face the closing doors, Sadie saw herself standing there in polished brass, looking too cute for words in her schoolgirl getup, next to a guy she would only notice on the street because of how tall he was. The elevator trundled slowly back down to earth.

“I read a lot, too. And there’s games. Nothing multiplayer in here, but someone brought in a Switch, and there’s a new Xbox and PS5 hooked up to the screen bank that I monitor.”

“Nice,” Sadie said, imagining the man playing Animal Crossing while his security screens offered up the vision of her being whipped by Nurse Joan.

The elevator stopped and opened, revealing a dusty, abandoned looking big-box store style warehouse. No merchandise, just rows and rows of empty racks and displays, checkout queues with unconnected wires where registers used to be, forgotten signage, even a dusty “Employee of the Month” display. Uncanny.

“Wow, how far back does that illusion go? I didn’t come in this way.”

“Everything behind that first line of empty racks is a high-definition display.”

They stopped before the employee exit.

“Look up, please.” They both looked up at the small glass dome of a security camera. There was a loud metallic clank, then the door opened on its own.

The PNS town car that pulled up just outside was a dark silver BMW sedan with tinted windows. Fancy, but nothing ostentatious enough to attract attention.

Sadie blinked in the sunlight, breathing outdoor air for the first time in nearly a week, and sneezed mightily.

The PNS facility was in an empty, closed-down shopping center in a generic middleclass neighborhood. It was warm and still and Sadie felt free but thought how long that feeling would last. Knowing what she now knew about herself, she would seek the comfort and excitement of being bound and dominated again soon enough.

“One more question,” Sadie promised. “What’s the most extreme thing you’ve seen being the daytime supervisor?”

“Uh,” he paused. “I can’t tell you that.”

Mr. Wright loaded her suitcase into the trunk and opened the rear passenger door for her.

“Why not? Confidentiality?”

“Uh, no. It’s not worth living with the mental image, actually. I’ve done my best to forget it, so I won’t burden you with it either.”

Sadie took Mr. Wright’s offered hand and stepped into the back seat.

“Thank you, Mr. Wright.”

“Of course, Sadie. I’m glad you had a memorable time.” He closed the door and went back inside, the employee exit door slamming shut behind him.

There was no driver; Sadie could see the vague image of a driver being displayed on the driver side window and the windshield. The only thing in the car besides her was her phone, sitting in the passenger seat beside her.

“Where would you like to go today?” The car asked in the same voice she had been hearing all week, summoning her to the chambers.

“Home, please.” The driverless car didn’t faze her in the least. The message alerts on her phone did. Rather than enjoy the rolling urban sprawl of the ride home with fresh eyes, Sadie grabbed her phone and opened her text messages with excitement.

There was a week’s worth of messages from her friends and family asking how her vacation was going, and someone (or something, the Operator, she assumed) who sure texted like her answered everything but the last few hours. The Operator even helpfully texted the explanation that there were no pictures due to a broken camera lens.

There was also an alert from the PNS “Norm-Info” app, but that could wait.

The best messages were the two most unexpected, arriving moments after the car started home: Nurse Joan congratulating her and Mrs. Goode inviting her to a small get together at her house on Mulholland Drive one week hence.

Sweet.