My Confinement with the Annex Supervisor

I entered that confinement center for adult women after several months of chaos in my home. I’m not going to give real names or the exact place, but it was a large house adapted as an annex, with harsh rules, constant surveillance, and a hierarchy that asserted itself from the very first night. I was already a grown woman, but I arrived shaken, distrustful, and with the feeling that anyone could smell my fear.

The first inspection was cold and mechanical. They made me empty my pockets, leave my things on a plastic table, and strip so they could note scars and tattoos. The woman who received me, whom I’ll call Mirna, was proper, almost kind, and for a few hours I thought everything would be uncomfortable, yes, but routine.

I was wrong.

The next day they moved me to the area where I’d be staying. There another supervisor was in charge, a dark-skinned woman with a firm body, a husky voice, and a heavy gaze that seemed to undress you even before she said your name. I’ll call her Estela. The moment she saw me standing in the doorway, with my bag of clothes in my hand and a face that said I wanted to run, she smiled in a way that tightened my whole back.

—So you’re the new one —she said, without greeting me—. Come in and close the door.

I obeyed. The room smelled of bleach, dampness, and cheap perfume. There were two bunk beds, an old fan, and a small bathroom in the back. Estela sat in a metal chair, crossed her legs, and looked me over from head to toe as if evaluating merchandise.

—Everything gets checked twice here. Raise your arms.

She said it naturally, as if it were the most normal procedure in the world. I was wearing a short skirt, a sleeveless blouse, and sandals. That wasn’t permitted clothing there, and she told me so the second she saw me, with a sneer that made me feel more exposed than I already was.

—Take it all off.

—I was already searched before —I replied, trying to sound firm.

She tilted her head, amused.

—And I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.

The way she stressed that last word went straight through my chest. I hesitated for a few seconds, but confinement had already taught me that resisting certain things only brought more trouble. I took off my blouse first, then my skirt, my underwear, and finally my sandals. I was left naked in front of her, my arms pressed against my body out of sheer shame.

—Hands behind your neck.

I did it. Estela stood up slowly, planted herself in front of me, and started touching me with a method that at first seemed clinical: neck, armpits, waist, sides. But it quickly stopped looking like a search. Her fingers lingered too long on my breasts, circled a nipple, squeezed it with cruel gentleness, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

—So you get nervous easily —she murmured.

—Just finish it —I said.

—Don’t talk to me like that.

She grabbed my chin, forcing me to hold her gaze. She had dark, calm eyes, the kind that belong to people who enjoy being in control without needing to raise their voice. With her other hand, she slid down my belly and brushed between my legs with two closed fingers. It was a brief touch, almost a tease, but enough to make my whole body tense.

—Open your legs wider.

I wanted to protest. I didn’t. I spread my feet and she ran the pads of her fingers over my sex with blatant insolence, as if checking something only she understood. The contact was wet and direct. I bit my lip on reflex.

—You’re sensitive —she said, smiling when she noticed.

—It doesn’t mean anything.

—It means exactly what I’m seeing.

She slid in one finger, then another, slowly, twisting her wrist with humiliating precision. I was furious, scared, and, to top it off, my body was responding. That was the part that threw me off the most: feeling anger and arousal at the same time, a filthy mixture that made me want to shove her away and beg her to keep going.

When she pulled her fingers out, she made me turn around.

—Back to me. Don’t lower your hands.

I felt her palms on my ass, separating my cheeks just enough, tracing me with obscene confidence. She gave me a short, sharp slap, hard enough to make me jump.

—Nice ass. You’ll learn fast.

—I’m not yours —I snapped.

Estela came so close behind me that I could feel her breath on my nape.

—While you’re here, you obey.

She made me do squats, count out loud, and keep my hands on my head. Every time I went down, she touched me: an open palm on my ass, firm fingers on the inner thighs, light nails along my waist. It wasn’t normal discipline. It was a power game, and we both knew it.

When I finished, she ordered me to stay still. She left the room without explaining anything and came back with another woman, tall, short-haired, and a man from security who looked about forty. Both adults, both with that expression people have after seeing everything between those walls. They closed the door behind them. That’s when I knew the situation had just become a lot more serious.

—The new girl thinks she can argue —Estela said.

The other woman, whom I’ll call Nora, watched me without rushing.

—Then we’ll have to teach her how the house works.

The man didn’t say anything at first. He just leaned against the wall, looking at me naked with a calm that gave me goosebumps. I still had my hands behind my neck, exposed and tense, feeling that if I lowered my arms I would make everything worse.

—Can I get dressed now? —I asked, though it came out weaker than I wanted.

Estela let out a low laugh.

—Not yet.

She grabbed me by the wrist and took me to the bathroom. Nora came in behind us. The place was cramped, with worn tiles and a stained mirror. Estela locked the door. The confinement, the nudity, and the two of them made it hard for me to swallow.

—Hands against the wall —ordered Nora.

I did it. I immediately felt Estela’s hands running over my back, my waist, and then my ass with firm pressure. Nora pushed my hair away from my neck and held it in a fist, not with violence, but with that exact pressure that reminds you that you’re not in control. Estela opened my legs with her knee and slid her hand between my thighs.

—Look at how wet she is —she said—. She says no, but she gets wet anyway.

My face burned with shame. I wanted to deny it, turn around, break free. Nora gripped my hair more tightly.

—Still.

Estela started rubbing my pussy with no gentleness at all, stroking with her palm, parting my lips with her fingers, using my wetness to smear me more. Every touch was too direct. I gasped against the cold tile, hating the sound coming out of my mouth.

—You like being told what to do —Estela whispered in my ear.

—No.

She shoved two fingers into me at once. My “no” broke into a moan.

She moved inside me in a rough rhythm, in and out while her thumb pressed against my clit. Nora let go of my hair only to take one breast in her hand and twist my nipple. I bent slightly, trembling. The two of them coordinated their movements with a naturalness that made it clear this was not the first time they’d played like this with someone.

—Say it properly —Nora demanded—. Say you like it.

—I’m not saying that.

Estela sped up her fingers, deep, wet, noisy. My body betrayed any attempt at dignity. My knees went weak and I had to lean harder against the wall to keep from falling.

—You’re coming while two women give you orders and you still want to act tough —Estela said, almost amused.

I didn’t want to admit it, but I was on the edge. My belly was clenched, my sex throbbing, and my nipples were hard from pure stimulation. When Nora licked my neck and bit my shoulder, I broke. I let out a long, obscene moan and came against the wall while Estela kept moving her fingers, forcing the orgasm to stretch out.

They only let me catch my breath for a few seconds.

—Now you’re going to learn —said Nora.

***

They took me to the back room, a maintenance room with rolled-up mats, old sheets, and cleaning supplies. It wasn’t elegant or comfortable; it was exactly the kind of place where power feels roughest. The man was still there. His name was Ramiro, as I heard when Estela spoke to him. He locked the door and stayed there watching us, waiting for instructions.

—Face down —ordered Estela.

—No.

The answer came out automatically. Estela stared at me hard. Nora pushed me with one hand on my back and the other on my nape, guiding me toward the mat. It wasn’t a long fight; I was turned on, confused, and scared, and they knew it. I ended up on my knees first, then lying face down while Estela tied my wrists behind my back with a thick strip of cloth.

—Don’t hurt yourself by resisting —she murmured—. If you cooperate, it goes better for you.

They tied my ankles too and then joined both restraints together, leaving me arched, unable to close my legs properly. The position made me helpless in a brutal way. I felt the air brushing between my ass cheeks and a wave of shame as strong as the arousal I was trying to deny.

Estela gave me a hard slap on the ass. Then another. Then a third, lower, right where the ass meets the thighs. The sting made me moan.

—That much you do know how to do —Ramiro said when he heard me.

I clenched my teeth.

Nora knelt in front of my face. She ran two fingers over my lips and slid them into my mouth.

—Suck them.

I did it purely by instinct. She pulled them out slowly, wet, and smiled with open satisfaction. Meanwhile, Estela spread my legs wider and spat on my pussy before rubbing me again. Her hand sounded wet between my thighs. She was working me without pause, alternating caresses with slaps, keeping my body burning.

—Ramiro —she said—, come here.

I heard him move closer. He crouched beside me and took my chin. He smelled of cheap soap and clean sweat. He didn’t handle me gently, but he also wasn’t blindly brutal; there was something measured in the way he touched me, as if he followed the internal rules of that game.

—If you say red, it stops —he told me, looking straight at me—. If you don’t say it, we keep going. Understood?

I nodded. I needed that minimal certainty not to fall apart completely.

Estela spread my ass cheeks wider and Ramiro positioned himself behind me. I felt the tip of his cock brush my entrance, sliding up and down, smeared with my wetness. My whole body went rigid.

—Breathe —ordered Nora.

When Ramiro entered me, he did it slowly at first, opening me with a dense pressure that drew a moan from me. He wasn’t delicate, but he wasn’t wildly violent either. He sank all the way in and stayed there for a second, inside me, letting me feel his thickness and the strain of the position. I was panting against the mat, saliva wetting my mouth and my face burning hot.

—Look how she tightens up —said Estela, stroking my back—. She’s not saying no anymore.

Ramiro started moving. At first, slowly, marking each full entry. Then harder. Each thrust made me slide a few centimeters over the mat. The restraints forced me to arch more, which made each stroke go deeper. I moaned, cursed, tried to keep myself cold. I couldn’t.

Nora pried my mouth open with her fingers and spat lightly onto my tongue.

—Swallow.

I did. She smiled and started fingering me with two quick fingers, focused on my clit, while Ramiro fucked me from behind. The combination was immediate and devastating. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of me mixed with my gasps and Estela’s low comments, as she narrated what she saw as if she wanted to humiliate me even more.

—That’s it, slut. Look at yourself. Tied up, open, and shaking.

I came again without warning, in a spasm that clenched me from the inside and drew a growl from Ramiro. He used that contraction to fuck me harder. His hips started slapping my ass with a dry, steady rhythm that left me breathless between one thrust and the next.

—Fuck, you squeeze good —he said, no longer calm like at the start.

Estela pulled up slightly by my hair to force me to lift my face.

—Tell him how much you like it.

—Go to hell —I managed to say.

Ramiro drove in so deeply that the insult turned into a broken moan. The three people around me laughed. Shame burned me, but I was already too far inside that whirlwind to pretend it didn’t affect me.

Nora knelt between my legs and licked my pussy while Ramiro kept fucking me. The tongue, the cock, and Estela’s occasional slaps pushed me to a point where I only reacted. I came again with a muffled cry against the mat, soaking Nora’s face, and she didn’t pull away. She kept licking and sucking until I started writhing from overstimulation.

—Enough, enough —I panted.

—You haven’t said red —Estela reminded me.

I didn’t say it.

Ramiro let out a hoarse groan and emptied himself inside me after several clumsy, heavy thrusts, gripping my hip hard to keep me open. I felt the heat of his cum and the final pulse of his body before he pulled out. I was left breathing in ragged bursts, stuck to the mat, my legs weak and my sex throbbing.

But they weren’t done with me.

Estela signaled to Ramiro to move aside and positioned herself behind me. Her fingers pushed away the semen and my own wetness, smearing everything more. Then she put her tongue between my ass cheeks and slowly worked her way down to my pussy, licking me deeply. The contrast between the roughness before and that wet, focused attention split me in two.

—You taste so good when you’re left open —she murmured against my skin.

Nora stripped from the waist down and sat in front of my face. She had no intention of asking permission; she grabbed my hair and pressed her pussy to my mouth.

—Now you work.

I stuck out my tongue and tasted her. She was wet, hot, with that strong, real flavor unlike anything else. She let out an immediate gasp, pressed my face against her sex, and started rocking over my mouth. Licking her like that, tied up, while Estela kept eating me from behind, was so intense that it left me with no sense of up or down, shame or desire, obedience or hunger.

Nora made me stick my tongue out farther, suck her clit, take two fingers when she guided them in. Every time I did it right, she yanked my hair and moaned; every time I slackened, she gave me a light slap on the cheek to wake me up.

—Don’t stop —she said—. That’s it, that’s it, fuck.

Estela, for her part, shoved two fingers into me again while she sucked my clit from behind in an impossible but effective position. I was trapped between the two of them, used as if my body were part of a practical lesson. And the worst, or the best, depending on how you look at it, was that by then I didn’t want to get out of there anymore; I wanted more.

Nora came first. She drenched my mouth with a long moan, trembling over my face. I kept licking her until she pulled away, oversensitive. Then Estela turned me over however she could, still tied, and straddled my belly.

—Open your mouth.

I did. She spat into it and then kissed me, sliding her tongue into my mouth hungrily, mixing saliva, orders, and a salty taste that made me dizzy. Then she lowered a hand between my legs and started fingering me with cruel precision, never breaking the rhythm, staring straight into my eyes.

—I want to see you come again.

—I can’t anymore —I said, and it sounded almost like a plea.

—Of course you can.

She pinched one nipple with her other hand. I moaned. Her fingers kept working, fast, slippery, hitting exactly where my body was most swollen and sensitive. I writhed in the restraints, spreading my legs as much as the position allowed, feeling my belly and thighs tighten.

—Ask for it.

I looked at her, panting, defeated.

—Make me come.

Her smile was small, satisfied, dangerous.

—Now that sounds better.

She sped up. There was no tenderness. Only rhythm, pressure, and control. My orgasm burst over me like a prolonged shock. I came trembling, my hips trying to flee and at the same time seeking more, letting out a filthy moan that was swallowed by her mouth when she kissed me again. Estela didn’t stop until she left me completely empty, weak, and sweaty.

Only then did they untie me.

***

I stayed sitting on the mat, legs apart and wrists marked red. Ramiro had already dressed and was waiting by the door. Nora was wiping herself down with an old towel. Estela tossed me a loose T-shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

—Get dressed.

I did it in silence, my pulse still racing. My body felt used from head to toe: hot ass, swollen pussy, bitten neck, sore mouth. But what weighed on me most was the confusion. I couldn’t reduce what had happened to a single word. There had been dominance, pressure, and a surrender that I ended up accepting in a way I still find hard to explain without contradictions.

When I finished dressing, Estela adjusted the collar of my shirt with an almost domestic naturalness.

—Listen carefully. There are rules here. If you get defiant, you get corrected. If you cooperate, everything runs better.

Ramiro added, in a dry tone:

—And what happens in this room stays in this room.

Nora looked at me with a half-smile.

—But don’t make that face. You didn’t exactly come out disgusted.

I didn’t answer her. Maybe because it irritated me that she was partly right. Maybe because I could still feel every one of their hands on my body. Or maybe because, beneath the exhaustion, an indecent curiosity was already taking shape in me about what would happen the next time Estela closed a door with me inside.

We went back up to the main dormitory. Outside, the annex still sounded like buckets, footsteps, and muffled murmurs. No one would have imagined what had just happened in that back room. Estela pointed to an empty bunk.

—That’s your bed. Tomorrow you clean the bathrooms and wash the patio. And when I call you, you come without asking questions.

I nodded.

That night I lay down with my body exhausted and my mind in knots. I had arrived thinking confinement would break me only because of the rules. I never imagined it would also strip me from the inside, forcing me to recognize desires I had never wanted to name. I lived it, I kept quiet about it, and for a long time I kept it as a dark memory. But when I tell it now, I do so without pretending innocence: there was fear, yes, but also a brutal surrender to domination, punishment, and the pleasure of obeying when there’s no room left for self-deception.