Beautiful woman whose job is to torture limbless, stumpless convicts forever. Female and male victims, adults and teenagers. Bunker miles underground.

When the nurse wheels you into the white clinical room of the torturer, you are already limbless, ball-gagged, and naked. The nurse bends to kiss your forehead, pressing her perfumed cleavage against you, then leaves you there alone to wait for the torturer.

The torturer arrives. She might wear seductive clothing, she might be topless or bottomless, she might be fully nude. She smiles, introduces herself, explains your situation, then sits down and reads about your crimes and who you are, offering some remarks as she reads. Sometimes she strokes your face or genitals, caresses your limbless body, rests her hand on your stomach. She watches your expression, watches the humiliation and frustration grow on your face as she violates you. She looks away whenever you attempt to express yourself with your face. She strangles you whenever you attempt to express yourself with your voice. Self-expression is for human beings, not helpless little nuggets who've had their personhood revoked.

When she has finished reading, she will ponder aloud about your fate. She will describe the tech at her disposal: tech that can rewire your brain, regress your physical age, keep you alive forever, keep your tissues in shape. She can rewire your emotions, senses, desires, memories, conscious thoughts, but she assures you you will still be yourself: her job is to punish YOU, not some stranger who used to be you.

What fate does she decide?

Will she play with you continually or set you up once and abandon you to your fate?

No two convicts are punished the same way.