Clara's choice

Clara shuffled down the corridor, hugging her sides and shivering.

The brunette had been repeatedly flushed through a network of pipes, every inch of her body blasted with ice cold water, doused in soap and scrubbed with rough brushes; Clara was convinced that the top few layers of skin had been removed.

When she was spat out of the tube for the final time, Clara buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Her whole body ached, frozen from the deluge of cold water. She was covered from head to foot in soap suds, but more embarrassing than everything...she had wet herself. Like a little girl.

When Clara had finally calmed down, she looked at her surroundings and climbed to her feet. Like the rest of the facility, the walls, ceiling and floor was blindingly white giving off absolutely no warmth to heat her small body. The brunette noticed an open door at the end of the passageway so, leaving a trail of water behind her, started towards it.

xxx

Clara's eyes lit up when she saw a chair in the middle of the room; she was only just realising how exhausted she was.

The naked girl hurried over to it, slipping and sliding as her soapy feet struggled for grip on the smooth floor.

The nude girl sat down, gasping as the cold metal touched her bare thighs and arse. The moment she sat down, metal restraints clamped around her ankles, thighs, waist, stomach and shoulders her arms where pined to the arm rests, with more restraints holding her wrists, biceps and forearms in position. Clara was secured so tightly that she couldn't even wriggle; the only thing the brunette could move was her hands, feet and head. Her knees were pulled gently apart, exposing her bare pussy.

Clara was terrified; her heart beating rapidly in her heaving chest, soap and water gently dripping onto the floor.

Suddenly three screens lowered from the ceiling in front of her. One was showing a feed of a room full of...oh God, full of glorious, hunger-sating FOOD. To Clara's horror, another informed her what was happening to her friends; repeatedly and endlessly washed, their screams and pleads for respite ringing in Clara's ears and mixing with the sounds of high pitched squeaks whenever they moved.

The third screen had just one word on it.

CHOOSE.

A pair of buttons appeared underneath Clara's hands, and she knew it was foolish to try and press both.

She could rescue her friends from their ****, but extend her own suffering. Or she could selfishly improve her own situation while leaving her friends to their fate.

The question is: which one does she choose?