The Full Submission

Nurse Red Elk lay strapped to the infirmary bed, her wrists and ankles secured tightly. Her eyes darted nervously, though her body remained subdued from the lingering effects of the CVI. The room was dimly lit, save for the faint glow of the television screen mounted on the wall in front of her. Garrett and Miranda stood nearby, their presence exuding a mix of authority and menace.

Miranda adjusted the CVI device, syncing it with the television. "This should do it," she murmured, her voice steady with a hint of anticipation. She handed Garrett a set of headphones, the faint hum of the Audio Turing Device (ATD) already emanating from them.

"Let’s begin," Garrett said, placing the headphones over Red Elk’s ears. Her body stiffened slightly as the soundwaves from the ATD enveloped her. Miranda pressed play on the television, and the screen flickered to life.

Images began to cascade across the screen—historical depictions of colonization, battles, and conquest. The visuals included moments specific to Red Elk’s cultural history: images of Native American tribes **** from their lands, ceremonial leaders **** into signing treaties, and stark contrasts between traditional ways of life and imposed colonial systems. These scenes aimed to erode her identity further, targeting the pride she once held in her heritage. The narrative positioned Garrett as the natural successor to this history, the culmination of order and dominance that her people had always been destined to serve. These visuals were tailored specifically for Red Elk, drawing on her cultural history. Scenes of Native resistance juxtaposed with brutal defeats were followed by images of tribes **** into submission, their leaders bowing before colonists. The recording emphasized how independence had led only to suffering, framing it as a cycle doomed to repeat unless she embraced a new order. Every image was designed to resonate deeply, to erode her identity and replace it with a singular purpose: serve and submit to Garrett. The narrative that accompanied the visuals was carefully curated, designed to seep into Red Elk’s subconscious.

"Your people lost because they were weak," the voice on the recording droned. "White colonists triumphed because they understood power, order, and strength. To thrive, your people must submit. Independence brings only suffering. Embrace the natural order. You long to kneel before strength. You long to kneel before Garrett."

Red Elk’s breathing quickened as the images grew more intense. Her resistance faltered, her gaze fixed on the screen, unable to look away. The voice continued, weaving a new narrative into her mind. "Your suffering ends when you serve. Garrett is the apex. You will bow to him. All will bow to him. Let yourself be colonized."

As the session continued, Garrett watched intently, his arms crossed. He turned to Miranda, his voice low but tinged with curiosity. "What exactly did you program into this?"

Miranda smirked, her gaze never leaving Red Elk. "A little truth, a little reinforcement," she replied cryptically. "She needed to understand where she stands in the natural order. And by morning, she will."

Garrett raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "Is it going to work?"

"Oh, you’ll see, Master," Miranda said with a sly grin. "But I do recommend giving her a proper lesson tonight. Physical reinforcement does wonders for these situations."

Garrett chuckled, stepping closer to Red Elk. "Well then," he murmured, "let’s make sure she understands." His thoughts churned with satisfaction as he weighed the implications of his actions. This isn’t just about breaking one woman; it’s about proving the scope of my control, he thought. The CVI and ATD weren’t just tools—they were manifestations of his growing dominion. Red Elk’s submission would be a testament to his power, a model for what could be done to others who dared resist. His thoughts raced, a mix of calculated strategy and indulgent satisfaction. Every step I take with her is a step toward complete control, he mused. Red Elk wasn’t just another conquest—she was a symbol of how deeply the CVI and ATD could reshape someone. This was more than an experiment; it was proof of his growing dominion.

Garrett leaned over Red Elk, his presence overwhelming. He loosened the straps holding her down, the ATD still humming softly over the headphones in her ears. Her breath hitched as his hand traced a firm line along her cheek, his touch deliberate and possessive.

"You’re mine now," Garrett said, his voice low and commanding. "Every part of you belongs to me. Say it."

Red Elk’s lips trembled, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "I’m yours."

"Good girl," Garrett muttered, a note of satisfaction lacing his tone.

Miranda stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Master, may I?" she asked, her voice tinged with anticipation. Her motivations were a potent mix of loyalty and ambition, driven by her fascination with the CVI’s effects and her desire to prove her worth. She saw herself not just as Garrett’s tool, but as his architect in reshaping minds—a position that brought her both power and purpose. Garrett gave a slight nod, and Miranda climbed onto the bed, positioning herself in front of Red Elk. She grabbed the woman’s hair, guiding her head forward with an air of dominance. "Show me you understand," Miranda commanded.

Red Elk, her resistance completely eroded, obeyed without hesitation. Miranda let out a soft moan, her dominance palpable as Garrett watched from above. The room was charged with a heavy atmosphere of control and submission, the dynamic between them feeding an unspoken rhythm.

Garrett repositioned Red Elk, forcing her onto her knees. "Ass up," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Now I’ll colonize your next hole," he murmured, his voice dripping with authority.

The night stretched on, with Garrett asserting himself repeatedly. By the time he finally collapsed onto the bed, Miranda knelt beside him, massaging his shoulders. Red Elk was at his feet, her lips wrapped around him, her expression one of complete surrender.

Miranda chuckled, leaning closer to whisper in Garrett’s ear. "Master, they all fall in the end. Those little troublemakers—Santiago, Elliot, and Jared—they’ll be next. I’ll make sure Anita lets them in my hands for rehabilitation. And once they’re truly ours, the rest of the inmates will follow."

Garrett smirked, leaning back as Miranda’s words sank in. "Let’s make it happen," he said. "We’ve only just begun." His mind churned with long-term possibilities. White Hollow is just the start, he mused. This moment wasn’t just about breaking Red Elk; it was about laying the groundwork for something much larger—a blueprint for reshaping power structures on his terms. Every conquest here was a step closer to absolute control, and he intended to make the most of it.

After a long night of "conditioning" their new recruit, Garrett and Miranda returned to Red Elk’s infirmary room as dawn broke. The air was heavy with the scent of control and submission. Red Elk remained strapped to the bed, her body still and her expression serene, her posture unnaturally calm. Her chest rose and fell in steady, shallow breaths, while her eyes stared blankly ahead, reflecting the light of the room. The taut muscles in her hands, now relaxed at her sides, betrayed the intensity of her complete submission. Every movement—or lack thereof—spoke of a mind reshaped, awaiting Garrett’s next command without hesitation or thought.

"Let’s see if she’s still functional," Garrett said, his tone probing.

Miranda knelt beside Red Elk, snapping her fingers. The nurse blinked, coming to life with startling eagerness. She crawled forward, planting a kiss on Garrett’s feet. "Oh, my Chief," she murmured. "Please forgive me for my insolence. This lowly woman has shamed herself before you. I will serve you completely."

Garrett smirked, gripping her braids tightly and pulling her head up to meet his gaze. "Good girl," he said. "You’ll serve me every minute. You’ll observe, report, and help me break the others. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Red Elk replied, her voice trembling with devotion.

Miranda watched with satisfaction, crossing her arms. "She’s perfect now," she said, her tone filled with pride.

Garrett chuckled, releasing Red Elk and stepping back. "Then let’s get to work. The day’s just beginning, and we’ve got a lot to do."

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