Day 40?It must be the first time since Ray had arrived that there was a true, dead silence in the room. Once everything was said and done, the three of them simply returned to their beds, each sulking about what had happened in their own way.

  That is after Ray had yelled at Amy for a little bit, of course. Nothing that he’d said was wrong, per se, and she understood he’s taking out his frustration at the whole situation on her. She should have helped, he insisted, or at least pretended to, so he could have false hope rather than the stab in the back he got. She ought to have done anything except hold Dar close and stop the girl from being able to choose for herself in doing so.

  Amy said she could feel how afraid the girl had been, and Ray scoffed at that. Of course Dar was afraid, and so was he. But he had the choice to fight back whilst Dar had the option of giving in enforced upon her, Amy holding her close like a stuffed animal whilst being more terrified than both of them combined.

  All she could do in the situation was nod her agreement, too ashamed about what she did to really challenge him on false accusations like her being scared anymore. She hates fighting with her friend, and it feels like it’s the only thing they’ve done since they were reunited.

  Amy has, perhaps, not made the best possible impression on Ray in the first day or so, and she needs to take some responsibility for that. Maybe they should have a — what did the tenderqueers call it? An ‘accountability process’? It’s some Maoist rubbish like that, at least.

  It’s hard not to hate herself right now.

  She didn’t resist at all when Kelynen came to pick her up for some vague, unstated reason. In fact, Amy was quite happy to leave, to get away from the people she hurt and give them a moment without her destructive influence. Even being informed that she was being taken for a meeting with Eira only slightly ruined her mood.

  It’s not something she’d do for fun, but it still beats having to look her friends in the eyes.

  Amy wasn’t sure what to expect from the office of a woman like Eira. She’s a maid— they aren’t supposed to have offices. Sure, this particur maid is also in charge of operating some forced feminisation operation, but that doesn’t make it any easier on her capacity to visualise the room she’ll be stuck in for however long her tormentor sees fit.

  The one thing she expected, though, was that everything would be immacute and designed to make Amy feel certain things. It’s not what she got: instead, she’s ended up in an equally stately room as the rest of the building, but with cardboard moving boxes shoved into one corner, a desk cluttered with all sorts of things diagonally across from it. Eira is peering into a cabinet filled with gsses and bottles of alcohol in the remaining part of the room, as far away from the door as she can be.

  She seems to be busy choosing between two bottles of whiskey, not paying much attention to anything around her. Amy would think that she’d have heard the door open, Kelynen speaking for a moment, the door closing again and locking— but the woman hasn’t reacted to it at all. Her back is exposed to a prisoner of hers! Who knows what could happen!

  Amy takes a sneaky step forwards, more out of interest than anything.

  “Patience, young dy.” Eira says. “I know what you like, don’t worry.”

  “As in whiskey?” Amy asks, even more confused than she was before.

  “Naturally. Now that you know I’m having something to drink tonight it’d be rather rude not to offer you the same, wouldn’t it?” Eira turns around and rolls her eyes at Amy. “Feel free to sit down whilst you wait.”

  There are two chairs in the room; a rather rge looking swivel chair behind the desk and an uncomfortable wooden chair without armrests in front of it. The desk sits at a slight elevation compared to the little chair, meaning Amy will inevitably have to look up towards Eira in what is yet another humiliation.

  Perhaps the room is more immacutely designed than Amy had realised — it’s just a work-in-progress rather than a finished product designed to exert the dominance the woman clearly thinks she has.

  “I’d rather stand.” Amy responds, resting her hands on the back of the chair. “Rather bad for your body to be sitting down all the time.”

  “I insist.” Eira smiles, pouring two gsses of Irish whiskey. “Standing won’t do you good if you’ll be drinking in your current state. Estrogen does funny things to your alcohol tolerance.”

  “I fear I won’t be having a drink either.” Amy doesn’t distrust the drink itself — she just doesn’t want to be inebriated around someone she knows is dangerous and capable of hurting her.

  “If you didn’t want a drink you shouldn’t have dared interrupt a woman getting ready for a meeting she had pnned to happen in fifteen minutes or so.” Eira walks over to the desk and sets down one gss on each side. “Sit.”

  “Kelynen must have messed up your pnning, then.” Amy crosses her arms, losing patience already. The woman is pying 3d chess whilst she wants a simple game of checkers.

  “I just expected you to make more trouble coming down here and assumed a bit of a dey.” Eira frowns, picking her taser up from her desk and fiddling with it for a moment. “But rather than picking a fight with her — which you shouldn’t, as Lulu is an absolutely lovely woman — you seem to have decided to initiate your insubordination in my office. A shame. I almost thought you had learned to behave at this early a stage of the programme.”

  Amy scoffs at the mere suggestion that she would be submitting to Eira, Kelynen, or any other woman. “I can assure you—”

  “I’m sure you could. But I don’t have all evening. You have a tendency to yap on at times.”

  She isn’t going to take this level of hypocrisy. “You’re worse than me.”

  “If the Victorians could turn a simple flower girl into a princess, an Irish one can learn to talk like a stuck-up Tory.” Eira gestures at the chair again.

  “Very funny.” Amy gres. She doesn’t know whether the maid is copying her or not— it wouldn’t make much sense to do so, unless she was that committed to merely annoying her.

  Losing patience, Eira aims her taser at Amy’s torso. “Sit down. This is your st warning.”

  Amy rolls her eyes and lowers herself onto the chair. “Yes, yes, I get it. I need to be a good little boy so you can finish this conversation before the whiskey and estrogen conspire to leave you too drunk to continue it.

  “I’d rather you be a good girl.” Eira looks down on her from her chair. “But you haven’t exactly been well-behaved, have you?”

  “Are you going to have one of your little rants about how mean I was to women and such again?” If there’s something she isn’t up to dealing with after today, it’s Eira — if there’s something she’s even less capable of dealing with, it’s Eira with another one of her obnoxious lectures.

  “I’m sure you’d love to discuss that again, but no— it’s about a little plot of yours I’d heard about whilst inspecting the camera footage. Specifically, the one you and Jenny have discussed today. I was rather shocked to find out that there are escape pns, including ones that would see some pretty horrible violence inflicted on my friends.”

  Amy can’t help but notice the usage of the word ‘friends’ as opposed to ‘colleagues’.

  “Okay?” She leans back in her chair. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I don’t think I have to tell you what’s wrong with that. There were suggestions of possibly lethal violence.”

  “Not the violence! You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong with that.” Amy can’t believe this woman is like this. “Of course it isn’t bloody okay.”

  “Well, what part is acceptable then?” Eira leans forward, seeming curious for a second.

  “Both of us have been kidnapped.” Amy gres at Eira, unhappy she has to expin something so obvious to a smart, educated woman. “We have every right to try to escape from this situation, indeed, it’s an entirely natural and expected response. You would have done the same.”

  Eira nods, satisfied. “You’re right. I don’t bme you. If I were theoretically captured, I’d have done the same, though perhaps with more awareness of the cameras and microphones recording my every action and word.”

  “So surely there’s no actual problem to be had here.” Amy gets up from the chair. “Can I leave now? I’ve better things to do than be lectured over something you’re clearly not above yourself.”

  “Did I say we were finished, Ms. Finch?” Her captor says with as much authority as a mere woman can fill a voice with. “Please return to your seat.”

  Amy stands still, arms crossed, gring at Eira. Perhaps it’s a little childish to be rebelling over this of all things, but it’s really time she did something again. The woman ordered such horrible things to be done to her friends, and all Amy could do was sit there and watch.

  “Alright, then.” The maid sighs and gives her the most annoyed look she can manage. She realises what will have to be done. If Eira doesn’t act, Amy would win this confrontation, and she’d prove herself incapable of using the power she likes to threaten her with. Eira stands up from her chair, giving Amy another warning in the process, and takes a second to aim her taser at the girl in front of her.

  Amy lets it happen. She needs it to happen, for her own conscience. So she doesn’t have to agree with Ray that she didn’t even pretend to fight back.

  The electricity rushes through her body and inflicts a level of pain Amy had scarcely imagined before.Everything seems to hurt for a moment, most of all around the point of contact near her belly. Her body gives in almost immediately, the nerves overwhelmed and her muscles shutting off.

  She’s being picked off the floor and sat back down in the uncomfortable chair. It’s worse than she thought it would be. Eira made sure to find a pair of handcuffs and connect Amy’s right arm to the very top of the back legs of the chair, practically guaranteeing she would have to continue to sit down for the remainder of the conversation, her dominant arm limp next to her torso.

  Some parts of her body are still on high alert, though they are mostly the parts she wishes she never had — the hair on her arms and her legs most prominently, though other stereotypically male features have made their presence quite obvious as well.

  “Now that that’s over with,” Eira empties her gss of whiskey to really show just how much she disapproved of her own actions there. “I need to ask you to empathise with me for a second as well. Imagine, if you will, that you manage an operation such as this, and you hear of people plotting their escape. You have two options: let them do as they wish and endanger your friends or punish them for their conspiracy. What would you do?”

  Amy looks away from Eira, unwilling to look her in the eyes as she admits the obviously correct answer. “Punish them.”

  “Indeed. It’s not something I particurly like doing—”

  Amy rolls her eyes. It would almost be believable if she wasn’t in charge of this whole operation. The whole programme is supposed to be one big punishment.

  “— but it is natural and inevitable given the circumstances. If I didn’t punish you I would be encouraging simir behaviour in the future, and I cannot afford to do that.”

  She nods.

  “Now, given your obvious insubordination, I cannot be entirely certain that you wouldn’t continue with any plot if I let you go at this point. My initial conclusion is that you should be returned to the cells until you learn to behave— but perhaps you could argue me out of that?” Eira leans forward and looks down upon Amy. She’s clearly funting her power and enjoying just how helpless Amy is to stop it.

  “I doubt I could.” She responds. “You’ve clearly made up your mind.”

  If anything, she’s just trying to drag things out, showing just how much power she has over Amy’s life and how she can afford to toy with the girl at any point.

  “Surely there are some mitigating circumstances.” Eira frowns. “I can think of a few.”

  “I don’t have to tell you if you can already think of them.” Amy can’t believe this woman. Is she really going to humiliate her like this? By making her admit her fws, restrained to a stupid chair and behind locked doors, prying answers she’d rather not give out of her yet again?

  “I know you had some opinions on the concept of a violent escape.” Eira leans back in her chair, improving her posture a little as she prepares for what has to be a long conversation. Though, given her situation, Amy can’t help but gaze at the maid’s bosom for a millisecond, beautifully emphasised by the tailored bck-and-white dress. “And that there was a bit of a disagreement.”

  “Was there?” She feigns innocence.

  “There certainly was. Jenny believed that using weapons might be justified. Now, where would that leave you in that discussion?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want to do things like that.” Amy obscures the admission as much as possible to hide just how pathetic of an answer this is.

  “Why not?” Eira slightly raises an eyebrow. Her blue eyes are really pretty.

  “Because violence is—” Amy tries to avoid getting too worked up. “It’s wrong. It’s disgusting. I don’t want to do some of the things Ray suggested, and I know he doesn’t like them either, but… I won’t. I would never.”

  Settling issues by violence is perhaps the most masculine thing Amy can think of. And whilst she doesn’t want to be a woman, she also doesn’t want to be a particurly masculine man, one who enforces his will so brutishly— she wants to be passably male. Not the pinnacle of it. There’s only so much masculinity she can handle before her dysphoria completely overwhelms her coping mechanisms.

  “And you told Jenny that and she reluctantly agreed to drop it.” Eira smiles, content both with her victory and that Amy seemingly won’t be a threat, not in that way at least. “Is that not a mitigating circumstance?”

  “I s’pose it is.” Amy mumbles and wishes she were anywhere else.

  “Now, trying to limit the possible harm committed against others is no doubt something we try to instill in you girls. The fact you agree with us, at least in certain contexts, is something we greatly appreciate. Something else we appreciate is trying to help others as much as you can. It’d be nice if you were acting with good intent as well.” Eira suggests.

  Amy tries to consider what kind of reverse psychology the woman is trying to apply to her this time. She’s saying they want to instill a non-violent attitude in the ‘girls’, and praises Amy for already having one. Normally she would be inclined to do the exact opposite of what Eira wants her to do, especially when it applies to apparent programme goals, but it feels like a trap. She wants her to become more violent so she has more reason to punish her. Punishing her means even more opportunities to break her. Amy needs to stay the course.

  She blinks for a moment, getting a little bit too distracted. It takes her a moment to remember Eira’s earlier suggestion. “If getting out of here is a good intent, it sure was. Though I don’t think you’ll accept that argument.”

  “It is indeed not the answer I was looking for.” Eira shakes her head. “I heard from Vivi that you really seem to care about Faith. You have moved to protect her multiple times already, once against being tased, and today when she was anxious about receiving the healthcare she needs—”

  Amy interrupts her, angered at the suggestion that forcible feminisation is necessary treatment in any sense. “Which she did not want.”

  “I’m sure she’ll come to want it soon enough.” Eira says dismissively, then continues with her argument like nothing happened. “Whilst we had expected solidarity, I’m not sure we expected it to be as intense as the support you’ve shown your friend.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it is rather praiseworthy. Seeing you defend her even in her absence is lovely to see — even if the threats are very much imaginary. I would posit that you want to escape because you wish to protect her from this harm you cim we inflict. Am I correct in that?”

  “You could say that.” Amy blushes and looks down at the floor, her legs pressed together.

  “So you acted with good intent.” Eira looks down at Amy, reveling in just how much she is degrading the girl across from her. “Thirdly, and maybe most importantly, you are still recovering from an earlier feeble attempt at self-harm. Based on these three facts, I think we can agree that sending you back to the cells would be a bit of an overreaction.”

  Amy nods. She hates how weak and pathetic she is.

  “Now, both of you still need a punishment. How about we agree that you two clean up the servant’s quarters that you have neglected to maintain, to be tested for cleanliness by Rose—” Amy notes she was the bitchiest of the three sponsors. Dangerous business. “—and we can all forget about this little incident.”

  “I can’t agree to that.” She whispers, still looking away from Eira, for the sight of the woman makes her feel things she would rather not be feeling at this moment.

  “I beg your pardon? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “I can’t agree to that offer.” Amy repeats, a little louder. She doesn’t know where her confidence has gone.

  “You’d rather end up back in the cells? I didn’t know you were that opposed to a little hygiene.”

  “You’re trying to make me responsible for what happens. It’s not going to happen. I will not agree to my friend getting punished.” Amy firms up a little, trying to look the woman in the eyes, no matter how hard it is.

  “Would you rather I choose? Because you might not like the result if I did that, given Jenny doesn’t have the same mitigating circumstances you do.” The woman says matter-of-factly, as if she didn’t just try to make Amy feel guilty regardless of what happened.

  “He didn’t do anything wrong. I suggested the topic. He was unsure, so I insisted we discuss it as it seemed important to me. As such, I should be the one to get all the punishment. Not Ray. He’s innocent.”

  “Ray?” Eira asks with a bit of a grin. “If you want to take on someone’s punishment, at least give me their proper name.”

  “You know—” Amy tries to fight back, but doesn’t really manage. Not in her current state. She’s pushing herself to her limits as is. “Ugh. Fine. Jenny. I’ll take on Jenny’s punishment for him.”

  “Her.” Eira whispers correctively.

  “Her.” She reluctantly accepts the suggestion.

  “I cannot allow that.” Eira responds. “She broke the rules just like you have, and she must be treated accordingly. It’s only fair.”

  “Even if you tell her to clean the room, I’ll just stop her from doing so and do it all myself.” Amy tries to look Eira in the eyes again, despite her humiliation and… other feelings. She has to take a stand right now. “What will you do then? Stop me from my own tasks? You could, but all you’d do is lose the very little respect she has for your weapons as is. She’d be even harder to handle after seeing me get hurt on her behalf.”

  “So you’d rather have her sent to the cells?” Eira frowns.

  “No!” Amy says a little too loudly, leaning into a volume she normally only uses for singing, and she tends to sing in a more feminine pitch. “No. He— She has been punished enough. They reacted really badly to the injections earlier today. Part of that is my fault. I’m not going to be part of your little plot to hurt Jenny even more.”

  Eira stands up from her chair and leans against the desk directly in front of Amy, emphasising her freedom to move and Amy’s inability to. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

  “No,” She flinches at her own wrong answer. Too quick. She cares about her, but that’s not why she’s doing this, she doesn’t think so at least. It’s the guilt of being unable to help her that is eating her. And it’s not like she cares about Ray in the same way she cares about Dar.

  “I mean, yes.” Amy continues. “Obviously. I do care. I don’t want him to get hurt. But I did see it happen, okay? You know I did. They got hurt and I couldn’t help. I’m not going to sit here and agree to a punishment for both of us as I’ve already hurt Ra— Jenny more than enough. Or, rather, you hurt her and—” She cringes at herself. She’s just desperately waffling at this point. “Nevermind.”

  “I’m impressed.” Eira smiles warmly at Amy. “Impressed enough to give you what you want. Take it as encouragement for more selfless behaviour in the future.”

  “Oh.” Amy whispers. That's unexpected.

  “Let me be very clear that this is a one-time exception. It’s a privilege granted to you because you’ve shown good development over the past month or so.”

  Amy rolls her eyes a little at the concept of this being a ‘privilege’ — she’s getting punished twice as hard.

  “Whilst I won’t force you to do it today, given the time of day, you will be required to clean the entirety of the room tomorrow. And you’ve really taken a task on yourself with that — It’s gotten so much worse ever since you three moved in. There are dishes and undry and such all strewn about like it’s a dorm, not a listed property! Yesterday’s smell was horrible. Unbefitting of a manor.

  “You, Amy, will be required to make sure all of that is cleaned up. You’ll clean the dishes and make sure everything is ready to be picked up for undry. We’ll provide clean bedding and uniforms and such, don't worry, but you will have to make sure to hoover, and to mop the floor with soap, to clean the tables and everything else you can think of. We will judge whether the job was done properly or not. You will receive no help in this — other than the aforementioned fresh clothes and bedding — from anyone. Do you understand and agree?”

  “Yes.” Amy looks away, humiliated. She really didn’t have to y it out like that.

  “Say you understand and agree.” Eira takes Amy’s chin, forcing her to look the woman in the eyes.

  “I understand and agree.” She mumbles, squirming a little under Eira’s touch and trying to withhold a rather pathetic sound she’d almost made.

  “Jenny may not, under any circumstances, find out that she was due punishment and only avoided it because you took it on for her. If you do tell her, I will have you sent to the cells for an extended period of time without regard for your ongoing recovery. Say you understand and agree.”

  “I understand and agree.” Amy mumbles.

  “Good.” Eira smiles. “Now, I know you’ve had a hard time today and need a little bit of a break, so I won’t bother you much longer. It’s been nice talking to you — much nicer than my talks with Jenny, anyhow. I think it would benefit both of us if we met more often.” Eira pauses for a second, thinking. “It would benefit all of the subjects of this programme, really.”

  Amy viscerally hates the idea of Eira and Faith being in one room with each other, but won’t comment on the concept. The woman just likes leveraging her power over helpless victims, and there’s not much she can do about it except try to get away from her.

  “How about we meet again in two weeks? I’m sure we’ll have more to discuss at that point. Especially if you keep progressing at your current rate.”

  “I understand and agree.” Amy whispers, hoping she’ll get to leave.

  “Oh, you didn’t have to say that— though I am gd you understand the need for these discussions.”

  The exhaustion is starting to hit her. She knows she’s just saying what the woman wants to hear, increasingly unable to think coherently.

  “You’re quite the woman, Ms. Finch.” Eira finally removes Amy’s wrist from the handcuffs. “I wish you a lovely evening.”

  Yeah. Of course she does. It’s not like Amy would describe it as being lovely, or causing her to be happy or grateful or whatever else the maid wants her to feel.

  No, other feelings are dominating her mind right now. She’ll be content to take a moment to give them a bit of release once she’s as far away from this woman as possible. Because dealing with her degenerate feelings really is much harder when the woman is, objectively, rather pretty.