The overhead fluorescents blinked violently—once, twice—then plunged the dorm into darkness. Pitch-black silence swallowed Maya’s ragged breaths. Only the wet shuffle of bodies moving on mats echoed. Cold water splashed across Maya’s face. She gasped awake. Another icy torrent hit her chest. A flashlight beam sliced through the dark. Mistress Elara stood silhouetted, hose nozzle dripping. "Up!" Elara’s voice cracked like a whip. "Inspection." Junior Mistresses dragged sluts to their feet, shoving them against cold concrete walls. Elara’s flashlight roved—lingering on bruises, tape-sealed asses, leaking cunts. She paused at Maya. "Tape off." Fingers ripped duct tape from Maya’s hips. The plug clattered to the floor. Carrots tumbled out—slick with blood, mucus. Pain flared hot. "Filthy," Elara hissed. "Scrub it." Maya dropped to her knees, scrubbing the mess with bare hands. Cold water sprayed her back. "Cleaner!" Maya scraped concrete till her fingernails bled.