Dark Days (Written Pictures #2) (9 page)

CHAPTER XXII – A Renaming

The bustling commotion to her side was confused and difficult to work out, muffled as it was by the thick latex that clung fast against Raven’s ears. The yearning to turn her head to investigate burned brightly but the fear of damaging her own body as a result was fiercer still and so she looked dead ahead, just as they would want her to.

A tablet computer thrust up into Raven’s field of view wasn’t expected. She had been aware of someone moving around her, even though all she could really hear clearly was the sound of her own heartbeat, but now what was happening was evident as the yellow figure of a female was centred on a yellowed room.

A body that men and women would keenly die for was showing on the screen. Raven recognised it as her own. Full breasts and nipped waist sitting atop hips that could sway anyone into her seductive web, yes that was her. Slowly the camera panned up and to her growing horror, Raven saw the reason her arms were held rigid.

Feathers. They could only be described as that, sprouting from what looked to be wings. Flexing her arms, the wings on the screen flapped up and down in response. A groan of anguish whistled through her breathing apparatus, a muffled ‘grawwww’ returning to her ears as the camera lingered first to focus on her latex compressed breasts before trailing down her torso, then legs.

Pausing, the camera showed feet but they were not Raven’s feet. In their place were three ridiculously elongated toes that each ended in a hooked nail. ‘Claw’ she silently corrected herself, humiliation brushing her cheeks with a hint of red that showed as a gently burnished orange under the yellow of her enclosure.

The camera panned back up her body. Raven sucked air in through the invasive apparatus to the tune of a whistle she could not hear. Higher and higher it crept before finally coming to rest on her face. Looking on in dismay, there, staring back at her, was a strange, hook-beaked yellow bird. ‘Carrr, carrrrrr!’ she protested past tight latex though in her head they were words. She tried to turn her head only to have her insides assailed by the ball-ended hook. It violated her ass as the beak through which she was made to breathe tugged on the strap attached to her rear.

Her feathered and useless arms flapped as she tried desperately to dislodge something,
anything.
The camera ducked around to show her from the side. Elegant plumage sprouted from the harness that held the beak to her head. It continued along the strap that ran down the middle of her back and flourished further in a fine, feathered tail which hid the hook that violated her ass.

“Look, birdie tries to fly,” Alexei taunted, his heavily accented English dripping with sinister satisfaction. “Not Raven now, too yellow, though cheeks are become more orange,” he added, the words dripping with his peculiarly deep laugh.

“‘Canary?” offered a female voice to Raven’s side.

“Chaffinch?” responded a male voice slightly further away.

“Parrot?” countered the first.

“Certainly not proud American Bald Eagle,” teased the male, spurring an outbreak of laughter.

“Parakeet,” decided Alexei firmly. “She is parakeet and she will be called Ki-Ki.”

Laughter peeled around the room, pummelling the newly renamed Raven with painful punches of degradation as they repeated her new name. Taunting her and teasing her, the tears started to flow within her latex confinement and she ‘carrrred’ her weakening protest. It was nothing more than token though, she knew that she was totally beaten.

It was that feeling of utter defeat that accompanied Raven toward the sanctuary of sleep. Feeling first the press of the inserts deeper into both her nasal and oral cavities as the cylinder was connected to the inlets of her new ‘breathing beak’, Raven slowly inhaled on a sweet, musky gas. Recoiling at first, the pain in her butt compelled her still and with arms unable to bend to reach and remove the newly attached canister, she slipped toward the solitude of a deep drug-induced slumber.

“See you soon, Ki-Ki,” was the last she heard from a smiling Alexei, whose eyes couldn’t help but admire the branding on her butt, smudged but visible beneath the opaque latex. With his voice smearing into her head, Raven’s world blackened and slipped away.

CHAPTER XXIII – Not So Grand Entrance

It was difficult to determine what was real and what was dream as Raven drifted in and out of consciousness, merging reality with memory and senses with imagination. She was sure she had heard a watered down version of the sun-kissed Californian tones of Red. She thought she could remember being told not to worry, she would find a way but she couldn’t know if it was reality or the manifestation of hope in a dream.

Voices, foreign voices, had engulfed her at one point as limbs were moved, positioned and then set afresh. Her catsuit had been opened, or at least she dreamed it had been, and cold air had whispered over her as trapped sweat finally found a way to evaporate. It was vague though, as was the poking at her breast and for all she knew it was a drug-induced erotic nightmare but it could have been real; it felt that way at least.

Rolling, floating, flying, lifting, she was a bird now soaring high, a dark bird with jet black wings but she flew too high. The sun scorched the black to yellow and she plummeted back to earth, wings being forced to her side before she flapped again, trying to stem her fall.

Hands. She felt hands now, lots of them. Caressing, slithering over her sculpted body. It was worship and she was well-used to that, but equally they could have been polishing her ready for display. Either way, it permeated her dreams, infusing them with an added sensuality that made her dream-self smile. So difficult; so confusing; so arousing and as she was sat upright Raven’s head tipped forward only to be jerked back by the fundamental reality of a shock of pain to her rectum.

“Carrrr,” came the sound that touched her hood-flattened ears. It was a sound born of pain and as if on cue to her protest, she felt a cold on her ankle as what felt like a heavy chain was locked tightly around it. Why would they do that if they were worshipping her so attentively?

“Wake up Ki-Ki, wake up now, no more sleeping,” came the soft caress of a lightly- accented whisper accompanied by an equally soft hand gently cupping her breast.

“Carrr,” came the moaned response as consciousness crept back and Raven presented her chest to welcome the attention of hands that flowed from her dreams.

“It’s ok, Ki-Ki, it’s all ok now.” The soft lilt in the voice lured her from the safety of sleep and Raven welcomed it with a thrusting breast. “That’s right little bird, puff out your chest Ki-Ki, show off your plumage.”

“Carrrrr,” cooed the newly remade bird, the air whistling through her breathing beak. A caring hand stroked Raven’s increasingly sensitised breast and she relished the sensuality of the caress. Only a latex-transmitted touch can be amplified in such an electric way and it was followed by a whistle as Raven inhaled deeply as if to draw still more from it.

“Good girl for Natalia, good Ki-Ki.” And the stroking continued, coaxing Raven calmly back to consciousness.

It was so good to feel such a touch, so welcome, and as Raven’s mind tiptoed forward further from the shadows, her blissful state of semi-wakefulness only added to the sensual stimulation. It was delicious and delicate, sensual and sublime. More. She wanted more and Raven rolled her torso toward the touch only to be pulled up short by a shot of pain to her ass, causing her eyes to shoot wide, showing her a sepia world.

She was high, well above what she would expect to be her normal height and forgetting herself, Raven tried to look down to gain a sense of place.

“Carrrrr!!!” she cried in pained reaction as the hook abruptly stopped the attempt short.

“Silly bird, Ki-Ki. Better stay still now or you’ll do yourself damage,” rebuked the voice, and her breast was first slapped then squeezed as if to reinforce the warning. “Either that or you will fall off your perch, yes, yes.”

Panting hard with the sudden shot of pain, the air whistled through the beak-shaped breathing apparatus. The voice continued to reveal the full extent of Raven’s predicament while a cover was carefully draped to conceal her from the empty room below. She was a silly bird; a silly enslaved bird and as the thoughts settled in her head, the world was hidden behind the covering of a heavy cloth.

== ~ ==

The sounds started as a muffled hubbub and try as she might, even an alert Raven couldn’t make the words out. There were voices. One at first, then two, then three until more voices merged into a melee of muffled sound. They were close but below her and Raven knew from the earlier explanation they were surrounding what had been described as her perch.

Straining her eyes, through the sepia latex and the loose weave of the cloth she could just about make out shapes in the distance as they passed through what must be a doorway. They were coming forward, gathering around her - a crowd assembled no doubt to witness her new reality, to gloat and taunt, tease and torment.

She had to get away from this hell. She wasn’t ready for it and doubted she ever would be. She would be seen, shamed. Fear tinged her world as the reality settled upon her. She was still so brittle. Yes, to others she was the uber-bitch, the coldly callous wielder of crop or whip. She had strutted. She had lured. She sashayed into rooms and demanded eyes were turned to her with the manner of her movements and the projection of a presence that just screamed ‘I’m here now, look at me’.

She had to be like that. It was the only way to cope – front up, be the bitch they all wanted to be beside and bed and then use that to fuck their mind as they fucked her body. It had saved her, allowed her to rebuild but it didn’t mean she liked herself, especially when that persona took on a life of its own and swept the woman in her away.

All the adulation, all the desire, it all fed a fragile self-worth that had never fully recovered from the ordeals of her younger days. She would be a good slave if only they didn’t humiliate her. More were gathering around her now and she knew that they would see but trying to step away, one foot immediately found the edge of what Raven now knew to be a small platform.

How high was she? A few feet at least but even the clue of the voices was unreliable, muffled as they were. She was going nowhere and that simple fact was reinforced as her other ankle jagged against the thick chain which tethered her securely in place.

Breathing hard, Raven replayed the careful explanation that had been given to her, hunting for clues on what to expect, trying to find some way to lessen what she knew would be a humiliatingly cruel blow.

She was wearing E-stim pads, at least that was what she had been told. That must have been what had been prodding at the side of her breast as she slept. Raven knew them well having used the pads on Mela more than once to make her dance and make sweet music in the steel of chains. That was a past life but she bore the memory of it at least.

They had also referred to accelerometers fitted in the wings that held her arms so rigid. She had heard of those. They were used in all sorts of things. They measured angles and tilt – used in planes, off-road vehicles and even smartphones to know when to rotate the screen.

Slowly Raven’s still-keen mind followed the trail of breadcrumbs, connected the dots. Measured angles. Pads to shock. They would of course be linked. They had already shown nothing was to chance, everything was for a purpose. Shocks, measured angles, fake wings; she knew where this was heading.

It would be difficult. The pain in her shoulder still burned fiercely and the wings that held her arms rigid only added to the weight of her discomfort. They had never let her shoulder fully heal, hung out every fucking day from the pier. No doubt that was a plan too.

She was ready though this time. For once, she had out-thought and pre-empted them. It was the smallest of victories but it caused her to smile around the inserts from her beak.

She had worked it out and anticipated their plan and yet, when the cover was hauled away, nothing could prepare her for the shrieks of laughter that reverberated around the room, shattering her victory and defiling what little remained of her pride.

She was nothing but an enslaved woman now, if woman she still was. Raven reddened like she had never done before, showing a burnished orange through the smoky yellow latex pressing against her cheeks.

On and on the laughter rolled with occasional comments seeping through the cacophony of mirth. “Surely that’s not Raven?” said one. “Just another stupid subbie bitch,” spat another, sending Raven hurtling deeper and deeper into the abyss of total degradation.

And when the first twin shocks were delivered to her breasts, she was neither prepared nor the woman she had been only seconds before. In desperation she snapped her arms out wider, stamping her three-toed foot as she did. There was nothing else she could do and she did it in a vain attempt to do something, anything, to ease the pain. To the assembled, she looked for all the world like a human parakeet, exercising her wings atop her perch, ready for a flight that her chained ankle would not permit.

The shocks continued. Flapping the rigid wings, Raven strained to find the correct angle of tilt to stem the torture. She had to register with the accelerometers fitted to them to try to trip the switch and stop the painful pulses. Raven had worked it out correctly, though it was a pyrrhic victory and little more. She knew she had to move her arms, flap them like wings but doing so with such early vigour had only added to the damage to her shoulder.

It hurt so much with the weight and the lack of elbow movement. Everything relied on the movement of her shoulders and she could only suffer the discomfort as shocks spasmed through her increasingly sensitised breasts, causing her chest to heave, much to the mirth of the crowd gathered below. It was too much, far too much. Raven ‘carrrrred’ a pitiful plea for mercy. Unseen tears flowed inside her clinging latex prison.

Raven had been so carefully crafted. Built as a life raft to save a lost soul, to buffer against adversity and allow her to survive, Raven was shattering and with the total humiliation spiced by pulse after pulse of pain, she slunk away to hide in the recesses of a tortured mind.