The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus) (24 page)

‘Like the other Cherry Chain girls?’

‘Yes, Mistress Editor,’ Vanessa conceded.

‘And how long has it taken you to reach that blindingly obvious conclusion? You should have worked that out in the first week! You had every chance to interview other girls or members of staff for background. You must have seen girls changing into street clothes in the locker room at times. Didn’t you think it odd, if we were holding them against their will, that we’d allow that?’

She had seen them, she now recalled, but she’d been too preoccupied to take proper notice. ‘I … didn’t think,’ she admitted lamely.

‘You didn’t think to follow it up because you’d already made up your mind what we were!’

‘This is a weird situation, Mistress Editor. It’s taken me time to accept the facts.’

‘No, you let your prejudice interfere with gathering the facts and facing up to them. That’s why I’m going to punish you. Not for trying to help Kashika escape, but for being a bad reporter and thinking you needed to help her in the first place!’

She pulled Vanessa to her feet, clipped her wrists behind her back and led her out by the hair into the main office.

‘Right, listen up!’ she said loudly. The buzz in the room died away as every eye turned to her and Vanessa.

‘Our pet Slave Reporter hasn’t been doing her job properly and nearly caused the company a lot of trouble. She needs to be reminded what the penalties are for careless work. I’ve booked her into a fully kitted private cell in the Mall. She’ll be there all day
so
you can all take a turn. You don’t have to go easy on her …’

‘Faster, girl, faster!’

The cane swished across her bottom again. With a shriek Vanessa jerked her hips faster. She was straddling a square balk of timber carried horizontally on a single heavy post, so that its edge was uppermost. This edge had been carved into a series of notches and ridges that ground into her soft cleft, spreading her labia wide as though they were sucking at its faces. The wood was stained dark with the juices of the numerous slave-girls who had ridden it before her.

Her wrists were cuffed via a heavy spring to a ceiling hook above her head, while her legs were spread wide and tethered to the outside of the base that supported the post and timber. There was just enough slack in her ankle bindings to allow her to stand on tiptoe. Her arms took some of the strain, but this still meant most of the weight was borne by her groin.

An office woman, stripped to the waist, was standing behind her wielding a cane. Every time Vanessa slowed the frantic jiggling of her hips she would add another stripe to the collection growing across her haunches.

‘Get on with it, you slut!’ she shouted. ‘This doesn’t end until I see you come …’

The naked man grinned at Vanessa as he pressed himself up against her and shoved his hard cock into her gaping vagina. She gasped as the slug of tumescent flesh filled her passage, but the ball-gag in her mouth stifled the sound.

She hung flat against the painted breezeblock cell wall. Her wrists were clamped into a thick, padded
cuff-bar
that hung on a large wall hook above her head. Her legs were outstretched horizontally on either side of her and held almost flat to the wall by cuffs and short chains clipped to large ring-bolts. The big tendons of her inner thighs stood out like cables as they framed her exposed and gaping pudenda. Directly under her suspended and open groin was a stand and an adjustable vertical rod on which was mounted a large black rubber dildo. Its head and half its shaft were sunk into the wide-stretched mouth of her pink-rimmed anus. Discharge from her vagina ran down the sides of the dildo.

As the man entered her she felt his cock squeezing the thin walls of flesh and muscle that separated her vagina from her tightly stuffed rectum. Slowly he began to pump away inside her, not hurrying but savouring every moment of his total possession of her body …

The blood pounded in Vanessa’s ears as she twisted and swung upside down from her ankles. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and a ball-gag filled her mouth. Two naked office women were beating her with rubber paddles, the smack of flesh ringing back from the hard walls. The hopeless flinches and writhing she made in response to the stinging blows only added to her torment. Loops of cord had been wrapped about the roots of her inverted breasts and lead weights hung from them. More weights hung from the silver clamps that pinched her nipples so tightly, drawing her breasts out into swelling, elongated cones of tortured flesh.

Only when she was finally sobbing with pain and dribble from around her gag splattered the floor did the women stop beating her. Drawing up two chairs they sat facing each other with her dangling body
between
them, the chair seats putting their crotches level with Vanessa’s head. Each taking a nipple weight, they tugged at her breasts, pulling them in opposite directions and swinging her between them until Vanessa screamed through her gag for mercy and her eyes bulged.

Tearing out her gag, one of them rubbed her inverted and flushed face into her scented pubes. ‘We’ll only take you down when you’ve made us both come,’ she told her.

Desperately, Vanessa began to lick and suck at her fleshy cleft …

The last man to have her left Vanessa bound over a punishment horse.

She lay along the length of its narrow padded top, her wrists and ankles cuffed together and stretched down to where they were clipped to the side struts linking the horse’s splayed legs. Her breasts hung down on each side of the top beam and a cord passing underneath it tied her nipples together. The man’s sperm still dribbled out of her anus between her reddened buttocks, where they projected over the end of the beam.

But after what she had endured that day the position almost felt comfortable. She was utterly pummelled and drained and had lost count of the number of orgasms that had been forced out of her. All she wanted to do was sleep …

Then somebody lifted her head by a handful of hair and slapped her cheek. She opened bleary eyes and saw it was Zara.

‘Not yet, girl,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got to have my go …’

She turned Vanessa’s limp and unresisting body over on to her back and refastened her wrists and
ankles
to the side struts. Taking a tapered bracing strap from the selection hanging on the walls, she buckled it about Vanessa’s neck and the padded beam, ensuring she could not turn her head aside. Then she stripped off her own clothes and climbed on to Vanessa so that her thighs straddled her upturned face. She bent and kissed Vanessa’s ravaged and swollen pussy.

‘I can taste everyone who’s used you. That takes me back …’

She began to ride Vanessa’s face as one would use an inanimate object for pleasure.

‘Have you learnt your lesson?’ Zara asked, giving Vanessa’s clitoris a warning nip between her teeth.

‘Ahhh … yes, Mistress Editor!’ Vanessa said indistinctly from between Zara’s sticky love-lips as they slithered up and down her face.

‘Good. I’ve arranged for you to visit the Fellgrish Institute the day after tomorrow. You can see for yourself how carefully we select our girls.’ She nipped Vanessa’s clit again. ‘And this time get your facts right!’

Thirteen

THE FELLGRISH INSTITUTE
nestled in one corner of a science park south-west of central Oxford off the Henley Road. It was a low, slab-like building with a façade that mingled red brick with tinted glass and polished steel. Under the Institute’s name on the plaque beside the main door it said: ‘Human Response Laboratory’.

Apart from not having to consult a map for directions, another advantage of being under constant monitoring, Vanessa realised, was that people knew who she was and when she had arrived. She didn’t even have to announce herself. The woman behind the reception desk looked up as she approached and said: ‘Miss Buckingham? Dr Gold is expecting you. Through that door please …’

Monitor guided her along a corridor and through a second set of security doors to an office bearing the nameplate H. GOLD MD.

Sitting behind an untidy desk framed by shelves crammed with books and file folders, Dr Gold was an almost perfect cliché of a traditional scientist. He was short, balding and bespectacled, wore a white lab coat and had a slightly distracted manner. In his hand, however, he held a remote controller like the one Jarvis used.

‘Ah, yes, the reporter girl,’ he said, blinking owlishly at Vanessa. ‘Thank you, Monitor, I have control of her now …’

He pressed a button. ‘I’ve unlocked your collar, girl. You’ll wear one of ours while you’re here. Now get those clothes off …’

In two minutes Vanessa was naked but for her sandals and an Institute collar, which was similar to her house collar except that it seemed to have more contact points on its inside. It fitted closely round her neck. Gold looked her up and down with an approving smile, then pressed a button on the controller. Vanessa felt the familiar stinging pain, making her wince. Gold smiled at her distress.

‘I don’t have to demonstrate what will happen if you make a nuisance of yourself, do I, girl?’

‘No, Dr,’ Vanessa said quickly.

‘You will call me “Master”’.

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Now, you were told you could not take pictures or make live recordings? You will work from notes only and not use real names in any article you write. We must maintain our subjects’ anonymity until they have consented to become Shiller slaves. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Good. I’ve scheduled ten minutes for you to gather background, as I believe you call it, and then an hour to tour our facility. You may begin …’ he patted his knee ‘… sit here.’

Clasping her notebook she seated herself on his lap. She felt slightly foolish as she was half a head taller than Gold. His hand slid up her between her thighs and began to fondle her pubes. She gritted her teeth. This was not going to be easy.

‘First, Master, how would you describe the aims of the Fellgrish Institute?’

‘Oh, to investigate and codify the full range of female emotional responses to varied visual, physical or emotional stimuli, with special reference to their influence on the sexual urge. Also to identify those individuals with behavioural patterns suggesting an inherent predisposition to what is commonly known as “submissive” or “masochistic” behaviour. Through a process of graduated selection and testing we aim to focus on those women with both a higher than average sex drive and a positive response to imposed order and discipline.’

Vanessa struggled to get all that down while Gold’s fingers were busy teasing her clitoris. ‘And how exactly do you go about selecting girls for slave training, Master?’

‘Initially we survey women of suitable age, health and appearance, via detailed personality questionnaires circulated through colleges, magazines, social centres and so forth. We send out a few thousand every month. Those women who give responses suggesting they have above average submissive or masochistic tendencies are invited here for closer investigation and testing.’

‘And how many of those turn out to be suitable for slave training, Master?’

‘It averages perhaps three or four a month.’

Vanessa gritted her teeth as Gold’s fingers slid up her vagina. ‘Not many out of thousands, Master.’

‘There are undoubtedly many more we miss. Probably the majority of what one might call natural slaves never fully achieve their potential. It is a matter of being given the opportunity we provide. Many would never express their true natures or suspect they had such a desire if it were not for us.’

She was making a stain on his trousers now. ‘Do you encourage them to become slaves, Master?’

‘No, there are no inducements of any kind. We only pay their travelling expenses and a token fee to cover their time. The testing programme is entirely voluntary and may involve sessions spread over two or three months. If they did not enjoy it they would simply not attend. And they do not graduate to the next stage of testing without knowing what degree of personal discomfort or intrusion it may involve.’ He indicated a filing cabinet. ‘We have the waivers they sign on file if you wish to examine them, together with videoed interviews.’

‘Perhaps later, Master.’

‘We do not say we are looking for natural submissives, of course,’ Gold said with a smile. ‘At first they believe they are participating in a series of experiments to test responses to sexual imagery. If they react favourably to those they move on to testing certain sex toys. Later, if they are willing, they graduate to what we tell them is an examination of their reactions to combinations of physical, emotional and sexual stimulation. We say this has applications in understanding the effects of long-term hostage situations and military anti-interrogation training.’

‘You lie to them, Master.’

‘Not really. The data we collect is valuable and is submitted to many reputable journals. Only our ultimate purpose is withheld. Most of our subjects probably think they are using us as an excuse to do things in the name of science that they would never dare do in ordinary life. We create an environment where they feel free to explore the limits of their sexual desires by providing an excuse to bypass traditional inhibitions.’ He smiled cheerfully, twirling his fingers inside her. ‘In other words we free them from guilt.’

‘I see, Master. May I ask, on a personal level, do you find your work fulfilling?’

‘I find the workings of the human mind endlessly fascinating and its study a continual challenge. In addition, I have the natural male interest in the female of our species, plus a taste for seeing her in situations of confinement and libidinous activity. It is both intellectually and emotionally satisfying.’

He pulled his fingers out of Vanessa’s now dripping vulva and held them up to display the wet sheen that coated them.

‘For example, in how many other occupations could I, a man of modest physical appeal to the opposite sex, have an attractive woman sit naked on my lap and accept my toying with her mons veneris less than five minutes after meeting her?’

Before taking Vanessa on a tour of the facility, Gold took out of a drawer a phallic object of transparent plastic with complex circuitry visible within it, together with two flat rings of black plastic with fine metallic contacts clustered about their undersides.