The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus)
Read The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus) Online
Authors: Adriana Arden
Contents
About the Book
‘You must realise that we’ll get the information one way or another. It’s no hardship to induce an attractive girl in your position to cooperate …’ The Director paused, looking Vanessa’s naked, bound and helpless body up and down once more, then added with a smile: ‘In fact some people might think it a privilege and a pleasure.’
Probing the lowest levels of the outwardly respectable London headquarters of Shiller plc, Vanessa Buckingham stumbles into a hidden world of Twenty First Century slavery. Turned into a living puppet by Shiller’s enigmatic director, Vanessa is forced to record every detail of the slave-girls’ lives; from intimate psychological testing at the mysterious Fellgrish Institute, through strict training and ultimate submission to the clients who hire them. In the process Vanessa must confront both her own true nature and a terrible dilemma: can there be such a thing as a willing slave? Should she expose Shiller’s activities as immoral – or let herself become another commodity in its girlflesh trade?
Also by Adriana Arden
THE OBEDIENT ALICE
ALICE IN CHAINS
ABANDONED ALICE
CAPTIVES OF CHEYNER CLOSE
One
THE YOUNG WOMAN
struggled wildly as the two security guards stripped the clothes off her. But her outraged shrieks echoed unanswered round the cell-like room, while the guards grinned approvingly at what was revealed.
The intruder’s wide fearful eyes were of a clear hazel. A mass of dark fluffy hair, released from the pins that had secured it under her cap, spilled over bare shoulders. Her straining, well-toned muscles stood out tautly. Freed of their confining bra, her milk-pale breasts, with their contrasting sharply defined nipple-crowns, heaved as she squirmed. The soft swell of her stomach rose and fell tremulously as the thick matt of pubic hair framing her deep in-rolling cleft was finally exposed.
When she was totally naked, one of the guards pinned her arms behind her back, while the other produced a phone-sized device fitted with a loop antenna, which he ran across their prisoner’s discarded clothing and then every curve and hollow of her squirming body. The loop was even thrust between her pink vulval lips, causing the girl’s eyes to roll and bringing a scarlet flush of shame to her cheeks.
‘No bugs or tracers, Director,’ the guard reported at last.
‘The Director’ was a slender, mature woman, perhaps in her mid-fifties, with a strong straight nose and smooth unlined face. With her short, well-groomed hair and immaculate dark-blue business suit, she seemed somehow apart from the strange scene being played out before her. But her bright-blue eyes missed nothing and intense interest shaped her narrow, intelligent face. When she spoke, her words shaded by a slight but unidentifiable accent, her calm self-assurance contrasted starkly with the younger woman’s high emotion.
‘My name is F. G. Shiller. I apologise for inflicting this minor indignity on you, but I would like to know why you broke into my building.’
Trying to steady her ragged breathing, the captive gasped: ‘Right … you’ve had your fun … now give me back my clothes! If … if you’re accusing me of burglary then call the police!’
‘Don’t insult my intelligence, young woman,’ Shiller said. ‘You are no common burglar and you know I will not call the police.’
The girl writhed in the grasp of the strong hands that held her, clenching her thighs together in an unconscious effort to preserve one slight scrap of dignity. ‘Then let me go!’
‘Perhaps, once you tell me your name and who sent you.’ She motioned to the intruder’s possessions, which had been laid out on a bench in one corner. ‘A sophisticated electronic toolkit, a hidden camera, a set of keys, some cash, a cell phone with an empty memory, but no form of identification. Nothing to give you away if any item was lost. I’m sure we can trace their origins, given time, but it would be quicker if you co-operate.’
The girl chewed her lip for a moment in evident indecision, then took a deep breath and said: ‘My
name’s
Vanessa Buckingham … I’m a reporter for the
Daily Globe
. My paper knows I’m here … so if you don’t let me go right now all hell’ll break loose!’
The Director had stiffened slightly as Vanessa spoke, and there was a new edge to her voice as she asked: ‘Exactly who at the
Globe
sent you and how did you get into my building?’
‘What does that matter?’ Vanessa retorted, anger briefly overcoming her fear and embarrassment. ‘It’s over! You’re finished, the whole putrid lot of you!’
‘Will you answer my question?’ the Director persisted. ‘I understand you might be confused, but I can assure you that everything you’ve seen here is entirely consensual.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’ Vanessa spat back.
‘At least let me explain the facts.’
‘I won’t listen to any of your lies,’ Vanessa retorted contemptuously. ‘You’re a bunch of filthy sex-traffickers!’
‘I see you have closed your mind,’ Shiller said. ‘And as we cannot spare more time to convince you by reason, we must use other means …’ She considered Vanessa intently for a moment, then turned to a figure who had so far played no active role in the proceedings. ‘Well, Miss Kyle? Do you think she’s a suitable subject for … special handling?’
Miss Kyle was a dark-eyed brunette, perhaps a little older than Vanessa’s twenty-two years, and coolly beautiful. Her sensuous lips were very red and her flawless skin pale. She wore, as though it were an outrageous uniform, thigh-length black leather boots and a dark body stocking. Her full breasts strained at the translucent fabric that covered them like a shadow, her nipples forming swelling points of darker flesh. The gauze moulded itself into the deep cleft of her shaven pubic lips. From a broad belt encircling
her
narrow waist hung a bamboo cane and a coiled whip.
She walked round Vanessa’s trembling body, looking her up and down with unashamed approval. She trailed her fingers across Vanessa’s breasts, toying with her nipples and watching the expression of dismay spread across her face. Suddenly she cupped Vanessa’s deep-cleft pubic delta in one hand, caught a fistful of her hair in the other and looked her square in the eye.
‘Tell me, girl,’ she asked. ‘Has anything you’ve seen down here excited you?’
‘What?’ Vanessa sounded genuinely aghast. ‘You … you twisted bitch! How could I possibly be excited by anything in this perverted place? I saw what you did to that girl next door, you sadist!’
Miss Kyle released her grasp and turned to the Director with a smile of satisfaction.
‘She’s suitable, Director. Full of righteous anger and fear, of course, but the state of her nipples and pussy says she’s lying about not being aroused …’ She lifted the hand that had cupped Vanessa’s pubes to her nose and inhaled. ‘And she smells as good as she looks.’
‘It’s agreed, then.’ The Director motioned to the guards: ‘Put her on the rack …’
Vanessa struggled frantically, her slender, shapely legs flailing about as the guards dragged her across to a device that stood in one corner of the cell-like room.
It was an ‘X’-shaped rack mounted at an angle on a pivoting stand. Jointed tubular metal arms extended from the corners of a padded rectangular centre section, while various other attachments were folded underneath. A short bracket with a shallow metal cup on the end rose up to form a headrest.
Vanessa’s
arms were pulled over her head and parted until solid clamps of rubber and metal could be closed around her wrists. Her legs were wrenched wide and similar clamps locked about her ankles. Vanessa fluttered feebly like a pale, pinned butterfly. Her buttocks clenched as she jerked her hips and arched her back in a vain attempt to pull free.
Miss Kyle drew out a broad leather belt from under the rack and buckled it across Vanessa’s stomach, causing the flesh to swell on either side as she tightened it. A second shorter strap went around Vanessa’s neck, forcing her head back into its rest. Miss Kyle bent over the foot of the rack and there came a clicking of ratchets. The lower struts of the cross hinged both where they joined the central block and beneath Vanessa’s knees. As her hip joints were bent upwards and apart, her knees were bent downwards, splaying her legs and opening her wide as though for a gynaecological examination. Miss Kyle tightened straps just above Vanessa’s knees, holding her limbs firmly against the struts.
This enforced posture revealed the soft inner flesh of Vanessa’s thighs and the strong tendons of her groin. Her pubic mound was starkly exposed, its pink lips pouting from amid the thick forest of surrounding hair. Even that most secret dark pucker of her anus was tautly displayed for all to see.
The fight drained out of Vanessa and a cold sweat beaded her body as her stomach knotted. Chest heaving and eyes wide, she hung trembling and silent in her bonds. She was absolutely helpless and frighteningly vulnerable.
A brief smile played about the Director’s pursed lips. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the guards. ‘Please return to your duties. Miss Kyle, attend to our guest as necessary …’
As the security guards filed out, closing the heavy door behind them, Miss Kyle took up position beside Vanessa’s stretched and helpless body and smiled masterfully down at her. Vanessa gave a little shudder.
The Director drew over a chair from the corner of the room and seated herself in front of the rack, almost between Vanessa’s doubled back and splayed legs. Her eyes travelled over the body so blatantly exhibited before her.
Vanessa’s thighs twitched as she tried instinctively to close them, but it was quite futile. In desperation she gasped: ‘If you don’t let me go right now the shit’ll hit the fan and – aghh!’
Miss Kyle’s cane had hissed across Vanessa’s exposed buttocks and the pouting pubic mound between them. A livid red line blossomed on her pale flesh.
‘Don’t be coarse when you speak to the Director!’ she warned.
Vanessa gulped, shocked at the suddenness of the blow, but somehow maintained her defiance. ‘It’s over, understand? You … you can do what you like with me but you’re finished! I’ve seen what you are! You and the rest of your sick friends can go to hell, you fucking bastard – awww!’
This time Miss Kyle had brought her cane downwards across the upper slopes of Vanessa’s breasts, causing them to bounce and shiver. The unexpected location and sharpness of the blow made Vanessa’s face contort in pain even as tears misted her eyes.
Shiller wagged an admonishing finger.
‘You may defy me, Vanessa, but you will refrain from employing further mindless expletives and crudities. Do you think withholding the information gives you some sort of bargaining counter, or is it just out of stubbornness? I simply want to know who put you
up
to this and how you got in here. You must realise we’ll get the information one way or another. It’s no hardship to induce an attractive girl in your position to co-operate …’ Shiller paused, looking Vanessa’s naked, bound and helpless body up and down once more, then added with a smile: ‘In fact some people might think it a privilege and a pleasure …’
Vanessa gulped at the words, feeling her courage ebbing away. ‘You … you can’t treat me like this!’
Shiller sighed. ‘Quite evidently, we can treat you exactly like this. Considering the low opinion you have already formed of us, why should you be surprised? Now, for the very last time, will you answer my question?’
Biting her lip, Vanessa gave no reply.
‘Very well,’ Shiller said gravely. ‘You’ve had your chance, now we are done with reason. Miss Kyle, I want you to break Vanessa’s will to resist. Use whatever means you think best …’