Under Evaluation

                       Under Evaluation   7

Lily Powell drifted just below the surface of consciousness.  Her brain fired random synapses of images, which formed a disjointed collage of dreams.  A few were pleasant, most were not.  Dinner with friends, the photo shoot with the irascible Hans Schmidt, an airplane flight…somewhere.

Then there were the other images.  Walls melting, a seemingly out-of-body experience, hundreds of people walking past, acting as if she weren’t there.  And hands.  Her thoughts always seemed to come back to hands.  Hands that kept touching her, moving her, doing things she seemed helpless to stop.  Hands.

Then her mind thought of Lila.  Her sister, her twin, her soul mate.  She was in trouble!  That thought snapped the girl completely awake.  Her eyes popped open and darted about. 

“Where am I?”  She wondered, utterly disoriented.

“Bleak”, was a gross understatement for her surroundings.  The half dozen candles scattered about did nothing to illuminate the room, instead casting long, ominous shadows that moved like specters.  The grey, crudely quarried stone that made up the walls and arched ceiling looked positively ancient.  Still rattled, it appeared to Lily that the walls were shifting slightly back and forth.  It dawned on her, that the walls were static, it was she who was moving.  It was then she realized that, although she was moving, she couldn’t move.

“hhggnnmmmf!?”  Her puzzled exclamation jammed up in her throat.

Her lips were stretched and sealed around something enormous in her mouth.  Whatever it was, it grew to even larger proportions once behind her teeth.  Her poor tongue was trapped flat on the bottom of her mouth, like an elephant sitting on a cat.  Fire cut into the corners of her mouth, the pain traversing back across her bulging cheeks and behind her head, where a hard knot pressed relentlessly into the base of her skull. 

More of the same inexorable pressure traveled in thin bands about her head.  One passed under her chin, forcing her to clamp down on the mass plugging her mouth.  Another set passed diagonally up her cheeks, merging between her eyes, then up over her scalp.  The crushing pressure caused the model’s eyes to water.

She went to rip the abomination from her head, but her hands didn’t obey her commands.  They couldn’t.  Blinking away the tears, Lily looked to see why, although she already felt the reason.  Her hands, rather, her arms up to the elbows, were encased in shimmering, black leather gauntlets.  The patent leather surface reflected the candlelight merrily, though there was nothing merry about their function.

Five straps encircled each gauntlet, from wrist to elbow and were buckled tight.  Lily couldn’t see her hands at the end of the stiff leather sheaths.  That’s because each sheath ended in a softball sized sphere, whose exterior appeared to be some kind of hard, glossy plastic.  Lily tried to wriggle her fingers inside, feeling the dense padding on the sphere’s interior pressing down upon them.  Changing tact, she tried clenching her fisted fingers.  She could feel that something slightly pliant had been placed in her palms, negating any movement of her fingers beyond some minor flexing.

And that was just the start.  Her forearms had been affixed to her booted feet, which explained the ache in her back which was now beginning to make its presence known.  Having spent the past several years at the top of the fashion industry, Lily was no stranger to high heels.  However, she’d never seen boots such as the ones that currently trapped her feet.

Rising to her knee, the stiff black boots were also made from patent leather.  The lacing running up her shin had been drawn inhumanely tight.  By far, the most ghastly characteristic, was how they held her feet “en pointe”, the tops of her feet in perfect line with her shins.  A lethal set of stiletto heels, 7 or 8 inches in length, stabbed at the air.

Straps riveted down the inner and outer sides of the boots, were attached to the corresponding buckles riveted to the arm gauntlets, effectively doubling Lily over at the waist.  Left lying on the floor, the position would have been intolerable after a few minutes.  However, at the moment, the black haired stunner had no idea what the coarse stone floor felt like.

This was because she was suspended in mid air.  A chromed spreader bar, no less than 40” long, had been cuffed to her ankles, holding her legs (and imprisoned arms) distressingly wide.  A steel cable ran from its center up to the ceiling.  Lily traced its angled decent to a winch bolted into the wall six feet away, impossibly out of reach.

During her inspection, she noticed the leather thong which was knotted around the cable affixed to the spreader bar.  That explained why her head was held virtually motionless.  The obviously fiddle string taut thong traversed towards her, before disappearing from sight.  However, the persistent tug at the top of the harness of leather that encompassed her head, told her where the thong terminated.  The strap was holding the harness, thus her head, upright.  Lily could turn a little from side to side, but that was it.

Cramps struck her abdomen, verifying what the model believed to be inconceivable.  Something had been stuck in her vagina and rectum.  No, “stuck” was too gentle a term.  The objects swelled inside her beyond comfort.  The pliant tissue of her orifices were stretched further than what nature intended.  Lily could feel the course grain of a 2” wide leather strap hitched firmly between her legs.  Its edges dug into the lips of her vulva and parted the cleft of her bum.  The ends of the strap rose up to where she could feel the squeeze of a moderately boned waist cincher.  The ’garment’ compressed her waist, whilst still allowing her to be folded in two.  After all, her hip joints could only rotate so much.  Lily couldn’t look down to see the restraints.  She didn’t have to.  Just feeling their presence caused the bile to churn in her stomach.

“Who could have done such a thing?”  She wondered forlornly.  And more importantly, “Why?”

The model had to get free, but where to begin?  She could hardly move.  Even gravity was working against her.  Her best efforts merely jostled her body slightly and left her exhausted.  Her struggles, combined with the twisting strands of the cable, sent her in a slow, lazy circle.  What she could observe during this listless spin, left her further disheartened.

The cell had no windows, barred or otherwise.  Assorted fasteners seemed haphazardly anchored to the walls and ceiling.  The only way in or out appeared to be a exorbitantly stout door.  A sliver of light spilled under the portal, announcing a brighter, if no less mysterious area beyond.  Her lethargic twirl continued, the door passing from view.  Three steel lockers, painted black, stood next each other, against the wall, their contents yet another secret.

Lily’s eyes grew wide, as the ’tool rack’ came into view.  All sort of restraints dangled from pegs.  But that wasn’t the scary part.  Dozens of assorted torture devices resided there as well.  Paddles, crops, whips in all sizes and shapes hung in menacing silence.  The cold lump of despair expanded in the model’s stomach.

The only positive thing about her uncontrollable rotation, was that it eventually spun her out of sight of the rack.  Nevertheless, it had left a lasting impression.  The final wall in the cell (there was no other name for it) hosted a sturdy wooden cot pushed up against it.  The “mattress” was nothing more than a burlap sack, half-heartedly stuffed with straw.  Shafts of the stiff grass poked through the course cloth in countless places.

When the inertia of her spin finally ebbed, Lily was once again staring at the winch which held her aloft.  She wondered about her twin sister, Lila.  Was she suffering a similar fate?  Or was she merely a ward of the state, receiving the medical attention that would help her recover.  Somehow, Lily didn’t think it was the latter.

Sometime later, maybe an hour, perhaps three, Lily was startled by a loud *CLANK*, as the cell door’s bolt was slid open.  Unawares, the ebony haired enchantress had lapsed into a mildly catatonic state.  Brought back to her senses, Lily groaned as her aches and pains had quadrupled.  She had to squint against the subdued light, from what she could now see was an equally bleak stone corridor, spilled in.

Framed in the doorway was an impressively built man with a crew cut.  Her cell’s dim lighting was unable to highlight the features of his face.

“hhrmmmnggfff!”  Lily beseechingly grunted to be released.

The man stood rock still for a few moments, then stepped inside without uttering a word.  He closed the door with a solid *thud* and slid the heavy iron bolt closed, inserting a large padlock through its hasp.  He turned, so that she could watch him slip the chain holding the key around his neck.  The message was clear.  The model would have to break free of her restraints and get past him, before entertaining any ideas of passing through the door.

“mmmnnppffff!”  She bleated once more.  And once more, her plea was met with silence.

And still the man did not move, his eyes washing over her, making the helpless girl feel dirty.  Then he moved behind her, out of sight.  A chill ran up Lily’s spine, for she knew what lay back there.  The man’s soft soled shoes made no noise on the cold stone floor.  He just simply reappeared in front once more.  Then he raised his arm and Lily’s eyes grew wide.

In his right hand, he grasped a paddle.  The rectangular object was almost thirty inches long, the handle taking up a mere eight.  Although nickel-sized holes had been evenly bored through it, there was still a substantial amount of solid surface.  Lily’s gaze froze on the instrument as he slipped the lanyard around his wrist and drew it tight.  Her voice lost, she couldn’t even offer up a gagged plea for mercy.

He stood off to one side and brought his arm back.  Another pause.  Lily’s eyes, now adjusted to the light, could see the expressionless features of his face.  No joy, nor anger, just a compassionless gaze.  Then, like a cobra, his arm sprung into action.  The room filled with the sound of an impossibly loud *CRACK!* that actually startled the girl, even though she’d seen it coming.  Then the pain struck.

“MMMMMNNNNNHHHH!!!!”  She screeched, as the agony struck the tops of her thighs near her buttocks.

Pulling at her bonds, Lily actually managed to raise her bum toward the ceiling.  The man took advantage of this, delivering an equally vicious blow across the firm cheeks of her derriere.  The air left the model’s lungs, as the second wave of pain washed over the first.  No where near recovered, the third blow swung upward, striking squarely on her right ass cheek.  Her left cheek was impacted moments later.  Two more blows across her bottom poured gasoline on the inferno that raged there.

Not even breathing hard, the man slipped free of the paddle and returned it to its proper place.  The same could not be said of the poor girl.  Her head pounded with agony and the lack of oxygen.  Survival instincts finally got her diaphragm working again, forcing her draw in ragged, irregular breaths.  Through her tears, Lily could see him standing in front of her again, still silent as a ghost.

Moving in closer, he reached between the model’s spread legs.  Peering down as best she could, she saw him holding some sort of black rubber ball.  Rubber tubing exited one end, traveling in the general direction of her crotch.  She watched as, with thumb and forefinger, he twisted a small chrome wheel.  There was a soft hissing sound, as immediately the swollen presence in her vagina began to shrink.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small set of keys.  His hands fumbled out of sight for a moment, then there was a quiet *snick*.  As the strap over her privates loosened, he showed her the tiny brass padlock before slipping it into his shirt pocket.  The unspoken message was clear.  The strap holding the probes inside her orifices had been locked on.

As the strap fell free, so did the abomination that had been violating her.  Lily noticed that her rectum remain stuffed.  The probe there must have its own inflation bulb, she deduced.  The sound of a zipper interrupted her ruminations.  The model refocused, her eyes locking on the man’s enormous cock, standing at attention through the gap in his trousers.

‘nnnnnnnnnnnngghhhhh!”  Lily wailed, powerless to stop what happened next.

Rather than stepping in closer, the man merely grasped the folded beauty by her hips and pulled her to him.  The act seemed somehow more degrading, the fact that she was drawn toward him, implied his stepping closer not worth the effort.  Being stuffed with the prod had left Lily’s vagina clammy, providing minimal lubrication.  It would be the only blessing bestowed her.  But the girl would find no solace in this.

As his enormous head pressed against the folds of her labia, Lily tried everything to get away.  But with her legs spread wide, she couldn’t clench them together.  Nor could she do more than twist weakly to and fro.  Once the breach had been made, the man thrust his entire length inside her.

Lily’s howl lodged in her throat.  Her eyes squeezed closed as she felt as though she might be ripped in two.  After holding the position for a long second, the man began to move Lily back and forth, sliding her down upon his shaft then back again.  This lasted for what must have been five minutes.

Incredibly, Lily then felt him swell even larger inside her.  Changing tact, he painfully slipped his fingers under the reinforced hem of the waist cincher.  Using only his right arm as if curling weights, he continued to swing the girl back and forth on his cock.   His freed left hand began mauling her exposed right breast, his fingers cruelly pinching her nipple.

Finally, he began thrusting his hips as he pulled her to him, his pelvic bones bruising her tender flesh.  Then he stiffened, completely buried inside her.  Molten hot semen spewed inside her, leaving her physically ill.  Even then, he uttered not a word, not even a grunt.  He held her locked in this position, his swollen member in no hurry to deflate.

Finally, he simply let go of her.  She swung away, only to swing back, the petals of her sex smacking into his sticky shaft.  Lily would have never thought it possible, to feel so utterly defiled, so completely soiled.  Soft  new tears flowed hotly down her cheeks.

The man stepped forward and grasped the crotch strap.  It proved no challenge to slip the prod back inside her slimy sheath.  When he buckled the crotch strap, it seemed much tighter this time.  Then he began pumping the inflation bladder.  Lily moaned as she felt it swell inside her.  Then she screamed as it expanded well beyond what it had been before.  He even gave the prod up her ass six more squeezes.  The man made certain she was watching, as he pulled the lock from his shirt pocket and re-secured it to the strap.

Moving off to one side, he grasped something off a small shelf.  Returning, he held it up between Lily’s knees.  The girl looked at it through red, puffy eyes.  Those same eyes then looked as though they would pop out of her head.  What he held was a mirror, its reflection bouncing back at Lily.  The weak candlelight was more than adequate for the girl to see the change that had been made.

Her luxurious mane of jet black hair had been cut off!  All that remained was a uniform crew cut, perhaps ¾ of an inch in length.  Lily couldn’t even throw her head back as she wailed.  She’d been robbed of one of her most precious, personal features.  Despair nearly crushed the life out of her.  The man inverted the mirror, hanging it by its handle from the spreader bar, directly in front of Lily’s face.  The horrible image would be there every time she opened her eyes.

With that, he stepped back, affording himself one more long, silent stare.  He turned and strode to the door, unlocking it.  Without even so much as a look back, he opened the door and walked out.  Lily watched as the door slammed shut, then heard the heavy bolt *CLACK!* shut once more.  A deep metallic clattering informed her that the bolt had been padlocked closed.

Lily was left alone, hanging as before, whimpering and sobbing.  Her thighs, sex and bottom sticky and aflame.  She’d been raped, shorn and corporal punished.  And still, she had no idea what was going on.

“God I love my job!”  Carl thought, as he zipped up his fly and strode down the corridor.