Sally\'s Quality Audit

Prima Slave poked her head through Sally's door as Sally lay naked on the small bed in her cell. Sally had just managed to enter a quiet, thoughtless peace, gazing up at the ceiling. Morning had finished in the place they called the House and she was resting her body, stretched and exercised, till the bell rang for lunch assembly. Then the slave girls would troop down together and eat whatever was provided for them kneeling to attention - and show their gratitude, afterwards. Sally turned her head to the intruder.

"Sally. You're wanted in the red room."

"Yes Ma'am." Her heart skipped a beat, but she got up and put on the pale translucent shift which barely covered her ass and her pussy, and slipped her feet into her very high heels. Prima looked on, face impassive.

"Hurry along girl. The Chief Inquisitor is waiting for you."

"Yes Ma'am."

Prima led her down the well-known corridors and left her at the red door. There was no eye contact, and her heart beat all the faster. She knocked firmly on the door, as she had been taught.

"Enter."

Sally opened the door and stepped in, her head level, shoulders back. The door swished closed behind her. She approached the table behind which the Inquisitor sat and stopped a few feet in front of it, silent, waiting, hands at her sides. The Inquisitor was looking into his computer screen, clicking a key every now and again. Finally, he looked up at her. He was a tall, thin man, with a face completely devoid of any human expression. She saw his eyes wandering over her body, going back between her and what he saw on the screen.

"I've called you because I've been reviewing your case, Sally" he said in almost a monotone. "You are not performing to our standard."

There was nothing she could say. Words froze in her mouth. She pressed her hands in closer, more tightly against her hips.

"Height, 5'6. Breasts, 34C. Legs long, body short and in good trim. Our system has made you physically very desirable. You passed all your training with good grades. Our records show you have understood your slave characteristics and we sold you to Master James, who wanted us to keep you here so he can enjoy you when he chooses to. He's done this... seven times now. Yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And yet his evaluation of your performance is middling at best. Sometimes, quite low. Never more than a three. Comment?" He relaxed in his chair and looked at her.

"I've.... tried to comply, Sir."

"That's it. Never more than compliance. You're not trying hard enough. We expect you to achieve at least a five. Master James is tired of you and he wants to annul the contract."

Sally thought of her dismal sessions with Master James, long and arduous, in which she had done her best to apply all the training she had received: being submissive, accepting all the pain and punishment her Master inflicted on her, trying her best to sound grateful for his attention, to act deferentially, and accepting his cock eagerly when they were together in the luxurious bedroom in which their sessions ended. The words of the Inquisitor rammed into her heart like daggers. Her Master had not told her this.

"You don't react enough."

"Sir?" she asked, not understanding what she had done wrong. It had been hard, very hard, for a normal middle-class woman to cast aside the lessons of a lifetime and become a sex slave in the House. But she had tried, tried oh so hard because there was nothing else left for her. Becoming a good, efficient slut had been her ideal, the thing that had kept her on this side of sanity. And now this was taken away!

"You don't squeal when you're hit."

"I always say how I enjoyed it, Sir!"

"You know they always want a reaction. And you just lie there when he fucks you."

"I... I guess I'm not used to showing my emotions so openly, Sir. The way I was brought up..."

"...YOUR emotions?" The words were like the lash of a whip when he raised his voice in anger.

"Oh God, sorry Sir..."

"Your emotions are SHIT!" He banged the table hard. "You react... you SHOULD react like an animal! A whore, a slut, a brainless, sexed-up SLUT!"

"I try to" she cringed.

"Trying's not good enough! You're in danger of loosing us a client! Not just that, but we're going to have to find him another slut who satisfies him and that costs us money! Do you know how much you've cost the House?"

She shook her head and felt the tears of helpless rage well up in her eyes.

"And what do we do with you? Worthless piece of fuck-meat!"

She put her hands to her face and sobbed. "I don't know Sir" she wailed.

He clicked some more buttons on his computer. "You know how to suck cock. You can take it deep, right down your throat." CLICK. "Your ass is wide enough to take a cock and you do it. Your husband never fucked your ass but we showed you how to, and how to enjoy it. You got good marks for it." CLICK. "Your husband fucked your cunt but he has a small cock, not like the monster your Master has. We thought that would bring you to your senses, but it didn't." CLICK. "You learnt to take a beating on your ass and tits without flinching or drawing away like a so-called normal woman." CLICK. "So what went wrong?"

He looked up at her. "Hands to your sides, you hopeless slut. You don't even sob out loud when you cry. How can a Master be pleased? Our clients want to hear their sluts shriek with pain, let themselves go. That's why he always hits you so hard. When was the last time you were beaten?"

"When he was here last, Sir. He tied me to an A frame and..." she shuddered "I could feel the blood run down my legs and my left nipple was nearly severed Sir. I had to spend two weeks in the infirmary!"

"And when he'd beaten you?"

"He made love... er, fucked me, Sir. And rubbed his cum on my wounds, Sir. I thanked him, I told him... I wanted him to do that to me always... I smiled at him as he hurt me in bed, the bed was covered in blood when he left in the morning... and his cum..."

Her inquisitor shook his head. "It may come as a surprise to you that you got a two for that effort."

"A TWO?"

"He did another girl the week after, when you were lying enjoying yourself in the infirmary. He gave her a ten, and she's just out of basic training. The fact is, you're useless."

She shook her head in disbelief. Her world had finally crashed down around her ankles.

"So what do you think happens now, Sally? More training? Another wasted effort? You don't think in your wildest dreams we'll let you go back to your idiot of a husband do you? 'Please husband, I've been six months in a whorehouse for pain sluts, but I'm back now'" he mimicked a high helpless female voice. "So?"

There was a long silence as Sally stood to attention in front of her Inquisitor, tears falling silently down her face and dropping on her slave shift, on her breasts.

"I... don't know Sir."

He licked his lips. "We do have another client has come recently."

She looked at him hope glimmering in her eyes.

"He has.... extreme tastes, even for us here. But you're expendable now so extreme is not a problem. You realise that you might not come out of it able bodied or even alive?"

"Yes Sir. There's no other option, is there, Sir."

"We could organise a snuff shoot. A certain way to die slowly and in agony. God knows who'll see it in the long run. Your one-time husband might even end up jacking off looking at it. But would you be convincing in the interviews before the final scene?"

She shook her head. But life had suddenly become so precious! She looked around the room, smelt the air, felt her feet in her high and tight shoes. Her nipples slowly rose. To live!

"I'll... take my chances with your new client, Sir" she murmured.

"So be it." CLICK. "Starvation from now on, six salt tablets to dry your guts out. Ready for the client at six, spend the rest of your time waiting in your room, naked on your bed. At six you'll report to... ah... room 46." She gave a small shudder. Room 46 was a large room with no beds, no amenities. Just a table with the usual implements and a few posts. It was known as the 'extreme pain room.'

"Hair in the standard punishment knot. Go now."

She turned and walked out, shoulders back, head level, the way that had been drummed in to her. Sally was always letter perfect. He watched her leave. Letter perfect, yes, but they had never managed to crack open that reserve in her. Not even the Master who had bought her! Who was, he reminded himself, a real pig to deal with. The system was good, it was thorough. But sometimes women arrived here who were promising to start with, and who didn't manage to give the satisfaction that the total submission of mind, heart, and body demanded.

Make or break. He thought as he watched the door close behind her pleasantly-rounded rump. We shall see.

+++

In the infirmary, she smelt the familiar mix of odours and sounds of a luxury ward in a hospital. The procedure for getting tablets was you had to stand with your mouth wide open while the male nurse flicked the pellets into your throat, swallowing quickly after each time - and getting your mouth open before he could growl at you. She got them all down, somehow, and was awarded a small paper cup of water. She thanked the nurse and clip-clopped back to her room on her high heels.

The 'punishment knot' was a way of tying your hair up at the back so it stayed up, kept your neck bare, and could be grabbed by your client and held securely in his fist. She stood in the mirror, watching her upraised breasts, arms up behind her, as she did her hair up the way she'd been taught. Tight enough? She gave it a small jerk this way and that. Ouch. Yes. Nevertheless, she felt positive. The bottom had been reached, she'd hit the floor. Now, perseverance and application would bring her back.

Naked, lying on her back on the bed, legs slightly apart, arms at her sides. Her breasts flopped a little to either side. Eyes open. You weren't allowed to sleep when you were waiting. Her eyes traced the outline of the white ceiling where it met the walls, over and over again. She tried to relax and when she felt herself wanting to close her eyes (never close your eyes when waiting) she started to think of her husband again. Such a tender loving person! She remembered how they'd melted together in sensual acts of sex that were so different to what she did now that it could have been another planet, another species. She remembered how on warm days he rolled his sweater over his shoulders, and how good he looked in his business suits. When she realised that tears were running down her cheeks, she switched topic.

There was the terrible letter they'd made her write, once she'd been processed here, in the House.

"Dear Darling

As you most probably realise the last few years of our marriage have been a bit of a sham, haven't they. I've got to go and do something else for a year. A clean break is best isn't it. I may write back to you once the year is over or not. Depends on how I will feel then.

Best wishes..."

And the letters of resignation from the hospital where she had worked, from her various committees, goodbyes to friends. All by hand, signed by her, to be posted from God knows where. Her heart beat faster at the total disconnect that they had made her do. Always the constant fear of another whipping, being left suspended for hours on end, denial of food, sleep...

Why had she stepped 'this way' when the three men had walked up to her that morning in the high street? They were tall, serious, dark suited. One flashed something from his wallet. A moment's inattention! She had stopped, turned, and then suddenly she'd been pushed into the back seat of a large sedan with tinted windows which was driving away before she could open her mouth. Her life had changed.

Already in the car they'd started on her. A guy on one side grabbed her wrist and pulled it down.

"You're fuckmeat" he hissed, suddenly malevolent where a moment ago he'd been bland and official. She felt the other grope her breast under her jacket and tried to squirm away, do something, say something. The one who held her hand used it to push her skirt up her legs, laddering her stockings, and wedged her fingers into her panties.

"Masturbate, fuckmeat!" She looked into his eyes and she felt utter terror. The first pang of real terror in her life. The terror that was to echo through the following months - a recurring theme until she tamed it.

Her heart was thumping fast now. She was allowed to masturbate while waiting but she thought she'd hold off a while longer until she was starting to feel really sleepy. Her tummy gurgled from the salt tablets. Hours passed. She managed to smooth all those thoughts down again and return to calm, eyes open, watching the ceiling.

+++

At five to six, there was a knock on her door and Prima pushed her way in. She was dressed in kinky black leather and her boobs and ass hung out. Sally wondered if she was destined to be vic or perp that evening.

"Come on, get your shift and heels on. Need to pee? No? Come on then."

She winced as she put the heels on, and let the gossamer shift descend down her body. The less you had to prepare, the worse it would be, she thought as she followed Prima down the corridors. There they were, room 46.

"Serve well" Prima nodded at her. It was the standard ritual between slaves.

"You too, Prima." She nodded back at Prima who turned and walked off, her leather-framed ass marked with the scars of many beatings, wobbling lewdly. Sally knocked and opened the door.

In the centre was a large wooden armchair. In it sat a naked man, large, muscles run to fat on his chest and belly, dark curly hair everywhere. He was masturbating himself looking at the wall. Sally glanced where he was looking. The whole wall was a large display. A woman, crucified, wriggling weakly. The man beckoned her over to him.

"Did her myself. She's just about to croak it... look!" The camera went close up to the woman's breasts and face. She looked up with an expression of hopeless despair and stiffened as if something had been rammed up her body. She kept stiff like that for a few seconds, and then gave a loud groan. Her face lost all animation, her head fell forwards, and her body slumped. A woman no different to who and what she was herself, Sally understood this. Now not alive any more.

"When did... she die?" Sally whispered.

"Two weeks ago. I've been jacking off on this vid ever since."

"What was her name?"

"Her name? How the fuck should I know? Wait... it was... it was Elizabeth; Elizabeth, that's what she told me, anyway."

Sally closed her eyes for a moment. Please God, be merciful to Elizabeth, she prayed. And to me, and all of us, clients and slaves alike because much as the system was designed to make her hate and despair, she had decided she was not going to live with hate. She opened her eyes to see the man beside her copied on the vid. Dressed in black. She watched as he lazily sauntered up to the crucified woman. He looked up at her, drew out a small dagger and stabbed her hard in the gut. Her body was motionless.

"Like stabbing a sack of potatoes" the man mumbled to her. "Completely dead."

His image on the vid nodded back the viewers, and the scene dissolved.

"So what's your name?"

"Sally, Sir."

"Is that your given name, or you always had it?"

She shook her head. "I was Sarah... before, Sir. They thought that was too fussy for a slave."

He nodded. "Tend to agree. What did you used to do, before?"

"I was a nurse, Sir."

"A good one?"

"Senior at an early age." She hadn't spoken about herself for months and months and it felt really strange to be doing this, almost naked, standing next to a man who was slowly masturbating a cock that was heavy, long, and thick.

"So you when you got here, you knew all about pain?"

She nodded. "I learnt about my own, here."

"Management, isn't it?" She looked at him, a little shocked. "The science of managing pain. You do that, don't you?"

She nodded.

"That's why you never let go. You're a professional to the core. You're still managing pain as quietly and scientifically as you can, even when it's your own."

She nodded again. This man knew her inside out! What was he in real life? She looked at the hands. Neat, deft movements. One met men from all walks of life in the House. So long as they were rich enough. She dared not ask what he did or who he was. She glanced at his face. No - nobody she could recognise. She was almost sure she had never met him.

"Luckily, I don't care" he smiled at her, a cruel twist of the lips. "To me, you're just a piece of pleasant-looking fuckmeat I'm going to have fun with. Manage your pain as much as you like. I pay for extremes. Go over to that table there. We've got some prepping to do before we start."

A surgeon, she thought dumbly as she clicked her way to the table, the memory of a summer evening party suddenly coming back to her. A well-respected, high profile surgeon. Beloved by his patients, staff, students... everybody. Who consigns women to death in brutal agony in his weekends off and jerks off on the vids. On the table was a large O-ring gag, some spools of thin green wire, polystyrene plugs of various sizes, tweezers and clamps all glittering silver, tubes of stuff. Laid out with surgical precision.

"First, let's get rid of your modesty, girl." He seized her shift at the neck and ripped it apart quickly. It fell to her feet in tatters. Had he wanted to do that to her then? She doubted he'd even noticed her. "Not that there was much modesty there in the first place." He chuckled to himself. "Just how old were you when you were... taken?"

"Thirty-two, Sir."

"Thirty-two. Still a little girl at thirty-two." He stroked the top of her breast with the back of a finger. "Breasts in good shape, mostly. Some faint scarring." He rubbed at a line for a moment "Yes, some deep ones, but well healed. You got beaten on the tits often?"

"It was my... ex-Master's favourite way of getting me to scream, Sir."

"The hard way's the only way, sometimes. How does it feel to have the blood from your tits spatter your face?"

She shuddered a little. "Not very nice, Sir. Best to try and scream as loud as you can so he won't do it again."

He stroked her breasts almost fondly. "You really do despise us, don't you?"

She stood, dumb. What could she say? Either way, she would be damned. He gave her bottom a little slap, ending the moment. "Since you don't say much, I can start with the gag. Open wide!"

Sally opened her mouth as wide as she could. The O was large - large enough to fit his cock. He jammed the top edge against her upper teeth and then hissed as he pushed her jaw down.

"Open wider, cunt, or I'll have to break some teeth!" His fingers went into her mouth and pushed down.

"AAAARGG... AAAARG!" She stretched her jaw to breaking point and felt the lower part of the ring grate against the tips of her lower teeth, suddenly clicking into place. Her teeth jarred as he turned it round so the side flanges were now reaching her gums. She knew there was no way she was going to get this out by herself. They'd have to dislocate her jaw in the infirmary later.

"Now..." he busied himself at the table and came back with a small plug on the end of a pair of tweezers. He was applying some clear stuff out of tube to the end of it. "Just surgical glue. You can dissolve it with the right solvent, you remember." He bent down and delicately inserted the plug up her nostril. "Ghastly stuff if it gets on your hands... sets in seconds... Ah, there we are!" He tamped the plug further back with his tweezers. Sally felt the blockage in her nostril, as if she had a bad cold. "Just the merest hint of an intriguing pink" he murmured. "Now the other one." The glue stung a bit and it made her eyes water, but very soon it had set and she was breathing only through her wide-open mouth, head back, like a horse.

"You've been to the toilet today?"

She nodded, no longer able to speak.

"I hate it when girls go loose on me... piss and shit stinks. I should know. Bend over." His expert hands whirled her round and made her bend over the table where she got a very clear view of the spools of green wire. Meanwhile, he was stuffing something cold and wet up her bottom. "I'm gluing a plug up your bum" he explained. "It'll stop your bum collapsing out and it'll stop your shits. There! Got it all in... straighten now? Yes... the merest flash of something pink inside there. But we need something a lot bigger up your cunt. Something to stop your womb falling out." He picked up a large dildo with his tongs.

"Legs apart, lean back on the table!"

She opened her legs out and leaned her elbows back on the table. She saw him ooze glue on the dildo and then felt him side it into her.... down deep, nestling against her cervix. He pushed the end protruding from her pussy lips into her, and squished glue over it. She gasped in pain as he gripped her inner pussy lips with his tongs and flattened them over the end of the dildo. "There we are... just a slight bulge on your mound of Venus" he patted her mound. "But no way of showing you have anything there at all. No pee, no fuss, no mess. Come and see yourself in the mirror."

He grabbed her by her punishment knot and walked her over to the full length mirror. Everything was a recording instrument here, she remembered. She looked at herself. Mouth grossly distended with an O-ring gag; slightly pink nostrils. Her shaven pussy looked completely normal. "Good, eh? It'll take some time to get that shit out of you, but don't worry just now. I won't. I'm going to enjoy you now!"

Her heart leapt in sudden delight as he spoke about the 'after.' So she wasn't doomed to snuff it after all! He must have seen the expression on her face because he snickered.

"Of course, you might not NEED to get that stuff out, eh?"

They always try to scare you, she said to herself. They always try to make you a gibbering, nervous wreck before they even begin. Because for many of them, that's the thing. Their large pieces of equipment are pathetic little toys that never give them the satisfaction they get from seeing a woman crawl in front of them in abject fear. Or else, they can't fuck you till they're made you worse than the animal they are. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as he led her to the equipment he was going to use on her. She would play scared, but she reached for calm.

Two uprights, well set in the floor. Space for a woman to kneel between them; with her arms outstretched the uprights would be at her finger tips. Between the uprights a metal bar that could be adjusted up and down horizontally.

"Kneel down, touching the bar with your body... get it under your tits." She wriggled up and down until her breasts were spread over the top of the bar. It was a bit cold against her body. The ground was hard on her knees. This is routine, she kept on saying to herself. This is routine and nothing much is happening. "Hands over the bar.. good, just rest your wrists on it.. like that, yes. Now, you've never been tied with wire before, have you?"

She shook her head. She'd have said no, anyway.

"It's more brutal than rope. It'll bite into soft flesh. I want to wrap your wrists in it before I wire them to the bar" He'd lifted her left wrist and was winding the wire tight around it: once, twice, three times. Sally knew she's be loosing circulation very quickly. How long would this last, she wondered? A time limit on a tourniquet is 20 minutes. Once he'd bound her wrist he then placed it on the bar and wound the wire around both it and the bar a few more times. He finished by a few turns between her wrist and the bar. God! It was tight. She extended her fingers, already starting to go blue. "Yes, it's pretty horrific isn't it. Wait for ten minutes and it'll be purple." He flicked her fingers with his. "Still got sensation? Won't be for long... now let's do the other hand..."

With her two wrists hard bound to the bar she shuddered as he hefted one of her breasts. She made a wordless howl of terror as he wrapped the wire tightly round one of her breasts... two, three times! Her breast took on that strange pear shape, bulging at the nipples. He fastened the imprisoned breast to the bar. All the time he was so close to her, she could see his cock twitching, could smell his semen. A small drop of pre-cum had dropped to the ground. She breathed fast as her other breast was made into a pear shape and attached. He stood back and admired his handwork, stroking his cock very gently. She looked up into his eyes, helplessly.

"It's always worth the build-up" he smirked, looking her over. "I'm fairly close to cumming anyway, so it shouldn't take that long... long enough for your tits and hands to go black and blue though. Ah well..."

He stepped close to her and handled his cock into her mouth through the O ring. She tasted him, her tongue ran under it, breathing fast.

"Nice warm mouth you have, Sally, and I appreciate the tongue work. Shame you can't close and suck but we can do a little something..." he pushed his cock deeper into her, into her throat, one hand on her punishment knot. She panicked; her air was completely cut off now! She looked up at him eyes wide.

"Suck, try to draw a breath in." She could feel his cock pulled further into her. She'd got rid of her gag reflex months ago but this was just so deep! She tried to breathe out, to expel it, but he laughed and pushed himself in harder.

"Nice one Shelly! Again!"

Neither breathing in nor out could do anything. He was permanently stuck in her throat! She felt his slap over the side of her head, so hard her ears rang. "Keep your eyes on mine, slut!" She looked up at him. He smiled and slowly eased his cock out of her throat. Air. Thank god, thank god! She realised he had drawn her back in to become aware of herself as a helpless, reacting thing.

"Your tits and fingers are pretty purple now. See them?"

She steeled herself to look down and sideways. Her breasts had got very red and purple, and her nipples were extended like rubber teats. They felt as if they were going to explode! As for her fingers, she could no longer even twitch them. She felt him pinching her nipple and giving her breast a small slap. Panic raced through her as she thought of what had happened to her body so quickly.

"Gorgeous. I wish I could have them like this all night!" Instead, he put his cock back into her mouth. "Watch me - otherwise I won't know when you pass out."

He slid deeper and deeper, more easily now into her throat, choking off her air. She felt herself desperately dragging for breath again as he thrust his cock in and out of her, his tempo gradually increasing. She shifted her knees on the hard floor - she was still in her hated heels! Her eyes began to swim as her face purpled and she heard the throbbing of her blood in her ears, a pulsing in her temples. His hand on her punishment knot, he was using her head like a fuck puppet! Her vision started to get mixed up, blurred and she saw stars in her eyes. She felt something loosen in her bowels and an acid spasm in her chest. She howled, wordlessly.

She regained consciousness to find herself slumped over the bar, breathing fast. Her breasts were, on my God, her breasts were hideously purple and strained as if they'd been inflated! She felt him seize her by her punishment knot and raise her back upright again. It was easier to breathe that way. How long had this been going on for, she wondered. Was she over the limit already? Had tissue degeneration started? Did he intend to (she said it to herself) snuff her? Or just have her wrists amputated?

"See here" he was masturbating himself again just in front of her face. "For a girl, there are three stages. At first, you don't want to. You scream and cry and protest because you're afraid of the pain, yes? But pain happens, and you find out you're coping. You can cope. At this stage you want it to last as long as you can make it, because you know what's coming. You know, don't you?" He looked into her eyes. She nodded dumbly. Of course! She had know since this morning. It wouldn't be that much longer now, she consoled herself. She wished her mouth wasn't gagged with the O ring so she could thank him. Her whole capture, training, imprisonment, sale - all that had been a dreadful mistake which would now be fixed.

"The second stage: we can draw it out nice and long. Now you realise, I can keep you here all night, cumming and peeing into that beautifully presented throat. Every moment is precious, isn't it?" He smiled and gently fed his hard cock back into her mouth, moving it around inside, his cockhead under her tongue. "Life - suddenly becomes very precious. But I can tell when a girl comes to the end of her tether. She becomes listless, apathetic. Not even a sharp blow raises much response from her. Then she's ready to embrace it. That's the third stage. Are you there yet, Sally?"

She hadn't really fooled herself. She was still there, at rock bottom. She'd been ready for this moment for months, knowing that this would be the inevitable outcome of the mistake that had been her abduction. For the third time, she felt his cock slide into her throat - he'd timed it on an outbreath, and that meant she involuntarily sucked him in deeper, harder.

"In your case... I don't care Sally" he was speaking quietly, almost as if murmuring sweet nothings to a lover. His face was kindly now, relaxed as he looked down at her, his fat and hairy stomach against her face. My last view of a man's face - between his hairy tits! She blinked, tried to summon up a calming thought to die on, but all she could feel was the crushing sense of the failure that she had been made into. Her heart beat fast, faster, she felt her vision blurring again. She felt her head pushed to and fro as his cock jammed down her throat, not getting a gasp of air into her lungs. "That's fantastic... my total babe... I wish my mother could see me now... I'm not gonna cum into you until you're out, Sally... I'm trying not to cum... if you make it through this one, we'll do more later... oh fuck..."

His voice droned on and on in her ears. She felt herself disconnecting, but not to peace - to roaring static.

"You dumb useless fuck."

Nothing. The velvet blankness of total failure. Improbably, she felt the ground give away beneath her and her whole body shot down fast into a yawning blackness.