The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus)

by Adriana Arden

  But the thrill of mastering Kashika had taken over, and her own juices made a slippery sheen on her inner thighs. Now she understood what Zara and Miss Kyle felt when they had chastised her. Kashika was hers to do with as she wished, hers to dominate, to celebrate her loving submission in the only way possible.

  Little by little, by tweak, caress and smack, she brought Kashika to a state of almost deliriously frustrated need, which under Miss Kyle’s expert direction she had been careful not to allow the release of orgasm. Kashika squirmed and tugged at her bonds, gurgling and whimpering round her gag, her eyes full of pleading. ‘Please let me come, Mistress!’ they begged.

  ‘Is your little cunt hungry now?’ Vanessa asked, fondling Kashika’s mound and revelling in its soft pliancy.

  Kashika nodded, straining to lift her hips as far as her bonds permitted.

  ‘Does it want feeding?’

  Again the mute nod.

  Vanessa tossed the paddle aside and took another item from Zara’s gift bag. It was a shocking pink double dildo of huge proportions, with large fake testicles where the roots of the two members joined. In place of pubic hair was a bristle of soft rubber prongs for clitoral stimulation.

  Feeling her own need could not be long delayed, Vanessa pushed one end up into herself, gasping as the monster filled her to the brim. She glimpsed herself in the bedroom spy mirror, with plastic balls and a fantastic pink cock standing proud, almost reaching to her navel.

  An incredible sense of potency infused her. She was the master and Kashika her slave. This was her moment.

  Scrambling on to the bed between Kashika’s widespread thighs, she rammed the head of her pseudo-cock into the dark mouth of Kashika’s waiting screw-hole and lunged with her hips, forcing a stifled squeal of pain from the girl which she endured because she was there to suffer. Her nipples ground painfully against Kashika’s clamped teats and she revelled in her own pain.

  She rode Kashika with wild abandon, feeling the buzzing of the anal vibrator transmitted though the dildo and the teasing of the clit prongs. She smothered Kashika’s helpless gagged mouth with rough kisses and called her a hot, shameless, slave-slut. Then she came wildly even as Kashika bucked under her and their bodies spasmed again and again until they sank together into blissful exhaustion.

  Vanessa awoke in the small hours.

  Kashika was stirring in the cradle of her arms. They each had an ankle cuffed to the foot of the bed and anal lock cables trailing from between their buttocks. Was it standard Shiller practice to customise beds with two anal locks, Vanessa wondered fleetingly, or had somebody anticipated just this situation? At that moment she did not care.

  Vanessa kissed and stroked Kashika sleepily. Monitoring would be on automatic at that time of night, so she murmured softly: ‘There was something I meant to ask you. “Kashika” is a lovely name, but does it mean anything?’

  ‘It means: “The Shining One”, Mistress. Because of my hair.’

  Vanessa chuckled softly. ‘Well, you’ve certainly illuminated my life. And changed it. I won’t be the same girl walking into the office tomorrow. Oh, and please don’t tell the other girls what I really am.’

  ‘If that’s what you want, Mistress.’

  ‘Yes. I must see out your training period without any more complications, so I can be sure I’ll make the right choice when my agreement with the Director ends.’

  ‘But you won’t give us away now, Mistress?’ Kashika asked anxiously. ‘Not now you know we want to be slaves.’

  ‘It’s not that simple. I know I’m getting a taste for this sort of life and it’s clouding my judgement. Even if you are all consenting slaves, what Shiller is doing is still illegal. I’ve got to be sure it’s not truly wrong. Do you see?’

  Kashika seemed to accept this and was silent for a moment, then said: ‘Will you get into trouble for trying to free me, Mistress?’

  ‘Maybe. I don’t care.’ She kissed Kashika. ‘It was worth it.’

  ‘The Director won’t … take you away from us, Mistress?’

  Vanessa kissed her again, more passionately. ‘I hope not …’ Abruptly she rolled on top of Kashika, pinning her down, and felt for the cuff holsters in the bedhead. ‘But just in case, I’d better make the most of you right now …’

  Twelve

  VANESSA COULD SEE by the look on Jarvis’s face the next morning that she was not in his good books. But he waited until Miss Kyle had led away Kashika, casting one last loving smile at Vanessa, before speaking his mind.

  ‘You slipped one past me last night, girl. Sneaking a note out like that. Made me look as though I can’t do my job properly.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Jarvis,’ Vanessa said as she knelt before him on the locker-room floor. He had removed her spywear but not yet put on her slave chains. ‘I was doing what I thought was right. I wasn’t trying to get you into trouble.’

  ‘Maybe not, but it’s the principle that matters, girl. This place works on discipline and obedience. You’ve all got to be a bit afraid of us in charge. That’s natural for slave-girls. And even though you’re not properly one of them, the rules have got to be enforced. The Director may let what you did pass, but down here I can’t afford to …’ He undid his belt and pulled it free of its loops. ‘So you know what I have to do now?’

  Vanessa knew. It seemed so clear and obvious she felt no surprise. ‘You’ve got to punish me, Mr Jarvis, in case any other girl learns what I did and gets the idea she can smuggle something past you as well.’ Despite her lustful night, she felt the now familiar sluttish response stirring in her loins as her body prepared for the inevitable. She held her arms out before her, wrists crossed. ‘Would you like me up against the wall?’

  And then she added something that surprised even herself, but came out quite naturally. ‘If you’re going to give me a punishment fuck as well, Mr Jarvis, please could you use my bum-hole because my cunt’s still sore? I douched and greased myself before breakfast so I’m perfectly fresh …’

  Jarvis tied her wrists to a ring on the wall, leaving some slack in the tethering rope. Then he arranged two benches so that they extended out from the wall on either side of her. To these he tied her spread ankles. He looped a rope about her waist and drew the free ends down on either side and tied them to the benches behind her ankles. This pulled her belly down, putting tension on her arms and forcing her to stick her haunches out and back, offering their smooth curves to him to do with as he wished.

  The belting was not that severe, just six lashes, but he laid each one neatly across her buttocks and paused between blows to stroke her bottom and feel its growing heat, building the anticipation inside her. When he was done he unzipped his flies and vigorously sodomised her, thrusting his thick cockshaft hard and deep and making her squeal in a satisfactory manner.

  When he had spent himself inside her with a grunt and had pulled his cock out of her now reddened bum-hole, she blinked away her tears and said huskily: ‘Thank you, Mr Jarvis. I won’t be a bad girl again. I’ve learnt my lesson.’

  He grinned and patted her sore bottom. ‘And don’t you forget it, girl!’

  And that was it. He’d reasserted his mastery of her and all was back to what passed for normal at Shillers. He untied her, flushed her rectum clean in the adjoining shower room, and put on her slave chains.

  ‘Now, I think the Director’s sent somebody down for you …’

  A slim blonde slave-girl in a white collar was waiting in the lobby. Though she did not recognise her bright open face, Vanessa felt there was something familiar about her.

  ‘Here she is, Sandra,’ Jarvis said.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Jarvis,’ she replied.

  They both kissed his boots and crawled out of the slave hatch. Standing up again outside, Vanessa said: ‘You cleaned up after me the first day I was here.’

  Sandra smiled cheerfully. She hardly looked eighteen, but she carried herself with the unconscious grace and self-assurance of somebody older. ‘That’s right
. And even though you were confused and frightened you remembered to say thank you. I liked that.’ She led the way to the lifts, which she opened with her own key card dangling from her collar. Inside she pressed the button for the top floor.

  As the lift started up, Vanessa said: ‘You’re the only girl I’ve seen so far in a white collar. I guess that’s something special.’

  ‘It means I belong to the Director’s personal chain,’ Sandra said, with a distinct touch of pride.

  ‘And do the Director’s own slaves often have to mop up pee and wipe girls’ pussies clean?’

  ‘A Shiller slave does whatever she’s told,’ Sandra replied simply.

  ‘Like telling the Director how an inconvenient reporter was coping with being screwed on a rack?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Sandra admitted.

  ‘Yet you wore a hood all the time.’

  ‘But I could still hear you, and smell your juices and touch you when I cleaned you up. That was quite enough.’

  Vanessa blushed at the thought of such an intimate appraisal being carried out without her knowledge. ‘And what did all that tell you about how I felt?’

  Sandra smiled. ‘That’s between me and the Director.’

  The lift stopped and they stepped out into the penthouse level.

  It was a light, airy foyer, with glass doors opening on to a lush roof garden. A double row of glass-topped desks ran down each side of the room occupied by half a dozen women working at computer keyboards, who were naked save for white collars and sandals and wore slave chains and ankle hobbles.

  Sandra led the way down the middle of the room to a large frosted-glass double door. She knocked on it and then went down on to her hands and knees. Vanessa copied her.

  When the doors slid silently apart, the girls shuffled into the room beyond and the doors closed behind them. Glancing sideways Vanessa saw that a pair of hooded slave-girls operated them, facing away from each other like bookends and crawling back and forth on their hands and knees.

  Eye bolts were set low down close to the glass-door panel edges where they butted together, and from these ran chains which hooked into anal rings protruding from between their upturned buttocks. By pulling on them the girls slid the doors open. A second pair of bolts was set in the outer edges of each panel. From these ran chains that ended in figure-of-eight loops that were tightly bound about the girls’ pendant breasts. Vanessa saw the pair backing up to pull the doors closed and winced in sympathy as their breasts bunched and stretched under the strain.

  The room was as airy as the outer chamber, with sliding glass doors opening on to the same rooftop garden. Between the windows were two small trees growing out of large pots. Planted in front of them and bound to their slender trunks, as Vanessa had seen Bethany the day she first arrived, was a pair of naked hooded slave-girls.

  Shiller herself sat behind a huge leather-topped desk, empty except for a single slim screen and keyboard. She was the darkest thing in the room in her black suit. A pair of backless stools stood in front of the desk.

  ‘I’ve brought Vanessa as you ordered, Director,’ Sandra said.

  ‘Thank you, Sandra. Come up here, both of you.’

  Without actually standing upright, Sandra shuffled up to the desk and used the right-hand stool to climb gracefully on to its green-leather top. Vanessa copied her using the left-hand stool, sitting back in the display posture on the other side of the computer console. They must look like a pair of exotic executive toys, Vanessa thought.

  Shiller considered Vanessa thoughtfully for a moment, then said: ‘When I was young I found I had a liking both for women and discipline that was hard to satisfy in the conservative community where I grew up. So I moved to a large city where I was able to better satisfy my desires. But at the same time I saw too many women forced to prostitute themselves in a manner alien to their natures, while also being exploited by those who controlled them. And so I decided to find an ethical solution to the problem. And now you would destroy all that.’

  Once again Vanessa felt her resolve wilting in the Director’s commanding presence, but she forced herself to speak clearly.

  ‘I believe now that all the girls I’ve seen are happy to be slaves, Director. But is it right that you encouraged them to come here in the first place?’

  ‘It is in their natures. They were destined to be slaves. We give them the chance to live that life in a safe, controlled environment. Left to themselves many of them would end up in far less scrupulous hands. Remember that.’

  ‘Maybe that’s true, Director, but you still charge for their services, or whatever you want to call it.’

  ‘A fair proportion of which is paid into bank accounts for their use when they retire from our employment.’

  ‘But it’s still illegal and probably immoral. I’m just not sure if it’s wrong or not, in the deepest sense of the word.’

  Shiller smiled coolly. ‘That’s quite a complex philosophical problem you have set yourself. And on its resolution hangs the existence of my girlflesh company.’

  ‘I suppose it does, Director.’ She bit her lip, thinking of the plea Kashika had made. ‘If I do decide against I’ll give you the chance to close down the business first and get rid of all your slaves. If you do that, then I’ll keep quiet.’

  Sandra gave a fearful shiver, while Shiller bowed her head slightly. ‘That would be very considerate, Vanessa.’

  ‘Assuming you’ll still let me make my choice freely, Director.’

  ‘I gave my word I would not hinder you. That promise still stands.’

  ‘But that doesn’t stop you trying to influence me, does it? Trying to suck me into your world.’

  Shiller smiled. ‘It would be strange if I did not try to do so, would it not? But reflect also, that your own treatment could have been much gentler. I could have ordered you to be given a show of false courtesy and consideration. Instead you have been treated in every way as a probationary slave might expect.’

  Yes, that had puzzled her. ‘But why?’

  ‘To allow you to know the truth, of course. What it is to be girlflesh.’

  The thought made her shiver. Quickly she asked: ‘Was it really chance that Zara won Kashika in the raffle and then gave her to me, Director?’

  Shiller shrugged. ‘Does it matter? Kashika is exactly as she seems to be. You will find no falsehood in her.’

  ‘And why did you put Sandra in my cell to spy on me that first day?’

  ‘To confirm my initial assessment of your nature. Which she did.’

  ‘Which was?’

  Shiller smiled. ‘I think I shall reserve that answer until after you make your decision as to our fate. Now, you had better go back down to your office. I believe Zara Fulton wishes to talk to you …’

  Vanessa had expected Zara to punish her immediately and personally for her escapade with Kashika as Jarvis had done, but it was not quite as simple as that. While Vanessa knelt before her in her office, Zara delivered an angry rant.

  ‘You promised me you’d take good care of Kashika. That does not include upsetting her by trying to make her run into a police station!’

  ‘I thought I was doing it for her own good, Mistress Editor!’ Vanessa protested.

  ‘But you know better now?’

  Vanessa sighed. ‘I believe she is a natural submissive here of her own free will, Mistress Editor.’

  ‘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 admitt
ed 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.