The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus) (2 page)

Miss Kyle’s eyes flashed in delight. She reached behind the bracket supporting Vanessa’s head and drew out a red ball-gag threaded through with a loop of thick rubber cord. Even as Vanessa gasped in dismay, Miss Kyle forced the ball into her mouth. The cords cut into her cheeks, pulling her lips back and leaving her exposed white teeth clamping on the ball itself.

From under each side of the padded board Miss Kyle drew out what looked like two halves of a front-fastening bra. The cups were metal bands capped by open-topped domes of springy wire and the straps black elastic cords. She slid the cups over Vanessa’s breasts, ignoring her gurgles and groans of protest as her nipples squeezed out of the open tops. A turnscrew tightened the base bands until soft flesh bulged out through the wire lattice. Miss Kyle clipped
the
two cups together and Vanessa’s breasts were transformed into twin pale mushrooms of flesh topped by dark inflamed nipples. To Vanessa they felt both caged and horribly exposed.

From the wall behind the rack, which bore an array of strange devices on hooks and shelves, Miss Kyle collected something resembling a garden-hose spray gun. A transparent plastic cup was fitted about the barrel, which extended into a long flexible rubber nozzle; behind it trailed a bundle of three coloured hoses connected to a tap in the wall.

Briskly Miss Kyle inserted the tube into Vanessa’s anus, slid it up to its full length so that the cup pressed firmly against her skin, and pressed the trigger.

Vanessa gasped as warm water flooded through her rectal passage. She was being given an enema, but why? No, surely not …

She moaned and shook her head desperately. Yet perversely she felt a tingle of anticipation in her loins and the first sensation of warm wetness flow through the fleshy folds of her vulva. Her body was preparing for what her mind still fought against.

Air hissed, sucking the waste water out of the plastic cup as it spurted out of Vanessa’s bottom. When she was clean, Miss Kyle pumped a plunger with her thumb and Vanessa felt lubricating jelly spurt into her and begin to melt away.

Miss Kyle pulled the enema gun free and inspected Vanessa’s vagina with an experienced finger, smiling when it came away already glistening with natural lubrication. She hooked the gun on to the side of the rack and unfolded another device from the centre section, which she locked into place between Vanessa’s thighs. Fighting the pressure of her neck strap and the springs that held her bit in place,
Vanessa
looked down between her distorted breasts and gave a choking gasp.

Twin dildos projected from a metal box, mounted one above the other so that they were only a few centimetres apart. The upper dildo was longer and thicker, and had a spray of rubber prongs bristling from its base. Miss Kyle positioned the device so that the tip of the upper phallus nuzzled between the lips of Vanessa’s trembling cleft in line with her vaginal passage, while the lower centred on her anus.

From the shelves Miss Kyle now selected a short-handled device on which was mounted a small metal wheel, like a rider’s spur, bearing a dozen glittering spikes. Holding the spur-wheel in one hand, Miss Kyle smiled down at Vanessa as she threw a switch under the rack.

The motor driving the twin dildos hummed into life and began inexorably propelling them forward and back, at the same time setting them vibrating fiercely. Vanessa’s clenched vaginal muscles were forced to open as the larger dildo plunged its full length deep into her secret passage. As it withdrew, its smaller twin drove into her tight bottom hole, spreading its reluctant guardian sphincter and sinking deep into the hot, greased sheath of her rectum.

Vanessa strained and squirmed in her bonds, venting muffled shrieks and groans as her front and back passages were alternately penetrated in a remorseless rhythm. What was even worse, the vibration of the larger dildo set the bristling prongs about its base trembling fiercely as they rode up her moist cleft, parting the folds of flesh and exposing Vanessa’s clitoris to their pulsating touch.

Vanessa shuddered helplessly. No man or sex toy inside her had ever previously felt like this.

A pinpoint ring of fire burned into life on the
bulging
dome of her right breast, forcing a muffled yelp past her gag. Miss Kyle had rolled the spur-wheel across her flesh in a circle about the edge of its areola. The spikes were too short to do any real harm, not penetrating beyond the fatty tissue that sheathed Vanessa’s breasts and gave them their graceful contours, but they stung unbearably.

Before she could recover, Miss Kyle drew another circle in the pliant mound of Vanessa’s left breast.

Vanessa yelped again, drooling round her gag, even as she felt the blood pulsing through her caged breasts to her nipples, swelling them into erection. And all the while the dildos pumped away inside her. She was being totally humiliated and abused, yet incredibly she was also becoming deeply aroused. Her whole body was coming alive. She was aware of every exposed square centimetre of her flesh. Crudely applied pain alone she could have fought, but this was something else and she felt her will crumbling.

Soon a dozen pinprick trails crossed Vanessa’s breasts. Helplessly she responded to the stinging pain and pulses of raw pleasure that coursed through her body in the only way left to her.

Through misted eyes, Vanessa saw the Director leaning forwards slightly in her chair as the dildos reamed into her, watching her clitoris rise into hard erection and her bottom bulge as it was filled. The sight sent a fresh thrill of shameful excitement coursing through Vanessa. She was being tortured and masturbated in front of a sadistic pervert. From her pincushion breasts to her dripping vagina, Shiller could see every intimate detail of her ordeal as it led to its inevitable climax.

And Vanessa was going to come, more quickly than she could have imagined. The pressure was building inside her. She couldn’t fight it any longer …

She screamed behind her gag as her body went into orgasm, straining with wonderful futility against the straps and clamps that held her so securely. The muscles of her vagina clamped on to the plunging upper phallus and for a moment its driving motor growled in protest. Discharge sprayed from her tightly plugged orifice and trickled down the impaling shafts. Then she went limp as she descended into the warm dark pit of release …

Vanessa was dimly aware of the dildos being extracted. Her gag was removed and a beaker of water was pressed against her lips. Automatically she drank. Her groin ached with its exertions and her breasts burned. Sweat was drying on her body. Blinking her eyes open, she saw Miss Kyle and the Director examining her with obvious satisfaction, and knew with despairing certainty that they had made their point. They controlled whatever pain or pleasure she experienced. Her pinpricked breasts throbbed in their wire cages. The stinging had diminished to a tolerable level, but it was a continuing reminder of what could be done again.

‘Now,’ Shiller said briskly, ‘perhaps you will tell us what we want to know?’

Too shocked to resist any further, Vanessa choked out: ‘All right … just … please … don’t do that again …’

‘Address the Director properly,’ Miss Kyle said, giving a warning pinch and twist to Vanessa’s engorged left nipple.

To her intense shame, Vanessa found the humble, subservient words bubbling from her lips. ‘I’ll tell you everything … Director. About a month ago, Mr Enwright … my editor … said he wanted to speak to me …’

Two

ENWRIGHT WAS ALONE
in the boardroom when Vanessa entered, but displayed on the big video-conference screen was the head and shoulders of a thickset man in his late fifties. He had grizzled hair and a heavy jaw, and in one hand held a cigar that he was jabbing at Enwright.

Vanessa gave a start at the sight of the famous features. It was Sir Harvey J. Rochester, owner of the
Globe
, half a dozen regional newspapers and numerous other international business interests.

Enwright motioned for Vanessa to take a seat. Sir Harvey’s eyes flickered as he looked her up and down through the camera mounted over the screen.

‘So you’re Buckingham,’ the magnate said in his familiar gravelly tones. ‘Enwright tells me you show a lot of promise. Bright, enthusiastic, go-getting.’ Sir Harvey took a puff on his cigar and waved it at Vanessa with a chuckle. ‘Reminds me a little of myself when I started out.’

‘That’s very kind of him … and you, Sir Harvey,’ Vanessa said meekly.

‘Enwright wasn’t being kind and neither am I,’ Sir Harvey replied bluntly. ‘I can recognise talent when I see it. This may be your chance to show us what you’re really made of. Think you’re up to handling a
big
story, Vanessa, one that’ll put your name on the front page?’

‘I’d like the chance, of course, Sir Harvey. But if it’s as big as you say, wouldn’t it be better to use someone more experienced?’

Sir Harvey shook his head. ‘I have a hunch this’ll need a different approach, a fresh angle. Maybe by somebody who doesn’t look like a reporter. It might mean undercover work and may be risky. Well?’

Thrilled and excited, Vanessa took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do my best, Sir Harvey.’

Sir Harvey favoured her with a craggy smile. ‘Good for you. Now, tell me what you know about the F. G. Shiller Company?’

‘Uh … well, Shiller Co. is based in London. It’s a successful medium-sized general management company with a range of service, technical and medical subsidiaries. That’s about it.’

‘That’ll do for a start,’ Sir Harvey said. ‘Your job is to find out all about them. I mean everything. Find out how they earn their last penny! I have my suspicions about what’s going at Shillers, something so shocking you’d hardly believe it possible …’ He frowned. ‘But I won’t say any more. You must go in absolutely unprejudiced, find out the truth for yourself and get cast-iron evidence to prove it! Start with their London office. You can have any resources you need to get the job done. Report directly to Enwright. Nobody else must know what you’re working on. Understand?’

‘Yes, Sir Harvey.’

‘Then get started, Vanessa. And good luck.’

The conference screen went blank.

The next week was spent on intensive research. Vanessa obtained copies of Shillers’ financial
statements
, business reports, corporate structure and even architectural plans of its London offices.

The company appeared perfectly legitimate. Service sector interests were its most profitable division, and obviously provided the capital for additional investment in its other areas. It was efficiently run and was well thought of in the City, who regarded it as a safe investment. However, her enquiries did unearth a couple of curious facts.

First, Shillers was very selective about hiring its staff, never using temping agencies or advertising in the usual papers. In fact it had an unusually low turnover of personnel for a company of its size. What induced such loyalty?

Then there was the matter of the construction of its London offices, which occupied a modern tower block overlooking the Thames. Vanessa noticed that the entrance foyer, reception rooms and a few general office spaces on the landward side were separated from the bulk of the building by a comprehensive system of security doors, with key-card locks specified on the plans. It was well beyond what Vanessa would have considered normal for such a building. That section also had separate lift access to the tower’s two levels of underground car parking. Entry to the lowest of these levels was further restricted by a set of internal security gates.

It was curious, but to find out more would mean somehow penetrating Shillers’ apparently loyal and close-knit structure from the outside. That would be risky, and such questioning might only alert the company. Winning an employee’s confidence by contriving an acquaintance could also take months.

The next option was to get a job at Shillers and work from the inside. Considering its highly selective employment policy, that might come to nothing, but
it
was worth trying. With her paper’s help Vanessa created a glowing if semi-fictitious CV, and sent it off. While she was waiting for the response she surreptitiously reconnoitred Shiller Tower.

For two weeks she photographed the building and anyone entering or leaving from every angle. Her attention was soon drawn to the traffic using the car-park entrance at the side of the building. Some vehicles were obviously employees’ cars while others were from office supply and service companies, which appeared about as often as might be expected. But there were also cars with tinted windows, small unmarked vans, 7.5 tonne lorries, even a horse transporter.

Vanessa rented an empty office in a building almost opposite the Tower and extended her watch late into the night and the early hours. She recorded the types of these anomalous vehicles, their usual routes and the times they came and went. It soon became evident that there was far too much traffic for a typical building of that size. Something strange was going on, but what?

Then Shillers returned her CV with a polite letter saying they were not hiring staff at present. That left only one option. Somehow she would have to risk entering the building covertly. After careful thought and calling on some of the
Globe
’s more specialised contacts, Vanessa made her plans …

Braydon Road was a narrow, featureless street formed by the backs of small industrial units and high service-yard walls, often used as a rat-run by goods vehicles. Before six in the morning, with the grey light of dawn flushing the sky, there was normally little private traffic. But as the box-sided lorry turned into the street, a car was revealed angled across the road
with
its bonnet raised. The driver, bent over the engine, signalled that he would only be a moment longer.

The lorry pulled up while the motorist fiddled with the engine, got back into his car, started it successfully, jumped out again to close the bonnet, returned to his seat with a quick wave of thanks and drove off. The lorry continued on its way and turned towards Shiller Tower. In a couple of minutes it halted at the security gate guarding the entrance to the car park.