Body and Mind Ch. 05

May 1, 2024 // By:analsex // No Comment

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It’s been 11 years since I last added any ‘chapters’ (if you can glorify them to that) of the cheap, trashy, rushed, debased, artless, and porn-y smut stories I’ve liked uploading to this website in the past. Despite receiving positive feedback from people and requests for more (you deviants), I really struggle to feel satisfied with the quality of anything I’ve come up with (apparently I do have standards), so I have left a dozen half written ideas on ice for a decade. Which brings me to today; I don’t know which one of you freaks found a cursed monkey paw and wished I had the motivation to add another half-baked chapter of this absurd and macabre garbage, but the COVID-19 virus has me stuck at home unemployed and isolated, so here we are. Nothing but time. Enjoy I guess? To everyone else, I’m sorry!

Full disclaimer; I have not been able to bring myself to review any of my earlier ‘chapters’ as the low quality bothers me tremendously, and I have no way of editing it. It’s actually one of the reasons I stopped the series. Because of this I’m flying by memory of what I wrote previously and I promise you, I will absolutely have large continuity errors. If any of Part V doesn’t make sense from previous chapters, I’m going to have to hope you’ll forgive, and just roll with it.


Worn out both physically and mentally from her ordeal, Veronica was so relieved to have a comfortable bed to lie on that tears sprang to her eyes. She was starting to feel like some kind of twisted Alice falling down a sordid rabbit hole, except the prospect of ever returning to the surface had now all but diminished completely. Exhausted, she lay down on the soft and clean linen of her bed, and fanned her palms flat against the soft cotton linen, a stark contrast to the feel of hot suffocating latex, or the tension of having her fists balled while she endured the agony of her transformation.

Closing her eyes she could feel herself rapidly slipping into unconsciousness. The option of having more food, or the mention of the hot bath seemed to pale to the chance for some normal sleep. Finding the will the lift the covers of the blankets and crawl under the heavy covers, Veronica settled down and was soon asleep.


Underwater. Or something thinner than water. Veronica wasn’t sure. All she knew was she was in the middle of it, an inky darkness all around her in every direction. Floating.. no.. suspended in it. She could see herself there somehow, waving her arms though the space between her and the abyss, but there was nothing to gain purchase on, so there she remained, unmoving. Still. Silent. Her long hair drifted weightlessly around her, almost as if it possessed its own sentience, dancing and waving to a silent hymn. As Veronica became more aware of the movement, her head of long thick red hair seemed to take encouragement, picking up pace, becoming wilder and more erratic. Now impossible ignore, she reached out to grab onto the flailing strands in an attempt to calm them, but like a combative child in the throes of a tantrum, resistance was returned. Veronica cried out in a panic, grabbing fist fulls of of her untamed hair in her hands, clenching it in fists. Now it was on. Combat. Howling, as she was whipped, flayed by the furious mane, morphing more into some kind of savage cat-o-nine tails crown. Veronica screamed into the darkness as the tendrils wrapped around her wrists, pulling her arms apart over her head, her own body turning on her, punishing her for resistance. Letting out a howling of defeat, the inky abyss shimmered and solidified around her, surrounding her in a black mirror in which to look upon herself, and a moment again for stillness. Silence again. Sobbing in her glassy black prison, her arms still tightly held apart, she could see she had been wearing the dress she was supposed to be wed in, now stained red with the wounds sustained from her fight. The sound of bells began to build from below, quiet at first, but growing in volume exponentially. Falling…? Yes, she was falling now.. the sickening feeling of her stomach wanting to leave her body was overwhelming. ‘This is it’ she thought. Scrunching her eyes closed, she clenches her jaw, and braces for impact.


The sound of church-bells phased into the chiming sound of an alarm, and Veronicas mind found itself back in reality as the nightmare already began to fade. Pushing herself upright, and Pendik Olgun Escort reaching for the snooze button, Veronica rubbed her eyes, and gave a groan. The heavy door knocker though her nose swung into her open mouth, causing her to bite down on it in surprise. The tug in her tender nose caused tears to spring from her eyes, and Veronica made a mental note to herself not to do it again. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, a dull ache between her legs reminded her of the other things that had been done, and upon inspection she counted the ten small rings in her outer labia. Although they weren’t particularly thick or heavy, she couldn’t find an opening on any of them, and concluded that they were also a permanent addition to her body.

Veronica could smell the eggs and bacon before she saw it, and was quick to get off the bed and sit in front of her cooked meal at her desk. It must have been placed there just before her wake-up call, as it was still steaming. Moving to sit on the simple wood chair at the desk she ate for meat heartily, barely giving herself the change to taste it. It wasn’t till she was finished her last bite that she saw the folded note on the tray. Flipping the thick grade paper open, she took in her handwritten instructions.

‘Enjoy your breakfast;’ it read, ‘If you are hungry for more, simply call the kitchen on your intercom. Feel free to roam the facility by buzzing security. – Frank’

While she was still hungry, Veronica pondered her options. She longed to take a walk, and the offer of going where she pleased seemed almost too good to be true after having been restrained for so long. Thoughts of leaving her room, however, were put behind her thoughts of putting on some clothing. Getting up off her chair, Veronica approached an open armoire near the exit to the room and peered inside. The interior was empty, with the exception of a single red latex micro-skirt, a pair of red PVC ankle-high high-heel boots, and another folded note hung over a coat-hanger. Veronica received the second note of the same paper from her breakfast tray, and read what was within.

‘You have the freedom to dress as you please, however you will not receive your full wardrobe until your piercings and tattoos have properly healed. Please contact administration if you wish to request any particular items of clothing. – Frank’

With a sigh, knowing that little notes were probably going to be a frequent theme for her time here, she begrudgingly took her ‘options’ from the wardrobe and pulled the tight glossy skirt up and onto her hips. As she assessed the fit she could tell the skirt did little to protect her modesty, but something about not being completely nude did feel more comfortable. Moving to her bed to sit she slipped into the brightly polished boots zipping them up to her ankle, and found them to fit her perfectly. Swinging the wooden doors of her armoire shut, she was faced with her reflection in a tall mirror, and gasped at who she saw.

The creature she saw staring back at her stood there appearing as shocked by what it saw as how she herself felt. It was the new her, and she realised she was meeting it for the first time. A flood of the imagery washed over her, causing a momentary wobble on her feet. The person in the mirror was a slave to this place, no matter what freedoms it seemed like she had been granted, and she swallowed heavily past the tightness building in her throat.

The impressive tattoo work on her chest was perhaps the most bold display of her slavery, but staring into the mirror, she found her eyes were constantly drawn to her face and shaved head. Her plum black lips seemed to be the focus point, and timidly opening her mouth she could see just how far back her tongue had been split. Too much for her to come to term with in the moment she quickly pursed her lips, and inhaled sharply through her nose, past the heavy door-knocker hanging from it.

It was several minutes before she could tear herself away from her reflection, and Veronica found her feeling of shock was already being replaced with numbness, or just simple apathy. Perhaps that is what the time she spent in isolation was all for, she considered. A mind-fuck scheme to more quickly help her find acceptance.

Breaking away from the mirror, Veronica turned towards the door to her room, and the intercom on the wall. Figuring that her options were to Pendik Sarışın Escort either explore the facility, mope around her chambers, or staring into the mirror, she decided to go with the choice that offered her the most information on her situation and a chance to really move about for a proper walk.

Her heels shakily clicking over to the panel by the door she examined the intercom and saw that there were several buttons, each accompanied with it’s own name etched into the metal. Tracing her finger past options labeled ‘Reception’ and ‘Kitchen’, she stopped on the button marked ‘Exit’ and depressed it. A faint buzz could be heard from the other side of the door, followed shortly by the clack of a key turning in an antique lock. The door slowly swung inwards, and nervously, she poked her head out to scout the dimly lit hallway.

Standing against the wall outside her door she was surprised to see the black gloss figure of a latex-clad, hooded woman. Although she had no idea how long this woman had been stationed outside her chambers, the slave was standing straight at full attention. Most of her body was encased in the latex suit with the exception of her mouth and her vulva, exposed from the open zipper of her groin. A length of chain was attached to the ring piercing her clitoral hood, the other end of which was knotted to a heavy looking key still seated within the lock of the door.

Stepping out, the click of Veronicas heels echoed down the corridors as she exited her room timidly, a shiver of self consciousness shimmering over her mostly naked body. As if responding to the sound of Veronicas heels the slave girl tugged on the chain of the key, pulling the door closed and then removed the key from the lock allowing it dangle once more between her legs. On queue before Veronica could ask a question the ‘door-maid’ opened her mouth as widely as she could and extending her tongue. A tightly folded square of leather parchment was revealed to be fastened to to it with a piercing barbell. Once free of her mouth it easily unfurled, revealing a simple message burnt into the leather with what might have been a soldering iron.

‘Left – bath house; Right – workshop’

Stunned for a moment by the surreal scene before her Veronica blinked her eyes in a flutter, and quietly murmured a croaky ‘thank you’ to the mute sentinel. Both lengths of the corridor appeared identical to each other, the ends of either end obscured from view by the gentle curve that each direction took. ‘This underground floor must be a large ring’, she reasoned to herself, in an attempt to understand her bearings. Her attention returning to the destinations on offer, Veronica decided if a bath house was what she hoped it might be, she would gladly like to bathe and feel something other than bodily fluids dripping from the surface of her skin. Turning to the left, the clicks of her heels echoed around her as she set off to explore her favored option. Turning back back as she wobbled down the concrete hall Veronica watched her door-maid try her best to draw her tongue back into her mouth, more than half of the leather scrap still protruding from between her red lips.

The curved passage give Veronica a chill as she walked carefully past other unmarked iron doors identical to her own, and soon the door-maid was out of her line of sight. Despite her efforts to observe unique features to offer her bearings she was unable to find anything, quickly giving this ‘in-between-space’ a disorientating and hellish ‘clinical’ feel. After several minutes of walking the length of the unsettling corridor, the only hint of life in the place being the sound of her own footsteps echoing around her, the end of the hallway appeared around the slow bend. As she approached the dead-end Veronica began to wonder if she had missed a door she was supposed to have taken, but upon reaching the wall she noticed an ambient glow of light running from the corner of the ceiling down to the floor.

Upon closer inspection of the curious illumination she could see that the entire wall opened outwards, and had been left slightly ajar. Cautiously reaching out with a push from the palm of her hand on the surface of the cold concrete the entire wall swung open easily enough for her to slip inside. Once past the threshold, she pushed the wall back into place before turning to look at where the hidden doorway had brought Pendik Şişman Escort her. Her eyes immediately widened, as if to fully receive the display before her.

Veronica found herself standing in the corner of an enormous domed-ceiling chamber supported by mosaic tiled columns. The centre of the room contained a large and shallow communal pool, populated by what looked to be roughly twenty-or-so individuals of mixed genders, races, and sizes, all nude save for different coloured collars around their necks. Other than the misty haze of steam which filled the air like a slumbering giant, the room was very well lit from the dome above, which appeared to by made of stained glass. This, in contrast with the anxiety inducing hall she had just exited, seemed to be a serine place.

Indeed the other occupants of the room appeared to be quietly socialising among each other in groups of four or five as they soaked in the water, or sat on the mosaic tiled floor. Stepping further into the room, Veronica noticed that not all the occupants within were nude and relaxing. Indeed, standing in separate quadrants of the open space she counted four motionless figures dressed smartly in what looked to be black Italian suits.

Of the three suited figures, two had their identities obscured by expressionless white masks, now giving the scene an eerie feel that make her involuntarily shudder. The unmasked figure in the room who had been slowly patrolling between the edge of the pool and the columns was a wide muscular man with a shaved head, and dark seemingly impenetrable skin. A dense but well manicured black mustache ran over his heavy face, and down to the sides of his mouth.

Veronicas intrusion into the chamber did not go unnoticed for long however, and a loud snap from one of the masked figures fingers sounded across the room like a firecracker. Turning to the figure she could see the hollow cavities in the mask where eyes should be were fixed upon her. The quiet chatter and conversation immediately dropped into silence, the only sound to be heard was the delicate movement of hot water, lapping at the walls of the pool. All eyes now turned to her as she stood caught, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment mixed with terror run across her cheeks. An eternity seemed to pass for Veronica in that moment before the unmasked suit rose his hand and snapped his fingers twice in succession.

The response from the room was immediate as the collared bathers hastily turned their gaze from their unexpected guest visitor, and exited the bath obediently forming two straight lines. Another single snap of his fingers and Veronica, still burning red and standing behind the pillar, watched as both groups peeled off from each other towards separate exits. The two masks on both sides of the room then joined the back of each line collars, escorting them out of the room and closing the doors behind them, leaving her alone on the opposite side of the pool of the unmasked suit.

“Come out here,” the suit instructed her, plainly. His voice was level, measured, but firm. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Veronica stepped out from behind the pillar, and moved into the open light, revealing herself to him from across the bath.

“I’ve been told about you.” he informed her as he moved closer to the edge of the water, looking her up and down slowly. “Christ,” he muttered, as he ran one of his large, brawler hands over his mustache in idle contemplation.

Veronica shifted a little on her feet, stomach knotted, certain that she could feel the physical sensation of his eyes slowly trailing over her body. Looking back as much as she dared, his expression own offered her no clues on where his mind was going. At last, breaking his gaze, he turned from the edge of the bath, and shook his head, pacing slowly.

“It’s my job here to make sure that rules are followed,” he explained in his seemingly clear and direct tone, “but there has been a lot of exceptions to the rules for you.”

Not understanding her place here but desperate to find out, Veronica searched inside herself to find where the voice she knew she had was hiding. With considerable strain, Veronica lifted it up and into the light.

“Can I be here..?” she asked, the sound of her speech foreign in her own ears.

The suit let out an involuntary grunt, and shrugged.

“You’re part of the facility. Go where you want.” he replied. “Fuck,” he muttered “who am I to argue with the ‘Avatar’?” he asked rhetorically, as he turned and walked to one of the exits. Opening the door, he turned back once more. “If you need to find me, ask for Mendel” he muttered, stepping out, leaving Veronica standing alone again.

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