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"Stand up for us, dear," Beatrice said.
Monique slowly stood, modestly covering herself. She stared into the dimness that nearly hid Beatrice from her, wondering and fearing what the woman might demand of her.
"There is no need for modesty, girl. You are beautiful. Besides, I wish to see you more clearly," Beatrice told her. "Now, put your hands behind your back. Grab your elbows with each hand. I want to see you."
Hesitantly, she obeyed, tears beginning to cloud her vision. Goose bumps covered the girl's pale skin, and she began shaking despite the study's even temperature.
"You need to react faster, Monique," Beatrice chided. "Now, slowly turn around. We don't want anyone to miss out on your charms."
Monique obeyed, shaking miserably.
"What size bra do you wear, Monique?" Beatrice asked as the girl finished her turn.
Stammering, the girl answered, "I wear a thirty-four 'C'.
"My dear, you will have to learn to answer better than that if you don't want to avoid becoming a new attraction in Francis' museum. Now, try that answer again. This time, I expect you to show me the proper respect."
Fighting back tears, the girl answered, "I wear a thirty-four 'C', Ma'am."
"Excellent," Beatrice said. "How old are you?"
"I just turned twenty-one, Ma'am."
"How many boyfriends have you had?"
"Just three, Ma'am."
Have you fucked them all?"
"No, Ma'am."
"How many have you fucked?"
"Just the one I am with now, Ma'am."
Beatrice eyed her for a few moments, enjoying the girl's state. Shaking and shivering, Monique was nearing the moment when she would break. Sensing this, Beatrice pushed on.
"Your breasts are lovely. Very well shaped. Does your boyfriend ever fuck them?" Beatrice asked. "Have you ever been tit-fucked?"
"No, Ma'am," Monique answered, her head dropping as tears found their way down her cheeks.
"Why not? They are lovely. Any man would love to fuck those pretty little tits."
"They aren't big enough, ma'am," Monique admitted, knowing how Beatrice would counter.
"Well, that is one knock against you," Beatrice said, teasing her heartlessly. "You will need bigger tits if you are to be a proper slave, won't you?"
Head down and tears streaming she nodded her head. Then, in a wispy voice, tinged with pain, she said "Yes, ma'am."
"I assume you have sucked cock a few times," Beatrice prodded. "Are you a good cock sucker?"
Monique flung her head side to side, whipping her long dark hair about. "Why are you doing this to me? Why don't you leave me alone?"
"Well, that about settles it, doesn't it?" Beatrice chuckled.
Eyes suddenly wide, Monique lifted her head. "I'm a good cock sucker, ma'am. I love sucking cock. I love eating cum. Please…"
"I don't know. I am not fond of back talk, Monique," Beatrice said, her voice filled with feigned disappointment. "Well, have you sucked a lot of cock?"
"Not a lot, but my boyfriend tells me I am good. He loves when I suck his cock," she said, her voice filled with desperation.
"Hmm, perhaps you would like to show us how good a cock sucker you are. Ted looks like he could use his cock sucked," Beatrice said. "Go give Ted a good cock sucking."
Monique looked around the room, desperately trying to remember where Ted was, unable to see him. She looked back at Beatrice, eyes filled with desperation. "I don't know where Ted is, ma'am."
"Find him."
Stepping into the shadows, she turned and eyed each of the guests, trying to remember which one was Ted. "Ma'am, I…I can't find…I don't know."
"Yes, you don't remember who Ted is, despite the introduction you received. This is not a good start," Beatrice warned. "Get back under the light."
New tears filled Monique's eyes obeyed her tormentors command, her hopes diminishing.
"Have you ever been fucked up the ass, Monique?" Beatrice asked.
"No, ma'am."
"Has anyone tried to fuck your ass?"
"Yes, ma'am. My boyfriend tried."
"Why didn't he succeed?"
"I told him to stop, ma'am."
"Hmm, perhaps we should take a vote. What do you say, Francis, can we vote whether to make her a slave or fountain?" asked Beatrice. "I think it's the only fair thing to do."
"I've no objections, Beatrice. I do respect all of your opinions," Francis said, amused at Beatrice's tortures.
"If we decide she should be a slave, will you abide by the vote?"
"I will."
"If we decide she should be a fountain, will you abide by that too?"
"I will."
"Well then," Beatrice continued, "it seems we are at a cross road. Is there anything you would like to say, Monique?"
Her arms still locked behind her, Monique spun about, frantically searching for what she might say. Then, all at once, she blurted, "If you make me a slave I promise to serve as good as any slave ever has. I will suck your cock all day and night if you want me to. Really, I won't complain! You can fuck me in the ass or my pussy. You can fuck my tits or do whatever you want. I'll be a good slave! Just please don't turn me into a fountain."
"Bend over, Monique," Mia told the girl. Turn that ass towards me and pull it apart."
Quickly, and with more tears welling in her eyes, Monique obeyed.
"Stick a finger in that ass - deep in that ass - then tell me how it tastes," Mia commanded.
Disgusted as she was, Monique hardly hesitated, pushing a finger deep in her hole and then bringing it to her mouth. "It doesn't taste like anything, ma'am."
"Fountain," Mia said. "I think she would be a better fountain than a slave."
"No, please!" Monique burst out. "I can be a good slave.
"Fountain," She heard a male voice speak.
"No!"
"Fountain," came another vote.
Spinning round to meet each voice as they cast their votes of "Fountain," Monique begged, hoping for a miracle. She received none. Finally, as the last vote of "Fountain" died down, she fell to the floor to sob uncontrollably.
"The votes are in," she heard Beatrice say. "Make her a fountain."
A jerk from the girl on the wall drew the attention of the entire room. She gasped and moaned as electricity coursed through her body, making her back arch and her muscles bulge. The mark of pain covered her face, her skin growing red and her fingers curling. She inhaled suddenly, whispering a pained cry.
"No," the Monique whispered, her attention being drawn to the girl on the wall.
The web spreading out from the girl shook with her strains, waves radiating outward, again and again. More whispered cries and whimpers of pain came from the tortured girl.
Unable to tear her eyes from the horror before her, Monique sunk to the furthermost edge of the bright light. Clutching her arms to her breasts, she found her strength evaporate to leave her seated on the rich carpet below her. Eyes wide, she stared as the girl's muscles grew ever more taut, exposing the striations of the muscles beneath her skin.
"No. God, no," Monique whispered. "Please, no."
At long last, and just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The girl on the web hung limply, exhausted and covered in sweat. Monique, for all that she had just witnessed, was left staring blankly, refusing to believe what she had just witnessed.
"Get the case, Desk," Francis ordered.
Immediately, Desk brought a leather case into the circle of light. Unzipping it, she held her hand to Monique, motioning her to take it. "Stand up," Desk said softly. "Step inside and lay down on your side, pull your legs to your chest."
Overwhelmed by shock and confusion, and still staring at the recently electrified girl, Monique followed Desk's directions.
"Please don't," came a whispered plea. Moments later, her ankles and wrists were secured to opposing corners of the heavy leather case.
"Please," Monique whispered, turning her sad and tear filled eyes towards the darkness that hid Francis' face.
Carefully, Desk zipped the case close. All watched as Monique's wide eyes disappeared within the case.
"Please, you can't do this to
me," came a muffled plea.
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