Descent Into Darkness (6 page)

CHAPTER X - A Democratic Choice

The throbbing of
passing traffic. The scream of a child. The laughter of a gaggle of teens. All permeated Katarina’s fitful sleep, embellishing her dreams of control, domination, incarceration and downfall. She dreamt she had been taken during her shoot, bound inescapably, abducted and toyed with. Part nightmare, part fantasy, Katarina wasn't entirely sure which as her mind started to reconnect to reality and awaken.

A wake up routine, Katarina first tried to stretch her arms, only to get no response. She flexed her neck to find it held rigid, pointed her toes but they were already en pointe. It registered only as a fuzzy ‘not right’.

The deep male voice boomed in her ear, snapping her immediately into full but confused consciousness. “Awaken slave.” Katarina’s eyes shot wide. Those dreams, those nightmares, all actually replayed memories and as her body woke and demanded increased oxygen, the embrace of the corset still demanded a focussed effort to breath.

It was the bizarre vision through the pinholes in her mask that truly shocked her though. She could see outside. A busy street scene played out before her. Children strained at the hands of parents. People bustled by, huddled against what must be an autumnal cold. All so normal, except for the occasional passer-by who stole a furtive glance in her direction.

They could
see
her and the thought made her flush red beneath the smiling representation that was the mask. She knew what she must appear like in this main street shop window. Katarina was a mannequin of herself, held fast for display to the world.

Normality had long gone but one thing still struck her as unexpected. She had been given back her hearing but why? That was soon answered as Katarina bathed in the luxury of the sounds of the street. A middle aged mother hurried past, dragging her family in tow as she chastised her kowtowed husband for 'ogling the window full of whores'.

At the very bottom of her tiny field of vision Katarina could see her own image on a screen. It had clearly been carefully placed so only she could see it, attached as it was to the back of one of the mannequins. It explained the reaction of the mother.

Under normal circumstances, Katarina would have glanced with contempt at the woman’s blandness, her lack of any real effort. Now though the woman represented normal and normal was Katarina’s need.

She’d wanted to be different, wanted to stand out. That had led her here. She would’ve laughed at the bizarre irony of that thought if it didn’t make her cry. Restrained as she was, she envied the insipid housewife, envied her freedom, envied the control she displayed. Katarina had none. That control had been peeled away, layer by layer, until she was where she was now, nothing more than an object of disgust to berate.

Displayed on screen, other mannequins surrounded her, each posed to perfectly play their part. Some were tied into bizarre bondage contraptions, others were posed as dominants, each waxworks, each unique. A blonde-haired mannequin was strapped to an X-Frame, a redhead standing over her commanding attention. A demure girl knelt at her feet.

Preeminent, a single mannequin stood aloof and authoritative, crop in hand. She was Mistress of them all, surveying the scene, a striking representation of Mistress Raven. Central to the entire scene stood Katarina, a living mannequin trapped beneath a confining latex façade. An anguished young woman hidden beneath her own smiling facsimile.

‘Sub Zero but White Hot’, the sign at Katarina’s feet declared. She had agreed that a little light suggestive bondage might propel her career forward. It would have grabbed that headline but that was back when she had a choice. Now she had none. The headline both mocked and described her, hammering home her new position.

As a pock-marked teen stared hungrily at her, another tear squeezed out behind her smiling mask. The teen’s eyes fixated on Katarina as if boring into her as his girlfriend joined him and snaked an arm around his waist. “She's hot,” she toned, displaying a wayward education while a wink held unspoken promises to her boyfriend. Reaching out toward the side of the window display, she punched an unseen button. Katarina's eyes widened to a torrent of pain which exploded in her crotch.

“
Cool
animatronics.” The geeky teen gleefully watched the mannequin that was Katarina spasm within the restraints. Katarina panted, desperate to suck down air, trying to cope. Text started to scroll on the screen.

'The remote control you saw earlier is fixed to the wall.' The words slid upwards like a teleprompter. ‘As I am both a Lady and a believer in democracy, you will be judged by popular vote.' Katarina's eyes widened still further, continuing to read. 'That experience was the red button, the one saying ‘Beautiful Future Fetish Model’. Congratulations, you just received the first vote in agreement.'

Focussed on the screen, more text edged up. 'If that option has the highest vote, you go free. We support your career. You’ll be famous.’ The thought was left to resonate with a lengthened pause.

‘Of course, if that vote doesn’t win …'

The words stilled. Katarina peered at the screen. Was that it? What would happen then? Her natural optimism raised its head, her spirits starting to revive. Was this then a ploy to get her the coverage she needed?

Katarina willed each passer-by to look. She willed them to cast the vote that would reopen her future. The dowdy woman was back, dragging her family past the window again but this time she paused. Stepping closer, the woman pushed a green button with a sneer. Vibrations shot into Katarina's crotch, causing her to jerk in her bonds.

Oh God no, they couldn't, could they? Katarina forced her eyes open to read more text that was appearing on the screen. 'The green button says ‘Pretty Whore and No More’.’ Katarina started to whimper as the text progressed. 'A majority of greens, you continue a slave. If voted a whore, there will of course be punishments.’

She had no way to win. She craved the career dependent on the red button yet feared frying from the shocks. Green equalled pleasure but would see her labelled as a whore and punished. It was a kind of Pavlovian theory and it tore her in two.

A metallic voice accompanied each vote, reading out the label, drilling each opinion into her head. ‘Beautiful Future Fetish Model’ engulfed her loins in pain. ‘Pretty Whore and No More’ buzzed a sweet pleasure, but never quite enough.

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes into hours. The constant conditioning from each vote gradually ground down her resistance. As the day crept forward, Katarina found herself increasingly craving more votes for green. She slowly began to resent the intermittent votes for ‘Beautiful Future Fetish Model’. They curtailed the vibrations, shocking her instead. By afternoon, her body was starting to clamour for climax. Promises of pleasure were consistently broken. Her independent mind slowly started to yield and absorb the lessons exactly as her Mistress had planned.

Whore? Good. Model? Bad. The lessons were simple and inescapable. Somehow they seemed to make sense now. She needed it, needed more green, needed to be thought a whore.

CHAPTER XI - A Model Career

Slowly
the number of people passing Katarina’s window dwindled as the shadows lengthened in the October sun's waning light. Pleasure and pain had assaulted her constantly throughout the day. They had nibbled at her mind until she hoped that each voter would view her as a pretty whore.

The bands around her legs bit hard, reliant as she was on the titanium frame to hold her up to try to relieve her tortured toes. Her internal organs had settled to the corset, adjusting to the enforced repositioning. That was some crumb of comfort at least. Her arms? Well, she just assumed she still had them.

Katarina was tired, oh so tired. Her stamina had been sucked dry. After the loss of her dear father she had worked out in a frenzy, welcoming physical pain to replace the mental. This was worse than those gym visits though, much worse.

She'd initially tried to count each vote in an attempt to ground her sanity in some vague form of reality but the constant swing from sweet pleasure to searing pain had already numbed her thoughts. Two hundred she guessed for each side. Her count was at least two hundred votes short of the real totals though.

The counter only told of the difference in the voting and it showed a close vote so far. It showed that, on balance, a majority saw a beautiful fetish model but now the thought sat uncomfortably with her. Twenty it said. Twenty more people saw a career, not a whore. Each associated explosion of pain had muddied her mind and she wanted more pleasure. More green. More whore.

A familiar face drew Katarina’s attention away from the counter. Her cute jailer had appeared in front of the window, arms folded, smiling that smile, looking proudly at the display. Eyes on the voting box she paused, looking first to Katarina then back to the box, toying with a dilemma.

“I really don't want to hurt you sweetie.” The microphones picked up her voice and transmitted it to Katarina's ears. “But I want to help you to be free.” With that Mela punched the red button. Katarina's crotch melted in pain. The metallic voice told her of the vote. The counter ticked to twenty one and a countdown to the closure of voting appeared next to it for the first time.

Five minutes it told her. But five minutes to what? Katarina’s scrambled senses started to reform after her shocks. She couldn’t trust the others but this girl was different and she was helping her toward freedom. The voting had been brisk but fairly balanced. There was no way it would be overturned in that time. The girl would help her regardless. Freedom it would be then.

Yes. Freedom. Katarina allowed that thought to solidify. It was a conservative part of town but she'd won this one fair and square. There were clearly more deviants out there than
they
thought and the humour in that gave a warmth.

She'd come back. She'd help the cute girl with her own freedom too. She’d found a friend in the darkness and wouldn’t abandon her. Katarina’s future was clear. She now had purpose once again. Ideas formed. Thoughts of future payback, of revenge.

Distracted, she missed the slow steady click of stilettos of another voter approaching. A sudden gasp outside snapped Katarina back to the present and what was unfolding outside. The cute girl's face had contorted, her head held back by the hair. She clawed at the grip of her captor, desperate for release and as Katarina's eyes traced along the leather clad arm, they finally came to rest of the face of Mistress Raven.

Head to toe in gleaming black leather, she was a vision of sophisticated power. Katarina was stunned. The woman was clenching a clump of Mela’s hair to hold her off to one side. Subtly, she shifted her weight from one hip to the other in a classic pose of dominance that briefly parted her ankle length leather trench coat to flash more leather beneath.

She rocked her ankle on the sharp stiletto of her left boot, the sun's reflection deliberately swept across Katarina's eyes off the buckle on the side. It gave the expensive design a look of dangerous dominance embellishing the finest buttery soft leather. From the top of her boot, a sculpted thigh rose, slender beneath her silken stocking until enveloped again by the leather of her coat.

“I see my toy here has dressed you well, slave.” The woman’s imperious tone echoed through Katarina's earphones. “Though it seems that I still have some problems with her.”

The woman twisted the girl by the hair and threw her into the waiting arms of the two other women with her, one redhead, one blonde. They engulfed the cute girl in a maelstrom of activity. The girl struggled, fought hard, knowing the punishment she would certainly receive. The grip though stayed tight.

Bound arms and ball gag, Katarina’s would-be salvation had gone. She sucked, lapping the huge cock in her mouth, extracting what comfort it would bring.

“Yes girl, familiarise yourself with that cock. It’s a likeness of the Master you will be returned to once I break you. Explore it. Take comfort from it. Savour the reward it gives.”

With a smile of pure satisfaction the woman stepped forward. “Well, well. It would appear I underestimated the kinkiness of this part of town. We just can't have that, can we now?” A statement, more than a question, her leather-gloved finger pressed a button. Vibrations buzzed around Katarina's crotch. “I prefer you as a whore.”

The woman repeated her vote, pressing again, increasing the vibrations. Katarina felt an increased reward from her Mistress who leant back to watch the reaction. The dramatic slash of rouge etched across her lips broke into a smile as her prey bucked, reluctantly enjoying the sensations surrounding her sex.

Black hair scraped harshly back, Raven’s ponytail slid around her neck as she leant toward the window once again. A second vote. A third. A fourth, rigging the vote, rigging her future. The timer ticked towards zero. The balance edged remorselessly down. The constant vibration in Katarina's crotch was compounding. She was approaching a point not reachable before and the metallic, female voice chimed its mantra, “Pretty Whore and No More. Pretty Whore and No More ..."

The timer was running out. Her legs were quivering. The counter clicked to zero. The sensations didn’t stop. The screen flashed the result. The vibrations still soared higher. Her loins started to fire. The metallic voice blared. She sucked on the phallus. The words grew on the screen. Her body shook. ‘Whore’ flashed in green. Katarina bit down. Her Mistress commanded, “Do it. Do it for me.”

Overwhelmed, Katarina came.