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No tranquilizer could
completely block the fear that mounted in the pretty, bound girl as inch after
inch of the needle and shiny steel syringe disappeared into her gaping
mouth. Her tormentor felt her quivering,
and quietly sought to calm her.
"Easy, relax... It's very important that I locate the injections
precisely."
The point of the needle
must be a foot past her lips, the girl thought as she closed her eyes, unable
to watch any more. Was he going to reach
directly into her stomach? Then she felt
a jab in her throat, followed by a brief burning sensation as the botox was
injected. The burning faded quickly to
numbness as the toxin acted on the local nerves. She felt the point withdraw, and then the
series of sensations was repeated in a different spot, then another, as the
doctor worked his way from deep in her throat back up toward her mouth.
"What I'm doing
now..." the doctor spoke in clipped phrases, in between the
injections. "Is
eliminating.........a most undesireable nervous reaction.......for a girl in
the role you'll soon enjoy.......which is called........the reaction is
called, I should say........the role I've already told you......the
reaction is called.......the gag reflex.
There, that should do it."
He withdrew the syringe and set it on the cart, then returned holding a
telescoping metal probe with a shiny white ball on its end.
"Let's see what we've
got." He extended the probe and
slowly passed the ball into his subject's mouth. She flinched as it pushed past her tonsils
but then - nothing. The rubber ball was
just large enough to fill her throat, gently blocking it, but it produced no
response as it slid slowly back and forth inside her neck. She could feel its presence, except in a few
dead spots, but there was no gagging or choking reaction. Her developer smiled as he withdrew the
probe, and the girl gasped a breath.
"That's good, all done on the first try."
The doctor was in a
chipper mood, clearly pleased with his own skills, and chattered while he
leaned over the cart handling his instruments.
"I've deadened the nerves in your throat that trigger a gagging
reaction when a ... foreign object is inserted.
You'll be much better at some of the most important tasks you'll be
expected to perform in your new role.
The down side to this procedure is that a person would have to chew and
swallow their food more carefully, to avoid choking, but that's not going to be
an issue for you."
This was all about oral
sex, the girl knew - she was not stupid, nor so innocent as to be confused by
the doctor's euphemisms. She was no
slut, but neither was she unfamiliar with the flavor of a penis, or of the
salty spunk that they produced. She
didn't get much direct pleasure out of giving a blowjob, but her boyfriends
always seemed keen on her "hummers" and she revelled in their pleasure
and especially in the approval she received from the kinder of the boys that
she'd dated and serviced that way. She
liked to think she'd become fairly skilled in the act. But the image in her mind now - of a long
hard cock shoved into her propped-open mouth and down her throat, where she'd
just been stripped of her last defenses against the sticky goo it would pump
into her belly - that was a different thing entirely from the scenario she was
accustomed to, where she felt like she was the partner more in control. She thought she should be sick at the vision
that the rubber-ball experiment had provided of her future sexual role. But she was too overwhelmed, by this point in
the session, to muster the appropriate revulsion. She determined to resist the degrading fate
the doctor intended for her, as soon as she had a chance to rest.
"OK, moving right
along....Nurse Twelve, let's get her ready for the facial mapping." Again the weird attendant glided into
view. The nurse's terrifying affect on
the girl was fading - she realized that the poor creature was probably a victim
herself of this "doctor" and his clinic. He spoke to the nurse not like a partner in
his perverted project, but like a slave.
The "nurse" must have been brainwashed, or drugged, or
otherwise programmed to serve silently and efficiently at the clinic. The bound girl suddenly took pity on the
rubber-sheathed attendant, and no longer saw her as an enemy.
The doctor reached up to
his subject's chin and released a catch.
His latex-wrapped fingers grasped her stretched tongue at the tip,
lifted it off the curved stud, and let it drop.
The girl reeled it slowly in - her tongue was still sluggish from the
drugs, and now stiff and sore as well after its enforced extension. As the piercing passed her lower teeth she
felt a click. Rubbing her tongue against
her teeth she felt no projection, just flat metal around the hole. She wasn't sure exactly what a
"grommet" was but it seemed her captor had lined the piercing with
metal. That must be why the bleeding had
stopped so quickly, and why she had not torn her tongue when she'd panicked
earlier, after it had been pinned to her chin.
The doctor spun the knob
that governed her gape until her lips barely touched, then raised her head back
to the horizontal, in line with her torso.
As he did this the nurse swabbed the girl's face with a gauze pad that
smelled of antiseptic. When they were
done the doctor flipped through the aluminum chart case until he found a clear
plastic sheet, a little larger than a standard sheet of paper. As he draped it over her face, the girl saw a
cutout for her nose, and many smaller holes all over the sheet. A few of them
corresponded to pegs on the brackets that grasped her jaws, and the doctor
adjusted the spacing of the clamps until pegs and holes aligned perfectly. He checked that black Xs on the upper part of
the sheet lay directly above the pupils of his subject's brown eyes, and after
wrapping the sheet around the sides of her face, that other marks lined up with
landmarks on her ears. Judging that the
sheet was properly registered, he used segments of surgical tape that the nurse
tore off and handed him to secure it, then checked the registration again. Satisfied, he opened a drawer in the cart and
took out a handful of colored felt-tipped pens.
"Try to keep your
face as quiet and relaxed as possible," he told the girl quietly. "Accuracy here is very important to your
future appearance." The girl felt
far past caring about her appearance.
Did it matter how pretty a sex slave she became? She was close to total exhaustion,
emotionally even more than physically.
But, felt pens were the least frightening instruments she'd been
threatened with since her awakening in this little room so many hours...or was
it days....ago. It was an easy choice to
conserve what energy she had left, maybe even steal a little rest.
The decision to comply was
supported by a second voice in her head, faint and secret and strange. The girl was slightly startled to hear it,
but did not doubt that it was coming from within her, and had always been there
even if she'd never listened to it before.
That hidden part of her believed that, given the options before her, it was
better to be a pretty slave than a disfigured one.
She lay passive and
relaxed, staring through the blurry black Xs at the monitor overhead. The voices of resistance and resignation were
both muted by her profound fatigue. The
doctor began to poke the various felt pens through the holes in the sheet,
covering her face with multi-colored dots.
......................
"Hey, no sleeping
yet!" The bound girl's eyes snapped
open. Had she actually been able to nod
off in the middle of this bright, waking nightmare? She was so tired...
"Twelve, remove the
drape, I think our girl is getting a little too comfortable!" She felt the
miniature blanket drawn away toward her feet.
She was naked again under the lights.
"I'm just finishing
the mapping, then one more procedure before we take a break. There."
After pressing a green felt pen one last time to her face, the doctor
capped it, set it down, and began peeling off the plastic template. "You were very good, and I think the
mapping went very well. That makes the
next phase easier. Oh, I almost
forgot. From here on you get to enjoy
the show!"
He rolled his stool the
short distance to the wall, near the door to the little room. A flipping of switches was heard, and a small
red lamp ignited on the camera mounted on the ceiling, above the bound girl's
face. There was a flash of static on the
monitor, followed by a horrifying image: her own face. The camera was zoomed in close, so she could
only see herself from the neck up. She
had been right about the armature holding her head: except for the shiny band
across her forehead, the support was concealed behind her so that her head
appeared to be floating a few feet above the white floor, her long auburn hair
hanging behind her. The bright steel
arms of the oral restraints entered from either side of the frame, their
fingers reaching between her lightly closed lips and into her mouth. On the steel chin cup that clamped her jaw
tightly to the restraint system, she could see the hook on which her tongue had
been briefly impaled. Her face was
covered with dozens of small green, red, and blue dots; she could make no sense
of the pattern other than that it was symmetrical on both sides of her
face. She looked into her own eyes, red
and swollen beneath knit brows that spoke of her suffering, and her shock at
the sight of herself.
The doctor rolled his
stool back into position alongside her, and pulled the wheeled cart a little
closer. When the girl saw his hands
again, one brandished a small pistol-gripped tool; the other wielded a delicate
plastic syringe from which a short needle projected. "The template helped me locate various
nerve junctions under your skin. But the
marks I've made are only a guide - this tool will stimulate the nerves so I can
locate them precisely. The stimulation
will feel a little strange but it's not painful, and the injections are
pinpricks compared to what you've had already.
So do yourself a favor, just stay relaxed and keep still."
The girl locked eyes with
her mirror image as the doctor moved the "gun" and needle toward her
face. She looked so tired, hurt, and
lost. She just wanted to get this last
procedure over with. It was just an
anti-wrinkle treatment, after all, and the doctor had promised a break
afterwards. And, she realized, she
didn't want to come out of this disfigured any more than necessary. The doctor pressed the little gun against a
green dot low on her forehead, and squeezed.
A tiny buzz, and what felt like a sharp tap. Her brow wiggled, and on the monitor she
watched her eyebrows tug further inwards.
"Yep, right where
it's supposed to be. Be still now and
this should go very easily. That's a good girl."
She stared at the monitor,
and was almost surprised that the pained girl on the screen remained motionless
as the syringe approached the green dot, then pricked the skin. There was the brief, now-familiar burning of
botox, and she watched as the brows on the monitor relaxed slightly. The doctor touched the gun to another dot,
confirmed the presence of another nerve center, and killed it with the
syringe. Again and again he repeated the
procedure, working around the center of the forehead, at a few points near the
temples, then began working down either side of her face. After every three injections, he changed to a
full syringe; the nurse had quietly moved next to the cart to sanitize and
refill them. A few times the nerve
junction was not directly under the dot plotted on her face, and he had to
grope around for it with the stimulator, but he always found the reaction he
sought eventually.
Dazed by exhaustion and
the drugs that flowed through her veins, the captive girl was hypnotized by the
process. As the needles worked their
magic and her furrowed brow was smoothed, she watched as stress, fatigue, and
pain melted away. Her sensations of
physical pain and emotional distress seemed to decrease in response to the
easing of her expression, so powerful was the suggestion of relief conveyed by
the evolving image. Like many young
women she was not very comfident in her appearance, so she was fascinated to
see that under the pattern of dots, as fear and tension departed the face on
the monitor took on a glow of...beauty.
The doctor shifted his
stool to attack some nerves along her lower right jawline. "Very good...you're being very good
dear... Just a few more spots." She
watched as the corner of her lower lip, which had curled back involuntarily
from the cool hard finger of the oral restraint, slowly relaxed and embraced
it. As the doctor rolled around to her
left side, her focus returned to the eyes on the monitor. She saw that the relaxation of her features
continued, glacially, as nerveless muscles gradually released their
tension. The expression that had appeared
peaceful a few minutes ago now looked vacant.
Her euphoric trance began
giving way to uneasiness - the spell was breaking. Hadn't her doctor talked about botox as
primarily a treatment for wrinkles? This
seemed to be much more. How many nerves
had the many injections damaged? She
realized that in her growing concern she felt as though she were wrinkling her
brow - but the empty face on the monitor remained unperturbed. What had he done? She tried, hard, to squint and wrinkle her
nose, but saw only the smallest response at the bridge of the nose, and none
from the eyes. She ordered her eyes to
blink, and was answered with a flutter of eyelashes. She tried to raise her eyebrows and that
worked too, but there was better response from their outer reaches than at the
inner corners.
The doctor, finishing his
work with the last few dots along her left jaw, noticed the experiments his
subject was conducting on her upper face.
"Relax now, you've been so good.....don't make me miss a spot right
here at the end.... You'll have plenty of time to play with your new
face.....botox wrinkle treatments are generally effective for a year or
two....but since we strive to deliver goods....that require the least possible
maintenance....I've given you much stronger doses...and located them precisely
at the proper junctions." Having
completed the last injections he straightened on his stool, and looked down at
his handiwork. "Given the typical
lifespan for pleasure companions, this treatment is effectively permanent."
Eyes that belonged to a
bright, mildly insecure, and horrified student-athlete stared up at an image
that was barely familiar. The girl who
stared back from the video screen was calm, carefree, and....vapid.
Even at rest, sinews in
her cheeks that had been left intact put gentle tension on her lips. Unopposed by the now paralyzed muscles along
the lower jaw, they tugged the corners of her mouth slightly upwards, around
the metal fingers of the oral clamps. In
the hard steel grip of its fearsome restraints, the pretty, pleasant face was smiling.
[...]
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