The room is cold, dark, and empty. Dark, except for an area lit by a single floodlight, and empty, except for a single piece of furniture. But not the type of furniture that you or I have in our houses.

Caught in the glare of the bright light is what at first sight looks like a small crucifix, with two padded boards forming a crude seat. It is difficult to see the piece of furniture clearly for it is occupied.

A figure, clad from head to toe in shiny black latex is sitting on the padded portion. Sitting, but - well – not actually sitting as we would sit on a couch. It would be most unusual to sit on a couch in the same manner as the figure sits on the furniture in this room.

As our eyes get accustomed to the bright light, we can now see that the figure is actually a female. The body shape is definitely female, although a latex hood covers the head. The hood is inflatable; two nozzles stick out, one from the top and one from her mouth. The top nozzle has a tube running from it to a rubber bulb. The hood has been pumped up until it is almost spherical. The other nozzle forms the exterior of an internal gag.

Her arms are outstretched on either side of her body, in a pose similar to that seen in countless churches around the world. Except that in this instance the arms are held to the cross by a crisscrossing of saran wrap and duct tape. The cocooning seems severe, as the flesh bulges out in places where the wrapping does not entirely cover the arms.

As we draw closer to the cross, we see more details. The woman is dressed in a skintight latex catsuit that totally covers her body. No! Wait. Not quite covers her body. The two padded boards forming the chair part of the cross are set in to the back vertical part of the cross at an angle, causing the female’s thighs to be spread apart.

The seat does not support her crotch, and we can see that the catsuit has a zipper that runs from her neck, all the way down the front of the suit, disappearing from view up her back.

The zipper on this suit has been opened from the rear, up to her pelvis, revealing a triangle of white, shaved, flesh. The figure is definitely a woman, as her labia are visible, the outer labia pierced by six metal rings, three each side, spaced along each labia. The labia are drawn down towards the floor by weights that hang from her piercings.

The weights sway gently as the woman stirs in her bondage, seeking to relieve the pressure on her limbs and her ass. A small bead of moisture is visible on one of the labia lips. Is she excited by her predicament?

The woman’s head turns to the side, like a bird hearing a sound. Perhaps she has heard us enter the room? Unlikely, for the latex hood looks heavy, and there are no visible openings. As she turns her head again, we see that the hood has a locking buckle on the collar strap. Even if her hands were free, the woman would not be able to remove the hood.

‘What do you think?’ The vendor is keen to get my opinion about the merchandise.

I put a finger to my lips, requesting silence. Reaching out, I grasp the rubber bulb in my hand and squeeze it several times until I hear a groan. More pumping is followed by further groans that increase in volume as the hood dilates further.

Pulling off the tubing from the top nozzle, I reattach it to the mouthpiece and recommence pumping. The groaning fades into silence as the gag in the woman’s mouth inflates further, preventing any sound.

My hands move to the woman’s breasts and my fingers seek out and tightly grip each of her erect nipples. I roll each nipple between finger and thumb, causing them to harden further. Reaching for a thin cane I apply five strokes to each breast, watching her strain in her bonds as she seeks to thrust her body forward. Not a typical response to being caned.

Her breathing has quickened and each breath whistles out of the small mouthpiece. Further strokes of the cane elicit more squirming but no sounds from the hooded and gagged woman.

I run a finger between her labia and detect wetness. Again, not the response one would normally expect from a hooded, gagged, and bound woman. I reach for a large rubber dildo and push it up between her labia. This device is also inflatable and several pumps on its attached bulb serve to anchor it securely within the woman. Further pumps serve no purpose other than to satisfy my sadistic streak. I watch as the woman squirms in her bondage.

‘I’ll take her at the agreed price. Have her ready for shipping tomorrow afternoon. The shipping crate will be with you by 10 am.’

We shake hands and the vendor smiles broadly. It is not every day that he earns £50,000 for so little work. Without a backward glance I exit the room. The light is turned off and Jezabelle is left alone once more in her dark bondage to reflect on the fragments of conversation she heard. It would be many hours before Jezabelle saw the light of day once more.