Author's note: Well, what is it that they say? "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"? I don't know about that, but here's what's up. Those of you reading "A Long Weekend" know that my pc crashed, losing the next 5 chapters. I thought I'd burned a cd for "1st and Goal", but can't find it.

Rather than moping around or trying to re-construct 1st & G, I'm pressing forward. Here's something new. The first 8 of probably 14 chapters are complete. If you like, feel free to post a comment or contact me at tymgoode69@yahoo.com Thanks and Good Health, Ty.


Part 1

Lila Powell screamed, her face turning scarlet with the effort.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! I'LL KILL YOU ALL IF YOU DON'T LET ME OUTTA HERE! MOTHERFUCKERZZZZ!"

Lila lapsed into a fit of sobs, repeating the profanity over and over. She tugged at the tanned leather hospital restraints that held her to the bed. Her petite frame was no match for the cuffs that held her wrists and ankles to the side rail of the bed, nor the straps holding her down at shoulders, stomach and knees. An IV bottle hung nearby, replenishing nutrients. The lawyer had been told that she'd refused to eat.

The court appointed attorney winced at the display of rage he was witnessing on the other side of the mirrored glass. This was not the same confident, yet scared young woman he'd first met.

He'd been assigned Lila's case through the Public Defender's pool. He had thought that, for once, the case would be a simple one. A young woman from out of town, mistakenly picked up on charges of soliciting. The interview had gone smoothly, Lila explaining that she was just passing through on her way to the coast. She was hoping to get a job in Atlantic City as a cocktail waitress or card dealer. Lord knew, thought the lawyer, she sure had the body for it.

Her light brown hair had had a naturally soft wave, falling down to her shoulders. The attorney had noticed immediately upon entering the observation cubicle, that it was now shorn short, in a boyish style cut. He'd been told that it was for safety and sanitation purposes. Not to worry, she'd be free to grow it any length she wished, once the determination had been made that she was no longer a threat to herself or others.

Never flattering, the hospital gown rolled over the swell of her bust. Her slender waist and full hips were a little harder to make out under the lightweight cotton, but didn't obliterate her figure entirely. The hem of the gown ended at her knees, revealing her firm calves and delicate feet.

Her face was just as pretty as when he'd first seen her, even with her make-up removed. Her Blue/Green eyes were currently somewhat dulled, but still striking. High cheekbones straddled a long, elegant nose on a slightly oval face. Her lips were full, but not cosmetically so. Her chin was strong, almost to the point of being square. The attorney had entertained thoughts of asking her out to dinner, after the hearing was over.

Ah, the hearing. What a clusterfuck that had been. She'd been ushered in, wearing the mandatory orange jumpsuit, complete with wrist and ankle manacles. After being seated, he had smiled reassuringly at her and she'd returned the gesture. Then, whilst waiting for her case to come before the judge, the young lady had simply gone bezerk. It had taken three bailiffs to carry her out of the courtroom. The judge had immediately ordered a 72 hour psychiatric evaluation.

This was Lila's third day in Byberry State Mental Hospital, just outside of Philadelphia. And it was quite apparent that her condition hadn't improved at all. The attorney let out a sigh.

"What a shame." He said, turning to the attending physician who'd accompanied him. "She'd seemed like such a nice, levelheaded girl."

"Yes," replied Dr. Rayne Attenburg, "Schizophrenia is like that sometimes. The stress of the trial probably triggered an extraordinarily intense episode."

"She does have her lucid periods," the doctor continued, "but the treatment has only just begun. I'm afraid we're talking months, if not years of therapy, before she learns to manage her condition."

The attorney turned, having to look up at the tall, lab-coated physician standing next to him. "Stunning", barely scratched the surface of the doctor's beauty. Obviously of Aryan or Nordic descent, the woman could have easily graced the cover of any fashion magazine. Yet still, there was something about her that made the lawyer uncomfortable.

Her ice blue eyes seemed to look upon everything with a gaze of contempt. Her blonde, practically white, hair was pulled into a severe bun. And her mannerisms left the public defender thinking that she would have easily fit in, goose-stepping through the halls of Berchtesgaden.

"Definitely not your 'hand holding' type." He'd thought.

"Well," he said clearing his throat, "I'll give the judge my recommendation that she be 401'd to the hospital's care for treatment. Hopefully, with your professional attention, she can go on to live a normal life."

"And I can still try for that dinner date." He thought.

"Not to worry," replied the doctor coolly, "we have proven methods that will insure Miss Powell behaves as a young woman should."

The attorney smiled in a mechanical fashion at the way the doctor had phrased her last statement. But he thought no more of it, eager to get out of this depressing place and into a chilled martini. He bid his farewells, insisting he find his own way out. Dr. Attenburg followed him long enough to make sure he didn't wander anywhere he shouldn't, then returned to Lila's room. On her way, she was joined by Carl, who was the chief orderly (amongst other titles).

"No problems then, ma'am?" Carl asked. He knew there wouldn't be, they'd done this before.

"No," Rayne replied, removing the IV from Lila's arm, "the little slut played her part beautifully. Then again, the little "cocktail" we gave her didn't leave her much choice. You may satisfy yourself before returning her to her cell."

"Thank you, ma'am." Carl replied with a sinister grin.

Believing 'foreplay' belonged on the golf course, Carl grabbed the neck of the hospital gown and ripped it off the patient's body. The attorney would have been shocked to see that Lila was naked underneath. Well, perhaps not by the nudity, but certainly by the road map of livid, scarlet lines marring her smooth skin.

They were everywhere the gown had covered, from collarbone to knees. The densest concentration were at her breasts, pelvis and inner thighs. Lila's skin was not broken, nor the wounds excessively puffy, testament to the skill in which the lashes had been administered. Yet still, each strike of the switch had been excruciating.

With the IV removed, the drugs she'd been given metabolized rapidly. Lila's eyes began to clear, just as Carl dropped his surgical scrubs and climbed up on the gurney.

"No!" She whispered weakly, when she saw his pulsing erection.

"NO!" She cried once more, gaining her strength.

Carl reached down to a canvas bag hanging from the side of the bed. He pulled out a tanned leather object. Holding it in his right hand, he used his left to cover Lila's mouth and pinch her nose shut. The beauty bucked and squirmed against the restraints, her oxygen suddenly cut off. After only a few seconds, she was forced to open her mouth, in an effort to suck in some of the air which leaked around his palm. With practiced ease, Carl shifted his hand, quickly pressing his thumb and forefinger into the girl's cheeks.

With the flesh of her cheeks between her teeth, Lila was unable to bite down. Not the least bit concerned for the patient's comfort, Carl jammed the bulbous portion attached to the inside of the leather object, against Lila's teeth. The firm inner core of the protrusion, pried her mouth open and burrowed inside.

Carl's palm pushed the wide leather gag panel against Lila's face. Designed to accommodate a wearer's open mouth, the oversized restraint cupped her chin and pressed up alarmingly against her nostrils. Stitched between the outer leather layer and the inner neoprene one, was an inch of high density foam rubber. Grasping the rubber bulb dangling from the front of the gag, the orderly rapidly inflated the bladder inside. Just as Lila was regaining her ability for sentient speech, it was robbed from her.

The bladder stretched her jaws until they shrieked, and tickled the back of her throat. The girl gave up her protests and focused on trying not to retch. Carl released the bulb, not bothering with the straps that would pass behind and over the top of her head. The gag wasn't going anywhere and he'd have plenty of time to secure it later. Right now, he had more important things to take care of.

Unbuckling the strap across her knees, he easily countered Lila's feeble struggles to close her legs. Wedging his own knees between hers, he muscled the limbs further apart. Leaning forward, he looked hungrily into the poor Miss Powell's eyes.

Lining himself up, he thrust forward mercilessly. Lila howled at the assault, her dry sheath unprepared. As Carl continued to rut, her body's natural defenses secreted lubricant to spare the delicate flesh. It did nothing however, to soothe the trauma of the rape. The brown haired beauty screwed her eyes shut, tears of anguish spilling down her face.

Unconcerned about style points. Carl finished rapidly, his final thrust pressing the woman into the gurney's padding. She felt his seed explode inside her, scalding her with revulsion. Before dismounting, the orderly attended to the proper fitting of the gag.

He grasped her short hair, pulling Lila's head off the thin pillow. Feeding the strap through the buckle, he jerked on it three times before securing it. It crushed the girl's head and face relentlessly. The other strap was an inverted "Y", starting at her cheeks, then merging as one between her eyes. From there, it passed over the crown of her head and buckled in back. It too, burned her scalp with a vice-like squeeze. From his shirt pocket, Carl produced a brass padlock. He showed it to his victim, before snapping it in place at the nape of her neck. The gag would not come off, no matter how she clawed at it. Were she able to.

Flashing the helpless woman a cruel grin, the orderly reached into the canvas sack once more. When he showed her the straps dangling from his hand, Lila's eyes grew wide. Not from the straps themselves, but from the obviously phallic shaped appendage attached to them. Somehow managing to keep his semi-rigid member inside her, Carl fitted the waist belt in place. By the time he was done tightening, the 1" black leather strap, it all but disappeared into the flesh around her torso.

Finally, he withdrew, only to align the magenta colored probe. 8" long and almost 2" in diameter, it would have been a difficult task to insert voluntarily. Carl was only too happy to assist his "volunteer". Using the heel of his hand once again, he thrust the dildo into the girl's slick folds. Lila felt certain it was going to split her in to. Her muted screams seemed only to egg him on. By the time the crotch strap pressed against her labia, the brunette was certain that her head was going to explode.

After slipping the crotch strap through the buckle at her navel, the orderly secured it snugly and climbed off the gurney. Lila alternated desperately between trying to squeeze the invader out and relaxing to ease the bloating. Equally disconcerting, was the barbed discomfort assaulting her ass crack, anus, labia and clitoris. Her brief examination of the harness, had not allowed her to see the hundreds of hard rubber spikes, lining the inside of the strap.

Producing a pair of short leather belts, Carl used them to secure Lila's knees wide apart to the rails of the gurney. Then, unbelievably, he turned his attention back to the crotch strap. Using both hands, he somehow managed to coax three more notches out of the band cleaving her sex. Lila's voice caught in her throat, her sex feeling like it was straddling a wire cheese slicer. Part of her brain registered the act of the orderly inserting another padlock through the union of the straps.

Her imploring eyes disappeared behind an ordinary, elastic sleep mask. Despite its simplicity, it nonetheless rendered her completely blind. Carl reached down between Lila's legs and rotated the ribbed knob jutting from the crotch strap. Barely audible, the dildo began purring inside the helpless girl.

Pulling on his pants, the orderly removed the brakes from the gurney, and wheeled his charge out of the room. He had no worry of being discovered (though Lila did not know this), for they were in a restricted section of the hospital. This allowed the "patient", an erroneous hope that rescue might be at hand. Crushing that hope, would be an integral part of her re-education. Besides which, the elevator leading to the exclusive levels was just across the hall.

Carl wheeled his charge inside and pressed the button for the lowest level. Rather than Muzak, interior of the tiny steel box was filled with the sound of a powerless woman's sobs.


Part 2

Dr. Rayne Attenburg finished her mundane reports, then switched off her computer. Four hours had passed since the Public Defender had finished his assessment of Lila Powell's condition. Rayne was anxious to visit the young woman, but knew that time, was a valuable tool regarding a patient's 'conditioning'. As the minutes crawled past, Lila would become increasingly desperate, willing to do almost anything to be released. It was Rayne's job to see that the subject would do anything.

Stepping into her private office's small washroom, the doctor applied some makeup. Bold eyebrows, a light blush to accent her prominent cheekbones, and blood red lipstick, was all that was needed to present a strict appearance. Rayne's natural demeanor would provide the rest.

She slipped out of her knee length lab coat. Had the young defense attorney been there, he would have received yet another shock. Underneath the coat, Rayne wore nothing but a gleaming, black patent leather corset. The base flared out to rest upon her hipbones. It curved in severely, wasping her waist to almost 22". The hourglass shape opened up again, cupping her bare, 34-D bust.

Rayne sat on the commode and worked the seamed, black silk stockings up her legs. They stopped at mid-thigh and were held in place with four garters. She pulled on and laced up a pair of patent leather knee boots. The polished hide glimmered like mirrors, as did the 5", chromed stiletto heels. Standing at 6' 1", she had no need for clunky, platform-style soles.

Standing with an easy grace that comes from wearing such footwear for years, Rayne checked herself in the mirror one last time. She removed the tasteful gold hoops from her ears. She'd worn them only for the interview with the attorney. When conducting her true vocation, she wore nothing that would detract from her persona, which was a cold, remorseless bitch.

Dr. Attenburg strode back into her office, not the least bit self-conscious, though she wore no panties. Her naturally blonde bush was moderately trimmed in an inverted triangle. She found that her "recruits" were intimidated by her apparent disregard to the state of her exposure. She'd also discovered early on in her role as Dominatrix, that most new "trainee's" reviled the thought of cunnilingus. This revulsion was exacerbated, when their noses were forced into a fuzzy patch of pubic hair.

Rayne approached the office wall lined from floor to ceiling with book shelves. Pulling on a particular volume (Dante's Inferno) produced a soft *click*. A section of the bookshelf swung out easily, exposing a sturdy oak door. Selecting a key from the ring that dangled on her hip, the doctor unlocked the door and swung it open. Beyond the door lie a narrow set of steps.

Built prior to the World War I, the architects had known only slightly less about psychological disorders, than the doctors who treated them. Believing the inmates to be dangerous and capable of almost anything (which was often quite true), the builders had incorporated a means for the medical staff to escape, should an uprising take place.

Rayne descended the circular stone staircase with the confidence of having done it many times before. At the bottom, she reached yet another solid wooden door, this one complete with sliding view port and reinforced on both sides with steel sheeting. Another key was used to open the portal. Stepping inside, the doctor ignored the corridor that led out under the hospital grounds, to a long abandoned groundskeeper's cottage. Instead, she turned left, walking ten paces to yet another locked door.

Behind this, lie the cells that once housed the most hopeless of cases. All manner of murders, rapists and sociopaths had been condemned to this dank hole, the 'modern' medicine of its time, ineffective in treating their condition. The main access to the cells had been sealed off long ago, in part, due to the fledgling Human Rights groups which had believed the practice of 'permanent isolation' to be deplorable. The elevator still functioned to this level, though only Rayne, Carl and one other, knew of its existence.

When Dr. Attenburg had been scouring the internet for a place to set up a base of operations in the States, she'd stumbled across the original blueprints of the hospital. It showed everything ready-made for an enterprise to hit the ground running.

A bonafide Doctor of Psychology, with particular expertise in the female psyche, Dr. Attenburg had had no trouble joining the tired hospital staff. She quickly worked her way up the administrative ladder. A timely and fatal, "car accident" involving the then current director, as well as the greasing of a few politicians' palms, and Rayne had become the new hospital director. With everything in place, she brought in a few trusted people and set up shop. Lila Powell was not the first woman to be "processed", here in the bowels of the hospital.

Rayne drew a deep breath, never failing to tingle at the scent of misery that seemed to be trapped down here. THIS was her element. Her heels clacked across the irregular stone floor. The wide corridor hosted a set of ten, heavily reinforced wooden doors, five on each side. Each door was equipped with two portals. A sliding view port up high and a slot near the floor, through which passed food trays. The latter was seldom used. Currently, only two of the cells were occupied.

Aside from Lila, in Cell #6, Cell #3 housed one, Patricia "Pepper" Dwyre, a runaway from York, Pennsylvania. Rayne smiled, as she recalled that Patricia had practically captured herself. Pepper's flight from an abusive home had gotten her as far as the outskirts of Philadelphia. It would be the farthest she would ever travel as a free woman.

It had been raining buckets when Dr. Attenburg, heading for home, saw her on the shoulder of the road. Thoroughly drenched, Pepper gratefully accepted a ride. She was set at ease, by the fact that her "rescuer" was a woman. Carefully crafted questions kept the conversation light and flowing. Patricia, upon finding out Rayne's occupation, eagerly volunteered information that would have made most therapists blush.

Satisfied that all links connecting Pepper to society had been severed, the doctor had jammed the Tazer into the unsuspecting girl's neck. As the short, shapely redhead lay slumped in the passenger seat, muscles twitching, Rayne injected her with a powerful sedative. Then it was back to the hospital. Being so late at night, no one saw her carry the unconscious girl into the groundskeeper's cottage and through the subterranean corridor. Long before the sedative wore off, Pepper was stripped, manacled and gagged, then chained to a thin exercise mat on the floor of Cell #3. It had been her 'home' for the last three weeks.

As Dr. Attenburg passed the cell, she could hear a soft *whir*, accompanied by a fast, steady "thump-thump-thump". Rayne smiled once more, completely aware of what was taking place on the other side of the door.

A hair over five feet tall, Patricia possessed the physical attributes of a potentially gorgeous woman. A full, freckled face with emerald colored eyes and thick mane of scarlet hair, heralded her Irish background. Her 34-B cup bust wasn't quite the equipment needed to become a porn star starlet. But her breasts were pleasingly full, with big, pink nipples. However, Pepper tended to be a little on the pudgy side. Rayne had quickly set up a regimen to correct that.

The doctor knew that currently, the 18 and a half year old Miss Dwyre was bound and jogging on a treadmill. A thick penis gag was lodged in her mouth, a tube through its center delivering a steady flow of sports drink. At first, Pepper had sputtered and choked on the arrangement, but necessity had forced her to rapidly adapt. Just three weeks into her 'training', the redhead had dropped almost 3/4's of the targeted weight, the goal being from 130 lbs, down to 105.

Rayne paused briefly to listen to the prisoner's bare feet slapping on the continuous tread. She knew that once the optimum weight had been attained, the treadmill would not lie off somewhere gathering dust. It would then be time for Patricia to graduate to running in high heels. Once mastered, the heels would lengthen, then lengthen yet again.

Deciding that Lila wasn't going anywhere (true enough) for the time being, Dr. Attenburg unlocked the door to Cell #3 and slid the massive bolt aside. Swinging the door open, she had to squint briefly, as the dazzle from half a dozen Klieg lights flooded into the dim corridor. There, focused in the center of tens of thousands of candlepower, was the glistening Patricia Dwyre.

Though her back was to her, Rayne could almost see the prisoner tense, at the sound of someone entering the cell. Pepper had been here long enough, to know that only three people had access to these chambers, none of them bringing good intentions. Sweat poured down the beauty's body, the machine's tread dark with the drips and spatters of her perspiration. Dr. Attenburg could now hear the redhead's ragged breaths, as she tried valiantly to keep up with the treadmill's pace. She had no other choice. Rayne closed the door, sealing in the room's heat, which was well into the nineties.

Patricia's arms were folded across the middle of her back, forearm against forearm. A continuous leather tube, from bicep to bicep encased her arms, no fewer than a dozen straps squeezing her limbs unalterably in place. Aside from the gag and arm sheath, the only other restraints she wore, were a 2" wide leather collar, a set of thick leather ankle cuffs with attached hobble chain, and a crotch strap. A thin, elastic cord was centered on the hobble chain, rising up to the crotch strap, to insure that her feet did not become entangled. Surprisingly (to the uninformed), she was not affixed to the treadmill in any fashion. The "voluntary" exercise was part of a carefully crafted regimen of training.

Purely as a safety precaution, a lightweight nylon harness passed around her torso, its slack tether anchored to the ceiling above her. It offered her no assistance, merely preventing a catastrophic fall.

Pepper's pace did not slacken with the entrance of her visitor. Nor did she attempt to turn to see who had come in. She knew that either action would have dire consequences. Instead, she remained focused on the 16" monitor, three feet in front of her. The monitor registered heartbeat, respiration, elapsed time and distance traveled. The one thing it did not tell her, which she desperately wanted to know, was the duration of this exercise period. It never did.

When Rayne strode around front, Patricia hazarded a quick look. Her piercing green eyes brimmed with exhausted desperation and blinked rapidly from the constant sting of perspiration. Dr. Attenburg stood there, hands on hips, not uttering a word. The posture said it all, "I am in complete control. You, are without any".

Pepper tried to articulate a single word around the penis gag that might have been, "Please". The doctor's expression hardened and the redhead knew she'd made a mistake. Remaining silent, Rayne moved away. Once out of sight, she grasped a crop hanging from a hook on the wall. Continuing her brief trek, she stopped once she was behind the 'jogger'.

"NEVER!..." She spat, in a voice that was devoid of compassion. The first blow of the crop coincided with her chastisement, landing square across both of Patricia's ass cheeks. The livid red line burned bright, mixed amongst others in varying stages of fading. Rayne raised her arm back once more.

"...Speak without permission!" Each syllable was accentuated with a blistering strike of the crop, all centered on the poor Miss Dwyre's buttocks.

Pepper faltered, very nearly stumbling. Somehow, she maintained her rapid gait. She knew that failing to do so, would mean a punishment far worse than the lashing she'd just received. For attached to the inside of the crotch strap, were two oddly shaped nodules. Her anus reluctantly gripped the smaller of the two. The larger, elongated one was wedged between her labia, with a node pressing directly against her clitoris.

Any of these could, individually or in tandem, deliver an excruciating shock. The power for these tormentors was provided by eight, lithium power packs attached to the waist belt. This, was the reason she ran so determinedly. Failing to remain within the parameters set for the current session and Patricia would feel as though her privates had been kissed with a branding iron. She'd yet to experience all the variations in which the shocks could be administered and had no wish to do so.

Lesson given, Dr. Attenburg turned to leave. The only clue the redhead had of her tormentor's departure, was the brief wash of cool air from the corridor, followed by the sound of the door being closed and securely latched in place. Patricia fought back the tears as she ran on in solitude, only four souls on earth aware of her plight.


Part 3 (added: 01/24/2010)

Dr. Attenburg strolled diagonally from Cell #3, across the hall to Cell #6. She silently slid the viewing port open and peered inside. A wicked grin creased her beautiful face.

"Carl certainly is getting creative." She thought.

For as animated as Patricia Dwyre's bondage predicament was, Lila Powell's was conversely stagnant. The brunette was perched in the far corner of the cell, helpless to move from that spot. The gurney on which the girl had been transported here, was nowhere to be seen.

"I do like it when the staff clean up after themselves." The statuesque blonde reflected. Rayne took a moment to appreciate Lila's dilemma.

The brunette's hands were balled up inside tight leather pouches, her fingers rendered useless. Her arms were folded up behind her back in a "double hammerlock", heavy leather wrist cuffs locked to rings on the back of a thick leather collar. A trio of 1" leather straps encircled her folded arms and chest, fusing the limbs against her back.

To the untrained eye, it would appear as though Lila was levitating in mid-air. Her legs had been folded, calves pressing tightly against her thighs. 'Three' appeared to be the magic number, for three straps had also been used to crush the bent legs in place. Ridiculously heavy chain had been affixed to cuffs on each knee and used to pull her legs wide apart. This added some stability to her arrangement.

Dr. Attenburg noted that she needn't have been so stealthy in her initial inspection of young Miss Powell. Carl had fitted a bulky set of noise dampening headphones over her ears, an integrated elastic strap around her head, ensured that they couldn't be shaken off. A lawn mower could be roaring right behind her and Lila would be, not-so-blissfully, unaware.

Rayne unlatched the heavy door and walked in for a closer inspection. She knew the reason for the brunette's 'levitation', even before she saw it. A black, tubular pole jutted out horizontally from the corner Lila was facing. The girl's crotch was "resting" on the pole, thus bearing all her weight. The doctor could see that the petite brunette was still wearing the waist belt and crotch strap. She knew that the pole had been cast with a vertical hole in it, cut just the right size to accommodate the control knob of the dildo. Leaning in, she could hear the violator churning at high intensity. She doubted that at the moment, it was offering much of a distraction to its host.

Dr. Attenburg's curiosity was roused, by the captive's agitated state. Surely she couldn't be trying to get free. She should know by now, even this early in her captivity, that once bound, she stood zero chance of escape. She also doubted that Lila was in any type of sexual frenzy. But as she stood upright, Rayne peered over the girl's shoulder. Apparently, Carl's deviant mind had been working overtime.

The orderly had attached a steel tether to the front of Lila's collar. He'd run it up to an anchor pounded in the stone wall's mortised corner. Making it taut, he'd insured that the bound girl would remain upright, whilst "perched" on the pole. In the process, Carl's actions had all but destroyed a large cobweb. The damage was so extensive, it had to have been premeditated.

Now, just inches from the captive's nose, a HUGE, black spider scurried about, trying to repair the damage. Rayne cast a glance at the poor girl's profile. Eyes wide as saucers were locked on the eight legged monster. Below, tightly stretched lips worked frantically around a massive, 3-¾" yellow ball gag. The superfluous gag strap dimpled her cheeks, on its way to being buckled and padlocked behind her head.

A glint caught Rayne's eye. She looked down and saw that the orderly had added a set of nipple clamps. Lila's feeble struggles set the heavy silver chain connecting them in motion. The links swung back and forth, tapping lightly against her tightly stretched torso.

"A+ for originality and 'distress factor'." The doctor said out loud.

Lila heard not a word of it.

Rayne reached up behind her captive and snatched off the headphones. Caught completely unaware, the brunette lurched on her perch. No doubt this caused the dildo to shift violently inside her and grinding her loins into the rigid shaft she straddled.

"hhhmmmnghhfff!" Lila pleas gurgled out wetly.

"I see you've made a new friend, cunt." Dr. Attenburg growled in her ear.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if he decided to use that cute nose of yours as an anchoring point? Why, he could even use one of your nostrils as a little hidey-hole."

"nnnnnngghhh!!!" The brunette bleated once more

"I had planned on resuming your training," Rayne confided in her captive, "but what a divinely appropriate analogy. You ARE the little fly caught in my web."

"I think I'll let you ponder that for a while longer." She continued. "Say, 4 more hours?"

Lila's unintelligible response, still made it clear she couldn't last four more minutes in this insidious position. Unfazed, Dr. Attenburg re-positioned the headphones. The gorgeous prisoner let out a mournful wail which abruptly cut off, as Rayne's fingernails mimicked an insect-like walking motion across Lila's flat stomach.

"God," Rayne sighed contentedly, "I love my job."