Author's Note: No plans to update this; just something I came up with while taking a break from a longer work. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. All comments and criticisms are welcome and appreciated.

The lifeguard's staring at me again. What a perv.

I raise my hands over my head, twisting around like I've got a hula hoop around my waist. Mistress Helena-the sarcastic name I've given our instructor in my head-calls this move the Washing Machine. The Machine, for short. She has a million of these moves, each more strenuous than the last. But the results are undeniable and her water aerobics classes are always packed; the only way to get in is by waiting list.

Which is how I got in myself.

At her next bark of orders I kick my long legs over to the side to grab my water noodle. She wants us to work on our abs. I push myself back and forth, loving the velvety feel of the water across my skin. The lifeguard seems to be leaning over in his chair to watch me as I pulse my legs in and out. So maybe I give him a little bit of show, straining extra hard under his eye. He's actually not bad looking, wavy dark hair and a chest you can rest on. But what kind of guy is still working a lifeguard job in his late twenties? A loser, I decide as I pull my legs up to my chest and piston them down again, enjoying the feel of my muscles burning.

Helena motions us all to the shallow end of the pool so we can work on our stretches before the end of class. We step back with one leg and then the other, straining our bodies to the absolute limit. If she catches you slacking she verbally whips you in front of everyone. What a bitch, I think as she yells at some blushing brunette for not getting her leg back far enough. You'd think she'd be nicer-hell, we're paying for her time. She actually got onto me before class, coming up from behind as I was tightening my flotation belt.

"This is wrong size," she said sharply, undoing the buckle and taking it off before I could protest. She looked me up and down, taking in my brief red bikini and my tiny waist. "You are definitely a small." She took another belt off the rack and tightened it herself, pulling it through the buckle until I sucked in a gasp. "There," she said, eyeing me appraisingly as I stood there trying to breathe. "Belt must be tight so it won't ride up in the water. This time I help you, so next time you know." I muttered a thanks as she strode off, her toned muscles flexing, her statuesque body firm and perfect beneath the sporty one-piece. Whatever, I thought, plopping myself in. Next time I'll fix the damn belt any way I want to. I'd like to see her try to stop me.

For the final cool-down she has us raise our hands up high and then clasp them tight behind our backs. I pull my arms behind me obediently, arching my back with my elbows touching. I can feel the lifeguard's eyes on me again. I guess looking at a body like mine must be a real treat.

I can't help evaluate myself as I towel off in front of the mirror a few minutes later. I work hard to keep in shape but I must admit nature gave me a lot to work with-long sleek legs, flattened toned tummy, curvy hips and a tiny waist. My breasts are nice too, a perfect handful guys are always complementing. The ones I let see them, that is. I'm careful about who I show my body to and they need to spend plenty before they get a treat. I've sent many a guy home with blue balls and what of it? Being young and beautiful has its advantages and I plan to utilize this to the fullest before I settle down with the right guy.

I catch some stares in the locker room as I wipe myself down. Not all of these looks are friendly. Apparently bikinis are not supposed to be worn to a water workout class. Well, unlike a lot of these cows I have always kept myself in excellent shape and why shouldn't I show it off? I give my firm ass a little shake as I start to brush through my hair, reams of strawberry blonde that is truly my crowning glory.

As I groom myself some of the conversation behind me filters in, something about a girl named Celeste. One woman asks if anyone has heard from her; it was just so weird she stopped coming-she seemed so dedicated to aqua fitness. This must be the chick whose spot I had taken; if you miss so many sessions you are out and someone else is in. While the other women cluck worriedly, I am merely glad Celeste is lazy so I could claim her spot in the class. Despite Helena's strictness, this workout is much more fun than regular aerobics-I never get hot and I have always been a graceful swimmer.

My hair now a fluffy, glorious cloud, I decide to warm up by laying in the sauna. I am an active, yearly member so I have access not only to the locker room and showers, but the women's wet area which contains two whirlpools and a sauna. I gather up my things in my cute pink gym bag and strut my way through the double doors.

The hour is late so I have the place to myself. I pull my towel, player and headphones out of my bag and open the sauna door. I murmur softly as the warm, fragrant air hits me; it feels delightful on my chilled skin. The earthy smells of wood and smoke fill my nostrils as I pillow my towel on one of the benches and stretch myself out directly against the planks. I place headphones over my ears and close my eyes, letting the sensuous atmosphere relax me.

Yeah, I said sensuous. Something about saunas always make me horny. Maybe it's the heaviness of the hot air, pressing down on my naked limbs. I find my mind drifting into a fantasy about I guy I've been dating. In it he is spreading my legs and stroking my hips, pleading with me to let him go down on me. I make him offer me various pieces of expensive jewelry before I'll even consider it. He has worked his way up to a diamond ring as big as his fist when I feel a soft tickling sensation along the crotch of my bikini bottoms.

I open my eyes slowly to see the lifeguard on the bench bedside me, a nasty grin on his face.

I sit up with a gasp, knocking his hand away. "What are you doing in here?" I demand. "This is the women's locker room! I'll have you fired for this." While I was daydreaming the little shit thought he could sneak in here and cop a feel. Well, I'll show him. I toss my head haughtily as I draw my knees up to my chest.

He smiles at me arrogantly, unperturbed. "Oh, I don't think so, darlin'," he drawls, eyeing my body in a way that makes me wish for a coat. "I'm thinking you're not going to tell anyone about this at all."

"Oh really." I say, trying to ignore the squiggle of fear that has crawled into my belly. "And why's that?"

"Because," he says, "I have every intention of keeping that pretty mouth of yours gagged."

For a second I just goggle at him, sure I must have heard wrong. When his words sink in I shove myself back, swinging my legs off the bench.

'Oh no you don't." He captures my ankles before I can get away and yanks me flat onto my back. How dare he! "Get your hands off me!" I scream, clawing at him as he looms in. A red scratch appears on one handsome cheek and I feel a hot rush of satisfaction. His smile never fades as he snatches up my wrists and pins them together in front of my face. "A wildcat, huh," he says, squeezing his grip until I gasp out in pain. "I like that." With a mocking sneer, he forces himself onto me and jerks my hands up over my head.

He's going to rape me! I part my lips to scream for help and his hand is right there, clamping my mouth shut with a viciousness that belies his easy grin. I buck frantically within his grip, but my gym-toned muscles are no match for his raw, masculine strength. I squeal in panic as I feel the long, thick hardness of him through the rough material of his swim trunks.

"Jeremy! What is the meaning of this?" I have never been so glad to hear Instructor Helena's bitchy tones. We both look up to see her standing in the doorway, every imperious inch of her disapproving and cold.

"Helen." He gets off of me slowly, his eyes darkly amused. Panting from my exertions, I scramble several feet back and grab my towel up from the floor. Despite the heat I wrap it tightly around me, hiding my bikini'd body as much as I can.

"Helena. How many times have I told you." The look she gives him as she crosses the sauna floor could scorch glass. He smiles at her insolently, giving her a mocking little bow.

"Helena. Whatever. Nothing was going on." He spares a glance at me, that smile still nailed into place. Is he really going to try to play this off? Now that the danger is past I feel my anger surface, flooding my face with sudden heat. "This asshole just snuck in here and tried to rape me," I say, pointing a finger in his smirking face. "I want the authorities called and him fired, immediately!"

"Is that so." Her gaze, which had flicked to me, is back on him. He shrugs, looking bored. "I was just having some fun," he says, annoyed.

Fun! I throw back my towel and leap to my feet. "I could sue this place for employing such a pervert!" I yell. "Don't you people do background checks? At any rate, I want his ass in jail, pronto!"

Sniffing haughtily, I cross my slim arms under my breasts, fuming at the indignity of it all. How dare he put his hands on me like that! Never have I been touched in such a manner. I catch his eyes on me and I give him a triumphant, hateful sneer. I can't wait until he's locked up in jail, getting reamed by multiple cellmates while he thinks about how he never should have messed with me.

"I see." Helena looks his arrogant ass up and down, clearly not liking what she sees. "I told you to wait," she says. "If you are going to continue to ignore my instructions then I don't see how I can continue to work with you."

"You don't have a choice. I don't take orders from you." He looks unimpressed by her cold-ass glare. For my part I can't believe they're talking like this. Is that bitch implying he might actually keep his job? "I don't think you heard me," I say loudly. "This cretin tried to rape me. I want something done right now!"

Helena shakes her head and addresses him like I haven't even spoke. "Still. I could make life difficult for you, if you choose to raise such issues."

He shrugs again, softening his stance. "I was just examining the merchandise."

"That is done on other location." Her voice is as cold and unyielding as a Russian mountaintop. He sidles up to her, his tone now wheedling. "I don't see why we can't do it right here."

My stomach gives a nervous little lurch. Something is not right here. Not right by a mile. I grab my towel and music player and clutch them to my chest. "I'm calling the police," I say, and shove my way past them to the door.

Before I take two steps hands grab me from either side.

"Hey!" My stuff falls to the floor as I'm jerked back between them. I feel a cold hand on the crook of my neck.

"No, darling," Helena says, her voice serene. "You're not going anywhere until we take a look at the goods."

The goods? Fear rockets through my nervous system as I realize she's talking about me.

"Somebody help me!" I scream, trying to fight my way free. "Somebody-mmmph!" A hard hand clamps over my mouth, yanking my head back. I squirm defiantly, tiny noises of protest escaping my muffled mouth as I am lifted off my feet and manhandled back on the bench. My body tenses up in shock as violating hands begin to examine me, fondling and testing my helpless body as though I were slave being assessed for sale.

"Open her mouth," Helena says, her voice cool as a winter breeze. Jeremy complies, forcing my jaw open as I fight to bite down. "Ah. Excellent teeth. And just look at those lips, would you? As soft and ripe as a summer strawberry." At her words he leans down and samples me himself, nibbling on them, slipping his hot tongue inside as I moan angrily. How could this be happening? I jerk my arms and legs again but the heat and my fear are making me dizzy. They casually continue to explore my sweating, delicate flesh.

"Oh god, look at those tits, will ya? I've never seen a more perfect handful." Jeremy takes the string of my bikini top and begins to undo it. I mumble No! No! into the hand restraining my lips and start struggling hard again. Jeremy traps my legs between his thighs and from behind Helena pulls me up to a sitting position. I groan angrily as she yanks my hands to the small of my back and locks them in her grip. My mouth still covered completely by her hand, I can do nothing as Jeremy unties the string and maliciously bares my trembling chest.

"Oh yeah. This is nice." He squeezes the soft mounds roughly, rolling the nipples until they start to harden under his hand. "These nipples are perfect for clamping," he says offhandedly, pinching one until I give a muffled squeal. He looks up at me, that hateful grin back on his face. I order him to stop through the grip of her fingers, but he just smirks at me, takes my tits into his hands, and treats himself to a full-on grope.

It goes on and on, hands squeezing and pinching my tapering legs, commenting on the firmness of my thighs, the small deliciousness of my feet. Comments that would be flattering coming from an adoring lover are grotesque out of the mouths of these two perverts. When he reaches up to undo the strings on my bikini bottoms I start to whine, thrashing so wildly for a minute it takes both of them to hold me down. They murmur excitedly about my "spirit" and debate whether or not to get some rope. In the end they simply lie me flat the on the bench, Helena crushing my arms beneath her toned thighs while her hands cup my mouth into silence. Jeremy spreads my legs and begins to teasingly reveal my most private area, while hot tears of anger burn in my eyes.

"Well well well. Will you look at this." He pulls my bikini down my spread thighs and looks at Helena. "Natural blonde," he tells her, tangling his fingers through the hair. I groan again. My soft, thick pubic hair has always been a delight to me; I love to run my fingers through it when I pleasure myself in my bed late at night. The few men that I have let see it were almost reverent about the feel and smell of it, soft strawberry blonde curls that matches the hair on my head. Now strange fingers are stroking and groping it, playing with the soft fat lips that are hidden underneath. I start to whimper as he opens me up and teases inside them, dancing his fingers along my clit.

"Sensitive," he whispers, watching as I dampen under his assault. I bite back a sob, desperate to stop myself from arousing but unable to control my body's response.

"Let's see that ass." Without warning I am flipped over and pinned on my stomach, my bikini top stuffed into my mouth. I groan helplessly as hands knead into my pushed-out bottom. "Like the halves of a peach. She's the color of one, too." Four hands trace the glowing, peachy skin, caressing me like I am their private property. I groan again, trying to work the wad of material out of my mouth.

Male fingers press at my buttoned anus. He plays with the fine, downy hair lining my ass before forcing his way in. I cry out into my gag. "She's an anal virgin," he reports, and I am glad I am facedown so they can't see me flush with shame. I try to brace myself for what's coming next but I feel the first tears spill as he slips a finger into my moistened slit. "She's not a virgin here, but she hasn't been used much," he says. He jams another finger in to join the first and wiggles them around, caressing my contracting walls while I whimper at the violation. "It's hard to get two fingers in-she's still tight as hell," he says, and Helena takes a hand and caresses the side of my face. "Good girl," she whispers lovingly, and I choke into the gag, hot tears flooding my face.

The fingers are removed and I'm flipped back again, the bikini material pulled free from my lips. Before I can cry for help I feel the fondling fingers of Helena's soft hand push into my mouth.

Jeremy looks at her over my flushed, exposed body. "I want to try her out," he says, his voice businesslike and hard.

She looks at him without expression. "That's not part of the deal," she says softly.

"Isn't it?" He runs a finger along the length of my hip. I begin to tremble in fear. I don't want to be tried out. I want to be safe at home in my cozy bed.

"No. It isn't." She clamps hard on my jaw, her fingers tightening into my hair.

"Testing her is, though." He continues to stroke me. I squirm under his molesting hands, the feel of him on me stoking my rage.

"Whatever." She flaps a hand at him before jerking me upright, the firm palm still pressing against my lips. "All I'm saying is, I don't want to see your dick."

He takes his turn holding my mouth while she ties my hands behind me, using my bikini top to bind my wrists. Once that's done she forces me tight against her chest, her full breasts pressing into my back. "Go ahead," she says, checking her waterproof watch with a twist of her wrist. "I'll time her. We'll see how long she takes."

His hand comes off my mouth while hers goes back on. I moan helplessly through her fingers while he smiles at me lecherously, enjoying the defiance in my eyes.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you give in, princess," he says, and puts his hands between my thighs.

It takes eight minutes. He puts two fingers into my cunt and one into my ass, and uses his free hand to manipulate my clit. He is surprisingly gentle, a firm rocking motion that increases in intensity as I start to respond. As he plays with me Helena fondles my tits, squeezing and toying with my nipples until they are embarrassingly long and hard. I groan insensibly, hating the intimacy of her palm against my lips, hating the fact they are touching me at all. It is particularly hard to have Helena's hands on me. I have never been touched sexually by another woman before and her soft gropes cause me even more anguish than Jeremy's possessive fingers and sly looks.

I jerk within their molesting hands, fighting to escape the humiliating sensations. But my angry, muffled protests turn to soft, high cries as they masturbate me, and soon I am jerking for a different reason, riding Jeremy's driving fingers as Helena silences my mouth and cups a swollen breast.

"MM.MM.MMM." My climax overcomes me quickly as they encircle me with their groping arms. It is overwhelming to have so many hands on me. For several seconds I continue to rock against them, my eyes rolling back as I chase my pleasure all the way to the end. Then I am shivering helplessly, my eyes filling with tears of shame.

"Eight minutes. That was excellent." Helena pats my arm, sounding like she does when someone successfully completes a maneuver in class she didn't think they could do. She looks at Jeremy. "She is a fantastic specimen," she says, and for the first time her voice is alive with warmth.

"Yes, she is." Jeremy continues to eye me, that direct, feral look so dangerous on a man. I drop my eyes, unable to look anyone in the face. The idea that I've been forced to come by a woman and a lifeguard is just too humiliating for words.

I sag back suddenly, the heat and the terrible afterglow dizzying my head. "Let's get her out of here," I hear one of them say, and I feel myself being raised up, hands pinioning my legs, the bikini top being unwrapped from my wrists.

When my mind starts to clear again I am lying on the cool spa floor. My captors are standing over me, readying something from a small black case. Jeremy notices my sudden movement and leans down to grab me by the shoulder. "Don't worry, this will only take a moment," he says, and I feel a prick in the side of my arm.

"What-no—" I slump against him, realizing I've been injected with some drug. Still groggy from the sensations of my assault and the time I spent in the sauna, I raise up my arms to bat the needle from his hand. I realize my bikini bottoms are still around my thighs and I groggily try to tug them back up to hide my matted pubic hair from their lustful view.

The fog deepens as my arms are imprisoned behind me with soft, comfortable cuffs that go around my wrists and upper arms. They put another pair on my ankles and strap a cloth rope high around my legs, forcing my thighs together. "Please," I mumble. "Please, please." Something soft and large is pushed into my mouth, pressing down my tongue and forcing my jaws to open wide. I start to mewl as the obstruction is strapped in, closing my mouth around it and cutting off all but the softest of sounds. I blink my hazed eyes up at them, begging for mercy, but all I get is a sadistic smile from Jeremy as he draws my knees up to my chest and ropes my legs to my body, forcing me into a ball.

I hear the sound of something being rolled behind me. "I'll take her," Jeremy says, putting his hands around my upper body while I grunt unheard behind the gag.

"No, I'm taking her." There is a pause as they both lift me into a waiting trunk. I squeal deep inside my chest as they pack me in, my body sliding tightly into the padded space. "You go the apartment. Take care of things there."

"But-"

"No buts. You wanted her ahead of schedule, you've got to clean up the mess." Two sets of hands press down on my shoulders, making sure I can't move. "Fine," Jeremy says. "Just check the hall to see if we're clear."

She looks at him a moment, then turns. As soon as the locker room door swings shut, he crouches down on the floor and looks right at me.

"I've been waiting to get you princess," he says, stroking a hand across my upturned cheek. "Ever since your conceited ass bounced into that pool. And I am going to have you. I am going to have you in ways you've never even dreamed." He leans in and gives me an arrogant kiss on my silenced lips. "You think about that while they're processing you. You and me. Bet on it." I glare at him with my eyes, my anger rousing me, but he pats me on the head and shuts the lid.

I'm being kidnapped! The terror of it cuts through my haze and sends me to struggling against my bonds. Despite the drug they gave me-and my own superior flexibility-I am already aching from my body's restriction. I hear the scrape of footsteps and then sudden movement. I am being wheeled out of the gym. Realizing that my best chance for help was to get someone's attention now, I fight the bonds with all my strength and scream as loud as I can into the gag. But although I can hear fragments of conversation and the sounds of the busy gym, I can barely hear myself whimper faintly as I force my shoulder muscles to move slightly, trying to bang against the side of the trunk. No one knows I'm inside! Tears prick my eyes as Helena stops to talk with someone, confident that I am completely helpless, naked except for my bikini bottoms, trussed and muzzled within. I scream desperately into the mouth-stretching gag, trying to turn my cries into more than pressure in my chest. Please help me! "Swimming equipment," I hear Helena say, and the tears start to roll as the trunk begins moving once again.

Things start to blur up again as I feel myself being lifted and placed down. The drug I was injected with is starting to have its full effect. I hear a car starting and I realize I'm being driven away. Help me, I plead again, but even I can't hear me as my head collapses down.

When I open my eyes all I see is white. Bright, dazzling expanses of it. I feel groggy, like I've slept for way too long. My jaw aches. I turn my head, trying to work out the kinks in my neck. What is happening? I try to raise up, rub the sleep out of my eyes but I can't seem to move. I hear a man's voice say, "Sleeping Beauty. She's awake," and everything comes back in a terrifying rush.

I struggle uselessly against the bonds that are holding me. I seem to be strapped in some type of reclining chair. My limbs are fastened to metal arms and legs that stretch out from the seat, spreading me. It reminds me of the machine at the gym that lets you work on your inner thighs. I try to bring my legs together to see if the mechanism is the same, but my legs, strapped in at the ankle and above the knee, won't move.

As I strain about like a bird with two broken wings I realize I'm making these pitiful, squeaking sounds. My mouth is still filled with the effective gag and I can barely be heard even in the silence of the room. The man whose voice I heard steps around until he's standing in front of me. He is tall, late forties, with a competent serious air about him that matches the sensible spectacles perched on his nose. He is wearing a white lab coat and medical latex gloves. My squeaking gets higher and faster at the sight of him, suddenly aware that I am naked except for my string bikini bottoms. I try to bring my arms to my chest to hide my bare breasts but they remain rigidly outstretched from my body, leaving me exposed to his evaluating eyes.

"I'm afraid those are locked into place, my dear," he says. "They can be adjusted, of course, but not by you." He glances over to some point behind me. "You say she's already had the initial physical evaluation?"

"Yes. She is an excellent specimen." The confident, slightly European tones of Instructor Helena. I squirm harder in my chair, hating the sound of that perverted bitch that has done this to me. Her-and that deviant, southern-bred shithead lifeguard.

"Ah. Yes I see." He flips through a couple of pages attached to his clipboard. "Okay, my dear," he says, looking directly at me. "I'm going to take out your gag, let you take in some fluids, ask you a few questions. If you start screaming or misbehaving in any way the gag goes right back in. You are only to speak when spoken to. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nod my head quickly, anxious to get the gag out of my mouth. He assesses me a second more, then nods to the person standing behind me. The straps going around my head are loosened. I sputter with relief as the ball is pried from my mouth.

Immediately a straw is pressed to my lips. Without thinking I begin to suck, cool water splashing into my mouth. The feel of it awakens my thirst and I suck harder, trying to get as much down my throat as possible. The straw is taken away and I burn with resentment. Who are they to say if I am finished with my drink? The man steps closer, studying my eyes.

"Sleeping Beauty. What's your name, Beauty?"

"Persephone," I whisper. The fear is back, siphoning my anger, putting knots into the pit of my stomach.

"Persephone. That is a lovely name." He smiles gently at me, like I have somehow pleased him. He looks at Helena again. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three. Well that is just perfect, isn't it? A perfectly lovely age." He beams at me. I squirm in my seat again, trying to somehow loosen my restraints. "Please, sir, may I go home now?" I whisper.

"Sir, even. How nice." He looks over my head again. "Well-mannered," he comments.

Helena snorts. "I'm afraid you're being a bit deceived. She's more of a spitfire than she's coming off here."

"Hmm. Well that has its uses too. No medical issues, I presume?"

"None that she listed on the class form."

"Excellent. I'll do blood work to confirm that she's clean, of course. Family?"

Helena moves into my line of sight. I have to admit she cuts a handsome figure, black hair tied into a severe knot at the back of her neck, dark purple power suit clinging to her shapely form. "She left her emergency contact blank. From what we've been able to gather so far she has a father in Europe that sends her money when she requests it. He's remarried with a family of his own, so no problem there. Mother's dead. No husband, kids, or steady boyfriend."

"Work? School?"

"She's enrolled in the local university. After two years of playing around after high school her father got fed up and told her work or school. She chose school. She seems to be there primarily to husband hunt. Several different majors. She takes about two classes a semester. Lives off the bounty of men, including her father. Looking for the right man to take care of all of her needs, permanently."

"Well she doesn't need to worry about that anymore, does she." He smiles at me again. A rush of rage momentarily kills my fear. Who do they think they are to judge the way I live my life? "Fuck you," I yell right in his face. "You better let me out of here or I promise you there will be people looking for me." I twist my head as much as I can to glare at Helena. "As for you, bitch, when I get done with you you're going to beg for the police to take you! When I-ummph!"

The gag has been shoved back in. I shake my head angrily as it is pushed into my mouth. Two pairs of hands hold me steady as the strap is buckled tight. "I told you," Helena says conversationally, ignoring my indignant yips and moans.

"Yes, I see what you mean." The man who calls me Beauty leans in and studies me again, my mouth muzzled, my eyes furious. "Her eyes are lovely, though. So big and expressive, such a clear green. Almost like a cat's eyes, the way they catch the light. And that hair! Oh, yes, she is quite a find." He steps back and walks over to a panel on the far wall. He presses a button and then steps behind me, where I can't see. "I'll start the necessary bloodwork. The grooming process will take several hours but she should be ready by tonight. Do you wish to supervise?"

A pause. "No, I have things to take care of on my end. Besides, I wouldn't presume to tell you your business."

"No?" A change in tone. I hear the sound of two people stepping closer. Despite my predicament I strain to figure out what's going on. "You should see that arrogant brat they sent me," Helena says, strangely breathless. "He was trying to force himself on her when I caught him in the sauna room. Completely unprofessional."

"You can handle him." A caressing intimate whisper. I hear Helena's breath catch. And then there is a knocking on the door.

"Enter." Helena's voice is professional once again. I crick my neck to see several men of various ages moving toward me, all of them dressed in hospital scrubs and smocks of white.

"Au revoir." I hear the click of Helena's heels as she walks out the door. I feel a strange surge of worry-despite what she's done to me she did stop me from being raped; being left alone in a room full of men with my legs spread and vulnerable and my breasts on display sends a nervous fluttering through my belly.

"Well," the man says, smiling at me professionally. "Let's get started."

First they take my blood. I try to fight them, to rip my arms free from the straps but of course nothing happens except they get what they want. Next they bring out tray filled with warm dripping wax. "Body hair removal," the man the others call Doc states. I'm not sure if he's a real Doctor or if it's simply a deferential term of respect. He is definitely in charge though as the other men paint me with wax and press strips of cloth against my skin.

I whimper into the gag as they remove even the smallest peach fuzz from my arms and legs. I am of course extremely careful with my grooming but that doesn't stop them from ripping along every inch of my flesh. I struggle weakly as they undo the straps to turn me over, fastening me face down. With my face hid from view, I close my eyes and try to pretend that this is a normal waxing, that after they're done I'm going to take a nice mud bath then go home and lay down in my King-size bed. I can almost feel the freshness of the sheets as they untie the strings on my bikini and bare my rounded ass. I feel them brush the wax there and I cry out into my muzzle, humiliated by the hands I can't brush away, the way they talk about me like I'm some kind of mindless toy.

"Will you look at that. You can see her pussy hair from back here." I mmph into my gag as I feel fingers tug playfully at the silky hairs of my bush. "Hey Doc, c'mere and tell us how you want to handle this." The sound of footsteps. "Hmm," Doc says. "There's really too much of it, but it's so pretty I don't want her completely bare. Let's just do a trim. I'll supervise." I moan out my protest as I hear a clipper start up and more wax is painted between my thighs. God, no! My face turns red with shame as my most private parts are tickled with, parted, and carefully groomed. I feel like a pet being prepared for sale! I struggle harder this time when they unfasten me to do the front, but there are too many of them and they easily put me where they want me to go. "Look at that," one of then whispers, his fingers searching out my helplessly swelling lips. "This is turning her on."

"NMMOO." A round of laughter at my anguished cries. Several hands begin caressing me, and for the first time I feel a hard palm cupping my breast.

"That's enough." The sharp tones of Doc put an end to their groping. "Finish her up. There's still plenty to do before she's ready for display. He stands there staring directly at my crotch, directing them as they work to shape me to his liking. "There," he says finally. "That is perfect." He looks at me directly for the first time in ages. "You have a beautiful pussy," he says, and I growl behind my gag in a combination of rage and shame.

Next I am turned back over and placed with my knees bent onto the metal legs with my ass slightly up. They tighten straps around my ankles and just below my knees before bending my arms at the elbow and imprisoning my wrists. I jerk when I feel a gloved finger spreading lubricant in my ass. "Easy, easy," Doc says. "We are just going to give you an enema. You need to be completely clean for what happens next. This will go easier if you try to relax."

Relax. Hot tears spring to my eyes as I contemplate what might require me to be completely clean. I remember Jeremy referring to me as an "anal virgin" and it is difficult to hold back a sob.

One of the men strokes my hair as they insert the nozzle into my rectum. The intimacy of this, along with the soft rubbing of my stomach as the solution fills me up breaks down my determination not to cry in front of them and I begin to sob as the pressure builds. Hands stroke and pat my shaking body as my stomach cramps. "Good, good," the Doctor whispers, and I cry harder as the waste is released into a bucket below.

I am still sniveling as they undo the straps and ready another syringe. "Nm! Nm!" I plead, but there is no way to stop them as they put another needle in my arm.

"There, there," the Doctor says, his eyes reassuringly calm. "I know this has been very difficult for you. And you've been fairly good, considering. You're going to rest for a few hours and then we'll be ready to finish up. Gentlemen?" He gestures to his helpers to take me in hand.

I try to fight them off but it's like I'm moving in sticky glue. The men easily drag me over to a cot set against the wall. They settle me in, still naked, and fasten hospital cuffs around my wrists and feet. "Sweet dreams, Beauty," I hear the Doctor whisper, and once more I am dragged from consciousness against my will.

Hands against my skin. Soft, caressing fingers that cling to my slender arms and press against the small of my back. I am moaning, a continual helpless mmmph muffled by the gag still lodged in my mouth. I am being pulled upright, the cuffs on my cot replaced by imprisoning hands that grip my wrists. My head lolls back and I fight to gain focus.

"Give a low dose," I hear, and another prick goes into my arm. My legs are folding under me but there is still those supporting hands, cupping my drugged flesh and making me move. I feel the cold tile against my feet as they shuffle me forward. Then nothing.

When I come to again I am in a bath.

It is a huge sunken tub, large enough to fit several people in its swirling, bubbling waters. There is something warm and wet in my mouth. I try to use my tongue to push it out but I can't seem to make it move. I hear tinkling bells of laughter as I grunt with frustration.

"Look, she's trying to take out her gag." Hands push the dampened washcloth more firmly between my lips. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and force them open, trying to break through the haze. I am surrounded by beautiful, naked women, each with a thin gold collar locked around her neck. Hands are scrubbing me and teasing me everywhere. As I feel a bar of soap pass between my legs I find the strength to flail forward, breaking a wrist free before it's snatched up again and pinned against my side.

"Not so fast. We're not done with you yet." My head begins to swim as feminine fingers begin to scrub my scalp. I try to plead with them to release me, my eyes filling with frustrated tears. They only laugh at me, reaching forward to tweak a heaving breast, slipping wet fingers between my slippery thighs.

"Let's make her get a little close, shall we?" My hands are crossed behind me and pinned to my back while the fingers between my thighs begin to move faster. I cry out again, flushing red with humiliation as I am masturbated against my will. Two different hands cup my soap-slick breasts and I can feel fingers weaving into my long, blonde strands, pulling my head back. A teasing paw cups around my mouth and I moan against it, my hips forced up and down upon violating fingers, my pussy lips teased and stroked as I whimper no over and over again, shuddering within their grip. Just as I feel myself starting to build the fingers from my crotch are taken away, leaving me sobbing as they giggle about their game.

"Not so fast, sexy slut. When it's time for you to come you'll know it." Hands are pulling at my legs, holding them high out of the water as soap is rubbed along my thighs. I sag back into the teasing grip of my captors, blurring out again as I am stretched and scrubbed and cleaned.

My limbs feel heavy, like they've been submerged in wet sand. The kind you scrunch your toes in when you're walking on the beach. I like the beach. I like spreading out on a towel in my smallest bikini, slathering on some oil and slowly grilling myself to a golden glow while men stroll past eying hungrily what they can't have. I imagine I'm there now, my arms and legs buried beneath sands of dark gold. It's just a game that people play, digging holes with little plastic shovels and then burying people up to their necks. But the blue-green tide is rising and I struggle weakly in my organic prison, trying so hard to somehow break free. Help me, I hear myself say. I'm done playing. I want this game to be over...

"Tilt her head back." The soft yet commanding tones of one of my captors snaps my dreaming mind back to reality. I feel hands fisting into my half-dried locks, pulling my head backward with a gentle tug. I murmur a protest but my jaw has been propped open by some kind of contraption that allows anyone who wishes full access to my mouth. All I can manage is an inarticulate gurgle. I hear a round of giggles as someone drags a fingertip across my struggling lips.

"Shhh, relax. You want to be pretty, don't you?" The sound of a blow dryer starts up and I whimper at the sensation of warm air billowing against my neck, soft hands combing through the thick strands.

Someone is doing something to my fingers; I can feel each one being lifted in turn as something is fitted over my nails and then coated with fresh paint. There is also a soft brushing near my eyes; make-up is being applied by a deft hand.

"OOHOOG" I gurgle, trying like hell to move my head. I have been strapped to a chair; each ankle and wrist bound to protruding arms and legs. The chair is similar to the one I was tied to for my initial examination. My faint twitchings are no match for my bonds and I hear laughter again as I whimper in frustration. "Stay still," a firm voice says, and I feel a solid slap to my inner thigh. I moan again as she slaps the other side. "We have quite a ways to go and if you keep squirming we'll have to start all over." I try to respond but a wave of dizziness washes over me and I feel my head roll back as everything disintegrates into a serious haze. The last thing I feel are those insistent, primping fingers, handling my limp body with confident ease.

I am lying on my back. Something is happening to my legs. I can feel them being pressed together, something tight and clinging being wrapped around. I moan no but whatever has been pushed into my mouth keeps my cries to a faint whisper. Before I can try to move my arms I am once more claimed by the spell of the drug.

The sound of polite laughter. The gentle clink of glasses, the soft murmuring of the milling crowd. I open my eyes to see several groups of people dressed in fancy evening wear, wandering around what looks like exhibits of art. The lighting is dim and tasteful; I can hear the sound of water lapping at my feet. Have I been saved? I try to scream for help but all that comes out is a soft helpless sound. My mouth has been invaded with a huge long obstruction that nearly tickles the back of my throat. I try to scream again, to reach up with my hands to take out the gag. I cannot move; my hands have been locked tightly together behind me. Something cold and smooth is pressed against my back and along the undersides of my breasts.

"Oh look at this one, isn't she sexy?" A tall redhead in a stylish black pantsuit is standing in front of me. Her expression is wicked as she takes in my distress. Another woman joins her, a dark beauty with her hair caught in a French braid. The two of them eye me up and down, like I am a sinful dessert and they can't wait to indulge. I squeak frantically through the gag but the amused expression in their eyes does not change.

"Yes," French Braid says. "This is exquisite." She reaches out a hand to stroke the flesh of my breast. I whimper helplessly, wiggling my body in an effort to avoid her molesting hand. I am completely trapped; my legs are stuck together somehow and I have been forcibly arched with my hip to one side. The redhead moves her hands up too and there is a hot pinching pain on the tips of my breasts. I moan in agony, fighting even harder to get away. They laugh together, cruel eyes eating up every cry, every squirm.

"Senator. Over here." The torment stops abruptly as the redhead is called away. French Braid gives me a last, lingering look over her shoulder as she slinks after her.

What on earth is going on? I start to breathe faster as my eyes dart frantically around the room, searching for someone to rescue me from my plight.

"Hey there, princess." A dirty southern drawl hot against my ear. I jerk my head around to see Jeremy, his face a picture of mocking lust. I grunt angrily behind my gag but I can't help notice how handsome he looks, swimming trunks replaced by a sleek black tux. He puts a hand on the curve of my hip and my flesh quivers at the feel of him. I toss my head back, my eyes spitting with fear and hate.

"Easy, easy. You wouldn't want to attract too much attention." He continues to stroke me, ignoring my unintelligible protests and goose-fleshed skin. He takes a quick glance around before he puts his lips against my ear again.

"Look up," he whispers, his breath sweet with wine.

Trembling slightly, I do as he says.

A mirror has been set into the ceiling.

As soon as I see myself, I start to scream.

The entire area is like a small grotto, the soothing sea-blue walls flickering with fairy lights and hung with silky green twists meant to resemble seaweed. The lapping sound I heard is coming from a stone fountain, set in the middle of the dark polished floor. It is carved into the shape of a man, chiseled muscles cold and white, seated back onto a seahorse throne. In his hands he cups his prize catch, a creature as lovely as she is alien, flopping helplessly in his implacable grip.

Mermaid.

Me.

Where I once had perfectly toned, tanned legs I now have a sliver-green tail. The scales shimmer in the flattering light, rippling as I fight to move my legs within the tight, confining sheath. With horror I realize that all I am doing is slightly flapping my tail, adding to the fantasy that I am a creature of the deep writhing helplessly for a human's pleasure. I try to move my thighs apart but they are tied so tightly they might as well be glued; even my toes have been forced to point straight down, bound together in a ballet dancers en pointe.

For the first time I notice a distinct fullness below my waist.

The tail stops just below my hips, squeezing my mysteriously stuffed pubic region and pushing together the cheeks of my ass. My chest has been left naked and bare, save the jeweled nipple clamps that tease my sensitive buds to a dark, aroused red. I have been positioned across the Sea King's lap, his cold hands cupping my breasts, pushing them out as an offering to all who wander by. My hands have been tied behind my back and around his narrow waist, wrists lashed together with a soft yet firm material that refuses to yield no matter how much I struggle. My long, strawberry blonde hair has been teased into a glorious riot that hangs halfway down my bare back; my terrified green eyes have been heavily ringed in shades of dark emerald, black and silver, making them appear even more striking than usual. Even my lips have been painted a dewy coral around the decorative green-glass ball protruding from my mouth, the more practical long fat length of it capturing my tongue and preventing me from making any but the most helpless of sounds. I have been turned into an erotic, exotic display, something for people to feast their eyes on as they enjoy their champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

I mew in surprise as my eyes catch a faintly wiggling figure suspended high to my left. It seems I am not alone in my ocean tableau. A platinum blonde with a mass of curly ringlets plastered to her face has been tightly wrapped into a clinging, golden net. Her own tail is silver blue, a perfect match to her tear-filled eyes as she struggles vainly to get herself free. Her breasts-also tipped with jewels-are dangling down, allowing anyone passing beneath her to stroke and tease. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and I see her lips tremble around the blue-glass ball.

"That's Celeste," he whispers, his tongue tickling inside the shell of my ear. My eyes widen in recognition as I try to scream once again. The missing girl from class! He chuckles softly and presses a kiss against my gagged mouth, savoring my faint, panicked cries that only he can hear over the bubbling of the fountain. "Do you have any idea how hard you make me," he murmurs, his eyes sweeping my transformed body with eager lust. "You have me so turned on. Every man here, actually. And quite a few of the women." He gives a little pinch to one of my clamped nipples and I groan in pain behind my gag. "Such a pretty decoration. Fit only to decorate a rich pervert's home." He smiles at the wildness that comes into my eyes. "Yes sweetness," he hisses. "I am afraid you've fallen into the hands of some very bad people. A group of very powerful, very rich people. People that can afford to indulge in some unusual artwork...or beautiful slaves."

"UMMPH! UMMPH! UMMPH!" I beseech him with my eyes, fighting once again within my bonds. He smiles condescendingly and pats my cheek. "Oh, don't worry. I'm going to make sure we get plenty of time together before that happens. And there's your training, of course. Good ole Helen is planning an underwater mermaid show and THAT is going to require some hard work in your new class." He kisses me again, holding my chin firm as I try to turn away. "It's going to be a little different than you're used to," he whispers, his voice thickening with male need. "But I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. And when you're not in swim class, or being fed or groomed, you'll be right back here-a gorgeous ornament with no purpose other than to look pretty and suffer for our pleasure."

Terrified tears fill my eyes. He can't mean it, he can't! Trapped like this-unable to move or speak. I groan beneath the gag again, unable to take the picture he's painting for me. But I still have no idea how bad it can be. He gives another quick glance around and then leans forward to adjust a small knob attached to a nearby stand almost hidden by a potted plant. Immediately I feel something shudder to life within my pussy and anus. There us also a gentle vibration between my vaginal lips.

"Dildoes," he smirks. "One for your ass, and one for your pussy. We've also attached a stimulator against your clit. The sensation will not be enough to make you come, of course-just enough to make you writhe in helpless agony."

I moan helplessly, my eyes going wide. Already I feel myself start to move with the unwanted stimulation. I try to hold back but the soft, gentle motions inside me force my hips to rock as much as I can. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I look for all the world like an exotic fish caught on a cruel hunter's hook, my tail flopping as I faintly squirm on the Sea King's cold marble lap.

The tears fall then, hot against cheeks flushed red with humiliation. He wipes a few of them away, grinning into my shame-filled eyes. "Feel free to keep crying," he says mockingly. "The guests love it and your make-up is waterproof. You'll stay as lovely as you are right now." With a final kiss on my trembling cheek, he strolls off.

I sob hopelessly, the burning between my thighs pitching me to hysteria as I try to struggle my way free. Another group of well-dressed men and women stop in front of me, murmuring at how delectable I look and tossing coins into the fountain for good luck. I moan pleadingly through my gag, my eyes begging them to help me, but instead they laugh sadistically and stroke my naked breasts. They pull at my jeweled clamps, teasing at my long hard nipples and I yip in pain, even as the purring between my legs forces a wetness between my bound thighs. My eyes roll back and I glance up into the mirror again. I see some of them moving over to Celeste, running their hands over her netted body, toying with her as she struggles fruitlessly to escape the groping touches that surely torment her as much as they torment me.

More people are touching me now, playing with my hair, squeezing my proffered breasts, stroking my tears from my face. I try to talk through my gag again, soft unintelligible grunts that makes them giggle as I shudder beneath their teasing hands in a mixture of arousal and pain.

"What's this one named?" a man calls out, playing with my spread coral lips with a callused thumb.

A woman leans down and checks the bottom of the statue. "It's called Neptune's Captives," she says, and the group murmurs its approval at such an appropriate name for such a delightful display.