Author's Note: I'm on Deviant Art now, for anyone who wants to check me out over there.

I think it's deviantart.com. Just search for Trystl and I should come up.

Aside from a few stories that aren't posted here, I've also got some art to go with some of the stories... and a long list of nice favorite pix you might like. So check it out.

1

Eddy liked his job. He was the night security guard for Punicorp, "Pronounced pewn·ah·corp; not poon·ee·corp," as his boss used to always tell him. There were other guards, stationed at other entrances, but he'd been with the company long enough that he'd secured the coveted front desk job, which meant that he didn't have to do hourly rounds. His job was to sit at his desk alone, watching the empty rooms on the monitors and coordinating any issues with the other guards at their various stations.

Things were usually pretty quiet at night. The executives never came in to bother him, and the lab workers were just leaving as he came on shift. The janitorial staff spent a few hours cleaning the place up, and then the rest of the night he was usually free to sit around and read his books. He usually finished reading one about every two nights.

About the only interruption to his nightly reading was when the guards radioed in that they'd finished their hourly rounds and he had to make a notation in the log book.

Oh, and when Silfia O. Simmons came to pilfer a few more of her daddy's toys. Only her father was dead now-going on two years-so that made the toys hers now, didn't it. She was still sneaking in at night to take them, though. Eddy chuckled, wondering what she would select this evening. A chastity belt, perhaps; with attachable probes and wires leading off to the control box? Or maybe a grope suit? The possibilities were almost limitless, since Punicorp made virtually everything and anything the owner of a slave could want.

Eddy liked to fantasize about what he'd do with those toys if he ever had that cute little body of hers to himself. She'd been making these irregular raids since before Eddy inherited his front desk position, so he'd watched her since she was a prepubescent teenager. Eddy still remembered the first time he'd seen her, this hot little number pounding on the glass doors in her black miniskirt. Even then she'd been something special, and he'd predicted that someday she'd grow up to be quite a looker.

Somewhere along the line "someday" had come, and the way she walked, Eddy was pretty sure she knew just how great she looked. Sometimes he thought she walked like she had a stick up her ass-and he liked knowing that she probably did have one of her father's toys buzzing away. A young lady (so timid that she was still sneaking into her own factory to steal sex toys) was not the kind of person who would have sold those toys to the other girls at her school. No, she was experimenting with them herself.

That thought always gave Eddy such a ragging hard-on that it was difficult not to take care of it during one of his nightly bathroom breaks.

These days, Silfia didn't need to knock. She had her own key.

Eddy quickly put his feet on the floor and tucked his book under the counter as he heard that key turning. Then he watched as two young ladies walked across the lobby towards him.

Now that was unusual. Tonight, Silfia was with another girl. She was a little smaller, with almost white. This new girl was kind of cute, but not as beautiful as Silfia; and she was clearly nervous.

"Are you sure this will really work?" she whispered, not realizing how the sound carried when the lobby was empty.

"Of course," Silfia said in a louder, more conversational voice. "I may not run this place, but I am still the owner."

Eddy couldn't help wondering what that was about. Who was this new girl? And what relationship did she have with Silfia.

"Good evening, miss Simmons," he said with a respectful nod. "I see you've brought a friend tonight."

"Yes, Eddy. This is Kara; she wanted a tour of the factory."

"Well, like you say, night is the best time if you don't want to interrupt the production schedules."

Silfia gave him her winning smile. He was pretty sure she knew that he knew, but over the years she'd grown comfortable with that knowledge. She wasn't as timid about it as she had been before her father died. Daddy's little girl, no doubt; afraid to disappoint him if she were caught stealing his sex toys. And yet she still couldn't keep away.

~How hot is that? I'll bet she'd fuck me like a tiger.~

"As usual," Silfia said, "I'd prefer to keep this visit a secret, if you don't mind."

He nodded. "Then I won't log it in. "

"Good," Silfia said, taking her friend's hand and leading her towards the elevators.

As he always did, Eddy watched on the monitors as Silfia (and her friend) walked through the halls. He always liked to see what she was taking so he could fantasize about how she might be using it. Tonight, however, she surprised him. She lead her friend to the research laboratory. And, she had a key. She opened the door to the research section without even looking around. Then the girls walked down the hall until they came to the one room where the monitor wasn't working.

Now what were the odds of that?

The head guard on day shift had mentioned the broken monitor when he came in. Maintenance was scheduled to fix it tomorrow, and the one night it was out, Silfia O. Sullivan decided to enter that very same room.

Nothing suspicious about that at all. He wondered if it was because she knew that he watched her and didn't want him seeing whatever it was she planned to do tonight, with her girlfriend.

The research lab was where they tested the more complicated and technical toys-the one's that weren't quite ready for the public just yet. Or, in this case, the ones that had been recalled. Between them, those two categories included a lot of larger contraptions, such as the automated body modification units, interactive cybernetics, long-term restraining cages, and all sorts of full body punishment units. Cutting edge technology for the discerning (and very wealthy) slave owner.

Now what could those girls possibly want down that hall?

Eddy wondered if it would be worth giving up his left nut to get the monitor that covered those rooms working again.

He suspected it probably would be.


2

When Silfia was fifteen, a thoughtless comment from another student changed her life.

A small group of boys had cornered a girl in her class; they were intimidating her with verbal threats and physical taunting-pinching her nipples through her sweater and lifting her skirt as she tried to shy away. Unfortunately, the wall left her nowhere to go.

"Leave her alone," Silfia said.

"Make me," one of the boys replied, turning towards her in a menacing way.

"You don't frighten me," she said, "and if you don't stop, I'll tell a teacher what you're doing."

"We're just having a little fun."

"She doesn't look like she's having much fun."

The boy smirked. "She'll probably be having wet dreams about this day when she's on her death bed."

"You must be really full of yourself if you believe that."

When the boy waved off his buddies the cornered girl ran off without so much as a thank you.

"Maybe you'd like to take her place?"

"Maybe you'd like to spend a few years in jail?"

The boy shook his head. "It was just a joke. We were just having a little fun. Maybe you'd loosen up a little if daddy would give you one of his toys?"

"Maybe you'd be more pleasant to talk to if someone shoot you in the head."

"Owh, a mean little sister. I like it!" The boy chuckled, "Let me know anytime you want to help me shoot my head."

"That disgusting," Silfia said.

The boys were laughing at her as she walked away, but it wasn't the sexual innuendos that disturbed her most, it was the comments about daddy's toys. She couldn't help thinking that she probably had a pretty good idea what they'd meant by that.

Later that evening, while they were eating dinner, Silfia asked her father what kind of products his company made. It wasn't the first time she'd asked him-but it was the first time she'd asked him in quite a few years. She remember the other time. He'd given her a pat on the head and told her not to worry her pretty little head. Since then she'd often wondered if what he'd really meant to say wasn't empty little head.

This time her father's answer was a little more forth coming. He said, "Punicorp provides services and supplies for the slave sector of the economy."

"For the slave sector?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Someone has to provide for their needs, and that's what we do."

Providing for the needs of slaves... it almost sounded noble.

When she was younger, she'd never stopped to think about where her family's wealth came from. Now, the words of some jerk at school had made her curious. What exactly did it mean to provide for a slave's needs? What did her father do when he wasn't reading her a bedtime story or dandling her on his knee? A quick search of the internet told her all she needed to know. Punicorp specialized in high-tech sex toys and restraints which were primarily targeted towards wealthy slave owners; many of the devices were intended to create discomfort or even cause pain.

Silfia had been naive enough that the revelation came as quite a shock to her. It wasn't like her father was an activist in the Slavery Opposition Party, but she'd always thought of him as the kind of person who would oppose slavery.

Knowing what her father did changed her.

The first time she went for one of her nightly visits to Punicorp was less than a month later. She'd purchased some clothes with her credit card-the kind of clothes she never wore-and she'd worn them as she took a taxi to the the front doors or the Punicorp lobby.

Men were so easy to manipulate.


3

"This is going to be easy," Silfia muttered to Kara as they walked down the hall towards the research laboratories. Her friend seemed even more nervous than usual.

Silfia, by contrast, felt relatively calm. She'd never actually gone into the research wing, but she'd walked around at night often enough to know where it was; and with a duplicate of her uncle's key in her purse, she was pretty sure she'd be able to get into the right room. She'd already researched how to use the Overload Machines. There were more than half a dozen different models.

Cyber-Secretaries were commonplace these days. Some people even had them implanted at the temple for easier access, but that only worked if you had a hair flap or a hair style that left that part of the head bald. These days the surgery was safe and inexpensive. Low-end models, which employed SQID technology-or Super-conducting Quantum Interface Device-started at less than half a Standard Gold Unit and required no installation. Top of the line models ranged no higher than five or six SGUs-or Segues, as the new Gold Standard monetary units were called-and used a direct cybernetic interface which plugged right in to a dermal jack, usually located at the back of the head along the base of the hair line behind the ear.

The more advanced models were all the rage at Silfia's school. Since the CyberSec was located inside the student's head, the teacher couldn't very well make them student take it off. And those students who used them didn't need to study. All they had to do was scan the pages they were supposed to read, let the CyberSec process the information for a few minutes and they had total recall. They could party all night and still ace the test in the morning. Silfia had never really cared all that much about getting good grades. She was more interested in her CyberSec's ability to play music inside her head. The sounds seemed to resonate through her whole body, and the experience bordered on being mystical, especially when combined with sexual stimulation. The musical choir in her head was like a drug that intensified her orgasm.

Her CyberSec did other things as well. It replaced the old fashioned cell phones, remind her of appointments, elevate her mood slightly, even take pictures and video of whatever she was looking at... just to name a few uses.

Very few students at her school didn't have one.

Silfia's dermal Jack would make things easier tonight, if she decided to try out one of the Overload Machines.

"I think this is the room," Silfia said.

She wiggled the key into the lock and opened the door.

Lights came on automatically as she entered the room, and for a moment they startled her.

"At least we don't have to search for the light switch," Kara said as she looked around the small room. "I'm not sure I can say the same thing about the Oh-Em."

Silfia realized her friend was right. The room looked more like a storage room than a place to test an Overload Machine. Shelves covered much of the wall space and held all manner of strange looking instruments and small electrical things with gauges. Some mobile stands probably held some of the larger testing equipment, but it was all covered with opaque plastic, so there was no telling what they looked like without uncovering them. In one corner of the longest wall there was a small door that looked like it lead to a closet. Beside that, there was one of those small, high-school-style desks in front of a large mirror that took up about half of the wall surface, from the waist up.

Kara was looking at the mirror too. "You know what that reminds me of?" She asked.

Silfia hadn't given it much thought but, now that she did, she realized that she'd seen something very similar in movies and on TV shows.

"It looks like a two-way mirror for a police interrogation room."

Kara nodded. "Want to bet what's behind that mirror?"

Silfia walked over to the door she'd thought lead into a closet and found that it opened into another room, the same size as the one she'd just come from. In the center of this room, positioned against the far wall,was a large padded chair that looked like a cross between a dentist chair and a sexual interrogation device. The surface of the chair looked to be flat and hard, but when Silfia pressed her finger into the material it compressed under her finger, like foam. At the top of the chair there was a retractable, plastic hood with two yellow spheres that looked like they'd been cut in half and separated to make space for the slaves head. The back of the chair was narrow and smooth, angling down at a forty-five degree angle to the seat area, with an open center and two supports for the legs that looked a little like ironing boards. The open center had a place to attach something once the slave was seated; and there were two thick, flexible straps with a metal tongue like the male end of a seat-belt-buckle. Beside the seat, sticking up sort of like stirrups at a gynecology exam, were two metal cuffs that were obviously sized for the wrists.

Along one wall there were a couple of technical poster. One had instructions for connecting the various attachments and options, and the other contained information about how and where to attach different kinds of specialized testing equipment, most of which Silfia didn't even recognize.

"This is it," Silfia said, stating the obvious.

"I don't like this place," Kara grumbled, "It looks a dungeon."

Her friend was right. This room wasn't nearly as cluttered as the observation room, but there were still a few shelves with scattered bits of equipment and most of it didn't look like the kind of stuff you'd expect to see in a laboratory-unless it was the lair of a mad scientist or a deranged mental patient. Silfia had spent the past few days familiarizing herself with how to use an Overload Machine and she still couldn't entirely shake the feeling.

The idea of hooking herself up to the equipment terrified her, but it was exciting too. Even the technical name of the device "Overload Machine" seemed intentionally designed to intimidate. Maybe that's why it was commonly called an Oh-Em (pronounced like Owen, but with an -m sound instead of an -n). In any case, Silfia was determined to go through with her plans. Just because a girl was a slave didn't mean she should be forced to risk death at her master's hands.

On the other hand, the Oh-Em experience was supposed to be the ultimate sexual high; and it was one of the few things in the Punicorp arsenal that Silfia hadn't tried yet. She had a strangely irresistible urge to see what it was like. Surely it didn't kill every slave who tried it, or the FDA wouldn't have approved it in the first place. It was only when the machine was grossly abused that it became truly dangerous. The problem was that masters often liked to abuse their slaves, even the most derogatory articles she'd read admitted that much.

Still, if uncle Kirsch was using the black market to sell machines that killed people, Silfia was determined to find out and shut him down. It was still her family's name on the company, after all. She had a responsibility to make sure her customers were safe from unreasonable risks.

But she was determined to try it out first.

"Any preferences which unit I use first, once I've tied you up?" Silfia asked.

"Me," Kara sputtered, "I'm not letting you strap me into that thing."

"It was worth a try," Silfia said with a chuckle. She'd been trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't seem to have worked. "Guess you'd better start strapping me in," she said.

Kara shook her head. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes, I want to see what it feels like."

"Which unit do you want to try out first?"

"The prototype in the ultimate S-series is the one most commonly associated with fatalities," Silfia said. "We might as well start with it, if we can find it."

"Nothing like jumping right in," Kara said with a little shake of her head that clearly said she thought it was a bad idea.

"It will be fine. Just keep the settings on the lowest setting until I give you the word, then we'll slowly work our way up; until we see just how dangerous the thing really is."

After a little searching, the Girls found the right attachment sitting on a labeled shelf. It looked a little like a transforming robot caught halfway between its transition. It had a flat base with a socket on the bottom that was clearly designed to attach to the open center part of the chair; and two little arms that were the female part to the straps on the seat.

"I think we're supposed to attach this thing before you sit down," Kara said. She was reading one of the posters, and looking at the ultimate S-series trying to figure out how to attach it. "And you've obviously got to take off your clothes," she said, as she turned the ultimate S-series around so that Silfia could see what looked like two disproportionally large penises sticking out obscenely from it's tiny robot-like body. "Why don't you take off your clothes while I try to figure out how to snap this thing on?"

Silfia hadn't realized she'd have to remove her clothing-not that she hadn't been naked in front of Kara before, but usually Kara clothes were on the floor too and they were in the privacy of their own homes, not in a sterile feeling room with slightly cool air.

For a moment, she thought about asking Kara to take off her clothes too, but she rejected the idea before acting on it. This whole adventure had mostly been her idea, and now that they were in the door she didn't want to sound like she was whining. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped out of her conservatively fitted skirt. She even removed her socks and shoes. No point doing this thing half-ass.

By the time she was ready, Kara had the ultimate S-series mounted to the chair, so she carefully slid into place, guiding the machines small probes into the appropriate orifices. The back of the chair gave easily, tilting back into a forty-five degree angle, making it easy to slide into place without discomfort. Despite looking overly large for a robot of that size, the protuberances were not large compared to other phallic probes she'd used in the past. When she was in place, Silfia clicked the belts around her hips.

Suddenly the machine activated. The leg straps adjusted automatically, pulling themselves snug but not too tight-it was the surface of the machine pressing against her, however, that surprised her the most. Somehow, it formed a tight seal against her pubic mound and the probes inside her began to swell considerably, taking on a flexible, elastic quality that she hadn't anticipated.

"Whoa! Now that was kind of interesting," she said, as her body slowly began to relax again.

"The instructions say that your hands should be secured in these cuffs," Kara said as she gently guided one of Silfia's arms towards the adjustable upright on her left. The padded metal clicked closed around her wrists.

"Uh oh," Silfia said, "how do we get it open now?"

"Don't worry," her friend replied. See this little sliver on the side of the cuff? All I have to do is press to open it again."

She demonstrated by giving a light push and letting the cuff pop open again.

Silfia frowned. "I can't reach that when the cuff is closed."

"This was built for a slave," Kara said, "I don't think your supposed to be able to reach it."

"Right. Guess you'd better snap them on then."

When the cuffs were on, Silfia tried to move her arms and discovered that the adjustable uprights provided some resistance, but still allowed for a certain range of motion.

"The final step is to plug in your dermal jack-to link your CyberSec to the machine. Then I simply bring the cover down, and adjust the settings" Kara said. She frowned and Silfia could see her working up the courage to ask one more time. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," Silfia said, giving the thumbs up with both of her restrained hands. "Go ahead and power me up."


4

When Silfia's was eighteen, something happened that changed her life.

Her father didn't believe in public schools. He'd been paying for the best educational institutions that money could buy, even before she was in grade school. This did not particularly please Silfia, for it seemed like a terrible waste of money. What did she need with all this schooling when her father was rich. She wasn't sure what she would do with her life, but she knew that it wouldn't have anything to do with getting a job and working for a living. All she had to do was make it through one more year of school and she'd be free to spend all of her time going to parties and trying to pick up boys.

As it was, she tended to set her CyberSec to record mode while she daydreamed about more important stuff. Even walking from class to class, she could do pretty well operating in automatic mode, wandering around like a dimwitted zombie. If she wanted the CyberSec to stop off at a drinking fountain between classes, all she had to do was send a sub-vocal command to do so, and without missing a beat she would find herself waiting in line or cold water touching her lips.

On this particular day, however, it turned out that Silfia wasn't the only girl waiting in line; and when the girl in front of her was finished with her drink she backed up right into Silfia's leg.

Her mind cleared as she became aware of the girl's buzz-pants vibrating against her leg. Buzz pants were the name of one of the toys her father made. They came in several styles and varieties, but what they all had in common was a pair of panties with a built in vibrator of some sort.

"Whoa! Careful there," she said with a smile that was meant to be friendly. "You're going to get me all excited there, if you're not careful."

Silfia had heard that a person's face could turn red with embarrassment, but until that moment she'd never actually seen anyone's face doing it. But this girl's eyes went so wide it was almost comical and her pale face turned a delightfully pleasant shade of pink.

For all that, she covered pretty well, saying, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Trust me," Silfia replied."I know what buzz-pants are; and you've got yours cranked up pretty high."

She wouldn't have thought it possible, but the girl's face became and even brighter shade of red.

"Please," she begged, "you can't tell anyone."

"How can I tell anyone?" Silfia consoled. "I don't even know your name."

The girl frowned, obviously taking her comment the wrong way. "My name's Kara," she said, "and you don't have to know my name. You've seen my face."

"True,"Silfia said, and she couldn't help smiling despite herself. It was kind of fun to make her sweat a bit. "So?" she said, drawing out the question. "Why shouldn't I tell? I'll bet there are boys around here that would love to know what a hot little slut you are. I suspect it might even improve your social life."

"You wouldn't!"

Silfia smiled even bigger. "If you you don't want to find out, follow me into the girl's room. I have something to show you."

When she turned and walked into the lavatory, Kara followed reluctantly, hanging back just a little as Silfia carefully checked every stall to make sure the lavatory was empty. Then she walked into the one at the end and turned back to the girl who was watching her, the way a wounded sparrow might watch an approaching wolf.

"Coming?" Silfia asked.

"What do you want me to do?"

Again Silfia smiled. This was kind of mean, but it was also a lot of fun.

"You'll just have to come in here with me, if you want to find out," she said, "or would you rather I go have a talk with the principle?"

"The Principle?"

"He's usually in his office about this time of day."

Still reluctant, Kara entered the stall. Silfia closed the door behind her and began to slip out of the plaid skirt that was part of her school uniform.

"What do you want me to do?" Kara asked again. "I'm not a lesbian.'

"I suspect that's what's making this so much fun," Silfia said. She took the girls hand and began to guide it down, towards the space between her legs. "Don't worry, I won't bite... much. "

Kara's expression changed dramatically as her hand came into contact with Silfia's own vibrating buzz-pants.

"You've got one too!"

"So now there's no reason for me to tell, is there?"

"Oh my God," Kara sighed with nervous relief; and then with a quick show of anger. "You could have just told me!"

"But that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun, would it," Silfia said.

"You thought it was fun?" Kara asked, but by this time the two of them were smiling at each other.

"You have no idea! I swear I almost gave myself away. I was right on the edge of an orgasm just from thinking about it."

"Well, not just from thinking about it," Kara said, cupping her hand over Silfia's vibrator again.

"Maybe you should come over to my house after school. I'll bet we could think of all sorts of ways to entertain each other."

"I told you," Kara said, "I'm not a lesbian."

"Neither am I," Silfia replied, "but my father is the Brian Simmons."

"Am I supposed to know that name?

"Well, lets just say that those buzz-pants you're wearing were probably made in one of his factories."

"Alright," Kara said with an impressed nod. "Give me the address; I'll be there."


5

The one thing Silfia never expected was that the Overload Machine wouldn't be about simply creating physical sensations in her body, but rather, it was about creating on overall physical AND mental experience. Something that challenged both aspects of her being with equal intensity.

As the hood closed over her head, Silfia felt a slight buzz that seemed to enter her body from the back of her head and slowly spread out to her whole body-slowly at first, but then with a growing intensity that came in pulsing waves. Her senses began to fade. The world around her felt hazy and far way: sort of like looking at something through a dirty window.

Her mind didn't fade though.

She remembered what was happening to her at every moment, it was just that she no longer had any connection to her body or the world around her. For a few moments she existed in darkness, surrounded by a cold warmth that burned her skin and pierced to the bone. Her hair felt like it was on fire. She thought she could hear it sizzling for a moment; and then that too began to fade as another reality began to brighten...

...She was nineteen, standing in the living room of her father's house; and there were lots of people around her, all of them dressed in black. Some of them were crying. Silfia thought she could feel tears on her own cheek.

Yes. She wiped at her eyes and felt hot tears on raw skin.

Her father had just died in a car accident and now she was standing in this room, surrounded by a bunch of strangers, crying over a man who was almost as much of a stranger as most of them were.

"Are you all right?" Her uncle Kirsch asked.

She could feel his hand on her shoulder, almost as heavy as the weight of her sorrow... and yet she was aware that neither of these things had ever been real. She'd cried at her father's funeral, but her real sorrow hadn't been this hard to bear. It was years since she'd been close enough to her father to feel this devastated. No... she remembered the real funeral. Her sorrow had been real, just not this deep.

And uncle Kirsch had never placed his hand on her shoulder like that.

This wasn't real! And yet it seemed so life-like: very close to what actually happened; and yet different. Silfia wasn't entirely sure if she could remember which parts were which. And yet she knew that her best friend Kara was about to enter the room.

Sure enough, the door burst open and Kara walked in, wearing an embarrassingly risque goth dress. I was made with some black material but there was also white lace and red trim. What made it truly inappropriate for a funeral, however, was the open front, which revealed her panties beneath a shear, purple petticoat. It also had a purple corset that laced up the front, from below her belly button to the red bow centered in the black bodice.

It was the kind of outrageous dress you might see at a night clubs, but not at a funeral.

Silfia could feel everyone's eyes on her, as the whispered behind their hands-as if she'd been the one who'd dressed her friend and told her to come to the funeral this way. For a moment, she couldn't decide whether to go hide in the bathroom and ignore her friend or kill her-but finally she decided to walk over and take her hand in a somewhat formal greeting.

"Couldn't you find somethin a little more appropriate to wear," she hissed.

"We're at the funeral of a man who made sex toys for a living," Kara said loudly, a puzzled expression on her pale white face. "This dress is from his clothing line. What greater tribute could there be?"

"Come with me," Silfia said, "Maybe I can find something else for you to wear."

She lead her friend back to her bed room and began to riffle though her closet, but everything she had was just as bad. Many were actually worse.

Where were all of her regular clothes?

"Oh, I like this one!" Kara said as she took a hanger off the rod and held the leather straps it was holding up to Silfia's body. "This would look wonderful on you. Why don't you try it on; it's black."

"This is sick," Silfia said. "We're at my father's funeral."

"That's why you're the one who has to wear it," Kara explained. "We don't get many chances to mix our sexual games with such strong emotions, like the one's you're feeling today."

Kara pressed the leather against her body and somehow it found it's way beneath Silfia's clothes. She could feel the leather touching her bare skin and looked down to see how that could have happened when she was already wearing clothes. To her surprise, Silfia saw that Kara had already opened the front of her blouse and pushed down her skirt. The leather outfit had a strap that was designed to run between her legs. Kara was sliding the strap through some loops on a pair of dildos.

"These will take the edge off your sorrow," she said as she pushed the dildos into Silfia's orifices, then walked around to the back to buckle the strap.

Silfia grabbed the sides of her head with her hands then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling until her scalp hurt. She wanted to resist, but she couldn't. She needed those probes deep inside her. She needed Kara to turn them on and order her to go out into the living room and face all those people.

"It doesn't seem very respectful," she whispered.

It was the strongest objection she could muster.

"Nonsense," Kara said, "What could be more respectful than using the dead man's toys at his own funeral? Oh, right... powering them on."

She clicked a button and Silfia screamed as sexual energy surged into her body, radiating in all directions from her father's purring toys. What a wonderful man he was to create these things for her.

"Something tells me you needed this pretty bad," Kara said as she pinched both of Silfia's nipples between her fingers. "Are you all right?"

Her friends voice suddenly sounded panicked. Silfia felt her hand on her shoulder, shaking her as if trying to wake her from a deep sleep. Only she couldn't be doing that because Kara's hands were busy pinching her nipples.

Wait a minute... that wasn't right. She was in a small lab room, sitting in the chair of an ultimate S-series. The bedroom and the dream Kara began to fade and as her real world began to form around her again, Silfia realized that it was her own hands that were pinching her nipples, not Kara's. How was that possible with her wrists in the restraints? She opened her eyes to look and saw that the flexible restraints were apparently holding her hands in the perfect place, just above her breasts.

"Are you alright?" Kara asked again. "You were screaming."

"Yeah. I think I'm doing pretty good."

"So how was it?"

"Kind of nice in a really strange sort of way," Silfia said. She breathed a deep sigh and let her body begin to relax. It was amazing how tense she'd become. "It was pretty intense, but nice."

"It wont be nice for long," her uncle said as he came in through the door with another man holding a gun right behind him.

For a moment Silfia wondered if this weren't part of her dream, but she knew better. Whenever she remembered herself in the dream, she'd been able to tell the difference between it and reality.

"Uncle Kirsch, what are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing."

"I... I wanted to make sure these units were safe for use," Silfia said.

"Really! I had no idea you were so interested in being one of our experimental test subjects."

"I needed to know how dangerous theses units were."

"Dangerous enough to be recalled," Kirsch said with a deprecating little shrug, "That's why we're doing tests to determine what goes wrong and why people sometimes die. And more importantly, how much a person can take before they do."

"Maybe you should let me out of this thing and we can talk about that," Silfia said as she eyed the man with the gun. He was a large beefcake, with the chiseled good look of a typical Hollywood marine; and he hadn't given any sign that he intended to lower that gun of his.

"I don't think so," Kirsch said. "You wanted to see what it was like to be an experimental test subject, so I think I should give you the whole experience-just to set your mind at ease about what we do here."

"Leave her alone," Kara said.

Kirsch glanced at her and frowned; then he looked over at the beefcake. "Why don't you tie her up," He said with a nod towards Kara, "I don't think she's going to want to keep quiet while we work.

"Hey you can't do tha..."

Apparently the beefcake was as fast as he was strong. In one fluid motion, he tucked his pistol into the back of his pants, moved towards Kara and clamped one hand over her mouth while the other twisted her arm behind her back and pressed her up against the wall.

"Easy there," Kirsch said. "Don't break anything we can't fix." He turned back towards Silfia and waved abstractly at the Ultimate S-Series she was attached to. "You do realize that you're doing this all wrong?"

She frowned. "It seemed to work just fine."

"Oh the machine? Of course. But this is an experimental laboratory, you need to hook up all the testing equipment and initiate the testing protocols. There are questionnaires to answer; blood tests, psychological profiles, and, of course, legally binding permission forms to fill out. I'm sure we can dispense with a few of those, given the situation."

"What situation?" Silfia asked.

Kirsch held up a finger. "Hold that thought," he said, "I need to go get my desk and some forms."

He left the room and came back a few moments later pushing the high-school-style desk Silfia had seen earlier. On the top of the desk was a small box which he dropped to the floor before pushing the desk right next to Silfia's bondage chair.

"Now," he said, slipping into the desk and leaning closer Silfia. "Do you think you can answer some embarrassing questions truthfully, or do I have to administer a drug to help you... relax your social inhibitions?"

"I think I'll manage without the drug."

"Excellent," Kirsch said. He stood for a moment, unbuckled the leg straps and removed the Ultimate S-Series, placing it carefully on the floor beside the bondage chair. Then he reached out and took one of Silfia's nipples in one hand while he slipped his fingers into the slit between her legs with the other.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Something of a truth detector," he replied calmly as he continued to pinch and squeeze and twist her nipple.

"Ow! That fucking hurts!"

"And yet you seem to be reacting to it with a positive sexual response." He held up the finger that a moment before had been exploring inside her. To her shame it was clearly glistening with wetness. He held it to his nose and sniffed it, then stuck the finger in his mouth and smacked his lips-as if analyzing the flavor. "Not too bitter; not to sweet," he announced with satisfaction, "But it would have been interesting to compare that to what you were like before sexual stimulation."

"What kind of silly game are you playing uncle? Let me go this instant."

"Ah..." he said, as he made several notations on a very long and official looking form. "The permission form is one of those things we've dispensed with. You gave your implicit permission to this examination when you sat down, uninvited, in this chair."

"I'm sorry. It was a mistake."

"A mistake? You mean like accidentally driving 13 miles with your best friend in tow... and then accidentally unlocking a locked door and entering a room marked "official personnel only" and then accidentally sitting in a bondage chair and turning it on?" He finished making his notes and turned to Silfia with a pleasant looking smile.

She shrugged sheepishly. "Kind of, I guess."

"Don't worry, young lady," he said, as he slipped his finger back into her pussy. "This will only take a few hours. Without question, we will be finished before the night is over... Now tell me, how long have you been fantasizing about scenarios like this one?"

Suddenly she'd had enough of his probing hands; she squirmed on the seat, trying to free her hands from the cuffs and kicking out at her uncle with her feet. He jumped back a bit and shook his head at her. "If you can't sit still, like a civilized person, I'll have to bind your feet. That may give you a fetishistic thrill when you think about it, but I can promise you that I will not make your position a comfortable one."

"Fine," Silfia said, settling down.

Kirsch helped reposition her a little more comfortably on the seat, then stuck his finger back inside her.

"What's with that finger inside me," she asked, unable to restrain her curiosity despite her irritation at the casual and repeated violation.

"The testing equipment is capable of running these tests on their own,"he admitted, "but I prefer the hands on approach for this part of the evaluation process."

"Yeah," Silfia muttered, "I'm sure you do."

"Are you ready to answer the questions? Or should I loosen up your tongue with a little social lubricant."

"I suppose I could use a drink, if you have one."

"The drug in question is not as pleasant as alcohol, or so I've been told. But then this part is really for my own satisfaction, since you've already invalidated all the findings by starting the machine already."

"Alright," she said. "I'll answer you're questions if you'll tell me why you ask them. Normally I mean."

"The questions are designed to evaluate your potential as a slave: your aptitude for certain things and so forth. They can also be used to provide fodder for the interactive portions of your experience in the Overload Machine."

"I see."

"Now... Tell if you can remember the specific number of times that you've engaged in sexual intercourse?"

"I can."

"Are you a virgin?"

"No!"

"Do you regret that fact?"

"... I suppose so."

The interrogation went on like that for what seemed like a very long time-starting with questions that were rather difficult to answer because of their personal nature, and quickly getting worse.


6

It was just another party she was attending, when Silfia meet the next person to change her life.

After their first little encounter at the drinking fountain, Silfia and Kara became best friends. She provided the toys from her father's factory, and Kara provided a safe place to play with them-away from the prying eyes of her father and the house servants. Quickly they learned to trust one another with their secrets as they explored deeper and deeper into the dark fantasy of that shared world.

When Silfia's father died, surprisingly little seemed to changed.

Uncle Kirsch, who she saw no more than her father, sent her a weekly stipend that was always far more than she needed to spend-even with all of the bondage furniture she had built and the sex toys she had commissioned by specialty toy makers. There were companies online where you could purchase blueprints for almost anything. And it would have been cheaper to build the toys herself with her 3D printer, but Silfia didn't trust having her information out there on the internet. Some people still did that, but she'd learned her lessons from history. She knew that during the second revolution the internet had been one of the primary sources for finding incriminating information during the time of reckoning, when those who were responsible for creating the world's largest National debt were sold into slavery in order to save a nation. So she preferred to visit her toys makers privately, before discretely commissioning a work.

Finding suitable partners to try out those toys was a little more of a challenge.

She and Kara could always test their toys out on one another, but neither of them would admit to being into girls; so it was nice to have a male to play their games with. That sounded like it ought to be easier than it was. But finding a guy who was actually any good at playing their bondage games as a lot harder than it sounded... unless, of course, they hit the party circuit. Like minded people, dressing up like it was a Halloween party. They paraded around in front of one another, socializing over drinks or drugs. Silfia didn't like going very often, but when she did she could often find a guy capable of entertaining her for a few nights before she got bored with him.

This night, however, was destined to turn out differently.

The party was on her father's birthday; and Silfia wasn't exactly feeling in the partying mood. But Kara had talked her into going, because it was Silfia who had the invite and Kara wanted to meet a guy who was supposed to be there. So Silfia went, and Kara quickly paired off with the boy she'd wanted to meet, leaving Silfia alone to brood over what she'd lost-and gained-when her father died.

She wasn't in the mood for the party but she couldn't understand why her father's birthday had her in such a bad mood. They'd never spend a lot of time together on either of their birthdays. Still, she didn't really feel like going home to an empty house either. It surprised her that she still missed her father so much. She hadn't expected that from someone she had so little contact with. But there was something comforting about knowing that she wasn't alone in the house, after the servants had gone home. Going out on the balcony was something of a compromise: a place where she could be alone, but not all alone. The clatter and chatter from inside the main room was comforting, but she didn't have to deal with other people for a while. She could just look out at the night lights and think about her life for a while.

After a while someone came out onto the balcony, but they didn't come to the rail; they stopped a few paces away. She wasn't sure how, but Silfia sensed that this intruder was a female and she was staring. After a while the feeling became stronger, and finally she turned to face the woman.

"Did you want something," she asked, looking the young woman up and down.

She was wearing a pair of denim shorts over a slick, black, rubber suit that appeared to cover her whole body, from neck to feet. She was wearing black gloves and black, platform boots, made of leather and laced tightly. Silfia wouldn't call her beautiful-more of a girl next door face-but her body seemed to curve in all the right places and there was something captivating about the shiny suit. And the way she carried herself in it. The poor girl was obviously embarrassed to have Silfia confront her like this, and yet she had clearly been waiting for her to turn around.

"I'm sorry," she said, casting her eyes down. "I didn't want to intrude... you seemed so... intensely attuned to your own... inner space."

Silfia couldn't help smiling at the irony of that statement. "So why did you?"

"I had no choice," the girl admitted, looking up uncertainly. "I am a slave. I must do as my mistress bids me... although I must admit I did not mind so much this time."

"Oh?"

"I've been watching you too... from the moment you walked into the room. And when you came out here on the balcony... I couldn't help wondering what could make you look so sad."

Silfia frowned and said, "It's my father's birthday."

"And that makes you sad?"

"He died about a year ago. ."

"Oh," the slave said, "I'm sorry, I will leave, if you want me to?"

She didn't really look like she wanted to leave, and for some reason Silfia didn't want her to either. There was something compelling about her. She had the kind of body that was difficult to take your eyes off of-and the shiny black outfit made her look all the more alluring.

"You can stay, if you'll tell me your name," Silfia said.

"My mistress likes to call me Merry."

"Why such a plain name?" Silfia said, glancing down the length of the girl's body.

"She calls me that because I'm always so cheerful and willing."

"Ah... Merry, like the emotion, not Mary."

"Yes."

"A long time ago the word 'merry' used to mean strong. When they said Robin Hood and his band of merry men, it was because he had a small army that rivaled the army of England. They weren't a small, rag-tag group the way the movies usually depict them."

"I didn't know that. It puts a new spin on my name, though. Doesn't it? "

Silfia smiled. "So Merry. You haven't told me why your mistress sent you?"

"She wants me to invite you to her table."

"Will she punish you, if I don't go?"

"No," Merry said, "but I do not mind when my mistress punishes me."

That surprised and intrigued Silfia. "Ah! I see. So you like being punished?"

Merry smiled ever so slightly and Silfia couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or amusement.

"I prefer to please my mistress, but I entered into my servitude willingly."

"Really?" Silfia scrutinized the girl even closer. "For how long?"

"One year. I've never signed a contract longer than that."

"But you've signed more than one?"

Merry nodded.

"With the same mistress?"

"No. I've served three contracts with three different mistresses."

"You're embarrassed by that," Silfia observed, pleased by the way her question made the girl fidget. She was almost unbearably cute when she did that-which was probably why she was asking so many pointed questions.

"I have not yet found the mistress that I can give my whole heart to."

"So why sign the contracts?"

"I am compensated very generously," Merry said, "and I really do enjoy pleasing my mistresses. I will continue signing contracts until I find the one I want to be with."

"And then? No more contracts?"

"That will be up to her. But by then I expect I'll have saved up enough to retire on. She wont need to pay me, unless she wants to. My service will be sweeter, because it is voluntary."

"You're a strange girl," Silfia said with a smile.

"I'm sorry..."

"No! That was a compliment."

"Oh..."

Silfia laughed, looking back down over Merry's exquisite body for at least the tenth time. "I'm kind of strange too." She reached out hesitantly, as if to touch the girl's rubber suit. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Merry said, moving closer.

Silfia placed her hand on Merry's hip and ran her fingers up across her belly to her small, but firm breast. It was obviously pleasurable for Merry and Silfia found that she enjoyed it very much too. So much that she was reluctant to remove her hand.

"You're beautiful," Silfia said.

"So are you."

Despite her fascination with Merry, Silfia was surprised by the impact of those simple words. She'd seen beautiful women before, of course, but she'd never had any particular desire to be with them in a sexual way. Sudden the idea of exploring that possibility seemed a lot more interesting to her.

"I don't suppose your mistress would be very pleased if I took you home instead of going to meet her."

"I am not my mistress's only slave," Merry said. "If you asked, she might be willing. But I can't leave with you if she doesn't permit it."

"Well then," Silfia said, "Maybe I should go and meet your mistress."

In the end, Silfia did indeed take Merry home.

They spent a gloriously interesting evening together, exploring all sorts of things that Silfia had never thought to experience. And it turned out that Merry was not only enthusiastically obedient, she was also quite skillful. She made Silfia feel things that she'd never felt before.

They made love long into the night, until they were both nearly exhausted, and then they lay in each other arms before eventually falling asleep. "Maybe your mistress knew the old meaning of your name after all," Silfia said softly, as she breathed in the girls essence.

The next afternoon, when they finally woke, Merry made them both a delicious breakfast, which they ate together. Then, quite reluctant, Silfia called a taxi and paid to send Merry home.

Over the next few days, Silfia thought about her often. She found it difficult to think about anything else.

"What's wrong?" Kara finally asked when it had become clear that Silfia wasn't listening to her.

"Nothing's wrong! I'm just..."

"What?"

"I don't know... I think maybe I'm in love."

"That's wonderful," Kara said, taking her hands and bouncing up and down on the bed like they were still school girls. " You've meet a guy?"

"Well, not exactly."

Kara's face fell, in surprise. "You've meet a... girl?"

Silfia couldn't keep the smile off her face. "I have," she said.

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Merry, and I meet her a few nights ago, at that party you forced me to go to. She's a slave girl and she already has a mistress, but her contract will be expiring soon. I've been thinking about offering to buy out her existing contract, and give her a new one."

"That's wonderful," Kara said, a little less enthusiastically. "I don't know what to say."

"Lets wait until we see what happens," Silfia said, "I still have to talk to my lawyer about trying to buy her. Until then, there's no way to really know if Mistress Walters will be willing to sell her."

"Denika Walters?"

"Do you know her?"

"Yes," Kara said, "And I saw you talking to her at the party, but..."

"...Good! Maybe you can put in a good word for me?"

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Silfia spoke to her lawyer about making the offer-but she couldn't stand to wait, so she began redecorating some rooms. Making the perfect little bedroom for Merry to live in.

When the lawyer got back to her, however, his voice was somber.

"She doesn't want to do it?" she guessed.

"It's not that," he said.

"Then what?"

"Silfia," he said, taking her hand. "Merry is dead."

"Dead!" She couldn't believe it. "How? What happened?"

"Apparently she overdosed on an Overload Machine."


7

"Nooo! Plesz stopf! I don't wanh ta duh dis," Silfia said, through the ring gag in her mouth, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She was sitting beside Merry's coffin, which was recessed into the floor. And the poor girl was wearing the same black outfit she'd been wearing when they meet, only now it was burn and melted in numerous places places. Silfia could smell burnt flesh, and beneath the occasional holes, she could see burnt flesh, black and crisp between bits of red festering wounds.

Silfia couldn't take her eyes off the dead girl's body, even though Kara was busy trying to kiss her. "Let me take your mind off your loss," her friend said, as she rubbed eagerly against Silfia's clit with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other.

"No, plesz," Silfia begged. The incessant rubbing had long ago become unpleasant, and the pinching of her nipples felt like a jagged sliver of metal being pushed into her erect nub. She wasn't sure which was worse, the misery of knowing that Merry was dead, or the agony when Kara touched her body. But there was nothing that she could do to stop any of it. Silfia was tethered to a chair, right beside Merry's coffin, and her eyes had been clamped open with little metal springs that fit uncomfortably under the eyelids. Kara was sitting on her lap as she licked and sucked on her face, but something else was holding Silfia's head, so she couldn't look away from Merry's coffin.

"You're not paying attention to me," Kara said sulkily. She blew a small puff of air directly into Silfia's eyes and more tears streamed down her face. She bounced up and down a few times on Silfia's lap, and the movement caused the large and spiny probe that filled her ass to grate up and down inside her. For a moment Silfia couldn't understand what it was, but then she remembered how the chair was fixed with a large dildo.

"What's the problem?" Kara asked, licking more tears from her face. "Aren't you having any fun?"

"I think you're going to kill her," another, softer Kara voice said from somewhere far away.

"That's the idea," an equally far away Kirsch voice said.

"But not so quickly," the Kara voice said. "I thought she'd be allowed to savor the experience for a while."

"Very well, I'll bring her down," Kirsch said, "We should probably say goodbye to her anyway, before we leave."

As had happened before, the world around her slowly began to fade-as if a window screen had been put in front of her face and then slowly pulled away, until all she could see was the screen. Only this screen was the real world.

Silfia was still breathing heavily from the after affects of her induced dream. She still could feel her heart pounding and the shadowy ghost of pain in her breast from dream-Kara's last mauling.

"Welcome back," Kirsch said as he pushed the plastic screen cover away from Silfia's face.

She could feel a slight, cooling breeze as the plate was lifted, and realized that her whole body was drenched in the sickly sweet stench of her own sweat-as potent as any gymnasium she'd ever been in.

"I see you're not dead," he said, looking down on her with mild curiosity. "I've managed to get a lot of excellent test data from your last little session. I doubt I'll get a whole lot I can use from another one. And, frankly, I don't think you'd survive another one like that."

The dream wasn't real, Silfia thought with relief. She let out a shaky breath and managed to croak, "I think I'm ready to be let out of this thing."

"Yeah," Kirsch said with an amused little snort. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen."

Silfia's eyes widened in fear, but her body was too exhausted to do much more.

"You see, the things is... it took a lot of patience and planning to get you into this chair."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after that little slutfriend of yours died, it took nearly six months of Kara dropping hints and trying to make you feel guilty-not to mention me leaving paperwork and keys lying around-before you finally took the bait. Seems like all that would have be a unfortunate waste of time, if I was just going to let you go free again."

Silfia looked over at Kara, and the expression on her friend's face was confirmation enough that what Kirsch was saying was true.

"Why?" She asked her friend.

Kara frowned. "I loved you," she said.

Silfia shook her head, confused. "But..."

"If you were going to fall in love with another girl, it should have been me!"

"You can't control who you fall in love with."

"Maybe not, but when I told your uncle what was going on, he made me a generous offer... if I was willing to help him out a little."

"Unfortunate that we had to use your girlfriend like that," Kirsch said. "She was a rather fetching creature. But like they say, some times you have to break a few eggs, if you want to make an omelet."

"You killed her," Silfia said.

"If it's any consolation, I don't believe she suffered quite as much as you're going to."

"You fucking bastard!" Silfia said, pulling against the flexible restraints.

"Now, now," her uncle said, "we wouldn't want you to have a heart attack before we started up the machines again. I"m sure this new knowledge will provide just the fodder needed to push you over the edge once we put you under again."

"No!" Silfia screamed, as he reached towards the controls. "You can't do this to me! You'll never get away with it!"

"Ha!" He laughed, "Never get away with it? Why, we have the death of your lover, who your lawyer will testify that you were so in love with that you tried to purchase the remainder of her contract. And you did cry when he told you. Not to mention Kara, who will testify about your obsession with these machines. That will lead the detectives to your many internet searches. And I've already taken the liberty of disabling the recording machines for this section, so there won't be any record of what happened in here."

"What about the security guard? He saw Kara and I come in together."

"It's a rather unfortunate story," Kirsch said. "Kara sneaked into the laboratory, at your urging, because you were so insistent on trying an Overload Machine. But when I came into the office after hours, to get something I forgot, I as about to discover the two of you. So Kara, like the good friend she is, graciously volunteered to giving herself up so that I wouldn't realize that you were here. She may receive a reprimand for her foolishness, but she wasn't breaking the law. Technically, after all, you are the owner of this building. And I certainly won't press charges to add to her difficulties in this time of grief. No, given the long history of your friendship, when you're found dead on this machine- the police will simply assume the obvious, which is that you were experimenting with dangerous test equipment. And you accidentally killed herself. "

"You bastard," Silfia said again, but she was beginning to realize that she was going to die soon, and the knowledge-along with her recent experiences inside the machine, had left her feeling too drained to fight the inevitable.

"Are there any other questions, before I tuck you in for the last time?"

"Fuck you!"

"Don't worry," he said as he turned up the machine to very close to it's highest setting. "When the researchers discover you on Monday morning, I'll be sure to give you the lavish funeral that you deserve."


8

Eddy was a little surprised, to say the least, when Kirsch Simmons entered the building with another, very large man, a short time after his niece. The CEO almost never came in to work this late, but he never went anywhere without his security guard. Curious, Eddy watched them carefully as Mr. Simmons made his way through the building. He went to his office first and took something out of his desk. Then he made his way to the research division, where the monitors weren't working.

"Damn," Eddy muttered. Of all the times for a monitor to be out. He pushed the power button.

No picture. Then he checked the power cord to make sure it was plugged it. It was a long shot, he knew, but he wanted to see what happened if Mr. Simmon's ran into his niece.

The cord seemed fine-but maybe it was something as simple as not being plugged it. He followed the cord down the power strip and sure enough it wasn't plugged in. The ground prong, however, had been badly bent to one side. He looked through the drawers, searching for a pair of pliers. Nothing. So he took two coins out of his picket, placed them on either side of the prong and squeezed them as tight as he could while trying to bend the prong back into place. It straightened a little, just enough to force the plug into the socket.

He hit the power button and the monitor came on.

What he saw was shocking.

Mr. Simmons left the building with Silfia's friend in tow, his hand on her upper arm as if he thought she might try to make a break for it at any moment. But Eddy knew better. He'd not only been watching the monitor, he'd had enough good sense to check to see if it was recording; and put in a fresh recording disk when he discovered that it wasn't.

After they'd left the building, Eddy turned the monitor back on. He'd turned it off when he saw them coming, just in case. But now he turned it back on to continue watching the show. Silfia looked pretty frazzled. He didn't know how much longer she could last. And he didn't know what to do.

He read about slaves dying from being kept on those Overload Machines too long? And that was obviously the point. With Silfia out of the way, Mr. Simmons probably stood to inherit the business. He wouldn't just be the CEO anymore.

Surely, that was something worth killing his niece over.

Eddy didn't like the thought of leaving Silfia to die like that, but he didn't like the idea of having Mr. Simmons send his goon after him either. If he was willing to kill his own niece, what would a nosy security guard mean to him?

On the other hand, this was probably something he'd be willing to pay a lot of money to keep quiet. If Eddy quite his job and went into hiding, he might be able to transact a bribe and get a nice little retirement payday out of this gig.

If only that didn't mean that Silfia had to die!

Earlier he'd thought he might be willing to give up his left nut, just to see what she planned to do to herself in the research laboratory. How much more would he be willing to give up to have her as his own personal slave? No one knew where she was, obviously, or Mr. Simmons wouldn't have been willing to leaver her on the machine to die.

Eddy and his brother Ted had fantasized about an opportunity like this. A chance to kidnap a beautiful woman and keep her locked in their basement for a while. Except this time it was for real. If he did this, it would be for real, not some childish, shared fantasy.

Then again, Silfia obviously liked playing with her toys-and she liked it rough, or she wouldn't have tried to tangle with an Overload Machine. Maybe, if he and Ted gave her safe harbor, she would be willing to be their slave, voluntarily. A girl who was saved from a fate like this might be inclined to generosity when she was back in control. Would she go straight to the police or would she need a place to hide out for a while, as she planned her revenge. Letting them wonder where and when she was going to strike might be more fun than simply turning them in?

Eddy picked up the phone and began dialing a number, but he put the phone back down with the number halfway dialed. If he was going to do this, he'd have to be smart. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the same number again.

It rang for a long time, before his brother picked up and said, "Who the fuck is calling at this time of night?"

"Hey Ted, it's me. Sorry about calling so late."

"Jesus Christ, man! What do you want? It's like four in the morning."

"I know but... Do you remember that fantasy we used to have about what we might do to certain... girls... if the right opportunity ever came up?"

"Yeah, I remember." Ted said, a little angrily. "What's this all about?"

"Well, if you were really serious about that, I think I might have that opportunity. Can you bring your van over to the Punicorp building where I work? You remember where it's at, right?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"So? Can you get here in the next ten minutes."

"You're serious? You're not shitting me? This isn't some prank..."

"No, it's real!" Eddy said. "The target is not only extremely hot, she's disgustingly wealthy..."

"Alright," Ted said. "Alright, I'll be there. Just give me fifteen minutes.