She moaned hoarsely as she clawed at consciousness, awareness coming to her in bursts of images that were foreign and unknown to her. She realized that she wasshivering, became aware of a numbing cold as it slowly seeped into her bones and tuggedat her soul.
Is this death?
She wondered as she continued to struggle for sanity. Her thoughtsseemed distant and foreign, as if she had become fragmented and un-whole, and she began to struggle desperately for familiar words to long forgotten prayers in an effort tocalm her soul.The cobwebs that clung to the edges of reason slowly began to fade and withawareness came something she could only label as fear. She tried to open her eyes butthey were frustratingly heavy and unresponsive, much like the rest of her body. She probed her thoughts, trying to remember something – anything – that would tell her whathad happened. She had a vague memory of studying in the great halls of the library, butwhat had she been studying? There was a familiar feeling of anxiety, as if whatever shehad found among the shelves of long forgotten books had been something dreadful,something entirely evil and not of this world.“You are awake,” an unpleasant voice rasped, and the sound of it made her headache more as she choked back a sob. “This is unexpected. It would have been better hadyour mind not been so determined to comprehend.”As he spoke, she heard the sound of something mechanical whir to life - a smallgenerator, perhaps? It popped and sizzled and then there was the sensation of warmthoverhead – a light, no doubt - as the faint, crisp odor of rapidly warming electronics filledthe air around her.“The procedure will unpleasant, but it will not last long. An unfortunatenecessity, I’m afraid.”She tried to move her lips and form sound, to ask him who he was and where shehad been taken.“Do not fight the weave of spirit – allow yourself to accept the nothingness of thedark sleep. It will be easier for you if you do.” She became aware of his hands upon her and she had to fight back the bile that began to rise in her throat. The feel of his skinagainst hers was unnatural and repulsive, a slickened clamminess that brought to mind animage of something gelatinous and oozing.The electronic hum continued in the background and then the table upon whichshe was secured was moving, tilting back as the section beneath her hips began to retractin upon itself. Her legs and feet were secured within steel mesh stirrups that woundtightly around, up to mid thigh, the combination of restraints preventing her from fallingforward. Amid a series of clicks and grinding gears, her legs were spread apart and
pushed back towards her hips, and as the table moved and adjusted she became all toaware of how exposed she was, realizing for the first time that she was completely naked.What madness was this?! That she should awaken to such a state sent her spiraling into a new wave of panic and despair. In all her 20 years on earth, she hadnever left the seclusion of the walls of the convent where she’d been abandoned as a babe, and as such had known only a life of modesty and prayer. No one save herself,God, and Sister Marguerite - who was their nurse-practitioner - had ever seen her withoutclothing. And now this!“No, please,” she managed to croak out weakly, surprised at the sound of her voice when at last it came. Her words seemed thick and foreign, and she groanedweakly. She felt the unpleasant coolness of his hand against her throat, stroking andsqueezing as he spoke to her, his words low and guttural. Perhaps it was that he meant tocomfort her in his own, odd way, for she sensed no true malice from him. He was a tooland little more, and it seemed to distress him that she was wholly conscious and aware of what was happening.“It is far too late for that, Giselle Moncrief, daughter of the house of Moradeib. Itis the desire of my Mistress to save you, not hurt you, but still, it is most unfortunateindeed that you will be awake. Yes, yes, most unfortunate. Mistress will not be happy atall.” There was one last, hissing, mechanical squeal and then the table was still. She began to cry, her chest growing heavy as her throat began to burn and constrict.Abruptly and with no warning, something cold and hard was pressed against her opening, and before she had time to process what was happening she felt herself being penetrated, her small channel forced open to accept the cold metal object. She cried outin pain as it stretched her, struggling desperately against the invasion. It moved inside of her, pushing, violating, expanding in size, then retreating completely only to force its wayinto her once more. With each stroke the object pushed deeper, seeming to swell witheach penetration, until small barbs suddenly emerged and bit deep into tender flesh,holding it firmly in place deep inside of her. As her muscles contracted and foughtagainst the painful intrusion, there was a loud hissing noise and then something piercedher sensitive nub, increasing her pain ten-fold as a needle slid effortlessly into theswollen flesh to inject its insidious poison.She began to scream then, begging desperately for the emptiness of death as thelower half of her body throbbed and convulsed, racked with a pain unlike anything shehad ever known. She felt the sticky warmth of blood as it began to trickle down alongher thighs, and she began to wretch and heave as her flesh was torn and stretched beyondits limits.“Relax, daughter of Moradieb, and this will go easier for you.” His voice seemedto come from a great distance now, hollow and empty against her ears. She onlywhimpered pitifully in response as the horrific machine continue to rape and invade, it’ssharp spines piercing her flesh and pumping it’s foulness deep into her most intimate
walls. With a last, heaving gasp of relief, she embraced the nothingness of unconsciousness as it once again took hold, blissfully succumbing to the emptiness andhoping against hope that it was death come at last to take her home.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The small alarm clock that sat on the well-used teaching desk began to chime,signaling the end of class. Susan jumped, startled and not a little disappointed. She had been overly engrossed in the professor’s lecture, fascinated as always by the imagery hecreated as he spoke, conjuring up scenes of ancient apothecaries mixing potions deepwithin castle walls in defiance of the church’s edicts. Like Galileo, they had been bornwell before their time, the enlightened theologians and alchemists pursuing the arts of potions and spells in secret defiance of an oppressive religion.“Don’t forget,” Professor Rutherford called out as the students began hurriedly packing up satchels and backpacks, shoving papers and books into overly cramped spacesas they began to move towards the narrow aisles of the lecture hall. “The deadline tosubmit your theses is next Friday! I suggest you make good use of your three dayweekend, as these will count towards 35% of your final grade!” He had to shout abovethe excited chatter as the first year grad students began to mingle and break off intofamiliar groups, the students eagerly discussing plans for the upcoming holiday weekend.Susan moved apart from the others and made her way down towards Professor Rutherford.“Professor Rutherford,” she said as she approached, and he turned to smile at her, pale blue eyes lighting up as he realized who had called out to him.“Susan, my favorite student, how are you?” he responded, his voice carrying justa hint of an accent that belied his true European heritage. Like the students in his class,he was now gathering up notes and books, slipping them easily inside the leather satchelhe carried. His movements were slow and deliberate and she watched, overly fascinated by strong hands that moved with ease and confidence. He was far too handsome to be ahistory professor, she thought for the hundredth time. Tall, dark and decidedly male, hecould have easily been the latest infatuation of some love-starved female, fresh from between the pages of some god-awful Harlequin romance book.She felt her face grow hot as she realized he was now staring back at her, onecorner of his mouth lifted up in amusement as he watched her watching him.“I, er, I’m fine,” she stammered, trying to collect her thoughts. “I was wondering,when, I mean, well, I thought maybe - ” she struggled against her natural shyness,looking for the words. Why was it every time she spoke with him, she behaved like someschool girl ninny! She had an IQ of well over 140 for goodness sake, yet still she foundherself stammering like a teen-ager when she was in front of him.
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