Naked she lies curled fetal upon the cold, white marble, streaked in veins of
deepest red. Her silky dark hair falls in a soft wave about her face, obscuring it as she
sobs against the stone. Her nude form continuously assaulted by hard pounding blows as she
cries; coming unrelenting from every angle, she scissors her legs against the air in
useless protest: while flashes bounce around the well of her mind.
A foul taste fills the back of her constricted throat and her tongue lies thick and
heavy upon the bottom of her mouth, unresponsive and insentient. Her entire body is
uncoordinated, she feels as if drugged. Her head aches with an unremitting pulsing which
would give her no surcease as she was assailed from every angle by the steady rain of
discharge which fell upon her. Her breasts are sore, covered lightly in scratches and
several bite marks, and her belly bears long angry scratches where she had been grasped
and pulled. One ankle is swollen where she had been taken and dragged, the skin there
raised and purple, turning slowly black.
Her jet hair lies plastered upon her face as the hot water runs stinging into her
eyes and mouth, which feel raw from the hungry kisses which had been ravaged upon her
nubile young flesh. Slowly, with trembling fingers she reaches out a shaking hand and lays
a weak palm down upon the soaked cloth she had tossed aside earlier, taking it up from
where it lay upon the stone, a wet discarded thing.
When she had sunk to the floor in the huge shower room, the seven shower heads she
had turned on with a single hoarsely whispered command had clicked and whirred; tiny
servo-motors coming to life as micro-sensor packs in the floor and walls had noted her
movement, sent a signal to the entity watching over her, and the processors commanded the
shower heads to follow her descent. So now she lies amidst the angled rain from all the
shower heads in the room, spraying her down from all directions.
The room is filled with comforting mist. It obscures everything with its mild
whiteness, and cloys around her nude body, wreathing it and making her feel hidden and
safe. “Hotter,” she whispers, eyes closed.
Obligingly, the master microprocessor turns up the molecular agitator field in the
water pipe, increasing the temperature of the water as it flows from the cold tank so it
comes out first three degrees hotter than the last setting; then, after a ten second pause
in the program to allow the subject to adjust, it increases another two degrees.
“Harder, faster,” she pants. Clutching the rag to herself she swipes it down
between her thighs, and she whines.
In accordance with her wishes, the shower heads iris mostly closed, obligingly
squirting the water in smaller, more intense streams as the microprocessor increases the
overall water flow; which it regulates to divert an even, simultaneous stream from the
tanks throughout the seven shower heads which now flow even faster.
Within the walls circuity runs a continuous current through the mansion, patiently
the house computer monitors the girl's condition, running constant checks of her
hart-rate, blood flow and hormonal balance, her pulse and respiration. Patiently it
watches over her, alert to her condition it waits upon her every, tinniest wish. In repose
it simply observes, its place not to act, but to respond. And so it holds for its
opportunity, the proper command sequence, which will allow it to initiate the appropriate
programs. And it waits, for the girl to choose.
***
Lennard Finks sat there amazed, in this day and age and for an actress to boot, at
her measure of modesty. Hell most kids, especially L.A. kids (he had checked, she had
moved to L.A. when she was sixteen, her parents with her every step of the way), and most
especially wannabe actresses, were as unselfconscious about nudity and screwing as they
were about chewing gum. Or tying their vegan shoelaces. Withal, this one was excitingly
different, an anachronism in an age and in a society who pretended anachronisticism was a
desirable trait while at the same time actively reviling it, thrusting it rudely aside no
matter what they hurt or damaged in the process, leaving no place for a true timelessness.
Maybe it was that whole Eurasian thing, the way they were brought up, different, alien,
not understandable. Whatever, it excited him.
It excited him a great deal.
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