White Light

Darkness, that was all there was. She shivered, curling herself tightly in the middle of the metal sphere, touching as little of the icy surface as she could manage. By the time the sphere did open, her eyes had long adjusted to the dark. It took her a moment to figure if it was brighter than normal here, or just her eyes against the darkness. The floors were white reflected light, the ceiling one unified light. No one else was in the room, just the empty white room. The sphere was directly centred within the room, implanted into the floor. There were no tyles, no shapes or creases other than the floor meeting the wall, the wall meeting the ceiling. She shrank low inside the black shell. The shell had, at one point, been moving. Or at least, that's what she felt, or thought. There was no point in being afraid, at least that was what her father had taught her.

"Caution, never fear. Caution, never fear," she whispered.

Deep breath in through the nose, long exhale out. It was hard to suppress her thoughts, the wild theories that threatened to take control. No, that would only make things worse. Still, as much as she tried not to, a thought persisted in her mind. This room, it alone would be expensive. Who would want a room like this? Why? What else- No. Stop. Breathe. Maintaining control, that was the only thing that mattered was finding out just where she was.

There was a loud hissing sound, a horrible seeping sound that shivered through her tensed muscles. She flattened her body into the shell, burying her head under her arms. She knew, in the back of her mind that this was useless, but it was instinct. A firm grip was curled into her hair, lifting her head. Standing there, looking down at her, was the man she had seen before, in the street. He seemed an oddity, a perfectly leanly tailored purple suit in the white room. There was now not just one opening, but two. The first, into further white tunnels; the other, a well-furnished mansion hall, red carpets stretching to wood-panelled walls and exquisite antiques. This, she knew in the back of her mind, was no good sign. His smile was almost warm, but it wasn't a welcoming feeling. She had made up her mind in the dark, whoever this was she wouldn't play hot and cold. She looked up at him, avoiding his eyes. She knew that look, she'd seen it once or twice. . . .

"Who are you?" She gripped the sides of the sphere as he pulled her up. He said nothing, pulling from his pocket a small rod-like gadget, only slightly thicker than a pen. He placed it along her collarbone, curling against it to take its shape, expanding around her shoulders. It expanded down her chest, slithering down the centre of her back, nettles burrowing into her bone. "Agh," she writhed under his grip, only vaguely aware of the metal plating that scaled down her chest. "Let go- ugh!" A second rod was placed at her hips, expanding across her waist and down, stretching down her inner thigh to her knees. "Stop! Please, stop!" She felt the pins piercing her flesh, the hot liquid seeping down her stomach. She was trembling now, held up solely now by the hand curled around her wrist as the thin metal chain aligned itself down her trembling legs. Her entire body seemed to be screaming. The moment she felt the needles clipping beneath them as her legs buckled, curling and twisting violently as they slipped through the skin. Then it got worse, digging through the flesh into the bone. Everything seemed to flare red. All control over her body was lost.

"Stand up."

She couldn't speak, she could barely breathe, couldn't seem to get through to her body, couldn't stand, couldn't move, couldn't get past the shock. He lifted her further up, dropping her onto her fumbling feet.

"Stand up!" She looked down at her blood, now pooling on what was a perfectly white floor. She slipped, falling nearly all the way down just to be wrenched up again. Not only was she smeared red now, but also his silk suit.

"What a bloody mess," he sighed. It almost sounded sympathetic, almost. But she didn't trust her ears. Emotions let loose now, that could be dangerous. He wrenched his jacket off and threw it on the floor, pulling off the waistcoat and linen shirt as well. "An expensive mess too. Not sure whether it would be more expensive to replace or remove," he pondered thoughtfully. "My favourite set too, s'pose I should've known." He turned back to the girl, eyes wide, watching. Waiting. "Il congegno ha funzionato abbastanza bene però."

He kicked off his shoes and socks, before ridding himself of the stained trousers that were almost the same purple as the suit. If she wasn't under present conditions, she might have found this amusing. But instead, she stood, watching him, paralyzed. An attendant appeared from the furnished hall, gathering the clothing carefully, before disappearing again. She looked up at him from where she sat on the ground, the pain making her feel lightheaded, making her feel plain sick.

"Vieni Willow." He scooped her up, stone-still, taking in the bittersweet scent of her blood and sweat, her deep saltine musk. Her skin tingled against his bare skin as he pressed tight into his naked muscles. She could vaguely picture his cock erect below her, she could hear the slapping of his sack on his hard hot limbs. He stepped out of the soiled white room into an expansive dark hall. The stairs ahead were twisted in a perfect spiral, the inner edge of large teardrop window inner edge was painted an antique cream that once had crackled spectacularly before being glossed over, a blindingly bright white carved elegantly on the exterior. The decor was rich but tastefully elegant, in a gloomy sort of manor. Primarily, the paintings, the wood panels, the knotted tables that felt so old and rustic, dark reds and browns that gave the house a primal feeling, a hauntingly smoky fust in the air. There was a homely sense of horror trembling through her.

He walked through the halls, past what she assumed were maids, all of whom seemed completely unphased with his display. The metal coating felt a small comfort, that she was not completely exposed to these strangers, even as the fore-folded metal pressed her breasts to the ultimate point of the lifted bulges. Their white wrapped bikini tops urged their mounds up as well, stretching to black strips of silk that traced down their sides that pulled together at their tightly laced barebacks that widened as they reached their hips, the bust releasing abruptly at their frilled short skirts stuffed with layers of lace drifts propping them up high and ever slightly over their lush carpeted crotches.

The open-access she assumed was as much for him as for any guests he may have, or more so. Any and all penetration on them was most likely permitted at any moment. No, it was an invitation. One they couldn't control. The thought of that made her feel sick, even as she questioned her roll. It was plain to see she was not to be placed along with these timid downcast women from her metallic frame. Was she to be his private ecstasy? It was clear to her by their nervous glances that her position was not to be envied.