by Ryric

Chrissie peered around the corner at the van in the alley. She was pretty sure it was the same van as before, the one that had been there right before her neighbor Vanessa disappeared. As the van pulled away, Chrissie considered calling the police. She didn't really have any evidence, just intuition, so she figured the cops would blow her off unless she had something more substantial.

She ran to her car and began following the van, deciding to give up if it headed to a bad neighborhood. On the contrary, the van headed for the ritzy part of town. It pulled into a driveway with a gate, which closed behind it.

Chrissie parked a block or so away, and walked up to the wall, trying to peer over. As she stood on tiptoes, she caught a glimpse of an expensive looking manor house before she began to feel extremely dizzy. She tried to sit down but just collapsed to the ground in a heap, passing out. The gas emitted by the concealed nozzles in the wall had done the trick.

Chrissie woke up lying on a couch in a fairly well appointed bedroom.

She went to sit up and realized something was wrong; her arms were handcuffed behind her back. She then noticed that her feet were chained together as well. Rolling off the couch, she managed to get to her feet with some effort, and make her way over to the door, which was ajar. Peering out, she saw an upstairs hallway, with a light and voices coming out of a door down the hall. With short little steps, hobbled as she was by the leg cuffs, she slowly crept down the hallway make soft clanking sound along the way.

Reaching the door, she looked in to see a woman seated behind some sort of stone desk who turned to the door as if expecting her arrival. The woman looked to be in her mid to upper twenties, with blonde hair, green eyes and an attractive figure. She wore a fairly nice casual dress.

Chrissie herself was no slouch in the looks department, her shoulder length brown hair and youthful appearance having earned her more than her share of male attention.

"Ah, good morning my dear. Have a nice nap?" asked the strange woman.

Chrissie was a little confused, then pissed. "Look, what the fuck is going on here? Who are you? Why am I in handcuffs?"

"Watch your language, dear," replied the woman. "My name is Julie. I'm an artist, and you are here because we caught you trespassing. You are in handcuffs because we didn't know if you were violent. So, can you tell me why you were spying on us?"

Chrissie decided to go for it. "I saw your van pull in. The same van that kidnapped my neighbor Vanessa. I called the police before I came here, they'll be here any moment." Julie smiled.

"Silly girl, you've been out for almost 10 hours. If the police were going to come, they'd be here by now. Besides, I have about half the department in my pocket anyway. No, I don't think you're going to be rescued. Your car has already been turned into a little cube at the junkyard, and I don't intend to ever let you leave. Sorry, but you know what they say about curiosity and the cat."

Chrissie got very pale. "Please don't kill..."

"I'm not going to kill you," interrupted Julie. "In fact, your friend - you said her name was Vanessa, right - is still here. Would you like to see her?" Julie pressed a small button on her desk. "But first, we'll have to get you out of those clothes. My 'guests' may only wear what I give them."

"Huh? What the fuck are you talking abo-hey!" screamed Chrissie as she was grabbed from behind by an enormous man. Pulling out a knife, he proceeded to cut away Chrissie's shorts, t-shirt, bra and panties. He then pulled off her shoes and socks, leaving her wearing just her earrings and nothing else.

Chrissie tried to scrunch down to hide her nudity. "You fucking bastard!" Chrissie ranted at the man during the process but to no avail.

"I think we've had enough of her mouth," said Julie.

Nodding, the man pulled out a ball gag and shoved it into Chrissie's mouth, cutting off her curses in midstream. He then fasted a leather collar around her neck, and, hooking a leash to it, hoisted her to her feet. With the collar threatening to choke her, Chrissie was forced to stand there while Julie stood up and came over to inspect her.

Julie nodded approvingly at Chrissie's appearance, running her hands over the captive's athletic form, pausing to gently stroke Chrissie's soft pubic fur. Julie pulled off her dress, revealing her own naked form underneath. Chrissie saw that Julie had a tattoo of a cement mixer over her own bald pussy.

"Here's the deal. I made my fortune making and selling sculptures, but I don't sell all the sculptures I create. I have a few, um, special ones that I like to keep around. You will eventually be one, but I think I'll keep you to play with until I can't stand waiting to turn you into something any longer," explained Julie. With that, she dipped two of her fingers into her own very wet pussy, drew them out, and shoved them a little bit up Chrissie's nose. "That should give you something fun to smell," giggled Julie. "Let's take her downstairs, shall we?"

Chrissie was mortified. Here she was, naked in front of this mad woman and some strange man, handcuffed, leashed, and gagged, and forced to smell the other woman's secretions, which made her want to vomit. She'd never had any lesbian leanings and found the very idea repulsive. A tug on her leash brought her back to the here and now, as she was led out into the hall and down the stairs.

The first floor was dominated by a fountain of a girl spraying water out of her mouth and nipples.

"Do you like it?" asked Julie. "I made that one a couple years ago. I'll probably make it one of your duties to feed her."

"Feed her?" Chrissie thought. There was a live girl in there? A couple years? Years?! Panic made her bolt towards the front door. She was almost immediately brought up short by the leash, and fell to the floor choking and heaving gasps through her nose.

Julie just laughed, and went on as if nothing happened. "You'd be surprised how hard it was to rig up that plumbing before encasing her in the cement. Especially the nipples, we had to hollow out most of her breasts. Oh well, I think the effect is worth it. It's not like she's using them for anything else now anyway." With that, Julie proceeded to lead her twisted procession down a flight of concrete steps into a basement.

Chrissie saw several small tubes sticking up out of every other step. Glancing at Julie, the woman just winked! What did that mean? Reaching the basement, Chrissie saw it was made entirely of solid cement walls, some with short tubes emerging from them about head level.

In the corner was another statue of a woman, in a very strict hogtie. The position looked very painful, and Chrissie shuddered to think that there might be another poor living soul trapped inside.

"Your friend is over there," Julie pointed at one of the walls with a tube.

Chrissie looked at her captor quizzically for a moment before a sudden dreadful realization hit her. All the tubes! She ran over to the wall and put her ear up to the tube. She almost began to cry when she heard the sound of labored breathing coming from the tube. The she noticed a glint of metal below. Looking down, she saw three gold rings set into the wall, two at chest height and one at crotch level. Looking closer, she saw that there were in fact two nipples protruding slightly from the wall as well as what must be the poor girl's clit, each pierced by a golden ring.

"Ah, I see you've noticed the toys I've installed. Not too much fun with a blank wall. It's kind of an interesting study- leave a girl's only sensory input as her erogenous zones, and she'll react almost instantly to any sensations from them. I've used to condition several of my more utilitarian designs. Of course, I could never publish my findings," explained Julie. "Well, now you've seen your friend, or at least all of her you're going to. Charles here will take you to our prep room. Ta ta." With that, Julie walked up the stairs.

Charles tugged on the leash and led a despairing Chrissie into another basement room which contained an examination table, like one would find in a doctor's office. Easily picking the struggling girl up, Charles strapped her down onto the table, her feet removed from the cuffs then attached to stirrups and her hands still fastened uncomfortably behind her back.

"Now, I'm going to have to make some modifications to you for your stay here," he explained. "Don't be concerned, I am a doctor. Let's see what the sculptress wants done to you." With that, he walked over to a desk and pulled up a file on the computer sitting there.

Nodding to himself, he pulled a chair over to sit between Chrissie's spread legs. Obtaining a pair of tweezers, he began to carefully pluck out each of Chrissie's pubic hairs. It was a slow, painful process for Chrissie. He made sure to slowly tug each one until it popped out by the root. After several hours, he was finally finished and Chrissie's crotch was completely smooth. The next few days for Chrissie were a living nightmare. She lost track of time, fastened to the table in that godforsaken basement. Charles spent the next few days going over her body with a laser hair remover, permanently destroying all hair growth below her neck. She was also given humiliating enemas several times each day, as well as being kept on a liquid diet. Charles didn't talk to her much; in fact, he treated her as if she was already an object. During this whole time the gag, collar, and handcuffs had never been removed. She had been fed through a tube in the center of the gag. Most of the feeling had gone from her arms from being locked away for so long. After the hair was done, Charles retrieved a little tool that looked like a pair of pliers.

Chrissie was curious as he swabbed antiseptic around her left nipple, then he took the tool and placed the pincers on either side of that sensitive place. Squeezing, Chrissie's scream could be heard through the gag as the tool pierced a 2mm hole in her nipple and installed a metal grommet there permanently. Blood trickled down her breast as she cried and realized she would always have a gaping hole through her nipple. When Charles made to repeat the process, Chrissie's mind slowly shut down as he meticulously added more grommets to her other nipple, her ears, her nose, her clit, and 4 down each labial lip. During the piercing of her genitalia, Chrissie passed out.

Paying her no heed, Charles took some wire and threaded it through Chrissie's newly decorated genitals, sewing her up, after placing a small spiky ball inside. When he was done he melted the two ends of the wire together, leaving her unable to remove the wire without wire cutters. Injecting some anesthetic into her, Charles then removed the gag and proceeded to carefully sever all of Chrissie's vocal chords.

When Chrissie woke up, she was no longer secured to the table. Her handcuffs and collar were still in place, but she could sit up for the first time in recent memory. When she did, Julie was there, naked, waiting for her. Chrissie tried to yell at this bitch who had done all of this to her, but she couldn't make more than a pained whisper. That's when she noticed the pain in her throat as well as in her new piercings.

"Good morning. I see you've noticed that you can't speak; well, that's because we've had your voicebox removed. At least you won't have to wear the gag anymore; I'd say it was a little redundant. I've decided to wait until your new accouterments heal before placing you in your permanent position," said Julie with an evil smile. "Until then, you'll be serving me here as sort of a handmaiden. You'll have the run of the house. But if I were you, I wouldn't try to run away or call the police. Feel this?" With that Julie walked over and pushed gently against Chrissie's mons. Chrissie felt the sharp spikes dig in a little, inside her love tunnel. "That little fellow will explode if it goes more than 30 feet from the house. So if you run off, boom. If you call the police, they'll probably try and take you to a hospital. Boom again. So just stay here and be a good girl. Heal up, and we'll fix you up in no time."

The next couple of weeks saw Chrissie acting as a maid around the house. It was her duty to clean, do laundry, wash dishes, all the mundane things that needed doing. This was complicated by the fact that her handcuffs never came off. What Chrissie didn't know, was that Charles had permanently fused them shut during her unconsciousness; they were on her forever. After only a short time, she became somewhat adept at using her hands despite the restraints.

It was also her duty to feed all the living women trapped in cement. She was amazed and horrified at how many there were, all consigned to some terrible shadow of existence. The upstairs desk, for example, actually had someone trapped inside. The poor woman's mouth was positioned just right so that she would be able to orally service whoever sat at the desk. Chrissie saw Julie spend many a time moaning and writhing from the desk's ministrations. Chrissie was simply thankful that Julie hadn't asked that of her; apparently, Julie preferred woman encased in concrete to mobile ones.

There were other victims as well. There was a living bust in one of the bedrooms, the woman trapped from the waist down in a solid column. Also, there was some sort of erotic chair thing that contained a girl. Counting all the faceless tubes in the basement, there were some couple dozen overall.

All too quickly Chrissie healed. The day Charles pronounced her healed she sank to the floor and began to cry uncontrollably.

"There, there, dear," said Julie with that evil grin. "It won't be so bad. Besides, you have no control over it anyway. Let me show you what I have for you." Heading downstairs, Julie pointed at a simple 3 foot deep pit in the ground, with some loose tubes protruding from the sides. "See, I've decided that since your curiosity got you into this, you should be subjected to the most complete sensory deprivation I could devise. Once you're in there, the only thing you will know is the everpresent caress of the cold hard cement around you. And to dash your hopes of ever being rescued, I'm going to leave your little friend inside you. After a couple weeks, you'd probably miss him if we took him away anyhow. Plus, all the little holes we made in you will fill up and act to anchor you in, making it even more difficult to ever extract you. Charles, prepare her."

Charles, working with quick efficiency, inserted a catheter and anal tube, as well as air and food tubes. Easily folding Chrissie in a fetal position, he placed her on her knees in the pit. Connecting all the tubes to the ones in the sides, he them sprayed her down with a light mist of water. "To help the cement bond with you tightly," explained Julie. A couple ropes secured her to the bottom of the pit, preventing her from being able to get back up. Chrissie heard a cement mixer start somewhere, but couldn't even see out of her new, soon to be permanent, home.

After a few minutes that went by all too quickly, the first load of cold gritty concrete poured over her back and hands. She kept crying as load after muddy gray load was poured over her. After her face was covered in the mixture, it absorbed her tears. After less than an hour, her world was dark, silent, and cold. The only thing she could feel was the cold wetness pressing all around her, slowly beginning to itch as it dried. It would only take a couple weeks in the silent darkness for her to go mad. Outside Chrissie's prison, Sculptress Julie watched as Charles smoothed over the cement, blending it with the rest of the floor. No on would ever see that girl again.

She needed to go visit her desk and plan her next great masterpiece.


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