No 4

I will be No. 4!

When the lights were turned on I saw the three girls immediately. Recognized the faces from photographs in the newspapers. Those were the girls reported missing during the last two months. At first glance I thought them dead. But then I saw their eyes move. They looked down at me with a sad expression. Not that there were much expression, but if there were, then sadness must be the word. They were standing upright – each girl in her own separate glass display cases – stark naked - supported by some kind of shop stand. You know the kind of shop stands with a steel rod coming up from the foot plate and going into the bottom of the mannequin. – I wondered.. But soon I should learn! - These stands had supports for legs and arms as well – each rod ending in a steel cuff surrounding an ankle or wrist. Finaly there was a similar steel band around the girls neck. From my angle I couldn't see how the contraption was built, but it was not hard to figure out anyway. It kept the girl posed. All three girls were immobile. Apparently were the eyes the only body part, they could move.

I lay on a table just below the three display cases. I couldn't move much myself as I was tied in a foetal position laying on my left side. I could not see what was behind me. But in front of me I could easily see the three missing girl on display – and also a fourth empty display case. And the last were apparently to me ...

- - -

I don't know how long time had passed since I was kidnapped... - No! - 'abducted' is the right word. There has not been demands for ransom or anything since the other girls disappeared. This guy is not doing it for money. It certainly appears as if he is a collector of some kind. He came up to me from behind when I was walking home from visiting my parents. Before I could react he held a cloth smelling of strong chemicals up to my face, and I passed out. But before it went black I got a glimpse of a well trimmed dark hair with some grey. I tried of course to fight but he encased me in strong arms. And then it was over.

Next thing I remember only half awake I was tied up in this position and he was putting me into a small wooden box. I say small because it was just barely I could fit in. And I didn't help much – why should I?  When he had me stuffed into the small space that did not leave much room for air, he provided a tube with a mouthpiece – 'That is if you want to breathe!" He said.

Not that I had much of a choice – and of course I wanted to breathe. Then he put on the lid and it went dark. I could hear how he secured the lid with screws. This lid would not come off easily. I lay there only half concious in total dark breathing through a tube not knowing what to come. I cried a little – no I cried a lot. And I peed in my panties. Couldn't help it. Why should this happen to me? I thought I was going to die. But then again why would he allow me to breathe if he was going to bury me in the box later?

Then I felt I was lifted and placed with a bump on a hard surface. Moments later I heard the sound of a car engine being started and then felt the vibrations. I was in a car. Probably a pickup or something. The car began to run and after a few bumps and turns, the movement was stable - almost rocking like a cradle, and I fell asleep.

- - -

I woke up by the unscrewing of the lid. It was dark and I was pulled out of the box letting go of the mouthpiece. I was carried through a door and down a staircase and into a room even darker. When I was placed on the table I opened my mouth to yell at my captor. But as if he expected that, he said in a mild voice: "You can scream now if you want – but nobody will hear you but me and I don't think you want to piss me off." There was some undefined threat in the words, so I just asked with a trembling voice: "What do you want from me?"

"Patience my dear child, patience! - You will soon enough find out!" he said, and then he switched on the lights.

- - -

As I said, my first view was of the three girls mounted on stands in separate glass display cases like an exhibition. Recognizing the girls and their condition, it was not hard to figure out the purpose of the fourth glass case. I was terrified! - At that moment I would have preferred to be killed in the first place. Why didn't I spit out the mouthpiece?

On the socket below the glass door of each display case was placed a brass plate with numbers. The leftmost had number 1 - then came number 2... "my display case" was number 4 – so I was supposed to be exhibition item number 4. Trying to comprehend what I was looking at, I then discovered  some tubes between the girls legs – almost hidden through the way they were posed - but all three definitely had them. I guess they were not meant to be seen. They also had tubes fixed to their left hand going up behind them to something looking like IV bags.

In the meantime my captor had been busy behind my back. I could hear him open drawers, rattle with some tools and start up a computer. I was panicking. I didn't want to be part of his collection. It didn't make sense to plead for my release though. From what I have witnessed until now I would be a serious threat to him if I was set free. Besides, he wouldn't have caught me and brought me here just to let me go. But what could I do? I started crying again. The three girls looked down at me with their sad expressions. I think I fainted again.

Anyway, when I opened my eyes again the man was bended over me touching me here and there. He lifted my eyelid with a finger and pointed a penlight at my right eye. He bent further down to examine it. Then he turned my head up so he could do the same thing with my left eye. He was examining me like a a doctor. That didn't make me comfortable at all. He nodded to himself as if he approved my condition. He drew himself up and I could for the first time see my captor almost fully. He was an older man – at least fifty. Maybe even sixty. He looked  a little like my grandpa, but in a far better shape and probably a little younger. Hard to tell. His hair was more grey than my first impression and he had a nice tan – the proof of many hours in the sun. He was wearing a grey business suit, white shirt and a silk necktie in down toned nuances of bordeaux and grey. All in all he looked like a reliable business executive. Might even actually be a doctor. I decided to call him Mr. Grey.

He had said something. I shook my head and concentrated on listening looking up at him. "I said, you will feel a litle prick don't be frightened." - I started crying again. Every step was in the wrong direction and I was helpless. He pushed my head slightly forward and I felt the prick from a needle and then the pressure from whatever he injected in me. "That was it!" he said. "Now you are going to relax!"

I didn't want to relax – I wanted to run for my life! - But I was tied and helpless. He was looking at his wristwatch – taking time for the effect I guess – I didn't know what to expect but after a very short time – maybe a minute I felt like heat spreading in my body but not only that – there was some tickling as well – a little like when your leg has gone to sleep after too long in the same position – but not that unpleasant though. Maybe more like prickling. I don't know how to explain it. After another few seconds my head fell down to rest on the table. I had not been aware of the tension in my muscles. But as Mr. Grey had said I relaxed.

I tried to lift my head again. - I couldn't! - I tried to wiggle my toes. - I couldn't! - I wanted to cry again... But I couldn't even do that. - Not only did the drug he injected make me relax – it took away the control of my body. It dawned on me that the very same thing had happened to the other three girls. That's why they couldn't move, even though they were still alive. I wanted to sleep and never wake up again. But I couldn't even control my eyelids. The blinking was on automatic. I could move my eyeballs. That was about it. I could see. I could think and I suppose my organs still worked or I would really die. This was turning out to be worst of nightmares – only it was for real!

Mr. Grey took action. I had registered that he had started taking notes. Every now and then he scribled something on a scratch pad. But now he put that away and began to untie me. That was strange. I could feel where he touched me, and I could feel the ropes loosen, but that didn't change my situation at all. I was unable to use my freedom. After a while he rolled me over and pulled the rope out under me and threw it away. Then he rolled me to my back. My head tilted to the right so now I could see what had been behind me until now. The opposite wall was closer than I thought and it was mostly one big mirror. In the mirror I could see myself on the table lying like a ragdoll. I could see Mr. Grey moving around the table arranging my limbs. And in the background I could see the three girls in their cabinets.

"Girl, you have wet yourself!" - Mr. Grey didn't sound surprised at all – just stating facts. He began to undress me. My shoes were lost when he forced me into the box. Now he removed my skirt and my pantyhose and then the panties. He lifted up in my legs like my mom did when I was a little girl. He looked like I really liked the process, and I just layed there. Next came the jacket and the shirt. To get it off me he lifted my head and pulled both out under me helped my arms through the sleeves and my head through the neckline. Last item was my bra which he undid more or less the same way. But even more carefully. In the process, he kind of caressed my breasts or maybe he just measured them – I could only see his expression through the wall mirror, but I think I saw approval. Maybe not. I don't know.

Anyway now I was totally naked. And I couldn't imagine myself more vulnerable. But I discovered another thing. I sensed the smell of his aftershave. Not a brand I was familiar with. But pleasant and probably expensive. A light scent not too heavy. I had to start collecting the things he hadn't taken away from me!

Mr. Grey left the table and I could hear he poured water and opened and closed a drawer. He returned with a wash bowl, a towel, a sponge and a piece of toilet soap. He started to wash me. I mean wash me like I have not been washed since I was a baby. Probably not even then. This guy washed me everywhere. Every little detail on my body met the sponge and his examining look. Between my toes. Under my toe nails. The hollow of the knee. Groin. Anus. Labia. Vagina opening. Urethra. Clitoris. Everything thoroughly to the extreme and I would say unnecessary. I mean I take my showers every morning and brush my teeth twice a day. I remove my makeup carefully every evening before bedtime. So this cleansing struck me as weird. And I could feel it all! I couldn't move, but I could certainly feel.

I wish I could claim that it didn't touch me – didn't get to me, but that would be a lie. I am very sensitive in my private area. My body reacted on its own – I had nothing to say there. - When my legs reacted to some reflexes I could of course feel it and tried to repeat the movement at will. But no way. I was not in charge. When he touched my private parts I was kind of glad the reactions were not mine. I think if had been able to blush I would have been red as a lobster. Anyway I was glad he replaced the water and sponge before he went on with my upper body. Me I do it in a different order. Totally different.

At a point he procured some cleanser and removed my make up before he washed my face in every corner and a few more. He removed my nail polish too, and brushed my teeth. The hangers in my ears were detached. Those and my wrist watch disappeared into the waste basket beside the table. All my belongings were in there now. Nothing left except a very very clean me. He had dried me with a towel on the way up over my body, but apparently not to his satisfaction, when he had removed the water and everything else he switched on a heat lamp over the table. In a few seconds it felt like my skin was shrinking. It was like being sunburned in record time. He turned me over a few times so I became dry as a desert all over. In the meantime he wrote down some more notes. I was an object a guinea-pig for his experiments. When he switched off the heat lamp I felt that my face would crack. But he brought out a bottle of oil – I suppose it was body oil but it had no smell at all and when he massaged it into my skin it became soft and smooth again.

Mr. Grey left me for a while, and in the mirror I could see he was working on the computer in another part of the room. I was left with my thoughts. In the mirror I could also my three sisters. I was beginning to consider them my "sisters" as we apparently had a common destiny. I was beginning to give up hope of rescue. These girls had been missing for some times already, and from what I had learned in the news and newspapers, the police had absolutely no trace. Not a clue. The first girl disappeared two months ago, and the police said she most likely had just ran off with a boyfriend or something. When the next two girls disappeared they were not so certain. But still they had no scene of the crime. No idea what had really happened. No dead bodies. No rape victims. No nothing. Just vanishing in thin air.

And that goes for me too I guess. I am number 4! - I couldn't help wondering if there would be more victims. For now there was only one empty space on the wall, but there were certainly space for more furniture if he so wanted.. I could see myself lying there on the table paralyzed but not stiff at all – it looked more like I was sleeping with open eyes totally relaxed. Arms and legs spred out like he left them. Head turned right facing the huge mirror. - By the way. - What could be the purpose with the mirror. If me and my sisters were supposed to be an exhibition the spectator would not look in the mirror. I wondered if it was intended that the captives were looking at themselves - and maybe each other. But what crooked mind could think of that as fun. Or maybe it was some kind of torment?

Torture? It didn't make sense to me at all. I started to compare my body and my sisters'. My skin was shiny from the body oil. And theirs were too. My face looked pale as he had removed my make up and my hair was a mess. My sisters looked much better. Hair set in different styles – not very fancy but not boring either – and they wore makeup – again different styles and colors but only enough to accent their features. Like in daily use. But if they had gone through the same treatment as I had – then Mr. Grey must have done their faces! - And their hair. So he wanted us to look good!

Still I felt like being a test specimen lying here on my back on the table with arms and legs spread out - My sisters and I are the same age. I know from the papers that they are 20,19 and 19. I am 20 myself. I wonder if our age is important. Everything else seems different. Sister No. 1 is blond with a round face and freckles. No. 2 is auburn with narrow face and nicely tanned - no bikini marks. No. 3 has long coal black hair set up in a pony tail. She is the asian type. All three are very beautiful. My hair is red with natural curls which I spend a lot of time combing before I can show myself in public. And I would never leave the appartment without putting on at least a little eyeliner and lipstick. So I lay there feeling like Cinderella. Wishing for the mice and birds to come to rescue. Or being found by a fairy tale prince. Well at least some local policemen...

My dreams were interrupted by Mr. Grey touching me. Rearranging my limbs. My legs only little apart. My arms down along the side. My head supported so I now looked up to admire the ceiling. Nothing much to admire though. Only concrete and some tubes and cables. And of course the lamps. Standing at my feet I could hardly see him when he spoke, maybe to himself: "Ok, we are ready for next step!"

Then he placed a pole with IV bags beside me. I could see the bags, but not read the text on them. Foreign language I guess. Now I was terrified again and could not show it. I was not prepared when he pushed a needle in the back of my left hand. It didn't hurt that much. It was more not knowing what he was doing to me. When he injected me first time I felt something spread in my veins – where after I lost muscle control. This time I didn't feel a thing. He fastened the syringe. Connected the IV lines. Adjusted the things. Actually I was unable to see what he was doing and I wouldn't probably understand anyway. I probably wouldn't like it either.

As if he read my thoughts he bent down over me and whispered: "Don't worry girl, this is only a feeding bag. We can't have you die from starvation, can we?"  He straightened up. - "But what goes in must come out!"

He raised my knees and spread my legs. I suppose I must have looked like an invitation. But I can assure you that I did not invite the intruders he came up with now. First he cleaned me up between my legs – again! - then he rubbed my private parts – lubricated me, I guess. Have I mentioned that I am sensitive down there? Then he pushed a catheter into my urethra. When he had fastened it he did something similar to my anus. Pushed a tube up to my rectum and secured it. Then he connected tubes to the catheters and to bags on the IV rod - too low for me to see though, but I could imagine I was about to be equipped like my sisters.

Suddenly I felt a relief as to empty the bladder and realized that it was a good while since I had been to the loo. Mr. Grey looked interested at the receiving bag I knew would be there. And then he began to take notes again. Sometimes watching the different parts of the plumbing. Finally he smiled exclaiming: "Everything is working perfect! - Let's get you upright!" - He straightened my legs and raised my upper body while he supported my head. He turned me to the right so I was again facing the mirror. My arms hanging useless down and my lower legs hanging down from the edge of the table.

Now I could see he had brought another mannequin stand. I call it a mannequin stand because it is the closest comparison I can think of. Only this contraption was much more complicated. The foot piece was round and made of shiny steel. The rod comming up from the foot was steel likewise. Steel arms protruded in all directions - all adjustable - and about 100 cm over floor level - the rod was forming a curve and was mounted with a saddle and a rubber dildo. The rod continued up with even more adjustable steel arms and ended in a padded steel collar.

"I have already adjusted the seat and the supports for your measurements!" He looked at me almost as if he was excusing. "And I have lubricated properly – so there should be no problems!" - Then he lifted me high up and lowered me onto the dildo thing. It slid in without any resistance. Kind of filled me. And my bottom came to rest on the saddle. My armpits now rested on two of the supports. He pulled my head back and fitted the collar around my neck and locked it.

Now I was sitting right up like my sisters. My arms and legs were dangling from their joints, but Mr. Grey was busy with the tubes from my urethra and anus. He pulled the IV rod closer and fixed the tubes to some hooks. When he was content, he fixed my ankles to the supports and then came the wrist and elbow supports. And I was locked into the contraption. I could see it happen in the mirror. Mr. Grey took a step back scanning me up and down with a smile as if he had created a work of art. Then he turned away and picked up his scratch pad to take more notes. I didn't feel like being a work of art. I felt like a test object. A violated, intimidated and humiliated test object. Still I had some strange feelings from my vagina. My body seemed to adapt to the intruder without problems. The feeling was scaring but not unpleasant. I tried to ignore it. Or my brain did. My body had its own ideas.

I was still staring at my image in the mirror when, Mr. Grey put down his writing materials. He brought over a tray with several bottles, boxes and cans. He placed it near my rack. And I could see it was all makeup stuff. There were foundation, concealer, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick and lipgloss. And sponges and brushes. I could see different colors and brands of everything. This tray must be worth a fortune. Standing in front of me he began working with my face. I could not see much in the mirror. He was taking my view.

Still I could feel how he applied cream foundation. It seemed that I was going to get the full treatment. He added blush. He worked some with my eyes including mascara. And lipstick too. All the time he was very concentrated and careful almost meticulous. So I was a little curious to see the result when he finally cleaned up the tray and seemed satisfied. He removed the tray and returned with a hairbrush. And I got a glimpse in the mirror. He had done a good job. Not overdone, but I defnitely looked pretty. I had got some color in my face and my eyes seemed bigger. My lips were a bright tone of red. Not too much though, but somehow making them pout. Together with the big eyes and blush on my cheeks I looked a little doll-like. - I thought, that if I ever had the chance to lay my own makeup again I wouldn't mind trying to get this effect!

When he laid my makeup he had tied my hair back in a knot. - He worked for a while with the brush, all the time supporting my head to compensate for the pulls and tugs. It can't have been easy. But finally my hair was tied up in two high pigtails. When he stepped back to examine the result, I saw my hair set up like that of a doll I once had. Controlled and wild at the same time. The cascades of red curls leaving the white hair bands almost surrounded my face. Cute! - With the perfect skin and this hairstyle I looked juvenile. Or even like a doll. I wondered! - My sisters also seemed made perfect in a way. Maybe the Mr. Grey played with dolls. Living immobile dolls. I was horrified . Still I could not get my eyes from the mirror. I had become doll number 4. What would be next. Would he play dressing games? Would he use me... us as lovedolls? Would he invite friends to come and look at his doll collection? - My mind raced with my fear and misgivings. And I could do nothing about it!

Mr. Grey lifted me and my stand up on a pallet carrier and placed the IV rod next to me. Then I was rolled to the front of the empty cabinet which he unlocked and opened. I was looking into the empty space and discovered some plugs and connections I didn't see before. Then he rotated me making me face the mirror again. And in the mirror I could see him bend down into the glass display cases connecting and adjusting things. My IV bags were placed high on the backwall. He plugged some electrical wiring into my stand. He straightened up looking at his handywork nodding to himself. Then he grabbed the centre steel pole in my contraption and pulled it out of the foot piece. Pushing the pallet carrier away with his foot, he placed the rod with me and tubes and wiring in the middle of the cabinet and lowered it down into a socket I had not seen in the first place.

The interior was pich black except for the bags, tubes and wiring. And me of course...

He restructured the first until you could hardly see them if you were not looking for them. Except regarding the bags. They were fully visible over my left shoulder. Mr. Grey took a remote control out of his pocket. He pressed a button and the dildo woke up. And my body reacted, it tickled and crawled everywhere in my body. My hands would like to move down to touch and rub my clit. Which of course they couldn't. Even my brain betrayed me. And I had an orgasm that can best be described as a firework of colors and emotions.

I almost passed out again. When I focused again. Mr. Grey was watching me smiling. “You didn't mind that, right?”

Then he began examining me again. Pulse, temperature and so on. All the time taking notes and nodding to himself. - Before he closed the cabinet door and turned the key, I saw in the mirror that he adjusted something on the other IV bag. The one that was not “just a feeding bag” - the one with the bluish stuff, that he didnt tell me about. And while he walked away to his computer I felt something like when he injected me first time: tickling, prickling and warmth spread in my body – only this time much weaker. And I detected that I was not quite as angry and afraid as I was a minute ago.

- - -

My sisters and I were watching the mirror. What else were there to do? I had gotten beautiful sisters. I must admit that. But would this be the rest of my life. A doll on display in a secret exhibition. Without the possibility of physically changing my destiny. I suppose I looked just as sad as my sisters...

04.01.12