EXTRACT FOR
Victims Inc.
(Author Unknown)

Extract from: "Victims Inc."



Punctually at nine-thirty, Chelsea knocked on the side door of the shop.

  The door still bore the empty screw holes and shadow in the paintwork where a trade sign had once been attached. Now it looked stained and neglected: another victim of the recession. 

  The alley in which Chelsea stood was dark and narrow and half-filled with the ungainly shapes of commercial wheelie bins, stacked cartons and bundles of old packaging, seemingly remote from the bustle and growling traffic of the high street that lay only a few paces away. Yet despite her surroundings Chelsea felt unusually alive and expectant that bright spring morning. Perhaps it was simply relief at having any work at all in hard times like these. She knew other twenty-year olds who had not worked a day since leaving school, whereas the agency paid her enough to rent her own small flat and get by in modest comfort. The downside was that she had to be prepared to take on any job in London or the South of England, however unglamorous, boring or simply odd it was. 

  There came the sound of bolts being drawn back from within and the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged and somewhat paunchy man, although his rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed brawny forearms. He had thinning grey hair and a pair of bright blue eyes that peered out through large thick glasses.

  'Good Morning, I'm Chelsea Hawkins,' Chelsea said brightly. 'You must be Mr Petruchio.'

  'That's right,' said the man cautiously. 'What do you want?'

  'I'm from the Bodzforhire Agency. Miss Timms said you wanted a girl for some promotional work.'

  Petruchio suddenly grinned and held out his hand. 'That's right. Promotional work. Nice to meet you?'

  As they shook hands, he looked Chelsea over with evident approval. 

  Her slim body was clad in jeans and white t-shirt. She had shoulder length brunette hair and a cheerful, slightly mischievous face with a high, intelligent forehead and deep hazel eyes. Her brows were bold and naturally arched in a way that suggested amusement or challenge, while her nose was slightly but attractively snubbed. Her skin was clear and very lightly tanned.

  Petruchio gave her hand an extra squeeze before letting it go. 'Well, you'd better come inside, and I'll show you what I want you to do.'

  Chelsea stepped past him into a small utility room empty except for a sink unit and fitted cupboard. Petruchio closed and bolted the door behind her, shutting out the drone of traffic. Then he led the way through to the main sales area of the shop. 

  The plate glass front windows had been whitewashed over on the insides, filling the interior with an odd half-light. Occasionally the indistinct shadows of passers-by flitted across the misty panes. A few racks of shelving still rested against the sidewalls but the room was otherwise empty except for a table bearing a box of assorted fruits and vegetables and a stack of fliers, an old bentwood chair and a curious object suspended by several nylon cords from a long bracket of rings bolted to the ceiling. The upper cord ends were gathered into a bundle and ran down from the ceiling bracket to hook about rings set in the top of a concrete counterweight block resting on the floor. 

  'Just going to start refitting this place,' Petruchio explained. 'I'm turning it into a quality greengrocery. Thought I'd so some advance advertising. I wanted a young bright face to hand out some leaflets and show kids that fruit and vegetables are healthy, in a fun way.' He indicated the strange object suspended from the ceiling. 'So, I had this costume made up?'

  A series of long foam rubber strips, painted dark green, had been shaped into a slightly curving tube about two metres high with a rounded conical top and an open base. There was an oval hole the size of a dinner plate cut in the cylinder two thirds up just as it began to taper. Two green arms jutted out horizontally from its sides, supported by cords tied to their wrists. Beside the costume stood a pair of boots swathed in matching green foam.

  Chelsea walked round the strange costume, examining it curiously, and then laughed. 'So you want me to be a cucumber girl.'

  Petruchio chuckled along with her. 'Yeah, "Chelsea the Cucumber Girl." That's good. Only you won't be as cool as one inside it. Did they tell you?' 

  'They said it might be hot work. I've got a leotard on, ready.'

  'That's fine. Well, let's see if you can get inside. Then I'll tell you what I want you to do.' 

  Putting down her bag, Chelsea slipped out of her shoes and stripped off her shirt and jeans, leaving her in ankle socks and a sleeveless black leotard.

  Petruchio had watched with interest as she undressed and now he licked his lips at the sight of her scantily clad slender body. 'I think you'll do just fine,' he said, grinning broadly. 'Maybe you'd better put the boots on first. I hope they're your size.'

  Chelsea sat on the edge of the table to pull on the boots. More painted foam rubber had been built up around conventional calf-length boots. It made them stiff and awkward to pull on, but they were comfortable enough when she finally got her feet inside them. 

  While Petruchio braced the suspended costume, Chelsea crouched down under it and stood up, wriggling her way into the tube. It was a close fit and she had to push to slide her head past a tight elasticised collar section. Finally, it popped through, and she found herself staring out of the hole cut in the side of the costume that now framed her face. There were elastic cuffs at the ends of the arm sleeves as well, but finally she pushed her hands through them. There seemed to be rods running the length of the sleeves, making them almost rigid.

  'I don't think the arms are right, Mr Petruchio,' Chelsea said, wiggling them about stiffly. 'I can hardly bend them at all.'

  Petruchio was beaming at her. 'No, that's how I designed them. There'll be no need for you to use your arms for the next few hours.' 

  Chelsea felt the first frisson of concern. 'But, how can I hand out the leaflets?'

  By now Petruchio's eyes were twinkling with anticipation and his smile had become a hungry grin. He licked his lips again. 'Oh, you won't be handing out anything to anybody, Chelsea. Do you think I'd waste my time and money hiring the use of a lovely creature like you just to send her out on the street leafleting? No, you're staying right here and we're going to play some games together.'

  With a groan of fear Chelsea tried to pull away from Petruchio. The costume swung and twisted about the cords suspending it from the ceiling. Metal tether rings showed at its shoulders as they were drawn partway out of slits in the rubber, but they all held. The ends of the cords running down to the anchor block jerked and twanged under the strain of Chelsea's struggles, but it was far too heavy for her to move. 

  'They're good strong cords,' Petruchio said. 'You can thrash about as much as you like but they won't break.' 

  Even as she struggled to escape, Petruchio took hold of the cord ends attached to the wrists of the costume arms and pulled. Chelsea felt her own arms which were trapped inside them being drawn further upward until they were halfway to vertical. Petruchio re-hitched the cords about the block, leaving her arms upraised. Frantically Chelsea tried to draw her head and hands back through the elastic cuffs, but the harder she pulled the more they seemed to tighten about her. 

  'There are rings of metal segments stitched inside the cuffs,' Petruchio explained as she struggled. 'They spread in one direction to let you push something through like funnel mouths, but they close up against each other if you try to pull it back. You were trapped from the moment you put it on.'

  'You? you let me out of this thing right now!' Chelsea said, fighting to keep the numbing fear that was creeping over her in check. 'Miss Timms knows where I am and what job I'm on. She'll come looking for me!'

  'So she will, but I can have a lot of fun with you before then and be long gone. Don't worry your pretty head. I'm not going to hurt you? well, not much. Nothing she can't clean up. You see?' he tapped the box of fruit and vegetables '?there are some things I always wanted to do with a pretty young tart and a box of greens.'

  Chelsea gulped, rolling her eyes about desperately as the cold hand of full-blown dread closed about her heart. From beyond the whitewashed windows came the muted rumble of traffic. Could anybody out on the street hear her above the noise and through that thick glass? 

  As Chelsea opened her mouth to scream for help Petruchio rammed a small, hard green apple from the assortment in the box between her lips, twisting it in until it was wedged tight between her teeth. 

  'Have an apple,' said Petruchio. 'Fruit's good for you.'

  Chelsea gurgled and chomped on the apple, but she could not spit it out nor bite through it. She had been effectively gagged.

  Petruchio smiled in approval at her desperate efforts. 'I think there's nothing better than to see a pretty girl with her mouth stuffed full,' he said, as though speaking to himself as much as to Chelsea. 'I don't want to hear you talking much but you can whimper and whine all you like. It excites me when girls make those sorts of noises, if you know what I mean. Now I've just got to add a few extras.'

  He took a long wooden rod out from under the table. It had snap hooks screwed to each end. Bending down he took hold of Chelsea's right leg, pulling out a metal ring embedded in the inner side of the ankle and clipping one end of the rod to it. Chelsea moaned and tried to kick at him with her left leg, but the bizarre costume made her too clumsy to connect properly and the padding softened the glancing impact. 

  With his free hand Petruchio casually slapped the inside of her thigh, making her yelp and flinch away. 'Naughty girl! You just behave yourself,' he said. 

  Chelsea swayed off balance causing the collar cuff to squeeze alarmingly against her throat, making her choke and gasp for breath. With a sob she struggled to stand straight again to ease the pressure. Petruchio caught hold of her left leg and clipped the other end of the rod to her left ankle ring. 

  Now she swayed in her bonds with her booted feet held spread wide and sheathed arms upraised. 

  Petruchio stood up again, peering intently at Chelsea's flushed face and wide fearful eyes as they were framed within the oval aperture of the costume that now imprisoned her. Her white teeth flashed as they were gritted about the apple gag that stretched her lips wide. A trickle of apple pulp and saliva was running out of the corners of her mouth.

  'Now you're Chelsea my Captive Cucumber Girl,' he said wiping the juice off her cheek. 'All fresh and juicy and ready to be squeezed.'

  He undid his belt and stripped off his trousers and boxer shorts, leaving him naked between waist and boot tops. A thick, stubby erection jutted out from under the overhang of his belly. Beneath it hung a heavy wrinkled ball sack fuzzed with greying pubic hair. Chelsea's eyes bulged at the sight, and she choked in sick horror.

  Petruchio appeared to relish her distress. 'That's right, Little Cucumber. You have a good look at what is going to be stuffed up you. But first I'm going to peel you bare?' 

  From the fruit box he took out a pair of scissors and snipped them in the air in front of Chelsea's face. She moaned and whimpered, shaking her head and squirming desperately in her bonds. 

  'Keep still!' Petruchio warned. 'You don't want me to cut your pretty skin, do you?'

  Chelsea snivelled, shivering in horror as her eyes followed the shining blades of the scissors.

  Petruchio snipped round the foam rubber head of the costume and tossed it aside. Then he cut down each side and pulled the body section away. Chelsea was left standing with her head and torso exposed but her arms and legs still encased in the tethered green rubber sleeves and boots. Thick nylon cords with the metal support rings tied onto them linked the sprung collar section, still closed tight about her neck, to the shoulders of the arm pieces, holding them all together. 

  Freed of the restrictive foam sheathing Chelsea twisted and squirmed once again, jerking against the cords, but she was still held fast. She gazed pleadingly at Petruchio, but she saw no sympathy in his eyes, only delight at her fear. She was his to do with as he pleased.

  'That's the rind off you, but there is still another layer to go before we get down to the flesh.'

  He stroked her leotard-sheathed body, cupping and squeezing her breasts and then sliding an exploratory hand between her parted thighs, pressing up against the tight swell of her pubic mound. All the time his bright eyes, owl-like behind their thick frames, seemed to burn into hers as he savoured her horror and helplessness. From under his belly his cock strained at attention.  

  Shame piled itself upon her fear as Chelsea realised that although her stomach was churning in sick fear her nipples were poking up hard under the thin material while there was a hot wetness growing in the fabric of her crotch. How could she react like that at a time like this? With a pitiful moan she turned her head aside and screwed up her eyes. No, this could not be happening to her! She was just an innocent girl doing an honest job. 

  Petruchio slapped her cheeks sharply, making Chelsea whimper and blink her misty eyes wide once more. 'No, don't you look away from me, Cucumber! I want to see the look on your face while I do this.'

  Trembling with fear, Chelsea looked him in the eye. Petruchio nodded. 'That's better?'

  He hooked his fingers under the shoulder straps of her leotard and lifted them so he could slide the blade of the scissors under. Two quick snips cut them through. Petruchio licked his lips, his face shiny with anticipation, and slowly drew the front of her leotard down over her breasts. As they were exposed, she could feel his hot, eager breath washing over her bare skin. 

  'Now they are a fine pair!' Petruchio exclaimed with a tremble in his voice.

  Her breasts were rounded cones set neat and high with distinctly marked and up-tilted nipples that had shamefully swollen into fulsome cones. 

  Petruchio pinched and lifted Chelsea's nipples, feeling them pulse stiffly between thumb and forefinger. Chelsea whimpered as he then cupped her hot breasts. 

  'I think tits are like the fruits of a woman's body,' Petruchio said, still kneading her mounds. 'And yours are just ripe, Cucumber. And fine budding nips too. But they could do with a bit more colour.'

  From the box he took out a thick felt-tip marker. Holding her trembling breasts firmly he carefully coloured her hard nipples a dark green. Chelsea groaned. Oh God, what kind of sick fetishist was he? Even worse, her nipples only strained harder as they were decorated. What was wrong with her? 

  When he was done Petruchio stepped back to admire his handiwork. 'Oh, yes, that's nice. Green's my favourite colour, you know. Maybe some on your cheeks as well.'

  Holding her chin, he drew two bold green circles on her cheeks and filled them in. Then with a grin he added a green blob to the tip of her nose.

  'That's better. Now let's peel the rest of you?'

  He snipped down the sides of her leotard from armpits to hips and then pulled the remains out from between her thighs. 

  Petruchio walked round Chelsea's outstretched body, admiring it from all angles while she shivered under his gaze.

  Chelsea's navel was a neat round dimple. Her buttocks were smooth, tightly curved and deeply cleft. A trimmed-back but still thick delta of dark curls framed a deep pubic mouth, with a tongue of inner labia pouting impudently from its depths. 

  'Oh yes, very nice,' he exclaimed at length. 'You look as though you eat your five portions a day. And you must exercise properly. Do you go for runs, Cucumber?'

  Dazed and fearful, Chelsea nodded automatically.

  'Good. Not like some of the lumpy girls you see on the street. Too many burgers and fries, that's the problem. Makes their skins go spotty. But yours is really nice.'

  He stroked the smooth twin mounds of her buttocks, making her shiver. 'Plenty of fruit and veg in a diet keeps you healthy and regular.' He slid a finger up between her buttocks to tickle the mouth of her anus. 'Are you regular?' 

  With a choking gasp Chelsea flinched away from his touch, swaying and twisting from the ropes, her anus clenching out of reflex.

  'Naughty!' Petruchio admonished with a grin of delight. 'Looks like I'm going to have to teach you how to behave like a good cucumber girl.'

  From the fruit and veg box he took out a huge leek with its growth of long, stiff, fibrous green leaves still attached. Holding it by its thick white stem he swished it through the air. 

  'You see, there are lots of things you can do with vegetables,' he said with a grin?