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Incapacitated

Elena rose before dawn.

After two interminable hours of incessantly squirming in her chains she had given up hope of getting back to sleep again. With practised ease she used her closely held feet to pick up the keys for her shackles from the floor and opened first the handcuffs that held her arms behind her back, then unlocked the second pair clasped around her ankles. She'd learned to sleep in restraints during her tempestuous relationship with Victor; and though it had been awkward at first, she had kept the habit even after their break-up. Tonight, however, not even the comforting embrace of the familiar steel had been able to quell her anxiety.

In the brightly lit bathroom's large mirror she critically appraised her reflection, knowing this to be the last time she would ever see herself not wearing the permanent shackles and other, more intimate accoutrements. Looking back at her from the mirror was a tall and slender, almost delicate young woman with large, somewhat frightened hazel eyes. Her face was beautiful, even despite the peculiar set of piercings that now adorned it. Elena was heartily glad they had healed so well; remembering vividly how the initial bruising and swelling had made her fear she was permanently disfigured.

Immediately after the surgery, she had looked (and felt!) like someone who had been run over by a truck. After a week or so, however, the worst had been over and the bruises had gradually started to fade, until at long last her mirror image became familiar again, although strangely transformed by her barbaric perforations and the hardware they hosted. She had spent the first few days of her recovery in Dr Lowry's clinic, diligently looked after by Lisa who tended to her wounds and taught her how to take care of the new piercings herself. Dr Lowry (or rather Greg, as Elena had come to call him) came by twice a day as well to take note of her convalescent progress and occasionally to replace the dilating pins with fresh ones. His initially cool demeanour towards her had noticeably warmed after he recognized the depth of devotion that was behind her ostensibly frivolous acceptance of Victor's conditions, just as Elena had taken a liking to the conscientious and witty personality hiding behind his abrasive exterior.

On his seventh visit Greg pronounced her sufficiently recovered to leave and had Lisa drive her home, albeit not without personally reviewing the aftercare procedures for her piercings with Elena first. She left with a sack full of medical supplies and detailed instructions of when to swab which potion onto what wound. Elena had followed the advice religiously and now her new perforations looked like they had been precision cut by a laser drill. When at last the unsightly sleeves of extraneous sheathing not fused with her skin had frayed away (helped along by generous applications of some dissolving agent), they left behind slightly silvery rims that gave the cleanly defined holes an almost otherworldly appearance.

A fortnight ago, she had discarded the last remaining dilating pins, along with the templates for her breasts. By then the healing process had long passed the stage where they were still necessary to keep the punctures open and as a matter of fact, according to Greg, even if they were left permanently voided, thanks to their lining, those punctures would never close again. Without the pins, her piercings were much less conspicuous however, a boon that Elena was most grateful for on the occasion of her rare sorties from the protective walls of her apartment. Even more importantly, with her tongue and lips rid of their distorting presence, her speech patterns had become nearly understandable once more. Although she tended to avoid exposing herself to the bewildered stares of her narrow-minded neighbours, she regularly had visitors. Victor was not amongst them, unfortunately; instead, he contended himself with having his minions shepherd her along the path he had set.

Apart from Lisa, who regularly dropped by to monitor the progress of her recovery, a hotshot solicitor was her most frequent guest. Dr Mangel had been hired by Victor to help her put her affairs in order, for as Victor's slave she would effectively cease to exist as an independent woman. Victor was to be legally appointed and act as her legal guardian in every respect and because she would not be permitted to own anything, Dr Mangel had been charged with disposing of all of her worldly possessions, or rather ‘realize her assets' as he preferred to put it. Although Elena was not privy to the details, it was clear by now that Victor had to be even wealthier than she had speculated when they first met. Everything she owned would be donated to a charity and it was her job to pick one. She felt at a loss at first, for without doubt the state of the world was such that an abundance of worthy causes vied for her attention.

In the end, she had decided on an organisation that promoted women's rights in less enlightened regions of the world. The somewhat paradoxical nature of her choice did not escape Elena. After all, she was about to renounce the very freedoms this organisation fought for so hard. Nevertheless, she felt there was a world of difference between her voluntarily surrendering her mind and body into a life of bondage, and the misfortune of being born into one. Besides, if humankind was to stand an albeit slim chance at survival, then men's atavistic struggle for supremacy would best be kept in check by women's moderation.

Elena was somewhat distressed to learn how smoothly the liquidation of her former life went. Obviously the imprint she'd left on the world was far more fleeting than she had hoped for. By now, her apartment was nearly empty of furniture but for a camp bed and completely devoid of any personal mementos. To her surprise, she was mostly glad to be rid of her belongings; particularly, when she considered the energy she had expended to acquire them in the first place. Nevertheless, she felt as if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

In comparison, the process of putting herself into Victor's custody proved to be a lot more involved. A number of different public authorities, which until this point in her life had never taken any interest in her welfare, suddenly started to worry about her. Fortunately, Victor's silver-tongued solicitor seemed to possess some kind of lucky talisman that made most difficulties disappear almost magically; the rest, Elena suspected, were taken care off by an irresistible blend of bribery and pressure from higher up. Dr Mangel, it appeared, was well-connected with the top echelon in every pertinent agency. Or maybe Victor was, although this distinction was purely academic.

Dr Mangel never let on how he personally regarded Elena's somewhat bizarre appearance and the task he was asked to discharge. His manners were impeccable and he always acted as if it was perfectly normal for a young woman to consign herself completely to a man and become his property, body and soul for all intents and purposes. Given Dr Mangel's uncanny efficiency, Elena wondered whether he had been asked to handle similar cases in the past, but his forbidding reserve quelled any impulse to ask him outright. It was too late now: Dr Mangel had made her sign the final documents the evening before, then had bid her farewell. His parting ‘Good night and good luck.' was the most amicable remark he had uttered during all of their dealings.

On the other hand, something akin to a friendship had developed between her and Lisa. On Lisa's last visit, they had talked for hours and discovered a surprising number of things they had in common. When she finally left, she had hugged Elena tightly and promised to look out for her.

The remembered hug took Elena back to the present. Regardless of Lisa's promise, this day she would have to face on her own. Predictably, the attempt to get some rest had failed miserably and so she studied her reflection once more to assess the damage the sleepless night had done to her face. She wanted to look her best when she finally presented herself to Victor as his reformed and worthy slave girl. Fortunately, the resilience of youth and her remarkable constitution minimised the impact a few hours of lost sleep had on her and a hot shower then some light touches of make up were all it took to restore her pristine beauty.

The next order of business was to get dressed. Elena was spared the agonizing dilemma of choosing an outfit to wear on this most momentous day of her life by the simple expedient that there was only one choice left: the light summer dress she had worn to all previous stations of her quest. Since the weather was still fair, this was not a problem, and anyway, in the future she expected to spend much time without a thread of clothing. With her preparations completed, all she could do was to wait.

Nervous energy kept her from sitting down and actually look at the pages of the book she pretended to read. It was on the approximately thousandth time she crossed the few steps between the camp bed and living room window that she spotted the taxi approaching down in the street. Without further thought, she grabbed her keys and after one last furtive glance around her emptied apartment, closed its door behind her forever. Only when she raced down the stairs did Elena's mind catch up with what she was doing. Her steps faltered and she paused in the doorway, suddenly beset by last minute doubts. There was still time. She could still back out and return to her former life; unscathed apart from a peculiar set of piercings she would need an explanation for, but on the other hand, she would never see Victor again. And, she would never sample the bittersweet pleasures of a life as his ultimate slave that she had begun to crave. The moment of indecision passed and Elena quickly crossed the street to the waiting taxi.

The driver's eyebrows visited his hairline when he took in her appearance, but thankfully he refrained from making a remark. Nevertheless, she felt her face flush. During the ride she sensed his appalled stare in the rear mirror more than once. Pretending not to notice, Elena crossed her legs and looked out the window.

Finally, they arrived at the metalworking shop where her quest had begun so many weeks ago and as before the parking lot was nearly deserted. Her heart sank when she failed to spot Viktor's lovingly preserved Mercedes SL-300 Old-timer anywhere. Only then did she realize how much she had hoped he would be there to accompany her on this last, pivotal step of her transformation, the consummation, or so she thought at that point, of her enslavement. Dispirited, she proceeded to the recessed entrance and rang the bell.

The door opened at once, admitting her to the reception area beyond where Alex awaited her with a huge smile on his face. This time he was impeccably groomed and attired in an obviously expensive anthracite suit; yet in her considered opinion he still looked like a nerd, albeit one who tried to pass off as a banker.

“Hi Elena, it's nice to see you again. You're even more beautiful than I remembered you to be.” Alex sounded completely sincere, as though he was unfazed by the rather bizarre sight her new facial piercings presented. He certainly was not oblivious to them; in fact, his gaze lingered on the circle of silvery dots that outlined her lips when he shook her hand in his customary effusive manner.

“Thank you, Alex. You're sweet. Your belief that my new look constitutes an improvement is not a universally shared though, I'm afraid. My cab driver, for one, disapproved.”

“Victor shares it however,” he countered, “so what if some bigot or other might think different. It mustn't bother you, must it?”

“Touché!” Elena conceded, suppressing her own nagging misgivings. “Speaking of Victor, where is he? I had hoped he'd be here.”

“He won't meet you before it's all done. He vowed not to take an active role, but to wait until you had surrendered yourself to him, completely of your own volition. In the future, there will never be any doubt in your or anyone else's mind that you choose to fulfil your destiny on your own.” Alex smiled. “Victor's monitoring your progress closely, however. And rather eagerly, I might add.”

“Then we must not keep him waiting any longer. Let's get started.”

Alex swept her an ironic bow before opening the heavy, soundproofed door to the workshop and beckoning her through. She passed him with a sideways glance.

“Nice suit, by the way.”

Alex shrugged.

“I've been asked to officiate at some function in honour of one of our more important customers this afternoon and probably won't have time to change. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn't have suited up as a business buffoon.”

He steered her through the maze of heavy machinery until they reached the room's far end. There, on a cloth covered workbench, a large assortment of lustrous, organically curved metal parts grabbed her attention. Elena immediately realized that once they were assembled around and inside her body and anchored to it by her new piercings, she would be ensnared in an inescapable web of unbreakable alloy. She was so engrossed in the sight and its implications she did not even notice the third person present until Lisa cleared her throat.

“Hi Elena!”

“Lisa! What are you doing here?” Elena exclaimed in surprise.

“I thought you might prefer to have the more ... ah ... intimate procedures done by someone who actually knows what she's doing.” Lisa nodded towards Alex. “No offence intended.”

“None taken. As long as you don't mess up the hardware, I'll be glad to defer to your superior experience with the, ah, soft parts in question,” Alex replied.

Lisa rose from the out-of-place looking medical treatment table she had been sitting on and joined them. Elena pulled her close and embraced her tightly.

“I'm really glad you're here, it means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Lisa hugged her back.

“You're welcome! I promised I'd be looking out for you.” After a long moment Elena let go and composed herself.

“Well, we'd better get started before I loose my nerve.”

“Ready when you are. I've already completed my preparations.” Lisa smiled, gesturing at the white coat she wore.

“Then let's begin,” Alex interjected. “There's a lot of work to do and we're on a tight timetable.”