The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus) Read Online Free PDF Page A

give a casual wave as the cart sped past and received a flashing grin in response. The girls’ glossy, straining buttocks beneath their flying tails were already mottled with scarlet whip marks.
    When the carriage had disappeared again round the curve of the track, Vanessa turned back the way she had come. The whole thing was so incredible, so blatant …
    Muffled snorts and throaty whinnies were emerging from the open door of the stable, not unlike the sounds made by real horses. Curious, Vanessa peered inside.
    The remaining half-dozen pony-girls were tossing their manes and turning their heads and long false ears to one another as they exchanged their odd medley of sounds. Vanessa imagined she could hear slurred words under the animal whines and snuffles. A language of their own forced upon them by their bits and masks, perhaps?
    Despite her pity and disgust, Vanessa knew what she had to do. Stepping quietly into the stable, she played her toolbox camera over the pony-girls, recording their blind and helpless condition.
    After a minute, one of the women gave what sounded disturbingly like an apologetic neigh, and backed away from the stall door, evidently fighting the resistance of the taut twin tethers clipped to her collar. Vanessa moved closer and peered over the low door. The tethers ran through pulleys to weights suspended on either side of the stall door.
    The woman had squatted down over a small, lidless toilet bowl built into the corner of the stall. With her legs splayed wide to brace against the pull of her tethers, she voided her bladder, the stream of urine hissing from between bare pink depilated pubic lips.
    When she was done, a jet of water spouted from the bowl in the manner of a bidet, washing her groin clean. She stood up, wiggling her hips to shake the droplets from her pubes, then allowed the tethers to pull her back to her former position, announcing her return to her companions’ strange conversation with a snort.
    Vanessa hastily stepped back, lowering her camera, feeling guilty at the intimate scene she had recorded. A vague idea of rescuing the women, or at least reassuring them that help was close at hand, passed through her mind. No, she could not risk giving herself away. Yet it was so hard to do nothing.
    Suddenly she felt she could not breathe. She stumbled out of the stable and back towards the lift block. It was too much to take in. She had to get out of here.
    Then she took hold of herself. No, she had to explore a little further, to get as much damning evidence as she could about the people exploiting these helpless women. Taking a deep breath, she continued on.
    In front of the lift once more, she wondered where to go next.
    The long, wide central corridor seemed somehow too daunting, so she took the right-hand path past the chalets. Who lived in them, she wondered? The carriage driver, perhaps, and the blond man she had seen herding the girl chain into the lift? And how many others like them? Whoever they were they would surely be made to suffer.
    The green track also crossed the end of this corridor. As she heard the carriage approaching again she turned quickly left into a slightly narrower path.
    It looked disconcertingly like a quiet mews fronted by a double row of small shops, each having identical large low windows, sheltered by a striped awning, with a single recessed door set beside it. Most of the windows were dark, a few had internal curtains drawn across and three further along were illuminated. Each window, she now saw, had a pair of loudspeakers mounted in its upper corners, with a switch mounted on the lintel between them. Presumably this was so that onlookers could both see and hear what went on inside the rooms if they chose. She could make out nothing inside the darkened ‘shops’, as the glass seemed slightly misty. Cautiously she made her way along to the nearest illuminated window and peered inside.
    The room was bare except for a single low bed, its foot almost