Graceful Torment

It was a strange feeling, grasp bulike a constricting t planted all around her body. She dared not to move, she felt safe in this position, supported by the clouds of her mind.

A voice echoed around her, seeming to have no body to be attached to.

"She's coming around, the drugs are wearing off."

A female tongue pierced her mind; each syllable was a knife stabbing at onscher very ciousness. The voice was mocking and cruel, devoid of emotion.

"Good, I want her to see our work."

The girl was lost, images swirled around her brain, there was a man staring at her with a benign smile on his face. Beside her was the woman, clad in a white robe but flecked with spots of blood. The man spoke.

"Do you remember us Lydia?"

Lydia? How did he know her name, she was not even sure of it herself. Every memory seemed to have drifted away.

"Where am I?"

"An interesting question don't you think Natasha? She is totally devoid of awareness and her surroundings are blurred. It seems she also does not remember anything.

He stood up; he was clearly about six foot tall, jeans hanging onto his hips. He spoke as if each word was bringing him ecstasy. The words were slurred as well; something was making him experience an extreme form of pleasure. His form approached Lydia and he knelt down to gently stroke her face.

"So beautiful, my companion has done some fine work on you," he stood up slowly. "And all done while you were awake, not a flinch." His eyes met those of Natasha, who smiled coyly. "But that was mainly due to the brilliance of the drugs, whose fumes seems to have had a strange effect on me."

As he turned around Lydia noticed amongst the haze that the man was holding a knife. It was thin and short; almost needle like in its appearance. Kneeling down again he took the blade and carefully examined Lydia's body. To her surprise she discovered that she was naked, but made no effort to conceal herself. He studied her like a book, eyes darting quickly around her skin. Assessing some vague possibilities of which she knew nothing about. Having stopped looking, he took the knife and carefully inserted it into her stomach. A thin veil of blood trickled down as the man patiently inserted the blade into her. Lydia did not look down, but was aware of what was happening. She felt pain but seemed unable to act upon it, her body kept upright by an unknown force.

"There, the last one," he smiled satisfactorily. "You may look now my dear."

Almost immediately the haze and fog that permeated her mind cleared. She gasped as a flood of pain washed over her from every angle. Like it was all rushing to one concentrated point. Terrified, she looked down and saw to her horror over twenty knives inserted into her at various angles. There was a veritable river of blood beneath her. She tried to move but the knives were pinning her in place. Only her head could move, she was a prisoner inside of her own body. The pain and the shock were too much and she saw the darkness embrace her sight. She fell into a dark sleep.

John Milton was happy with the subject, he only felt bad that she had forgotten that she had volunteered for this project. But he felt that was irrelevant, the months of planning had paid off. More importantly, they had worked.

"She received very well don't you think?" Natasha said calmly, John did not hesitate in his reply.

"Yes she did, your biological analysis was accurate." He paused and smiled proudly.

"It will be the first of the true human arts, exploring the foundations of our own physical being. Twenty knives and not a single organ damaged, only the flesh. She is an exhibition now, a monument to art."

Natasha grinned and embraced John, kissing him fully on the lips. "You're going to be famous, the first living exhibition. The first example of the graceful torment we can inflict on others. That is the name isn't it?"

He held her close and kissed her forehead. "Yes, I don't think it could be anything else." Gently pushing her back turned around.

"We'd better get cleaned up, we have blood all over ourselves. The public are arriving in a few hours and they think this all an elaborate fake. And get the cleaner to mop the artistic chamber.

John turned to walk away when Natasha stopped.

"What if they find out it's real?" John considered this for a moment and then gave his response.

"The very idea will never even cross their minds, because it is beyond their standards of understanding. We shall never be appreciated for what we are really doing." Looking at Lydia in the chamber he bit his lip.

"And sedate her, we can't have her waking up and ruining the exhibition."