The Archivist of PermaMod

Somewhere there is a magical realm populated by an immortal race, the Wom. When they grow tired of life, they sleep for years where they dream of an existence in a world very much like our own, a life-dream. In those dreams they fight and discover and struggle and love and fret about the day that the dream ends.

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Saengdao was installed in her observation cage. Generally, no objects are attributed as being the possession of a slave, for that is what Saengdao was. This cage, however, was built specifically with Saengdao in mind. She was the only individual who had ever been inside it. And so, all considered it to be hers.

It was a small cage, flat on the bottom and rounded up top. She knelt on a comfortable cushion set into the base. There was no room to stand.

As her job required no use of her hands, they were cuffed out of the way, behind her back. Saengdao wore nothing beside her bonds.

The cage was affixed to an articulating mechanical arm which allowed a mistress to position the cage in a wide array of heights and angles, much like a device found in a dental office on Earth in the modern day. Indeed, the cage was moved about quite often to allow Saengdao to see precisely what was going on in the room. It was her job to observe and then to report step by step notes as to the procedures that occurred in the room.

She had to concentrate and memorize and then, later, chronicle the things that were done to the slaves who were brought to the room and fastened securely to the reclining chair. Saengdao was the Archivist of PermaMod.

Though her mouth was free of any sort of encumbrance, Saengdao was not permitted to speak. She knew that if she uttered any sound at all, she would quickly become an active participant of proceedings in the room - no longer an observer, but instead lashed to the chair and modified. Needless to say, Saengdao was very disciplined in her embrace of silence.

The day’s victim was escorted into the room on a leash by her mistress and a nurse. She was secured to the operating chair - naked, with wrists and ankles cuffed tightly to the chair.

The mistress kissed her slave on the forehead like a child and whispered, “Love you.”

“I love you too, Mistress,” the slave replied. She had a debilitating lisp, so every ‘s’ came forth as a ‘th’.

Saengdao knew this slave. It was Helen. She had been strapped in the chair five months before to be pierced and measured. She did not show any signs of distress. Saengdao assumed that Helen did not know what was about to occur.

The mistress and nurse retreated from the room, leaving Helen waiting patiently - Saengdao’s cage positioned above for the best view. Helen’s eyes scanned the room for a moment before settling on Saengdao.

It would be hard to say for certain, but if not Helen, then certainly some other modified slave must have wondered exactly how Saengdao could possibly perform her job as official observer of the proceedings. After all, her eyes were covered by metallic shields which spanned from above her brows down to her cheekbones. Certainly, the sturdy bolts that seemed to attach the shields to Saengdao’s face could have been props to create a certain sense of theater. But they were not.

“Hello,” Helen said.

Saengdao remained perfectly still, watching.

“Are you gagged too?” Helen asked. “I’m getting a gag today. Mistress says that I have no restraint with my voice. I talk and talk and can never remember to keep quiet.”

Helen was extremely beautiful. Strikingly beautiful. Her face was perfect. Long dark red hair framed immaculate bone structure and large wide green eyes. If one were to scan a crowd, her’s would be the face that one would remember most upon reflection.

Saengdao had known women with Helen’s hair and eyes during the course of her last life-dream. Often, their complexion would be freckled. In contrast, Helen’s was an even pale with no mark or blemish at all. Glowing. Pure as the day she was born.

“...It’s always been an issue for me…” Helen lisped. “In fact, my last owner grew so tired of my talking that she abandoned me -  chained me by my wrist to a tree in the woods. I was there for over a year until Mistress found me. She had to cut off my hand to claim me from the tree. Holy Goddess! That hurt a lot! But, I’m glad she did that instead of chopping down my tree. I loved that tree. I guess you could say, after all that time, I was attached to it in more ways than one. Ha ha...”

As she spoke, Helen flexed her right wrist back and forth. Of course, her hand had grown back. The loss of a hand would be catastrophic during a life-dream. Not so, in this world where all were divine immortal.

Saengdao remembered Helen’s previous visit, of course. It was her job to remember all details of the proceedings in this room. And though she always documented her observations for the organization’s historical archive, that process did not remove the operating sessions from her memory.

She remembered that, on her previous visit, Helen had gotten six studs pierced through her tongue - two rows of three running back along the length of her tongue. Also, there was an array of eight studs around Helen’s mouth.

Despite the sparkling jewels that tipped the lip studs, Saengdao felt that they detracted from Helen’s natural beauty. Saengdao’s opinion or feelings were utterly immaterial.

“Wearing the gag will help me remember to be quiet at times when, otherwise, I may accidentally and inadvertently start to speak. I hope that the gag is comfortable. Did you get your gag here?” Helen continued. It was clear to Saengdao that Helen was unaware of Madame M’s reputation - of her area of magical expertise.

The art of body modification was a challenge in a world populated by divine immortals. Any brand, any scar, any hole, any cut made into the flesh would heal completely in due course leaving no indication of the violence that had occurred. That was why a powerful witch like Madame M was needed. For, with proper planning and spellcraft, modifications could be made. And depending on the witch’s skill and imagination, the modifications that could be made were limitless - perhaps, even, if desired, extreme.

Madame M called her facility “PermaMod”. The idea is that she created permanent body modifications. But, what does “permanent” even mean when you are Wom - a divine immortal being? For example, if one is “permanently” pinned to a boulder by an unbreakable steel staple, inevitably, over the millennia, the boulder will erode to sand and the immortal will again be free.

Even if there is the smallest fraction of a chance that something will occur, in the face of eternity that something will eventually occur. And everything has at the least a tiny possibility of occurring. So, what is “permanent”?

Saengdao had been the archivist of PermaMod for a brief two years - ever since her awakening from her life-dream. Would she be the archivist permanently? Well… no. Certainly, though, in a thousand years she may still be confined to her cages, observing and documenting operations. Maybe a million years. Regardless, even for an immortal divine being, during the passage of time a thousand years would feel like forever.

Even for a divine immortal the word “permanent” could still carry the weight of eternity.

“...I can’t imagine though, how much MORE I’ll speak when the gag is removed after being silenced for a period of time and so many thoughts filling my head waiting in line to be expressed…”

And this is how Saengdao knew that Helen was unaware of the modification procedures that were about to take place.

Saengdao closed her eyes for a moment to suppress a tear from forming. Tears trapped behind her eye-grates caused her vision to be blurry. Her job dictated that she could not allow some activity to go unnoticed - to go undocumented - due to blurry vision. She was expected to be close to perfect in her descriptions. Mistakes were not allowed. She had to satisfy her audience or she would quickly be replaced. There were worse fates than being the permanent archivist of PermaMod.

Helen blathered on for a while and, in due course, Helen’s mistress returned followed by Dr Bitch and a slave nurse pushing a covered tray on a cart. Helen’s mistress whispered encouragement to Helen acting as though this visit was of little consequence. Meanwhile, Dr Bitch reached up and grabbed Saengdao’s cage, jerking it back and forth a little more roughly than necessary. She positioned the cage to give Saengdao an optimal viewing spot, peering over the Dr’s right shoulder. The slave nurse knelt on a pad near the door.

“Good morning, Dr,” Helen said after kissing her mistress goodbye and watching her retreat from the room. “The weather is nice outside today. I hope that I won’t take up too much of your time so you can get out and enjoy yourself. Mistress told me that she has the utmost confidence in your skills and so I am completely at ease today. I’m not worried about anything at all.”

Dr Bitch ignored Helen. She reached over to a tray and picked up a somewhat oval-shaped black metal hoop. “Nurse, can you put the slave’s hair in a ponytail? I need it out of the way.”

“Sorry,” Helen said. The doctor’s curt manner was starting to make her twitch and pull at her bonds. “I should have pulled it back before I arrived. But with the gentle breeze today, it felt so nice to let it hang free. And as I have learned over the years, it’s always good to appreciate the little things…”

The nurse rose up from her pad and attended to Helen’s hair, finally capturing it in a short knotted rope that she pulled from around her wrist. Once complete she returned to her cart and began searching through a tray of surgical tools. Helen glanced over at the nurse for a second before returning her attention to the Dr.

“Close your mouth,” the Dr said. She held the metal oval hoop up above Helen’s face.

“Sorry, yes ma’am,” Helen said and pressed her lips together tightly.

The oval had been deformed so that it slid tightly around Helen’s face. The cold metal cupped Helen’s chin, passed just in front of her ears and high up on her forehead just above her hairline.

The doctor dragged her thumb along the edges of the hoop around Helen’s face. “Mallet,” she said, holding out her hand toward the nurse.

The nurse efficiently grabbed a small rubber-headed hammer and passed it to the doctor, as Helen watched with bugged-out eyes.

The doctor began to tap the mallet at points on the hoop - generally, switching from side-to-side. Helen flinched with every tap. Her hands twisted in her bonds and her naked breasts heaved as she hyperventilated. The doctor was careful and practiced though. Not once did her swing land foul or impact Helen’s pleasant face in any way.

After a thorough evaluation, Dr Bitch set the mallet aside. “Can you open your mouth?” she asked.

Helen could only lisp through her clenched jaw. “Not at all. It feels quite tight.” Saengdao observed as Helen contorted the muscles of her face trying her best, unsuccessfully, to slip from the hoop.

“Your teeth?” the doctor asked. “Can you get any space between your teeth?”

Helen’s lips curled open and closed and her cheek muscles flexed, but her teeth remained firmly pressed together. The hoop was a tight fit. “I feel like this is a much more elaborate gag than what I had envisioned. That is, of course, if this is a part of the gag. Very tight. Very efficient. I’m sure Mistress will enjoy this design...”

After inspecting the fit around the edges of Helen’s face a little longer, Dr Bitch wrapped her fingers behind Helen’s neck and began to push up on the hoop with her thumbs. It was obvious that the Doctor had to exert some degree of force before the hoop popped away from Helen’s head once again.

“Whooh! That was a perfect fit, I must say,” Helen said, settling down a little.

The nurse was holding out a short, sharp paring knife for the doctor, but she was waved off.

“I think I’ve grown tired of her prattling. Let’s fit the appliance first,” Dr Bitch said to the nurse.

“Sorry. Sometimes I don’t even realize that the things that I am thinking, I am actually saying out loud,” Helen apologized.

“Yeah? Shut up!” the doctor sneered. Helen’s mouth snapped closed, her skin reddened, and she pressed her head backward firmly into the headrest.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Dr Bitch smirked: “The world will soon be a better place.”

<>--+-

The nurse wheeled her cart closer to the reclining chair holding Helen’s bound form. She pulled a small fabric from the top of the cart to reveal an array of shiny, metal hardware and surgical tools. Helen tried to sit up to get a good view of the contents of the cart, but Dr Bitch pushed her head back down into the headrest. “You need to stay still or you may get hurt.”

Dr Bitch had a way of expressing herself so that her words always came across as a threat.

The nurse selected a set of forceps and gave it to Dr Bitch. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Saengdao watched as Helen complied. Six steel balls tipped the barbells passing from bottom to top of her tongue. The doctor clamped the textured tips of the forceps securely on Helen’s tongue and locked them. “Hold these.”

The nurse stepped up to the chair and received the forceps, gently extracting Helen’s tongue to its greatest extent.

Dr Bitch reached up and grabbed Saengdao’s cage, jerking it around a little to make sure that the slave nurse did not obscure the archivist’s ability to clearly observe the activities taking place.

Helen, somehow forgetting that her tongue was otherwise occupied, started to say something, which produced little more than unintelligible grunting. She quickly remembered to silence herself.

The nurse handed a new tool to Dr Bitch which she levered into Helen’s mouth, capturing one of the rear steel balls. She squeezed the handles firmly until the barbell snapped in half with a distinct pop. She dropped the ball in a metal pan, then fished out the barbell from the underside of Helen’s tongue, the nurse twisting and pulling the forceps as necessary. Soon, the last of the tongue piercings were snapped in half and dropped into the pan with a clatter.

Dr Bitch then proceeded to remove the studs from Helen’s lips until she was devoid of all jewelry. For a moment, Dr Bitch held Helen’s head cupped in her hands, turning Helen’s face slowly side-to-side.

“Oh, wow! It’s incredible how much difference my mouth feels without all that metal.” Helen’s lisp was gone - her enunciation was perfectly clear.

“Nurse, please leave for five minutes,” Dr Bitch said, smiling.

“Oh, sorry,” Helen said quietly. “I keep forgetting to not talk.” She watched as the slave nurse quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Well,” Dr Bitch stated, “It is certainly clear why your mistress has chosen this path for you. You are utterly incapable of staying quiet. And this is a good solution to remedy that. Tell me… Do you love your mistress?”

“Oh, yes!” Helen said, smiling. “Of course!”

“You must be a wonderful submissive.” Dr Bitch stepped back from the operating chair.

“I serve her and she protects me,” Helen said.

Dr Bitch grabbed the archivist’s cage and maneuvered it so that it was positioned directly in front of Helen’s face. “Saengdao is a submissive too. In fact, she is a perfect submissive. Do you know why?”

Saengdao continued to kneel impassively in her cage - her arms pinioned behind and her face seemingly directed at Helen.

“She’s been here as the archivist since she climbed from the mausoleum after awakening from her last life-dream. Madame M immediately recognized her brilliance and her submissiveness. And, I guess you could say, took her under her wing. Notice how she stays perfectly quiet?”

Dr Bitch reached through the bars of Saengdao’s cage, quickly pushing fingers into Saengdao’s mouth, levering three knuckles between her upper and lower teeth. “See? She doesn’t have a gag.” The doctor aggessively flicked Saengdao’s tongue back and forth with her middle finger until drool began to slide down Saengdao’s chin. “No tongue piercings. She knows her station and performs her duties... well enough.”

Dr Bitch extracted her fingers and wiped the saliva on Saengdao’s shoulder. The archivist rocked gently back and forth, but otherwise remained expressionless.

“Saengdao has always hated me. She is probably really pissed off right now - that I stuck my fingers in her mouth. But you’d never know… Can you tell what her current emotions are?”

Helen shook her head back and forth - her eyes were wide open and her jaw tense.

“Hm… Actually, I don’t even know anymore…” Dr Bitch continued. “Maybe she is not angry. Maybe any form of human contact thrills her now… It’s hard to say…” The doctor smiled a wicked grin. “I did that to her.” She pointed to the metal plates mounted over Saengdao’s eyes.

“Madame M could train this slave to be passive… to remain quiet… to hold the muscles of her face so utterly still… But Madame M recognized that she would never be able to train Saengdao to control her eyes. She had… She has… She has the most expressive eyes. She could sweep through an entire spectrum of emotion with the simple narrowing of her eyes. She could communicate a wealth of information with just a gaze.

“Perhaps a lesser Domme would have tried to beat her or something to remove the personality from the slave. Madame M, though, knew immediately what to do.” Dr Bitch pushed the arm of the cage to reposition Saengdao a little higher up again. “Just cover them up, she told me… just cover up her eyes.”

Dr Bitch gently stroked Helen’s cheek. “So, I did. Those plates are actually bolted in place by drilling screws into her skull. As the screws went in, the tips spread out.” The doctor demonstrated by slowly spreading her fingers wider until her palm was completely open. “They will never come out without breaking her skull into pieces.”

“Don’t worry, though. She can see perfectly well. There are thousands of tiny holes in the metal that allow light into her eyes. She can see everything. And, if I could place a light source behind the plates somehow, you would easily recognize the illusion of impermeability and be able to look upon her beautiful, expressive eyes.”

The door opened and the nurse returned into the room.

“But, since we can’t see her eyes, we were able to turn a slave with unique, distinguishing eyes into the perfect anonymous submissive. She is now merely a tool… a part of the furniture, if you will… fulfilling a purpose… fulfilling HER purpose. I sometimes wonder if her eyes are still as expressive. Maybe that which is hidden slowly takes on the characteristics of its cover. Maybe her eyes are now just cold and hard. What do you think?”

“I.. I don’t know…” Helen whispered.

“Excellent!” The doctor quickly pushed the forceps into Helen’s mouth and grabbed the tip of her tongue, pulling it hard enough to elicit a strangled whine from Helen’s throat. “And those, Slave Helen, will be your final words. Nurse, give me the under-tongue tray!”

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“Nurse, give me the under-tongue tray!”

The slave nurse handed the first piece of Helen’s new hardware to Dr Bitch. It was a molded piece of stainless steel designed to fit below the wearer’s tongue on the floor of her mouth. It curved up slightly along the edges to provide a cup-like boundary to contain the wearer’s tongue. There were six narrow tubes protruding up from the bottom of the tongue tray - two rows of three running back along the length of the hardware which aligned perfectly with the locations of the piercings of Helen’s tongue.

Using the forceps, the doctor lifted Helen’s tongue and slipped the metal cup underneath. After aligning the rear-most tubes in the cup to the corresponding holes pierced through Helen’s tongue, it was easy to skewer the remaining holes until Helen’s tongue rested in the bottom of the cup - twitching, yet pinioned.

The nurse was ready with the over-tongue tray. She gave it to Dr Bitch, who quickly lay the hardware on top of Helen’s tongue, once again aligning the tubes extending from the bottom tray through holes in the top. By pressing down on the over-tongue tray, a flexible clip around the rim of the tray snapped onto the mating edges of the bottom tray with a sudden pop.

Helen’s tongue was now sealed in a sleeve of metal and held within by the tubes skewering the muscle. These two pieces could be easily detached in order to free Helen’s tongue, but that would soon change.

The upper tray, extended from the tip of Helen’s tongue deep into her mouth - curving down towards the back of her mouth. Helen moaned and started to try to say something, but the act of raising her tongue to form words caused the upper tray to press down even more at the back. As the metal pressed, Helen began to retch.

“Shh!” the doctor said. “Keep your tongue relaxed and you won’t choke.”

Habits do not break so easily. Helen immediately tried to respond to the doctors helpful instructions and immediately began to choke and retch again. The doctor smiled at Helen’s dilemma.

“I want to show you something,” the doctor said to Helen once she got her tongue and gag reflex under control. “Do you see how the tips of these pins spring out?” The doctor held a pin with a fairly broad head for Helen (and Saengdao) to see - using her fingers to demonstrate how the tip of the pin could be compressed and then, how angled hooks would spring out as soon as she released the tip.

“These pins will slide into the tubes that are skewering your tongue. They have been measured perfectly so that when fully inserted, the hooks will spring out into a cavity within the tube. The hooks will catch and the pins will no longer be removable. These will ensure that your tongue is permanently captured within its steel sleeve.”

Helen groaned and tears began to drip from her eyes. Her arms twisted in their bonds. She made fists and her legs flexed. None of these actions prevented the doctor from continuing the installation of the hardware and in due course, after six soft clicks, all the pins had been inserted.

“Unfortunately, I suppose you could still cut your tongue out… But, perhaps we have a solution for that eventuality too.”

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“This next piece will help with your retching problem,” Dr Bitch said, holding up a strangely shaped piece of hardware. “See? Your teeth will slip into these bite guards on the top and bottom. The guard will keep your jaw just slightly open. Just enough for this small feeding tube.” She turned the device for Helen to see better. “The internal part of the feeding tube will slip into a clip on the top of your over-tongue tray. This will prevent you from raising your tongue and choking yourself. Of course the outer part of the feeding tube will extend out between your lips.”

The doctor made a show of holding the device up for Saengdao’s inspection as well. It was Saengdao’s job as archivist to include a tediously intricate description of the various bits of hardware that were manufactured and used in the modification projects. It took a bit of practice, but Saengdao had developed her skill such that, within a few moments of observing something, she could form a precise picture of the device in her mind. Then, later, as she wrote her reports, she could simply close her eyes and recall the image in her mind’s eye perfectly and with exacting detail.

“These eight steel tubes on the outside of the tooth guard,” the doctor continued, “are similar to those that pass through your tongue. Of course, they are all perfectly aligned with your lip piercings.”

It was clear that Helen’s expectations regarding her new gag were not aligned with the reality of her situation. Additionally, Helen did not seem to like the direction that things had progressed. She twisted her head from side to side, seemingly indicating that she had had enough for the day. Tears spilled from her eyes and she alternately grunted and wretched as she tried to speak.

Regardless, the doctor had no problem forcing Helen’s mouth open and shoving the device in. First, there was a clicking sound as the inner feeding tube snapped onto the over-tongue tray. Next, Dr Bitch forced Helen teeth into the metal form designed for them. Finally, the doctor pulled at Helen’s lips, slipping each of the tubes through its matching piercing hole. The tubes were a tight fit and once all had been threaded through Helen’s lips, her entire lower jaw seemed to become immobile. Either the tension of Helen’s flesh prevented her from opening her mouth at all. More likely, her jaw was sufficiently strong to open, but the idea of tearing one’s lips into shreds was more than Helen could handle.

Instead, Helen lay still, somehow more subdued - her puckered lips held tightly around the narrow stem of the feeding tube and evenly dotted by the tips of the steel tubes peeking through her pierced holes. She seemed to have surrendered to her fate perhaps. Maybe she assumed that the operation was complete. A soft humming sound emerged from her nose every once in a while - the last vestige of her vocal abilities. Something that the doctor noted.

“Speech is produced by passing a sound through a dynamic filter. For Wom, the filter is the mouth - teeth, tongue, lips, and cheeks. This device, though, effectively eliminates all those aspects of the filter. The sound source is no longer filtered into words leaving only your solitary hum. And, soon, Madam M will have a solution for that…”

Helen began to breathe faster again. A snuffling sound issued from her nose and a quiet hissing sound whistled through the feeding tube.

“But first…” the doctor said. She held up another pin with a wide, round head and retractable tip, very similar to those that sealed the metal sleeve on Helen’s tongue. “More pins to make sure you always keep your mouth closed!”

Saengdao observed as the eight pins were quickly pressed into Helen’s lips - each settling with an innocent sounding click made ominous by the permanence each pin implied. Helen’s tears continued to slip down the sides of her face accompanied by her soft humming sounds and an occasional snuffle. Her face was red and blotchy with the upset she was enduring; her eyes - wet and puffy.

Still, the doctor was not yet done. “Nurse, I’m ready for that blade now.”

<>--+-

The chair in which Helen was bound was rearranged into a more upright position and the headrest was pulled away. Helen tried to observe the doctor’s movements, but her ability to move her head was arrested when Dr Bitch grabbed her ponytail and pulled it back. The doctor stepped behind the chair, and with a single, quick flash of the sharp blade, sheared almost a meter of Helen’s thick, luxurious red locks from her head.

Being divine immortal, many individuals were happy to experiment with a variety of hairstyles over time. Years of hair growth are naught but a flash in the infinite well of time. For some, though, hair could be worn as a statement of pride - a status symbol. Indeed, Helen had been blessed with an incredibly beautiful head of hair - long and thick - a wonderful shade of red with just the right curl. Perhaps, in fact, her hair was a component of Helen’s expression of self.

With a sharp tug and a soft ripping sound, Helen felt the weight of her hair disappear. Her eyes grew wide and she made a quick intake of breath followed by a startled grunt.

Dr Bitch, then, seemed to take pleasure in the slow tedious removal of Helen’s hair. She gently scraped in an organized manner, wetting and using soap at times, leaving, as she proceeded, nothing but Helen’s pale skin behind. The doctor hummed a tuneless song as she worked. The slave nurse quietly knelt on her pad waiting to be called on again. Saengdao remained kneeling in her cage observing each stroke from her metal-plated eyes.

Helen, meanwhile, stared blankly into the room, her distress rising at times, falling at others. Sometimes she developed a particular look of confusion. It had been obvious that she was uninformed regarding the nature of her gag. Now, it must be assumed, she was wondering what role a head shaving had to do with the gag. She no longer had the ability to ask.

After about a half hour, the doctor was finishing the process of shaving Helen’s head. She was using a towel and some sort of cream to clean the last of the stubble. At some subtle signal, the nurse rose and left the operating room.

Baldness was not uncommon among the Wom. It was by far not the most popular look, but one saw it often enough to not be shocked. Helen’s beauty was such that her perfect face gave way to a perfectly shaped head. Some admirers would likely find the exotic nature of her baldness to be something that enhanced her beauty.

After a few minutes, the nurse returned with two bags which she lay on top of her cart. She opened one of the bags and pulled forth something that at first glance might be mistaken for a kitchen sieve - domed and made of a fine, silver metal mesh. The doctor took the mesh and held it up for Helen (and Saengdao) to see.

“This mesh will fit over the top and back of your head. It has been engineered to fit snugly, but you can see that the wires of the mesh, while very strong, are also very thin. You will find that your hair will easily grow back through the spaces of the mesh and it will regain its lustrous beauty at length.”

Helen looked confused and began shaking her head, perhaps wondering why she would wear such an appliance, and particularly, why she would wear it long enough for her hair to return.

“The mesh, here, is quite different,” Dr Bitch continued, indicating two oval cups on opposite sides of the contoured device. “These cups will comfortably cover your ears. And these bolts…” At this point the doctor slid a connected narrow silver cylinder back and forth near the center of one of the cups. She flipped the device over to show that an identical cylinder existed in the second cup, as well. “...when they are pushed in and locked in place, will be buried some distance into your ear canals. The sieve has excellent tensile strength, so locking the bolts will effectively lock the sieve to your scalp. But don’t worry! The bolts are hollow and the cups, despite their appearance and much like Saengdao’s eye plates, have thousands of little holes which will allow you to hear your mistress’s commands perfectly well.”

Helen began to twist her head back and forth, but the nurse stepped forward to wrangle her by grabbing the narrow feeding tube which extended past Helen’s pursed lips. Meanwhile, the doctor had stepped behind Helen and pressed the sieve against the back of her head. In no time, the two cups had been pressed over Helen’s ears. Then the doctor slowly pushed the narrow bolts on each side in until there was a locking click and the bolt head was flush with the outer surface of the cup.

Both the nurse and Dr Bitch stepped back. Helen resumed shaking her head back and forth, quietly grunting. The depth of the insertion of the bolts likely felt quite disconcerting, for they were a tight fit in Helen’s ear canal and had a rough exterior which helped anchor them in place. Regardless of her efforts, though, the metal weave was now tight against her skin from the top of her forehead to the nape of her neck. It was a perfect fit.

Perhaps, with all the shocking events so far, Helen had forgotten about the oval hoop whose fit the doctor had tested at the beginning of her visit. When the doctor held it up now though, there was no longer any question as to its purpose. As before, the doctor pressed the oval band around the length of Helen’s head, cupping her chin, curving up in front of Helen’s ears and high on her forehead. Once again, the nurse handed Dr Bitch the small rubber mallet which was used to seat the hoop more firmly about Helen’s head with each tap.

This time the fitting took a bit more effort than before. The mouth guard that Helen wore did not allow the teeth of her upper and lower jaw to lay flush. Space was required for the passage of the feeding tube. The resulting pressure made for an even tighter fitting as the space was made up by the compressibility of Helen’s flesh.

As the doctor tapped around the circumference of the hoop, occasionally there was the report of a small click. Each time Helen’s body would spasm involuntarily. There was no need for the doctor to explain that the oval hoop band was firmly and irrevocably locking onto the sieve cupping the back of Helen’s head.

Eventually, all the locks were successfully mated and the hoop was fully installed. The black band framed Helen’s beautiful face with her dark red brows and big green eyes. And with her chin tightly held, no level of self destruction would allow Helen to open her jaw and tear her lips from their anchoring tubes.

The doctor gently touched Helen’s cheek. “You are so beautiful. If you will allow me…” She bent down and kissed Helen softly on her pinioned lips.

“And now, for an exquisite work of art utterly inspired solely, by the beauty of your face.”

<>--+-

Helen, who had seemed somewhat resigned to the way things were going, became very tense. She froze completely, watching every move that the doctor made. Even though her bindings held her captive, she was poised as though she was ready to leap from the chair. It was a natural, yet inconsequential, reaction.

Dr Bitch picked up the second bag and took her time loosening the drawstring. She carefully tilted the bag into her outstretched hand. A dark gray metal disk slid out. Not a disk. An imprint perhaps. Yes. The perfect metal imprint of a face. A metal mask.

The doctor held up the mask to show to Helen and Saengdao. “This is made in the same manner as Saengdao’s eye plates. It looks solid, but actually has thousands of tiny holes to let in air and light. I used the shape of your face as a template.”

The mask was shaped just like Helen’s face. There was a small divot at the mouth, but otherwise the surface was completely smooth. But there were no obvious eye holes or nostril holes. It looked like a solid piece of metal. Occasionally, around the edges of the mask, small pins stuck out, clearly destined to be pressed and locked into the oval, metal hoop surrounding Helen’s head.

Helen had apparently had enough. She began to jerk at her bonds - bruising her wrists and ankles. She began twisting her head, grunting and retching behind her gag. As the doctor approached her with the mask, Helen arched her back off the chair and tried using her shoulders to fend off Dr Bitch’s advance.

The doctor paused for a moment. “Don’t worry! This won’t touch your face at all. It’s sculpted to be held uniformly about millimeter away from your skin.” She then descended upon Helen. It was no great effort to attach the mask. It locked to the outer side of the metal hoop with a series of resounding clicks - the divot at the mouth mating with the feeding tube stem extending from Helen’s pursed lips. And when Dr Bitch was done, Helen was completely hidden behind a cold, emotionless, solid face.

The Doctor stepped back after all the attachments had been made. She clapped her hands a couple of times. “Exquisite!” She grabbed a hand mirror and held it up so that Helen could see. Helen let out a long wail that was well muffled by the slate of her new bondage.

Suddenly, the door to the operating room opened. The nurse slave quickly retreated to her mat, kneeling, then bending forward until her forehead touched the floor.

“Madame!” Dr Bitch said, smiling. “As always, you are perfectly on time!”

Madame M had long, pitch black hair which contrasted sharply with her alabaster skin. She wore a tight, blood red corset with a black high low skirt that hung just above her knees in front, yet streamed along behind dragging the floor. Her legs were sheathed in black lace with intricate patterns and severe blocky black calf boots. She wore black silken gloves.

She turned to look at the kneeling slave for a moment before looking up to nod at Dr Bitch who bowed slightly. Finally, she reached up, threading her arm between the bars of Saengdao’s cage, cupping the archivist’s cheek in her hand. Saengdao leaned into the gloved hand, almost nuzzling against Madame’s silk covered palm.

Madame asked Saengdao how she was doing. The archivist remained emotionless and silent, yet she bent her head forward in brief acknowledgement of the Madame’s query. Over the Madame’s shoulder the doctor’s smile had transformed into a sneer.

Madame turned to the doctor and asked if everything was ready.

“Yes, Madame, all the hardware is in place.”

Madame M generally had a mesmerising effect on all that she encountered. Indeed, Helen was no longer thrashing or wailing. She was silent and appeared to be watching Madame intently.

Madame spoke to Helen asking questions about her comfort and how the hardware fit. Helen calmly nodded for each query.

Saengdao had been forbidden to ever document in her reports anything that Madame said. Though Saengdao would remember the exact words used, she was only allowed to give a vague overview of the conversation that occurred.

With little further fanfare, Madame began her spell. Her craft was founded mainly in the spoken word - more so than gestures or concoctions. The language that she used was arcane.

Saengdao listened intently. She watched the movement of Madame’s lips and felt the shapes of the sounds that echoed into the room - words that Saengdao was forbidden to ever etch into the vellum. As Madame spoke darkness began to billow into the space like a scentless smoke. The doctor took a further step back from the operating chair, pressing up against the wall.

A small vial appeared in Madame’s hand. She tipped the contents into the divot at the lips of the metal mask - into the feeding tube - into Helen’s mouth. She held it there as she continued to speak.

The metal of Helen’s new hardware suddenly seemed to turn to liquid - maintaining its shape, yet flowing to and fro and in eddies. The darkness hung thick in the air for a moment and then as Madame pulled the vial away, like an ink spill in water played backwards, sucked into the divot of Helen’s mask.

The spell was complete. The metal hardware no longer seemed to be liquid.

Madame nodded at the doctor. She once again slipped a hand into Saengdao’s cage to cup her cheek and offer a greeting of love. She then bent and gently touched the slave nurse’s back, who remained prostrate and motionless. Finally, she slipped from the room - the door silently closing behind her.

<>--+-

“And so,” Dr Bitch said to Helen, “our contract with your mistress is complete.”

Helen lay silently in the chair. She seemed to be alert, although one could not tell whether her eyes were opened or closed behind her metal mask. Certainly, she made no sound at all.

“Apparently, you mistress felt that it was not your voice that prevented you from fulfilling your role as the perfect submissive. Rather, it was the beauty of your face. Your beauty is your expression of self - just as Saengdao’s hidden eyes are her expression. But, don’t worry, slave. You are still exquisitely, exotically beautiful - this new face that you present to those you encounter. The difference is that now your beauty they see is exactly the way that your mistress wants it to be.”

The slave nurse had left the room to retrieve Helen’s mistress as the doctor collected her tools on the cart.

“I am bidden to explain to you, Slave Helen… All the hardware that I showed you with the permanently locking pins and hooks… All that was theater. They really made no difference to the final result. Madame M cast a spell that has melded all parts of your hardware into a single solid piece - from the tubes through your tongue to the bolts in your ears - the sieve, the mask - they are now all one seamless piece. The metal itself, it seems, after the spell becomes even more resilient than it was before. It won’t be cut or carved or chipped or broken. And the liquid that Madame poured in too. It has settled around your vocal cords, paralyzing them, ending your ability to make any sound at all...

“Wherever your head goes, so too will your mask. From now until the end of time. Forevermore.”

The doctor turned and pushed the cart out of the room leaving Slave Helen bound to the chair staring up from behind her mask into the cage that held Saengdao, the Archivist of PermaMod. Neither moving or making any sound at all until finally, Helen’s mistress arrived, clipped a leash to Helen’s collar, unlocked the restraints that held her to the chair and led her away.

The session was over. Saengdao no longer had to concentrate and observe. She was free to visit her own thoughts.

Madame M’s spells were powerful. They minimized almost all chances of a reversal. But the race of the Wom were divine immortal beings. In the face of eternity all events, no matter how unlikely will eventually come to pass. Helen’s beauty would one day again be revealed... Sometime in the future… Be it thousands or millions of years or more.