Free Descent Into Darkness by H. A. Kotys

image, not helped by the reducing clarity of her thoughts. The sedative lacing the energy drink within her gag increasingly dulled them and started to creep a shroud across her consciousness.
     
    Through the pinprick eye holes Katarina could see it was indeed her reflection. The image's chest heaved in unison with her own. The hair though was not quite right, the face similarly so but it was all becoming difficult to place now, difficult to work out.
     
    The haze descending on her mind parted momentarily. Katarina fought to find sense in it all. That fight allowed the realisation that her own hair had long been tucked under the hood and that the additional pressure on her scalp then had to be a wig. It was good, very good and was close to her own hair but not matched exactly. But why? That was the difficult part. Her head was starting to feel heavy, the muscles in her neck relaxing and but for the posture collar, her head would have lolled forward.
     
    It was hard to stay awake, to work out what this all meant. A slow realisation unfolded. As it did, she plumbed further new depths of despair. The body in the mirror was hers, that was plain and the hair, well, close enough so only she could tell the difference.
     
    A final recognition crept across her. The face that looked back at her was a copy of her own, a representation of her but in cold, unyielding latex. She was masked to be herself. She was a depiction, a smiling, happy caricature of herself. Tears openly flowed down the face of the inner Katarina, trickling down between the leather pad of her gag and the outward face, the joyous avatar of the despairing beauty concealed beneath.
     
    She was herself, or at least like herself. As the girl started to wheel her toward the door, the mercury within the benwa balls awoke afresh. The strain of the day won the battle and the sedative engulfed the remainder of her reason in a final drowning of her consciousness, turning Katarina’s world to black.

CHAPTER X - A Democratic Choice
     
    The throbbing of passing traffic. The scream of a child. The laughter of a gaggle of teens. All permeated Katarina’s fitful sleep, embellishing her dreams of control, domination, incarceration and downfall. She dreamt she had been taken during her shoot, bound inescapably, abducted and toyed with. Part nightmare, part fantasy, Katarina wasn't entirely sure which as her mind started to reconnect to reality and awaken.
     
    A wake up routine, Katarina first tried to stretch her arms, only to get no response. She flexed her neck to find it held rigid, pointed her toes but they were already en pointe. It registered only as a fuzzy ‘not right’.
     
    The deep male voice boomed in her ear, snapping her immediately into full but confused consciousness. “Awaken slave.” Katarina’s eyes shot wide. Those dreams, those nightmares, all actually replayed memories and as her body woke and demanded increased oxygen, the embrace of the corset still demanded a focussed effort to breath.
     
    It was the bizarre vision through the pinholes in her mask that truly shocked her though. She could see outside. A busy street scene played out before her. Children strained at the hands of parents. People bustled by, huddled against what must be an autumnal cold. All so normal, except for the occasional passer-by who stole a furtive glance in her direction.
     
    They could see her and the thought made her flush red beneath the smiling representation that was the mask. She knew what she must appear like in this main street shop window. Katarina was a mannequin of herself, held fast for display to the world.
     
    Normality had long gone but one thing still struck her as unexpected. She had been given back her hearing but why? That was soon answered as Katarina bathed in the luxury of the sounds of the street. A middle aged mother hurried past, dragging her family in tow as she chastised her kowtowed husband for 'ogling the window full of whores'.
     
    At the very