The dark was not empty. It was crowded with agony.
Time dilated, stretching and warping just like the bruised, overtaxed tissue of Yanna's vaginal vault. She lay pinned to the stainless steel examination table, her heels locked in the freezing metal stirrups, forced into a permanent, humiliating display.
The silence of Vault B-4 was absolute, amplifying the internal roaring of her own body.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heartbeat was a frantic drum against her ribs, echoing the throbbing, agonizing pressure in her pelvis. The asymmetrical silicone plug, inflated to sixty percent capacity, felt like a jagged boulder lodged against her cervix. With every shallow, ragged breath she took, her diaphragm pushed down, causing the massive toy to grind mercilessly against her internal walls.
"Ah," she whimpered into the blackness, a pathetic, airy sound.
