(F, nc, tort, crucifixion)
                                                                            Connie's Fast-Track
                                                                                          by
                                                                                      Faibhar	


	Was it a sparkle, or merely an errant dust mote that caught Connie's eye as she pored over the seemingly endless spreadsheets sprawled over her desk? Was something telling her that she would soon be dancing a dance never before expected? The favored miniature figurine of a ballerina pirouetted the center stage on what had become her chosen work area. Girlhood memories returned. Aspirations to be a ballerina resurfaced and now that she was all of 25, Connie had made other plans. Plans that had her on the fast track to a senior vice presidency with the firm, glass ceiling be damned. Let the other girls her same age dance and party and look at her with their covetous eyes as she strode past their humble cubicles on her way onward and upward.

	A sigh signaled how tired she really was .It was getting late. Connie rubbed her exhausted eyes and turned off the banker's light shining above the tiny figure. Packing her laptop and papers into the attaché case, thoughts ran to what lay ahead. Another solitary night. She'd get home, take a bath, and then go to bed. First though, she had to get out of her office and down to where her new car sat by itself in the darkened parking lot. After today, even a machine would be welcome company. She grabbed her tailored jacket from off of the valet, slipped it on, snatched up her keys and case and left the office. The last to leave, again, but that was a price that had to be paid. Someday, all of these extra hours were bound to pay off.

	Her heels clacked through the marbled hallway. The shoes were awfully expensive, but matched the navy blue suit she wore. As did her bag. She waved strands of dark hair from her face. Maybe it might be wise to also color coordinate her work stuff with her business outfits. It couldn't hurt her image she thought as she reached the parking lot floor. There across the pavement sat her car as she had expected. She pointed the key chain device in its direction. The honking horn and flashing lights were reassuring, but just to be prudent, her fingers inside the purse wrapped around the tiny canister and clutched it in her grasp.

	"Working late tonight, are we?"

	Connie whirled around startled. She recognized the male voice as one of her colleagues; one she always thought was jealous of her promotions in his ambitious zeal. "Jim! You nearly scared the shit out of me. But, what are you doing dressed like that?"

	"Oh, this?" He chuckled and smoothed down the front of his workman's overalls. "You're just always used to seeing me in a business suit. This is sort of, uhm, after-hours wear." Jim continued his silly grin at Connie as she faced him. "It really is more comfortable than a suit and tie, you know. Or, maybe you don't." Jim shrugged. "Well, at least you know about suits." He gestured toward the ensemble she was wearing. "Dress to impress, right? Except that maybe that power suit of yours tonight just lost a bit of its power." Jim's grin faded. He wiped a hand over his gelled hair. She was tall, but he stood at least a half-foot over her.

	Connie turned back to her driver's door and said, "Look, Jim, I have no idea what you're talking about or even why you are here, but it's late and now I'm heading home. See you tomorrow." Her words half-heartedly trailed into the night as the key turned and she opened the door.

	"Well hey, Ms. Jennson, the night is young. How about a little company? Don't you think the little lady needs someone to ride along with her Frank?" Connie whipped around and saw Jim's pal also there and dressed just like him. Both of them were staring at her. No one now smiled. She glared back and gripped the pepper spray in her purse.

	"I wouldn't try that if I was you," Jim said, "While you were at break this morning, Frank here stole into your office and replaced your can with one of his harmless toys."

	"What the?!" Connie reached into her purse and pulled out the canister. It was ivory, and the one she usually had in there was colored red. She pulled it out and tried spraying it, but nothing happened. "You bastards! Get the fuck out of here now, before I call Security!"

	Both of them laughed and Frank quietly said to Jim that Security had left two hours before. "Connie," Jim said patiently, "there's no one here to help you now, so why don't we all just nicely get into you car? Okay? Okay." The two men moved closer to the single woman and shoved the leather seat forward to get into the back. "Now just be a good girl and drive us out of here."

                                     ***

	Effects from the stun gun were wearing off. Connie kept hearing Jim's words over and over, something about "getting out of here" said more as a statement than a question. She remembered driving to some old shack in a deserted industrial area, getting out and being led inside. That was when the jolt hit her. She had remained conscious as they removed her clothes, but could not move. Now she was naked and strapped down to this metal table. Lights blazing like rectangular suns encircled her. A moan escaped her lips just as the water hit.

	"Throw it over her face Frank. Maybe the cold water will help her regain some more of her sense?" Jim looked down at the nude on the metal rack. Both of them had admired the toned contours as she lay. "Better enjoy this part dear," he said as the water drenched her face and hair, "because maybe you can't see it now, but we're going to crucify you on that wall over there." He dropped a section of the table that was between her legs, then violently pushed a tethered ankle back while raising her knee. The metal holding the limb retracted into the table.

	Connie gasped. In the Mylar screen above, she could make out he reflection of her own knee being raised and thigh pushed open. That was frightening enough, but Jim's words about a crucifixion shoved aside his earlier words in her growing alertness. She felt her other leg bent and ankle pushed back. Looking back up, she saw her arms stretched behind her wet head and both legs parted. Connie fought to get free, but her arms and legs were securely held.

	"Frank? Why don't you do the honors? I have other plans at this end."

	As if in concert timed with a master's baton, Connie's hips eased back to the table as she exhaled a sigh that sang a medley ranging from Glad That's Over, to I Feel the Edge But Can't Cross Over. Characteristically taciturn around the office, Frank squealed like a rutting hog especially when he ejaculated all over Connie's belly for what Jim had described as the "money shot". Already, the spent globs cooled.

	She was just relaxing her tensed form when a panel between her arms dropped. Her head and neck fell. "Whaaaa...!!!"

	"Told you this was the most enjoyable part for you, bitch."

	Connie struggled between her upside down head and Jim's voice from high above. She blinked her eyes. Staring back at her was a semi-erect male member.

	It took just two zaps from the stun gun, and a threatened third, before Connie enthusiastically lapped at the bobbing organ. She took it between her lips and earnestly sucked the male flesh to a gagging tumescence. Despite the lowered voltage on the gun, a pair of rising burns sided each nipple. Choking , she nonetheless furiously feasted on the cock until Jim at last removed it from her mouth and scalded her face with his cum.

	"How's our vee-pee feeling now?" Jim said as he and Frank one of Connie's arms over their shoulders and helped her off of the table. Her toes dragged over the floor until they hit something hard on the floor. "Frank? Can you switch some of those lights around? Not only are they blinding me, but they're damn hot, too." They dropped her limp form.

	"No need to answer , if you don't want to, Connie. I would like you to turn over and lay with your back on that board there on the floor." Straggled hair and all, she did as she was told and looked up with the lights burning behind the men towering over her. "Know what this is, dear?"

	Jim was holding some tool in his hands but she couldn't see and really didn't care. Her throat hurt but she said up to the giant figures, "Llo...loook...Why don't you guys just let me go? I wwwon't do, anything, I promise." The figure with the object crouched down closer to her head.

	"Now tell me, how could we possibly do that? Besides, the real fun is just about to begin and without you well. Anyhow, this thing I am holding is a pneumatic nail gun. It fires plenty. Watch." He turned the gun away from Connie's head and aimed at a distant spot. A burst exploded and almost immediately, so did the beam. "Now, if you're thinking that we would use that on pretty, pretty you. No way!" Jim stood up and looked at Frank. He gave Frank the nail gun. "Load it with those rusty ten penny nails." He looked down at the spattered face whose blues now sparkled with tears full of pleading. "You'll only need about three, regardless of how fast or how many that thing can fire."

                                 ***

	The mechanical tool's report sounded like a gust of wind coupled with a thunderclap. Connie's reactions as the nails drove into her wrists were more animal-like. Heels of her bare feet pounded a counterpoint as they thudded the macadam. Frank grunted as he sat back, exhausted, his swarthy skin slick with a different kind of sweat. Nailing the bitch had not been so easy, even with the aid of the power tool in his hands. Jim chuckled as he stood outside of the circle of light.

	She had shrieked until her throat was hoarse and she could scream no more. Now Connie merely moaned as her head rolled from side to side. She dared not look at the ends of her outstretched arms for she knew that the sight would only confirm what she already knew. She was now pinned to the beam. Her eyes tightly grimaced and a surf of tears worthy of any beach washed over the moans.

	From somewhere, Jim's voice said, almost in jest, "Cummon, Frank. Let's get 'er up on that wall. We need to be getting back to clean up for work, ya know."

	Frank mumbled something and wearily got to his feet. Jim walked into the bright light and together the two grabbed an end of the crossbeam to lift. The slightest movement of the wood caused Connie's hoarse cry to rasp once more.

	A foot's length off of the ground, the nude still looked imposing. They grabbed her insoles, bent her knees and Frank's tool again hammered home a nail through flesh and into wood. The writhing body did make for an impressive visual. Ribbons of scarlet now trailed from the three entries of the rusted nails. Crimson streams coursed through curled toes.

	On a slim rail attached to the ceiling hung a hummingbird feeder. Jim pushed it closer to Connie, positioning the tiny nozzle just away from her gritted teeth. "Just in case you need a drink of water while we're gone, but you'll have to work for it." He leered upward, imagining the pull that the bitch would have to exert to lean out to drink the sugar water. "But, somebody's got to watch the fort I guess." He gave a final position to the recording video camera aimed at Connie. "We'll be sure and tell the boss you said to say hi and probably come by to see how you're doing after 5 or so, okay?"

	With that, the two vanished, leaving only Connie and her pain to rue the day she chose to enter this particular corporate culture.

                                                                                   -30-
