A doctor's appointment

Helen's Diary, cont.

The "client" was the most obscene man. He greeted me as "Mr Thursday" and seemed courteous enough, but the things he did to me in that manor; I cannot bring myself to accept that one man could be so callous, or I so utterly perverse to allow them to happen. I will have to collect my thoughts and let my bruises heal before I can properly recount what all he, or rather they, did to me.
I was warned not to record any of what I saw, or what was done. It was some sort of secret society, I believe. I still cannot think straight. I was certainly **** with something. My memory of it all is already fading. Masks and candles. A grand estate outside of town. Some sort of Hindu idol or something. Its all fading. I can still feel them inside me, brutalizing me as I hung from ropes suspended from the ceiling as they chanted insane things in the candlelight. I can't even remember how many there were, only the seemingly endless stream of terrifying masks looking down on me as they violated every orifice.

Thank God its all fading. I don't believe I wish to remember. I cannot recall exactly how I got to the estate, or when the first ropes went on. Thankfully, even as my memory fails, the bruises on my neck remain, and Mr Barlow may have his lead.

Dear Inspector Barlow,

I am pleased to write that Ms Duchamp's Proteus Treatment is going quite well. She is resting in the Somaspa as we speak, and her spirits are finally lifting. As to the nature of her injuries, well, it is unfortunately a rather exhaustive list.

Face: mild bruising consistent with slapping
Neck: finger sized bruising consistent with strangulation
Torso: bite marks on the ribs and shoulders, none enough to break skin
Breasts: moderate bruising, both nipples pierced very recently.
Buttocks: severe redness consistent with prolonged spanking
Anus: minor tears consistent with violent penetration
Vagina: same
Legs: bruising on the knees consistent with prolonged kneeling

Toxicology: Traces of Arachnirilla Pheromonal Discharge, mild **** poisoning, Pharmafruit Extract. She would have been in a severe state of intoxication already. The presence of the Pharmafruit indicates they gave it to her so she could "keep going".

If you wish to press charges, I assure you that her injuries are sufficient to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that while she may have initially consented, no proper woman would subject herself willingly to this level of barbarity. What's more, her mental state had deteriorated to the point where I was **** to use the Autophallus on her until the intoxicants were worn off after conventional intercourse failed to calm her.

I've been able to reconstruct portions of her evening in her moments of lucidity. She departed the brothel via Velocicarriage to a large estate here in town. Once there, she was blindfolded and led down a set of stairs. The underground chamber was large, and filled with people as if it were some sort of perverse Masonic Hall, and truly, the rest does strike a resemblance to a number of Secret Societies. She was stripped, and lead out into the center, where her blindfold was removed. Before her was a man with a top hat and a strange, terrifying mask. He bound her wrists and ankles, and gave her a sip from a cup. From here, it all gets hazy in her memory.

Given the nature of her injuries, I have reason to believe she endured hours of sexual **** at the hands of these individuals. The nature of the Pharmafruit interacting with the **** is consistent with her gaps in memory, so they at least gave her that courtesy. I do not know how you are utilizing this woman for your investigation, but I must caution you that if she is involved with individuals such as this, they see her as a convenient, disposable toy to play with, and break. I've seen the effects of similar treatment among the Hindu women who defy their cultural elders. Let me assure you it is not pleasant.

I suggest you or a suitable individual begin a healthy, sexual relationship with her for her own mental health. If she goes too far down this road of degeneracy you've put her on, she shall most certainly never return, doomed to be forgotten in some brothel near Graylatch. I know the **** of your son still weighs heavy on your heart, but do not let it cloud your better nature to the plight of this girl.

-Dr Miller