Testimony of the Ultimate Slave Girl

April's testimony is in italics. Statements by other people, and descriptions of the courtroom scene, are in normal typeface.


"Call your next witness."

"The prosecution calls April Vishinsky." A woman of average height, slim, with very short straight light brown hair, entered the courtroom and came forward. She wore an inexpensive brown pants suit, tight enough to hint at a good figure underneath. But when she turned around, none of the people in the courtroom paid much attention to her body. There was something haunted about the expression on her face. Her green eyes had seen things that she would rather not have seen.

"Raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"No." There was a moment of stunned silence in the courtroom. "I swear to say whatever the person holding my controller wants me to say, whenever and wherever and however that person wants me to say it. If you want me to tell the truth, then put that controller into somebody's hands and swear him in."

The judge asked "Where is this controller?"

"The police had it. It should be among the exhibits that are helping the prosecution make its case."

"Could you identify it, if you saw it?"

"I think so."

"Bailiff, bring that box of exhibits forward and show them to the witness."

"It should be that one. Could you push the pink button on the right-hand side, and hold it for a second? Ahhhhhh . . . That feels good. Yes, that one."

"So take it yourself, and the bailiff will swear you in."

"NO!! I don't dare touch that thing myself. I tried, once. Never again!"

"What would happen?"

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be burned at the stake? That's what it feels like. And it doesn't do any real damage. A sadist could burn me at the stake every hour on the hour if he wanted to, and I couldn't stop him."

"Bailiff, pass me that controller. Thank you. Ms. Vishinsky, let me see your reaction."

"Yes, your honor . . . . . . Ahhhhhh that feels really good.."

"Let the court record show that I, the judge of this court, have the controller in my possession. When I hold it below my bench, out of sight of the witness, she responds to this controller as soon as I push the button. Ms. Vishinsky, you are commanded to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Do you understand this command?"

"I do, your honor."

"We will consider the witness as having been sworn. Your witness, Mr. Harley."

"Thank you, your honor. Ms. Vishinsky, state your name and occupation for the court records."

"April Vishinsky. I was a prostitute, addicted to hyper meth."

"Do you consider being addicted as part of your former occupation?"

"Yes. Anyone who thinks otherwise was never addicted to hyper meth. There have been months when I've spent all of my time trying to get my next fix."

"And now?"

"Now I'll be spending all of my time doing whatever the person who holds my controller tells me to do."

"How did you get into this situation?"

"I have an associate's degree in biology from NYU, and I was working to become a registered nurse until June 4th of last year. I was in my final year of training, weeks from graduation. That's when I was arrested in a raid for possession of hyper meth. I never sold it; I just had my own personal supply. The charge was a misdemeanor, so there was no jail time. But when it was reported, I got kicked out of the nursing program. I became a prostitute in order to feed my craving for that shit."

"How long had you been an addict at that point?"

"Six months. Ever since a goddamn bastard of a boy friend gave me a free sample. I was stupid enough to believe that I could try it just once."

"Where did you stay after you were kicked out of the nursing program?"

"Wherever I could. My money went for hyper meth, so I couldn't afford rent. My parents are dead, so I couldn't stay with them. My old friends have learned not to trust me, because I will steal anything I could turn into cash for more hyper meth. Last October I was sleeping some nights in an old refrigerator carton in an alley, wondering how I would survive the coming winter. I never dreamed that things could get even worse for me."

"How did that happen?"

"I picked up a john on the waterfront, and he took me to a halfway decent hotel for the night. We went one round in bed. He was too drunk to continue, and he fell really sound asleep. Late that night I was able to take a shower, and wash out my clothes in the sink, and dry them with the hair dryer and use the hot iron that came with the room. I actually looked good when I got dressed again. I had some hyper meth in my bag, so I felt pretty good too.

"Next evening I decided to try my luck over on Oakmont Street, along the strip near The Hills where all the bars are in a row. I figured that I could turn a high-class trick or two there and get enough cash to buy some more hyper meth.

"I had been hanging around there for less than half an hour when a guy in a three-piece blue suit accosted me. He had obviously seen that I was a prostitute. He flashed some sort of badge and ID, a bit too fast for me to be able to read it. He told me that I could avoid prosecution if I went with him and didn't make a big fuss that would disturb all of the tourists. I know now that I should have screamed, nice and loud, and the hell with not disturbing tourists. I didn't realize that until too late.

"He guided me over to a minivan parked along the street. The door of the van opened, and the guy in the suit pushed me in, smoothly and suddenly. I doubt that any tourists or any real cops noticed that slick maneuver. Another guy inside grabbed me, and held a drug-soaked cloth over my mouth. The guy in the suit closed the van door, and the van pulled away while I passed out.

"I don't know how long I was unconscious, or how far I was taken in the van. When I woke up again, I was in a padded cell. They took away my clothes and my handbag, with all of my hyper meth. They just left me naked in that cell for hours and hours, probably a couple of days. I went through the chills, and the cold sweats, and the blinding headaches, and the nausea, caused by quitting hyper meth cold turkey. They wouldn't even let me have a couple of aspirin to ease the agony. They didn't give a damn.

"As the worst of the cold-turkey symptoms faded, a couple of guys entered the cell. One of them was a medical professional, with a stethoscope slung around his neck. The other one was twice my weight and all muscle. They never told me their names. When I thought about them afterwards, I called one of them Dr. Ratfink because of the way he treated me. The other one was Van Dyke, because of his beard.

"Please, Your Honor, whatever you do after this trial, please make sure that neither Dr. Ratfink nor Van Dyke ever gets his hands on my controller."

"Are either of these people present in the courtroom at this time?"

"Both of them. They are the fourth and fifth people sitting at that table there, counting from the left as seen by me and by the jury. Van Dyke has shaved his beard off, probably in order to make it harder for me to identify him. He's been giving me a beady-eyed stare, trying to scare me into not identifying him. I'm sorry as hell, Mr. Van Dyke, it's not working. The judge has my controller now."

"Let the record show that Ms. Vishinsky has identified the two principal defendants in this criminal case. What happened after that, Ms. Vishinsky?"

"Dr. Ratfink gave me a quick medical check-up: listening with his stethoscope, checking blood pressure and blood oxygen saturation, that sort of thing. I tried to ask questions about why I was there and what they were going to do with me, but the only answer I got was a 'Shaddap!' from Van Dyke. Neither of them ever did give me any explanations for what was happening. They both seemed to think of me as an experimental animal who didn't deserve and wouldn't understand any explanations.

"After the quick medical check, Dr. Ratfink said 'Let's get started. Bring her out.' Van Dyke pulled out a riding crop and said 'You heard the doctor. Cooperate now, and maybe you will get the chance to wear some clothes again. Argue, and I'll working you over with this. Fair warning: I enjoy hurting women.' So I followed orders and left the padded cell.

"They had a gurney parked just outside. Van Dyke ordered me to lie down on it, on my back. He strapped my body and right arm down. He unfolded an arm support and strapped my left arm sticking straight out from my body. Dr. Ratfink put a blood-pressure cuff on my upper arm.

"I got scared when Dr. Ratfink put a needle into a vein in the crook of my elbow. I was arranged like a convict about to be executed by lethal injection. But he just took a blood sample.

"They left me helpless on the gurney for several hours. Either Van Dyke or one of the orderlies kept watch over me. Then Van Dyke's cell phone rang, and I overheard Dr. Ratfink's voice saying that they had a good specimen and that I should be released.

"'Released' in that context meant 'Put back into the padded cell'. The nicest of the orderlies gave me a hospital gown before the cell door was locked. Hospital gowns were all I was allowed to wear for the next several weeks."

"What made you think of that orderly as nice?"

"He seemed to care. He told me his name, which was Sam, which is more than anyone else was willing to tell me about themselves. I think that he supplied me with hospital gowns on his own initiative, not because of an order from Dr. Ratfink. He also supplied me with old books to read. I never got a gown or a book from anybody else. They wouldn't give me a TV or anything else electronic. If it weren't for Sam, I would have been naked and bored out of my mind."

"Old books?"

"Tom Sawyer. Huckleberry Finn. Tarzan stories. Conan the Barbarian. Horatio Hornblower. All as actual paper books, not on a bookreader screen. I guess Dr. Ratfink figured that anything electronic might be connected to the Internet somehow, and I might use it to call 911. Sam apparently had a collection of paper books that he was willing to loan me, and Dr. Ratfink was willing to let him. The stories weren't exactly to my taste, and I never used to be much of a reader. But under those conditions I wasn't complaining."

"So you spent several weeks in a padded cell wearing a hospital gown and staving off boredom by reading. Then what happened?"

"Van Dyke came into my cell and ordered me to strip out of my hospital gown, come out, and lie down on that gurney again. This time the needle in my vein contained a knockout drug of some kind. When I woke up again, I had had brain surgery."

"Objection! The witness has testified that she was knocked out by some sort of drug. If that were true, then she would have no way of knowing what happened to her before she woke up!"

"The defence lawyer is wrong, your honor."

"Sustained. Please testify only about things that you can reasonably know, Ms. Vishinsky."

"Hmmph. Okay, I'll testify about my belief at the time, and let the court decide if my beliefs were justified. When I woke up again, I believed that I had had brain surgery."

"What is the basis for this belief?"

"My beautiful long hair had been shaved off, and my head was covered in bandages. I was wearing a strait jacket to keep me from touching the surgical site before it healed. Later on, I began to feel the effects of whatever they had done to me. The bandages and the effects could be explained by assuming that I had had brain surgery."

"Objection! The witness is not a trained neurologist or neurosurgeon. This conclusion is completely beyond her area of expertise."

"Your honor, my esteemed colleague is correct that the witness has no formal training in this area, and no fancy degree. But she is nonetheless the world's leading expert on the effects of the medical procedure that she was subjected to, because she is the first person ever subjected to it."

"I'll allow the line of questioning. Mr. Harley, have your witness stick to things that she could observe and not speculate on the causes for those observations."

"Thank you, your honor. Ms. Vishinsky, what symptoms did you begin to notice?"

"Pain was first. It could feel like it was from anywhere on my body. It would start suddenly, and stop equally suddenly. Burning skin, or cramped muscles, or a feeling like somebody had dropped an anvil on my toe. Or mental pain, thoughts of suicide, a depressing funk. Later on it began to alternate with pleasure. The best of the pleasure is the greatest thing that I have ever felt. Dr. Ratfink or Van Dyke could make me feel higher than the best hyper meth high, if they wanted to."

"You are sure these symptoms were deliberate."

"Oh yes. One morning soon after I began feeling both the pain and the pleasure, Van Dyke ordered me out of the cell and strapped me onto that gurney again. Then Dr. Ratfink put a needle back in that vein and began taking repeated blood samples, while Van Dyke played with my brain by pushing buttons on a cartload of electronic equipment. The pains got worse and worse, and they spread over more and more of my body. Van Dyke's grin got wider and wider. Eventually I was screaming my lungs out, so loud that Dr. Ratfink had to tell Van Dyke to quit by using hand signals.

"And then the pleasure began. Van Dyke quit grinning. He turned up the pleasure to the most intense settings they ever used. That felt glorious, marvelous, there are no words for it. By the time they were done I had forgotten all about the pain. Dr. Ratfink kept taking blood samples.

"Finally they were done. Van Dyke unstrapped me from the gurney and put me back in my cell. He was grinning again. He knew that I would spend the rest of my life dreaming about that absolutely glorious high, and wishing I could have it again, and knowing I couldn't do anything to get it.

"And he was right."

Was this the last medical procedure that was done on you?"

"No. After that, from time to time, I was taken out of my cell and strapped back onto a gurney, face down. They did something which involved sticking very long, very thin needles into the hole they had carved into the back of my skull."


"I was awake for these procedures. I saw the needles. I overheard Dr. Ratfink discussing how to steer those needles to just where he wanted them in my brain. This isn't speculation. It would be speculation to say that he was injecting nerve-fiber growth hormones into carefully-chosen spots in my brain, so I won't say that. But I saw the needles with my own eyes. He still wasn't able to make me go blind at that time."

"Objection overruled. Ms. Vishinsky, for the second time, do not speculate. The jury will disregard the witness's comments about nerve-fiber growth hormones."

"I will apologize for my witness, your honor. Ms. Vishinsky, did you develop more symptoms as time went on?"

"Oh yes. With a push of a button, I can now be paralyzed from the waist down, or from the neck down. Or I can be made blind, or deaf, or mute. Once they had all of these capabilities installed on a cartload of electronic gear, they set to work to miniaturize that gear into a pocket-size remote controller. Now anybody who holds that controller has compl-- . . . " ??

"Your honor?"

"Yes, this one is my fault. Let the court records show that the controller is marked with doodles of a head and a body. The doodle of the head has buttons at the eyes, and the ears, and the mouth. I just pushed the mouth button, and it appears that I have completely muted the witness."

"I think that the witness is asking by hand signals for you to push the same button again."

"Yes, I was. Thank you, your honor."

"Please explain to the court about the final exam that they put you through."

"Soon after they stuffed all of my controls into a pocket-size controller, they blinded me and took me out of their building for the first time since they kidnapped me. They switched my eyes back on when they dropped me off at one end of SuperMall East and told me to walk to the other end, where they would pick me up. They warned me that somebody would be watching every step I took.

If I stopped and talked with anyone, especially anyone in a police or security uniform, then I was told that I would immediately be deaf, dumb, blind, and paralyzed, and I would hurt until the pain drove me totally insane. They told me that the controller worked through the Internet, and that they could get to me anyplace that there was an Internet signal, which of course is just about everyplace these days.

"So I walked all the way through that mall. During that walk I was hit by occasional short blasts of agony, nasty but very brief, to remind me of their power over me. I walked straight past the security office and the security pavilion in the middle of the mall. And I didn't even dare to try to escape.

"When I got to the other end, a car was waiting to pick me up. Sam, the nice orderly, put me into handcuffs with my wrists behind my back, with another pair on my ankles, and I was seat-belted in. On the way back to Dr. Ratfink's clinic, he pushed the pleasure button on my controller for about ten minutes as a reward for obeying orders. Since then I have known that I would never disobey an order from somebody who holds my controller. I would give anything to have that kind of pleasure, and anything to avoid that kind of pain.

"After that they never bothered to lock me back in the padded cell, or any other cell for that matter. They could put me in an ordinary room and order me to stay there. With my controller in their hands, an order to stay in a room locked me in that room as securely as if I were in the innermost cell of the highest-security prison in the world.

"After that they started my training."

"What were you trained for?"

"Sex. Whatever, whenever, however anybody wanted it. I don't know why. Hey, I was a prostitute. i would have done anything anyway if they had paid me enough, and it would have been a lot cheaper than putting me through their medical procedure. You will have to ask them why. The judge won't let me speculate."

"So you had forced sex with both of the defendants."

"With the defendants, and with many of the orderlies as well. Most of it was forced. I'm not sure about sex with Sam, the nice orderly that I have mentioned. He kept me chained, usually in handcuffs, but he always used pleasure to train me, never pain. He said that he was teaching me to enjoy being chained, and it worked. I never worried when he was taking me. Sex with Sam was an absolutely fantastic experience. He took me with the pleasure switch of my controller set on low. That warmed me up before he even started caressing."

"But sex with the defendants amounted to rape. Is that true?

"Yes. Especially Van Dyke. He was the complete opposite of Sam. He always used pain instead of pleasure. It turned him on. I just felt frightened."

"And in all this time, you still were never told exactly how this was done to you, or exactly why. Is that true?"

"Not quite. Sam visited me one day in my unlocked room when Dr. Ratfink and Van Dyke were both away. He showed me some holographic pictures and explained them to me. I don't think that he was supposed to do that, so he was taking a big risk. I think that I understood the pictures, but as the defendant's lawyer has pointed out, I am no expert. I suppose that I should let a neurologist or neurosurgeon or some other expert explain them to you."

"I call the court's attention to people's exhibits B, C, and D. Ms. Vishinsky, can you identify these exhibits?"

"Yes. Those are the holographic pictures that Sam showed me. You really don't have to be a super expert to see the little third lobe that they grew in the back of my brain, or the Internet signal antenna that was applied to the inside of my skull."

"Just the identification will be enough, Ms. Vishinsky. We do have an expert who will be testifying soon about what the pictures show and what they mean.

"So after all that, how did you finally come to be testifying here now?"

"Soon after Sam showed me the pictures, a police SWAT team raided Dr. Ratfink's clinic. They hit fast, and they hit hard, and they captured everybody who was on duty that day, including both Dr. Ratfink and Van Dyke. They captured my controller before anybody could use it to torture me to death. Sam wasn't on duty and I guess he got away. I have been in police custody ever since."

"Thank you, Ms.Vishinsky. Your honor, my next witness will be a neurologist who will discuss the holographic images of Ms. Vishinsky's head. My esteemed colleague for the defense may wish to cross-examine Ms. Vishinsky first. May I suggest that this would be a good time to have a recess for lunch?"

"I'll accept your suggestion, Mr. Harley. Court is recessed until 1:00 pm today. "

* * *

"Court is back in session. Ms. Vishinsky, I will remind you that you are still under oath. In your unusual case I should add that I still have your controller and that you are still under orders to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Yes, your honor."

"Your honor, I have been informed of some very important developments in this case over lunch. This morning the police and the FBI raided several locations and made several additional arrests. As a result, I need to ask Ms. Vishinsky a few more questions myself before my esteemed colleague cross-examines her."

"Okay, she's still your witness, Mr. Harley."

"Ms. Vishinsky, several times in your testimony so far you have mentioned an orderly named Sam. Is this orderly present in this courtroom?"

"Hello, April Baby."

"That is his voice, and that is what he used to call me, but I don't see him. Sam? OmigodSAM! What the hell are you doing in that police uniform?!"

"I'm ending two years of undercover work, April Baby. Come on down out of that witness box, and stand in front of the judge here with me. Thank you. Now, act on your own initiative . . . oof."

"Let the court record show that as soon as April Vishinsky was ordered to act on her own initiative, she threw her arms around Sergeant Thompson and gave him a very enthusiastic hug."

"Sam . . . . oh Sam . . . . oh Sam . . . . You must be one of the good guys after all."

"I'd certainly like to think so."

"Can you be my good guy, and keep my controller?"

"I would be honored to do so, but you will have to ask the judge about that. I don't think that I can ask that question for you."

"Your honor?"

"Hmmmmm. I will consider it, after your testimony has been completed. Until then I hold the controller, and I will keep you under orders to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Darn. I suppose that that would be best, under the circumstances. Can I stay with Sam?"

"If Sergeant Thompson is willing. Are you certain that you wouldn't rather have me keep the controller after the trial until the medical people can figure out a way to get you loose from it?"

"Please don't do that, your honor. I have several reasons.

"First off, I am still an addict. If I weren't controlled, I would probably be trying to get the glorious highs that the controller can give me by taking hyper meth. I would probably be dead inside a year from an overdose, even though I've been told that overdosing on hyper meth is a lot harder than overdosing with older drugs like heroin.

"Second reason is the risks of the medical procedure. After most of the third brain lobe is taken out surgically, would any tiny pieces left in my brain turn into brain cancer? Would they keep causing me pain, or pleasure, or blindness, or something at random times instead of when somebody pushes a button? Nobody knows the answers to these questions, because nobody has ever been controlled like I am before.

"Third reason is, I'm in love with Sam. I want to be his woman. I have had fantasies that that would be possible, and those fantasies began even before the SWAT-team raid that got me loose from Van Dyke and Dr. Ratfink. I thought that that would be an impossible dream, because of course Sam was a crook too and we would have to live on the lam, always knowing that the cops were searching for us. And now it turns out that Sam is a good guy after all.

"Fourth reason is, Sam deserves something better than a hyper meth addict as his woman. If I am controlled, he will have a woman who could never betray him. And I will have something better than hyper meth whenever he pushes the pleasure button.

"Maybe there is a fifth reason too, that I just can't think of right now.

"You probably weren't expecting such a long speech when you asked the question, your honor. But I have been thinking about what would become of me for a while now. I just gave you a lot of my thoughts."

The defense attorney exclaimed, "Your honor, I cannot properly defend my client against the serious charges leveled against him when surprise witnesses turn up in the middle of the trial. Is this undercover policeman going to testify? If he is, then I will move for a recess."

Mr. Harley replied, "Your honor, I wish to remind the court of defense's petitions and motions of April 15, May 16, and May 28, demanding that legal action begin promptly based on his client's constitutional right to a speedy trial. It now appears that his primary goal was trying to get a Not Guilty verdict before all of the evidence that could incriminate his client was available. His client would then be protected from a later re-trial on the same charges because our legal system does not allow double jeopardy.

"I agree with my esteemed colleague that this trial should not continue at this time. He states that he cannot properly defend his client. I cannot properly prosecute his client, or any of the other people who will be charged with crimes as a result of this investigation, until I have the results of interrogations that have not yet been completed. I expect that I will be granting immunity from prosecution, or perhaps asking you for leniency in sentencing, for some of those criminals who are willing to turn state's evidence right away. I may then be able to convict other more serious criminals, including the ones who financed the clinic where April Vishinsky was processed.

"Once I have all of the necessary evidence, criminals who were unwilling to testify will be given no opportunity to change their minds. I will therefore be asking you to impose some severe penalties. My esteemed colleagues for the defense may wish to discuss the prospects with their clients and then negotiate with me. They may wish to change their not-guilty pleas, at least to some of the charges that they are facing.

"I move for a ten-day recess in this trial."

"Granted." The judge whacked his gavel. "Court is adjourned until 8:00 am September 4."

"Your honor?"

"Yes, Sergeant Thompson?"

"May I please have your home phone number? I need to be able to ask you to push the pleasure button on April's controller, if she has been pleasing to me. She needs a dose of that button from time to time."

"I'm going to leave the controller in my office safe, here in the court house. I wouldn't want anybody to have a chance to steal it. This business card has my private office number. Call me around lunch time. I often work through lunch in my office."

"Thank you very much, your honor."

"Thank you very much, your honor. Sam?"

"Yes, April Baby?"

"Do you think that you could take me home in handcuffs and leg irons? You have taught me to enjoy that, and I think that everybody should know that I am in your custody. "

"I'm going to order pretty engraved cuffs and a collar for you when this case is over. You will be wearing them for the rest of your life. But right now, and for the time being, I suppose that police issue will do."

The End

Author's Closing Comments: This story is dedicated to the memory of the real "April Vishinsky", and it is a bit of a wish fulfillment fantasy for me. The real one wasn't stopped in time, and she died of a heroin overdose. Her mother has never been quite the same since. Please, everybody, stay away from that shit. The highs aren't worth the lows that will always follow.

Copyright© 2014 by YFNR. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at