Tartarus V

Tartarus IV
Tartarus VI

Script for today:

Page 13

Taylor being lifted out of the tank by a large pair of grippers.  She is streaked with variuos kinds of mess.

CAPTION: We all have rather ugly coatings of bodily fluids by the time the evening’s entertainment is over.

Taylor (with others) is standing on a conveyor belt.  Jets of hot (steam rising) soapy water are being projected at them as they move along.

CAPTION: Fortunately a means is provided for us to clean off.  The set-up reminds me of Dr. No.

Close-up on Taylor.  Her hair is being dried by automatic blowers, while she is clearly gazing off into the middle distance, craning her head around at a slightly unnatural angle.

CAPTION: I’m looking around at everyone in line, wondering, hoping that I might see someone but, no luck.

Taylor standing, putting her burka back on.

CAPTION: I’m going to have to re-think my approach.


Page 14

Taylor, reclining nude on top of a table in the palatial suite where she was before.

CAPTION: My next job was incredibly dull.

A second view, pulled back from the previous panel.  Taylor is still reclining.  In front of her are various business people, holding drinks and chatting with each other.

CAPTION: Jacques is holding a party for his friends, at which my job is to be living sculpture.

A close-up view of Taylor’s ass, which is being fondled by a hairy hand projecting from the sleeve of an expensive suit.

CAPTION: I am commanded to be absolutely still, no matter what provocations are offered.  Not much fun at all.

Close up view of Taylor’s face.  It is expressionless, but a single drop of sweat is rolling down the side.

CAPTION: And I overhear one thing over the buzz of conversation.

VOICE FROM THE PARTY (out-of-panel balloon with shaky lettering indicating that Taylor is just making something out): …American girl…Gnosis…conversion process…Citadel….


Page 15

Close-up on Taylor’s hands, buttoning the top button on a pair of pants which she was wearing when she was first picked up by Frau Kupler.

CAPTION: After a week more I’m redeemed from my indentured servitude.  I get my clothes back.

CAPTION: They’ve even been freshly laundered. How thoughtful.

A view down into a teak box.  A U.S. Passport sits at the bottom of it,  We see Taylor’s hands opening an envelope.

CAPTION: There’s also an envelope filled with crisp hundred-dollar bills.

Close-up on Taylor’s face.  Her brow if furrowed. She is holding the envelope up to her mouth and chewing on a corner of it.

CAPTION: An envelope full of cash is not what I came here for.

CAPTION: I’m going to have to take a terrible risk.

Taylor in Kupler’s office.  She and Kupler are sitting across Kupler’s desk from one another.

TAYLOR: …so at the orgy some girl whispered something to me about a “Level II” program?

KUPLER: Only for those for whom sex work is a calling, not a job.

Close-up view inside a dossier-like folder, which is being held by Kupler.  A photograph of Taylor is paperclipped inside it.

CAPTION: Our client provided a most favorable report on you, so you could be considered for the program, but wouldn’t you rather just take your earnings and go home?

View of Taylor, leaning forward, holding out the cash envelop she received earlier.

TAYLOR: I would rather that you donate this to Non-Believers Giving Aid, and stay here, if you understand me.


In referring to Dr. No Taylor here triggers one of Dr. Faustus’s own memories.

When most people wish to connect Dr. No to Fetish Fuel, I think they have in mind this scene from the 1962 film:

Ursula Andress as Honey Rider, emerging from Caribbean waters in a white bikini.

Well, the white bikini is certainly not bad as Fetish Fuel, although I might note (as pretty much every other commentator in the world has) that in Ian Fleming’s original 1958 novel Honey Rider conducts her shell-collecting enterprise au naturel, mostly.

It was a naked girl, with her back to him.  She was not quite naked.  She wore a broad leather belt round her waist with hunting knife in a leather sheath at her right hip.  The belt made her nakedness extraordinarily erotic.  She stood not more than five yards away on the tideline, looking down at something in her hand.  She stood in the classical relaxed pose of the nude, all the weight on her fight leg and the left knee bent and turning slightly inwards, the head to one side as she examined the thing in her hand.

It was a beautiful back.  The skin was a very light uniform café au lait with the sheen of dull satin.  the gentle curve of the backbone was deeply indented, suggesting more powerful muscles than is usual in a woman, and the behind was almost as firm and rounded as a boy’s.  The legs were straight and beautiful and no pinkness showed under the slightly lifted left heel.  She was not a colored girl.

“As firm and rounded as a boy’s.”  Thanks for the high level of detail here, Ian Fleming!  Seriously though, the Fetish Fuel just gets better and better.

But of course, in a sign that young (not yet Dr.) Faustus was a budding thaumatophile the scene that really got me panting, the scene implicitly referenced above and which doubtless also provided the inspiration for the satirical film-within-a-film in Gnosis Dreamscapes was this:

An au naturel (impliedly) Ursula Andress moving down a conveyor belt and being “decontaminated.”