EXCERPT Jill shivered uncontrollably, she was naked and her feet were absolutely
frozen. She stood before the tiny bunk bed, her sweat-stained clothes in a
neatly folded pile at her feet as she began to dress in the gray PJ’s that were
provided. The windowless barracks were hot, heated by slumbering body heat and
the small stove in its middle. It was dark and the little light provided cast
long stark shadows, only a pair of forty-watt bulbs making an island of light
above the stove and nightlights at ankle height by every fourth bunk.
The bunk beds were small, meant to bed a single person but Jill knew
she’d be warmer soon, as they were being slept three to a bed. The compound held
almost a thousand girls and several hundred young men she knew, having been
checking carefully. This barrack had about a hundred sleeping forms, crammed
together on tiny bunk beds. Around Jill ten other girls were quickly changing
into their own PJ’s. They were the work detail.
Jill was an intelligence agent, a specialist in open infiltration; which
meant presenting herself as the target organization’s desired personnel type and
allowing them to ‘recruit’ her. In this case that had meant playing a starving,
desperate homeless runaway junkie. She was twenty-six but could still pass for
eighteen if she tried and she was playing a twenty-two year old for this
mission, simple.
She’d been in for the last four months, gathering information solely, she
hadn’t yet done anything to disrupt the One True Light’s operations; it was too
risky. She was just learning about them at this point; feeding information out
to her handler and awaiting an opportunity. She was ready; really ready, to
assassinate the crazy fucker that built this cult; but things were much more
complicated than anticipated and they wouldn’t authorize it.
She was so cold because she had spent the last ten minutes chopping wood
in the minus thirty degree weather outside without gloves socks or boots. She
had delayed sending her standard hang back and wait contact till the last
minute; tonight’s cover had required her to ‘accidentally’ throw her axe over
the fence and she’d known she’d be punished for it. She slid the PJ bottoms on,
not looking at any of the other girls. Others who had received similar
punishments for minor infractions were crying openly, Jill at least ten years
older than most of the girls wanted to comfort them but she knew she couldn’t.
She was angry with herself. She’d had to stand and watch as one of the
wood-choppers on tonight’s work detail had cried just a bit too loudly for the
guard’s sensitive hearing, or perhaps his boredom. Jill could do nothing but
play the part of a weak-minded and broken street kid as the guard had the attack
dogs rip the other girl apart; first teasingly sending her jogging toward the
main camp, pretending he was sending her back early for a hot chocolate treat,
then sending the dogs after her.
She felt week and sick. Jill had undergone extensive pre-mission
resistance training for this cult, but the leader was an unknown and apparently
he was perfecting standard brainwashing techniques which were even starting to
get to her. Jill knew they had decided she was a suitable candidate for their
experimental process, she hadn’t found out much about it yet, and she was afraid
she was going to learn the hard way if her handler didn’t authorize something
soon. The girls always knew who was next to disappear with a flimsy excuse or no
excuse at all. The girl who suddenly always got late night work detail and extra
shifts of the hardest labor, the one who was punished badly for literally
nothing; the one put on half rations for a week. Jill hadn’t eaten properly in
over four months, and the bowl of high protein gruel that the children, the
eldest of them maybe twenty, were usually fed? She’d been getting half the usual
amount for more than a week, worse, that half had been cut to a quarter for the
last four days and she knew she was literally starving. She was aware they were
still refining their process, it was why the girls were never seen again. Almost
a week ago Jill had warned her handler she was clearly slated to be next. She
hadn’t been allowed a proper night’s sleep in days either, some excuse always
came up for them to wake her.
As she finished tying the knot on the PJ bottoms she looked around at the
other girls, some still naked. Like her, they were all emaciated; kept
constantly on the edge of hunger, skin slack, muscle tone fading, skin
sallowing, their hair lank and greasy as they showered communally once a week.
It wouldn’t take much to break any of them. Out of the corner of her eye Jill
saw the Den Mother standing by the stove. She held a bowl of porridge in her
hand, ladle in the other, scooped up from the bubbling pot on the stove. Jill’s
stomach growled as she thought about food, the late work detail was to be fed
now. A meal before bed and all the girls needed it desperately.
This was a punishment detail, all these girls, Jill among them, were
exhausted and weak; even with Jill’s, highly trained excellent conditioning, she
was beginning to feel the strain on her body. Top in her hand she tensed as the
doors at the end of the barracks opened quietly, some of the sleepers nearest
the door stirred and murmured but every girl here was utterly worn out and none
woke. The three men were the Master’s ‘go to’ henchmen, his favoured
lieutenants; Mutt and Jeff, brothers apparently actually named that, very large
powerful men. They rarely spoke. Herkle was the cultist’s second in command, he
you had to watch Jill knew. Like the man calling himself Mordicia Jed (they knew
it wasn’t his real name, the question was, who was he?) Master to his girls,
little was known about Mutt and Jeff; but Herkle was a professional, an assassin
and terrorist. He worked for a cause and his current cause was helping to
prefect a near perfect sleeper.
Jill quickly pretended to be nervous, (easy), emulating the other girls
who tensed in fear as they continued to dress. Jill didn’t have to work hard at
the act, she was afraid this was finally it, her employer had waited too long
and now they would have to brief a new agent.
A calm voice called softly, “Susan.”
It was time Jill knew; she looked up at the sound of her cover name. The
Den Mother (a file her bosses had, showed her to be a really dangerous woman, a
trained psychotherapist who had lost her license for participating in illegal
human experimentation) crooked a finger at her.
Jill dropped her PJ top back to the bed and obediently approached, she
was a pro she wouldn’t break cover; something could be salvaged right up until
they killed her or she actually told them who she was. As she came to stand
before the forty-ish woman, the three men moved to surround her. Herkle was on
one side, the large Mutt behind her and Jeff on her other side. Jill, Susan,
ignored them calmly, giving the Den Mother her attention as she was supposed to.
Topless, submissively, Susan spoke, “yes Ma’am?”
Warm but firm, “be a good girl and don’t resist, that’s an order okay?”
Butterflies in her belly clawing up towards her mouth, Jill said nothing
but remained pliant as the men gently yet firmly grabbed her in a practiced sort
of way. Mutt took her by the upper arms as Herkle slipped a cloth bag over her
head, shutting her in darkness. She didn’t fight as she felt her legs grabbed,
the pair lifted her off her feet.
* * * *
A small hole in the bag admitted a shard of light; but the cloth was still
thick enough to prevent her from making out anything more than vague blurs as
the three moved around her. She held still unresisting as she heard metal
buckles and straps shifting while the men gently but firmly strapped her in
place. She hissed a quick indrawn breath of pain as needles were slid smoothly
into the backs of her hands, each hand getting two injections. She heard tape
ripping then pressed tight against the needles to hold them in place.
She knew she had to play her part, no bravery just a frightened young
woman, “Ow!” As the first needle slid in, a pause, “owwie!” than half sobbed,
“owww!”
Herkle spoke to her firmly soothing, “it’s okay Susan; we’re just showing
you a movie.”
Jill was scared, knowing she was about to undergo brainwashing and it was
always a process where there was a danger of failing to resist, as she’d learned
from other cults she had infiltrated. Yet at the same time she was reassured,
their actions strongly suggested she hadn’t lost her cover but had simply played
a pliant submissive woman, a little too well. Jill felt the leather straps
holding her body as the men finished restraining her, clad only in pajama
bottoms with thick leather straps around her wrists, elbows, ankles and knees;
another pair just under her breasts and beneath the swell of her belly.
Electrodes were taped to her nipples, and Jill knew electro-shock would be part
of the process: aversion therapy, the carrot and the stick; she wondered what
unusual refinements they had in store for her. Every cult had its own
brainwashing recipe she had read about them all, and experienced many.
The trick of course wasn’t to resist the brainwashing, she had been
trained for that, an even more rigorous training process than usual for this
mission but no for the real trick now Jill knew, was to resist but at the same
time eventually make them buy her succumbing; otherwise they would kill her.
A moment passed in silence, the bag was whisked off in a burst of light.
Jill blinked rapidly, accustoming her eyes to the brightly lit room high
ceilings and dark beige walls and floor. It held only two items of interest Jill
could see, one was the wooden ladder backed chair she was strapped to and the
various medical equipment next to it, like the drip bags full of drugs already
leaking into her veins. She would feel it soon she knew but she couldn’t slip
into a meditative trance while they watched; she hoped they wouldn’t actively
monitor the entire process, that much was unlikely. Fluorescents in the ceiling
filled the room with a harsh shadowless light; a sixty-seven inch wide screen TV
dominated the wall before her. Mutt and Jeff stood beside and behind her; she
looked up feigning terror as Herkle looked down at her with what she knew to be
false compassion. Out of the corner of her eye she noted Jeff held a pair of
tweezers, she heard Mutt playing with more straps and buckles.
Soothingly her captor spoke, “good girl Susan, that’s it just relax,
we’ll just put this on now.” He nodded to his men.
She held still, not fighting as Jeff with the tweezers, gently gripped
her jaw. Herkle spoke again, “careful now don’t hurt her.”
Don’t damage the merchandise, Jill thought, the test results might not be
the same if I’m injured. She knew perfectly well physical injury could offset
the process, making an otherwise perfect subject temporarily immune to
brainwashing. The throbbing pain of a broken arm or a damaged jaw distracting
their mind from the process they were being forced to undergo; no, they wanted
only controlled pain like from the electrodes taped to her nipples. Carefully
regulated and delivered at specific times, with specific stimuli, for a specific
response.
Working together, all three fitted a leather and plastic mask over her
face, her eyelids lifted and gently clipped to the mask so she couldn’t close
her eyes; but only helplessly watch whatever they felt like showing her. When
they were done her head was immobilized, eyes wide open straps under her jaw
forcing her mouth closed. Two small plastic tubes gently leaked clear fluid into
her eyes very slowly, taking the place of blinking.
The other two began to leave, but Herkle lingered fitting small earphones
into her ears, “enjoy your movie.” Only warm sincerity in his voice.
He left and Jill heard the door (directly behind her, out of her
sightline) close, instantly the TV flicked on. Music played in her headphones,
music she couldn’t shut out. Jill instantly fell into the rhythmic breathing she
had learned oh so long ago; preparing to drop into a trance-state in order to
fight whatever they were going to do to her. Still, she had no choice but to
look at the screen unable to close her eyes, and she needed time to blank her
mind to external stimuli, she only hoped she had enough. If the electro-shock
started too soon…she wasn’t good enough to slip into a deep trance while being
shocked, it was so very difficult. The TV showed her a painting, an artist’s
conception of the Garden Of Eden, a naked Adam sits on a rock looking down on a
naked Eve kneeling before him washing his feet. A warm strongly soothing
commentator began to speak to her in the headphones, as Jill desperately raced
through the steps of autohypnosis; attempting to retreat to a dark and warmly
safe place.
“In the beginning god created Eve to serve Adam’s every need.” A pause,
music swelled, faded. “Women are meant to serve men.” The TV began showing still
pictures and snatches of videos, hard porn, maids, housewives… “The sole point
of women’s existence is to perform any task a man may choose to set for them. As
such there are improper jobs and actions women must not engage in.”
The TV showed a female judge sitting on the bench. A loud hum, Jill
gasped and jerked against the straps as a painful shock coursed through her
body, breaking her concentration. The shock ended and immediately the TV
replaced the female judge with more slideshows of various submissive women,
naked slaves collared and leashed, whores and more.
The commentator droned on… “Women are simply inferior.”
The commentator continued to talk, telling how and why women were less
than men; as pictures and flickering moments of video continued to roll across
the screen. The commentator spoke at length, making his points with jolts of
electricity at seemingly random and unexpected times, always accompanied by
pictures of strong independent women. Jill fought, but she was unable to drop
into anything other than a light meditative trance, not nearly deep enough; and
she was shocked out of it regularly. She had no choice but to look at what was
on the screen, she was unable to shut the droning continuing voice of the
commentator out, Jill knew this could take hours. Fortunately, she knew, this
was only one step of a very long process, she was going to suffer but there
would be other chances to resist and brainwashing was delicate, easy to disrupt.
Still she had to listen as the commentator told her in great scientific
but easily understandable detail, exactly why she was a lesser being and had to
do as she was told; continuing to make his point with regular jolts of
electricity, stinging her bare nipples. She was forced to watch a twenty minute
black and white film of Nazi footage, ninety young Jewish women were taken stark
naked into a corral; emaciated as Jill herself was. They were made to jog in a
circle while young S.S. officers laughed and urged them on with crops, every
minute or so some of the slower women would be dragged into the middle of the
corral and hung on a gibbet, any woman foolish enough to object were summarily
shot. After twenty minutes, more than half the women had been executed and the
survivors, exhausted, were pulled down and raped. The commentator explained to
Jill throughout exactly why what was happening was right and proper.
As he droned on, Jill felt the drugs seeping through her system, making
her calm, muzzling her thoughts swaddling her critical thinking in a thick haze
of muggy un-knowing. She found she couldn’t think of any coherent argument
against what he was saying, she tried to resist but could no longer think why
she should do anything but sit there and simply listen.
The commentator droned on, Jill wondered how much time had passed; she
always did have an excellent internal clock, useful in her line of work. She
thought maybe it had been an hour but a small voice in her head told she’d been
sitting there for almost a day, just listening. Jill was shocked, that can’t be
right. Nevertheless, as she thought about it, she knew it had indeed been a long
time. She felt weak, shaky; she hung slack in her restraints and she realized
she hadn’t offered the slightest mental resistance for a while now, simply
allowing the commentator’s words to seep into her psyche unchallenged by any
critical tests. She wasn’t even quite sure what he’d been telling her; just that
she’d been mentally going along with whatever was said, unchallenged.
The commentator had stopped speaking, the TV was off. The door opened and
Herkle came in. He stood before her and slowly released the mask strapping her
head in place. Jill realized she was soaked in sweat, but worse her bottom was
wet, at some point her bladder had let go.
“Well Susan, what did you think, did you agree with the movie?” He asked
softly.
Jill knew she had to continue playing her part, she wasn’t sure what part
she was playing or why, it was too hard to think; she only knew she had a part
to play.
She let instinct guide her, “please just let me go.”
He smiled as he reached out to caress her cheek, “oh no Susan, you’re not
going anywhere. You’re a worthless slut and you are staying right here until you
learn that.” He pulled a flask out of his back pocket, held it up, “thirsty.” It
wasn’t a question.
She nodded, “yes sir.”
He uncapped it and offered it to her, she opened her mouth and he slipped
the flask past her lips. It was water (possibly drugged, but she didn’t think of
it until her was recapping the flask) and he gave her a good long drink.
“Are you hungry bitch?”
Jill forced tears to her eyes, “yes sir, please, please I’ll behave.”
He slapped her calmly, her face stung ears ringing, “shut up cunt. You
get fed when we decide you deserve it.”
“Yes sir.” Jill replied, knowing it was the proper response; she dropped
her eyes.
“Better.”
The video became interactive then, she watched helplessly as Herkle
adjusted her restraints, doing something to a machine beneath her chair. He then
sat behind her and the video started again, different this time. The commentator
began asking her questions, and if her response wasn’t the right one Herkle used
a little control in his hand to shock her. Apparently, they hadn’t yet designed
a computer program to do it she thought. However, the thought soon fled as the
new set of drugs he’d started dripping into her arm went to work.
More hours passed as Jill answered the commentator’s questions, agreeing
she was worthless meant to serve had no reason for being but to please men
etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…Herkle was replaced by Jeff, replaced by Mutt, by
other lesser henchmen, all shocked her if she hesitated or gave an improper
response. Jill felt herself failing, energy flagging drugs fogging her mind, she
couldn’t think could only react, and the only way to stop the pain was to
immediately give the right answer as the same basic questions were asked again
and again in a variety of ways. It was the carrot and the stick but all stick
and the only carrot in sight was the stick hovering over her without actually
descending. Finally, after a second straight day of answering the commentator,
she passed out…
* * * *
She came to lying on the floor, unbound. Herkle stood over her. She
looked up at him; he held a steaming earthenware bowl in his hands.
“Hungry bitch?” He asked.
Jill lay still on the floor simply nodded. She was starving and
exhausted, she had no idea how long she had been out but she did not feel
rested.
“Your Owner has decided to rename you; he thinks Sara is a better name
for you. What’s your name?”
Jill opened her mouth, tried to speak, and gagged; finally, she choked
out in a small voice, “Sara sir.”
He put the bowl down next to her. She could see it was filled with thick
stew, chunks of meat and potatoes, carrots and peas in thick, meaty gravy. Her
stomach growled. Her limbs trembled as she levered herself up sitting on her
ass, hovering over the bowl; there was no spoon. Hesitantly she reached out to
pick the bowl up.
“You’re not to touch it with your hands.” He said in a quiet ominous
voice.
Jill looked up at him; she knew what he wanted her to do. She nodded;
slowly painfully, she got to her knees. Palms flat on the floor on either side
of the bowl she brought her face down towards it. The thick meaty aroma wafted
up her nose, she took a deep breath, heaven; she didn’t care if it was drugged.
They had effective physical control of her, she couldn’t prevent them drugging
her, there was no point in trying. She heard Herkle move around behind her as
she bent further forward, bum lifting into the air as she began to lick at the
contents of the bowl. He watched her eat for a few seconds, she gobbled burning
her tongue and not caring, desperately needing the nourishment.
He spoke harshly, “did you wet yourself you dirty bitch?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, still playing her role drug fog
actually making it easier, “I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t help it.”
He reached out to cup her ass through her now dry but sticky PJ bottoms,
“you disgraceful bitch, you pissed yourself.”
Jill knew it was stupid but she felt a wash of shame flood through her;
her buttocks clenched as her stomach fluttered; she felt tears sting her eyes,
“I’m sorry.”
He snapped his fingers, “get your fucking pants off bitch.”
Hurriedly Jill took the pants off, hoping against hope she’d be allowed
to finish the bowl. He held out his hand and she gave him the bottoms, sat there
naked.
He sneered at the PJ’s, “you sick cunt! Weren’t you even taught manners?
Were you raised in a barn? Look at this!”
He shoved the bottoms into her face, rubbing them in; Jill could smell
her urine as she fell to her back. He chased her, grinding the thin cloth into
her face, she could feel his palm through the thin fabric. She didn’t try to
fend him off knowing he’d beat her. Instead she let herself start to cry as an
acceptable response. He continued to rant at her and even though she knew he was
doing it as part of a plan to break what she appeared to be, with the drugs
still seeping through her system making her feel vulnerable, heightening her
emotions and throwing her mentally off balance; Jill felt like a stupid dirty
child as he railed at her.
Desperately she retreated let the half-built but convincing shell that
was Susan, the cover built to let her worm her way into the cult, a cover built
to the point it could pass; giving convincing answers while exhausted or drugged
during normal brainwashing processes, Jill let it take control. Susan sobbed,
cried begged promised to do better, begged pitifully and asked his forgiveness.
Finally he relented, a tray had come into the room with him and a steaming bowl
of hot water sat on it with a rag. Crying Jill watched as Susan under his
direction, scrubbed her ‘dirty pussy’ clean with the hot water; scrubbing
herself thoroughly, her dark bristles glistening with the liquid as she mopped
at her privet places.
Finally when he decided she was clean enough, it was time for further
degradation he had her kneel, then he took her by the back of the neck and
forced her to bend forward again. Susan cried but didn’t fight as he pressed her
face firmly against the floor, his other hand cupping her bottom making her lift
it. She sobbed as he slid into her from behind, a swift thrust rough and brutal
as he raped her cruelly, intentionally hurting her as much as possible.
When he finished he told her to sit back in the chair, sobbing Susan
obeyed, too weak to fight and mentally beaten down. She cried and asked
wretchedly if she could finish the stew as he began strapping her in place,
almost gently he told her she didn’t deserve it; she moaned and cried head
hanging as Herkle finished restraining her.
* * * *
They moved onto the rules then, teaching her that her Master was the Way
of the Truth and the Light; again drugging her and impressing the point more
firmly with electro-shock. Looking back on it years later Jill was amazed just
how easy it was to break her; they repeated everything step by step, slowly.
Everything from how worthless she was on, got repeated again and again days
passed turning into weeks.
Her captors were experienced and careful, ensuring that the latest lesson
was firmly entrenched and holding her at a plateau of learning for a while,
before moving onto the next level. They broke her systematically, knowing
exactly what they were doing. Drugs and electro-shock coupled with force fed
lessons she had to memorize and repeat; they kept her constantly on the edge of
starvation, controlling her sleep patterns irregular in duration and timing
completely throwing off her bodily clock. They often gave her hours just to sit
and absorb the latest lesson, followed by intense questioning and refresher
courses as necessary.
It wasn’t long before Jill herself had to go far away, retreating deep
within her mind allowing Susan to come fully forth in order to hide who she
truly was, for they would kill an intelligence agent immediately. Of course
however, breaking Susan was their goal anyway and unfortunately for Jill,
breaking Susan involved taking away who and what she was. Which was almost
nothing as Susan was merely a thin shell covering a more complex person. It
wasn’t long before Susan learned that when they changed her name to Sara, they
really meant to make her over into Sara, she wasn’t allowed simply to call
herself Sara when asked and answer to the name. Her Owner expected, required her
to become Sara.
She tried many things to resist, calling upon every little trick Jill had
ever encountered or been taught in an attempt to stave off conditioning. They
systematically stripped each little defense from her, everything Jill could
think to try was defeated easily. She didn’t know exactly what drug cocktail
they were using but it wasn’t quite like anything she had experienced before.
She always felt clear headed, except she couldn’t actually think, that combined
with the steady unrelenting indoctrination process and the electro-shock
conditioning, simply wore down her defenses, breaking them from her and leaving
her bare. Finally Jill was reduced to using the sung ABC’s in an attempt to
drive out the voices pounding words at her from all sides, attempting to drown
out the commentator Herkle the Master, driving them back with a simple little
ditty every child knew. They took it from her, a few days of electro-shock
conditioning, as well as a gag as she was patiently lectured, made to feel
foolish; until finally merely the thought of singing the ABC’s made her feel
like a horrible, worthless, ungrateful child.
She had a moment of true panic when Master as he made her call him, moved
from simply drugging her to trying to hypnotize her, using threats to attempt to
make her cooperate (hypnotizing someone without their cooperation being almost
impossible). Susan tried to relax, as she did when she was absorbing yet another
lecture, she tried to open herself to her Master even though Jill knew a single
session of hypnosis would kill her. Fortunately the Master was unable to
hypnotize her, but he didn’t seem surprised, seemed almost to expect it; and
Jill knew he knew exactly what he was doing. He couldn’t honestly expect Susan
to open herself to him yet, but he was wearing her down; and as time passed
eventually there would come a time when Susan truly gave herself to her Master,
really became Sara, and then Jill would be gone.
Jill couldn’t fight, she tried but as the weeks passed, Susan came closer
and closer to truly being Sara. And as she fought, winter became spring, then
summer…
* * * *
A small circular room, ceiling lost in darkness as are the walls. A
high-powered spotlight 20 feet overhead the only light; it shone down balefully
on the center of the room throwing the rest of the chamber into deep shadow.
Jill stood on a little pedestal in the middle of the room; stark naked but
covered in sweat. Nine metal folding chairs were ranged around the two foot high
pedestal, a space heater on each blasted out waves of heat at her from all
sides, making the chamber unbearably hot; so hot it was hard to breath. Leather
restraints hobbled her ankles with a short chain leash, giving her only a little
play. Similar leather restraints attached to a chain disappearing up into the
light forced her wrists crossed and held just a little above her head, her arms
weren’t straight but were bent a little at the elbows. The pedestal’s top was a
flat square piece of smooth sheet metal, just big enough for her to stand on and
easily keep balance. The pedestal base was plastic; a little doorknob visible,
the inside filled with hot coals radiating heat up into the metal top.
Susan was just dripping streams of sweat, her entire body shone with it,
she was also lightly covered in a yellowish powder. Unable to stand still, she
twists and writhes in slow motion, clearly trying very hard not to; she lifted
first one hobbled foot off the hot metal for only seconds, then the other.
Reacting she grunted whined made strained and short explosive noises deep in her
chest, obviously fighting not to scream or beg. Herkle stood behind her on a
folding chair, in shorts latex gloves and a light t-shirt but still he’s
sweating. Her tormentor held a deep clear Tupperware container in his hand,
green lid dangling from two fingers the container about half full of yellow
powder, ‘itching powder’ was scrawled on the side in thick black marker. His
other hand dusted with powder caressed and rubbed Jill’s armpit.
He mocked her gently cajoling, “little warm in here isn’t it Sara? Itchy
aren’t you?” Suddenly, “what’s your name slave?”
She gasped between clenched teeth, “Susan!”
He moved on to the other armpit, continuing as if she hadn’t spoken, “now
Sara, wouldn’t you like a nice cold glass of lemonade, full of ice? Or I could
have you hosed down slave, nice and soaking wet and no more itching. I promise,
now tell me your name?” He continued rubbing smooth circles into her armpit
deeply.
She hesitated then resolutely answered, “Susan sir!” A half sob.
He nodded to himself calmly behind her, hand dipping back into the
container, “I see.”
He slipped his hand between her thighs, rubbing the powder deeply into
the vulva. She threw her head back and gave a loud strangled sob, unable to hold
still.
“Are you sure slave? Tell me why don’t you gyrate harder? Maybe you can
sweat the itch away.”
She gave no response just continued to writhe and grunt but he seemed to
require none. Taking his hand out from her thighs he wiped his fingers clean on
her butt before he put the lid on the container and got down off the chair. He
moved into the darkness as behind him Susan continued crying and gyrating.
Herkle approached a large oval door dimly lit with a red bulb above it,
Mutt and Jeff flanked it in shorts and t-shirts showing rippling muscle. Jill’s
Master the cult leader stood there too. A hawk-like aesthetically thin face, a
closely shaved head with very bushy eyebrows and just the slightest brown
moustache combined with large intense gray eyes worked together to give him an
aura of mysticism. Covered from neck to ankles in a long cassock like a priest’s
but the brown cloth was shiny silk brocaded and hemmed in gold thread, tiny
diamonds were sewn into hem and neckline; he looked like a decadent predator…and
the heat didn’t seem to affect him.
Herkle bowed to him deeply and spoke reverently, “my lord, your program
is being followed, soon she will come to know the truth.”
The cult leader looked at his pawn with predatory disinterest, “this is
the second time she has backslid. I keep having to push back certain
agendas.”
“She is strong willed, she will serve you well master, one day.”
“Does she recall she gave up Valira?”
“She was exhausted, starving, drugged, no she went from Sara back to
Susan Valiarose.”
“And how long has she been awake this time?”
“Five days my lord, I did give her an orange before she was brought in
here. She must have the strength to fight if we wish her to learn the truth of
you.”
The Master gave a curt nod, “move her back to the cold room, I sense she
dislikes it more; it gives her memories of something else.”
“As always, the will of the One True Light will be carried out my lord.”
Herkle bowed deeply.
The cult leader was bored again, “work her harder. I will return in about
four hours.”
* * * *
It was physically the same as the other room, except its spotlight was an
intense blue, instead of heaters refrigeration units hummed in the darkness.
Susan’s breath puffed frostily in the air, she shivered uncontrollably back
buttocks and sides streaked with whip marks. At first sight she appeared unbound
yet stands tippy-toed atop a large block of ice, arms crossed in front of her
protecting her belly and loins. A second look drew attention to her shivering
feet, large iron staples driven into the ice close over her big toes, holding
her feet in place. A bullwhip snaked out of the blackness, Susan gasped and
jumped as it curled around her upper thigh marking her again as it lanced pain
through her slim frame; it slithered and uncoiled.
“Name?”
“Susan.” She replied.
Herkle gave her another lash, “your name?” He prompted.
She gasped in pain at the blow, “Susan sir!”
On a high catwalk far above the pair, the Master watched the torture. A
five hour long segment of a months long process, one not finished yet, not
nearly. Herkle gave her another lash, curling across her belly.
“What is your name slave?”
“Sa,” she hesitated, “Susan Valirose!”
He lashed her buttock, “what are you?”
Whined, “a slave.”
Lash, “what are you?”
“A slave, master!”
“Name?”
She was tensed for a blow she hadn’t received, “Susan master.”
He whipped her leg, “what is your purpose Sara? What were you created
for?”
“To serve, master.”
“Tell me your name.”
Susan hesitated for a long moment as tears slid down her pain ravaged
face. After a second he lashed her across the back the blow slithering its way
down her spine; her lower lip trembled.
Harsh, demanding, “your name slave!” Merciless, he lashed her again.
A despairing cry, “Sara! Sara Master!” Jill began sobbing.
He waited a long moment, spoke gently as he whipped the ice near her
foot, “what’s your name?”
It was a sob, “Sara Master!”
The cult leader appeared out of the shadows behind her, Herkle whip
dangling in his hand respectfully stood ready behind him. Jill crying didn’t
note his approach; he carried a large gray humming electric blanket, draped over
his arm. The same hand held a shiny red plastic thermos; other hand a small
rough-hewn wood three-legged stool. He came up behind her and slipped this on
the ice, she started in surprise.
He spoke with apparent warmth, “there, there slave, don’t cry. Here,
sit.”
She hesitantly lowered herself to the stool, toes creaking with pain,
held as they were by the staples. “Thank you Master.” Sara gave him a tremulous
smile, hopeful yet fearful.
“You must be cold Sara, aren’t you?”
“Yes Master.”
He opened the blanket in answer, wrapping her in its artificial warmth.
She took it gratefully pulled around her frozen nudity.
He rubbed her back gently through the blanket as he said, “that’s better
Sara, isn’t it?”
“Yes Master.” Pause, whisper, “I want to please you.”
A warm smile barely masked the predatory smirk she clearly couldn’t,
didn’t want, wasn’t able to allow herself, to see. He unscrewed the top of the
thermos, filling the plastic cup lid with a thick stew, gently steaming.
“You must be hungry slave.” He put the thermos down on the ice, “and this
will warm you, what’s your full name again?”
Sara answered, no sign of Jill, “Sara Master, your slave.” She reached
for the cup.
Soothing, “no my pretty little slave, keep your hands in the blanket, let
me help you.”
She relented allowing him to bring the cup to her lips. She slurped at
the offering, making him smile.
“You can have the entire thermos greedy.” He gave her another slurp, “and
then perhaps you’d like to take a nap for a few hours Sara? A little rest before
we talk a bit?”
“Yes Master, thank you Master.” She gave him an adoring look over the rim
of the cup as she slurped greedily; beyond starvation.
* * * *
Things progressed smoothly from there; she was indoctrinated into the
cult and taught how to please. Her new Master hypnotized her and things went
even faster as Sara gave herself to her Owner completely.
Only as time passed did she come to know she had told him everything,
every secret she possessed; and she was gratified her Master chose to keep her
rather than kill a trained intelligence agent. Not that they spoke of it openly,
they didn’t need to, but she was proud to place her full range of abilities at
his service. She knew she had been broken down before she had come to serve the
Light but by the time she came to remember everything clearly it no longer
mattered, she was her Master’s.
She didn’t remember absolutely everything however; she only remembered
she had told him everything about herself, forgetting the fact that her memories
had been altered. She remembered her last little bit of silliness her last
vestiges of resistance; never remembering that the entire thing had been
programmed from the second she was dragged into the room. Her responses to the
stimuli, even her emotional reactions to it, pre-programmed into her beforehand,
designed to break the last little bit of her.
* * * *
The fairly large padded room was a soothing light green shade. No door
was visible and the sole occupant lay still in the middle of the room. The only
sounds were Jill’s quick shallow panting and an annoyingly loud all pervasive
and slightly irregular hum; from the steady unflickering very strong bank of
fluorescents set into the high ceiling. The light filled the room harshly,
bathing Jill in its intensity; leaving no shadows.
She was emaciated, covered in a patina of bruises and welts centered
mostly on her back buttocks belly and breasts. Her face was untouched her hair
long and ragged greasy and unwashed. Jill’s breathing quick and shallow, she lay
with her knees drawn up and moved very little. She had no idea any more how long
she had been in the room, it had become her world; that and the beatings and the
lectures. She didn’t really remember much of her life before the room, except of
course those parts of it her tormentors questioned her about; Sara didn’t
remember anymore how long she had been in their power, it felt like her entire
life.
She had her wrists shackled behind her in leather ‘humane restraints’
ankles similarly hobbled, she was resting from the last session of lectured
question and response. Her Owner was bringing her to the Light, she was being
trained to please and to serve; he told her that soon she would come to truly
know, and appreciate, the Light. She desperately needed rest but she couldn’t
sleep, she just waited for her teachers to return and resume the lessons.
Sara kept her head raised slightly gaze fixed sightlessly on the nearest
wall. Eyes abnormally wide glazed and unfocused with very big pupils as if it
was dark, she blinked often but her eyes didn’t refocus or lose the glaze; she
didn’t seem really aware of her surroundings. Her muscles spasmed and jittered,
twitching jerking in small flutters clearly beyond her control, as if she was
highly caffeinated or otherwise drugged.
Finally after an interminable time her head slowly lowered to the padded
floor, a moment and she took a deep shuddering breath held it let it out in a
sigh; breathing more normally her eyes slowly slipped closed. A moment passed
and she didn’t open them. A loud ‘CLACK!’ echoed through the padded room, a
heavy lock disengaging.
Sara’s eyes snapped wide open still glazed, she left her head on the
floor; although the light was unchanging, to her dulled drugged senses the hum
faded away quickly as a door shaped section of wall swung open. Jeff stepped
into the room closing the door behind him. Sara’s drug skewed perspective
manifested itself as movement, a hazy afterimage trail followed moving things
(I.E. his walk across the room left a slowly fading line of Jeff’s, the door
openingclosing leaving behind a slowly fading trail of doors). Jeff moved
forward, bending down he yanked Jill up into a half sit by the hair. He slapped
her across the face screaming at her.
Ranting he demanded, “you’re a worthless bitch aren’t you! Who do you
think you are to resist the coming of the son of god? Stop fighting you stupid
cunt! You are nothing! You must give yourself to the light! You know that don’t
you, you stupid cow? Even a bint like you must know she is nothing before the
second coming! A coming your Master paves the way for! Stop fighting bitch! Give
yourself to your Owner! Do as you are told! Surrender! Don’t fight you bitch! Do
you understand! Are you still going to fight? Huh? Are you, you stupid cow?” He
kept it up at a scream, punctuated with regular, hard stinging slaps across the
face.
Sara kept nodding in agreement, replying yes or no where appropriate,
utterly meek and without resisting. He hauled her to her feet still yelling as
she nodded submissively and continued to reply in agreement. He pushed her back
repeatedly, forcing her to limphobble back until she was against the wall, once
there he yelled some more and she nodded in response. He grabbed her by her
throat and began to undo his jeans with his other hand; Sara made absolutely no
attempt to resist as he forced her knees wide and raped her fast; at least from
her drugged exhausted viewpoint. Done he stepped back did up his pants, then
viciously slapped her hard across the face; a blow which dropped her to her
knees before him and he immediately kicked her in the belly. She curled into a
ball against the wall with a moan, Jeff pulled a capped needle out of his jeans;
uncapping it he stuck her in the ass and shot her full of drug. Then he left
opening the door easily and closing it behind him. Sara didn’t move, instantly
upon the door’s close, it opened again; the after trail still present included
the door, but not interestingly enough to Jill’s skewed senses, her own
movements.
Herkle came in, Sara’s head jerked off the floor as he harangued her
while approaching. “Well Sara, have you learned you’re nothing yet? You are just
too stupid to get it aren’t you! You cunt, you are nothing before your Owner!
You must give yourself to him completely! You must come to know the truth of the
way and the light! Come away from the darkness Sara! Step into the warmth and
love of the light! Stop fighting and come to us, come to know the truth!” He
dropped to his knees beside her grabbing her hair and pulling her a little away
from the wall.
He twisted her head cruelly to one side, she submitted softly agreeing to
his words, “yes sir, I want to love the light; please help me come to the light.
I only want to give myself over to my Master, please tell me what to do?”
In answer, he pulled his pants down and Sara, knowing what was needed,
gave him a blowjob, over quickly from her drugged viewpoint. When he was done he
pulled out a needle from a breast pocket and gave her a shot in the ass;
standing he did up his pants and left. Again Jill lay unmoving, unthinking,
where he left her; upon door’s close it opened again, the very large Mutt
entered.
He crossed the room quickly. Grabbed her caveman style and dragged her to
the middle of the room, yelling at her.
“You ugly stupid cunt! You are going to obey your Master! You will learn
to do whatever you are told! You will not fight anymore you bitch! It’s time for
you to grow up you lazy cow! You will give yourself over to the light!”
Sara cried and agreed to obey as he hauled her by the hair back to the
middle of the room. Releasing her hair, he kicked her in the stomach. Jill
rolled to her belly and he stood astride her, toeing her hard in the side until
she slowly got to her knees under him; he’s undoing his jeans. Dropping to his
knees over her, clamping a ham like hand on her neck he slid the other under her
rear forcing her face against the padded floor ass into the air. He too raped
her, hard and brutally in her abused starfish; finished he gave her a shot and
left quickly.
Immediately Master in his brown silk robe carrying a three-legged stool
entered; Sara has collapsed onto her side, now looks exactly as she did before
this latest round of ‘lecturing’ began, except she was lying in the other
direction.
At sight of her Owner, Jill’s hearing seemed to return. She could hear
her own ragged exhausted and pain stricken panting and the hum of the lights,
also the rustle of Master’s robe against the floor as he put the stool in front
of her face. She closed her eyes, slight smile on her face, happy her Owner was
here to make her surrender to his will.
He lowered himself onto the stool, reached down and gathered an
uncalloused handful of her hair with manicured fingers. Mordicia Jed pulled her
up so she was half-kneeling half leaning against his leg, his grip forced her
head lifted up to him but tired beyond belief, her eyes remained closed; as the
chemicals inducing insomnia began to wear under the constant strain…she had been
awake for six straight days. His other hand reached down digging into the
muscles of her shoulder, finding expertly squeezing; Sara’s eyes popped open as
she moaned in pain squirming until he let go.
In a cold predator voice, “your name slave, purpose?”
Immediate programmed response, “Sara the slave Master, I am female and I
thus exist solely to wait on your pleasure. I want only to please you.”
“How long have you been in this room?”
“I don’t know Master.”
“Guess.”
“Months, a year?” She was guessing, she had long ago lost all track of
time, her internal clock ravaged and useless. She hoped desperately her answer
could please him, but she had no idea if it was even close.
His voice was utterly cold, “you think you could take adrenalin that long
and live?”
Whined, “no.”
Cold calculating demand designed to confirm the truth, and bring tears,
“describe the priest at the orphanage, tell me how old you were when he took
your maidenhead.”
Her eyes teared as she remembered everything with crystal unnatural
clarity, “he was fifty, balding with gray eyes and fat lips, he had a big gut
and he pressed me down hard on the bed, but it hurt more when he made me kneel
across the chair. I was six the first time Master.”
“You’re ready to serve the One True Light in any way necessary, aren’t
you Sara?”
Immediate, “yes Master.”
Silently he stared piercingly into her eyes, after a moment Sara’s eyes
closed she yawned, her eyes remained closed; he jolted her awake with a moan
strong experienced fingers finding the bundle of nerves in her shoulder.
Awake even more now, exhaustion driven just a little back by agony, and
the fear of more; she looked submissively brokenly, into his eyes. He studied
her a moment then apparently satisfied he made a negligent gesture with one
hand. He Let Jill go, so she slumped to the floor; moments later the door swung
open again, clearly the room was monitored. Master got to his feet watching a
sort of awake Jill, as Mutt and his brother Jeff half carried, half dragged a
woman in.
Abused much worse than Jill not bound, she was naked her entire body
covered in old and fresh bruises. Dark blood dribbled from her mouth and her
fingers were twisted at odd angles, eyes swollen closed cheeks puffy nose broken
she lacked several teeth.
Mutt and Jeff dropped the meat to its back on the floor; it moaned
arching just a little shifting a bit before lying still. Jill too lay still,
eyes only for Master. She didn’t react as Mutt and Jeff removed her restraints,
freeing her.
Listening intently devotedly as a dog listens to a beloved master,
“unlike you slave, Francine has failed to please me.” He paused, watching Jill
gaze at him in adoring submission. Restraints in hand his disciples gathered the
stool as well; and left the room.
Jed reached slowly into a fold of his robe, pulling out a wooden handled wire
garrote as he addressed his slave, “she refuses to love the light as you do, so
Sara, I will give her to the clowns.” Words pregnant with an understood command
he dropped the garrote beside a broken, desperately in love with him, Jill.
“Come find me when you are done.” He finished in a tone clearly expecting
obedience.
Without awaiting her response, he left, leaving the door wide open. A
pause filled the room with its tensely waiting breath, Sara broken, unaware of
much of her past yet filled with all the skills of a superb intelligence agent;
gathered the garrote and climbed slowly painfully to her feet. She swayed a bit
getting her balance, slowly mechanically the assassin made her way to the other
girl.
Slowly, weak and unsteady, mounted the helpless women kneeling astride
her chest. Sara looked down at the victim for a long moment; fingers twist, pull
at the garrote. Sara didn’t think it was anyone she knew, but she couldn’t
really be sure. The woman, clearly not aware of anything but pain gave a
wordless ragged whining moan; with a flick of trained wrists, Sara looped the
weapon over the woman’s head, expertly pulled it taut around her throat…
* * * *
“You fuckers!” Mayia slammed her hand down on the table with a crack like
a gunshot.
The fortyish CIA agent across the table just smiled at her lazily, “we
did everything we could, what more do you want?”
“I wanted you to pull her out or authorize her to go in and finish it you
idiot! She warned us weeks ago she was next in line!”
“It’s not over yet, she’s only missed two contacts. She could pop up at
any moment.” The other agent, Mayia thought she was CIA but wasn’t sure, hints
suggested it might be a DOD liaison, said from across the room.
Mayia didn’t take her gaze off the CIA man, she used her flat deadly
voice, “Jill Valira is the best agent our origination had and she came
originally from you, if she said he was going to make her disappear, that’s what
she meant. You fuckers”
She was cut off, “the agent coded Jack Waters,” the agent stressed the
words, “whom we know you consider a friend, is indeed the best. If anyone can
come through this, it would be her. We’re still waiting to hear from Washington,
where your superiors, and ours.”
“Shut up.” Mayia warned, he stopped surprised, “you fuck heads are still
hoping he’ll actually finish whatever little experiment he’s doing so you can
move in and steal it from him. That’s why you got a good agent, the best agent
alive, killed. Why didn’t you send in your b team if all you wanted was to throw
away bait?”
The woman spoke behind her, “we’ve sent people in, they never got a
thing, just disappeared; his screening process is too good. However, as for his
experiment, we don’t even know who this guy is but his brainwashing technique
can’t be anything too special, I wouldn’t even worry about it.”
Mayia turned to face her, “slick as a Hollywood blockbuster, with a
polished acting you couldn’t get out of a scared woman with a gun to her head.
And the deaths are undoubtedly very, very real. One woman slit her wrists with a
silly grin on her face, then knelt on cold concrete and sung, with excellent
pitch, a complicated little song even as she bled out onto the floor.” She
paused, “that’s a quote from one of your own agents, what kind of brainwashing
process do you know that will make a person commit suicide like that?”
The woman shrugged, “we don’t know everything yet.”
“I have half a mind to drag you outside and” Mayia cut off as the door
opened.
The FBI agent technically in charge stepped in, “we’ve heard from
Washington. We’re going to coordinate with other countries, move on all his
compounds simultaneously.”
“That could take days, weeks!” Mayia exploded.
The agent looked at her, “longer, we’re getting warrants everything will
be at least technically legal. Try more like months.”
“Jill will be dead!”
The DOD (possibly) agent piped in, “she probably already is, whoever
Mordicia Jed actually is, he seems to understand the human mind. I’m sure if he
suspected her, he could find out everything, there are plenty of drugs that can
be resisted only so long, anyone will eventually spill their guts. It’s one of
the reasons we needed Valira, she was so highly trained; and specially prepared
for this mission as you know.”
“I still never agreed with that.” Mayia growled, “I have to talk to her
husband.”
“Not yet though,” the CIA agent at the desk said, “not until we go in
there, just keep him reassured until then.”
“Fuck you.” Mayia said in a sullen tone that let him know she’d do it,
she was Jill’s handler and her best friend, it was her job.
The phone on the agent’s desk rang; before he could answer it Mayia
stepped forward and hit the speakerphone. The agent glared for a long moment.
Finally a voice filtered through the speaker, “hello? This is com
central, hello?”
“Yes com,” the CIA agent spoke, “what’s the problem?”
“The static posts around the OTL’s compound sir, they missed their check
in and aren’t responding to hails.”
“Which static post?” He asked idly.
“All of them sir. We sent a rover team to check them.”
CHAPTER ONE
When Sara came out of the padded cell she made her way unsteadily down a
short hall debouching into a small room, four bare concrete walls and a cement
floor. Her Master stood there, waiting; at his feet was a steaming bowl. Slowly
Sara approached him, at his signal she dropped smoothly to her knees in the
graceful manner they had trained into her. Kneeling with her back straight,
breasts out belly sucked in, she placed her hands palm flat on her thighs and
looked up at him waiting. He held out his palm; a shiny metal object lay nestled
in it, Sara saw it was a razor blade. Slowly she reached out, looking at him to
be sure she was supposed to take his gift, he nodded and she picked it up.
“Place your right arm into the hot water and slit your wrist crosswise.”
He said with an unreadable expression, he turned and left the room as Sara
immediately obeyed.
She was happy to obey, for some reason she felt that this was only right
and proper; she was meant to do exactly this. Blood flowed into the bowl as she
watched his back retreating from the room, without further instructions Sara
knelt there as she bled into the bowl. Seconds passed, half a minute the liquid
level in the bowl rose as her blood filled it, pinkish water began to spill
around her knees as she knelt. A minute passed, she knelt and watched the tinge
in the bowl become a deeper shade of red, Sara was happy she could please her
Master. Another minute passed and she felt light headed, she clenched her hand
into a fist, pressing it more firmly into the bowl; weak starving she watched
the floor rush up towards her face as she passed out.
Highly trained and resilient, even her broken body recovered quickly.
Master let her spend a week in bed, eating sleeping; recovering the strength
he’d had to take from her in order to break her. She didn’t remember it but they
spent much of that time with her in a deep hypnotic trance, reaffirming her
training, and learning from each other, as she told him everything she hadn’t
yet and he implanted deep commands within her mind. Finally the time came when
she was strong again.
* * * *
“You are my crowning achievement to date Sara.” Her Master said.
She sat primly in the chair across his desk, she was dressed all in black
a silenced pistol hung under her armpit, in the other arm a pair of extra clips
sat waiting.
“Yes sir.” She answered meekly, ducking her head.
He smiled, “the data collected from you will serve me well, and finally
with you, I can make a pipe dream become a reality. You Sara are going to help
me spread the Truth of the Way and the Light. I will bring you fresh converts
slave, and you will train them to be like you. You know Sara that there are
bastions of darkness out there, those who resist the coming of the Light, those
who would stop your Master by any means necessary.”
“Yes Master.” Sara replied, waiting only to be told whom she must kill
for him, a task she knew she was good at.
He went on, “you my dear, are going to forge me a shield and a strong
right arm.”
Sara, broken to his will yet had all her training and experience, meekly
ready to serve she easily translated that as bodyguards and assassins. She
applauded her Master for his foresight, speaking from a practical point of view,
which he had drilled into her as her job the strategist once for his enemies and
now for him, she knew it was the right move.
She had to warn him however, “Master, I cannot make them as good as me,
not alone without support personnel and equipment, not with all the time in the
world. I was always better then everyone else, I was always the best; but I
cannot bring them to my level of skill.”
“But you can make them better so much better than the talent commonly
available on the street, I know you can; we discussed it while I was bringing
you to the Light.”
Sara inclined her head speaking openly, knowing it was expected and
required, his slave, but a slave with a mission, “yes Master given time, I can
bring a willing,”
“Oh they’ll be willing slave, they will love the Light as you do.” He
interrupted.
Sara grinned, happy her Master would spread his word to the world, “I can
make them better than anything the average criminal elements will have, only
quasi-military forces, full of former Marians and foreign agents, will have
anything approaching it, given time I can form squads groups trained, much
better than any agent working alone. Perfect for your purposes Master.”
“Good, I am preparing a place for you to train them, in the meantime
Sara, now that I have something so much better than Mutt and Jeff, even than
Herkle, I have a thing or three for you to do before the first girls are ready.”
Sara nodded, “yes Master.”
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Children`s Fiction
Non-Adult Fiction
