Darkroom Saga Omnibus 1

by Poppet

  “Shauna this is Pete. Pete, my fiancee Shauna.”

  Pete is the same height and build as Victor, except he has light grey eyes and short sandy blond hair, worn ruffled in the 'just-out-of-bed' look. He seems nice enough as he flashes a perfect smile at me, holding out a hand, “Nice to finally meet the girl who got the guy.”

  He makes it sound like I seduced Victor, knowing he was this loaded. I couldn't premeditate anything if I tried.

  An uncomfortable heat smothers my cheeks as I shake his large hand in return. His hands are rougher than Victor's. Trying not to be obvious I drop my gaze, noting manicured and clean fingernails. “Nice to meet you Pete.”

  He shoots a wry grin at Victor, giving me a chance to examine his face. He looks almost like a surfer, he has that relaxed air about him. His face holds dimples in each cheek, and is smoothly shaven.

  He looks so out of place in this refined super deluxe boat and I've just noticed he has a hole in his light blue jeans in the left knee. I'm instantly embarrassed as he catches my eye, smiling widely, noting my surveillance.

  He turns around, revealing perfect gashes in the back of each thigh, “They're designed to look like this,” he teases me before heading away to the controls.

  Victor flops down next to me, planting a kiss in my neck, “Get comfortable baby, we're off to the boat.”

  “The boat?”

  Commandeering my chin, his sunglasses propped on his head, he leans in to suck the breath out of me before murmuring, “A cruise. He'll never find us out there.”

  Pete cuts the engine and I finally stop staring out of the window at the endless sea all around us, as far as the eye can see. It's such a perfect day, hot and sunny; a gentle breeze kissed my hair on the shore earlier.

  My stomach is a knot of anxiety as I let Victor lead me behind him, holding my hand, guiding me onto the deck of the yacht. Immediately his deep baritone begins explaining what I'm looking at, “This is a sixty meter Orcageno, with enough room for a crew of fourteen, and twelve guests.”

  Leading me up steps he continues, “Open air lounge, sun deck, Jacuzzi, and spa. It was designed by the Egyptian studio Pharos Marine.”

  I'm not used to this. I still think of him as my neighbour who lives in a small apartment next door to mine. I have to ask, “Is it yours?”

  The smile he gives me is smug as he nods in a dismissive way. Forcing me to trail him as he strolls to the bar, pouring himself a whiskey, then pouring me lemonade with a twist of lime and ice. “Pete's our captain. So we can just sit back and relax. It's just the three of us for the next six weeks.”

  “Six weeks?” Vertigo snaps my confidence, making me sit down heavily on a stool in front of his bar, “Holy crap.”

  Coming to stand behind me, he folds his hands possessively over my abdomen, “You needed to get away and relax. This is for you angel.”

  We're in the middle of nowhere on an azure ocean. We start moving, and I watch as we slip serenely through choppy water, surrounded with nothing more than a salty aroma, the only witness I have is the sun which is becoming really hot. Taking a sip of my lemonade, I replace the glass on the bar.

  Leaning my head against him, closing my eyes. I'm overwhelmed. He's a whirlwind. Baby steps, I needed to be introduced to all of this with baby-steps. All the fighting and now this? How am I suppose to cope?

  The world spirals dizzily when he picks me up, a roguish smile on his face, carrying me below deck to the cabins.

  •

  Victor:

  She's asleep, finally I get a chance to be alone with Pete.

  “So what are we using? Diesel or liquid hydrogen?”

  “Hydrogen for now,” Pete responds lazily. Wearing nothing more than his baggies, feet propped up on the chair opposite his. Arching a serious eyebrow, he keeps his voice low, “So what's the plan Vee?”

  “She can't run away now. It's time to reintroduce her to the cell. I'm going to spin her a story of it being therapy. Which isn't exactly a lie. Cognitive behavioural therapy works exactly like this. Forcing the patient to face their fear, by being put into the same situation, with someone they trust. Facing their fear to overcome their phobia and deep seated psychological paranoia.”

  He nods, smiling coldly. “And if it doesn't work?”

  “It will work. I checked with Seth though, we can administer Flunetrazepam in the first trimester. Although it's a last resort.”

  “Flunetrazepam?”

  “Roofies, Rohypnol, whatever you want to call it.”

  “Okay,” he nods, taking a sip of his lager.

  So proud I've thought of this, I share with my most trusted ally, “And, we're going to try hypnosis.”

  He starts laughing at me, smiling widely.

  “You brought your armour?” I check.

  “Yep. And yours.”

  “Good.”

  “What about emergencies?”

  “You have everything you need, Doc. One cabin has been converted into your very own mini hospital. And we have James on standby with the chopper if we need to evacuate.”

  That eases my mind. He can fly that Apache in any weather. The manoeuvres that helicopter can do will get us out of any situation, with fire power as back up if we require it. The plan is perfect. Holding out my glass of Macallan 1926 whisky, he tips his bottle against it. A silent toast to the final phase of inducting Shauna into the brotherhood.

  •

  Shauna:

  Days follow days, follow weeks. I've lost complete track of time. I have a deep bronze tan which a tanning salon would go bankrupt for, and am finally comfortable walking around in just my bikini.

  Pete feels like the furniture now. He has a calm demeanour and a way of blending. Often I think I'm alone, out on the deck sun tanning, listening to my iPod and enjoying the perks of being Victor's pregnant babe. Yet out of a shadow, he'll suddenly materialise. At first it startled the breath out of me. Now I think he's sort of Victor's bodyguard, placed to make sure I'm okay while Victor does … whatever the hell it is that Victor does. The two of them do all the cooking, and I'm supposed to stay relaxed and happy.

  We haven't argued, we haven't had a single altercation. There's a games-room where we play cards, I always lose. I win at Scrabble though. And there are all of the digital comforts. Apparently this boat has solar and wind power generators too. And after endless nagging, they finally told me we're anchored somewhere between Durban and Mauritius. The shadow of Pete lurks about ten meters away from me, and I am pretending I haven't seen him, when Victor comes and sits next to me. Politely I take out my earphones, shading my eyes to smile at Mr I-love-screwing-you-on-a-boat.

  “How are you feeling, angel?”

  “Good, happy …”

  “Shauna, we need to talk about a new therapy that might help you.”

  Sitting up, I pull my hat on, giving him my full attention, “Why do I need therapy?”

  Leaning forward, propping his elbows on his knees, wearing nothing more than black board-shorts, he speaks intimately, “Honey, you still have the nightmares and I'm beginning to fear for the safety of junior with this level of subconscious stress you're carrying.”

  Although I'm comfortable with Pete, he's easy going and congenial, and has a calm way that diffuses tension, I am horrified that Victor is having this discussion out here where it could be overheard.

  “I've told Pete. I trust him, and he had to be prepared for your midnight screaming in your sleep.” He rubs my leg absently, “He's the only man on this planet I trust with my life, which is why he's the only other person here.”

  Why hasn't he mentioned this before? It would have relaxed me to know that. “What are you suggesting exactly?”

  “Exposure Therapy. It's a section of Cognitive Behaviour Therapy.”

  “What's that?”

  “That is me, putting you back into a similar situation that Vengeance did, except this time, instead of torturing you, we make it pleasurable. What this does is retrain your mind t
o stop having negative associations with – for example, white ribbon, and sex. And leather. I haven't worn my leather jacket once, because I'm aware of how the smell alone will trigger your adrenal glands and stress your body and your mind.” He leans closer, our lips almost touching, his breath infusing with mine, “Babes, I want us to face your internal demons. Let me help you.”

  “I … hell Vic … I'm not sure if I'm strong enough.”

  “Don't you love me?”

  “Yes, but …”

  “Do you love our baby?”

  “Yes …”

  “He is stressed along with you. You are damaging him in your sleep. Please angel, let me help you.”

  Jesus, when he puts it like that … Swallowing heavily, feeling ill, I nod. “But Vic, please, be patient, be gentle with me.”

  He prevents further discussion by inspecting my tonsils with his tongue.

  •

  Victor:

  She looks terrified sitting with her knees up on the bed. Still wearing her white bikini, I can't help smiling at her. My angel must always wear white. Slowly, deliberately, I wrap the white ribbon around her wrists. Just her wrists. Moving away from the bed, I pick up the camera, watching her shudder, instantly pale, as I click. She can be so determined when she puts her mind to something. Walking toward her, I lower the lens, dropping down to stare up at her, to see the terror in her eyes. She blinks, her grip is tenuous.

  I rub her thigh gently, trailing my hand down her leg, caressing, leaning in I kiss the inside of her knee, “I love you Shauna.”

  Nodding woodenly, she inhales deeply.

  “This is how it works. This is us now baby. He's not here. I'm not going to hurt you.”

  She tilts her head back, breathing in deeply and slowly. “Just kiss me. Hold me. This terrifies the crap out of me.”

  Moving next to her, I wrap my arms around her, cradling her head to my chest, “Shhh. It's just us.”

  I give her a few minutes of calm before holding her hair. Wrapping the long brown tresses tightly around my fist, I tug on it without release, forcing, silently. Tilting her head back, exposing her neck.

  “Vic … I …”

  “Shhh,” I kiss her deeply until she starts to respond. Lifting her hands neatly bound together by their wrists, I suck two of her fingers into my mouth, staring into her glistening eyes, widely afraid, watching me. “See? We will turn your fear into love. Let's undo what he did, and make it ours.”

  She nods, a tear falls. Slowly I unwrap the ribbon, wrapping it instead around her eyes.

  “Inhale. Breathe deeply. Engage all of your senses. Run your hands over me, breathe in my scent. Replace the image that haunts you subconsciously, with me.”

  Nodding, her mouth twisting dramatically, she leans into my neck, resting her head on my shoulder, shaking with silent crying.

  “I can't … no more … not tonight … please …”

  “One more photo. Just one? I'm here angel, I'm here to hold you and protect you. You know it's me, you know I won't hurt you.”

  A pitiful sniff responds to my suggestion, her husky voice finally speaks to me, “Okay. Just one.”

  Smiling, I step away from her, snapping the shutter, capturing her first step, back into captivity. It's called capturing for a reason. I love photography.

  ~ Chapter 42 ~

  For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but of power

  ~2 Timothy 1:7

  Victor:

  I have fantasised for so many years of becoming a father. A father and his son share a unique bond. I won't know if it's my son she's carrying until we're halfway through the pregnancy. Only then will it show up on ultrasound. But this step of her preparation is absolutely necessary.

  Alpha taught me everything I'll ever need to know about conditioning and breaking a mind. It starts in the womb. If you want your son to bow to your authority without question, that dominance must be established before he is born.

  The time has come too, to break Shauna. There is only one man I trust, or would allow, to assist me in this task. He's watching me carefully, fully prepped.

  Father's own words filter through my mind. Fondly I recall being chained over the log outside in the snow. We began each day this way.

  “He Who disciplines and instructs the nations, shall He not punish; Psalm 94:10.” Being only three years old, I worshipped him.

  “I love you, son. Do not think I am doing this to persecute you. I must discipline you. It is the law. It is our way. There is only one way into heaven, and it's not easy. It means to bear this pain with bravery, because it prepares you for heaven. It will take you up those steps to the kingdom. The kingdom is ours Victor. Yours and mine.”

  Tears of joy bathed my face as I cried out with rapturous joy, “Thank you, Father.”

  “Blessed is the man whom You discipline and instruct, and teach out of Your law; Psalm 94:12”

  The rod was so thin, it would cut straight through my skin. The pain would begin to numb all sensation, until I could hear just the contact.

  “This is harder for me to do, than it is for you to receive it. Victor, I the Father, the Alpha, love you. It is because I love you that I take your salvation seriously. I'm lifting you up. Praise my name.”

  “Praise you, Father. My Alpha. The Watcher. Thank you for making me, for making me the Omega. I love you Father. Thank you for disciplining me.”

  I would lay there for another hour, before I could summon the strength to move. He made me a man. A man of God.

  I shed blood, that was my right as the first born son of God. I used to stare at the red staining the snow with morbid fascination. It's a sight that is primal for me. Blood spilled is still my greatest turn on. I developed an appetite for it, especially when it stopped being mine, and became someone else whose soul required intervention.

  That's what we do. Once saved, it is our duty to save others. The devil has always been resistant. The bodies he inhabits struggle against the changes, but we'll never stop. Alpha's nemesis will be exorcised from those we can save, or have the potential to be saved.

  “He will die for lack of discipline and instruction, and in the greatness of his folly he will go astray and be lost; Proverbs 5:23”

  “For the commandment is a lamp, and the whole teaching is light, and reproofs of discipline are the way of life; Proverbs 6:23”

  Oh how I've longed to share those words with my own son. I've lived for the day a fallen angel turns from sin, into our arms, resurrected. The negative developed fully, so that the positive result of a beautifully rendered photo shares my life, shares her body, turning to her natural state of lust for only what is good, as God created her. Her duty to surrender her body to me. Owning her mind and body completely so that Our will is done.

  She's finally here. My child is growing inside her, owning her from the inside, and we take every measure to ensure development will be perfect. The food we give her is heavily dosed with the nutrients to build my warrior inside her. Now together we own her, from the inside and the outside. She is mine, all mine.

  “Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him; Proverbs 22:15”

  “Discipline your son while there is hope; Proverbs 19:18”

  Father made me Vengeance. He chose my path and gave me the power. I recall every beating. Covered in welts so severe I could not wear clothing for weeks. My tears are weak in the eyes of the Father. But tears of joy, yes, they are God's gift to the weak. It makes them strong.

  If only I could explain this to Shauna. She's worn sinner's shoes for too long. Her feet are covered in Satan's blisters. She cannot understand, which is why I am forced to resort to this. So excited. The thrill of what we are about to do gives me a giddy surge of potency. Father instructed me, he said, “He who spares his rod of discipline hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines diligently and punishes him early; Proverbs 13:24.”

  “I won't let you down, Father. This is
our cross to bear. I love my son, and her body is simply in the way. She stands between our will and my son.”

  Yes, the discipline starts early. It is in the bible, which is Father's law, which mankind has chosen to ignore. The peril of their eternal souls matters not. They see only what this world has to offer in their short-sighted greed. But look at all that I own and know that we are blessed, richly rewarded in Heaven and on earth for our loyalty and faith.

  Sipping more of my forty-six year old Glen Garioch whisky, appreciating the delectable peat and woody flavours, I swirl it absently around my mouth before swallowing.

  A bundle of nerves collect at the bottom of the spinal column. They are a direct connection to the brain, the mind. To break Shauna we have to fuck her like we mean it, causing stimulation to explode where the nerves converge together.

  We have to shatter her mind and the compartments that keep it whole. I have to drug her for this, although we'll try the hypnosis first. Most minds are more susceptible to hypnosis when exhausted. We've used the classic sleep deprivation employed by the military to break down her resistant will. We've deliberately kept odd hours, giving her only three hours rest at a time.

  Four hours is a sleep cycle, the body quickly becomes weak and easy to break when it doesn't receive a full sleep cycle. She will be treated like the soulless animal she is. On her knees, for the rest of the time we are here. She will not remember, but the nerves will do the work for us. We must slam hard, causing pain to ripple up those nerves, triggering shock in her brain, fragmenting the barriers of resistance.

  That crap you see in movies with whores writhing and moaning while getting nailed from behind, that's utter shit. A woman being ridden properly cannot speak. The nerve endings steal her breath in pulsating shock with every thrust. I've already tried it on Shauna. The best part is how willing she is to get on her knees for me. She tells me it's a hot and cold sensation that runs the whole length of her body, causing her hair follicles to become rigid, her nipples harden, and she commented once that it's almost meditative.