by Poppet
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.
Slowly I rub her thigh, 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
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. 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 sl
eep 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.
How ignorance is bliss. She has no idea how many nerve endings I'm playing with when I do that. Or that it flows directly to her brain. That it is an ancient brainwashing technique. Oh yes, I think we're going to enjoy breaking the mother, more than taming the son.
We've given her thirty minutes of therapy each night. She's getting accustomed to it now. Surrendering herself to being tied up while I slowly watch her eyes glaze in sexual euphoria. I work hard to keep her blind, while retraining her mind to accept bondage. As my swan glides toward me in another white bikini, I smile at her. A shooting star blazes briefly beyond her in the dark of the night.
Peter sits companionably in the chair adjacent to mine. I've watched his anticipation grow. I have to train him, he has allowed me to help in the punishment of his catches, now I have to let him attempt the final hurdle.
"Angel, come and kiss me." Dutifully she sashays to me, sitting soft thighs on my legs as she tucks hair behind her ear to kiss me. Gently holding my face and staring into my eyes with adoration. Yes, she has come so far. Smirking, I trace a finger between her legs. Watching her squirm as she presses herself tightly into my body to hide it from Pete. "I want you to lie down and trust me," I whisper into her delicate ear.
"Why?" she whispers back intimately. Wrapping arms around my neck to keep the conversation private.
I continue the caressing, knowing what it does to her, "Trust me baby."
She sighs, pulling back to pout. Little girl tactics don't work on me. I don't fuck little girls. Standing she takes a step over to the recliner, laying down obediently on the white padding. I move to sit next to her, removing the torch from my pocket.
"I want you to try and resist my words. Okay?" She nods, watching me with masked eyes. She's getting good at hiding her feelings and thoughts when I push her out of her comfort zones. Switching the pinpoint of light on, I shine it into her eyes from a foot above her. Swirling it in mesmerising circles, "Follow the light. Keep your eyes trained on it."
Her blue eyes swivel as she watches the circling light. I continue doing it until I see her eyes battling to focus.
"Keep looking at the light."
Struggling, she tries to follow it. I feel smug pride as her eyelids get heavy. The test of hypnosis, is to see if the victim is willing to do something they would not normally do. If they comply, they are already under the power of hypnosis, in which case you can drop the pretence and get on with business.
"Shall we cut your hair?"
"Okay."
Laughing, I smile at Pete. She's way under without even knowing it. She would never cut her hair. "Rub your nipples and lick your lips." Frowning, she obeys. "Now I want you to close your eyes. You will not remember anything that happens from now on. You will only open your eyes and wake up when I say the word, leaf."
She says nothing, she simply closes her eyes.
Grinning, I turn to my accomplice, "No medication needed. We're good to go."
Something in the way Pete's expression changes, gives me a small lurch of discomfort in my gut. Lifting her, I carry her back inside, to the room we've prepared for her. She is totally unconscious. It's going to take two of us just to keep her steady during the fragmenting of her mind. Dropping her ungracefully on the white covers, I untie the bows that give her minimal modesty.
"Hold her," I order as I drop my shorts. Pete keeps her on her knees, forcing her eyes open so that he can watch the reaction of the pain to her brain.
The gasp of shock that breaks our vigil gives me unparalleled pleasure. He nods, "Pupil's contracted perfectly."
Closing my eyes, I nail my cross. Eventually fatigue catches me and I require a rest. Holding her shoulders, her cheeks flushed pink, hair in disarray, gasping brokenly with sightless eyes, I observe my partner take my place. Whispering the new commands into her ear as she jolts predictably, I give her new suggestions. The power of suggestion is so underestimated. Place a person under your command, and simply reconfigure their mind. It is that easy. It's subliminal programming.
God gave me the power, and I sure as hell am not going to let a woman challenge the power that is mine. Eve is but a shadow of Adam. It was Adam that God breathed his Spirit into, not Eve. When he made Eve, she was simply the flesh from his body. She has no Spirit. She's not like God or Adam. She will never be equal. How deranged is our world to give the companion a vote. Income, money, power? Look what it's done to this world. Fornication is easy because the sluts have tablets to escape their God given responsibility. Now we have to con them into doing what God created them to do, give us sons. They had only one order from the Father, "Go forth and multiply," and the sinners they are defy the very first command.
All they're good for is fucking. They are living incubators for God's command, to multiply. Yet we have to literally bribe them to get them to give us what they should be begging us to do to them. They aren't grateful, and they should be. They should be grateful that we're willing to spill our seed inside them, to make them good in the eyes of Father. Giving them the chance to fulfil the destiny they were created for.
She tells me she loves me. But she cannot possibly know what love is. She is not made in God's image. She's a weak counterfeit of the male. I have resurrected her with my son growing inside her. Now she finally has a spirit inside her.
Eventually I look up at Pete and wave him off, "That's enough for tonight."
Lifting her, snatching up her discarded bikini, I carry her through to our room. Carefully I hold her, sliding myself inside her, then laying back with her reclining on top of me, her legs akimbo. She's not stupid, Satan at least has smarts. She'll know she's had sex.
Whispering softly into her ear, "Leaf."
Chapter 43
Photographers prefer disfigurement to adornment.
It is now chic to do your worst to people.
~ Margaret Caroline Anderson
Maybe it's because of the changes my body's going through that I'm so tired? Last night was just weird. I fell asleep apparently, then woke up. I have blank spaces. Victor did that torch thing to me to help me relax. And that sure worked well. I became alert on top of him. I have no awareness before then.
Smiling, I think back to his words as I finished what I apparently started, without any recollection of taking physical advantage of my sexy man. He'd said, "I like my woman to be like my cars. Fast and sexy. Shauna, you are both, you're perfect."
He loves me. I adore him. Turning onto my side I eye my companions lazily. They're playing a game of poker, they're even betting peppermints, which makes me want to laugh.
"How did you two meet?"
Peter flashes his model's smile at me, "In the dojo." Smiling widely at Victor, the dimples creating deep craters inside each cheek, he says, "This guy is a master. He's taught me everything I know."
"You thought you were such a hotshot. That day was a lesson in humility for you."
"And now look at us."
Victor throws his head back, laughing indulgently. Throwing down his cards he continues, "Shouldn't lunch be ready by now?"
Peter stands, taking his cue to go to the kitchen.
"I'm going to put music on," I tell my hunk as I slip lethargically onto my feet. Strolling after Peter insi
de.
Rifling through the CD's, I choose something I know we'll all like because I've heard them both select it previously. It's Surrounded By Idiots, who I'd never heard of, but quite like them now that I've listened to their album.. 'Violently Opposed' filters into the harmonious space and I meander to the kitchen to see if he needs help carrying stuff back out.
"Need any help?"
"Sure, can you get the foil out of that drawer down there."
Pointing to the set of drawers closest to me I check, "This one?"
He nods, walking quickly past me to the oven. Bending, I rifle through the drawer, claiming the foil. He bumps my head into the counter top as hands grip my hips and he squeezes past me, lingering a second too long as he pushes his groin hard into me as if … as if..
Feeling instantly faint and angry, I stand, jerking away as he keeps moving, "Tighter than a condom that was."
"What?" glaring at him now, ready to whack him with the cardboard tube in my hand.
"The space to move through with both of us in here. Sorry about that." He has the oven mitts now, and carries on as if nothing untoward just happened. Taking the dishes out of the oven, he smiles at me, shooting me a wink, saying in perfect timing with this fucking song, "It looks so good, but is so bad … "
I'm feeling weak. Is he coming on to me?
He writhes past me again, rubbing himself into me as he moves to where he left the trays. Pausing, looking down at me, "So where'd you get that tattoo from? Is it your mantra?"
"It's an unwanted present."
"From a lover?" he asks casually as he moves on to the trays.
"Something like that."