Destiny Taken (Destiny Lost Book 1)

by Giulia Napoli

  Scared to death, I did as I was ordered. As I stood there, I felt a strange numbness settle into my pussy and onto the tips of my breasts. Obviously, the nurse had used the controller to block my sensation there, or, at least, block whatever those erogenous areas were sending to my brain, or what my brain could detect was being sent.

  The guard moved towards me, holding a sharply-pointed, six-inch-long needle.

  I cringed back automatically.

  “DO NOT MOVE!” The nurse shouted.

  The needle was approaching my right nipple. I looked down as the guard pushed the sharp point into the very end of my nipple. I started to scream, then realized that I couldn’t feel anything – no needle poke nor subsequent pain. The same was the case with my left nipple.

  Small drops of blood formed on the end of each nip from being pricked with the needle, but I couldn’t feel anything. Then the guard bent to my pussy, spread my lips, and I saw the needle enter the top of the ultra-sensitive nub of my clitoris. Again, I felt nothing. A bead of blood formed atop my clit.

  The guard pulled out my inner labia and thrust the needle through both of them. I had no sensation of either pain or anything else. I couldn’t even see any blood when he pulled the needle out.

  I saw him pick up the cattle prod. I screamed, “No!” as he approached me with it. No sooner had I spoken than I crumpled to the floor, once again unable to move.

  My eyes had been frozen looking down so I could see the nurse spreading my legs apart as I lay helpless on my back. I saw the guard bend over me and push the cattle prod into my vagina. I thought I could feel a pressure, but I couldn’t move.

  Suddenly, my body tensed from the force of an electric shock racing along my nerves. He had triggered the cattle prod inside me! I couldn’t voluntarily or involuntarily move or scream, though my body quivered violently from the jolt. I wasn’t in pain, but my consciousness started to fade. Then the shaking stopped and I hung in the balance, on the edge between consciousness and oblivion.

  I could move again and I trembled with the effects of the shock. I lay there for quite a while, before the nurse told me to stand again.

  “As required, you have no sensation in your genital area or in your nipples. That is the way you will remain while here.”

  She’d turned off my sex, and any chance I had at pleasure, or pleasuring myself. I was devastated, and wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, and then crumple to the ground and cry. Somehow, I managed to avoid doing either. The cattle prod was too frightening; the beatings were too brutal.

  “The physical control is in place as expected. Now we’ll test the mind control.” She spoke as much to the guard as to me.

  “I am going to more completely modify your identity and give you the submission compulsions to obey authority and resist both harming yourself and escaping.”

  She manipulated the keys on the controller and I immediately felt dizzy. Something was changing in my head; I could feel it! I put my hand against the padded wall to steady myself.

  “Tell me your full name.”

  “Karimah,” I responded, breathless and without thinking. That was my name, wasn’t it? For some reason, it didn’t seem like my full name. I thought my full name was longer.

  “Is that your full name?”

  “Ah … ah … yes … ah … yes, I think so.”

  “Who is Destiny Michelle Hutton?”

  “Huh?” I said. I’d never heard that name before.

  “If you don’t tell me who Destiny Michelle Hutton is, you will be punished!”

  “But I don’t know her!” I shouted. I tried to defend myself by saying, "'Destiny' means 'fate' in English. What kind of a name would that be?"

  “I am sure you know this person! Who is Destiny Michelle Hutton? This is your last chance to tell me!”

  I saw the guard raise the cattle prod and step toward me. “I don’t know her!” I started to sob. They didn’t believe me and they were going to hurt me because they didn’t believe me. “I’ve never heard of this Destiny person!”

  “Tell me your full name again.”

  “My name is Karimah. That’s the only name I have!” I was still sobbing and shaking with fear. At that point I was certain Karimah was my full name. Why would I have any additional names? Why would I know that was my name, and they wouldn’t believe me? Karimah was a perfectly normal American name, wasn’t it?

  “Please don’t hurt me! I’m telling you everything I know, everything you’ve asked. That’s the truth! My name is Karimah! I don’t know anything about this other person!”

  I didn’t know Destiny Michelle Hutton. I did know Tia Malinda Morales, but I would never tell them that. I was terribly afraid they would beat me again. But I didn’t know anyone named Destiny!

  “Very well, Karimah. We’ll put that aside for now. I won’t punish you for not knowing her. Forget that I ever asked you about that other person. You can calm down now.

  “Go over and kneel before the guard, unzip his pants, remove his penis, and begin sucking on it,” the nurse commanded.

  She wanted me to give head to a stranger! I didn’t do that sort of thing. I refused to move, shaking my head. Oddly, she didn’t threaten again. She just stood there looking at me.

  I began to feel an internal itch, a need to move, an intense feeling that I should immediately do what she demanded. I was at war with myself! I tried to stand still, my hand pressing into the padding. I couldn’t just stay there! I had to … I needed to … she had commanded me. The compulsion to obey became greater and greater and the anxiety increased incessantly as I tried to resist!

  I couldn’t stand the internal pressure within my mind. I had to obey! I had to!

  Quivering with frustration and my own resistance on one hand, and the controller-generated compulsion on the other, I stumbled over to the guard, who stood there impassively. I knelt in front of him and unzipped his pants with trembling fingers. He was already hard and his member pushed against the opening through his white underwear. I reached in, fumbled but managed to free the hard shaft, and immediately placed it into my mouth and began to suck, my head moving back and forth as his penis slid within my mouth.

  “Take him into your mouth all the way,” the nurse ordered. I didn’t hesitate. Somehow, my gag reflex didn’t kick in, and I continued to minister to the swollen shaft.

  “When he comes, swallow everything,” the nurse demanded, just as the guard reached climax and his hot cum shot both into my mouth and directly down my throat. I swallowed without thinking about it further. When he stopped, I gradually pulled back, licking his shaft as I did so, and swallowing the rest of his load.

  He put his relaxing penis away and zipped himself up. I sat back on my legs and looked down in disgust. I had an overwhelming need to vomit and I began to gag.

  “Stop gagging!” The nurse shouted. I struggled but managed to get my reflexes under control. I was horrified at what they’d been able to make me do, now that I was totally in their control.

  “As you’ve just experienced, you are required to obey a direct order,” the nurse stated needlessly. “Attempting to resist is useless. You will always succumb in the end. You can avoid the internal torment by doing what you’re told as soon as you’re given the command.

  “Now you will be group-matched.”

  “Please don’t do anything else to me,” I begged weakly, still sitting on the floor pad. I was overwhelmed, beaten. The nurse ignored me and fiddled with the controller again. I became even dizzier this time and had to lie on the floor for a few minutes to keep the room from spinning around me. I could swear I heard whispers in my head but I couldn’t make out what the voices were saying.

  “You can bring the tray in now,” she told the guard. I was still lying there when he returned, carrying a tray with what looked like food serving covers on it. He set a bucket next to me. The nurse told me to sit up and brought one of the tray’s contents over to me. She lifted the cover, revealing a plate containing a pack
of Turkish cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray.

  Oh God how I needed a smoke! “May I, Nurse?” I asked meekly. Maybe she’d be considerate for once and at least let me have the comfort a cigarette would provide.

  She surprised me by nodding her head and I reached for the unopened pack with trembling fingers. As I lifted the pack, I realized how wrong this was! I had never smoked a cigarette in my life! In fact, I hated to even be around smoke! I wasn’t militant about it, but would leave a room if someone were smoking there. How could I need one now?

  Actually, I didn’t care how; I simply had to have one like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Shaking, I opened the pack, knocked it against my palm to free up a cigarette, pulled one out, and … and then I didn’t know what to do! I’d never smoked and I didn’t know how to do it.

  “I really want to smoke this, Nurse, but I don’t know what to do!” I said to her in an anguished voice.

  “Stupid American girl,” she responded, but proceeded to instruct me on how to smoke.

  Following her guidance, I lit it immediately and blew out the smoke without inhaling. A moment later, I took a tremendous puff and was astonished to realize I could inhale it as though it were the most normal thing ever. There was no choking or coughing, only a sweeping pleasure that suffused throughout me. Barely noticeable beneath the extensive pleasure was a tingling like I would often experience as the beginning of sexual arousal.

  It made me want to take another big puff, which I did, squeezing out slightly more arousal-like tingling – or itching or scratching, I couldn’t exactly tell. Suddenly though, the dizziness hit me as my virgin body reacted to its first encounter with nicotine.

  I puffed twice more and broke out in a cold sweat and felt like I was going to hurl. Cigarette in hand, I turned toward the bucket next to me, certain I was going to be sick.

  “Sit quietly for a minute until the nausea passes, then resume smoking,” the nurse instructed. Of course, that’s what I did. I slowly managed to smoke the whole cigarette that way. I was temptingly turned on, very slightly sexually aroused, but far from meaningful, actionable arousal. It was something I wanted, but the cigarette would only allow me to sniff at the wine of arousal, not drink any of it, not reward me with more than a tantalizing sample. At that time, I couldn’t tell if that would help me, or make me more frustrated.

  Then there was the effect of nicotine poisoning, and the resulting nausea. Mercifully, the nurse assured me that after a few cigarettes, that extreme reaction would go away.

  I didn’t want to smoke! But I didn’t have any choice. The controller had hooked me before I ever lit that first cigarette! In a week or two, I’d be addicted to the nicotine itself, like any other smoker. They were going to compound a physical need on top of the emotional need they’d created within my mind! The cigarettes would always tempt me with enough sexual feeling to whet my appetite, but then not let me satisfy the need they built within me.

  I was told to stand up again, which I did. The nurse pulled an object on the tray from a tube and I realized that it was a short cane.

  “Come over here and kiss it,” she ordered me.

  I did and then looked up into her eyes. At that moment I suddenly had an overwhelming need to be beaten. “Please, Nurse,” I said, “please beat me with that cane. I haven’t been beaten yet today. You know that I need you to do that.”

  She told me to bend over and hold my ankles. Then she began to beat me on the buttocks and back with the cane. “Count!” She ordered me. I counted after each stroke, relishing the stinging pain every time. I had to have this, and I deserved it. Once again, I felt something like a slight sexual thrill every time the cane crashed onto my flesh. After “ten,” she told me to stand with my hands clasped behind me. Then she beat my firm, perky breasts and stomach. It was glorious! At “twenty,” she stopped and put the cane down. My upper body on both sides burned with the residuals of the beating. It was painful and delicious at the same time.

  I was to find out later that my body image was all messed up too. To my altered mind, I looked gaunt, almost concentration-camp thin. I’d always thought my figure and my weight were pretty much ideal for my height. They were on the thin side of fashionably trim. Using the controller, she’d changed all that and I had an overwhelming need to put on some pounds, until they told me and I finally accepted, that I was a healthy, desirable weight for my resident group.

  They were fucking up my mind and I was helpless to stop them.

  “You will now receive the compulsions to daily clean yourself of body hair and trim your nails. You will also receive the irreversible compulsions to avoid foods which are ḥarām, and perform the salat. The last two will be permanent and remain with you after you serve your sentence.”

  “No! Please don’t do that to me!”

  The nurse looked to the guard and gave an almost imperceptible nod. SMACK! The guard hit me with enough force that I fell to the floor again.

  “Be quiet unless I ask you something, Karimah!” The nurse insisted. “Stay seated on the floor mat.” She did something else with the remote control she held. Then she looked directly at me and said, “I‘ve set the dietary and the salat compulsions. Now I will execute the command to make them permanent. You will likely feel a significant jolt to your head and may lose consciousness for a while.”

  I saw her push a button on the device and instantly felt a blow to my head, as though I’d been kicked with a steel-toed boot. My vision shrunk to a point and I passed out.

  When I regained consciousness, I was lying face-down, sprawled on the floor mat. The pain in my head was excruciating and my eyes saw double. The guard rolled me over and the nurse knelt next to me, shining a light into one eye, then the other.

  “Sit up,” she commanded. I immediately moved but fell back against the pad, still seeing double and with a mind that was totally confused. What had happened to me? I needed a cigarette – something to focus on and put me back in balance.

  “Please, may I have a cigarette?” I asked, mostly unthinking.

  The nurse smiled, helped me sit up, handed me one, and lit it for me. She sat the cold ashtray in my naked lap and let me smoke. I sucked greedily at the cigarette and started to feel better, then dizzy again, and then better again. A faint shiver of arousal tickled within my head but then vanished like my last exhaled puff of smoke. Once I’d finished the cigarette, I was told to kneel.

  The nurse brought a covered dish over to me. I instantly smelled the nauseating aroma of bacon.

  Wait! I shouted to myself. I love bacon! I immediately realized what they had done to my mind. “Use the bucket if you need to,” she said, removing the cover. I saw the crispy strips of bacon and immediately threw up half-digested gruel into the bucket.

  That formerly delicious bacon was one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen. I was sure I’d react the same way to any pork products or anything else forbidden by Islam.

  After I’d finished throwing up she handed me a glass. I went to take a sip and smelled lime and alcohol in the glass. Alcohol is forbidden in Islam and the smell of it triggered severe nausea and again I vomited violently into the foul bucket.

  My days of drinking Margaritas, which were always one of my favorites, or any other alcoholic beverages, were over for good. That was to be the end of my love affair with wine too. The aversion had been burnt into my brain. I assumed the compulsion to say the salat was also burned into me.

  They let me recover for several minutes. The double vision finally went away but my head was still in agony. Then the nurse handed me another plate containing tweezers, a triple-blade razor, soap, and depilation strips.

  Seeing those objects, I began to feel anxious again, nearly the same as I had after I’d kissed the cane with which she’d beaten me. I ran my hand over my head, feeling the short bristles that had been left after the matron buzzed me the day before. It felt awful! I couldn’t stand to be like that. I felt dirtier than I’d ever felt before and d
isgusted with the whiskers on my head. I ran my fingers over my eyebrows and thought I felt a tiny hair in a couple of places.

  “Please, Nurse,” I begged, “may I be permitted to clean myself up?”

  “Of course, Karimah. Use the bathroom, then immediately return here when you’ve finished.”

  The guard opened the door and I rushed into the bathroom. I quickly soaped my head and began to shave it. The feel of the razor sliding across my scalp was wonderful! I shivered with another tantalizing, but unfulfilled sexual reaction as I felt my head finally become smooth. I didn’t know it then, but that was going to happen every time I repeated this ritual, every morning.

  From somewhere within me, I knew that I didn’t want this. I wanted my hair. Going through my life for years without it was almost unbearably sad. But then I felt my head, where I’d rendered it smooth, and I knew that regardless of how much my hair meant to me – and maybe always would – the idea of having it was completely unacceptable. I felt like a recovering drug addict and my hair had been my drug. I had to stay away from it, no matter what. That realization put me at ease again and I felt the pleasure of shaving come back. That was so much better than having hair, wasn’t it?

  I went carefully over my entire head, double-shaving where it wasn’t completely smooth and velvety. I felt so fresh, so clean! It was totally luscious!

  I finally finished, rinsed off and dried my baby-smooth head. Then I applied one of the strips to the area where my right brow had been, pressed it on as they had done yesterday, and ripped it off, taking one or two remaining hairs they must have missed. Then I repeated it on my left brow. I found a couple ugly, stray brows that the strips missed and plucked them out with the tweezers.

  A feeling of fervent satisfaction and relief flowed over me like a warm, soothing blanket. I would never have hair again while I was here, I realized, but why would I ever want to? It felt so dirty, and removing it felt so good!