Chapter 5

It was the fourth day in a row that Angela had visited. She revealed details of the press conference that would take place the following day, hoping to draw attention to Amanda's plight. A child volunteer who resembled her in stature had been engaged to follow her last known movements in the hope of jogging somebody's memory. It would be filmed and hopefully screened on 'CrimeWatch' the following Monday.

"What will I have to do? What should I wear?" Joanna stressed.

"Just something casual," Angela advised, "nothing too dressy. We'll work out a script for you to read, something to stir up people's emotions and draw a good response.

"Somebody saw something. Somebody knows something. We just need to persuade them to come forward and talk to us. The Daily Mail has agreed to offer a fifty thousand pound reward for any information leading to Amanda's location."

"Fifty thousand," Joanna gasped. "That's a lot of money."

"This is going to snowball from now on, Joanna. Amanda's a beautiful looking girl and the press will pick up on that. Handled correctly, the publicity may even reach the same scale as that of Madeleine McCann."

"You've been such a tower of strength, Angela. I don't know how I'd have managed without you ... without your help."

"You're doing just fine. We'll find her, Joanna. We'll bring her back to you."

Joanna reached over and hugged her tightly, leaving Angela a little breathless once more.

"Thank you," Joanna repeated time after time.

Angela tried to extricate herself but Joanna seemed reluctant to release her.

"I need to go," Angela gasped.

"Yes sorry. I got carried away."

Angela stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow before the press conference. We'll pick out your outfit and go over the script."

"Can't George read it?"

"He'll say a few words but the main appeal always sounds better coming from the mother. Believe me, it's a well proven fact."

"Okay. I'll do my best. Will you be there?"

"I'll be sitting right beside you. Don't worry," Angela promised.

Joanna reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. Angela smiled back but a part of her longed for more. She left before she did something she'd regret, jeopardising everything she'd worked towards.

Her relationship with Jim was going places and he'd even hinted about her moving in with him permanently. She was unsure, as the force tended to frown upon internal relationships. Thankfully, no one in the department was aware that they were seeing one another.

Several years ago while at college, she'd had a relationship with another girl. For six sweet months, she'd spent almost every moment with Karen. The sex had been incredible, blistering in its intensity. She'd never expected to feel the way she did, but she rationalised it by believing that the person she loved just happened to be female.

One weekend, she took Karen home to meet her parents and her whole world had turned upside down. The first night there, she confided to her mother about the depth of her feelings. He mother had stood still in shock before calling to her father and relaying her news. Her mother cried; her father shouted and, just to appease them, she and Karen agreed to sleep apart.

During the night however, Karen crept into her bed and they made love before falling asleep in each other's arms. After oversleeping, her mother discovered them together the following morning; the ensuing scene remained forever burned into her brain.

A month later, Karen left to live with someone else and she was alone once more. She'd never spent the night at her parents' house since and for the last couple of years, they'd only spoke to one another infrequently, mainly at Christmas and birthdays. Subconsciously, she blamed them for the collapse of her relationship, even though Karen had denied that the confrontation was the prime cause.

After graduation, she joined the police force, much to her father's disgust. She no longer cared what either of them thought and found fresh purpose in the prospect of public service. A fellow cadet, a self-professed lesbian called Stacey, seduced her after a night of heavy drinking and they became an item for a while. She took Stacey home and flaunted her before her parents, enjoying every second of their discomfort and leaving once she'd rubbed their noses in it sufficiently.

Stacey failed basic training. Any hope of continuing was kyboshed by the discovery of an ounce of Black Moroccan in her locker at the academy. She escaped prison by a whisker and disappeared without a word of goodbye.

After qualification, Angela spent two miserable years on the beat. Every Friday and Saturday night, she'd watch drunks puke up their guts on the street, smash in each other's heads, or sometimes both. At other times, she'd witness life of the downtrodden in London's sprawling council estates, feeling utterly powerless to help. Her function seemed only to record their hardship for posterity, and observe as they passed their inability to integrate into society onto their multitudinous offspring.

Just at the point that she was about to quit, an opportune ray of light shone down upon her and she was offered the chance to move to Amersham and work alongside CID as a community liaison. She worked with a seasoned detective whose energy and enthusiasm she came to admire.

Jim was a man's man that set his sights upon her early on, wearing down her resolve until bedding her became just a formality. He was sexually adventurous and she indulged many of his wildest fantasies, then made them her own. They watched pornography together, engaged in mild bondage play, and he fucked her everywhere that his cock would fit.

Still something lacked, and that something was the feminine touch. She longed for the caress of an agile tongue between her thighs, soft breasts pressed against her own, and the sumptuous flavour that flowed from an aroused female. Jim licked her pussy but lacked the subtlety and finesse that only another girl seemed able to provide.

Angela sat in the patrol car outside the police station pondering all this while she tried not to fantasize about Joanna stretched out naked upon the bed, sighing in delight as she wallowed in pleasure from the orgasm that she'd bestowed upon her. Her pussy tingled in anticipation of the woman's tongue as it lapped up her abundant juices.

"Stop it," she told herself. "Stop doing this to yourself. Nothing's going to happen there. Joanna needs my help and support, certainly not the complication of an affair."

She exited the car and returned to the office where Jim was staring pensively into space.

"Any developments?" she asked.

"I just took a call from a Detective Inspector Hammond of New Scotland Yard."

"The Met?"

"Yes. He's head of a Metropolitan task force that's dealing with organised crime, particularly that surrounding sex trafficking of children. He wants to meet up with me next week."

"Any particular reason?"

"He saw my enquiry surrounding Amanda's disappearance and thinks there's enough of a similarity to one of his own cases for it to be worthwhile having a chat."

"Sex trafficking? That sounds pretty extreme."

"He didn't go into any specifics but from his tone of voice I'd say so. How was Joanna?"

"I was prepping her for tomorrow's press conference."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"She'll be fine. Is the script ready?"

"I've got a first draft on the computer. I'll email it to you. See what you think."

Angela sat down at her terminal and logged on. After changing a few select phrases, she sent it across to the printer.

"I guess my psychology degree came in handy after all."

"Smarty-pants," Jim mumbled.

With a passive acceptance, Amanda held out her hand and watched as Ruth buckled the strap around her wrist and attached the short chain to the embedded D-ring that would hold it secure. They'd allowed her to exercise for the first time since arriving. She'd walked barefoot around the ward and even briefly into the surrounding gardens.

Each night, she was secured to the bed and headphones placed upon her head. Tiny voices whispered in her ear, too quiet for her to make out the words. Overlaid with that was a low subsonic hum that matched her alpha rhythm perfectly. Slowly, she started to come to terms with her captivity.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked casually, lacking sufficient energy to provide anything more than a token protest.

"Soon you'll understand," Ruth explained. "Until then, you must do exactly as you're told and complete the treatment."

"How much longer?"

"Until the doctor thinks you're ready. Three, maybe four more days."

Amanda had lost all track of time. All she remembered were the climaxes continually wrung from her body, and Susan, the girl she identified with better than any other. She'd watched as the youngster explored her own sexuality then shared it with the man that purported to be her father.

After he'd molested her, Amanda had watched in shock as she pleasured him time after time with her mouth, digesting his come like some foreign delicacy. Amanda drank her own share, swallowing it indulgently until she was replete. No longer disgusted, she complied as though happy to share something in common with her virtual companion.

Ruth injected her in the arm and she felt the first rush. The woman never spoke harshly to her and would often caress her lovingly, leaving her wanting more and more to obey her every word. The solid presence in her vagina rewarded her with the utmost pleasure and she now welcomed it into her body. The sharp pain as the nurse clamped her tender nub lessened as time went by; it was now little more than an irritant. Even her nipples sensed the imminence of their confinement and rose rapidly in anticipation.

Susan smiled as she welcomed her 'daddy'. She reclined on the bed and opened her arms in welcome as his sheer bulk dwarfed her diminutive frame. Reaching between them, she guided him into her. Amanda realised that they were having intercourse.

Her own vagina pulsed in sympathy, stimulated either by the machine or by her drug-infused brain. She watched every thrust of the man's loins, experiencing a twinge of jealousy that she was not receiving the same attention. The girl's face displayed the total exhilaration that his actions instilled as they consummated their union. Amanda wondered what it must feel like to have a man's penis nestled deep within the sanctuary of her vagina.

She gasped in rapture, her mouth thankfully no longer confined by the hideous contraption that had plagued it up until this point. Her body bucked in unison with Susan, driving herself upwards towards an imaginary phallus.

Ruth observed her movements with delight. The treatment was beginning to produce the desired effect and the next stage of her training would soon commence.

With Olivia gone, Morbius could now concentrate on the only other remaining patients in the clinic beside Amanda: two twins called Helen and Samantha. Having just undergone their treatments, both were under the impression that their parents had recently been killed in a road accident, leaving them without any living relative to look after them. The procedure had supposedly dealt with the severe grief they'd experienced and helped them come to terms with their dreadful loss.

The seventeen-year-olds were sitting up on Samantha's bed when he entered the room they shared. They were still dressed in their nightclothes despite the fact that it was nearly noon.

"Good morning, girls," he greeted cordially. "How are you both this morning?"

They nodded in response, expressions sullen.

"We're due to start our counselling session shortly," Morbius told them curtly, "and neither of you are even dressed."

"I'm sorry, doctor," Samantha replied. "We overslept again. I've been so tired since the treatment finished."

"Me too," Helen added, the younger of the two girls by a matter of minutes.