Chapter 7

Ruth had just finished preparing a large platter of sandwiches and agreed to spend time with the minister after she'd completed all her pending tasks. This involved feeding all the occupants of the clinic, including their patients, inventorying their supplies of drugs and finally preparing Amanda's next treatment.

"You might like to watch this one," Ruth advised. "It probably represents a taste of what her future might entail."

Intrigued, the Minister tucked into the food and agreed.

For the session, Ruth hooked Amanda fully up to the machine, restraining her just as she had been on the first day. She fought against the oral mount until the drugs worked their magic and calmed her down. Ruth pressed the play button and the video started.

Susan was dressed in the same lacy stockings and garter belt that she'd worn previously. Instead of reclining on a bed however, the screen showed her dangling from a ceiling hook by her bound wrists in such a manner that her feet barely touched the floor. Thick cuffs secured her ankles together and, via a short chain, to a D-ring set into the floor. A bright red ball gag filled her mouth while a thick collar fastened around her slender neck. The screen provided close-ups of her breasts, revealing shiny gold rings inserted through her pierced nipples. Attached weights pulled on the distended nubs, obviously causing the girl severe discomfort. Another ring penetrated her clitoral hood.

Thin chains connected to her collar passed through each of her nipple rings, threaded through the clitoral ring before finally terminating at a hook attached to the end of a stainless steel plug embedded in her anus.

"My God," Hunnicutt sighed, having never seen this particular video before.

From off-screen a new figure emerged. Rakishly thin, the man smiled predatorily at the restrained girl while running his fingers through his neatly trimmed beard. Dressed in a smartly tailored business suit, he removed his jacket and picked up a long handled whip from a nearby chair.

Susan's eyes went wide with fear at the sight of the vicious looking implement. The man circled his target several times before choosing his moment to strike, lashing the cord around her bare belly and leaving a prominent red mark in its wake. The girl's body writhed in agony with only the chains attached around her ankles to restrain her movements. The sadistic stranger struck her repeatedly, flogging her belly, bare back and buttocks, and then finally her breasts.

Mercifully, the girl passed out, sparing her from further torment. The man seemed satisfied by his efforts, running his hand over her marked flesh before insinuating his finger into her vagina and determining her state of arousal.

"The Baron," Morbius informed the Minister. "He paid a quarter of a million Euros for Susan and she's still with him to this day."

Hunnicutt gulped, deeply disturbed by what he'd seen. He relished the prospect of fucking young women but doubted he could bring himself to cause them pain, no matter how badly they'd treated him. "Exactly how many girls have we sold him?" he asked disconcertedly.

"Three. So far, we've received just short of one million Euros in total from him."

"Those poor girls."

"The mind is a strange thing, David. It's incredible what it can withstand. It can adjust to conditions that some people might consider barbaric. From what I understand, the girls are all in remarkably good health and even appear happy with their circumstances."

"That's somewhat hard for me to believe."

"He cherishes his girls, only punishing them when they misbehave or, occasionally, for the entertainment of his guests. Susan is over eighteen now and from the pictures I've seen, is one of the most beautiful creatures you've ever set eyes on. She's completely subservient to his wishes."

"You're not seriously thinking of selling Amanda to him are you? The Russian owns a dozen nightclubs in and around Moscow while the American is a best-selling author of suspense novels that's worth a small fortune."

"If the Baron offers the most money, I'll sell her to him. This is business as you're so fond of reminding me on a regular basis."

"I know. It's just..."

"Perhaps you'd like Ruth to settle your nerves."

"I'm not sure I'm in the mood after seeing that."

"Whatever. It's your choice."

"Show her Jamila's initiation," Morbius told Ruth. "That's one of my personal favourites."

As they walked out of the room, Hunnicutt caught sight of a beautiful Pakistani girl on the screen. Gagged and strapped to a table, the Baron took great pleasure in tormenting her. The Minister noticed Amanda watching avidly, wrapped tightly in her own restraint and squirming as she responded to the multitude of stimuli that the machine provided. He tried to force the mental image of the Baron whipping Amanda's bound body from his mind and concentrate on the prospect of his share of the bounty. Thirty percent of several hundred thousand Euros was certainly a great deal of money.

Morbius watched his benefactor leave with sheer relief. The man was by far the weakest link in the organisation and he wished for some way to be free from his interference.

He flicked through the daughter's file and tried to think how best to achieve the objective. Taking the girl would be the easy part but arranging for her return without leaving any obvious trace of their handiwork would be decidedly tricky, if not impossible. Hunnicutt did just not understand the limitations of the technology.

It wasn't mind control, nor was it hypnosis. It instead relied on retraining the prefrontal cortex, adjusting perception and reasoning in such a fashion to alter the patient's natural responses. The changes linked directly into the patient's libido, using their own sex drive to reinforce the conditioning, and obviating the need for follow-up treatment.

Turning on and off the behaviour at the flick of a switch was the substance of cheesy science fiction and not realistically achievable. He'd told Hunnicutt this on countless occasions but it had obviously not sunk in or he'd chosen to ignore it in the hope of achieving his pipe dream regarding his estranged daughter.

In the end, Morbius decided that he would take possession of the girl and hope the Minister would eventually realise the folly of his plans and allow a more conventional placement.

The early morning train to London rattled along the tracks as Jim Penrose stared out of the window into the gloom. The sun had not yet fully risen, but there was still sufficient light to make out frost on the hard ground. The train stopped at a small station where the prospective passengers huddled together in the rain shelter, their breath condensing into a fine mist. They climbed aboard, disappointed not to find any vacant seats on the overcrowded commuter service.

Jim had a nine o'clock appointment to see DI Hammond of the Metropolitan Police, hoping the officer could shed some light on Amanda's disappearance. Rather than chance the congested London traffic, he'd opted for the rail option and was certainly grateful that he'd done so. The second coffee was settling nicely in his stomach, helping supplement the rather filling but exorbitantly expensive egg, bacon and sausage breakfast that he'd consumed shortly after boarding the train.

With thirty minutes before they arrived at London's Marylebone station, he flicked through the sports section of the Daily Express, reading about all the upcoming transfers within the Premier League.

He'd left instructions for Angela to contact him with any new developments but so far, the switchboard had taken few calls of any significant relevance in response to their appeal. White ambulances were far more common than he'd imagined, with many ending up in private hands and converted for leisure use. He wondered if the whole thing was a red herring that would distract them from the real issue of finding Amanda. He made a mental note to contact Chalky the following morning to see if he'd discovered anything worthwhile.

The train finally arrived at his destination and he exited the station and hailed a black cab to take him to Scotland Yard rather than waste time negotiating the hustle and bustle of the London Underground during rush hour. After twenty minutes of sitting in stationary traffic, listening to the incessant babble of the cockney taxi driver, he began to regret the decision.

With barely minutes to spare, he stood on Broadway watching the iconic rotating sign that guarded the entrance to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters. With a certain respect, he presented his ID to the uniformed officer by the front doors and proceeded inside.

WPC Grant parked the patrol car outside the Pierce family home and paused for a few seconds before climbing out and ringing the doorbell. She knew that in the best interests of both herself and Joanna, she should restrict the frequency of her visits but something drew her like a moth to the flame.

Joanna smiled warmly when she opened the door, inviting her in and filling the kettle without even asking. They sat drinking tea and devouring toasted muffins, chatting like old friends.

"Jim's gone to London," Angela informed her. "He received a message from a contact in the Met. Apparently, something about Amanda's case bears striking similarity to a case they're currently working on.

"Then this isn't just some isolated incident?"

"Possibly not. We'll know more when they've spoken."

"I just want her back," Joanna sobbed. "All this not knowing is just getting too much."

"I know," Angela sympathised, moving to sit beside the woman on the sofa and slipping her arm around her middle for comfort. Joanna rested her head on her shoulder until she could bring her emotions under control.

"I'm so silly," Joanna sniffed.

"No. It's to be expected. She's your only child."

The woman ferreted in her pocket for a paper handkerchief, wiped her eyes and then delicately blew her nose. Angela held her for the entire time, her heart racing with excitement as she fought her inner turmoil.

"Thanks," Joanna whispered after several minutes, showing no inclination to break apart.

"It's okay," Angela reassured.

"I'm taking up too much of your time. You must have lots of things you need to be doing."

"What I'm doing now is just as important," Angela sighed, her throat tight.

She pressed her face into Joanna's hair, inhaling the fragrant scent of her shampoo. The woman seemed to sense their closeness and looked up whereupon Angela brushed her lips briefly against Joanna's. She closed her eyes and waited for the condemnation, but instead felt only the soft contact as Joanna returned the kiss.

Feeling slightly adventurous, Angela pressed her tongue against her lips and the woman obediently opened up to admit it. Their tongues met inside Joanna's mouth and fenced tentatively. Joanna's nervous hands slowly encompassed her as they abandoned themselves to their feelings, kissing more and more passionately as time progressed.

Taking stock of the situation, Angela separated and lay back on the sofa. Joanna paused for a second, her eyes emotional, and then rested her head upon her breast. Angela held her gently in position with one arm while stroking fingers tenderly through her hair. Neither spoke, simply content to share a moment of quiet intimacy.

Angela felt flushed with her arousal and it took all her determination not to touch the woman sexually. An eternity later, she wriggled free and prepared to leave. Both knew they'd crossed a boundary but were reluctant to make the first move.

Joanna walked with her to the front door then grabbed onto her arm as she stepped outside. They stared at each other for several heartbeats before the hand released her and she made her escape. Angela cursed her cowardice but knew she'd made the right decision. Before returning to the station, she made a pit stop at her apartment and dashed upstairs to change her underwear.

Pulling down her stockings and panties, she dropped onto the bed and rubbed herself towards climax. Her hand slipped into her blouse and squeezed her breast, the nipple hard like a pebble against her palm. She crested within minutes, groaning with the intensity of her orgasm.

Three miles away, locked in the sanctuary of her bedroom, Joanna reclined naked onto the bed. She separated her slick labia with one hand while teasing her tender clit with the other. Pressing two fingers inside herself, she rubbed along the front of her vaginal wall until she located the sensitive area that delivered so much pleasure.

Angela had kissed her, just as she'd prayed that she would. After many lonely nights, all she'd wanted was for her husband to make love to her, but it had taken the pretty policewoman to show her the affection she desperately craved. While disappointed when the woman had left, the lingering memory of her touch remained strong.

Joanna pinched each of her nipples in turn while persuading a third finger to join its companions inside her pussy as she plunged relentlessly towards fulfilment. Rolling onto her front, she plunged down on her fingers, humping them like a cock while her other hand caressed the soft curve of her bottom. Her index finger teased her anus before bringing it quickly to her mouth; inundating it with her saliva and then returning it to begin pressing through the tight ring of her sphincter. She gasped as her digit slid deep inside, relishing the heat of her interior. Exploring herself in both places simultaneously, she eventually welcomed the onset of her orgasm and basked in the sheer pleasure that coursed through her body.