Chapter 14

Alex soon realized that Mr. Smith had not been idle while she was working in the bar upstairs. It was, if she had been able to admit it, quite clever. Diabolically clever. It was, she decided, driving her insane. Sweetly and pleasurably insane.

She watched the big armature stop at the end of its long arc, then slowly gather speed. Gritting her teeth to keep from screaming again, Alex watched the pendulum sweep towards her crotch, then begin to rise just as it was about to touch her at the bottom of the arc and lift away, slowly decelerating.

Alex had woken from the beating she had forced Alvin to give her to the dripping of cold water on her heated and inflamed skin. Mr. Smith was standing above her holding an ice cube. The melting icy drips were creating small shock waves within her, striking with as much effect as the crop had earlier.

Immediately she had rolled over on her knees, head to the ground and groveled, begging, pleading for mercy. He had laughed at her pleading and nudged a bowl at her. It was slop, but she was starving. She placed her hands behind her back and bowed to the bowl. As daintily and lady-like as she could, she ate the contents. It was watery and weak. Near starvation was one of the keys to a successful brainwashing. He held life and death in his hands, not just pain and pleasure.

She tried to crawl, but collapsed. Weeping from her inadequacies, she used her arms to crawl into his bedroom. He had pushed her a little too hard the first day, anxious to break her and she wasn't done yet. He waited for her by the cage door, patient but heartless while she used the bathroom and crawled to his feet.

He helped her put on the latex panties and the latex bra. She watched as he had unplugged them from the charging unit next to his bed. She was to make sure they were charging when she wasn't wearing them, he told her.

Then he let her lie down and he shackled her to the sleeping mat. Looking up at him and then past him, she saw something out of an Edger Allen Poe story. Only no big blade. Just a pendulum.

At the moment, she was wishing it was a blade. Something to put her out of the torture. Mr. Smith had taped one of the sensors to the end of the armature. As it swung towards her, the shocks and vibrations in her cunt, ass and tits would strengthen. As it moved away, they would weaken and then stop. Then start again. And again. And again. With her last sane thought, she looked to the bottom of the shelf and promised them that she would help them.

She wasn't sure if she slept, but morning came. Finally. Mr. Smith released her and let her use the bathroom. Then he took her into the kitchen and, while he ate a breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast and coffee, she sipped the water that was in her bowl. She didn't complain.

Finishing his meal he tossed her a crumb of toast. She snatched in mid-air and kissed his hand. He seemed pleased with himself and she cried from happiness that he was pleased. Her emotions were totally skewed, as intended.

Again, they took the elevator to the third level and went to the room. Alex heard the voices coming from the dark space again. They were stronger this time. She shook her head. She was going crazy.

She danced for him. He made her dress first, then take the clothes off. She didn't mind. She saw his eyes looking at her. He wanted her. She wanted him to want her and moved as lewdly and wantonly as she could. She caught the teasing little smiles he gave her and she floated in ecstasy.

He bound her again with her black cord. She rubbed her breasts on his chest and he stopped to appreciate their firmness. She mewled and purred to him. Gently he lowered her into the chair. The probes that invaded her were larger today, thicker and longer and filled her uncomfortably.

Mr. Smith retrieved a small stainless steel bowl and a towel from the cabinet. He laid the towel over her leg. In a small jar, he whisked a frothy foam with a stiff brush. He took an ivory handled razor from his pocket. It was an expensive tool, extremely sharp, just like Daddy's straight razor.

Daddy had had a strop hanging out on the back porch. Alex would love to watch him caress the gleaming blade up and down the thick leather strap, the hiss of the blade the only sound in the cool morning air. With a foamy grin at his favorite daughter, he would start the process of scraping the follicles from his face.

Just like Mr. Smith was scraping her bare. She fought against her climax hard, trying to remain still as the razor caressed her mound, cleaning, baring her. She screamed, the tensions and feelings culminating in an orgasm approaching the best ever. Drained, she watched him finish, skillfully cleaning her, leaving only a narrow wedge of pubic hair, just a former hint of her womanhood. She hadn't been a hairy woman down there, but now she felt salacious, free and delightfully wicked.

When Mr. Smith lowered his head to her privates, she squealed her joy, over and over. Cunt-licking was every bit as wonderful as she had imagined. Again and again he brought her up to and over the edge of sanity, pushing her harder and harder into the fathomless abyss of mindless pleasure. He was deliberately cruel in his manipulation of her, teasing when she needed to be fulfilled and when she craved more stimulation and then tonguing her relentlessly as she fought for her breath. Finally, she relinquished her body to him and was swept away into oblivion.

Sensing her complete surrender to his tongue, Damon's eyes coldly assessed the convulsing figure. She was easier to control now, easier than he had expected, given her earlier surprising strength and resilience. No matter, she would still get the full training, if somewhat accelerated. He still had to try to make some profit from this investment, and, if all went according to plan, she would have a rather short profitable period. And he needed to slake his desires, too. His needs were building.

Just before he turned on the chair for the day's programming, he attached electrodes to her clitoris and her nipples. He pushed the button and dimmed the lights. She would be alone with her nightmares for the next four hours.

Alex fought to keep sane. She was tired and the experience of being shaved had thrilled her beyond anything she had imagined. And he had touched her. It was the first sexual touch her had given her. Her heart was singing while her body craved for more and more and was demanding, insistent. She fought the darkness for a few minutes. She had to remember.

Today there were photos. She didn't recognize all of them, but some of the models now had names. From the photos on the driver's licenses she had taken from the storage area. It was now locked, but she had been in time. She had studied the small plastic cards in secret, memorizing the names. She recognized all of them. Now, as they flashed on the screens, happy, gay and beautiful, she talked to them.

She heard their voices, dubbed over the photos that showed them being whipped or fucked with dildos by a big leather-clad woman, begging for more and more. She knew how they felt. They just wanted to please their master.

Alex wondered if he was their master yet, when the pictures were taken. They didn't use that word, or at least not all of them. Maybe some of them held out, maybe some-- Ahhh!

The electrodes on her clit and nipples, sensing her lack of a proper and full response to the other stimuli, got her attention back. The machine, designed to break any and all resistance, whipsawed the bound girl between agony and ecstasy for the rest of the morning. It was easier not to fight the machine and Alex surrendered to the demands made of her body and spasmed her way to oblivion.

Mr. D took her up to the bar when she was done and left Alvin in charge of his project, saying he would be back by 5:00. Alvin knew the routine. But he broke it. As soon as the door closed he curled Miss Alex around his feet in the small security room and told her to sleep. She was out before he stood up.

He had seen the devastating results of the same type of methods of brainwashing that had been used on veterans captured in 'Nam. He had been luckier. In Africa, they just killed you, eventually.

Miss Alex was experiencing sleep deprivation coupled with starvation, beatings, loss of identity and humiliation. He knew about that machine in the basement and had no doubt it was many more times more effective at 're-educating' when the victim was totally helpless to resist any suggestion or demand. He was worried about this innocent little farm girl at his feet.

Alvin had gone home last night and spread out the worn and expired driver's licenses on his kitchen table. He had known three of them in his time at the club. Another he had known in another life. A knife went through his heart. Again. He thought he was over her by now. It had been almost ten years. Ten years since...

Miss Alex had given these to him. Why? She had risked, had begged for a severe beating to pass them to him unobserved. Why? That was the question she had asked. Why? Why?

He was asleep when it hit him. Why, indeed? Why did Mr. D have them and not the girls? Why, unless they didn't need them anymore?

What the Hell had Miss Alex found?

Alex woke up screaming, in another part of the bar, a glass of juice next to her on the floor. Alvin was standing above her, bellowing at her to clean up that juice. The whip that had woken her slashed down once more, landing solidly on the floor by her hand. He missed her completely. Throwing him a quick smile, she gulped down the juice. She could taste the raw eggs mixed in it. Not her favorite, but it was nourishing and full of proteins and vitamins.

Alvin beat her soundly after she had finished the drink, making her body look as if she had been thrashed regularly all afternoon long. She even rolled over on her back to let him have easy access to the front of her naked body. She held her hands by her side, defenseless. Their eyes met and his hand with the whip faltered. She willed him to continue with her eyes. They both knew the risks he had taken by letting her sleep and feeding her. He didn't look away as he lashed her repeatedly.

She glanced down at his crotch as he stood. Interesting, she thought to herself. He enjoys it, but not this way. His consternation touched her and she realized she had made the right decision. The other pets would be safe with him.

That night after the watery gruel, the pendulum swung and Alex screamed until she was hoarse. She looked at the shelf of names and they laughed at her courage.

Damon opened the soundproofed door to his pet's room to a nicely deranged cunt. He didn't like to hear them screaming, so he took the risk of not bugging this tiny room. There was little he would learn in here anyway that he didn't already know.

Today she would start the next phase. He would begin to ask her to sign the papers giving him control over her. Up until now all of his pets but one had given him ownership by the end of the third day. The pet that had hesitated had come screaming to him on the fourth. He had made her pay dearly for that delay.

After a breakfast of water and another tossed scrap of toast, Damon led Alex back downstairs.

It was a repeat of the prior day. She dressed, she danced, she stripped. He bound her and tied her to her chair.

"Pet, you know I want to this to be special between us. I want to make this relationship permanent, to keep forever what we have."

"Sir, I'd like that, too, but I'm married. I can't give myself to you until I am free from my marriage vows, Sir."

"Don't be ridiculous, Pet. No one takes those vows seriously anymore. And I'm not asking you to marry me. Not yet, anyway," he added. Some cunts needed the carrot, some the stick. He tossed out a carrot.