Sexual Material, meant for people over 18. Why are you loitering?
Damn kids. When I was your age I knew where I wasn't wanted. And I
thought I said to stay the hell off of my lawn?
The In Your Ass Secret Society part 4 Vengeance and Some Emotional Crap
by Alexi92
Have you ever watched a be burned alive? I haven't, except for this
one time on a "World's Stupidest People" show. But you can't tell anything
from television. I bring it up because when word got out that my case was
up for consideration I suddenly had a lot of friends who wanted to come out
and help with the raid.
One of them, Louis, a guy I kinda knew in the pyro division, told me
that if I was feeling really angry about what was done to me that there was
no surefire cure for vengeance like smelling the burning flesh of my
tormentors.
Say what you will, the idea kind of sickened me. I know I was pissed
off at these bikers for abducting, raping, and then subjugating my until she was their happy fuck toy, but I really didn't think they deserved
to burn to death for it.
See, the way raids work is that three quarters of the party are assigned
to the raid. This will usually consist of a squad other than the squad the
victim is assigned to. The other fourth of the raiding party consists of
the victim and candidates chosen by the victim and approved by the manager
in charge of the case.
Recon had found out that the biker gang which had kidnapped and
initiated my as one of their slaves had a total membership of fifty.
The raiding party was to consist of thirty initial and forty back up. This
meant I got to choose 16 members of the squad, myself and five others to be
a part of the initial group which would raid my house the next time the
bikers decided to pay Linda a visit. The other ten would be a part of the
back up party, ready to come in if the rest of the gang showed up or if the
first party was unable to handle the bikers that were already there.
My task was to find and subdue my wife. Since she was enjoying her life
as the Dead Knife's whore she was classified as hostile. This didn't mean
I wouldn't get to administer on a personal level though. According
to intelligence I would probably find my fucking two or more bikers. I
would have to subdue these any way I found appropriate, and then try to
talk sense into my wife. If that should fail I was to render Linda
unconscious.
The hard part was deciding what weapons to bring along. I might find
myself facing a room of twenty suddenly angered at having their
activities interrupted. Lord knows they would all be pissed off to have me
burst in to stop them from sticking their greasy cocks into my wife's cunt,
which by now was probably looser than the lips on a professional stool
pigeon, and all the while she would be screaming in ecstasy.
I put Louis on the maybe list.
It had been four months since I moved into the IYA compound. Since then
I had learned many useful skills, motivated by the fire which burned in my
heart at all that the Broken Knives had taken from me. The woman I loved
turned into a biker slut, my house their personal playground where they
would make my beg for their cock, everything I had ever worked for
tainted by their influence. I couldn't even think of Linda without
flashing back to the image seared in my mind, Linda, leaking out of
every one of her orifices, licking their off her fingers telling me how
lucky she was to be one of THEIR whores.
It's surprising how many weapons you can master in four months. My
specialty lay in the throwing knives. Maybe it had something to do with
the fact that the bikers who had taken my were called the Dead Knives,
and I wanted to enjoy the irony of killing one of them with a knife. Maybe
it was the way that they slurped into human flesh when thrown just right.
Those throwing knives got me invited on a lot of raids. It was almost
like a party trick, if you can do it well enough and gain a reputation
everyone wants to see it for themselves. I do this really cool trick where
one knife slices through the target's crotch just seconds before the other
imbeds itself between his eyes. I've gotten a lot of requests for that
one, particularly on the second-in-command of whoever fucked the victim's
wife.
The main perpetrator is almost always taken out by the victim, if
possible. Often we try to take the perpetrator alive so the victim can
think out what kind of punishment he would like to dish out. Sometimes
though, the victim doesn't want the honor, his wife's safety more important
to him than revenge. In that case it's whoever finds the perp first.
Since I was the victim this go around I was given the choice. I wanted
revenge. We were dealing with a gang, so finding the gang leader would be
difficult, but I was assured that if he could be identified, and was still
alive after the raid, I would be allowed to pick the punishment.
Meanwhile I would have to satisfy myself with whoever was fucking my
wife when I found her.
***
We got to my house a little before eleven in the afternoon. Seventy
people does not exactly blend in a suburban neighborhood, so we picked a
time when we hoped most of my neighbors would either be at work or school.
I don't recall any of my neighbors being housewives, but I didn't really
know everyone, and some of them might have changed their schedules in the
four months since I had left.
There were a lot of motorcycles in the yard and driveway to my house. I
didn't get a chance to count them when the radio in the bus blazed, "This
is the scout, I count seventy people in the house, fifty-two males, sixteen
females, two uncertain. Target one is in upstairs main bedroom, target two
is in kitchen, at least five secondary targets. Ten to twenty in kitchen,
twelve in main bedroom, ten to twenty in front living room, twenty in
upstairs bedrooms, eight wandering."
Another voice responded, "Affirmative scout. All units will enter the
house. Keep casualties low if possible, take all women alive unless
impossible. T-minus three minutes."
"You heard the man," the sergeant shouted. "Everyone get ready.
Demolition, I want that door down in five seconds. Neutralizing weapons
first! Switch to live ammo only if they start firing back!"
We filed out of the bus, I was seated in the back so I got out last. By
the time I did the house was almost completely surrounded by in
uniform. I went to the backyard where I shimmied up a rope someone else had
already secured and joined three other people on the balcony adjoining my
bedroom's glass door. The curtains had been pulled closed so we couldn't
see inside, which suited our purposes just fine because it meant no one
inside could see us either. Luck (and the regular position of the sun in
the afternoon) had the sun shining in through the other side of the house.
There was another twelve people positioned to enter the house on the
upstairs, supporting themselves with awnings, gutters, window sills, or
ropes.
In the front of the house the Captain in charge counted down from five
silently with his hand in the air. We in the back of the house were
waiting for the sound of a door crashing in which would sound once he was
out of fingers.
The raid began.
Seventy don't easily enter a house all at once. Since it was my
house, I had given permission for a reasonable amount of damage to occur to
the structure of my home, both to start and to take place during the raid.
Reasonable meant they didn't blow up the side of my house to make a big enough for ten people to swarm through.
Here's how the most of it probably took place. First the door would be
rammed down, and five would enter through there. As the bikers focused
on that another eight would dive through the large window in the
living room, all the while being covered until they could draw their own
weapons. Another five would break through the glass door in the back, near
the kitchen, while four would be entering through the kitchen window.
After that the rest would stream in. Half would secure the downstairs, a
third would go upstairs and support those of us up there, and the rest
would go where they deemed they were needed.
Upstairs the eight would convene on the other room bikers were
concentrated, while the four of us on the balcony would take care of anyone
in the same room as my wife.
The door crashed. Already in position, two members of Blue Squad, team
#1455 according to the encoded signs on their arm badges, crashed through
the glass door. Louis and I covered them, firing a spray of tranq darts
into the room. We did pretty well, three bikers went down. Barely taking
time to shake the glass from their bodies the two Blue drew their
weapons and took down another two targets.
We must have caught them by surprise, because the bikers in the room
were going down pretty easily. It was one of the upshots of taking a group
by surprise in an enclosed space when all your are on one side, all
theirs are on another, and you don't care what part of the body you hit.
Louis took down another two before they could react, I got another one, and
the Blue took down another two. One near the door bolted and one of
the blue gave chase, his partner quickly following to cover him.
Which left Louis and me in the room alone.
There were only four left in the room. One was pretty fast, I only
noticed that he had a goatee and no on under his vest, before I had
to dodge him and his switchblade. My body twisted so that my hands came
together and came hammering down on the back of his neck, causing him to go
crashing down on the ground.
Louis picked off a guy getting a in the corner. As he pitched
forward we could hear a squeal from the who was administering the head
as his body fell onto her, trapping her beneath him even as she still
sucked his dick.
I haven't mentioned it yet, but one of the reasons it was so easy to
take out the people in the room is that most of them were concentrated in a
circle around the main attraction. My had been the center of a biker
gang bang, but most of the other participants had fallen to our tranq
darts.
Despite the lack of to fuck her, my was still being taken from
behind by a long haired biker and she was the dick of some biker
who had three darts in him. Her hands were wrapped around the still hard
cocks of two unconscious bikers, victims of the tranq darts. Neither my
wife nor the guy taking her from behind seemed to realize that all their
comrades had fallen.
Me and Louis looked at each other with disbelief as they continued to go
at it, the guy taking my from behind still pumping away furiously and
my away at the unconscious cock, her hands trying to
travel the lengths of two cocks going flaccid.
Once the cocks in her hands had shrunk to the point that she couldn't
wrap her hands around them, my wife, let them go and use her hands to
support herself. The sudden shift in balance caused the guy in her mouth
to fall backwards. Since he was out of it he made no attempt to stay up,
and he came crashing to the ground, his cock popping out of my wife's
mouth. Once he had fallen we were able to see her face for the first time.
Here eyes were closed, her mind focused on her blowjob. She still
attempted to pleasure the void left by the cock orally.
I swear I'm not making this up, it wasn't until she realized her tongue
was trying to wrap itself around nothing that she figured something was up.
Her eyes opened in shock, and she stared at the she had been off, he now flat on his back, his hard cock pointing into the air. Her
eyes moved up and she saw us.
Louis waved.
"Hi honey," I said mockingly.
Linda's eyes grew wide. That was almost worth the entire raid right
there. The guy taking her from behind was still absorbed in the he
was pounding.
"H-h-hh-h," my wheezed. Louis and I waited to see what she was
trying to say.
"Help!!!!"
The guy taking my from behind opened his eyes. "What the hell?" he
said.
Louis pulled the pistol to his portable flame thrower and shrugged.
"Go ahead," I told him.
Louis let the fire stream forward. It hit the guy right in the face.
The burst of flame was a short one, but even so, that's gotta be painful.
The guy was supporting this theory as he screamed louder than I've ever
heard someone scream before, and remember I've shoved knives into the
thighs of uncooperative white slavers, many of whom have been women.
I don't remember if I read this somewhere or if I'm making it up, but I
think you're not supposed to touch any area of your skin which has been
burned. This guy tried to put out his face with his hands, still
screaming. Finally I got so tired of the sound that I shot him with a few
tranq darts just to shut him up.
Which just left Louis, Linda, and me.
"I'm going to start piling these guys," Louis said, sensing the tension.
I nodded and let him start moving the bodies for easier restraining once
they woke up. I hears him fire a tranq dart into the in the corner
after she started screaming, I guess after Louis pulled the guy off her.
Louis later told me that she was the guy's dick like a pacifier,
even though it had gone soft. Louis thinks the had regressed back to
infancy.
All of that was far from my mind as I looked upon my wife, closely, for
the first time in four months. The time had not been good to her. She was
still relatively clean, aside from some cum, dried and fresh, which coated
her body. welts coated her body, suggesting that she had been whipped
recently, the main concentrations were on her back and ass, although her
tits had couple. Since she was on all fours I couldn't see her stomach,
although I expected there were some there was well.
Linda had a few more piercings than I remember, a couple rings adorned
her left eyebrow, a few more littered her ears. From the way she was
positioned I couldn't see her cunt, but I assumed there were some more in
there was well. Tattoos were more plentiful as well. The damned gang
insignia on her arm, the one that branded her a whore of the Dead Knives,
was still there. It had been joined by a fairly elaborate design of a
snake slithering through the eyes of a skull on her back which hadn't been
finished. One of the bikers had probably been using her as a canvas and
lost interest. I could also catch part of one on her ass cheek.
Maybe they gave her drugs or something, but she looked to have dropped
twenty pounds. It didn't look unhealthy, but it made her look even more
unlike the woman I remembered. Her sunken bloodshot eyes didn't help,
neither did the fact that her hair had been cut badly. Back before we had
been well off, and Linda had been able to go to a professional stylist, she
had tried cutting her own hair, without a mirror. This looked worse.
"M-mark?" Linda asked uncertain.
"No," I said, rather firmly I thought.
"Um, Miles?"
"No."
"Matt?"
"No." This was getting tiring. Admittedly, four months had been a long
time. Four months that she had been fucking, sucking, and doing whatever
else the bikers had wanted. Entertained them, if you'd like. Probably
some dancing, some stripping, used to experiment the laws of biker physics.
How many bottles of vodka can a whore drink before passing out, can a bitch
cum by fucking a bottle, can a whore be used as an end table, does spraying
soda up a whore's keep her from getting pregnant, that kind of thing.
Still, I found it disconcerting to think she had forgotten me completely.
"Are you my husband?"
"Yes." Well at least she kind of recognized me.
She cried out, it seemed to be in... relief? That didn't make sense.
"I thought they had killed you," she sobbed. "I don't remember your
name."
"Myron," I said.
"Myron," she whispered to herself. She nodded happily, as if she had
just recalled something special. "Want to fuck me?"
Shit, the day was looking up. Many rehabilitation sessions seemed
imminent in my future.
"Not right now," I said cautiously, not wanting to upset her.
"Are you sure? It's all I'm good for."
Louis looked up from the body he was dragging and muttered, "You lucky
bastard. I didn't get rehabilitation time."
Linda got off all fours into a kneeling position. "Does your friend
want to fuck me? I can take you both."
Louis suddenly became very interested in dragging bodies, although I
noticed a grin break out onto his face. Really, a person's pain is
amusement for everyone else these days.
"Myron?" she said.
"What?" I asked.
"What's your friend doing to my masters?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure? I'm they're whore you know."
"Not anymore," I said.
Linda got a really frightened look on her face.
"What do you mean?"
"We're here to free you."
"Free me from what?" She looked ready to bolt.
"Nothing," I sighed. "Let's go downstairs."
"Okay," she said happily. Kind of brainlessly too. I don't know how,
but these biker bastards had turned my intelligent, beautiful, into a
stupid, bimbo, slut.
As we walked out the door other IYA agents were walking in, taking over
for Louis in moving the bodies. I heard a couple of them talking about who
should pick up the in the corner. Their conversation went something
like:
"You pick her up."
"No, no you pick her up."
"I don't want to get all over my uniform. It's practically flowing
from her cunt."
"So, what? It's okay for me to get all over me?"
"You get it all over yourself anyway."
"Man, fuck you."
"Fuck you. Okay, grab her legs, I'll grab her arms."
"Fine, fucker."
Downstairs all the bikers were either unconscious or lined up against
the living room wall with their arms above their heads. One was lying on
the floor in a pool of blood. He had a crowbar still clutched in his hand,
and a knife sticking out of his back. From the way he was lying he
probably had a couple in his front as well.
A few women were unconscious as well. The sergeant was talking to the
three that weren't, assuring them in calm tones that everything would be
okay. They didn't look as bad as my wife, one of them was in the remains
of a business suit, material cut away to reveal her and tits, so they
had probably been taken recently. One of them was crying.
My gasped when she saw the room. The captain saw the three of us
enter and motioned us over.
"Ah, Brainridge, find your wife?"
I nodded, and motioned to Linda.
The captain nodded. "Good, good, well we've been able to flush everyone
out. We're heading back to base."
I nodded again.
"That you bitch?" one of the ones against the wall shouted.
"Yes sir!" Linda said, jumping.
"What're you doing to our whore?" the wall guy demanded.
"Shut up," an agent told him.
"She's our whore," the wall guy said. "You can't take her. We trained
her fair and square!"
"I said, shut up," the agent said louder, and the wall guy rather firmly
in the back. The wall guy grunted. My squeaked in surprise.
"You can't use her, she only takes Dead Knife dick," the wall guy
continued. Obviously you didn't join a biker gang to obey authority, even
if they did have you spread against a wall. "Isn't that right, bitch?"
"Yes sir!" Linda shouted.
"Linda, shut up!" I growled annoyed.
"Tell them what you live for, bitch!"
"I love the Dead Knives, I want their cocks."
"Linda!"
"Whose Linda?" she asked me, confused.
"What's your name?" Louis asked carefully.
"Bitch," Linda said cheerfully. I could hear the mutterings of "lucky
bastard" from the other IYA agents. They knew Linda and I were going to
rehab, it was enough to make anyone jealous.
"You tell 'em Bitch!" the wall guy laughed, the others on the wall
laughed with him. Linda laughed right along with them, as though she had
just heard the funniest thing in her life.
"Sir?" I asked, pulling out my throwing knives.
The captain looked at me. It took him a second to understand. "Okay,
but don't kill him."
"Yes, sir," I said. I threw two knives. One pierced each hand, nailing
them to the wall. The wall guy screamed, blood flowed down his arms and
made a stain on my wall.
Curiously Linda did nothing. I've thought about that since then, and I
think I know why. See, she had spent the past four months with a biker
gang, and I've got to think that during that time she saw a lot of reckless
violence. After time she was probably conditioned not to react if one of
the Broken Knives got hurt, because more than likely he was by another
Broken Knife.
The gathering in the kitchen broke up as agents began to grab bodies to
take back to the head quarters. There the prisoners would be catalogued.
Any with bounties would be turned in for their rewards, the others would
either be framed for crimes that would get them lengthy jail terms or
killed and their bodies abandoned, maybe used to frame someone for murder.
All of them would be brainwashed into forgetting that they had been beaten
by the IYA.
The women on the other hand would be rehabilitated and returned to their
loved ones if they had any. Some might get recruited into the IYA. Those
that had wanted to join the Broken Knives all along, and had been part of
the subjugation of the others, would be used according to the victim's
wishes, in this case mine.
I stayed in the kitchen with Linda. Louis had gone to help with the
loading of the bodies, so we were left with the guards and the conscious
prisoners. The prisoners were escorted out by three agents, one prisoner
at a time.
"Bitch," one of the prisoners hissed.
"Yes sir?" Linda asked.
"Why aren't you trying to free us? We told you to help us if we were
ever caught by the cops."
"I'm sorry sir," Linda said sadly. "But it isn't the cops. It's my
husband."
"Your husband? The small dick bitch who couldn't fuck you right?"
"Yes sir," she said. I shook my head. Normally such insults would have
affected me... no, they pissed me off. But I had been called worse in my
times out on raids, he was going to have to do worse than that.
"Why the fuck are you helping him instead of us?"
"I love him," Linda said.
"You love our cock," the guy reminded her.
"Yes sir, more than anything."
"What do you say?"
"Please sir, please fuck me? I need your cock."
"Prove it Bitch."
"Yes sir!" Linda said. She got on her knees and started crawling to the
guy.
"Linda, cut it out!" I screamed. She kept crawling to him.
"Linda!" I shouted again. Nothing. Then I remembered.
"Bitch, stop it!"
Linda hesitated. She looked back at me. She was torn, she had never
had to confront this before, two things she claimed to love telling her two
different things.
"Bitch, do you want my cock or not?" the guy hissed.
Linda looked sadly at me, then turned around and started to crawl
towards the guy again. The guards aimed their tranq guns, but I raised my
arm to stop them.
"See that bastard!" the guy shouted triumphantly. "You only likes
Dead Knives cock!"
I let three knives fly. Two hit his hands, like the guy I had nailed to
the wall earlier. He jerked, just like I thought he would, and the third
one hit, bulls-eye. If he wasn't castrated by the knife, he sure as hell
wished he were. His convulsions caused him to spread a long line of blood
across the wall at crotch level.
I wondered what Linda would do now that he no longer had use of his
cock. She kept crawling toward him. I motioned to the guards and one of
them shot a tranq dart into my wife's ass. She crawled a few more paces
and then fell onto the floor. I didn't pick her up, like the arguing
about the upstairs in the corner, I didn't want on my uniform.
***
When we got back to the complex I was tired. I told Louis he could
handle the gang leader, but to make sure he didn't scream for too long. I
think Louis took that to mean burn off his vocal chords. Whatever.
I followed as they took my to be cleaned up, examined for STDs or
pregnancy, dressed, and then to the rehabilitation room. The attending
psychiatrist was Wendy. She started off by getting Linda to remember my
name and trying to explain to my about the life she once led. Future
sessions would entail deprogramming Linda, getting her to overcome her
guilt for betraying me (which involved me fucking other women), getting her
to realize that I still loved her, getting her to realize she still loved
me, and finally getting her used to the idea that we would have slaves
around our apartment and that she wasn't to obey them. See, I had decided
that the women that we had captured, the ones without loved ones and had
been doing everything voluntarily from the get go, they were going to be
our slaves. It actually happens quite a lot around the complex. We only
get three though. Anything over that goes into a pool and redistributed to
the victims that weren't victimized by any women, and so don't have the
options of getting slaves in their raid. (No one ever said the IYA was a
completely benevolent organization. Our public face is a terrorist
organization that shoves stuff up women's asses for pete's sake.)
I watched most of the first session through a two-way mirror. Linda
began to get used to the idea that her name was Linda. After a while I got
bored so I watched a Rockford Files rerun playing in the Rehabilitation
Room's lobby. They call it a Rehabilitation room, since that's what it
started out as, but these days it's more of a wing.
Wendy escorted my into the lobby when they were done. Wendy told
me not to expect progress to happen very quickly. The deprogramming would
likely take a month or two, as she slowly weaned Linda off of everything
she had learned. I asked why it would take so long and Wendy explained
that first they had to figure out what Linda had learned. They would
interrogate some of the prisoners, but the only one who knew everything was
Linda, and she wasn't very helpful when it came to explanations. Besides,
from my reports, it looked like Linda had willing accepted her role as
whore, enthusiastically, after the initial rape.
I remembered. I almost wanted to my wife. Almost. Drudging up
old memories can do that sometimes. But I remembered that the IYA was
supposed to be the outlet for those feelings. Rehabilitation would show
Linda why she had been wrong, a lot more effectively than a smack across
the face.
Before I left Wendy gave me some tips on how to help Linda. First, I
was to keep calling her Linda, never call her Bitch, not even in anger.
Second, never force her into sex, let it be her own idea. Third, refer to
her as often as possible as my wife. Fourth, don't let her be naked and
try to get her to wear unsexy clothes as often as possible since it would
be the opposite of what the bikers made her look. Fifth, treat her as I
used to, try to get her back in the habit of being an intelligent adult.
Finally, until Wendy okayed it, Linda was never to leave the apartment
except to go to her rehabilitation sessions.
I was given the appointments for the removal of Linda's tattoos, which
Wendy would oversee. If I wanted the piercings out I was given a phone
number to make an appointment.
I took my to my, natch, our apartment. She marveled at the size of
the complex along the way. I hurried her along, remembering Wendy's last
rule.
When we got to the apartment, I let her look around and explore her new
home. "It's big," she said. "But not as big as the house. Should I get
naked now?"
"No," I said, remembering the fourth rule. "Leave the jumpsuit on."
"Okay. But it doesn't look sexy."
"That's okay, I love you no matter what you wear."
She seemed surprised but she didn't say anything. She walked to the
corner and knelt, her head up, her back straight, pushed forward. I
very quickly went to her and picked her up by the arm. She didn't resist.
"You don't have to do that," I told her. When I went back to the other
side of the room she followed me.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"Following you," she said.
"Why?"
"Because you want me to do something with you."
"What?"
"That's why you picked me."
Ah, she had been trained to wait in the corner. If someone wanted her
to do something he would pick her and she would follow obediently. Shit,
those bastards were more sophisticated in their training than they knew.
It made me angry.
"No."
"Oh." She walked back to the corner.
"Stop that! Come here! I mean, no! Arrgh! What's wrong with you?!"
"I'm sorry sir."
"Myron! My name is Myron!"
"I'm sorry Myron."
"Don't be," I said defeated. This was harder than I thought it would
be. I slumped where I stood. My shoulders were feeling a lot heavier than
they should. I needed to go to sleep. I trudged over to the bed and fell
into it.
Linda knelt beside the bed.
"What are you doing?" I asked wearily.
"Can the whore go to sleep too?"
"Whatever," I muttered.
She settled down on the floor.
"Get up here," I said.
She stood up and crawled onto the bed. Her hands went to my pants and
she unbuckled my belt.
"Stop that," I told her.
Linda rose onto her knees and started to unzip her jumpsuit.
"No! Sleep! Just sleep. You remember what sleep is, don't you?"
"But..."
"What?!"
"Don't you want to fuck first?"
"No! Go to sleep."
"I... Okay."
She settled down with her back to me. I didn't know what to expect, but
this wasn't it. I had heard that it took others a while to get their
girlfriends or wives back to normal, but I had never thought it would be
this bad. She was like a child, or worse, a dog.
I had been fueling myself on hatred for the past four months, and now
that I had gotten my revenge, what now? I had my wife, sort of. This is
what I had been working for? A slut who thought she belonged to a biker
gang, and could only relate to me by pretending I was part of that gang?
Gee wow, they didn't put that in the pamphlet.
Still it was my wife. MY wife. For better or worse and all that crap.
It sure didn't get any worse, oh no, she could have been pregnant or caught
some disease. Nope, the doc said she was just really loose. Lucky me.
Damn it!
I guess it was instinct. Maybe it was having someone share my bed after
four months of being alone. Whatever it was I put my arm around her and
held her close to me. And suddenly I remembered why I had gotten so pissed
of in the first place. The bastards had taken her away from me. They had
made her theirs instead of mine.
Maybe Louis had waited to put the leader to death.
I held her body tightly against mine and I went to sleep.
I was awoken in the middle of the night because someone was shaking me.
I thought Linda had run off and someone was trying to alert me, but I
realized her body was still pressed up against mine. No, it turned out
that Linda was crying violently, in her sleep. I held onto her even
tighter. She grasped my arm protectively.
She was muttering something. I couldn't hear it so I tried to move my
body to a better position. Linda was holding onto my arm too tightly for
me to do that. Instead I began to pull back with my arm. Linda's grip on
it helped, as slowly I turned Linda in her sleep so that she no longer had
her back to me. It put me in an awkward position, and I had to fight to
keep my balance, but it allowed me to lean over close enough to hear her
whisper.
"...myron..."
Shit! Well, well, well. Wait, why was she crying and saying my name?
Regret, disappointment, fear I'd save her, fear I wouldn't, loneliness?
Damn it, so many options. I would have to bring this up the next time we
met Wendy.
"...don't him..."
Again, them don't me? Me don't them? What? Was she afraid I
was getting or was she afraid I was hurting her precious masters? I
was wishing she would talk in her sleep, but in complete sentences. God,
even in her sleep I was getting pissed.
"I promise to be good, don't Myron."
Oh shit. At that moment I realized that maybe she wasn't as
enthusiastic in her role as I had thought. The time when she told me she
loved them more than me, right before I was contacted by the IYA... was
she protecting me?
Shit, these things are always more complicated than they should be.
But if she had... Damn and I had just left her to those jackals.
I wiped a tear from her face. Her eyes shot open.
"Don't hit me! I'm a good whore!" She tried to break away from me, but
I grabbed her, but she was already sliding down my body, unzipping my pants
trying to grab my cock to show me, to show the biker, how eager she was for
cock.
She had my cock in her mouth before I was able to try and stop her.
Whoever had trained her had trained her well. She was enthusiastically, I had never been taken in the mouth like that before. I
almost didn't want to stop her. Almost.
I pulled gently on her hair and she stopped sucking.
"Get up here," I told her, and slowly she rose. She was surprised it
was me.
"Myron?"
"It's okay, it's me. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
"Myron?"
"Your safe now."
She began to cry again, only this time she leaned into me and let me
hold her. She held onto me as well, tightly, she almost crushed one of my
ribs. I didn't stop her. I'm ashamed to say that I fell asleep while she
was crying into my chest.
When I woke up I was on my back. Linda was my cock again. Like
I said, she was very good. It wasn't long before I shot my load into her
mouth. She swallowed, like a good whore I guess.
She climbed back up the bed and lay next to me. She stroked my face
with her fingers.
"I can't believe it's really you."
"I'm sorry," I told her.
"No, it's my fault, I shouldn't have given in, but they said they were
going to kill you and then they said they had, I didn't have any choice."
"It's okay," I told her.
"No, it's not. I'm not your anymore, I'm just a whore."
"No you're not, you're my wife, and I love you."
"I don't deserve it."
"Yes you do."
"No I don't. I'm dirty. I don't even deserve to be in the same bed as
you."
I was beginning to see why Wendy thought rehabilitation was going to
take a while. All the stages were beginning to make sense as well. I
thought the stage where we had to convince her I still loved her was
strange, but now...
Linda began to get up.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't deserve to be in the same bed as you. I'll sleep on the floor
from now on, like a proper whore, I'll only be in your bed when you want to
be fucked."
"Don't you dare," I told her. "I didn't spend four months learning new
and interesting ways to kill people so you could keep being a whore. You
get in this bed now."
I swear, if I didn't know better I would have guessed that she did it to
annoy me. She started to take her jumpsuit off.
"Leave that on!"
"But it doesn't make me look like a whore!"
"Good!"
I rose up and I kissed her. I shouldn't have, I tasted some of my own
cum, and no should ever have to do that. Still the reasoning was
sound, I hoped. I pulled away from it, much to Linda's chagrin.
"We don't have to meet Wendy until noon. Until then we are going to
stay right here and have a normal conversation. You aren't going to call
yourself a whore, you're not going to act like a whore, and you're not
going to be a whore. Now, what do you want to talk about."
"Um..."
"Well?"
"I like cock."
"No!"
"I'm sorry! I'm just a stupid whore!"
"No! Linda," I took her hand and stared into her eyes. "Don't you
remember anything else? Before the bikers?"
"No," she sobbed. "I just remember that I want cock. I need cock,
because I'm a dirty slut. I'll do whatever you tell me if you'll give me
your cock. I don't remember anything else except you."
"What about me?"
"I miss you. I love you."
"I love you too."
"Myron?"
"Yes?"
"Can we fuck now?"
"What?"
"Please! I think it's a conditioned reflex, but I need to fuck.
Tasting makes me horny!"
I looked at her, she was serious. She really needed to fuck. I sighed.
"Okay, but only because you said 'conditioned reflex.'"
"Thank you sir!" she said, already pulling off her jumpsuit. As she did
I got a look at the piercings through her nipples and the new ones through
her cunt. The front of her body was thankfully devoid of tattoo, so all I
saw was her beautiful skin.
We fucked. It was good, even if her was loose. And I reminded
myself to ask Wendy if during the deprogramming if she could leave in the
sexual techniques.
END ---------------------------------
I think this will be the last erotic fiction I'll be writing for the
next few months. I know, I know, that's my usual schedule. But I've got
other things on my mind so I can't devote myself to this stuff. Up next
will either be Wolf's Bane pt.2 or another IYA story.
As for the mc? in the subject heading, at what point does conditioning
become mind control? Is it mind control? I don't know, so I just put the
? there.
Ever have one of those days when you've forgotten in what POV you're
writing. Yeah, so if you see any problems here, tell me so I can fix it.
I'm still not doing any proofreading, and I'm loving it! One day I may
proofread all my material, but that day isn't today.
feedback is appreciated. Send comments to...
aaalexi92@yahoo.com
Most of my are archived at http://www.asstr.org/~alexi92
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