Indoctrination - Chapter 26

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WARNING! This is a work of erotic BDSM FICTION. It is ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL of an EXTREME SEXUAL NATURE, including acts of abduction, exhibitionism, humiliation, and discipline. This is not for readers who are easily offended or incapable of distinguishing fact from fiction. The author does not promote such activity in real life unless it is between consenting adults and practiced safely. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give anyone the rights to post or print content without obtaining the author's permission first.
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Indoctrination
by Night Owl


Chapter 26: Departures

Two days after Amber and Heidi made their pact, Amber asked Sonia if they could extend the garden they had been tending to get some spinach, broccoli, chard, and cauliflower planted before the summer was over. Everyone was pleased with what the girls had produced so far, including Sonia, so their head mistress approved the idea. Since there were no surveillance cameras, they could now plan their escape, but with a guard posted nearby they still had to be careful.

The next morning, they began breaking up the sod, and spoke in low whispers as they worked. They first discussed the possibility of including one or two of the other girls in their escape plot. Monique was immediately ruled out, as was the new girl, Cobie, who was still under close watch and too risky to approach. That left Livia, and here Amber and Heidi were split. Both of them liked her a lot and wanted to bring her with them, but Amber had reservations.

She remembered how Livia was when they first met – good-humored, lighthearted, and chatty -- almost to a fault, for her excessive talking often got her in trouble. Then in just a few short weeks, her behavior had changed drastically. She seemed dull and apathetic now, as if all the personality had been siphoned out of her and bottled up somewhere. Occasionally, one might have seen sparks of her old self -- during her dance performances, for instance, or when she was entertaining a guest -- but only when it was required of her. The rest of the time, she was just an empty shell of herself. Amber explained to Heidi that it was because of her training.

“I think they finally got to her,” she said, “Livia’s like Monique now, and if we tell her anything, then she might go to Raven.”

Heidi understood, and so in the end they decided it would be safer not to include anyone else.

Next, the girls had to figure out when to make their move. Heidi thought they should wait until the following week, when everyone would be put to work cleaning both the house and surrounding grounds. Len usually handed out the assignments, and Heidi was sure she could talk him into putting them both in charge of cleaning the slave quarters located in the dungeon. That way they could slip past the cameras, and then down to the wine cellar below where the tunnel was located. Amber agreed.

No matter how well thought-out the plan was, they both knew their chances of escape were slim to none. For one thing, it wouldn’t take long before someone discovered they were missing, and the girls had no idea how long it would take to get through the tunnel. Second, when (or if) they made it to the woods, it was going to be a long hike before they were safely away from Dark Oak Manor. All the same, they were ready to try.

Once the new area was cleared of sod, Heidi broke up the clumps of soil while Amber added the peat and fertilizer. It was another hot and humid day, and their bodies were sweltering underneath their tunics. Heidi wiped her muddy hands on the grass, then took the water bottle and offered some to Amber after taking a drink. Their guard, Tony, was sitting under the gazebo about twenty yards from them, trying to stay awake.

“I hope they let us take a shower after this,” Heidi said. “I feel like damn swamp rat.”

“Me too.”

Finally, the bell sounded from the house.

“Time for lunch,” Tony called out them from the shade. “Let’s get everything picked up.”

The girls gathered all the tools together and put them in the wheel barrel, then rolled them toward the shed while Tony headed back up to the house to wait for them.

“You know . . . I’m tempted to make a break for those woods right now and forget about the tunnel,” Heidi whispered as they walked.

Amber understood what she was getting at. To the left of them, there was a small man-made creek that meandered through the back edge of the property, and about fifty yards beyond, the woods, with no wall or even a fence to keep them in. The idea really was tempting, but Amber knew better.

“That would be foolish, and you know it,” she finally answered. “We wouldn’t get very far in the open like this. And besides, Monique told me they keep three bloodhounds and two Dobermans in a kennel nearby.”

“Have they ever used them?”

“Twice. Both times, a girl tried to make a run for it just as you said, and neither of them got very far. That’s why there are no fences around this place. Our best chance is that tunnel, and hopefully a VERY good head start.”

“You’re right.”

As they walked, a very large dragonfly buzzed right by them. Heidi watched as it zigzagged and swooped down to the creek. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and fixed on a small clearing that was almost hidden by cattails. When Amber turned her head in the direction Heidi was staring, she too froze.

There was the body of a naked woman lying there in the grass along the creek bank. Amber raised one hand to shade her eyes and saw that it was Cobie, the new girl. She was blindfolded and lying face-up to the sun; her arms and legs were stretched wide and tethered to four wooden stakes that had been pounded into the ground. They both stared at her for a moment without saying a word.

Gone now, were the soft, dark curls between her legs, for all the new girls were shaved immediately after their arrival to Dark Oak Manor. She moved only once -- a twist of her hand against its restraint. Her bare arm turned with it and brushed lightly, almost sensually against the short grass. The other arm and one foot were stretched to a muddy sand bar next to the creek. She seemed to be completely immersed in her own suffering. Sweat shimmered off her pale, spread-eagled body in the broiling mid-day heat, her moans grated with thirst, while sounds of sweet water lapping over the stones could be heard a mere few feet away. Though the mosquitoes were not out yet, there were plenty of smaller insects buzzing around her, a few regarding her as nothing more than a harmless landing pad.

As yet, Cobie had no knowledge of their presence, and Amber was thankful for it. She remembered seeing her the first night they brought her in, her black dress torn between her breasts. Her dark hair was lank with perspiration, her pallid face streaked with tears, and her eyes – Amber remembered the shear terror and disbelief, and that silent plea for help. She couldn’t bear to see that look again.

“Let’s go,” Heidi finally said in a low voice, and they continued on to the shed. “I wish we could bring that girl with us.”

“I do too, but it would be too risky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They put the tools away in the shed, then Heidi slammed the door in anger, “I’ll say one thing though. When we DO get out, I’m going to blow the lid off this whole fucking place!”

Amber said nothing. When the bell rang again, they hurried back to the house.


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Raven was watching Heidi and Amber through the window in his office as they headed back to the house. He knew something was going on between those two, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

“I guess I could beat out of them,” he mumbled to himself in a low voice.

He was in a foul mood that day and ready to take it out on anyone. There was still no word from Jason as to Marco’s whereabouts, forcing him to suspend all operations, and that meant no money would be coming in after the two girls he was watching and the new one that had just arrived were sold off. Even worse, if the FBI had Marco, as everyone now suspected, then he would have to close up shop altogether. The walls around his little realm seemed to be crumbling, and at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it.

After the girls entered the house, he sat down at his desk and thought about another order of unpleasant business he had to deal with.

His fourth girl, Livia, was finished with her training. That meant he would have to make arrangements to send her off to Lamar Quinn, and he hated that idea. The girl was a valuable piece of flesh, and guaranteed to fetch a top price at the next auction, but he had an agreement with Lamar. The last girl he sold him was most difficult -- not that Jerri refused him, but she didn’t warm up to him either. Lamar was disappointed, to say the least, and one week later, he finally stormed into the house and threatened to go to The Board if something wasn’t done about it. So Raven sent Jerri to a work camp in South America and gave Lamar a pick of the litter to make up for his loss. He chose Livia.

Raven picked up his phone and paged Sonia, then he opened Livia’s file:

Birth Date: September 7, 1975
Height: 5’ 6”
Weight: 110 lbs.
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Green

Her entire record covering every stage of her training had been filled out down to the scheduled date she was to be sold at auction. Raven looked at her photo and smiled, then he took his pen and scrawled,

‘No auction. Sold to Lamar Quinn’

Just then, Sonia’s voice came over the intercom.

“You needed to speak with me?”

“Yes. Tomorrow we will be sending Livia to Lamar Quinn, so I’ll need you to arrange the transportation.”

“Yes sir.”

“But first, I want you to get her ready for a session with me in one hour. Cell 4.”

“Yes sir.”

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Put a watch on Amber and Heidi.”

There was a pause, “All right . . . anything I should know about?”

“Not just yet,” Raven told her. “It might be nothing, but I want you to keep an eye on them and report to me if you see or hear anything suspicious.”


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In one hour, Raven was waiting for Livia in the dungeon. Cell no. 4 had no furniture, just a chain and pulley system in the ceiling above, and a metal wall cabinet that contained a wide variety of tools and implements used for restraint and torture.

When the girl was brought to him, her body was draped in bright red slave silk that hung off one shoulder with a gold cord tied around her waist. She immediately assumed the proper position, sinking down to her knees, then leaning back on her heels while keeping her back straight, her chest out, head up, and her eyes to the floor. Raven had been with The Organization for more than twenty-five years, and it still astonished him how easy it was to transform any human being into a mindless thrall.

Of course, the word ‘any’ made his observation a bit of an overstatement. Not everyone’s thoughts and beliefs could be turned so easily against their will, but there were people in The Organization who were very efficient in finding the right candidates with submissive characteristics that could be tapped into and manipulated. Internet blogs and social networking websites were, by far, the best sources for collecting data because the contributors, particularly the women, were more open and honest about their thoughts and feelings. There were recruiters with backgrounds in psychology and social behavior whose job it was to establish relationships with these ‘targets’, and computer hackers that could tap into their personal profiles and gather whatever information they could to establish a surveillance.

Sometimes women were simply picked out of a crowd and shadowed by former private detectives. The girl Raven was looking at had been found this way while performing in a New York strip club. Generally, The Organization didn’t bother with these types of women. They were considered far too independent for mind control, and being exhibitionists, the shock of ‘exposing’ their bodies wasn’t as effective either – that being a critical aspect in the first stages of the training process. After some research, however, it was determined that Livia’s psychological make-up had strong submissive tendencies, making her a suitable candidate for indoctrination in spite of her profession.

The training process used by The Organization was almost full proof, but only after a long evolution of research and development in the studies of behavioral modification.

The theory was first inspired by a Russian scientist, named Pavlov. He discovered that you could condition a dog to salivate on command simply by associating food with the ringing of a bell. He then carried out similar experiments on human beings and came up with the same results. The story of Pavlov’s Dogs was well-acknowledged in the scientific community, but what few people knew was that, during a particularly severe rainstorm, his laboratories were flooded and they were unable to reach his dogs until the floodwaters finally receded five days later. Upon returning, Pavlov discovered something truly remarkable. Before the flood, many of the dogs had been conditioned to respond to various stimuli, but after the flood, all traces of the conditioning in the dogs disappeared! Bells, food, nothing could induce the former salivation response that had been so carefully implanted in the dogs' nervous systems.

What mysterious influence could account for this remarkable turn of events? Pavlov studied carefully what had transpired while he was away from the dogs. They had been left without food or warmth. They had been isolated for days. They had been subjected to extreme stress, never knowing if they would live or die. These were the factors that had produced the washing away of the previous conditioning from the dogs' brains. Pavlov and other Russians followed up this line of research, but it was the Chinese communists during the Korean War who first saw its real potential for use on human beings in spreading their propaganda.

Psychologists referred to it as ‘thought reform’ or more commonly ‘brainwashing’. This technology of thought and behavior control was the whole blueprint of The Organization when it was secretly formed over 40 years ago. Since most human beings, even those who were submissive in nature, would never offer themselves unconditionally to be lifetime slaves, it became necessary to drastically reform their thought processes by using the most invasive forms of influences developed by Pavlov, the Chinese, and other sources.

It required the complete isolation of new trainees from each other and the outside world; to restrict their eating to low protein food, foster sleep deprivation, control their basic daily needs, such as going to the bathroom, so that each trainee became entirely dependent on the will of the agent (or trainer). There were also the psychological influences – the physical and verbal abuse, sexual and emotional manipulation, and the propaganda methods used to ‘educate’ them. All these influences were used to systematically break down the trainee's identity to the point that it wouldn’t function anymore. Once the slate was clean, the agent could then replace it with another set of behaviors, attitudes and beliefs that worked in the target's current environment.

But even under the most ideal brainwashing conditions, the effects of the process were most often short term, meaning that the old identity was not eradicated, but merely in hiding, and once the new identity stopped being reinforced, the person's old attitudes and beliefs would start to return. That meant a fully-trained slave’s thought processes still had to be reinforced after the training by her/his new master, or in many cases, sent back to a training facility periodically to be re-indoctrinated.

Raven had no doubts that Livia would eventually be sent back to him for reinforcement, but it wouldn’t be the same. Once the ownership was transferred, she would no longer be his property to do with whatever he wished. So for this last session, he was going to make the most of it.

The girl remained on her knees, her eyes to the floor while Raven opened the cabinet doors wide to display the assortment of implements hanging inside. He chose two pairs of leather cuffs, one for the wrists, one for the ankles, and tossed them deliberately on the table in front of her. Livia’s eyes darted up to them briefly, then back the floor. Her reaction was perfect – just a subtle expression of fear and nervous anticipation, but without breaking her posture.

The girl was not beautiful in a classic sense, but exotic, yes. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were sea green and feline-like in appearance. Her nose wasn’t a pert upturned protrusion, but long, and together, with her sharply chiseled jaw line made the lower half of her face jut out in a most strikingly, unusual way. Her mouth was also large for conventional standards, and her lips maybe a touch prominent, but she knew how to use them, as Raven could eagerly attest, having had first-hand knowledge of her oral skills.

Raven surveyed the cabinet again until he found what he was looking for -- the only piece of equipment that Livia had yet to experience, and perfect for their last session together. He turned away from the cabinet so that she could see what he now held in his hand. Again her eyes darted up again, only this time her reaction was longer and not as subtle -- a nervous glance at the ‘violet wand’ before looking away.

Raven smiled, “Is something wrong, pet?”

“No, Master.”

“Come now,” he was persistent. “You can speak freely.”

“I have always been of afraid of those, Sir,” the girl was German, and the thick accent in her voice was just as striking as her appearance.

“Well then, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

Raven knew that any form of discipline involving electricity terrified Livia, and her reaction was exactly what he always liked to see in a woman before demonstrating to her that the thing she feared the most was the very thing she needed.

“Stand up and release the silk so I can have a look at you,” he ordered.

Livia rose to her feet, and tried not to look at the wand, as she untied the cord belt and let the dress slide off her body to the floor. Standing nude before him, she obediently held her wrists in front of her so Raven could cuff them.

Every line and curve of her body was perfect, her skin a light almond color, with no trace of hair under the arms, on the legs, or between them. The only mark on this beautiful canvas was the large, spikey tribal symbol tattooed on her lower left hip that pointed to the smooth, pink cleft between her thighs. She also had a small gold ring pierced into her oval-shaped navel which was there when she arrived. Raven liked that ring and was tempted to have her nipples pierced as well, but that decision would be left to her new master.

The girl stood like a statue while he fastened the second pair of cuffs to her ankles, and secured her wrist cuffs to a chain that hung down from the pulley assembly in the ceiling. He then moved to a wall crank and turned the wheel. The gritty clicking sounds of grinding metal reverberated off the walls surrounding them as the chain inched upward, pulling her wrists with it, stretching her arms, then her long, willowy body until she was forced to stand on her toes. Only then, did Raven stop turning the wheel and flipped the latch to lock it in position.

He went to the cabinet to retrieve one last item, a leather arm binder. He fastened the cuffs around each upper arm, so the strap that ran between them prevented Livia from bringing her head forward past her shoulders. It’s purpose was to keep a slave’s back straight, her head back and her chest thrust forward so it could be whipped or flogged without running a risk of striking her in the face. It also prevented her from looking down at her own body. It also restricted her field of vision, most notably the freedom to move her head down to even see her own body, further increasing the sense of objectification and erotic subjugation.

Raven extinguished all but one torch. Livia’s face was almost hidden behind the strap in the shadows, while the orange light from the remaining torch lapped over the rest of her body. Her breasts looked especially inviting, hanging high off her ribs with her arms raised, her nipples already pushing outward from the dampness of the room. Raven took some time to fondle them, and soon had her writhing off the chain and moaning. He teased her a bit more by withholding any further attention until she silently begged for it, before resuming, stroking, massaging her breasts, tweaking her nipples. He then released her and moved to the table where the wand was left and plugged the cord into a nearby outlet.

The device, itself was a coil transformer encased in a missal-shaped handle. On the end, a glass globe electrode attachment delivered a continuous stream of low current, high-frequency static electricity when held close to the skin. A dial on the handgrip offered a wide range of settings – from tiny, sensual burning sensations, much like holding your hand near a sparkler on the Fourth of July, to more significant electrical shocks that could actually burn the flesh if held there too long.

Again, Raven admired every curve of her naked body, now made stretched and available to him with her hands secured above her head. Livia then had to ask her Master politely to, “please torture me with electricity.”

And who was he to say ‘no’ to such a request!

Turning on the switch, the transformer inside the wand crackled to life and the globe emitted a purplish glow as a backfill of gas filled the enclosed glass. He held it very close to her left nipple without touching it. Livia screeched as the current leaped from the glowing orb to her flesh. Her body shuddered so much that Raven thought she would leap right out of her skin, but she didn’t move otherwise. He held the wand there for about six seconds and took it away.

Livia’s nipples were already raised, cocked, bolt upright, and that was just from the lowest setting! He moved the wand down the length of one arm, past the armpit to her ribs and watched the globe crackle with purple light against her skin. The air started to fill with the smell of ozone. He turned up the power. The wand made a buzzing sound. This time the voltage was more intense, the sparks more visible, forcing Livia to twist, sway, and turn on the chain as he dragged the globe up and down and around her body. Her movements reminded Raven of a grub worm dangling helplessly over a lit match. Every time he adjusted the setting, she would hear the buzzing sound and brace herself for what was to come.

Then, at the highest setting, Livia started to scream. If it wasn’t for the resistance of the gas inside the bulb and the glass enclosing it, the current might have gone straight to her heart. He changed the attachments for different effects. Her body shimmered all over with sweat now. Her struggling grew more and more desperate, her twisting and turning, putting even more pressure on her strained arms.

To culminate the scene, Raven used the most devious attachment of all, a metal probe. He allowed Livia a few moments of rest, and for her mind to focus on what was to come. He explained to her that the probe would be extremely painful and could potentially burn whatever part of her body it came in contact with. Livia then, very sweetly and with an innocent thrust, offered her Master the beautiful pink, flesh between her hips to do with what he pleased.

More screams followed, and loud enough now to be heard throughout the house.

After the session was finally over, she hung limp off the chain from exhaustion. Angry burn marks crisscrossed her body, mapping trails that the wand had left in its wake. Raven, on the other hand, was relaxed, for Livia made him very happy that afternoon. He was proud of her and satisfied that she would serve her new Master well.


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On that same evening Madam Isha performed her dance at Dark Oak Manor, Jason finally got a phone call from Marco. Nearly three weeks had passed since his partner last reported in and his voice was clearly shaken, but Jason knew what to do. He listened patiently while Marco told him the whole story, which was clearly obvious by now – that, somehow, the FBI linked him to the Heidi Strobel kidnapping, and that his apartment had been searched and put under surveillance. He was very apologetic and tried to explain that he didn’t know for sure what was really happening until just a few hours ago, which was why he waited so long before calling in. It was a lame excuse, but Jason wasn’t surprised, or even angry. Marco was scared, and understandably more fearful of The Organization then he was of the Feds. Jason couldn’t blame him for that one, and now that contact had finally been made, he knew he had to handle this situation very carefully.

He asked the obvious questions: Is there anything at your place that might link you to us? Any names or phone numbers written down? Did you tell anyone about what happened, inside or outside of The Organization? Has anyone followed you?

Marco answered a firm ‘no’ to all his questions.

“All right,” Jason’s voice was calm. “It looks like no major damage was done, but you know I’ll still have to make a report. You remember the procedure, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah I know . . . but do you think they’ll . . .”

“Just shut-up and listen,” Jason interrupted him. “I can’t be sure how The Board is going to react to this, so don’t tell me where you are just yet. I don’t want to know. Just stay put, and give me some time to work something out for you. OK?”

“OK.”

He then looked at his watch.

“Give me a call in exactly three hours from your location. I should have an answer for you by then. In the meantime, stay put and don’t talk to anybody. And don’t even think about running. That’ll only screw things up even more for you. Got it?”

“Got it. I won’t run . . . I promise.”

“Good. Remember, that’s three hours,” then Jason hung up and took a long breath.

Of course, he was lying to Marco. The Organization’s board of directors had already been informed of the matter. Shortly after Jason reported the leak to Raven, two very reliable men were sent to the apartment, and they confirmed the FBI surveillance. The important thing to do now was to make sure Marco stayed calm. The only way to do this was to let Jason handle everything directly, and to convince Marco that his partner could still be trusted. Without someone to turn to, the idiot might panic and skip the country, or even worse, run to the Feds. Both Raven and The Board were very wise in using this approach.

Jason picked up the phone again and booked a one-way flight to Mexico City for early the next morning. Then he opened an envelope and checked all the necessary documents – passport, birth certificate, drivers license, plenty of cash, and so on. He thought about calling Raven to tell him he had just made contact with Marco, and that the plan was under way. But after some careful thought, he decided to hold off on that for now, at least until the job was finished.

So he waited for Marco’s call, and after three hours, Jason started to get nervous. During the next eight minutes he must have glanced at his watch twice as many times.

“Shit,” he spoke out loud to no one, “that son-of-a-bitch took off!”

Then the phone rang, and Jason picked up the receiver.

“You’re late,” he barked.

“Sorry . . . I-I just . . .”

“Shut-up and listen,” Jason interrupted him again. “I booked a flight for you to Mexico. I also have the documents you’ll need, and some cash, enough to last you six months down there until you get settled in. The plan is for you to lay low for a year or so while we set up your new I.D.”

There was a sigh of relief on the other line.

“Of course, you realize your days of working in the field are over,” Jason continued. “Even with your new I.D., Raven will want to keep you out of the public as much as possible. He’ll most-likely assign you as a handler, but that’s better than the alternative. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, that’s fine,” Marco answered him gratefully. “Thanks for the help. I owe you one.”

“Just stay low, and keep your ass out of trouble while you’re down there. I went out on a limb for you on this.”

“Yeah, I know and I appre. . .”

“Tell me where you’re at, so I can get this stuff to you.”

“Checkpoint C.”

“Got it,” Jason looked at his watch again. “Now listen carefully. Do you have a car?”

“No. It’s at my place. I’ve been on foot.”

“Anything in the vehicle that I should know about?”

“Nope. It’s clean.”

“Good. Now stay where your are and I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes.”

Jason hung up without waiting for an answer. Then he grabbed the envelope and left his place.

It was almost midnight (about the same time Ethan Rom was getting ‘a taste’ of Amber in the kitchen) when he pulled into an empty parking lot near the payphone Marco had called from. His partner was waiting for him as instructed. He appeared to be much more relaxed now after the first phone call. Jason exited his car with the envelope in his left hand. The two men approached, smiling.

Marco drew a long sigh of relief, “Man, you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

Jason’s smile went away, and with his right hand, he pulled a Glock with a silencer out from a deep pocket inside his coat and fired.

Marco never had a chance to defend himself. The bullet entered his forehead cleanly and sprayed a fine red mist as it exited from behind. His body landed on the asphalt with a hollow thud, and smoke from the gunpowder could be seen in the dim light of a nearby lamppost hovering over them.

Jason buried Marco later that same night in a field with four gallons of lime -- "Mafioso style" as he and other ‘fixers’ like to put it. He had done exactly as told after Raven discussed the matter with The Board. Now he was to call in and make a final report.

But Jason had no intention of carrying out that last order. The flight reservation to Mexico had been made for himself, the documents too. Neither Raven, nor The Board knew anything about this part of the plan. Jason was convinced that he and his second partner, Dave Roberts, would be the next in line. He had no proof of this, and Raven certainly didn’t give him any reason to suspect, but it all made sense. They were the only two men with close links to Marco, and their lives certainly were not worth the gamble in exposing the entire organization.

On his way to the airport, Jason pulled off to another phone, this one in an old-style booth, and tried calling Dave. No answer, and that was the fourth try in two days. He couldn’t help smiling a little as he hung the receiver up. Dave was smart too, and probably had his own exit planned. Or worse, he might be spilling his guts to the Feds right at this very moment. Jason didn’t want to think about that one. Anyway, the whole thing was out of his hands now.

He shut the door to the phone booth behind him, got into his car, and with a final check of his watch, sped off down the road, spraying gravel out from behind the tires.

(continued)