Captured Souls (10 page)

I hope Specimen 3 works out just as nicely.

Specimen 2

Specimen 2 listened to Specimen 1’s advice. He stopped fighting me on every little thing and soon was permitted to wander around his apartment by himself.

We had dinner every night, with it culminating in Specimen 1’s TV-library room, since he had one and Specimen 2 didn’t.

After about three days, I began to let him and Specimen 1 comingle. I kept the hallway between their suites unlocked so they could visit with each other. The doors to the outside world were still kept bolted and electronically charged so that they couldn’t escape. I made the effort to have evening meals in the dining hall to keep our little unit cohesive.

The day before, a special delivery had been made to the house. Several huge boxes had arrived and I was excited to share the contents with Specimen 2.

I took him upstairs to the main floor so that he could help me carry the boxes down. He wore the dog collar in case he tried to escape or overpower me in any way.

“I have some surprises for you,” I told him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“First, your bikes have arrived. These three boxes are your bikes, equipment from your apartment and some clothes and other things that I thought you might like to have here with you.”

“Really?” He rushed over to the boxes and ripped open the first one. The yellow gleam of one of his beloved bike frames was revealed. “Oh my God, I thought I’d never see you again.”

He tore open the rest of the box and pulled the cardboard and foam packaging away from the bike.

“You can keep it in your room. We’ll put hooks on your wall, just like you had in your apartment.”

He hugged the bike as if it were a long-lost puppy that had finally made its way back to him. “You have no idea how much I love this bike.”

“I’m beginning to see,” I said.

We unpacked the crates from his apartment first. When that was completed, I showed him the other boxes. Very large boxes.

“These are for you too. Some new state-of-the-art equipment for your training.”

He tore open the boxes to find more training equipment. An elliptical, an exercise bike, a medicine ball, weights, a bench and much more.

It took several hours to unpack, haul the stuff down to his room and then set it up. I had considered asking Specimen 1 to help us, but he wasn’t really the athletic type. This was more of a bonding job between me and Specimen 2. I hadn’t had my workout that day so it suited me fine to be hauling things down the stairs. I did have secret elevators at the back of the house, but I didn’t want Specimen 2 to know about them.

Once his equipment was set up, he actually looked the happiest I’d seen him since his arrival so many weeks ago.

“You will need to begin training right away,” I told him. “You have some meets coming up, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I don’t even know what day it is,” he said.

“Don’t worry about dates. Just start your training.”

“How will I train on the bike?”

“You have that new bike over there,” I said pointing at the state-of-the-art exercise bike with every gadget imaginable that we’d just assembled.

“But I need to ride outside, get my bike working properly. Surely you’re not keeping me under house arrest.”

“You can earn the privilege of exercising in the real world. Step by step, my dear.”

“Whatever that means. When’s this quarantine over?”

I ignored his petulance.

“I have my own work to attend to,” I said as I turned to leave.

“Enjoy your new gym, my dear.”

I left his room and locked it, hearing him screaming obscenities as I left him there.

Specimen 3

I had quite a workout helping Specimen 2, so I took a long, hot shower. The steam relaxed my tired muscles and the scent of musky, gingery shower gel filled the room. My hair was short so I let it get wet. Currently, it was red again.
 

In my bedroom, I tried to decide what to wear. Looking at the clock, it seemed that a bathrobe was in order. I wrapped myself in a black velvet bathrobe and sat down at my vanity table while running a comb through my damp hair. My flesh was pale so I added a bit of eyeliner and some dark shadow to liven up my eyes and a dab of red lipstick so I didn’t look like a corpse.
 

Given the late hour, there would be no going back to the lab. I checked the boys in the security cameras. Specimen 1 was at his computer, clicking away, stopping now and again to light a cigarette or to sip his scotch. Specimen 2 was riding the exercise bike while watching a DVD of some triathlon, his jaw set with determination. I hoped he wouldn’t overdo it. He’d been dormant for weeks and may not have his usual strength.

There was an email from Specimen 3 in my inbox I had seen on my BlackBerry earlier and preferred to respond to with the ease of a computer keyboard at my leisure.

When I opened the email, I saw that she was online that very minute, so I clicked over to chat with her.

We both had our webcams on and it was a pleasant surprise to see her face once more. Her green eyes were vibrant, even through the webcam technology, her lips freshly painted, her skin reflecting the lamps that shone on her in her bedroom. Behind her was her bed, a simple queen with a girly flowery bedspread and very ordinary wooden headboard. There appeared to be a boxy dresser in the background and not much else in the tiny room.

“When are you coming to see me?” I asked her through Skype.

“I don’t know,” she said. She smiled coyly at me and tossed her chemically straightened, dyed-blonde hair. The heart shape of her face was still breathtaking. I grinned back, touching my neck with a long, slender finger.

“You need to come soon. I want to wine and dine you,” I said. “Don’t you want to be pampered?”

She giggled and waved her hand.

“Who doesn’t want to be pampered? By the way, I want to thank you again for the MP3 earpiece. I love it.” She held it up to the camera. “I wear it all the time.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Here, I found another song for you.” I clicked the Messenger icon and sent her two more MP3s that I had specifically programmed for her. I hoped she truly was listening to them but, even now, just in chatting with me, I was transmitting subliminal coding to her unconscious mind through the computers. It was a technique I’d not yet perfected as, of course, studies and theories about brain-computer communication and restructuring of pathways vary vastly between scientist, computer technology and psychiatry. Can it be done? We all agree it can. But to what extent, how long does it take, how long does it last?

What was happening to her now was related to my voice patterning. Imprinting my voice with sensations of want and desire, of need and pleasure. Her brain is learning that when she hears my voice, pleasant sensations will occur in her body.

“Hey, this looks cool.” I could see her hooking her MP3 player to the computer portal, or at least she was reaching as if that was what she was doing. She played the song loud enough that I could hear it.

Her beauty glowed from the screen in a translucent gleam. It was magnificent to view.

She was perfection, even in an imperfect telecast. Between the flickering phosphors there lay the beauty of the universe, emanating one pixel at a time, a charisma few others contain.

“It’s one of my favorite songs right now,” I said. “It reminds me of you.”

“You’re so sweet.” She giggled.

“So when is it you’re coming to see me?” I asked again more earnestly.

“It’s just that I’m looking for work. I have to be here, ready, for when a job comes.”

“Why don’t you look for work here? That’s what brought you here last time, wasn’t it?”

She laughed.

“Sort of.”

I nodded.

“So that man was the one who brought you here? The one you were with that night. Was it an acting gig?”

“Of sorts.”

“Ah…” I nodded. “So what would it cost for you to come and see me for a week? Airfare and all.”

“I-I… Well, ten grand,” she said, suddenly more businesslike than I’d ever seen her. For a moment, it disturbed me, this sudden harshness from this fair creature, yet the lightning that sparked her into life quickened my desire. This fetching cherub beckoned to me, my only payment mere money to buy the time to bask in her splendor. In staring at her smooth chocolate cheeks and bright, almond-shaped eyes, I would pledge more than mere money. A soul could be but a mere pittance of an exchange if only to share breath with an angel.

“Ten grand, eh?” I said. I leaned back in my chair, my bathrobe sliding open under my fingertips until my breasts were nearly completely exposed. I ran my hands lightly across my chest.

“Ten grand…” I murmured. Her lip had a bit of a sneer before her face softened into angelic beauty once more. She sat back in her chair so that I could see the round mounds of her breasts heaved up over the purple lace of her underwired bra.

“So all I have to do is give you ten grand and you’ll come to see me?” I asked. I tapped my lips with my long, painted nails.

“Yes.” She smiled as she traced the swells of her cleavage with the MP3 player that she’d unplugged from the computer.

“Interac transfer okay?”

She frowned and sat up.

“Oh no, it has to be cash. I’ll come there on my own devices and you pay me cash when I arrive. No paper trails.”

I laughed. Oh, she thought she was one clever cookie.

“A one-way ticket, right?” I said, never losing my cool as my fingers danced around my chest, pulling at the sides of the velvet robe.

“Of course. I’m not paying for a round trip.”

I squeezed my breasts together.

“You won’t have to pay for a thing, my dear,” I said.

She rubbed her breasts for a moment, but it was clear her attention was on other chat windows as well. I watched her eyes stare at first one area of the screen and then another, suddenly her fingers were clicking the keys, but no messages arrived for me. After watching her for a moment, I grew impatient.

“Book your ticket and email me the details,” I said. She jolted at the sound of my voice, as if she’d forgotten me already. She looked into the camera and winked.

“I will, honey. I have a few details to attend to before I can leave town.” She made a valiant effort to keep her eyes from wavering to the other chat windows but in the end the chat window on the lower right-hand side of the screen won the wager.

“Do what you have to,” I said as she typed something to someone, somewhere.

“I will, honey.” She waved with one hand, while the other one typed.

“Good night.” I clicked her away.

My excitement was boundless. How magnificent it was going to be to add the beauty to my growing family.

Journal

My observations are aligned with most of the theories I’d speculated about going into this experiment. The fine tuning took much longer than anticipated although this time there was the time, space and resources to indulge in fine tuning, instead of aborting the experiment. Now that the men are regulated we’ve begun to establish a normal life and routines.

Each specimen has his own zone and each has everything he needs or desires. To feed each man’s ego, his cave is filled with citations of his accomplishments and photographs of winning awards and trophies. Both of my specimens excel in their fields, with their fields being very different from each other, so there is no need to worry about battling egos. I don’t doubt that Specimen 1 considers Specimen 2 beneath him intellectually, while Specimen 2 understands that Specimen 1 has no desire to run marathons or lift weights.

Each specimen has a daily dose of “music” either piped into his apartment or through his headset should he listen to one of his music devices. This daily dose of music is key to their programming.

Each specimen has total freedom to explore the subject of his pursuit. Specimen 1 writes and drinks and smokes all day. He enjoys reading and watching TV.

Specimen 2 works out and receives a special diet six times a day. He watches TV a lot. Usually sports.

The hallway that connects their rooms is left open. They will sometimes visit each other during the course of a day, but it’s not usual.

Routine works well for everyone. Around ten, when my schedule allows, the three of us watch TV together on one of their couches. I’m always the instigator. I’ll kiss one and then the other. I’ll touch them both, rubbing my hands along their inner thighs while we watch TV and neck. Before long, hands are touching flesh, clothes are torn away and we become a triad of writhing, sweaty flesh. The boys both pleasure me, taking turns, sometimes both at once. Their eagerness to please ignites my desire, their seasoned touches fan the flames of ecstasy.
 

Though I enjoy their pleasure greedily, I always take care of theirs as well. Each specimen has to be treated fairly and equally. A man can’t feel threatened or inadequate, or the triad won’t work. His needs must be observed and then satisfied. A satisfied man can focus on his work and excel in his field, which in turn creates a healthy self-esteem and healthy sex drive.