Captured Souls (5 page)

He poured himself a glass of scotch and was pleasantly surprised to see ice in the ice bucket when he opened the lid. He looked around the room and it appears he spotted the camera. He stared right into the camera and raising his glass, mouthed the words
thank
you
.

It can’t hurt for him to know he’s being watched, I guess. He’s not exactly a pushover.

But at bedtime, I administered his medication and put him back into his shackles and ball gag.

He seems a bit frazzled, a bit out of sorts, but I think once he’s spent a couple of days writing and escaping into his dreamworlds, he’ll feel better.

Specimen 1

He likes his new office. He sits there day after day, working on his book and playing on Facebook.

Well, he thinks he’s on Facebook. He’s really inside a shell that replicates Facebook, but he’s actually interacting with bots. I control everything that goes on in his Facebook world. He can chat with whomever he desires because in the end, it’s just me and my bots. Any plans to escape or cheat would be easily thwarted.

On Facebook, he believes he will see his lover once more. They have been making secret plans. Except, he’s been making plans with me.

In all honesty, his notes to ladylove have become less frequent and leaning towards complacency. He’s focusing more on his new book and less on networking as his first deadline draws near.

His complacency towards ladylove and his growing dependence on me are partly accomplished by the implants. I’ve nearly weaned him from the serums, now it will be just an electrical matter.

When he’s not writing to his heart’s content, he’s fucking my brains out on his king-sized bed in the basement apartment I furnished for him. The more he writes, the better the sex. That’s something I hadn’t anticipated and is a lovely side effect.

Specimen 1

There came a point where I began to take him out in public.

It began very carefully one day. He was shackled to the bed. I had ratcheted the chains tightly so that his hands were above his head. Not painfully so, but enough. His legs were tight, not a hope he could move a muscle. I couldn’t have him flinching.

“You’re getting very pale, my darling. You need some vitamin D. Sunshine,” I told him.

He couldn’t answer with the ball gag firmly in place. I didn’t want his chatter to distract from the seriousness of this next step.

“I want to take you out, but you must always wear this.”

He turned his head to watch me go to one of his dresser drawers and produce a type of male chastity belt. I slid the leather strap under his hips. I had it designed so that it buckled at the sides, not at the back. I slipped his cock through a metal hole then tightened it with a spring-action hook.

“Now, none of this should actually hurt at all. Am I right?”

He shifted his hips around and nodded in agreement that he didn’t feel any pain.

“However, you try to say anything to anyone or make any false moves and something like this will happen.”

I retrieved a remote control from one of the metal trays. I turned it to a very low level. His eyes widened and then he relaxed as he began to fall into the lull of a soothing buzz around his scrotum.

“You feel that? Good. Remember, I can make that buzzing feel really good for you, as it does on the lowest level, or I can turn the dial up to ten where your skin will actually burn and your testicles will cook within one minute. Do we understand each other?”

He nodded.

I turned the vibrations off and put the remote in my pocket. Unknown to him, I had a keypad implanted in the bracelet that I wore. It contained programming not only for the belt but for all of his implants as well. He could explode into one big gooey mess should he try to escape. It was enough to threaten him with his balls cooking.

Our first outing was to a grocery store and all went well. He behaved beautifully, being very polite to strangers and patient with the whole shopping experience.

Our second outing was to a pub. That went very well too. There came a point where I even brought him to faculty parties. He never left my side, his eyes never strayed to another woman and he never made signals for help.

This was good.

I took him to one of my boring faculty cocktail parties. This one was to honor a scientist who was working with monkeys and THC. Specimen 1 behaved beautifully. He even seemed to thrive under the recognition he received from admirers of his books and the lecture he had given that day so long ago.

“Dr. Miriam, we rarely see you at these anymore,” Dr. Williams, the crusty old chairman of the board said to me while eyeing Specimen 1.

“I’ve been quite busy with my experiments and, of course, showing Mr. Gravenhurst the wonderful sights and delights of our city.”

“So it would seem. You are looking well, so you’re obviously doing something right,” he quipped as he wandered off to the next guest.

I’m satisfied this experiment is going well.

Specimen 1

His accent sends shivers of delight through me, the way his foreign tongue twists words brings even one of my dry medical textbooks alive. I’ve declared that every now and again he’ll read me some of his works in progress. I sit back on his king-sized bed while he sits naked at my feet, reading a few pages from his latest creepy creations. The lilt of his voice, the way he pronounces his words, the look of concentration on his handsome face while he reads his work to me—all make me wet with gleeful anticipation.

I’ve grown to trust Specimen 1. He has settled into his life with me, takes orders and is compliant. Even his Facebook messages to his lady friend have stopped. He wrote to her to tell her he’s not coming back, that he’s happy working on his books in lavish surroundings.

Specimen 1 doesn’t need to be shackled anymore.

Of course, the house is on lockdown, there is no way for him to escape or even contact the outside world.

He can sleep freely in his bed now, with no chains, no ball gag to hinder his rest. He wakes when he desires and sleeps when he desires.

He is adjusting perfectly.

Specimen 3

When I went to the sex club last night with Specimen 1, I asked about her, the goddess. Surprisingly, the doorman gave me her email address.
 

Today I emailed her and after we went back and forth a couple of times, I told her I wanted to send her a present. She sent me an address.
 

I packaged up a state-of-the-art MP3 player that looks like an earring and is clipped to the ear. There are actually two of them that look like pretty rhinestones but also provide surround sound between them.

I hope she enjoys her present.

Specimen 1

My calculations were way off. I weaned him from the serums too quickly and too soon. I was premature in granting him so much freedom. I was nearly defeated by my own enthusiasm.

I was sleeping in my own bedroom on the second floor when the door creaked open. The sound startled me awake, and, more so, I was knocked off guard when a pillow was slammed down on my face.

It took a moment for me to register what was going on. But once I shook off the slippery tendrils of dreams and faced my reality, I was ready. My gym training at work once more, I lurched into a flip, knocking the intruder back. He stumbled, fell over a chair, and then scrambled to his feet as I stood in a classic fighting stance on top of my bed.

“Who is it?” I called out. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, I saw him on the other side of the room, panting heavily, a solid figure in the shadows. He rubbed his arms, clearly surprised at my strength.

“Why are you keeping me here?” Specimen 1 asked.

“I’m not keeping you here,” I said, not letting my stance drop.

“Yes, you’re keeping me a prisoner. The doors are locked. The phones don’t work. Even the Internet isn’t the Internet.”

“My, you’ve been busy in your explorations.”

“What do you expect, Miriam? I want to go home.”

The words were like a punch to my stomach. I crawled down from the bed and stood by my nightstand. I had ready-to-use hypodermic needles in there should it become necessary.

“Aren’t you happy here?” I asked. “I give you everything.”

“No you don’t. You don’t give me freedom. I’m locked in this torture chamber like something out of a Jack Ketchum novel, with my dick trussed up like a turkey if you dare let me accompany you somewhere.”

“It’s not like that at all, Scott. You’re just tired and overreacting.”

“You kept me in chains like a monster. I’m just a writer. What do you want with me?”

“I think you have an overactive imagination. I’m enjoying you as my houseguest. Don’t I give you everything you desire?”

“I desire to go home. I have a deadline.”

“You’ve been writing. I’ve seen you.”

“But I need my notes and the other work I’ve written. I don’t want to write from scratch the bits I’ve already completed. And I only have a few months left to hit my deadline.”

“What notes do you need? Don’t you have them with you?”

“I…”

“Don’t lie to me, Scott. I can tell when you’re lying.” I was brave to speak to him like that. Certainly I could surmise by his body language, but in the darkness the other cues were not as obvious as they are in the daylight.

He stood, wavering, his shadow already resigned to his fate. I slipped on my bracelet that controlled the implants just in case I needed to use it. With my back to him, I eked open the nightstand table so that my weapons were ready.

“Okay, you’re right. I brought my flash drive of notes with me.”

“See? I knew you were too clever to travel without all you need.”

I grinned in the darkness. I relaxed my stance and sat down on the bed. I patted it.

“Let’s not fight, Scott. I didn’t bring you here to fight with me.”

As he approached me, his eyes caught the glint of distant light and their sparkle caught me off guard. A flash of blue in the darkness was startling. He sat beside me and I reached for him. We kissed and though I wanted to melt into his arms, my senses were on high alert.

His kisses grew rough and he wrestled me onto my back. His hands slipped around my neck, attempting to press his thumbs against my windpipe.

I made a note in my head to adjust the frequencies to reflect his genetic anger issues so that he couldn’t be violent with his outbursts anymore.

Again those gym kickboxing classes paid off as I snapped his arms from me with my hands and kicked him away with my feet. Springing from the bed, he followed, his breath loud with the chase. I circled the room, him jumping from bed to chair to stalk me. I backed against my nightstand, my fingers slipping inside to grab one of the glass tubes. As he lunged towards me, I stuck the hypodermic needle into his chest. He flailed with me for a second or two, growing weaker as the drug ran through him.

“Bitch…” he spat as he collapsed onto the floor.

As I dragged him back to the lab, wrapping him in a blanket and padding his head with a pillow so as not to damage his beautiful brain, I mused over the fact that he came to kill me, instead of just escaping when I wasn’t looking. Certainly, he could escape if he truly wanted to. There must be something I’d forgotten to close or lock in my fortress—there’s always a fatal flaw. Especially in the daytime, when I often left the house without him. I found it most curious and wondered if it might be because the implant was working in the sense that he had desire for me, but it was a desire to kill me, not to copulate with me. I have to examine my notes and calculations before I can make the adjustments.

Journal

The overall process is going quite well. Preparations are constant as circumstances mutate.

I had to restrain Specimen 1 for another week. Completely under, with only his headset to listen to. No writing for him. He’ll be starving for his muse and for sex when he finally wakens. And hopefully, by then, I’ll have finished working the bugs out of the levels.

Specimen 1

At last, Specimen 1 is finally ready. One last trial run in his contained setting, and he appears to be fine. His lust for me overwhelmed him upon his awakening and it didn’t take much coaxing on his part to entice me into his arms.

He was as powerful and wonderful as he had been before, with a new sense of urgency and pleasure.

He was much more docile in his manner. He even allowed me to put his chastity belt on without restraints.

“I understand my role now,” he said, hanging his head as I fastened the heavy buckles to his thin hips. “I won’t disappoint you this time, Doctor.”

A wry grin touched my lips but I didn’t let him see it. I was firm in my handling of him, he needed to know who the real master was and it wasn’t him.