A Battle of Minds Ch. 03

The young shop clerk needed a few moments to even understand that he was speaking to her, and she needed yet longer to close her mouth and start putting the cake Martin had ordered onto paper plates. Once she was done with that, she wrapped it in colorful paper with the bakery's name and the words "fresh and tasty -- only the best at our bakery" printed onto it. After handing Martin the cake, she then fumbled with the cash register for quite a while. Her voice slightly shaky, she finally named the amount that was shown in brightly green numbers on the cash register's display:

"Two fifty."

Martin did not react. For a very short moment, it was completely and utterly silent in the small bakery, as the shop clerk waited for her money, and Martin stared down onto his feet, as if concentrating on some thought that had wandered into his mind. Then, Mrs. Meyer opened her mouth.

"Put it on my bill," she said. "The boy definitely deserves some cake after what he has gone through."

The shop clerk shrugged -- she did not care who she got the money from, as long as someone paid the cake. Miraculous awakening or not, she was most certainly not paying for it out of her own wages. If that old hag Mrs. Meyer found it worth a few Marks to have another story to tell, however, good for her.

Martin took the wrapped packages of cake and turned around without a single word of thanks. He did not even seem surprised at Mrs. Meyer's kindness. His expression was as bored as ever. The little bell above the bakery's door rang as he opened the door and then shut it behind him. Then it was quiet again in the little shop.

***

Laura struggled against the handcuffs a few times, even though she knew it was in vain. She couldn't get them off her hands; of course not. Those were real handcuffs; after all she was at a police station here. Wriggling and trying to pull her arms away from her back was little use. Just as her attempt at defending herself had been little use when the policemen bound her hands. She had scratched and bitten them, but they were much stronger than her, and never seemed to even notice her attempts to injure them. Effortlessly they pulled her arms behind her back, and cuffed her to the chair on which she was sitting.

The whole time, none of the four policemen uttered a word. Their unfocussed eyes confirmed Laura's suspicions: They were not themselves, not in their right mind. Nothing they did was out of their own free will. And for her, this meant that any resistance, as well as any attempt to reason with them, was useless. They would just go on doing whatever they had been ordered to do.

But why? Mr. Seger wanted to get rid of her, he was scared of her; that much Laura could deduct from the events of the last week. And he had succeeded, the way things seemed, she would spend more than a few years in prison. Wasn't that enough? Why did he have to go on torturing her?

She was yanked out of her musings, as she felt hands grip tightly around her breasts. Her uncle, the police chief, was standing in front of Laura, leaning towards her, cupping each of the soft globes with one of his hands, kneading them roughly. When she looked up, Laura could see right into his face. Even though he was looking back at her, his eyes seemed not to be focusing on the girl. Rather, they were staring into some unknown distance, not seeing what was right in front of him. Police chief Rombach's mouth stood open, a tiny bit of drool had appeared in one of its corners. Still, though he was not aware of what was going on, it seemed to affect him physically. Laura could hear her uncle's breath getting heavier.

Then one of his hands let go of her breast, instead cupping Laura's chin and turning her face closer towards his own with a slow but irresistible movement. Laura saw his lips approach her mouth. Underneath the thick moustache they seemed swollen and bulgy. Uncle Stefan's moustache -- Laura suddenly remembered teasing him about it a few years ago, when he first grew it. A moustache is only for old men, she used to say. The uncle's mouth by now was so close that she could not see it clearly anymore. Instead, she felt his breath on her face, smelled him.

A wave of disgust welled up inside Laura, and panicking she tried to turn away, to remove her face from his aim, to avoid the unavoidable. The firm grip on her chin tightened. Laura closed her eyes in resignation, as the pain forced her to open her mouth. Then, Uncle Stefan's lips touched hers. They were surprisingly soft and moist, and his tongue, a slimy muscle, like a slug, snaked its way past her lips. Unrelenting it searched out every corner of her mouth, ran along her teeth, swirled around and pushed aside her own tongue, forced its way towards her throat. Then Uncle Stefan's tongue retreated, and instead he sucked her tongue into his own mouth, the iron grip of his hand continuously around her chin, the other hand still on her breast, he forced her to obey. Laura believed to taste something familiar, like fried potatoes, eggs and beer maybe, when her uncle's saliva filled her mouth and ran down her throat. She felt sick.

One of the other policemen approached Laura from the back, and suddenly she felt her handcuffs being opened. Before she could enjoy that newly won freedom, however, and maybe push her uncle away, Uncle Stefan let go of her other breast and grabbed one of her hands instead, yanking it forwards. Laura's hand was pressed against the coarse material of his trousers and the cold metal of the buckle of his belt. Underneath the textile, she could feel something warm reacting to her touch -- twitching slightly, and growing. She wanted to pull away her hand, but her uncle had his hand on top of hers, pressing it mercilessly against his manhood, forcing her to rub it through the fabric of his trousers in slow circling movements.

Then, finally, he let go of her hand, and the grip around her chin loosened as well. The slug-like tongue withdrew from her mouth. Police chief Rombach straightened up, stood tall in front of his niece, looking down at her. Laura opened her eyes, tears were stinging in them, and the skin around her mouth felt sticky and irritated.

Laura's voice was hoarse as she spat out the words that she seemed to have been shouting inside her head throughout the whole ordeal -- she was not speaking to her uncle or the other policemen, but to someone who had to be somewhere out there, maybe even far away, but she was sure he would be able to hear her, somehow, even if she whispered. So she shouted not so much for the sake of being heard, but for the benefit of relieving her own frustration:

"Why? What have I done to you, Mr. Seger?"

She did not receive an answer, she had not expected one either. Instead of Mr. Seger, her uncle spoke to her again. His features were distorted as he looked down on her. In fact, the scornful look he wore made it seem more like it was her former teacher speaking to her, than her uncle. Even his voice sounded different: hard and unfriendly.

"Come on Laura, don't make such a fuss. After all you have fucked half your school, so what speaks against us having a little fun with you too?"

***

Mrs. Meyer couldn't take the silence in the shop for long; it was not in her nature just to stand around with an open mouth. For a few minutes, she had joined the shop clerk in staring through the window onto the empty road, after Martin had disappeared around a corner. In the end, though, she broke the silence.

"I wonder why they allowed him to leave the hospital right away, after just waking up. I mean, looking at him you could barely tell that he had been in a coma for such a long time, he looked fine to me. But isn't it dangerous? Doesn't he have to be monitored or something? But that's what it's like these days. It costs money to keep people in hospitals, so they get kicked out as soon as they can stand on their own legs..."

The young shop clerk kept staring out at the street that Martin had crossed a few minutes earlier. For a while, she let Mrs. Meyer just talk, barely listening to her words. When she finally replied, her voice sounded almost dreamy.

"Maybe he asked them to let him leave the hospital against the doctor's advice? I think you can do that. I think to do that you just have to sign something that it is on your own responsibility. That's what I've seen on TV anyway, in all those hospital shows..."

"Either way, it is a miracle. He looked completely cured."

Now it was Mrs. Meyer who checked her watch.

"Oh no, did you see the time? It's quite late already. Time just passes too quickly when you have so many interesting things to discuss, doesn't it? But now I really have to go."

Mrs. Meyer packed her shopping into a colorful shopping bag that she always carried with her, commanded Fifi to follow her, and left the bakery. The young shop clerk remained on her spot, unmoving. Two customers at the same time, at this time of day, was more than the little bakery usually saw, she was sure that now it would take more than a bit before she would have to do anything again. Dreamily the young women kept staring out the window; her eyes followed Mrs. Meyer as she crossed the street. The old woman was walking surprisingly fast. Soon she turned into the same little side street that Martin had disappeared into earlier.

***

Laura knelt on the ground; her hands cuffed behind her back again. Her uncle was standing next to her; just a few moments earlier he had pushed her off her chair, so she had fallen onto the ground, and then forced her into this position. His hand was lying on top of her head, heavy and unmoving, by its mere presence preventing her from standing up. Laura's face was turned downwards; in front of her eyes the patterns on the linoleum floor became blurry. Her lower lip was trembling a little bit; otherwise she was completely motionless as she waited for what was now to follow.

Police chief Rombach gave the other police officers a sign. He did not say a word, however, and the others were silent too. In reaction to Rombach's sign, one of the police men stepped closer to the chair Laura was sitting on. It was the same short, moustached man who had taken off her shirt. He was maybe fifty years of age, and quite visibly exceeded his ideal body weight. Laura had always known him as a friendly, relaxed person. When she was a little girl, he had some sweets for her, whenever she visited her uncle at work. Of course, this was because his desk drawer was full of chocolates at any time, not just before her visits -- but he had always shared with his boss' little niece.

Laura kept staring at the ground, pretending the policeman wasn't standing right in front of her, blocking her vision to anywhere else. He was much too close to her for comfort, and Laura believed to make out a slight smell of sweat. Then, while she was still looking down, she heard the sound of fingers on fabric, and then of a zipper being pulled down. She did not want to see it, she did not want to know, but his feet were right there, at the dirty little patch of linoleum floor she was staring at, and a moment later that floor was covered with his trousers, as he had pushed them down. She still refused to look up, until a sharp pain tore through her scalp. Her uncle had grabbed a fistful of her hair, to force her to turn up her face. His grip was so tight; she would not be surprised if he pulled out half her hair.

Through eyelashes that hung heavy with her tears, she could make out the police man's half-erect cock. Police chief Rombach's hand remained on her head, heavy, his fingers entangled into her hair, like a threat: Should she dare to turn her face away, the pain in her scalp would return.

She tried anyway, when the overweight police officer took his dick into his hand, drawing back the foreskin and approaching its shiny head, on which there sat a few sparkling drops of precum, to Laura's mouth. Just before he could touch her lips, rub the sticky liquid onto her skin, she jerked her head to the side and tried to stand up quickly, hoping against hope that she might be able to flee. There had to be people somewhere out there that weren't under Mr. Seger's control.

"Help me! Please! Help me", Laura cried as loud as her voice allowed -- until her uncle mercilessly pulled at her hair with such strength, that she feared he might now indeed pull it out. The searing pain in her skull disturbed the coherence of her words, and all she could utter was a loud moan.

A loud clicking sound caught Laura's attention immediately, cutting off her screams. One hand still in her hair, Uncle Stefan was holding his gun in the other, pointing it directly at Laura's temple. He still remained silent. Now that Laura had ceased her screams there was no sound to be heard. Silently, the police chief tugged at her hair, making his niece turn her head back to the other police man's crotch. He followed the movement with his gun, Laura felt the cold metal touch her skin lightly, while her uncle's fingers seemed to cut into her skull.

The police officer in front of Laura had one of his hands wrapped around his dick, with the other hand he now cupped Laura's chin to guide her face exactly to where he wanted it. Slowly, he rubbed the swollen tip of his cock over her lips. Laura could taste the salty bitterness of the sticky drops of his precum on her mouth. Her eyes fell onto the dark, curly pubic hair of the police man, and onto the hairy curve of his belly. The big bulb was only halfway covered by his police shirt and seemed to linger threateningly over her face. She had to close her eyes, Laura realized, if she wanted to keep from panicking again. It was better not to see him.

Then the police officer spoke. Laura had chatted with him more than once, and though she was not as familiar with his voice as with Uncle Stefan's, she could tell that this was not his normal manner of speaking either. Not only the words themselves, which did not befit this usually soft-spoken man, but his manner of pronouncing them. There was a harsh sound to his voice that made her wince before she could even take in what he said.

"Open your fucking mouth, slut. You have shown your whole school what a little whore you are, so you can show us now, too."

Again, cold metal touched Laura's temple, reminding her of the presence of the gun. Mr. Seger was not here, he would not have to see her die, would not have to pull the trigger himself. Laura knew he would not hesitate to give the order. And despite everything, she did not want to die.

Slowly, fighting against her inner resistance, against all her instincts, Laura opened her mouth. She moved her tongue once over her lips and could distinguish more clearly the salty taste of the policeman's precum. It tasted strangely familiar, even though she did not remember ever tasting anything like that before. Suppressing another wave of disgust, Laura forced herself not to move away, to move her tongue further out of her mouth, until it came into contact with the smooth skin of the man's cock, and to slowly lick another drop of precum from its head.

Somewhere above Laura a low moan seemed to fill the room, amplified by the silence of the other men. The police officer put his hands on Laura's head. As her uncle let go of her hair, he entangled his own fingers into the long red curls, so she was unable to avoid his cock that he pushed in between her lips. However, due to the looming threat of the gun pointed at her, Laura did not even consider resistance any more. Instead, she opened her mouth willingly.

With slow but determined movements, the police officer relentlessly pushed his cock into Laura's mouth again and again, pushing in deeper every time, until he reached the girl's throat. A few times she thought she would suffocate as she struggled against the gag reflex. At those moments, Laura forgot about the gun. The instincts that told her to fight back, to turn away from this man, got the better of her -- but then the hand tightened its grip on her hair, twisting it a little. The tearing pain reminded her of her place. She could not get away.

"Your tongue! I can't feel your tongue, bitch!"

As she felt the his hand once again twisting her hair painfully, Laura started running her tongue up and down the police officer's cock quickly. To her relief, the grip loosened slightly. For a few moments he even stopped pulling at her hair altogether. Instead, he just enjoyed the feeling of Laura's tongue, working eagerly up and down the shaft. Though she still felt sick to her stomach, the girl was now more concerned with keeping him from hurting her, and she knew this was the only way. If she would give him all she got, she thought, maybe he would finish quickly, and then, maybe, the police men... or rather, Mr. Seger... would let her go.

She heard the police man moan again, while she let her tongue dance along his cock. Then she took his manhood as deeply into her mouth as was possible for her. His pubic hair tickled her nose. Laura could sense the smell of his sex, and to her surprise she did not find it as repulsive as she had a few moments ago -- in fact, while she had never done anything like this while being conscious, it all seemed familiar to her. Instinctively she knew what to do, how to best get this man off. Her body remembered what it had done so many other times, under Mr. Seger's control.

Then Laura felt a movement behind her. Someone touched her legs: A third police officer had stepped to her, apparently following a sign made by her uncle, who was still pointing the gun at her head.

The hands of that third policeman were now pushing their way in between her legs, prying them apart. At first he was stroking up and down her inner thighs, carefully, almost tenderly, but bit by bit the fingers approached Laura's sex. When she felt the first contact of the man's fingertips with her labia, Laura tried to move away, but the fingers unrelentingly followed her movement. She forgot to concentrate on the job in front of her, and within seconds the grip on her hair tightened again, and her head was pushed down deeper onto the second police man's cock. At the same time, Uncle Stefan was leaning forward, Laura felt his breath touch her ear, and heard his voice, very quietly, but with a tone that sent chills up her spine:

"If you want to get out of this alive you better let him do what he wants."

Laura was trembling, but she obeyed. The fat police officer in front of her started moving his hips, thrusting his cock again and again into Laura's throat, deep enough to make her gag. At the same time, the other man forced a finger into her sex -- she was dry enough to make this not an easy task, but he did not seem to care. As he slowly moved his finger in and out of her womanhood, he started kneading her behind with his other hand. The motion of the finger got easier, as her body automatically started producing some of the liquids needed to make this less painful. As her body reacted, a new sensation rose somewhere deep inside of Laura, despite all her fear and shame and disgust. A feeling that Laura barely knew but recognized immediately. And immediately she tried to push this emotion back down; she did not want to feel like this, she did not want to be aroused by what Mr. Seger made these men do. She just wanted it to be over soon, so she could leave -- even if she did not know what would follow, what else Mr. Seger had planned for her. After all, it could not get much worse than this.

Again and again the policeman forced his finger into Laura, soon adding a second one. Laura was unable to resist the effect this assault had on her body: A strange mixture of pain and -- she could not deny it -- arousal, surged into her, and it was all she could do not to moan loudly, whether of pleasure, or of pain. She remained silent, however. Even though she knew that the policemen did not consciously realize any of what they were doing, she did not want to give them the satisfaction of hearing her voice.