The Girl Ch. 5

The tone of his voice cut her like a knife in her heart. She shared Johnathan's DNA, and therefore knew what he was like. He was loving and caring and kind. Why was he hurting her? Why was he being cruel to her? Shouldn't he care about how she felt? Everything began to feel wrong, but she had no idea what to do, except what she was told. She began sucking his somewhat smallish cock, wondering if she had done something wrong.

In her mind's eye, she somehow knew Johnathan did not have brown pubic hair. She somehow knew that each time her nose was thrust into his hair, he did not smell of Johnathan. She somehow knew that Johnathan was significantly bigger than this... it was all wrong! The feeling of wrongness pervaded her. It scared her. She had no point of reference upon which to build her understanding of the world around her. All her programmed memories, all her DNA-based awareness, everything she was made to know to fit Johnathan perfectly, was not meshing with her current reality. Her fear grew, and when she lost focus and stopped bobbing her head, letting her teeth touch his cock out of that fear, she promptly received a sharp smack to her head.

"Suck it right, dammit! Do it!" he growled. "You know better than that!" There was another smack to her head, and she began to cry at the confusion, the fear, the feeling of being lost and the hurt that came from seeing that he did not treat her in the loving way he was supposed to. She was built to rely on that loving response for her sense of well being.

She knew that above all, she must please her Johnathan, so she fought hard to suck him right in spite of everything that screamed something was very wrong. She covered her teeth with her full coral lips and used her tongue on the underside as she slowed down to make the sensation more intense. Her tears were hot and filled her eyes, which she closed against her pain, hoping that somehow, it would go away. It did not, but she continued on as best she could. Her overriding objective, at all costs, was to please her owner. That was her reason for existing.

He grew hard in her mouth, and she had to purse her lips to keep the seal around his cock. It was short and slender. It was nothing like what it should be, according to the DNA screaming its memories in her brain. Johnathan's own DNA, with which she had been made and partially programmed. Her map for everything about him. Currently, her only guide in the world...

He grabbed her head and began forcibly pumping into her mouth, enjoying it immensely.

"Oh, hell yeah, little bitch! Suck daddy's cock. That's a good little redhead fuckslut. God I love redheads."

She allowed him to pump, hoping against hope that she was pleasing her owner, trying her best to make him happy. Her knees hurt rhythmically with each thrust as he pumped into her mouth while holding her long, incredibly red hair in his fists on either side of her head. He groaned and said words she'd never heard, and moaned some more. This vaguely matched the response she was supposed to have gotten from Johnathan, so she was fairly certain that she was pleasing him, but at the same time it was still all wrong! The fear and dread in her heart continued to grow. Her tears slid down her cheek, tickling as they traveled, and made tiny inaudible plops on the small white tiles of the bathroom floor where they landed.

"Oh, that's so good, so good, mmmm ... but now it's time for Position X, whore. Get into Position X."

She winced as he called her a whore. Johnathan was not supposed to be calling her that! It cut her feelings each time he called her those things. She slid his dick out of her mouth, stood up, turned around and bent over, repeating the position she had been put into earlier exactly.

"Good whore, good whore. Now I'm going to give you what you need," he said, sliding up behind her. His erect cock had not been long enough to choke her while she took him to the hilt in her mouth. It had been hitting the back of her throat, but that was all. Now, he spread her legs a bit more, and then her butt cheeks. Momentarily, he ran a finger around her little unused anus, and then abandoned it as he moved to insert himself into her newly formed virgin pussy.

Then, he guided his stiffness to her sexual opening, and with his hands spread it apart a little to ease entry. He saw that she was still dry inside.

"Aren't you supposed to be wet and ready, bitch?" he yelled, as he smacked her ass hard. She yelped, stung on the ass and in her heart.

"Get it wet! NOW!" he demanded, smacking her ass again, hard. She yelped in pain once again.

Incapable of denying her owner his commands, her body instantly began pumping out pussy wet, and within seconds, she was drooling from it.

"That's better, you stupid whore."

He applied his cock head to her, and her hymen blocked his path.

"I always enjoy breaking in the new recruits," he sighed to himself as with a sigh certain thrust, he pierced her and sent a sharp dagger of pain through her entire being.

Johnathan was numb with shock, as his own eyes took over his visual experience once again. It took a few seconds for him to recover enough to look down at Desiree again. Her eyes were open, her tears flowing steadily, silently, and her hand was still twitching, as was her cheek. He knew she was in emotional overload, reliving these experiences. It was overwhelming to them both, and he could feel the great emotional wound it had caused her. A sensation that made him think of his own soul bleeding steadily washed off of her and took him in waves. And just after he had the chance to wonder why meeting with Woolsey should have made this all come to the forefront of her memory, she flashed back again and again overtook his mind with it.

Desiree was wearing the paper gown again. She was again being lead down the hall, away from the bathroom this time, further down the hall than she had ever been. She had a headache from being hit so much on the head, and a patch of hair was burning from having been pulled so hard. Her feet protested at the cold floor with each step, but that was drowned out by her knees, and that by her still-bleeding sex. She felt the blood mingling with oozing semen dripping out of her and sometimes running down her leg, sometimes splattering on the floor instead. What hurt most of all was her heart. She held herself trying to protect herself from this nightmare that was not going away. Her crying blinded her, but he dragged her along anyway.

"Now remember Position X, slut. When we get you upstairs, we are going to have you get in Position X and everyone else is going to have their way," he said as he dragged her into an elevator.

Everyone else? No! Johnathan would never share his lover with anyone else like this! This couldn't be!

Then it hit her, tentatively at first, but finally with more certainly: This was not Johnathan! And if it was not Johnathan, she had just done exactly the opposite of what would please him! She had displeased her owner, and that was against everything she had been programmed with. She felt her emotional agony redouble, her heart breaking.

"Nooooo!" she wailed, through her tears, as she tried to break away from him, but he jerked her back to his side. There was nowhere to go anyway, as the elevator was in motion. Her sobbing grew louder as she felt another rivulet of fluid escape her sex and tickle her leg on the way down. She staggered as her legs began to give out from under her, and then fell to her knees, which slammed into the hard flat floor, and showered pain through her.

"You're not Johnathan!" she shrieked. "You're not Johnathan!"

He laughed cruelly.

"You're a smart whore. But it doesn't matter. I made you, and I can do whatever I want with you. And I don't get my bonus unless you fuck my boss and his buddies, now do I? So you're going to fuck them, and fuck them all good, and you're going to like it. Do I make myself clear?"

It was all too much. She tried to crumple further to the floor, but his surprisingly strong grip yanked her upright.

"Stand up! You're pathetic, and the sooner I'm done with this, the sooner I never have to see your ugly ass again."

The words cut deeper and deeper, and the blood from her soul poured yet more freely. Johnathan would never say such things! Johnathan was kind and loving. Where was he?! She needed him to save her!

The elevator door opened onto another hallway, this one carpeted in thin carpet. He dragged her out and down the hall, more literally than figuratively now. She was losing the strength to even walk, such was her anguish. Where was Johnathan? Where was her owner, her guide in life, her protector? She felt so scared, so lost, so abandoned... she had been made for Johnathan, not these people!

At the end of the hall, he yanked hard on her arm and it burned like fire where the muscle pulled.

"Stand up straight, you worthless piece of shit!" he demanded as loudly as he dared before this door. "And take off that damned paper dress."

He released her arm, and she stood there, crying, blubbering, her eyes swollen and red and dripping with tears, staring at nothing in particular, no longer seeing. She put her arms over her chest in a desperate attempt to keep herself separate from all of this, but the pain and fear and confusion were still there in her heart, which flowed rivers of blood in her soul.

"Goddammit, why do you damned fucklings have to always do this? Jesus!" he growled, as he tried to tear the paper gown off her. It did not rip, and threw her to the floor, instead.

"God dammit!" he yelled, louder than he intended. "Get the fuck up!" he said, kicking her in the butt. She squealed in pain, but otherwise only laid there, shivering and blubbering.

The door opened.

"What's this?" called a commanding, but familiar male voice.

"Oh, sorry, sir, this one's not exactly cooperating."

"Well of course not, you buffoon! She's obviously figured out you're not her owner! Go back down to the lab and clean up. We'll take it from here." said the voice.

"Yes sir," he said, and she watched as his legs moved down the hall.

Now kind and soothing, the same voice was closer.

"Are you alright?" There was the sensation of a gentle hand on her shoulder. Johnathan? She looked up after a second. The smile on his smallish, oval face told Desiree that the man was very pleased he had arrived. Desiree saw that he looked like he was about fifty years old, and his hair had disappeared on the top of his head. The man's eyes were a rich, chocolate brown, and belied a high intelligence. It was not Johnathan. It was James Woolsey.

"Here. Let's get you up on your feet, and then we'll get you inside and comfortable to meet the rest."

Desiree remembered what the man who had made her said.

"...And I don't get my bonus unless you fuck my boss and his buddies, now do I? So you're going to fuck them, and fuck them all good, and you're going to like it. Do I make myself clear?"

She whimpered and retracted into a fetal position.

"My name is James," said the man, wearing a business suit and tie. "I'm a friend of your owner's. He's asked that I and some others share you before you be brought to him. So in order to make your owner happy, it's time to get up now."

Johnathan?This would make Johnathan happy?This is as he wanted? But no feelings of confirmation were returned from the bond of DNA that she shared with Johnathan. Still, if she refused, and it was true, she would displease her owner even more... but... what if it was not?

She got to her feet, the paper gown hanging from her only barely. James casually removed it entirely, and bunched it up into a ball in his hand, then tossed it into a trash can inside the door.

"There, now, that's a good girl. Just follow me and we'll be getting you ready for your owner's wishes." He turned and walked into the room beyond the door. She, not knowing what else to do, followed.

The door closed behind her automatically.

"V-A lock." James said.

"Voice authorized lock engaged," replied a familiar female voice.

The room was long and had a table that ran the length of it, with chairs all around.

"Follow me, please," James said. He began to walk to the door at the other end of the room. Desiree just stood there, staring at the table.

About twenty paces away, he stopped and turned.

"Are you coming? You wouldn't want to go against your owner's wishes, would you?"

Johnathan wants this of me? But again, no feeling of confirmation arose from within. There was only the bleeding pain in her soul. Her sobbing had eased, her tears had slowed to a trickle, but there was that all encompassing pain inside. She felt a gentle hand take her arm.

"Come on, now, we have a few things to do before you can meet your owner. You can only meet him once this is done, you know."

Yes, I must find Johnathan... She allowed herself to be led.

The room beyond the second door was smaller and square. It held a number of people, all men. They were all dressed like James. When she entered the room, they all cheered, eying her lasciviously.

James locked the door, just as he had the other door.

"Now, wash yourself off quickly in the bathroom over there. Make your sex clean again. I know that filthy little rodent had his way with you before he brought you up here."

Desiree was numb. She did as she was told, as if a machine. When she returned, all the men were naked, their clothes piled up along the wall.

"Now, your owner specifically requested that you assume Position X so that we can all fuck you and he can watch. So get in Position X now, leaning on the table."

She did so, still too numb to be very aware of what was going on. The men formed a line behind her and began to take their turns with her, one by one. When each was done, they would go back to the end of the line.

* * * * * * * *

"They fucked you but good, didn't they?" said the man who had created her. She was back in the laboratory, laying on the same table as before. He was checking out her sex. She made no sound.

"Wow, I will have to rebuild you from the waist down. You've been destroyed!"

She only lay there, staring at the ceiling. Where was Johnathan? Where was Johnathan?

"Nellie, give me a full diagnostic sweep. Check for neural damage too."

"Preparing for full diagnostics with neural components sweep," replied the familiar female voice. The spidery machine overhead began to move, it's long arms positioning themselves above Desiree. Each arm held some instrument, and the sounds of each warming up momentarily filled the air.

"Warm up cycle complete. Begin requested diagnostics?"

"Go for it, Nellie."

"Full diagnostics with neural components sweep initiating in five... four.... three.... two... one... and mark."

The arms of the various machines found their proper places, and the check was begun. Lights were shined, sweeping back and forth. After a minute, they stopped.

"Diagnostics complete. Results are ready."

"Hit me," said the creator.

"Diagnostics reveal extensive damage to neurological functions within the brain. Seventy seven percent of normal brain function is off line. There is also extensive tissue damage to the vulva, vagina, cervix, anus and rectum. Minor tissue damage exists to the breasts. There is semen present. Shall I analyze it?"

"No need, Nellie. Can you fix it?"

"I cannot fix semen."

"No, I mean can you fix the physical and neuro damage?"

"Physical damage can be repaired 100%. Repair of the neurological structures requires a baseline sweep of the entire nervous system before I can know the compete steps necessary to attempt a restoration."

"Shit. That'll take -"

"Four hours, twenty three minutes, six seconds."

"Yeah. What you said. Alright, do whatever you have to do. I want her back to as close as possible to the condition she was in when she left here."

"Shall I use Level 3 Paranoia mode to reconstruct her?"

"Only on the neural stuff. The physical reconstruction can be done with normal mode. Go to it."

"Initiating in five... four... three... two... one... and mark."

Laser light played over Desiree for a long time. The man who had created her left the room. All alone with the machine scanning her, Desiree felt empty and abandoned. Her soul had stopped bleeding, but her heart still ached terribly. Where was Johnathan? Eventually, the machine stopped scanning her .

"Neural scan completed. Shall I report?"

"Yes," replied Desiree numbly, in a flat monotone.

"Neural scan reveals psychoneural structural breakdown in twelve registers, requiring complete reimplementation. There are twenty-two registers that have major damage. Seventeen registers have minor damage. There is an 8% chance of success for a perfect complete neural rebuild. Warning: Rebuild errors will not be able to be undone or repaired if present after rebuild is completed. Shall I commence rebuilding?"

"Yes," Desiree again replied, in that numb flat monotone.

"Rebuild sequence at Paranoia Level 3 commencing in five... four... three... two... one... and mark."

* * * * * * * * *

Please vote to indicate how much you liked this chapter, and send me feedback or leave a public comment. I really enjoy hearing back from my readers! Thank you in advance.