Anger Issues

by TylerRose.

  “Arms at your side or you’ll be cuffed behind your back,” Faulk told her.

  “Fuckin’ cuff me then,” she blurted.

  He did.

  An interesting reaction. She wouldn’t walk uncovered voluntarily. She had to be forced to leave herself exposed. A lot of things were beginning to make sense to the House Master.

  He logged into the offices of the Celestial Congress and typed out an inquiry for the scanning device the doctor wanted. Mally came in as he was finishing. He nodded the guard off with a bounce of his eyes toward the door and left Mally standing there while he reread his request and sent it. He looked at her a moment before getting up to go around the desk and stand in front of her.

  “Would you like to suck my cock?” he asked in a pleasant tone.

  “No,” she replied, flat and emotionless.

  “Will you please suck my cock?” he tried again.

  “No.” Not quite the same tone, but just as curt.

  “Get on your knees right fucking now and suck my cock or you’ll go under the toilet tube downstairs and stay there for three hours,” he commanded, opening his pants.

  She lowered to her knees and did as commanded, arms still cuffed behind her back. He enjoyed her mouth for a few minutes before stopping her.

  “Stand up. Would you like for a member to pick you out of a line up and have sex?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Would you like to pick the member out of a line up and have sex with the one of your choosing?” he tried again.

  “No.”

  He took her by the front of the collar and bent her over the front of his desk and fucked her. She didn’t fight it. In fact, she got off hard several times before he popped himself off.

  “Was that recorded too?” she asked as he closed his pants.

  “No, it was not. That was for my own curiosity. Get up. Come here,” he said, unclipping her arms so she could use them but leaving the cuffs on.

  Standing, turning to see he was already lowering to sit in the armchair on the other side of the office, she followed. He pointed to the floor. She lowered to sit on her behind, not asking first. He did not correct her this time. He wanted her to be comfortable.

  “What happened a couple months back when you were arrested for prostitution but the charges were dropped?” he asked, pouring a glass of water from the carafe on the table.

  “You just said what happened.”

  “That’s not what happened. That’s the headline. Tell me the story. What happened?”

  “Why does it matter?” she asked, accepting the water.

  “It matters because I say it does. Answer me or you’ll sit under a toilet tube tomorrow too.”

  “Seems to me that’s going to be inevitable, if it’s what you threaten me with at every turn,” she flared up. “Now and then I place an ad. ‘Young lonely woman looking to have a nice supper with pleasant company.’ I always get lots of offers. So I meet them for supper. Sometimes I pay. Usually they pay. Some that I liked, I let come home with me. In order for there to be a prostitution charge, there has to be actual sexual intercourse, as you know. Plus the money has to change hands. He had sex with me, but no money changed hands. He was a police officer, part of a sting. He arrested me. The judge dismissed the charges when the cop couldn’t consistently say how much money he’d given me. He’d paid for the meal, but that is not paying me for sex. Because he’d not given me any money, the judge ordered the arrest expunged from my record.”

  “And the rape charge you wouldn’t prosecute months before that?” he asked. “What happened there?”

  “That’s how some of those dates ended. On my doorstep, I would tell them that I was not going to verbally agree to have sex with them. If, however, they followed me in and had their way with me without asking, a good time might be had by all.”

  “Was it a good time?”

  “Very,” she smiled.

  “So let me see if I have this right. What your uncle did to you all those years taught you to like being forced. If given the opportunity to say no, the answer will be no. If not given the opportunity to refuse, if forced to take it, you get off like a freight train.”

  Crudely put, but she couldn’t argue with the analogy.

  “It’s fine, Mally. Really. The girls in the lettered rooms are all special cases. Most committed crimes that were justifiable in one way or another. One killed her husband for beating her. You killed your uncle for telling you he was going to start in on your niece. Another killed her father for molesting her. Condemned to die for their crimes, but their crimes really do not deserve death. We keep them here, comfortably, for as long as possible. So long as they obey the rules, no one will kill them. You are our only medical case right now. Our only red collar. In order to get the most out of you, we need to know what your buttons are.”

  “I have lots of those,” she mused unhappily.

  “Yes, you do. That’s what the other night was about. We learned a great deal that night. You have a quick mouth, a smart wit, but when it comes to it, you submit to what is wanted of you. You don’t fight it. In that respect, your uncle taught you well for us. It’s crappy how you got there. I’m not saying it wasn’t. But you don’t have to put in any more ads. Not ever again. If you like being taken without your overt consent and don’t feel violated when it happens, then you’re already ahead of most of the girls in the Manor. You’ll never know where it’s going to come from, or when, if you’re in the Manor. Any of the men might decide to have you at any time. Wherever you are standing or lying, or he might take you up to his room. If you would embrace the concept rather than seeing us as enemies, you would realize you are in your own personal sexual nirvana.”

  He left that sentence to hang a moment.

  “You’ll go back to your room for a while, and be called for shortly.”

  The guards were waiting outside the office for her, took her directly back to her room while the House Master went to the dining room to get his early supper.

  “House Master. I hear there’s a new girl in room L,” he heard, and looked up to see their longest standing member. “May I sit?”

  “Of course, and yes, there is. I’ll be keeping her away from you, if you don’t mind too much, Thor,” Hank smiled. “We want her to live and you’ve been going on sprees lately.”

  “That cunt the Empress Advocate,” Thor shook his head. “I’m working very closely with her now. If she ever learned to control the pheromones she throws off, it’d be a miracle. She’s an infuriating woman in every way imaginable.”

  “I’m sure. I have put in a request with the Congress for our doctor. He wants a high tech scanning machine he’s heard about. Is there any way you can expedite things?”

  “To whom did you send the request?” Thor asked.

  “I submitted it through our Ambassadorial channels.”

  Thor took out his phone and called the Sistarian Congressional office on the station now orbiting K’Tran.

  “This is Vaughn. I understand State Prison 23, on Deek’Trai V, has put in a request for a medical scanner. Please approve it as my gift and deliver as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Sir. I will see to it myself,” replied the Senior Congressman.

  Call ended, phone put away.

  “Done. Is it for the new girl?”

  “And other medical issues, yes. B is cancer free, but taking an entire day for two guards to go down to a hospital with her just for a scan is a waste of time and money,” Hank said. “If we have a machine, a scan can be done at any time with instant results, and it’s kept in-house.”

  “I agree entirely. I look forward to meeting her when she finally convinces you to let her die,” Thor said. “Personally, I think forcing her to remain alive against her will is cruel when she is so ill and incurable.”

  He left the table as the House Master’s meal arrived. Hank was paused over his plate. If Thor, who was notorious for killing person after person with his bare hand while st
aring them in the eye, considered something cruel…They should take note of that. He ate his meal with less pleasure than he might have done, and went in to see the League President.

  “Might I have a moment, Mr. President?” he asked from just inside the door.

  He was waved over, sitting as the President finished a phone call.

  “I just had an interesting exchange with Thor,” Hank opened. “You know what the man is like. You know he’s been worse the last few weeks since he started working for the Advocate.”

  “Yes, and?”

  “He thinks it cruel that we’re forcing Mally to remain alive. He thinks we should fulfill her sentence and end her suffering.”

  “Well, of course he does. He’d love to get first crack at her, no doubt,” the President replied. “Do not fall for his manipulations, Hank. That’s all it is. He only ever does anything for his own agenda and you know that. We will assess Mally’s condition when we see a significant change for the worse, and not when a self-serving, over-important asshole wants us to.”

  There was that. “Thank you, Mr. President.

  The only instructions she was given were to shave her legs and paint her nails red, fingers and toes. The blade razor was gone. In its place was a battery-powered electric version. So she was on suicide watch. Perfect. At least she couldn’t cut her leg shaving.

  Chutney already too interested in what she was doing with the buzzing contraption, she set to work. She had to throw a toy to keep the cat occupied, and was struck by a thought. How many women had been in this spot over the years? Tossing a toy to keep a cat busy while shaving legs or painting nails? How many ghosts were doing exactly as she was?

  She wondered if they got what they’d wanted.

  Finished with plenty of time for her nails to dry, she sat wrapped in her blanket to wait. Watching something on the screen, she wondered what they were going to do to her this time.

  She was called to the spot, and took Chutney with her this time to prevent her running out the door. How many others had held their cat for the same reason? Put back down, Chutney stayed switching her tail back and forth in annoyance for the few seconds Mally needed to leave.

  She was taken through the corridors and locked doors into the opulence of the Manor. The other side of the library was a square of four rooms all interconnected. She was taken through a room with green wallpaper into one with red. Then to the right and into a yellow room.

  The House Master came was there, sitting in a chair. He stood, held up a shaped mouthpiece on straps.

  “Open your mouth.”

  She looked at the apparatus, balked at it.

  “Not a word,” he pre-empted her. “This will keep you from getting into trouble with your words.”

  She opened her mouth and he fit the U shaped guard over her bottom teeth. It was a semi-firm plastic with rounded edges like a sports mouth guard. The two pieces were melded together.

  “Close. Turn around.”

  Teeth closed in the guard, already wondering how it would stop her from opening her mouth, she stood still while he brought a strap up over her head. The two thin straps came up from the big O rings at the sides, were joined with a rivet over her nose to a single strap that went up over her head to another O ring. From there, it split again to buckle near the back. The entire thing was like a strappy helmet.

  He swiftly engaged the buckle at the back of her neck, pulling the straps tight around her head. Then he adjusted the head straps. Before she could open her mouth to talk, he buckled a short strap under her mouth. Pulled maybe a notch too tight, it held her jaw up so she couldn’t open her mouth. He reached up to the X she was in front of, pulling down a clip on a cable and attaching it to the metal ring on the top of the gag. He pulled the lead taut so it would keep her head up.

  “You do not touch the gag. You do not touch the clip or tether. Ever. Understand me?”

  She nodded.

  Arms up, he put her wrists into the leather cuffs on the inside edges of the top planks. She could turn around to stand with arms crossed. In that position, she’d be able to rest her head on her forearms or upper arms. Facing outward, she had to angle one way or the other to lean her head on an arm.

  It didn’t take long for men to start to approach. Most of them wore business suits. As the first hand reached for her, she remembered her black cloth suit back in her room. The House Master had said she would wear it in the Manor. She idly wondered how many other such promises would be ignored as time went on.

  They all squeezed a tit and flipped fingertips over her nipples. Most felt her puss, some tugged or traced the red collar. She was still wearing the “Spite” tag. They all walked away. She silently wondered why none of them did anything more.

  [Because they can’t afford to kill you,] she heard inside her head.

  Her eyes sought out the source, looking for the man who had spoken. The men in the chairs were engaged in conversation with each other. A shape arrived in the doorway to her right, a darkness of presence like none of the other men. She saw him leaning against the jamb with a comfortable casualness, like this was his home. Their eyes met and he stepped toward her in his own time. Dark hair and eyes, six feet tall but slender. Long fingers slid up her chest plate and under the collar, turned over to give it a tug.

  [This right here makes you the most expensive slut in the place other than the President’s current favorite,] she heard in her head, his lips not moving. [This red collar puts a price of one million Ruds on your death.]

  Ruds being the currency of the Celestial Congress the planet had petitioned to join.

  [That is the sanction. No one wants to pay it.]

  [It’s not fair,] she replied.

  [I agree. They should put you out of your misery like they would any dog with the same condition.]

  [Fuck you.]

  He only smiled. [Shouldn’t you be put down like a diseased mongrel?] he taunted, a hand wrapping around the front of her throat.

  [Asshole!] She jerked sideways out of his loose grip.

  He took fresh hold, keeping her in place with one hand, the other opening his pants. He was in her in a second, using her in short but forceful jerks with the length of his thumb pressing vertically up the front of her larynx. She knew the sensation of restricted air, the pressure of throat closing.

  [Shouldn’t I kill you right now? Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that what you planned for?]

  She used her hips to buck at him, twisted her shoulders hard and fast at the same time, trying to throw him off. Men and women around the room watched to see if he’d do it, the House Master scowling from the doorway she could see.

  [See them all watching? Waiting for me to finish you off?]

  She didn’t look. [Get off me!]

  He groaned his cum, gripping her hair to pull her head far back over the top of the x shaped apparatus. He bore down into her eyes while his cock continued to pulse inside her.

  “You just fought to live, stupid cunt,” he said aloud.

  He let her go, stepped back to zip up his pants, and walked away. He stopped at the House Master, powerful eyes glowing his murderous soul.

  “If she had not fought to live, I’d have killed her.”

  “I’m surprised that stopped you.”

  “It’s the only thing that stopped me. Put my dispatch room together and bring eight prisoners to it. When she is really ready to die, call me.”

  He went through to the next room.

  “Take her down. Take the gag off and put her on a bench to rest a minute,” the House Master said to the Footman working the room.

  Radio out, he gave instructions to the Second Floor team to get the viewing room ready.

  In the end, Thor dispatched those eight and three more, choking the life out of each just to watch that life drain from their eyes. The audience of members in the viewing room always enjoyed the display. When he was done, Thor went downstairs and out the back door to sit on the terrace and watch the sunset. He s
moked one of his thin, sweet cigars.

  Duke Baener, President of the Council in the Celestial Congress, came out to sit with him.

  “Does the Empress Advocate even know who you are?” he asked, lighting up his own cigar.

  “No and I don’t want her to,” Thor replied. “For now, I am her assistant and platonic companion. But I tell you, it won’t be much longer. Has she ever used the temple here in the plateau?”

  “Not to my knowledge, though she does know it is here. Why do you take the worst offenders? Why not the Justifiables?”

  Meaning the ones who had committed what the Manor deemed a justifiable homicide.

  “Because they aren’t bad people, Bane. They were desperate. Scared. Maybe angry. They are not evil to the core.”

  “I get that. I’ve watched you do it, though. It’s like you’re on a mission,” Baener said.

  “In a matter of speaking, I am. Hades only ever took good people to her. People deserving peace. That’s who she takes into herself now, almost exclusively. Never negative energies. The more she does, the more I am compelled to collect negative energy to eventually pass off to her during final evolution. There must be a balance. Why don’t you kill more? You work with the cunt too.”

  “I’m not around her nearly as much as you are. I won’t be there at the end either. That’s never been my work. I am the peripheral protection detail and quietly supportive patron. Nothing more.”

  “Wanna trade me?” Thor asked.

  “Hell no!” Baener laughed.

  The door opened, the butler stepping out.

  “Thor, the House Master would like to see you, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be in in a minute.”

  He waited for the butler to go inside.

  “You know, they all still think the prison was started so rich assholes could legally kill criminals,” he said to Baener. “They’d shit if they knew they were sitting on a Temple of the Immaculate and the criminals are here to feed her when she turns to ingesting life energy for nourishment, like Parin does on Gethis.”

  “They gonna be pissed if she comes here and they can’t kill anymore,” Baener chuckled with the secret the two of them shared and no one else in the Manor knew.