Cuckoo

Epilogue: Lost Property

Sir Peter Killingworth lent back in his big leather chair and frowned. Amanda swallowed her terror and glanced at the WPC for reassurance. This wasn't easy for her. Confronting her former boss, her erstwhile captor and self styled master would have been quite an ordeal under any circumstances but on his own territory in the very room where he'd so often casually fucked and abused her it was almost a form of torture.

"And how exactly am I supposed to have achieved this?", the businessman said, his voice a confident contrast to her own soft, hesitant and miserable tones. "It seems to me that if you had been working here as my maid - and mind, I'm not admitting that you were - you had every chance to leave. Why didn't you?"

"The baby. The baby's mine."

"Really?" Sir Peter raised an eyebrow. "Well there are genetic tests to prove these things aren't there. I'm sure the courts would find no evidence to back up an absurd claim like that! And it was just your so called baby that kept you here was it?"

"No!"

"The young lady claims she was drugged", the chief inspector interrupted smoothly, cooling the argument. "She says you were brainwashing her and keeping her passive with the aid of chemicals and subliminal aural messages."

"Really?" Sir Peter began to chuckle. "Wasn't that the plot of some lurid 1970's schlock film? The Manchurian Candidate I think it was called. It's quite absurd of course. Just science fiction. Ask yourself this. Why would my wife co-operate in any sort of scheme to brainwash you girl? And she'd have to co-operate if you were here for as long as you say. What would her motive be? Your story all looks very threadbare once we get past the lurid sensationalism doesn't it? I'm afraid you've been led astray by a tawdry little gold digger Inspector. I don't know what her game is but I'm having none of it!"

Amanda thought she was going to cry - she had to fight very hard not to. Put like this her claim did sound implausible. And she really wasn't used to confronting Sir Peter. The whole experience felt unnatural, even to the clothes she was wearing, a simple grey knee length skirt with flesh coloured tights, low square heels and a demure white blouse. In this house it felt like she was overdressed. She certainly wouldn't have been permitted the modest white panties that cradled her bare sex -permanently denuded, she remembered now with a flash of anger, on Sir Peter's orders.

"Well how do you explain this then?" she said pushing her hair up suddenly and fingering the valve in her neck which Dr. Stebbings had implanted to control her drug reservoir. "You see I found out about you. You.. you.. b… b… beast!"

And now she did break down and cry for a few breaths. But her courage had returned a little with her anger and she forged on. "Your Code Babel isn't perfect. I picked up some clues about what you were doing to me. I found out where the speakers were and I muffled them. I got to the bottle of chemicals that Mrs Tibbs was using to fill this thing in my neck. And I emptied it out and topped it up with water. Even then I had to pretend I was still in your thrall. I had to pretend you controlled me perfectly until I could find the chance to run away. The chance to steal some of my old clothes and make a getaway."

"I see." Sir Peter's voice was colder now; altogether more serious suddenly. "But of course you have absolutely no way of substantiating these wild claims. That thing in your neck. I suspect if we investigated we'd find a respectable doctor who'd tell the courts it was for a respectable medical condition. I've heard they can treat schizophrenia with slow release drugs. And doesn't that make the patient prone to delusions and paranoia? That's what it'll be in your case. It's all starting to make sense now."

"But I can prove it!"

"Really? How?"

"Like this!"

Amanda reached into her hand bag and fumbled out a cassette. She looked around wildly. There was a stereo in the corner of the office with a tape deck. Amanda slipped her cassette in the slot with fumbling fingers then pressed the play button. The sound of Sir Peter's voice came clearly through the speakers.

"Dr. Stebbings asked if either of us had any ethical objections to breaking some of the social rules which operate in conventional society. Naturally we said no."

Another man could be heard laughing.

"There's more than one way to use a tape", Amanda said over the recording. "I found a cassette recorder on my cleaning duties and I was able to hide it and record some of your conversations when you'd put me under your so called Code Babel protocol. That's how I know. I know it all!"

"No you don't", Sir Peter said. "If you knew it all you'd know that your baby was never your own. But that doesn't matter. That's a detail. The point is you obviously know too much. Too much for your own good my dear. You've been very enterprising, Miss Jenkins, very enterprising indeed. How unfortunate for you! If it hadn't been for that tape I could have let you go. There was nothing you could prove. But as it is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you! The party's over now. Inspector, if you wouldn't mind?"

Amanda had listened to this little speech with a kind of numb horror, her eyes wide and her muscles locked. Only at the very end did she think to turn away and flee. But it was too late. She only managed one gurgled scream before the WPC's hand closed over her mouth and the Inspector seized her arm…

Five minutes later the struggle was over. Regulation police handcuffs secured Amanda's wrists and her arms were stretched above her head and looped through a hook in the ceiling. Blouse, skirt, shoes, tights and panties had all been removed, the tights tied tightly round the prisoner's ankles and the panties wedged into her mouth to muffle the girl's anguished cries which had now subsided to choked sobs.

"I'll have to hand it to the bitch, she's a feisty one!", the Inspector said. "She put up quite a fight there. Those legs can certainly kick can't they? Good job there were three of us."

He patted WPC Julia Sanderson on the bottom appreciatively, knowing that it was only her presence which had reassured the witness sufficiently to persuade her to step foot inside the Manor House. Amanda was still wriggling and squirming like a freshly caught fish and hot tears flooded from her eyes.

"I hope you'll be more careful with your property in future. It was only a stroke of good fortune brought her to my patch first."

"Don't worry there's no chance I'll make the same mistake again", Sir Peter said. "The really lucky thing is that she didn't recognise you, Richard. After all, you're not just a casual acquaintance. You have given her a good poke before, eh?"

"I certainly recognised her!", the police officer confirmed. "But it's been six months since I visited you - it was only the once and I had a beard and moustache then. Add to that, the fact that she was distraught and not expecting to see me and it isn't too surprising…"

He paused to land a single ringing slap on the victim's bottom. "Keep still bitch, for goodness sake. You're not going anywhere now!"

They watched Amanda subside, her breasts still heaving and her face flushed pink from her excursions.

"Well thank you Inspector", Sir Peter said, "I certainly appreciate it."

"Glad to be of assistance. Your maid was quite an inspiration to me when I last visited you. Quite an inspiration and quite a pleasure! That's what gave me the idea to send Julia here to see your friend Doctor Stebbings. But now I'm afraid we must be off. I've other business to attend to."

"So soon… Won't you at least enjoy a little of Miss Jenkins' hospitality before you go?"

"Well… perhaps just a quick one eh?"

In fact it was half an hour later when the Inspector's car turned out of the drive and back in the direction of the village where Amanda had been picked up by one of his patrol vehicles less than a week ago. In the driver's seat, Chief Inspector Richard Mann felt some considerable degree of satisfaction over the outcome of his visit to Sir Peter Killingworth's house. It was good to be able to perform a basic piece of police work so effectively. Sometimes the job of a chief inspector seemed either too political or too managerial or both. He'd lost sight of what it meant to be a grass roots officer on the beat. But today he'd been given the opportunity to remember what he loved about the force - the ability to keep law and order and serve the public - and his friends of course! Even in something as simple as the return of lost property. And that was exactly what Amanda was - lost property to be returned to her rightful owner. Admittedly this particular piece of property could have caused its owner a lot of trouble if it had turned up in the wrong place. Which was why he felt no shame about enjoying the finder's reward. That blonde bitch was hot! Miss Jenkins' body was every bit as good as he'd remembered. How she'd squirmed when he plugged her bottom and forced her to accommodate him! The silly little tart thought she was being so clever but she'd really made such a dreadful mistake. It had been quite a sight to see her hopes dashed so cruelly by his betrayal and he'd almost felt sorry for her - almost. He caressed Julia's knee lightly as he changed gear. When they got back to the station the curvy little WPC would make a nice dessert...

"What am I going to do with you eh Amanda?" Sir Peter asked rhetorically. He was standing behind her whispering in her ear as his left hand rhythmically squeezed her left breast and his right hand played with her bare pussy. "You're such a trial to me, you know that? And now you've got me in trouble with the police! It's a good job Inspector Mann is so understanding isn't it? I hope he enjoyed himself in your bottom - it's the least he deserves don't you think?"

The businessman gave Amanda's breast a firm squeeze. He was pleased to note that for all her tears, all her misery and abject humiliation her sex was moistening despite itself. That part of Amanda's conditioning had bitten too deeply and she could never escape the slavery of her sexual desires, no matter how much her conscious mind might want to. She had such a fine body, lean, fit and well conditioned. It would have been a shame to let that body go to waste.

He broke away at last and went over to a cupboard on the wall from which he took a hypodermic syringe and a clear phial of Amanda's medicine. Standing in front of her, he let the girl watch as he slowly filled the glass cylinder with a 10CC dose, the drop at the end of the needle as he squeezed out the excess seeming to hypnotise her for a precious few seconds.

And after all that she'd experienced it was this precise moment that suddenly felt to Amanda like the worst of all. The fear, dread and apprehension of her escape had been lightened by hope and the adrenalin rush of horror at her betrayal had kept her from thinking, reducing her to a panicked bundle of muscles and nerves. Even when the Chief Inspector had been buggering her, the full reality of the situation hadn't penetrated beyond the shock of her recapture. But now, with the police gone and alone at last with the man who had broken her, there was time and leisure to bitterly regret her ill fated escape attempt and to contemplate her future. She knew she'd get no second chance to escape. Sir Peter wasn't a fool. The terrible misfortune that had foiled her plan had doomed her forever. Soon her drug reservoir would be topped up with he medicine and this time it wouldn't be water, it would be real. How she hated him! Intellectually she knew that he was old and ugly - his liver spotted hands seemed more like claws as they roamed so complacently over her flesh, but they excited her despite herself in a way no other man could do now. Not after the conditioning. Her body was programmed for Sir Peter and his wife whatever her mind thought. He was putting the needle to her neck now - sinking the plunger Soon, so soon, it would all be over. The drug wouldn't help her to like her situation -she knew that much well enough. She'd always dread and fear the aristocrat and his family. But the drug would suppress any hope of escape or ability to plan for it. It would make her psychologically helpless.

He'd never loved her in the slightest. She knew that now. She was a convenience that was all - a possession - a body to be used. And that's what she'd always been. Except from now on there would be no pretence. Her mouth, cunt and bottom hole would be convenient receptacles for Sir Peter to use to relieve himself, dumping his cum inside her when there was nothing better available and with little more thought or concern than he might use for the toilet if he was taking a piss. But that attitude would be far from symmetric! Whether she liked it or not, she knew she'd try her absolute hardest to please him, wriggling, squirming, sucking and licking to the utmost of her ability. Because it was only when Sir Peter was pleased that Amanda had any chance at all of being granted one of those orgasms that bound her to him and which she so desperately craved. Everything she did from now on would be focused totally on pleasing him - keeping her body trim and fit so that she remained a desirable fuck - performing her duties round the house, quickly and efficiently so that she didn't anger him. Because she knew he wouldn't hesitate to thrash her. That would be her life from now on - forever. A thrall - a toy - an object.

Sir Peter was mounting her now with a grunt of satisfaction. And her body responded. With each thrust she felt herself becoming wetter - hotter - more eager. She knew what she was now. Take an inventory of the slave girl's most important assets - one cunt, one arse, two legs, a pair of tits, a womb and a throat, lips and tongue - all present and correct and to be kept in good condition for her owner. But right at this moment it was even simpler than that. Right this moment she was only a needy, needy hole desperate to be filled. And all the while the drug circulating through her veins took a stronger and stronger hold, squeezing out the last vestiges of independent thought - the last corners of resistance…

Sir Peter knew at least part of what he was going to do with Amanda - the important part. Just before her escape Vivian had been talking about a second child.

"Let's get 'miss rent a womb' started on another", she'd said. That was fine by Sir Peter. But this time he decided things would be a little different. He'd overestimated Amanda. It was wrong to use her as a maid when really she was just livestock. Dr. Stebbings had suggested another piece of surgery which he'd turned down before, but now he felt inclined to take it up. He would have Amanda's vocal chords clipped. It would reduce her to inarticulate little moans and squeaks more appropriate to her status. He'd keep her in the kennels with the dogs - permanently. She'd be easier to control in there. And when their next baby was born, why not rent her out to his friends, or contacts of Dr. Stebbings who might want to do the same thing but hadn't the resources to acquire a juicy young womb like Amanda's? Yes, with a bit of planning it could become a little business. Amanda could be kept more or less continually up the duff with cuckoo pregnancies, year after year after year…

So that was the long term, but what about the short term? That's what he hadn't decided on. Amanda deserved something special to punish her for her recalcitrance, something to signal that she was broken back into the harness. Spanking, strap and cane weren't sufficient somehow.

He thrust deeply, groaning as he fountained inside her. Amanda climaxed too - well behaved and to order, shuddering to a stop with a slow tear leaking from her left eye.

As he stroked Amanda's flesh savouring her sweet young body with all its nubile pleasures, its fears, its terrors and its helplessly aroused sensuality he considered several options but none seemed quite good enough… Still, there was plenty of time. He'd think of something…

The End