Encounter With Destiny - Organization Series 5

ENCOUNTER WITH DESTINY - PART 10

By slave ruthie

"What a funny little creature! That girl must surely be a special order - she is not even as pretty as the house slaves."

"Special? Very - very special indeed, monsignor...or should I now say 'your eminence'?"

"Ahh, Stephen, not yet - I am just a humble member of the Curia until the formal proclamation." The portly, bespectacled man smiled as they both looked through the two-way mirror at the naked, cowering girl desperately trying to adopt position after position as quickly as possible in the training suite. "I will soon have to remember which ring to wear - it will be most confusing!"

Stephen grinned but did not take his eyes away from the intense interplay between his son and Alexa. Her total attention was on Marek's fingers. They had swiftly moved beyond verbal instructions and simple numbered commands to hand signals. It made him proud to see how his personal slave was learning so damn fast! Marek snapped his fingers then closed his hand into a fist before straightening his index finger and making a sharp, sideways movement at the wrist. Alexa immediately knelt with her right cheek firmly pressed to the floor, ankles crossed, thighs properly spaced one foot apart and wrists crossed behind the small of her back. Marek slowly walked around the girl, critically examining her posture. He suddenly lashed out and pressed the metal contacts of a shock-prod against the base of her spine.

Even through the double-glazed mirror, Alexa's shrieks of pain and distress were loud and long. "Ohh, that was harsh, Stephen - the girl did not delay and displayed her cunt well, surely."

"Her head," Stephen murmured. "She moved her head slightly." Perhaps it did seem severe to an outsider but it was necessary. Alexa would only learn perfect submission if the slightest failure was corrected. Marek had been drilling her in the routine forms of slave posture for several hours now. Perhaps she was becoming too tired...but that was a matter for his son to judge and he knew better than to intervene and confuse Alexa by undermining her personal trainer's authority.

The monsignor cleared his throat. "I did not come down to the gymnasium merely to watch a new girl being trained - I needed to speak with you in confidence, Stephen."

That bought Stephen's attention. Why would the Organization's closest master to Saint Peter's throne seek him out? "Do you think I am in need of a priest, monsignor? I am not looking for absolution..."

"Have you ever heard of something called 'Ordo de Terminus Crucis'?"

The fact that he was whispering although they were alone in the observation lounge intrigued Stephen even more. "No, I don't recall the term - it sounds like an obscure cult. Is it another of those fanciful pseudo-Templar societies who claim to have found the lost treasure of Solomon or some other mystical artifact?" If this were all the monsignor wanted to talk about, Stephen would far rather watch Alexa being trained.

"If the 'Order of the Final Crusade' was merely an apostate cult, I would not bother you. No...the 'old man' is very worried, Stephen - in fact I have never seen him so agitated since MOSSAD tried to lure Cardinal M________ outside his Vatican sanctuary with that pretty blonde agent." The monsignor chuckled. "She was certainly the most delicious bait I have ever seen! Such a pity the Swiss Guard became involved - I was really quite looking forward to another secret heresy trial and slow execution...but the Guard did have a lot of sport with her first, under my direction of course."

"Of course." Stephen kept his voice as neutral as possible and observed his companion while her peered through the two-way mirror. The man's expression had changed as his fanatical obsession with reviving the full force of the Holy Inquisition was revealed in his unblinking stare and the unconscious way he kept licking his lips. Stephen had heard the stories about a disused monastery in the Dolomites taken over by the monsignor and his fellow priests - and about the way these 'men of God' had extracted confessions of witch-craft from young orphan girls specially purchased in Bulgaria before consigning them to the spiritually cleansing flames. Yes, the cardinal-elect was quite mad but useful to the Organization if his inquisitorial perversions were carefully fed...and controlled. "Hmm - Karol is a wily old bird. His holiness would not normally let himself be alarmed by a handful of fanatical dreamers." Perhaps this was more interesting than he had initially assumed. "And what about your Opus Dei, monsignor - can't they or even the Knights of Malta deal with the troublemakers?"

"They have both been infiltrated by this Order, Stephen - even R________ does not know who to trust anymore."

Stephen gave out a snort of derision. "Cardinal R________ has never trusted anyone in his life! Why is this secret order so problematic to the church - you have dealt with cults before."

The cardinal-elect paused then chose his words carefully. "That MOSSAD girl told us many things before she died, things even I find unspeakable. The Order has been secretly approaching arms dealers in Russia and they are planning something very terrible, Stephen - something that will bring down the fury of the West to crush Islam once and for all. We do not know what but it will be worse than anything previously seen - and it involves nuclear material from the old Soviet Navy. This is all we know without showing our hand."

Stephen realized the man was frightened; in fact he was terrified - why? The 'retired' Albanian brothers had been trying to buy decommissioned Russian nuclear submarine reactors for a mysterious third party. He would ask their cousin, Envar, who they had been dealing with.

Meanwhile, Marek had stopped punishing Alexa and his slave was curled into a ball on the floor. He clicked his fingers and repeated the hand signal for the 'display and fetter' position. Alexa took a little longer to adopt the correct posture but this time she kept perfectly still, even when Marek slid the crop handle inside her vagina and left it sticking out to detect any slight movement of her body. Stephen counted the remaining seconds off in his head while his son watched the tip of the crop like a hawk - would Alexa last the full five minutes? ...296...297...298...299... YES! She had made it!

*****

Marek nodded almost imperceptively towards the mirror, knowing full well they were being observed. He crouched down, ruffled her hair and placed a tiny candy into her mouth. Alexa sneezed violently and blinked as tears stung her eyes. "Don't you like my candy, little slave?"

"Uhh...m-mint, I mean please sir, mint makes me sneeze, sir."

Marek smiled and patted her head then removed the crop from between her cunt lips. "Then lick the handle clean as your reward, slave - that last effort was much better." He watched Alexa use her tongue to lap her juices from the glistening leather. She had not even pulled a face but had immediately put the handle to her mouth without question. Alexa was displaying such obedience and yet he had barely started her basic slave training - what would this girl be capable of? Marek frowned. There was something not quite right about this girl. She was too compliant, too ready and eager to please. He preferred a girl who resisted, who fought back, whose spirit had to be overcome. Alexa appeared to have given up already and SEEMED not to require breaking. Perhaps she WAS genuine...but perhaps she still had a deeply buried independent streak that was hidden by her abusive upbringing - perhaps her breaking would be far more difficult than his father realized. The girl innocently looked up as she licked and sucked on the leather. Was she merely pretending to obey? There was only one sure way to find out but he decided the time was not right for such an extreme method - better to let her think she had successfully deceived him! "So, Alexa - we will go through the eleven basic positions again until you have them perfectly ingrained. Put down the crop and assume 'attend' position in readiness."

Alexa immediately knelt with her thighs apart and ankles crossed. She straightened her back, wishing she had more voluptuous breasts, and placed her palms on her buttocks. She must not look directly up at him, she had painfully learned after he backhanded her, but she had to watch through the corner of her eye. He was making a curved sign with his fingers - the 'slave arch'! Could she get her head back enough to touch the floor with the top of her brow and avoid the shocking pain of the crop on her pussy? She grasped her ankles and threw back her head as far as possible.

*****

"Come back to my apartment for a coffee, monsignor - we can talk in private about your secret society." He looked back in time to see the crop land between his slave's thighs - she cried out in pain but arched even further to avoid a second strike. Marek wasn't sparing Alexa in any way. His son had clearly taken the Organization's maxim to heart - 'spare the whip and spoil the slave'!

*****

She was so exhausted she thought she wouldn't even make it back as far as her master's apartment - she would have to crawl if Marek kept pulling her along by her collar chain. Alexa wasn't just extremely tired - she was very sore as well. Her body ached all over, especially inside down below. But she was secretly pleased with herself having finally managed a faultless performance of the randomly chosen positions and movements that a slave was required to learn.

For some reason, Marek had frowned as he praised her - it was as though he wanted her to displease him! And she desperately wanted to impress him so what was she doing wrong? There was another girl in the corridor coming towards them. She was carrying a tray of empty dishes. As she neared them, the girl dropped to her knees and lowered her head so a curtain of thick, auburn hair covered her face. Marek walked past the kneeling slave without a second glance but as Alexa stumbled behind him, helplessly gagged and fettered, the slave looked up at her. Alexa was so shocked she stopped, even though it might anger Marek even more.

He felt the sudden resistance of the leash chain and turned to order Alexa on. She looked back at him and he sensed something was wrong. "Well, what is it slave? If you are wasting my time, we will go back to lesson one."

"Plsssss...Mkkkkk....ooookkkkk!" Alexa kept turning her head, trying to point at the cowering slave who was pressing herself against the corridor wall.

"She is just a house slave - there's nothing..." Then he noticed the food stains on the house slave's hair and body. "Look at me, girl, look at me NOW." She turned and lifted her gaze, revealing how her right eye was almost completely swollen shut, how her lower lip had been split, and how her nose was bloodied and might even be broken. His voice became gentle as he examined the tag through her ear. "Who did this...petite Véronique - who has hurt your face?" Marek kept his voice steady, determined not to show either girl how angry he felt. This girl was a HOUSE slave, not a punch bag!

"Monsieur...he say n-not to tell, h-he say he kill..." She was shaking so badly, Alexa wanted to comfort her but what could she do with her hands cuffed behind her back? She struggled to kneel and shuffled closer until her thigh touched the poor girl's side and was grateful that Marek did not order her away. But he had changed from looking so annoyed all the time and was showing such concern for the injured girl - for Véronique - that Alexa felt confused.

Marek reached into his pocket and removed a bright purple strip of plastic with a barcode on it. He looped it around Véronique's collar and pulled it tight. "House slave, you are under MY command now - you answer to no other except me or a master. Now, WHO did this to you and WHY?"

"G-Général N'D______, h-he...m-ma soeur-esclave...ohh! Ma s-soeur-esclave, j-je p-pense elle est m-morte!"

"WHERE - WHAT 'SISTER-SLAVE' AND IN WHICH SUITE? Answer me NOW!" He was already punching the three-digit code for immediate security assistance into the keypad of a nearby intercom.

The girl had buried her injured face in her hands. She whispered "S-salon Bleu" then began to sob. "N-not know the girl - she new slave l never see before...dark skin, l-long plâit...s-she so beautiful!"

Marek wasted no more time listening to the girl's ramblings. He shouted the location into the speaker and ran along the corridor connecting the chateau to the old stable block where the guest suites were located. By the time he reached the Blue Room suite, two of the guards were already hammering and shouldering the doors. The lock splintered apart on the third attempt. Marek was assailed by the stench of blood. He turned to one of the guards. "Stay here - keep everyone out!" He noted that the key was still in the lock on the inside - the general must still be in the suite. Marek did not care for the 'general' - the African warlord had no formal military background and was rumored to have personally butchered all of the deposed president's family - even the smallest infants - following a violent coup in his native country. There were also much worse stories about the general - stories about his insatiable taste for white, virginal female flesh...literally.

They were obviously too late. The trail of blood and devastation led them to the bathroom. Marek almost gagged at the sight of the general's severely mutilated, dismembered torso. Where on earth was the rest of his body? And what had happened to the other slave girl that Véronique had described?

They found the African's severed head lying by the bedside table. One half of his face appeared to have been torn away. His own ripped-off penis had been stuffed into his shattered mouth. The guard threw up at the scene. It just did not make sense - who could have done this? Marek picked his way over the smashed furniture and examined the window, exposed where the drapes had been ripped down. It was locked but had red streaks down the glass, as though somebody had tried to claw his way free. Marek's gaze fell on the remains of what looked like the victim's lower arm that had been thrown across the room - it was as if the general had been literally torn apart! There was a twist of red and gold fiber and jet-black hair in the contorted hand. Marek carefully pulled it free and placed it in a tissue. What had happened here - where was the missing slave? But they only found more parts of the general, even though the window and door to the suite had both been locked from the inside.

Marek knew they would need a formal examination of the general's shattered remains, although the cause of death seemed gruesomely plain. Ordering the guard who had thrown up not to disturb anything else, he asked the other guard at the door to fetch master Arnaud and his slave, Nadine, immediately. Although the Belgian was actually a psychiatrist, he was the only medical doctor staying at the chateau. And Nadine had been a student nurse before she was enslaved, he had heard...

*****

Alexa tried to keep as close to the corridor wall as possible while men rushed past several times. The other girl had been taken away for treatment to her face. A stunningly pretty slave had come and held Véronique while she wept then gently guided her upright. The girl had smiled at Alexa, stroking her hair as she whispered "merci, ma soeur". Then she was left alone. At one point a guard had dashed by then returned only to lock her ankle chain to her wrist chain so she could not stand up. Then he clipped her leash chain to a nearby fixing ring in the corridor wall, forcing her to remain kneeling or choke. He wasn't being deliberately cruel, she realized, for he had grinned and ruffled her hair then lightly tweaked her ringed nipples and the tip of her snub nose before departing. She had no idea what the commotion was all about and had no choice but to wait where she had been fettered.

*****

"Do you know how much force it would take to pull of a man's head?" Master Arnaud surveyed the scene of carnage in disbelief. "I do not just mean dislocating the vertebrae but tearing through muscle, skin and other soft tissue - it is beyond normal human strength! See? Look here below the jaw - there are no teeth marks or clean-cut edges to the wounds...no, this man was literally pulled apart. And it is not possible for your unidentified slave to have done such a thing - I assume she has not been traced? All the slaves have been accounted for? Then it is a double mystery."

Marek tried not to look too closely at what master Arnaud was holding. "Do you have any idea of the time of death?"

"According to the rectal temperature and the onset of rigor, this man had died shortly before you found him...the house slave had just left the suite, yes?" Master Arnaud removed his surgical gloves and dropped them into the open body bag. "There will be no need to fake a death by the way - the général was on the run for crimes against humanity, you know. We did not intend him to live here for long..."

"No, I did not realize he was a fugitive." Marek felt distinctly uncomfortable. After all, he was also indicted and would be languishing in a prison cell in The Hague if his father had not arranged his own 'death'. "So what are you saying, master Arnaud - that this is retribution by a frenzied killer who can tear a man limb from limb then walk through locked doors? There has to be a more reasonable - a more logical explanation. "

"I am simply saying the général has been violently murdered. Perhaps we can extract more information from that house slave? I am quite skilled at the questioning of females, as I believe are you." Master Arnaud smiled and quietly added, "Pain is the most effective liberator of the truth where a slave is concerned, n'est pas?"

"Véronique is still receiving treatment for her eye - she is lucky not to lose it. I shall interrogate her in the morning." Marek did not want anyone else to deal with the girl. He had noticed her on several occasions - a shy, quiet slave who tried to make herself invisible but when serving was always attentive with the wine to refill his empty glass or to remove a dirty dish. And he was desperate to prove his worthiness for elevation to master hood - he wanted the Master's Ring on his finger...perhaps Véronique would then wear his mark above her cunt - what brand would he choose? The design had to be registered and unique to him - a double-headed eagle, perhaps? Marek frowned and ceased his idle speculation. But this murderous attack on the general might suit him very well indeed!

Marek ran his fingers through his hair. "And we have a violent murderer - or a murderess - on the loose. Master Arnaud, can we keep this as quiet as possible? I do not want our killer to go to ground...let's make him - or her - feel relaxed and think there's no risk of detection. That way we might lure the general's nemesis out into the open."

"A dangerous game, young Marek - why not use that house slave as bait?"

"Hmm, perhaps, I might. Now, if you will excuse me?"

"Ahh, of course - your father's new little toy in the corridor! Interesting choice, is she not?" Master Arnaud signaled for the guards to remove the body and begin clearing up the suite. "I have agreed to be her sponsor - that is, if she survives your training program, Marek. Please send her to me tomorrow after lunch if you can spare her."

*****

Alexa kept perfectly still while her leash chain was freed from the wall. When the padlock linking her wrist and ankle fetters was moved, she remained kneeling until Marek tugged her up. "You behaved well, Alexa. I will forgive your defiance on this occasion - just don't make a habit of it or you will be severely punished." They took a different route and Alexa became very confused. The chateau complex must be huge, she realized, to have so many different corridors and stairs.

He led her through one last set of doors into a dimly lit hall. She could smell chlorine and could hear the dull sound of machinery or pumps. When he turned on the lights, Alexa stared in amazement and trepidation at a huge, dark swimming pool. There was a long overhead rail with a device on it. Marek pressed a button on a control panel and the object slid along the rail to pause above her head. "We will finish this evening with a swim."

Alexa began to panic his words sunk home. "Nnnnn...NNNNNN!!!" He drew a wire down from the device and clipped it to the back of her collar. "Plsssss....nnnnnnn!!!" He was freeing her ankles and wrists. "Stppppp!!! PLSSSSSS!!!"

Marek frowned while he removed the ball gag from the extremely agitated slave. "What is the matter NOW?"

"I-I c-can't swim! I-I don't know how! Ohh Marek PLEASE..."

"Then now is the time to learn - twenty lengths should be enough!" He ignored her pleas and programmed the duration and speed into the gantry control. Alexa cried in terror as the cable from her collar began to drag her to the edge of the pool. She held out until there was no way of balancing and fell with a desperate splash into the water. "Come ON, slave - use your arms - KICK those little legs of yours!"

*****

When he opened the door, Stephen was met by the pitiful sight of his bedraggled slave hanging face down with her arms suspended between two guards. Alexa was too exhausted to even kneel properly and looked like she had been half dragged along the corridor. "Over here, please." One of the guards threw Alexa over his shoulder and slid his arm between her thighs then reached behind to knot her hair in his free hand. She was too weak to resist and let her arms and legs just hang down with the short chains between her wrist and ankle cuffs loosely dangling against the guard's uniform. Stephen waited while her cuffs and collar were removed then saw the men to the door.

The other guard handed him an envelope as he left. "Marek said to give you this, monsieur. Bon nuit." Alexa was whimpering while she lay sprawled on the fur. Stephen watched her restless movements and smiled. He knew what was agitating her - exactly like Lyssa used to be. She evidently needed the comfort and security of bondage – a natural submissive who panicked without the reassurance of being controlled. "Something missing, little Alexa? Put your ankle out, slave." Despite her weakened condition, it was gratifying to see her moving her left foot towards the single cuff attached to the wall by its sturdy chain. "Good girl, VERY good girl." Despite her tears, Alexa's desperately tired face lit up at his words. He locked the cuff around her ankle and gently stroked her hair before draping the blanket over her body. She tried to press her head against his hand. "Hush, girl, he whispered. "You rest easy now - your master has you safe." Her sigh of pleasure tingled with relief told him everything he needed to know...that she was truly HIS.