Story: Darke Repression

by J. Darksong

Repression: n 1: a state of forcible subjugation; 2: the classical defense 
mechanism that protects you from impulses or ideas that would cause anxiety by 
preventing them from becoming conscious.  ---WorldNet Online Dictionary.

        Darkness, Imprisoning me,
        All that I see.
        Absolute horror.
        I cannot live,
        I cannot die,
        Trapped in myself,
        Body my holding cell.

        ---ONE, from Metallica, ...And Justice For All, 



        Dreams. Fevered dreams. 

        Opening bleary, bloodshot eyes. Walls of wood and stone, adorned by many numerous 
designs, the likes of which he had not seen before. Glancing about, he saw the covered 
hooded faces of his keepers, his captor, twelve of them, all wearing green silken robes.
The room was warm. A small fire blazed silently somewhere behind him, shedding its heat
in waves. Small droplets of sweat ran down his fevered brow, and from the rest of his
naked body as well. He longed to reach up and wipe away the beads of perspiration, but
secured to the ceremonial stone as he was, he was unable to lift a finger.
        He glanced down at his needle ridden body. 
        Several small thin needles covered most of his frame. The little pins were nothing
special, of ordinary iron, yet somehow they were draining him, weakening him. Before, he
had struggled, fought against every intrusion, straining in vain to escape his bonds.
After three days, he no longer had the strength for even that token show of resistance.
The man sighed softly, snaking out a small probe at the twelve priests guarding him.
As before, he felt nothing. He was too weak, and his captor's hold was too strong. They
were completely hers, their wills, their very identities consumed, gone in a fiery blast
of the dragon's breath. The man closed his eyes again, knowing that unless he somehow 
escaped, he too would go the way of the priests.
        A sound, small but distinctive, grabbed his attention. The sound of slippered feet
moving across the wooden floor. A growing sense of dread began to fill him. The impassive
mask he normally wore failed him then, and he shuddered despite himself. Without looking,
he knew that the guards had snapped to attention, standing straighter and more rigid than
before, signaling the arrival of his tormentor once again. A part of him wished deeply 
that she would simply finish it, conclude the torture, and end his suffering, but he knew
that as much as she wanted him, she also wanted his fear, his terror. She fed on it, as
a lion in the wild feeds on young antelope. Straining to contain his fear, he opened his
eyes and looked up at her, dark normal eyes meeting strange amber ones. A smile graced
her lips, though there was no inkling of good will behind the expression. 
        "No witty comment today, my little blossom," she said serenely, glancing down at 
my bared body. "I see my Needle Dance has taken some of the sharpness from your tongue." 
She removed three needles, twirling another small needle between her fingers. "You've 
survived the dance for over six hundred and eighty two steps. Quite remarkable. I had 
thought all of your kind long gone, destroyed during all the infighting three centuries 
ago. It was a wellspring of good fortune that my servants found you among the barbarians
taken during the raid on Kyoto weeks ago." She glanced down at his body for a moment,
frowning. "Yes, quite interesting. Your special abilities intrigue me. I think we shall
finish this today. You shall become mine, and kneel at my right hand, and with you at
my side, I shall rule supreme!" She placed the needle on a patch of unmarked skin and
tapped it gently. He felt a small prick...


        And came fully awake with a gasp. Glancing around at his surroundings, Jonothan
Darke battled to control his thudding heartbeat. The shadows of his dream faded slowly,
only to be replaced by a waking nightmare. He was indeed strapped down, bound tightly
to a cold metal dais of some kind, surrounded on all sides not by wood and stone, but
by metal steel and iron. A network of computers lined the walls with cables running from
them to the platform he was confined on.  Sketi! Different era, same situation. Damn.
Another of Life's Little Ironies laughing in my face, he thought, testing his bonds 
slightly.  Not again. I won't go through this again. I refuse to!  Gathering his 
strength, he reached out to tap into the Great River.
        And instead felt a severe shock as his body was bombarded with lightning. 
Convulsing, kicking wildly through his restraints, Darke battled against the force,
trying to reach out past the pain to summon the River to his aid, but the assault 
merely increased to compensate. Fighting a losing battle, he relented, and the torment
ceased abruptly. He sighed, content merely to lie there, and let his burning flesh cool 
under the gentle waft of the mechanically induced ventilation system. Experience had
taught him not to push his luck, and his experience at PolyCorp months earlier had
shown him just how vulnerable he could be. 
        "I trust no further such demonstrations of your constraints will be necessary?"
a man spoke. Darke turned hid head as far as he could manage and caught a glimpse of
a man standing at a computer terminal located behind him. After a moment, he walked
fully into view. "I hope you won't be so foolish as to try and power your way out of
this again. These computers routinely scan your body, noting your brain activity and
bio energy signature. Any increase in activity and it responds in kind. Now, be a 
good little test subject and let me go about my work in peace."
        Jonothan licked his lips. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"
        The man inclined his head slightly to the left, indicating a darkened viewing
window. "My honored patron has found you to be a most intriguing person. She has done
much research on your 'kind', and now wishes to learn more. Ancient texts and scrolls
can only teach a person so much, you understand. Sometimes, it requires a more... hands
on approach." The man raised a hand gently, as if to touch Darke across his cheek, and
readying himself, flicked the tiniest of probes at the River. The man merely smirked,
snatching his hand away, as the machine again responded by lashing out at Darke with
blow after blow of energy. The man waited until the onslaught relented to respond.
"And then again," he said idly, "some situations require a hands OFF approach. We know
all about your strange Touch, Mr. Darke... or more correctly, Shadowdarke. I've
done my homework, and you'll not surprise me with your pathetic attempts. You'll not
turn your mind-numbing Touch on me." 
        Darke considered for a moment. "I see. You're very well informed. I can only assume
I was a bit careless in my cleaning of Janice's mind. I'm impressed. Your techniques are
more insidious than I had thought."
        The doctor gesture to an assistant, who approached with a hypodermic needle. "Don't
be. She was an abysmal failure, for all intents and purposes. You broke every tether we
placed in her mind, all of them except one. Her trainer put in a recall command, one I
myself was unaware of until just recently. It couldn't undo all the damage you did," he
said glaring at him, "but it did allow for a few hastily thought up commands to be issued
over the phone. Still, I'm surprised that she was able to pull it off. From what I've 
seen, you should have been able to detect the change in her a mile away." 
        Yes, I SHOULD have been able to detect it, Jonothan thought with dismay. 
I was distracted. I remember now... it was a feeling. A sense of increasing discord
in the Great River itself. Something I've never felt before. I was so intent on it I
didn't even notice what was going on under my nose. If I live through this and manage
to get out of here in one piece, I will have to find out what's been going on.
        He grunted slightly as the doctor's assistant took a blood sample from his arm,
then backed away and left the room. "Whatever your shortcomings, it's fortunate that
we were able to get you. My honored patron is most impatient to discover your secrets."
        "Is that all? Then release me, and invite her down, and we can talk in a civilized
manner. I'll be happy to tell you anything you want to know." 
        The doctor laughed. "What a sense of humor you have. Try not to lose it once we 
begin probing you. The process is quite painful, I'm told. No one who has undergone it
thus far has survived... but we have high hopes for you. After all, you are something 
quite special." Nodding to his assistant, the doctor stepped away from him, going to
one of the many terminals littered about the room. 
        It began. A small tingling sensation at the back of his skull, followed by a 
slight numbness through his body. The sensation built slowly, and the numbness was 
slowly replaced by a dry steady heat, as if his insides were being microwaved. Darke 
began to shift slightly, grunting, the feeling uncomfortable but not yet painful. 
        "That's the probe you're feeling," the doctor commented offhand. "It's performing
a very intensive scan of your entire cell structure, probing you down to your DNA. At
the same time, we're running several new wave intrinsic mindscanning devices, to probe
your thoughts as well. By the time we're done, we'll know everything there is to know
about you."  Of course, you'll be reduced to a vegetable, a quivering, drooling,
mindless being, in the process, the doctor thought unpleasantly.  Oh well, you
can't bake an omelet without breaking a few eggs. With almost childlike glee he
turned the probe up to level two.


        The woman lounged in her deep custom leather recliner, watching the proceedings 
with a look of indifference, as if she were already bored with the matter. Inside, however,
she was almost shaking with barely repressed glee. FINALLY! After her long, exhaustive,
and expensive search, studying ancient texts and scrolls dating back centuries, carefully
sifting golden grains of truth from the backwash of lies and misdirection... finally her
persistence had paid off. She had managed to find and capture a living specimen, an actual
Ancient One! The thought of learning his secrets, discovering the source of his powers, 
and perhaps integrating them into herself, thrilled her beyond her wildest dreams. Born
into wealth, Gifted with powers of the mind that few others possessed, it seemed that she
had everything a person could hope to achieve. But her wealth and power only made her lust
for more, to rise above her station, to obtain virtual godhood and rule over all lesser 
beings. Few things had ever been beyond her grasp; now with the capture of the Ancient
Hermit, she was confident that her reach would know no bounds.
        A soft moan escaped her lips, and she pulled her stockinged feet away from her
slave, a lower-level member of her Organization, who was busily bathing them with his
tongue. Time enough for pleasure later. There were things to do, and she couldn't afford
to be distracted. "Summon Mole to me," she purred softly to her slave. "Ask him to see 
how my little Bloodhound is doing, how her reeducation in her true role as my servant
is proceeding. By now, Wolf should have her eating out of the palm of her hand." She
turned back to the window again, staring down through the tinted glass, watching her
men work on the Ancient One below. "Have him summon her as soon as she is prepared,"
the woman added, sliding a hand between warm wet thighs. "I may have another assignment
for her soon." The young man bowed deeply, and backed out without a sound, leaving his 
Mistress to her musings.


        Misty 'Wolf' Vilkas panted in her arousal, running fingers through the fine blonde
mane of her 'student'. She spoke small encouragements to the young woman as she serviced
her sex, licking lightly and gently at Wolf's dew soaked slit. Her words drilled straight
into the pliant girl's mind, reintegrating her back into the fold, as Wolf used her
own powers to shape and mold the entranced girl's somnolent mind even more. A shudder
passed through her as her student's clever tongue teased a particularly tender spot, 
and she had to resist the urge to close her thighs and press the girl deeper into her 
steaming mound. This is just the warm up, after all, she reminded herself. Once
she's fully integrated back into the Organization again, I can have the little tart give
me a PROPER welcoming. After all, if it wasn't for my foresight and planning, placing that
recall trigger in her mind in the very beginning, she might still be out there, and the
Mistress wouldn't have her little pet to play with. It seems only fair that I get to play
with you as well, my pretty little bitch.
        She bespoke her thoughts into Janice's mind just as she had her instructions, and
the girl responded with a deep moan of pleasure. "Mmmmm. You like that, don't you, 
Bloodhound? You like it when I call you my BITCH." The girl moaned again, and the feeling
against Wolf's clit made her see sparks for a moment. "Ohhh, yesss," she sighed, "that's
what you are, my little bitch. My own sweet little puppy, to nuzzle and play with. You
LOVE being dominated by me, don't you, bitch? It excites you, makes you wetter and wetter,
making you pant like the hot little bitch you are. Lap up my juices with that tongue,
bitch," she cooed, softly, seeing sparks again as the girl's lips began to suck and nibble
on her clit. "Ooohhhh!!" she gasped in surprise. "Mmmm... I see your former Master taught 
you a few new tricks... that feels sooo good. Yeah... just keep doing that," she sighed,
leaning back into her chair, forgetting for the moment her job of reprogramming Janice's
mind. Indeed, it was getting harder and harder to think of anything beside her ever 
increasing pleasure. Her hips began to move slightly, pushing into Janice's repeated
thrusts, and the pretty colorful sparks danced before her eyes again.
        "Ohhhh, God... that feels... just heavenly," she murmured. One of her hands continued
to stroke her slave's hair, and the other slipped around to her breasts, stroking her ridged
nipples through her clothing. Images and thoughts entered her mind, and she heard herself 
speaking them aloud, talking dirty to the beautiful slut between her legs. She vaguely
remembered her before her startling transformation, the pale skin, pinched mannish face,
almost breast-less chest. Now, however, she was ravishing, a walking wet dream. A perfect
lover... HER perfect lover. "Yes... my perfect lover..." she mumbled, gazing lovingly 
at the rapturous beauty licking and sucking her so well. "Make me cum, my little bitch,"
she breathed heavily, as she began humping Janice's face. "Make me cream all over your
pretty little bitch face. Make me cum... now!" Moaning with desire herself, Janice did
just that, sucking her Teacher's clit into her mouth and bathing it with her tongue as
she slipped two fingers deep into Wolf's open cunt. 
        Her response was explosive. The orgasm that burst forth rocked her unlike any she
had ever experienced before. Back arched, breasts jutting forth, writhing in reckless
abandon, Wolf reared back her head and yelped her pleasure like her namesake. The cum 
left her dazed and open, and as she lay back, staring at the sparkling dots and circles
swimming in her vision, she heard a soft voice speaking, low and deep, teasing her 
open mind.
        "Mmm, that felt good, didn't it, Wolf?" Janice said with a grin. She stroked 
Misty's dripping snatch as she fingered her own. "All filled up with pleasure. Full
to the top. From your toes to the crown of your head with pleasure." Janice opened 
herself up to the smaller River and Touched Misty's flesh again, sending another spasm
through her. "My Touch gives you pleasure, Wolf," she chided softly, caressing and
stroking the older woman's inner thighs. "My Touch infuses you with so much fucking
pleasure, it overflows in you, washing away everything else, all of your doubts and
worries. All of your thoughts. Washed away in the never-ending torrent of pleasure that
exists in my gentle caress." She Touched the woman again, causing Wolf's legs to press
together, straining to force her hand into her gushing fountain. Janice smiled keenly,
licking the juices of Wolf's earlier desires from her lips. "It leaves you empty,"
she continued, "empty, but sated, EMPTY but loved, EMPTY but pleasured... pleasured
by me, Wolf. OWNED by me, Wolf. Yes, my obedient little wolf cub, ready to be trained."
        "Oh, yes," Wolf managed to gasp between spasms. "Yess... your.. obedient...
little... wolf cub... ready.. to be... trained... Train me, oh God TRAIN ME!"
        Janice clenched her own quivering thighs together as she came, sending her
arousal and her pleasure into Misty with her Touch, letting the River flow through
her, into Misty's now empty mind, tying her, leashing her like the rabid wolf she
was, taming her. Sighing, taking deep breaths, she got wearily to her feet.  Thank
goodness for the endless training Mr. Darke put me through. After dealing with him, 
breaking Wolf's meager control was a snap. And to think, she is one of the strongest
mind in the Organization! I never noticed it myself, but my own Talent has grown. I
may never be up to Darke's level, but I'm not the helpless little 'grunt' was when
I first arrived here.
        The door opened, and a tall lanky man short, brown hair and thick glasses walked
in. He looked over at Misty, lying prone in her chair, a deep smile etched on her face,
and at Janice kneeling down on the floor, naked, her face shiny with wetness. Shaking
his head, he turned back to the door. "Damn it, Wolf, play on your own time. The Mistress
wants to see Bloodhound as soon as she's ready. Pull yourselves together and clean up.
She's expecting a status report when I get back. For your sake, I'll forget about this.
Just remember, you owe me a personal favor in the future." The door closed and locked.
        Bloody piss! That was a close one. Moving quickly, Janice dressed herself
and revived Misty. "Okay, my little wolf cub, I need information, and I need it fast. 
The man with me, the one they took away--- where was he taken?"
        Misty looked down up at her lover with adoring eyes. "They took him down to the
main laboratory, in the third basement. With what they plan on doing, the needed the
privacy."
        Janice's eyes narrowed. "And just what is it they plan on doing to him?"
        "Well, I'm no scientist or doctor or anything," Misty said frowning. "I don't know
what the process will involve, but the Owner wants to experiment on him, find out what
makes him tick, and see if its something she can duplicate in herself." She sighed when
she saw Janice's stricken look. "I'm sorry, Janice. I... I know you.. cared for him.
No one has ever survived the Probe. It analyzes by ripping its subject to pieces and
scooping up the pieces."
        Janice stood there, stunned, feeling as if someone had just poleaxed her. Jonothan
Darke, her Master, her lover, her guardian and guide. Ripped apart? Dismembered? Shredded
to a pulp? The thought made her nauseous.  NO. I refuse to accept that. I won't let
it happen. It WONT happen. He's still alive for the moment. My tracking sense can still
detect him.. somewhere below ground. A sub-basement. The underground laboratory, of course.
Somehow, I've got to get to him before it's too late.


        High above London, aboard TransAtlantic flight 2307, Shelley Preston jerked awake.
Her heart was racing, and sweat ran down her brow like rain. A stewardess noticing her 
discomfort, made her way over to her. "Evening miss," she said politely, "is there 
something I can do for you? You seem in awful way."
        "I'm fine," Shelley breathed after a few moments. Images flashed in front of her
eyes, and she shook her head to banish them. "I'm fine," she repeated, almost as if to
convince herself. "Could you bring me a drink of water please? My mouth's gone dry. Oh,
and if you don't mind, I'd like to make a phone call. It's very urgent."
        "Right away mum," the stewardess replied, reaching over and handing her one of the
portable TRAC Phones from her station, and a bottle of spring water. "Let me know if you
need anything else."
        Shelly smiled. "No thank you, I'm fine now, really." She waited until the woman 
walked away to let the smile fade. Her hands shook as she removed the number from her
purse and dialed the number on the list. At the moment, she felt anything BUT fine.
        A series of beeps and clicks sounded as the call was bounced from server to
server, and finally a gruff older man answered. "Hello? Who is this? This is an unsecured
location. How did you get this number?"
        "Is this.. is this the... Colonel Benson?" she asked hesitantly. What was she doing
anyway? It had been a dream, just a dream. She was overreacting. "Colonel Benson, this
is Shelley Preston. I think... I believe you may know me through a mutual acquaintance
of ours?"
        There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, then the gravelly voice spoke
again. "Yes, Ms. Preston. He HAS spoken to me of you, and at great length. I was under
the impression that you had been... removed from the current equation. How is it that
you are calling me?"
        "It's.. shit, its a long story. All I can tell you is that he told me when the time
was right I'd remember. And time is definitely of the essence. He's.. he in trouble. Big
trouble."
        "Okay, calm down," Colonel Benson said soothingly, "Tell me what's going on, and
how I can help. First of all, where is he?"
        "I don't know!" she all but screamed, then calmed herself, taking a deep breath.
"Sorry. I don't know where he is. I'm aboard an airliner heading for London at the moment,
looking for him." She took another deep breath to steady herself. "I know this may sound
really strange, but... I drifted off to sleep on the long flight, and I dreamed. I dreamed
he was being held somewhere, being tortured, mad scientists trying to dissect him or 
something. I don't know. All I know is that he was calling out to me. He was in pain."
        "I see," the voice commented softly. "I won't bother to tell you it's most likely
just a bad dream, we both know its a possibility. But with the Chief, anything is
possible. He is three days overdue from our last scheduled contact, and to be honest I
was considering sending out the scouts to see if anything was wrong."
        Three days? "Send them," she croaked, trying to contain her fear. "Send them now.
And hope to God it's not to late. The dream..." Shelley let out a small sob.
        "Yes," the Colonel prompted impatiently. "What about the dream?"
        "In the dream," she said a moment later, "they were killing him. He was dying."
((End))