Description

Daddy’s Forced Sex Slave Mind Controlled Daughter, by Jezebel Rose

Elizabeth was watching Jacky peck at her salad. Both had just tried out, unsuccessfully, for the new dance venue at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Elizabeth had begged off ordering lunch, saying she had already eaten. The truth: she was out of money.

Jacky, who had recently been in the same circumstance, recognized Elizabeth’s hungry look and thinking that Elizabeth was just the kind of desperate girl Harry had told her to be on the look-out for, the kind who, if they worked out, would earn Jacky a crisp $100.00 Ronny, slid the salad across the table.

“My eyes were bigger than my stomach, do you want some? It won’t sit well in the frig, and I hate wasting food.”

“Sure, thanks,” said Elizabeth, who ate just enough to dull her hunger and then, worrying about her weight – how many calories were in that salad dressing Jacky had gooped all over the lettuce – pushed the plate away.

“C’mon, why don’t you come down tonight? They’re looking for new girls and the money’s great.”

Elizabeth was depressed, friendless and lonely, about to be booted from her filthy boarding house because she could not pay the rent, out of money, no job prospects, no place to go. While the thought of a roomful of drunken men staring at her as she stripped was repulsive, it was better than living on the streets or returning to her father.

It was 3:00 A.M. Josh Allen, for the thousandth time, reviewed his life, while Ronny Garrett, his friend and head of security at Allen Enterprises, worked several computers and a couple of phones.

Josh had loved Sasha. They were cut from the same cloth, high school sweethearts from middle-class families. They had married young; she had had Elizabeth right away and then became his biggest cheerleader as he, harnessing the power of the internet before his competitors even knew it existed, turned the family florist shop into a national delivery service. With costs at near zero, profits poured, and Josh expanded into an array of down-market products that other online retailers ignored.

However, success had a price. Josh told himself that if he was faithful and he had been and made a lot of money he was a good husband. He was usually on the road or at the office and when home the job came with him. Living in a world of money and society wholly new to him, infatuated with his success, he was the was king of the hill, the hot new thing. His wife, a small town girl, was uncomfortable in this new world, isolated, and lonely, lived for two things, their daughter and, increasingly, a dangerous drug habit.

Garrett had tried to warn him, but Allen, too busy to pay real attention, would accept his wife’s bland assurances that everything was under control before scurrying off to the next deal. Then he got the phone call, Sasha was in the hospital. She never got out.

Elizabeth blamed him; he blamed himself and, mired in depression and self-loathing, he was unavailable to Elizabeth when, grieving the loss of her mother, she most needed him. Instead, as he had with Sasha, he substituted money for care, further widening the rift between them. When Elizabeth declared she wanted no part of his world and threatened to drop out of high school, she was sent to an expensive boarding school. When she got herself kicked out of it and said she wanted to be a ballerina, she was enrolled at the best school in the country. However, while talented, she had started far too late to succeed in one of the most competitive fields in the world.

She developed an eating disorder; the expensive treatment facilities had temporary successes.

By the time Josh understood his mistake, it was too late, his attempts at reconciliation stillborn in the face of Elizabeth’s unremitting hostility. At eighteen, she declared herself independent, took her mother’s maiden name Blondell, and moved to Las Vegas to make it as a dancer.

Through it, all Garrett kept close tabs on her. Also, so far, he had reported, she had avoided drugs. However, Garrett was not optimistic.

Sitting there, Josh recalled his friend’s words: “Boss, so far so good, but she’s got an addictive personality: impulsive, sensation-seeking, parades her non-conformity, socially alienated, compulsive. We should be worried.”

Garrett put down the phones, turned to his friend.

“She auditioned at the MGM, didn’t get the job we talked to the hiring guy; he was like all the rest. Says she’s a good dancer, but she dances like a ballerina, and they want something more…”

Josh saw his friend pace, understood why, and said, “C’mon Ronny, you can tell it.”

“… sexual. She has been starving herself again; he said she had the build of an eight-year-old boy. My people thanked him; let him know we would make it worth his while if he hired her for the next show.

“After she was cut she ate lunch with a fellow dancer named Jacky Johnson. We could not get close enough to hear the conversation. Elizabeth went back to the boarding house, told the property owner she had a job that night and would be able to pay the rent. She went to a strip club named Heavenly Bodies, met Jacky, they went backstage.”

Elizabeth had been dancing in stilettos for six hours. She was exhausted, everything hurt; the men were fat and ugly, the place stank, and her tips, especially compared to the other dancers, scant. Jacky suggested she try looking happier on stage and when asked for a lap dance, put her heart, soul, and rump into it, but Elizabeth could not fake it. She hated the place, the men, hell she did not even like sex.

She said she was leaving, but the manager, backed by a heavily muscled bouncer, said he promised his public an even dozen dancers and he would deliver an even dozen dancers.

During a short break, Jacky laid out a line of cocaine.

“Hey Elizabeth, take a hit, it will get you through the night.”

Elizabeth, haunted by the memory of her mother, had never tried the drug, but tonight, depressed and desperate, she did.

At the end of her shift, the manager said she needed a better attitude, she should show some enthusiasm, and then pawing her breasts, suggested a clinic that could turn those tiny titties into happy handfuls that would make Elizabeth real money. High on the cocaine she slapped him and stormed out, leaving most of her tips behind.

The manager was sitting with Harry, the bouncer, counting the take.

“You sure she’ll call.”

“Yeah, I gave Jacky top-of-the-line shit. Elizabeth will be coming down from it any minute. When she does she will be desperate for more, call Jacky, who will give her another hit. She’ll be hooked, and the only way she’ll be able to afford it is to run drugs for us.”

The door to the office opened. Two imposing uninvited men stepped in.

Garrett said, “She’s had other opportunities to dance topless, but turned them down. That she was willing to do so last night, well, Josh, she is at the end of her rope, she is worn out.

“Heavenly Bodies was a typical operation, it hooks the dancers on coke; the drug keeps them in a good mood, let’s them dance all night, and the girls spend the money they make dancing buying drugs from the club or, if they fail as dancers, run drugs in exchange for a daily fix. Elizabeth snorted some and then left the club after a fight with the manager. When she started to come down, she texted Jacky, looking for more, then called her ninety seconds later – she must have been desperate – and found the line disconnected. She called the club, got the same result. We’d shut the place down.”

“Boss we can only do so much. Elizabeth is not coming home on her own, and there are a million sources of drugs out there. She’ll find another way to get them; it’s only a matter of time.”

Allen leaned back, studied the ceiling, and recalled the image of his wife in the hospital.

“And you’re confident that Pike’s getting the results he advertises?”

“We punched through his computer’s security, checked his raw data. It looks perfect.”

“Okay, call the hanger, get the plane ready, let Pike know we’re on our way.”

Garrett’s operative entered Elizabeth’s room, rendered her unconscious.

During the flight, Allen studied the purloined information. Garrett was right; Pike’s results were as good as advertised.

Elizabeth was squirming in bed. She could not focus, her skin itched, she needed a hit, just one, to clear her mind, then she would quit, she would not end up like her mother. Her texted Jacky; when she did not immediately respond Elizabeth called, odd, Jacky’s phone was disconnected. She called the club, the same thing. Was there something wrong with her phone? She could get dressed, go to the club, but what kind of reception would she get? She tried to sleep, but she wanted another hit. She did not hear the man enter her room.

The next morning the property owner found Elizabeth’s room empty. That a tenant had disappeared in the middle of the night was not unusual, many of the girls who came to Vegas looking for fame and fortune snuck away, out of money, dreams broken. What was unusual was that Elizabeth left the place spit-spot clean and an envelope with a sweet note giving the required thirty days’ notice and fresh enough $100.00 Ronny to pay both the back and next month’s rent.

Everything being in order, the property owner didn’t report the disappearance to the police and so didn’t notice that the lease, with her tenant’s picture and background information, was no longer in her files.

Josh Allen and Ronny Garrett were ushered into Pike’s beautiful private conference room, full of wood and leather, where Pike was waiting with his two stunning assistants, Milliyana, from Pike’s native Japan, and Ayamee, an almost jet black Nigerian.

“Good to see you again Ronny and a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Allen.”

“Good to meet you, Dr. Pike, Ronny’s been telling me about your operation here. He’s impressed.”

“He’s very kind.”

“He’s also almost always right. Now, why don’t you tell me how all this works.”

“The brain has pleasure centers, areas that become intensely active when a person experiences something pleasing. One way to think about this is that the brain is reacting to positive external stimuli, but it is just as true to say that the brain creates the pleasure, and then its person credits the stimuli. Let me demonstrate.”

On a monitor behind Dr. Pike, a group of mice dashed to a bowl of water, fleeing after a quick taste. The scene replayed itself, but this time the mice drank desperately.

“On both occasions, the mice were equally thirsty and the water equally rancid. However, the second time a magnetic field was stimulating the pleasure centers of the mice’s brains. When it did the mice,” Pike gestured to the monitor, where the mice were still drinking, “found the contaminated water delicious. Right now they are drinking far past the point they would ordinarily find comfortable. Therefore, in this case, the water is not causing pleasure – the water is terrible – it is the brain that is causing the water to be pleasurable.

“The effect is cumulative. In response to positive stimuli, the pleasure centers rewire themselves. The connections between existing neurons multiply and strengthen; new neurons are created and go through the same process.”

As Garrett placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and Josh Allen, in a voice a ton lower than his normal speaking voice, said, “As I understand it, that’s what happened to Sasha. In response to the drugs her brain rewired itself, increasingly identifying the drugs as pleasant until the craving for them overwhelmed everything else.”

Pike, not naturally a compassionate man, did his best to act like one and said, “That’s correct sir and, at the risk of sounding callous, let me show you what we’ve done with this fact.”

Ayamee and Milliyana placed two trays of water and two cages of mice on the table. Pike dipped a fingertip in one bowl, tasted it, and said, “This is fresh water. Go ahead, gentlemen.”

Garrett, then Allen, tried the water. It was light, delicious.

Pike dipped a finger in the other bowl, brought it to his mouth, and, with a frown said, “This is the rancid water, but don’t worry gentlemen, it won’t harm you.”

Garrett tried the water, said, “He’s right boss.” Allen did the same, agreed.

Pike continued. “These mice have not had anything to drink in twenty-four hours. The first group is the controls; we have not experimented on them. Watch what happens when I slide the water into the cage.”

The foul water went in. First, the mice sniffed the air, most backed away, and a few brave ones approached it, dipped a tongue in, and then hurried to join their fellows crouching on the far side of the cage. When Pike pushed the palatable water into the cage, a couple of the mice crept towards it, took a quick taste, and, joined by their compatriots, drank eagerly.

Gesturing to the second cage, Dr. Pike said, “Over the past six months these mice have had the pleasure centers of their brains stimulated whenever they drank foul water, but we’re not stimulating them now. Watch what happens.”

When the pure water was placed in the cage, the mice sniffed the air and, despite their deep thirst, backed away, instead of feasting on the unsavory water when offered them.

“What I’ve shown you is widely known. When you stimulate the brain’s pleasure centers not only does the brain register whatever it’s person is doing as pleasant, the neurons of the pleasure centers rework and strengthen their connections. Eventually a person, even without stimulation, identifies the event as charming, looks forward to it, repeats it. As we did with the second group of mice, you can permanently change people’s preferences, but it takes immense amounts of time.

“Our breakthrough is simple to understand although, I assure you, was immensely challenging to implement. We developed a mix of compounds, which exponentially increase neuron growth. We pack this into buck balls, which Ayamee perfected. Her buck balls have two unique qualities. First, they are almost indestructible. If I injected you with, ten million they would visit every part of your body and flush out within a week. If we strained your urine, we would find every single one. Second, they are attracted to magnetic fields and, in the right kind of track, discharge their contents. What this means is that when we stimulate the pleasure centers of the brain with magnets, the buck balls flock to the area and flood it with a broth that accelerates neuron growth. You expose your subject to the stimuli you want, turn on the magnets, and you can practically watch the brain rewire itself to favor the chosen incentives.

“It was once thought that the brain stops making neurons when we become adults, but we now know that the progenitor section of the brain creates neurons throughout our lifetimes. These new neurons serve several functions, most importantly in memory. At night we stimulate this portion of the brain, increasing the generation of new neurons and so strengthen the minds of the day’s events, further attaching the subject to the stimuli we designate.

Allen said, “Ronny told you that my daughter recently used, and enjoyed, cocaine. Will, your process make her forget how much she liked it.”

“Not exactly, she’ll remember that she liked it, but it will be a fact, like recalling the name of your president. She will not recall the actual sensation, and she will have no present desire for it. Whatever addictive effect it had will be eliminated as we hardwire her new preferences.”

The conversation turned to more mundane topics, schedules, progress reports, and payment, until Pike, surprised that Allen had not yet raised the issue that most of his clients started with, looked to Ayamee, thinking the inquiry best came from a woman. Ayamee, understanding Pike’s glance, said, “What physical transformations, modifications do you…”

Allen interrupted her. “Ronny will handle that. While he does may I tour the facility?”

Pike said, “Of course, Milliyana, please show our guest around.”

Garrett handed Pike a disc providing the details of what was desired of Elizabeth. “I put this together with Josh, I believe it contains all the information you’ll require but if there is any doubt or question, or if anything is unclear, don’t guess, call me, I’ll handle it. I know you must think he is a terrible hypocrite, willing to turn his daughter over to you but not discuss her with you, but he still blames himself, I think far too much, for what happened. He is ashamed. While I convinced him you’re his last best hope, he’ll never be ready to discuss his daughter’s body with a stranger.”

As he waited for his friend to return Garrett thought of the things he had not told Pike. Sasha’s death and Elizabeth’s estrangement had left his friend tried and lonely, ready to step away from his company’s day-to-day operations, to find a woman to share his life with, but he had loved only two women in his life. One was gone. Elizabeth remained.

When Elizabeth sat up the motion detector engaged the lighting system, flooding the windowless room with harsh light. The room, white and antiseptically clean, featured the barest of necessities, bed, chair, small table, toilet, and all metal and bolted to the floor. She got up, covered her naked body with a sheet, and walked to what appeared to be a door. There was no handle, and while she could make out its frame, she could not force her fingers around it; it was sealed shut. What was going on? The only explanation she could imagine was that someone, having discovered her bastard of a father’s identity, had kidnaped her and was holding her for ransom. Dear Daddy was not he the gift that kept on giving.

As the hours ticked by Elizabeth, with nothing to do but contemplate her situation, began to allow fear to occupy her mind. She searched her space, did it again, looking for anything she could use to escape or which would provide a clue as to where she was.

Panic finally took over, she yelled for someone to come, but besides the echo of her voice, heard nothing. She pressed her ear to the door, but the only sound was the mechanical rumble of the place itself. She crawled back into her bed and cried herself to an exhausted sleep.

The lights came on and Elizabeth, semi-dazed, heard what sounded like high heels clicking across the floor. Deciding it was best, for the moment, to observe, she cracked open her eyes.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

---

Scroll up and buy Daddy’s Forced Sex Slave Mind Controlled Daughter here on my author’s website now!

Buy on my distribution retailer’s site here!