Chapter Three: A Plan was Forged

Marcus was more than happy with how things had worked out with Jessica. She was perfect for him. All of this was part of his plan he had worked upon for months, was part of his hunger to form females to obedient sexual objects for men by force.

This downfall from safe, sane, and consensual BDSM towards sexual abuse had started half a year ago on a fetish party. He had been a fierce advocate of ‘safe, sane, and consensual’ back then and held discussions about that at munches, parties, and meetings with likeminded people of the BDSM scene.

He had the habit of only visiting parties with private invitations, meaning a controlled private group, or if they were mask events where anonymity was preserved - so called Masques. Of course this had to do with his job and the reputation he had to uphold for it. No one would want a professor in a highly exposed position that openly lived such a life style.

It had happened on an event party centered around the theme ‘Eyes wide shut’. Robes and masks were worn by everyone except the slaves which were mostly naked but also masked. Of course such an occasion had been a perfect stage for another of his discussions. In a side room he talked about where consent was forced by pressure and emotions, or how submission could be abused.

Two men that gave him a very hard time were present on this night. They seemed to know each other well and were on a strict unshakable course. For them there was no abuse in it to make a female ‘be female’ as they phrased it. For them a woman was submissive and by nature inferior. A very misogynistic point of view.

But exactly such cases were why he did this. Such discussions, provided they stayed civil, were always very interesting to conduct and often lead to stimulating exchanges. That had been his experience in the past. So he had invited the two to a table far away from the on goings of the event after the open discussion was over.

They seated themselves in broad brown leather armchairs placed in a half circle around a dark wooden table in a room that looked like a trophy room of a hunter. High ceilings, large windows nearly from floor to ceiling, and as big wooden doors that could be rolled open sideways making them vanish in the wall formed the stage for walls laden with stuffed heads of animals domestic and foreign.

The two had called themselves Mr. A and Mr. B the whole evening and he had introduced himself as Mr. M. They kept to this naming and even left their masks up while they talked.

Mr. A was a muscle laden man of the dominant species that was into leather. He wore a black leather shirt and fitting tight leather pants with a broad leather belt fastened by a big silver buckle. This and his very short military cut black hair made him look rather aggressive despite his under average height of maybe 1,70 meters.

Mr. B on the other hand was nearly 1,90 meter tall and of average built which made him look somewhat skinny on the one hand and his cheaper run of the mill suit look too big to be fitting on the other. He made that shortcoming up with a distinctive voice and very controlled body language.

“I think it’s a barrier in the exploration of the female side and your own dominance if you put up borders of consent. The female does not even know where her limits truly are,” Mr. A had opened their private talk.

“Exactly,” Mr. B had chimed in, “Females are by nature nurturing and submissive. It is in their instincts and genes. Its imprinted. How far that goes, they do not know themselves because it is covered up and veiled by accepted morals of civilization. In their core though beneath that, they are still wild and driven by what nature has made them for.”

“You can’t be seriously reducing women to animals from the stone age,” he had replied, “All those years of evolution that made up what we call society can’t be in vain. We are all humans with the same rights. Taking away consent violates that,” he had brought up the hardest argument against such views.

“But BDSM is about exploring our depths on both sides, M. Barriers bring a stop to that. Additionally this limits and consent talk is giving the submissive all the power. Power she can’t handle or even use right as she does not know where the voyage goes to. She can’t reach full submission,” Mr. A chiseled from a different point of view which made Mr. B nod in agreement.

“BDSM only works on the base of mutual consent or you are breaking the law. Only mutual respect and trust can form a base on which its working well. I do not say you need to love her but liking is needed along with that. We all know it,” he had sighed, “Safe, sane, and consensual is the way to go or there is danger for the health of the submissive. If done right, she will allow deeper exploration by shedding limits on her own terms in time.”

Those men were, like him now, convinced there was a natural order of men being above women. That was not unusual among dominants at all, but they went way farther, claiming women should serve and be as men wanted in every detail at any time without question. They thought it was a privilege of men to show females that and take what they wanted.

This went on for two hours. More and more he had seen their point. Somehow it was a fascinating thought experiment to imagine how far one could go, what methods one could employ in a relationship that was enforced and had no limits by morals or laws. And that was where they went, into a hypothetical way of bringing that pure female nature out.

Without realizing it he had left the sane path in his mind that night even though they had not come to any consensus in their talks. For him it was still a thought experiment nothing else. But it had laid the foundation of a radical change within himself.

They had parted on friendly terms and wanted to continue the talk with fresh arguments when they met again. A month later another of these events was planned and all three had agreed to be there to continue this fascinating debate and discourse into possibilities without limits.

In that month he had only thought about procedures to treat girls with to reduce them to their instinctive female core. His field of expertise was ideal for that. A mixture of even now still used torture methods combined with a strict reward for expected actions scenario framed by mental and physical exhaustion and indoctrination seemed to be the best way. That was hypothetical of course, or not?

He started to doubt his way of safe, sane, and consensual more and more. Was it the end of the possibilities? Were Mr. A and Mr. B right in their claim it made it impossible to fully explore ones dominance and the submission of the female? Why would the submissive part determine where the limits were? Was the male not the strong dominant part? Did he not have the justified right to take the lead by his position?

Of course he neglected his own experience that typically the submissive woman was the strongest he had encountered. It needed so much trust and inner strength to give oneself in that way completely. Human rights were not neglected by BDSM, it should not go there. Humans did evolve for a reason into sexes with equal rights as it should be.

Still thinking this through was somehow fascinating for him and the prospects of such power were alluring next to the scientific aspect of peeling away civilization and what one would find underneath.

So they met again wearing masks as before. Somehow all of them felt safe in that way of preserving some anonymity. After all the topic implicated breaking laws even if it was still just a discussion. They never exchanged private information, kept calling each other by that one letter names.

This time it was him nearly holding a monologue about the human psyche and methods to train and indoctrinate. It was like giving one of his University lessons. Surprisingly it looked like the two knew it all as if they had thought a long time about it already. Were they one step ahead?

“To peel away morals and civilization the first step is to objectify the female. Take away all rights, all shame. Even the basic needs should be only granted for acceptable behavior,” he had said, “This will over time erase any thoughts about equality and basic rights.”

“Exactly. And of course a strict reward and punishment system focusing on sexual behavior needs to be enforced upon her to guide the process into the right direction of the treatment. The result should be a completely obedient slave after all,” Mr. B had added with Mr. A nodding along.

“Yes, the regular submissive training needs to be done but harder, without any way out. Additionally a certain psychological torture and indoctrination is needed: sound and silence, rituals, constant reminding and reiteration of key phrases, lack of sleep, physical and mental stress,” he had rounded up an inhumane scenario that would reduce a female to her sexual and instinctive core.

“Do not forget to ‘Stockholm’ the object so they stay sane and have someone to cling to while programming it to serve all men without hesitation,” Mr. A had brought up a point that was already passing hypothetical conversation but was leading towards a plan.

“Actually this would not be too hard to do if one had a place away from society to do it. And there are many people vanishing. If planned right one could do this,” Mr. B had smugly explained, “All that is needed is a way to catch and to get rid of them and some funds. The result could be easily sold on the Asian slave market if one has connections. Maybe over the dark net.”

He had been taken aback by this. It had shocked him to the bone. The two were actually ready and willing to not only talk, but act. He had hastily fled the discussion and headed home leaving the two behind. For a moment he had played with the thought to call in the authorities on the two unaware of the fact that a FBI agent already was on their tails.

He had banned these thoughts and discussions from his mind for some time and gone into working hard. But again and again it came back to him. The two men were dangerous, but their thoughts were oddly appealing.

The high dropout rate made pupils vanish overnight fleeing the stress. Often the families only got to know about that and where they went the next semester or the next time they met up. Who could tell where some ended up?

His basic course in educational sciences was part of all major study lines, so most of the students passed by his eyes. He could screen all of them easily. He was good at that, after all he had worked with government institutions on profile and screening methods in the past.

These facts had made him think about and formulate a plan. He had made the step from hypothetical thought to actual experiment. He wanted to try it.

So he had decided to let his contacts in the scene find out the names of the two men. He knew who sent the invitations to those events. He also had former students that worked in positions that could find out most things about anyone he could give a name of that was not government protected.

So it took him only two weeks to find out that Mr. A was thirty two years old and owned a car tuning facility in Chicago which was mostly frequented by Asian customers, especially the shady kind. This paired up well with the prospects mentioned by Mr. B on the last meeting about the Asian slave markets. It seemed the two were really already in a planning stage.

A short search into Asian forums of the dark kind told him that “Western Wares” that were completely obedient were actually highly sought for there. So Mr. A had contacts and means for transportation. A fact that made Marcus get more excited about it all. Everything seemed to fall into place.

Mr. B. turned out to be forty and living in Woodborough. He was a software programmer and had been convicted once for hacking and seemed to be associated with contacts in the dark net. Now Marcus was completely sure the two were not only talking, but were exactly what he needed to try this experiment. It actually could become a viable business.

The fact that both men lived at the limits of their financial means and were needing money badly was then the last straw for him. It made them dependent partners if the operation was yielding money. Money and life style were a sure choke hold over people. He knew that.

He had let a distant friend invite them to a private party. It was again one using anonymous masks. But instead of a meeting on the party he had intercepted them in front of the premises in a rental car.

“I think we three need to talk away from any possibilities of people listening in,” he had said. Only minutes later the three were driving off masked and silent in the car to his old hunting lodge, his hideout as he called it, about thirty kilometers deep into the forest west of Woodborough. It was as far away from civilization as one could get around here.

The barely used gravel and dirt road ended at a rundown red brick wall garage. The roof was leaking and in need of repair, the wooden door hung in its hinges. He parked in front of it. It cowered hidden under large trees. All around was debris, old tires, and wild growing bushes.

A nearly overgrown path lead fifty meters deeper into the woods to the main building. Naked and partly damaged bare stone walls with blind glass windows and a big iron reinforced door reached up to a high wooden roof. Again the trees overshadowed even this structure. Neither buildings would be found from air easily.

Silently he had shown the other two men around the premises he owned which was surrounded by a broken hip high nature stone wall until they reached the back of the hideout. Stairs led down to a reinforced bunker steel door. He opened it and inside were the remnants of an old private nuclear bunker from the 1950ies.

“Yes, this is all mine. I planned to use the lodge for private occasions. Down here all that is needed is to fix the water supply and the old generator then it is usable,” he gestured at the four rooms, “Ideal as padded silent room, interrogation room, industrial shower room, and training room,” he pointed out, his voice muffled from under the mask which all three of them still wore.

He could read in their body language that they were surprised but utterly intrigued by the location and its possibilities. They took closer looks into every corner and at the equipment that was there already.

“The garage just needs a brush up. The roof needs to be fixed and new door installed. The surroundings and fence wall could use a cleanup. The lodge seems to be a perfect cover for random people passing by,” Mr. A mumbled and Mr. B nodded, then added: “And down here all we talked about can be installed. This is perfect but it will need some money. Plus where to get the female objects?” he expressed the last doubts.

“Well for one we need someone with connections to sell and move merchandise,” he said smugly knowing the answer but not letting it on. He did not want them to know how much he had found out about them. Let them keep their false sense of security, he had told himself.

“I have that. And plenty of it. I can provide untraceable transport and know people that want such ‘things’ we would produce,” Mr. A replied, turning towards him crossing his arms in front of his chest. It was his move to let the other two know, he was in on the operation and also offering his resources.

“Then we need someone for communication and maybe contacts over darker ways in the net to arrange sales of product or even auctions,” he said. This was his way to tickle Mr. B without directly revealing he knew about it.

“That is the part I can arrange. Prepaid phones, Dark Net site, and knowledge about technical installations we would need,” Mr. B admitted and mimicked Mr. A’s pose also turning towards him. This was a crucial moment with a lot of tension.

“As you see, I do have the location. I also have the funds. Leaves the hunting ground. I work at the University. It has a huge dropout rate and many students just leave without a word. I can screen the herd and find targets in my job,” he did not give specifics, but he sounded very sure and confident. It was enough to make them believe it was fact.

“Damn. Then we have a deal, M. We are in,” Mr. B said and both men shook hands with him. They accepted his leadership in this by the way they phrased things and acted. And that would become more clear every passing week. It was him having the main organization in his hands since he had the place, funds, and source of training objects.

They agreed on Mr. B providing phones for them and setting up a Dark Net site. Mr. A was to find a good vehicle, preferably a van, and get it prepared for the pickup job and transport. They would organize all things needed for the bunker over different sources delivered to different destinations piece by piece so no one could figure out what was built and where.

The work on the surroundings and buildings they would share. They agreed upon staying anonymous, only work alone or if together wearing masks, and to keep using their short names. It was the start of something sinister. But all three felt comfortable with the arrangement. There was a certain energy and tensed anticipation in the group.

All of this had come to his mind as he prepared and set up his next steps for Jessica. He was nearly sure by now she would not go into the bunker but remain his. Still she was ideal to test some of the physical and psychological means they would employ later in their new business. A different first training object would be found soon, he was sure about that.