From Cucked Husband to Sub Wife Ch. 30

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Chapter 30 Memory Recovery Project

The next morning, I woke up refreshed and relieved. It was Wednesday; I knew Daddy would be at the clinic early. We would be gone for three weeks; so, he had clients to settle with subs checks to sign, etc. I got up leisurely; I had taken a month’s family leave for the wedding and honeymoon. I went from room to room reacquainting myself with our own house and our things, reassuring myself I was safe.

As I toured our huge apartment remembering the events from our lives here, the idea of memory was very much on my mind because of the lost days with Roger. I remembered first delivering to Mrs. Smith all those years ago, when I first saw Daddy’s big dick; the Lori chronicles shot in the same sitting room, where we seduced the Samuelsons; all the time spent in the playroom.

I was zoned out on the past, when the intercom buzzed me back to reality. I was thrown for a second, but when it went off again, I remembered Angel was coming this morning to help me with last minute wedding preparations.

“Oh, my God! Miche, what a gruesome episode. He’s not coming to the wedding, is he?”

“No, no, no! Daddy, told him never to darken our doorstep again. I have never seen him so angry.”

“No fuckin’ kiddin’, that asshole almost sold your ass. So, what did he do with you for four days?”

“Honestly, I can only remember most of Friday night and waking up yesterday morning. I think he roofied me and kept me half-conscious the whole time. It’s really freaky, I recall snippets of things, but no details, just fussy images and sensory information.”

“Oh shit! You should go see my friend Camille, she’s a hypnotist. I quit smoking with her; one session; I quit just like that. I bet she can help you remember, if you really want to. I’ll text her, whadda ya think?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t really want to remember, but what if it keeps coming up when I don’t want it to. It happened twice last night and right as I was coming, both times.”

“Bummer! what if that’s the trigger? Oh, that would suck, girl!”

I called Daddy, he was in the best mood I think I had ever experienced. “Sure, he didn’t see any problem with going to the hypnotist. He wanted to find out what else that monster did to me.”

He had to get back to work; “bye, Sissygirl.” I pause here, just to say how much I loved his new nickname for me. It made feel all gooey inside. I loved being his “Sissygirl.”

“All right, text your friend,” I told Angel.

“Okay, she says, she could see us right away. She’s just down in the East Village.” She said five minutes after sending the text.

We got in a cab, and were walking into a hoardery cold-water flat in Alphabet City in ten minutes. The place had a total hippie vibe–a mixture of old weed smoke and Pyramid Patchouli incense. Camille was a very sweet, cherubic looking woman, with long blonde natural hair and a round moon face.

We walked into her front room, really the same as the kitchen and the rest of the apartment, separated from the rest by a line of bookcases. On a small side table next to the couch was the requisite bong, with a recently smoked bowl. This was also her and her husband’s bedroom as the couch was also a sleeper. She wasn’t personally slovenly, but they kept house… sparingly; the couch/bed bore the distinct aroma of a fresh-fucked pussy, with perhaps a soupçon of ass.

I would have been content to smile quietly to myself about it; but Angel, never one to hold anything back, was blunt and honest–one of my favorite of her traits.

“Jeez, Cammie! What were you, just fucking in here?!”

Camille snickered sheepishly and admitted she just had “a bit of sesh” with her husband, before he went to work. She blushed beet red, but was very casual about it. Her husband Ray was a PI; he had been a police detective when they met, and she helped him solve a rape case by hypnotizing the victim. Now, Cammie helped him in the PI business; this was their main gig, though she still helped people quit smoking, and the like.

“Michelle… Angie says you want to recover a memory?”

“Well, uhm… yes, you see… I was drugged and kidnapped a few days ago; I am missing three days, but bits of memory keep coming back to me. I just want to try to remember what happened.”

“Oh, that’s terrible, honey! Did you call the cops?”

“No!… it’s complicated… we don’t want to draw attention. I just want to know what happened.”

“You say, you were drugged? Do you know what he used?”

“No… not for sure, but I think it was Rohypnol. I’ve been roofied before, and I know you could be semi-conscious on it. The first time, I had memories that I thought were my imagination.”

“Yeah, same thing happened to me at a frat party in college. The best thing to do is to try to recreate conditions of the event before hypnosis. This is not quite the same, but it might help. Take a hit of this.” She handed me the bong and reloaded the bowl.

This “hair-of-the-dog” bursa escort logic made sense to me. So, I leaned in, as she lit the bowl and sucked the smoke into lungs and held it there. She warned me not to hit too hard; I could tell it was really good shit, but I still pulled as much as I could; I figured to simulate the effects of a roofie was going to take a mighty big hit.

“Okay, now relax and tell me what you’ve remembered so far.” I told her some of what Roger had done before I conked out and some of the snippets I managed to remember since. She had me try to recall more, and I could only get hints that were not materially describable.

“Okay, so first of all, be calm and make your mind a blank. Concentrate on nothing at all.” This may sound easy, but it seemed impossible to do; thoughts intruded, even as I tried to stop them. She stood up and pulled down a film screen in front of the bookcase wall. She flicked on a projector and tapped her tablet. It projected a tiny black dot in the center of the screen.

“Focus your attention on this dot, and just relax; think only of the black dot.”

Almost imperceptibly, the black dot grew larger. It got to be as large as the screen with glacial lethargy and then just as slowly shrunk back to its tiny size.

“Just relax… easy! You are safe. Slowly close your eyes, but keep the black dot in your mind.”

I faded out, but I could still hear her gentle voice guiding me. “Michelle, describe what you remember.”

“I was in a room with harsh bright light; there are many people… wait–no, just men. They are all chattering at once and grabbing at me. I am laying on a… table.” Angel and Camille cleared the small coffee table, gently place me on it, and laid me out.

“I feel hands tearing at my body everywhere, some are grabbing my breasts others are fingering me. I feel my legs held open. Fingers are holding my mouth open and lodged in my throat.” Camille used the projector, to create a bright light on that side of the room.

“Okay, wait…” Camille was saying. “We need to be careful we do not falsify your memories. Can you remember how you were feeling?”

“I-I-I… don’t know. I can’t… I can’t remember…” I was suddenly weepy.

“Okay, honey. You are safe! You’re with friends! You’re OK!” She nudged me off the table.

“What’s happening?” Angel asked sounding a bit worried.

“She’s okay… Sweetie, breathe deeply and relax. You said you lost three days; can you remember anything else?”

“Sniff, sniff… I don’t know. I-I can’t!”

“Okay, I am going to bring you out. Relax, breathe! I am going to count to ten; as I count, I want you to slowly become more aware of your surroundings and come back to full consciousness. One… two…”

It was very strange; I thought I was conscious the whole time, but when she got to ten, I was suddenly shocked to find myself sitting on a coffee table in this tiny space. It seemed like I was entering a darkened room though the projector was still shining a bright light on the screen. Camille was looking at me intently and stroking my face and hair gently.

“You’re okay, okay…?” I was surprised to find that I was still weepy and sniveling.

“Michelle, sweetie. We have a little more to go on, but we need to be careful; it is easy imprint false memories in a hypnotic state. I only put you under lightly, but I think those memories might be harder to access likely because of the drugs you were given. We know a bit more, so I want you to start again and tell me everything you can actually remember from the beginning. Start with last thing you remember before you were first drugged.”

I started to tell her, with some embarrassment, about drinking the drugged piss, before passing out; but… suddenly, I had flash of memory… I hadn’t passed out right way! Roger had choked me out, but there was a moment I came to before the drug took complete effect, where I felt myself be dragged and folded. My body was under pressure, and I was in a very dark confined space.

He’d stuffed me into the large rolling suitcase, in my room to pack for the long trip. This was my first international trip as a woman, and I felt I needed to have a large wardrobe. I bought the biggest suitcase available. I remembered being wheeled around; I could sense going down in the elevator. I was wheeled through my lobby, where Roger asked the doorman to get him a cab.

The cab came and Roger rejected the cabbie’s help lifting the suitcase with me in it into the trunk. I was really fuzzy and somewhat paralyzed, but I was not out yet. I remembered trying to make out where Roger was telling the cabbie to go, before slamming the trunk shut. All I could make out was “… East 182nd and… Bronx.” A very short time after that, I must have passed out cold because I could remember no more.

“Okay, that’s wonderful, honey. You did really really good!” Camille cooed at me.

She pulled out her tablet and looked up East 182nd street bursa escort bayan in the Bronx on Google maps and projected it onto the screen. Using the streetview, she moved up and down the street. And there… on Third Ave was a hospital–St. Barnabas. I had another flash, remembering the constant sound of ambulance sirens when I was awake in that basement. This had to be the place. The building I woke up in felt relatively small the basement was, maybe, 30’X50′; there were only a few options near enough to the hospital.

“That’s fantastic! I’m going to put you all the way under now. I will record everything, so we can watch it when you are conscious.” She did the whole dot thing again; only this time, it took much longer to put me under, and I went out like a light. When I awoke, she played the video of us on her screen.

“Okay, look at the screen and tell me if you recognize anything.” Screen Camille was saying to me.

“Yes, that building. I said in a faraway disembodied way.” It was the building I most suspected right across from the hospital it was grocery store that was shut down for renovations. The metal gates were down and glass door was blacked out. The old sign had been painted over, but the name was still somewhat legible, “Fr d y’s M k t.”

“I was taken here… When I first woke up, it was just like on Tuesday. I was tied to a post in the basement of this empty shop. I was really groggy. I waited about an hour awake, when Roger showed up to give me something to drink and feed me “breakfast.” He pulled me down on my knees with the choke chain and fed me his piss.

“He made me blow him until he came down my throat. But then he gave me a coffee in a to-go cup. I remembered being thankful for it. He took me out in the yard with a blindfold to “do my business.” When I had pooped, he plugged my ass with garden hose and ran the water until my bowels filled up and I had to release. Then we went up a short flight of stairs, instead of back down to the basement. He took off the blindfold.

“We were in the store and there was a stack of lumber in the center of the room. I was fully conscious, but getting fuzzy when he pulled me by the chain up on the stack of 2x4s. He hit a switch and suddenly the whole room was ablaze with bright construction lights that had been placed strategically around the wood stack. Beside the bright lights, there was no natural light in the room. It must have been after dark.

“I was out, but not really. I was in this weird in-between space of consciousness. Where I could perceive what was happening to me, but had no real control of my body. I could see and not see shapes and colors. The bright lights were blinding and when I looked away everything seemed in shadow. I saw and felt everything through a kind of veil. I could barely make out Roger’s face as he manipulated me on the stack.”

Camille stopped the video. “You did fantastic, sweetie! We have lot to go on. I’m calling my husband, Ray. The bright lights, the whole set up, makes me think… I’m so sorry sweetie… they were probably recording, and if they were, it was probably to post online. We do a lot of missing persons, and this unfortunately happens more often than you think. But my husband Ray is a genius at finding these things.”

She called Ray; gave him all the information we had. Camille offered and brought over tea and cookies to “help calm me.” We drank our tea and gabbed. I talked about my upcoming wedding and the plans for the honeymoon. About a half hour passed, when Camille’s tablet dinged; it was Ray; he had found the video.

Cammie spent a considerable time calming and warning me before she started it. “Sometimes, we don’t remember things, with good reason, because they are too traumatic. Watching it may cause you to re-experience that trauma, and it may not be good for you. Are you sure you want to see it?”

“Yes, I am! The not knowing is probably worse than seeing it again. Right?” She shrugged.

The video opened with a graphic warning written in bloody letters like a horror movie. Then it was Roger dragging me in on a leash with a leather mask on, looking really ominous. He led me onto the stack of two by fours, as I had just remembered.

After a short while, there was a knock on the back door, by then my body looked limp and lifeless, so I was probably out. Roger had placed me on my back on top of the stack with my choke chain pulled taut behind, and the leash screwed into a 2×4 below, leaving my head hanging slightly off the edge. Roger came back with two beefy guys.

“Thair she be, fellas, as promised. She’s yours to use however you’d like. Only, the pussy is off limits.”

He was waving something in his hand and then came and fussed over me, putting something around my waist and a small dildo into my pussy. It was a chastity device that left my anus available while safeguarding my new vagina. I think, for him, it must have been about protecting profits; that’s why he was so gentle when escort bursa he fucked my pussy. He’s a heartless bastard, so we know it wasn’t kindness.

“As I said, four hundred per. Money up front. He reached out his hand and the two men each handed a wad of bills. “You’re lucky to be the early ones; I bet she’s going to get really sloppy by the end.”

He walked away counting the bills and there was another knock on the door. This time there were three men. Two were average size, but one was a behemoth. Roger explained the terms to the two average guys and collected their money, then turned to the giant.

“Darryl, I want you to watch for any trouble and quash it. They can get pretty rough, but keep an eye out, understood? I’ll be at the door collecting.” Darryl too was wearing a loose gimp mask.

“Yes, Sir.”

The first two guys struggled out of their clothes and were headed for me. The first one headed right for my titties and popped his cock in my mouth. He was pawing my tits roughly, while pounding my mouth and throat with his dick. I could tell he was middling size; he wasn’t gagging me at all, but it seemed meaty enough, and a bit short.

As the video played, I began to remember more and parts of the event came flooding back to me. Roger must have given me a different drug or a smaller dose, because I was aware, though I had a difficult time getting my limbs to work the way I wanted, and all my senses were dulled.

The other guy lifted my legs over his shoulders and was exploring my ass, and I remembered the slipperiness of his tongue on my ass and his prodding finger poking through my sphincter. It was not unpleasant, though I didn’t remember enjoying it. He also tapped at my chastity dildo, which I definitely felt even through the haze of the drug.

Pain seemed far away and blunted, when I felt it. The guy in my throat was pulling on the chain and choking me, for instance, and I barely registered the pain of the prods.

I thought, I should be angry about the despicable thing Roger had done, and I was now, but my memory of the experience at the time was frustration over not being able to truly feel it. Looked like a bunch of guys were going to fuck and torture me, against my will–that was the troubling part. As my “Master,” even temporarily, he could have commanded me to fuck all these guys, and I would have agreed. I was almost as mad at having missed the experience.

On the screen, the two new guys were coming toward me; guy one (in my mouth) was deepthroating me, while guy two was about penetrate my hole. Guys three and four were now at either side of me and pawing at my titties. One of them brought my free hand to his dick. I couldn’t really stroke it or hold it very well, but he used my hand to jerk himself off, while also pulling and twisting my nipple ring.

Soon, Four was doing the same, while Two began to pound into my asshole. One was getting ready to come, but pulled out of my mouth and let Three take his place. Three had the biggest cock so far, though as usual not as big as my Daddy. Had I been fully awake I would have been able to worship that larger than average cock, but all I could do was provide a warm hole for him to use my lolling open mouth.

One was jerking himself off slowly, but made it clear he expected to be next in my ass. Three was battering my throat with his cock. Two was building up a big head of steam and was going to come quite quickly. He too was a bit hesitant, but he came gobs of spunk up my ass before he could stop himself. One was eager to get his turn and hardly let Two finish spurting in my ass.

One slipped right into my open, cum-filled hole and was going slowly and rhythmically in and out of me. I might have enjoyed it, but I could remember barely feeling it. I tried to ask him to really drive it into me, but all I could manage was a drowsy grunt. Three was face-fucking me hard and pulling my head up to meet his cock, causing me to choke on the chain. He didn’t really care, but when he was about to come, like guy One, he pulled out before it was too late and Two stepped up to the plate, with his slimy dick fresh out of my ass.

The door opened again and four new figures of different shapes and sizes came from the shadows into the brightness. They followed the same pattern we could just make out Roger’s voice in the distance, I assumed giving the new guys the same spiel as the previous Johns.

One was now fucking my ass good and hard, and I definitely remembered feeling it even in my fuzzy state. Two finished using my mouth as his personal lave and began pissing right down my throat. For some reason, it felt scalding hot. But he didn’t have much; I swallowed a lot of it, though much spilled right out of my slo-mo mouth. Once he was done, he tweaked my nipple and walked away.

Guys five through eight, seemed to be coming from a coke party; they wanted to do everything fast and hard. Number Five came quickly over, after ripping off his clothes and was pummeling my tits. Four was still holding one of them, and he cupped both of them for Five to slap with an open hand. One was moaning as they did this and it might have brought on his orgasm. He pulled out hurriedly and ran around the makeshift table to finish in my mouth.

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