Campaign 6R Ch 16 1

Chapter 16

Eight days later I was seated at the bar of a swank Houston restaurant waiting for Armen Delacter's appearance.

His home, a huge estate, and empire's headquarter was in Houston.

His appointment schedule had given me the date, time and location of a business lunch, an initial meeting for Delacter's purchase proposal of a company.

Delacter owned the restaurant and had a private room permanently reserved for his use. He would pass the bar on the way to his reserved private dining area.

I had researched the man he was supposed to meet, a successful entrepreneur. He did not appear tainted with the stink of sex slavery. He had shown reluctance at selling and his company being solely owned was not subject to a hostile takeover. He had agreed to Delacter's request to meet. I accessed the man's appointment schedule, changing the meeting date to the day after tomorrow.

I recognized Delacter from his picture, when he entered the restaurant. He was a large man, reminding me of the late actor, Cesar Romero, flanked by vigilant security, two in front and two behind. The maître d' just bowed as Delacter told him of his expected guest.

As the entourage moved past I entered and took control of Delacter's mind. He stumbled slightly, hesitating at this intrusion. This caused a momentary concern with security but I moved Delacter on toward his private room.

After two security men checked the room, Delacter entered closing the door leaving two guards outside.

Per my instruction Delacter told the outside guards to keep the waiters out until he gave notice but allow his guest entry.

I let several minutes pass before approaching the men guarding the door. I gave them the man's name and after frisking me, they opened the door, ushering me into the room.

The inside guards stood by the door and Delacter was seated in a plush leather chair at a large table in the center of the room.

"Mr. Allen please have a seat," I prompted him to say.

As I took a seat opposite him, in a guttural, no nonsense voice, he ordered the inside guards, "Give us some privacy. We will order when done."

The guards glanced at each other in askance but hesitantly complied closing the door behind them.

Alone with Delacter I took complete control installing myself as his master and questioned him.

I had been right about Summer Milandy. Many years ago he had her sold to a local pimp, Flash Moses. He had no contact with or knowledge of her since.

Further investigation would be required, but held out no hope for a favorable outcome.

He had another slave, Cindy Kitter, between his current slave and Summer Milandy.

Cindy Kitter had been sent the way of Summer Milandy to the same sleaze bag, Flash Moses.

His current slave, he called Pussy. He did not know her real name or was interested in knowing it. Her past identity was of no consequence to him. He considered her something he owned, like a car or piece of clothing and needed no personal identity. Her only purpose was sex and so he called her Pussy.

Delacter kept Pussy in a penthouse of a 35 floor high rise apartment building he owned in downtown Houston.

The penthouse could only be accessed by an elevator and stairs located in a locked room off of the underground garage with no exit for the other floors. The stairwell doors, top and bottom were locked from the outside and would only open to descend, complying with fire code. The elevator required a passcode entry to move and another to open onto the elevator foyer. The penthouse door required another passcode to enter and to exit.

Two guards were posted in a room off the garage, to deny ingress and egress of the penthouse elevator and stairs. They were not aware of Pussy, never having been to the penthouse, and did not know the passcodes. When Delacter visited, his personal guards remained in the elevator foyer.

I got information on the scumbag who provided Delacter with Cindy Kitter and Melinda Delon.

I would have been acting on this in the future but Delacter had him killed after attempted blackmail.

Delacter had 230 million dollars in a Swiss bank.

The main advantage with a Swiss bank account is that they protect the privacy of their customers. Swiss law creates a kind of 'bank secrecy' where it's illegal to divulge the identity of their account holders. Unless there is grave and significant legal cause and supporting court orders, Swiss can't hand over the names of their clients to investigators or foreign governments.

I had the account and routing number to Delacter's Swiss Bank account. Over time I would transfer the money in small increments to an off shore account I had set up with a bogus identity. Bank accounts now are simply computer data backed up on a global computer network. Using the assigned correct numbers, funds are transferred the world over.

A huge withdrawal would draw unwanted attention where a series of smaller ones would slide under the bank's scrutiny as business as usual. Delacter used the account to hide his nefarious dealings, moving money in and out. I would use Delacter's existing account to draw upon the monies until the account was close depletion. By then it would be too late.

When I had extracted all the pertinent information from Delacter, I programmed him for a delayed mental destruction along the same lines of Obusco.

Delacter hollered for his guards to escort me out. On the way out I cleansed all the guard's minds of any memories of me or anyone being alone with Delacter. They would only remember Delcater telling them to leave.

The maître d' would swear that no one had arrived for the Delcater meeting.

I walked to my rental car and when seated inside, sent a command, *Delacter Emotion.*

In the restaurant as Delacter, starting to take a sip of wine before attacking a large bowl of oysters, was overcome with fierce incapacitating fear.

To his guards astonishment he cowered, crying and trembling under the table. They were unable to get him up as he groveled, cringing at their helping hand. Five minutes later he was laughing uncontrollable, giggling at everything.

This behavior continued, alternating until he was given a strong sedative. Emergency services strapped him to a gurney and transported him to the hospital.

I had given the command for him to rotate between the two extremes for the rest of his miserable life. He would eventually be placed in mental asylum, constrained in a straightjacket.

I drove to Delacter's apartment building and parked in the underground garage. I approached the penthouse elevator room, knocking on the locked door.

When a large, scowling man opened the door, I put him and his partner inside to sleep. Leaving them slumped snoozing on the floor I punched the elevator code into key pad.

The elevator door swished open and I stepped inside and touched the P button on the controls. After swiftly rising I entered the elevator lobby code and the penthouse door code and stepped into the penthouse. I felt a rhythmic pressure on my ear drums as the door shut.

A naked girl jumped up from the couch where she had been sitting and saying nothing, quickly prostrating herself toward the door, upon it closing. Leaving her alone for a moment I checked to make sure we were alone. We were.

Furniture was sparse in this otherwise luxurious suite with nothing other than necessary items and equipment. No paintings, pictures or other decorations and no curtains over the windows. There was no TV, radio, phone, computer, electronic devices or reading material, nothing providing a link outside the penthouse walls. The doors leading out on a spacious balcony were locked, requiring a passcode. The overall feel of the place was utilitarian, spartan.

The girl had not moved, remaining quiet as I made my search.

She lay face down, arms extended toward the door, palms up as if in supplication. Her legs were spread wide exposing her hairless pussy nestled below the plump, rounded cheeks of her ass.

I stood in front of her and quietly spoke, "Pussy."

Getting no response I entered her mind and was astonished.

It was almost completely empty, much like a young child. Blind, deaf and mute, since birth, she had inherent intelligence potential but which had never been developed, taught or utilized.

I gained very little information from her, her history a distorted blank. She simply did not know, having no spatial point of reference or time. She knew nothing beyond very basic existence. Not where she was, who or even what she was. Her name, age and gender were unknown.

I was not certain but it appeared that from an early age she had only been conditioned as a slave before being purchased by Delacter.

Before him she had no sexual recollection but he had frequently violated her. Satisfying him sexually was the core and reason for her being.

Horrified I took control of her mind, sending mental commands for her stand and sit on the couch. The woman, of mixed ancestry, possibly American Indian and Irish, was a dark beauty, skin the color of mocha with reddish undertones.

Her voluminous, jet black, curly hair fell past her narrow waist in loose waves. It framed a heart shaped face of soft, lovely features, with large, blank, almond shaped, chocolate brown eyes, a small cute upturned nose with a scattering of freckles on it and her cheeks and full naturally pink cupid lips.

Voluptuous, exquisitely curved and perfectly formed with the classical hour-glass figure on a short frame, less than five feet tall. Toned, shapely legs, slender thighs and calves, and delicate ankles, full hips, a narrow waist, endowed bust and a pronounced bubble butt. Her vulva was a bare, a lush mound with lips pressed together and clit poking out conspicuously.

I tried to mentally talk to her but she was terrified, hearing noise in her mind. Her world had always been silent and having no language skills or even knowledge of them, she did not understand what I said.

Ensconcing her in her special room and special bed I had her experience intense pleasure never known before. I removed all prior commands, programming and conditions, installing myself as her first Master.

Delacter had handled her via prior programming and current conditioning for physical control.

Submerging her very, very deep, calming her and gaining absolute control, I removed all memories of her prior life, replacing them with loving memories of growing up belonging to Mama and Daddy's family as an adopted child, mine and Di's step sister.

I gave her back her innocence and gave her the name Samantha Vancy. She never had one before. I also gave her back her innocence and mental virginity. She had no memory of ever being sexually active, although she was naturally inclined and inherently attracted and very interested.

Examining her brain will she was under the euphoric effect of her special room and bed, I found it was a bright pristine network with no damage or blockages.

As with Di, I imprinted my knowledge into her. She would not be able to accept it all nor would she be able to immediately make use of what she now had. She would be cognizant of the outside world, able to learn and develop. She couldn't speak but would be able to understand and communicate with me.

This done, I gave her specific commands and instructions, broadening and deepening my complete mastery over her.

She was a special case who could not, would not, survive on her own. I would have to get her to the safety and security of my home as soon as possible.

There, along with the girls, I could work on, nurturing, her to become a viable contributing member of society. Until then she was an invalid.

Leaving her in her special bed, I started to gather her belongings. There were none. No clothes. Nothing. She had been kept naked.

The refrigerator only had milk and a collection of cold cuts and cheese. The cupboard only contained a loaf of sliced white bread, three boxes of Frosted Flake Cereal, a package of raisins and assorted Pop Tarts. There was a large bowl of assorted fruit on the table, apples, oranges, bananas and grapes.

The stove was unplugged and there was no microwave. The bathroom was just as austere, with only the basic health and women's hygiene products but no cosmetics or perfumes. There was a large bottle of women's multi vitamins on the sink counter and a glass.

In the bedroom closet the only item of clothing was a man's long, plush white robe which I grabbed. I didn't like it as it had a faint odor of Delacter but needed something for Samantha to wear when we left.

I went back to Samantha sitting limply on the couch. I gave her instructions, when released from her special bed, to trust me implicative, following my every command, immediately and without question.

*Penthouse Awake.*

Samantha roused.

*You ok?*

*Fine Master*

*Good. Put this on,* I said handing her the robe sending her a mental picture of it.

She stood and grasped on the robe, raising it to her nose, sniffing the collar, and said, *It feels strange. I don't like, it smells.*

Her remaining, functioning senses, olfactory and tactile were greatly heightened. She smelled Delacter and was instinctively disturbed, although she did not realize why.

*Sorry, Samantha you will not have to wear it long. Once we get to the hotel room you can take off but for now you need to wear it.*

*Yes Master.*

I wrapped it around her and tied it with the hem dragging the floor.

*Come on lets go. There is nothing here you need.*

I punched the code into the keypad and opened the door, stepping into the hall.

Sam followed, her hand on my shoulder, reflectively commenting, *Funny, I can't remember every leaving the room.*

*Doesn't matter you're leaving now and never coming back!*

We descended to the basement garage. The security officers were still asleep.

I cracked, *Hard to find good help these days. Can you believe these guys sleeping on the job.*

I wiped their minds of any memories of my arrival. When they woke in another thirty minutes, embarrassed, they would swear they were awake the entire time and no one came or went.

Arriving at my hotel suite, Sam exchanged the smelly robe for a fresh one. Seating her on the couch I sent her to the special room.

I fired up my laptop and started searching for Flash Moses. After much rooting I located the area of the city where his crib peddled their wares.

Allowing Sam to remain in her special room and bed, on the couch, I left, taking Delacter's robe and stuffing it in a trash can in the hotel lobby.

As dusk transformed into night, I cruised around Flash Moses' area, seeing several of the hookers standing waiting on a john. I pulled up to the oldest looking one and motioned her over.

She stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and leaned in the window. Once she may have been pretty but time and circumstance had not been kind. Even in diffused light of the street lights she looked used up.

She seemed surprised that she had been chosen.

"Looking for a good time Sugar?"

I took control of her mind and she got into the car. I pulled off while reading her mind.

Linda Itig, whose street name was Kisses, had known Summer Milandy, who had succumbed to the depredations of a street whore, abuse and drugs, several years back.

When Kisses had been in her prime, Summer was in the last stages of end.

Kisses also knew Cindy Kitter, aka, Kitty, working several streets over. I drove by the corner where Kitty was offering her wares and had Kisses point her out. Going on I pulled into a vacant lot.

Kisses was resigned to fate, knowing that fast approaching was a similar conclusion to her sordid life as Summer's. With failed looks, she was not a good earner, regulated mainly to quick blowjobs. As such she received extra abuse from her pimp. She would like to escape but felt powerless to effect a change.

I felt compelled to help so instilled into her mind the will and the way to make a clean break. She had on her all that was needed to make the move, her id. Over the years she had put by money, a little over thousand dollars, in a bank account known only to her. In the next few days I would move money into this account and would later regularly deposit money, into her new account so she could live comfortably.

I had brought with me $50,000 in cash, used the cash for all purchases. The fake DL and credit cards were used only for ID on those purchases, requiring ID. I kept at home a 6R fund of a quarter of a million dollars to use as such.

I carried Kisses to the Greyhound Bus Terminal and gave her $5000, with instructions to buy a ticket to a distant, small town and leave immediately. Soon after arriving at her destination go to a local bank and set up an account and have the money from her Houston bank account transferred.

Under my control as her Master I would retain a connection and could visit her at will through what I called mindscape, exerting control and influencing her. I would know what her new bank account number was and would transfer money into it from my off shore account.

The last I saw of her in person was her going through the bus terminal door.

Prostitution and the victimized women caught up in the sex trade, was horrible, but unfortunately, a fact of life. I knew the impossibility of doing anything to slow, much less stop it. There was not enough, time, assets or money to even make a dent. Punishing the pimps was just as useless.

Regardless of how despicable and cruel it boiled down to money. It was a highly profitable business with a ready market and like the game Whac-A-Mole, if I took out one, another would take their place.

With people like Delacter it was different. There actions resulted from an evil nature. They merited my attention and action.

I returned to Kitty's station and after several passes spotted her. I made contact and took control of her.

She was a still a pretty woman but with the last vestige of beauty fading fast. In a few more years she would be another Kisses and later still another Summer.

Cindy Kitter, Kitty, was different from Linda Itig, Kisses. Kisses situation and vocation had been for the most part, the result of poor choices, money issues and bad circumstance. Cindy had no choice. She was captured, enslaved, used, kept as property, sold and forced into prostitution.

Before going to Houston I made preparations for Milandy's rescue. I needed identification documentation, SSN, Texas DL, Passport, Handgun Permit, two credit cards and an insurance card, that would pass all but stringent examination.

On the dark web I found a supplier who promised his product would do just that. I ordered a complete set for me in the name of George Madison Grant of Dallas TX, and only a SSN and insurance card in Bethany Gail Page's name, because of the lack of a photo.

I asked if I could send payment, in the form of a money order, for documents to a mail drop box. I would pay extra. They agreed and I sent a current photograph of me with money order payment. A week later I picked up the documents from the FedEx mailbox I had opened under a false name. The work lived up to its billing. After intense examination of the documents I could see no difference between them and the real thing only needing a signature. I signed my documents.

I used them to lease an apartment in Greenville, North Carolina in the name Bethany Page for a year and set up a bank account in the Page name, depositing $9,500.

I removed all programs and commands from Cindy Kitter's mind, wiping clean the horrors of her past, giving her new memories. I gave her the new SSN, the Greenville account numbers, $10,000 in cash, instructions on her actions at Greenville and to expect receipt of monthly deposits into the Page account. I took her to the airport, bought a ticket to Greenville and saw her off.