NCS- Non Consensual Story, part 4

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and not desired by the author.

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Fourth part of NCS - Non Consensual Story , after parts 2 and 3 . 

My douche-bag protagonist has come to some bothersome realizations, the lesser of which being that he cannot, really, tend to the very same injuries that he produces to his victim.

Probably he should ask himself why exactly wants those injuries to be mended to begin with... yes, we all have an idea about that, but the kludge is really clueless. 

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It was since his ill-fated third term in college, that Josh did not touch anything electronic with a screwdriver and a solder iron.

He soon realised that he had forgot almost everything... his first try, he simply attached a small  detonator to the collar's TASER spurs.

He had bought some twenty detonators from a run-down demolition expert, along with a little C4. The explosive was fairly more than what he needed, but it was in line with his excuse for buying the stuff and so many detonators - carving a big boulder in the middle of the woods, near the complex.

He connected the detonator, switched off the base emitter, and nothing happened... the collar gave high voltage, low intensity pulses that could not fire the explosive device. He took a long look at the collar circuitry... and resigned himself. It was a single board full of SMD components, with a two level metallization - not something that he could really tackle.

He decided to go for a very low tech solution, and adding a  small external board to convert the original signal to one more useful, as well as adding a "near-discharge  explosion" capacity.

It took him more than a week, to assemble his first control collar. In the end, he saw that de detonator alone was more than enough to do the job, if left under the steel band that he used  as the external tamper-proof-y wall of his contraption.

He doubted that his masterpiece could really live up to a police bomb disposal unit, but he didn't need it  to be either. All it had to do was keep in check Kyla and some nurse with little to no technical tools or understanding.

He built in all four collars - one as a demonstration, one for his next prisoner, one for the almost inevitable next nurse, and one for Kyla, should the need arise..

He checked and re-checked that any of its work didn't explode on itself, and revised his aim from a surgical room nurse to a more accessible E.R. room nurse - after all, most of what he wanted to do to Kyla required only ER treatment.

Then, he purposely dislocated his left wrist, and got admitted to the E.R of St. James. He didn't find a suitable woman - the only female nurse in that turn was a 300 pounds Afro-American that looked like she could break him in two - so he had to get admitted to the one of Crawford University - there, a short redhead with a neurotic air caught his attention.

She was kind of cute, and she was small enough that overpowering her was not going to be difficult.

Only, he needed to stalk her without getting caught, which wasn't something he was sure to know how to do.

He took a pause, revised an online course for P.I.s, and went back.

In all this, his attention so distracted, he let Kyla almost alone for two weeks  - the black girl knew that something was afoot, and it scared her.

Because logic dictated that any change Josh may have to make to his plans could require the final disappearance of one Kyla Lawson, and starting over with a new victim.

The beatings and the humiliations were bad, but at least confirmed her that he was still engaged.

Indifference could be a prelude to a hidden grave, in the middle of the woods surrounding the farm.

It was at this part of her not exalting analysis, when Josh suddenly entered her cell, He was happy - why was he happy? - and hastily reached to her, reversed her small frame on the Iron bed and, as he had tried countless time before, he placed his cock on her anus and pushed.

As in virtually every previous attempt, he failed - Kyla could have explained to him that, even in the best consensual scenario, she really needed some dilatory preparation, to be able to accept a man's cock that way.

She knew at least that much, but she also knew that it would be humiliating for Josh, realizing that she was more sexually experienced than he.

Josh seemed to grasp pathetically to a hardly justified sense of superiority - he wasn't better than her as a writer, he clearly didn't know what he was doing and, in all honesty, "Leach" had been twice the man and thrice the lover.      

Josh tried another couple of times, before realising that he was going to manage it this time, so he rudely turned Kyla, again, and forced his cock in her almost toothless mouth.

With no incisors, canines  and pre-molars left, she could not try to cut off his stupid penis any more... all she could do was give him more pleasure, trying to byte his lump of flesh with her gums.

She knew it too well, so she tried to deny him his pleasure, by opening her mouth... he simply took her nipples in his hands, and squeezed as hard as he could... the shock made her close her mouth, and Josh continued to fuck her throat till he came. He then went to the wall locker, and took a bull-whip out of it...

It took more than a week, to Josh, to profile the redhead nurse. She lived alone with two cats, in a run-down detached house in what used to be a nice community, just outside town.

Her name was ... Josh had decided to avoid the" Kyla mistake".

Humanizing his victims, knowing their names or worse their lives , made it harder for him to be as mercilessly cruel as necessary.

Once she was in his hands, with the control collar on, the redhead would be Slave #2. Nothing more.

She was a reasonably prudent person, closed her door at night, with two locks.

A baseball broke one of her windows, while she was away working, and a nice chunk of fillet lead the biggest of her cats out of the house and into Josh's cage.

All he had to do was to wait, for the inevitable - the redhead placed a "missing cat" panel at the grocery store.

Josh called, met her, and took a copy of her keys, while she was feeding and comforting the poor animal.

Three days later, when she entered her home at the end of her turn, he was already inside it. It was hardly a struggle, while he waited for the 0.2 ml of Demotidine that he stuck in her neck to act.

He had calculated the quantity of the horse sedative to be fairly correct for a 50 kg animal, but the redhead was a little strong woman, so her heart not only didn't stop but she didn't even completely lose consciousness. He had another of Needle-less injection device and got the first ready, with another 0.2 ml of Demotidine - in his estimation it was enough to keep her "out" for the hour or so that he needed to reach the farm, avoiding the NTSC and police security cameras.

He placed her in the Suburban shotgun seat, opened the garage with the electric opener, and drove away in her car, the two cats caged in the back. He knew that no cat lover would leave behind his pets, which meant that he needed to get rid of them too, if he wanted the police to doubt that she had gone away on her own.

He placed the new prisoner in the room adjacent the cell of Kyla and immediately proceeded to lock her collar in place.

If she ever found a way to free herself and proceeded to go more than one hundred away from the three base transmitters that he had in the complex, the detonator would tore her neck's front to pieces, destroying carotid, trachea and a lot of other bits that helps humans to keep on living.

He considered again what to do with the cats - he loved cats, and chances were that these had one of those pesky identification chips.

Slave#2 could take care of them as well as of Kyl... - Slave#1.

He locked the two cats with their former owner, along with a small text in which he explained the redhead what exactly she had around her neck, the he  moved on to the pressing  matter of getting rid of the Suburban.

He had a long drive in front of him, to a certain scrapyard of his knowledge...