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The Subjugation of Scully
Three things:
1. Obviously I don’t
own the rights to the X Files characters, this is pure
fanfic, so no commercial reposting please.
2. Similarly, I hope
no one reading this thinks it’s alright to really go out there and start
kidnapping FBI agents. Let’s keep a fingernail grip on reality please people!
3. This is my first
ever attempt at writing fiction, so any feedback (no matter how negative!) will
be appreciated. Email me at HaroldTCS@hotmail.com
please. And now, on with my tale…
Chapter One
FBI special agent Dana Scully struggled to suppress a yawn as she
walked along the hallway towards her apartment. It had just been ‘one of those
days’; she and her partner, Fox Mulder, had recently been assigned to
investigate the disappearance of a number of young women and, although there
were a number of unusual aspects to the case (just about enough, indeed, to
merit calling the case an X file), Mulder’s repeated assertion that the women
in question had undoubtedly been abducted by aliens was unsupported by any
evidence whatsoever. Scully had spent yet another fruitless day trying to get
her partner to see reason in this case and, as she prepared
to enter her apartment, she was struck with a vision of herself forty years
into the future, a tired little old lady still pursuing Mulder on his endless
series of wild goose chases. “I’m going to die an old maid,” Scully said to
herself, only half jokingly, as she opened the door to her apartment.
Tired and distracted as she was, Scully was taken with almost
ridiculous ease. They were waiting for her just inside the door - two men clad
completely in black, including black ski masks and black leather gloves. Scully
froze for a vital second at the sight of one black-clad intruder standing right
before her and then, before she could react, the man stepped forward and drove
his fist into her stomach, driving all the air out of her lungs with an audible
‘whoosh’. As Scully doubled up in agony the second assailant stepped smartly
behind her and covered her mouth and nose with a soft cloth. With her lungs
screaming for air Scully acted instinctively and was unable to prevent herself taking a deep breath, meaning that the chloroform on
the cloth quickly took effect. Cursing herself for the
ease with which she had allowed herself to be abducted, FBI special agent Dana
Scully slid rapidly into unconsciousness.
Her captors then worked quickly, fastening her hands behind her back
with metal handcuffs and restraining her legs in a similar fashion. Before they
then slipped her unconscious body into a large canvas sack the leader of the
two-man team took a moment to inspect his latest acquisition, stroking Scully’s
flaming red hair back from her face. “This one’s a real beauty,” he thought to
himself. “I wonder if she’s been acquired to order or if she’s intended for the
auction block. I wouldn’t mind buying this one myself… if I could only afford
it.” After a discrete cough from his associate, however, the leader of the acquisition
team forced his mind back onto his work – dawdling was a sure way to get
noticed and caught. The two men lifted the canvas bag containing the inert form
of Dana Scully and began to carry it towards the apartment building’s service
staircase. No one had noticed their entry to Scully’s apartment, no one had
notice the unobtrusive, unmarked van parked round the back and no one noticed
their departure in its with their human cargo. FBI special agent Dana Scully
had, to all intents and purposes, simply vanished.
Chapter Two
When she awoke Scully was unable to move for several minutes. An
attempt to open her eyes was quickly reversed due to the bright lights of
wherever the hell she was and an attempt to sit up was rapidly aborted due to
the nausea it brought on and so Scully decided that it would be best to lay
where she was for a while, during which time the horror of what had happened to
her slowly sank in.
All FBI agents are well schooled in the numerous cases where females
have been abducted by men, however, and so, after a few minutes where she
remained curled up into a ball with panic washing over her, Scully began to get
a hold of herself. The abduction of an FBI agent would
inevitably lead to a huge manhunt just as soon as she failed to turn up to
work. No abduction, however efficient, could be carried out without leaving any
traces at all, she reasoned, and so, Scully tried to convince herself, the
authorities would inevitably find and rescue her shortly. All she had to do was
survive long enough to be rescued, she reminded herself, and her FBI training
meant that she knew exactly what kind of behaviour was required to keep the
psychos who had kidnapped her from killing her for as long as possible.
With her initial panic passing, Scully began to assess her immediate
predicament. She was lying on her side on a hard but smooth surface. She did
not appear to be injured, apart from the nausea, and she appeared to be fully
clothed. Slowly she opened her eyes, and saw...
She was in a small windowless room painted completely white. There was
only one door in the room and this was so well set into one of the walls that
it was very hard to actually make it out. The most interesting feature of the
room, however, was the set of vertical bars that divided the side of the room
where Scully was from the side where the door was. They appeared to be standard
‘jail cell’ bars, thick iron bars set about six inches apart with, again, a
single padlocked ‘door’ set in the middle.
Apart from the bars the only item in the room was what appeared to be
an animal’s litter tray in one corner of Scully’s side of the room. Crawling
over to the tray Scully discovered that it was, indeed, filled with what
appeared to be cat litter.
Having completed an initial inspection of her prison,
which hadn’t taken long, Scully then began to examine herself. Her gun, badge
and cellphone had all vanished but she was still wearing all of the clothes
that she had had on when captured, which was a blessing of sorts. Oh, and there
was a strange prickling sensation at the nape of her neck. She reached one hand
back and felt a small scar. Now, how had that happened? An
injury during her abduction perhaps? Scully contemplated shouting for
help but soon decided against it. Her captors would be most unlikely to leave
her ungagged anywhere where a cry for help would do any good and her FBI
training quickly reminded her that her chances of survival would be maximised
if she remained non-confrontational and gave her captors no reason to believe
that she was not co-operating fully.
With nothing else to do, Scully then knelt down in a corner of the room
and waited. The after effects of the chloroform soon wore off and, in spite of
her desperate plight, it wasn’t long before boredom actually managed to set in.
Unable to track the passage of time, Scully had no idea how long had
passed before anything happened. The first she knew was a sharp click that woke
her from a sort of bored daze; this was caused by the door opposite her opening
and a man entering Scully’s cell.
The traditional response of an abductee in this situation would have
been to jump up and run towards the bars, screaming for help and shouting to be
let out but Scully knew better than this. She knew that outbursts of hysteria
in front of the kind of madman who would kidnap a women would dramatically
increase the chance of her being killed and so she remained where she was; on
her knees in a corner of her cell, attempting to appraise the situation as
calmly as was possible under the circumstances.
Chapter Three
Harold Sheep loved his job. He had, at one stage, thought that nothing
could ever replace the army in his life but the ‘profession’ that he had found
himself practicing once he had got too old for the Marines was actually better
than life in the military, he had to admit. How many reluctant young ladies had
had the pride and arrogance painstakingly removed from their natures after a
course of his obedience training, he thought to himself, as he entered the cell
of his latest pupil, 250? No, probably more than 300 by now.
Forcing himself to concentrate on the job at hand, Harold began to appraise the young woman who would, under his instruction,
soon be converted into an obedient little bitch. This one was intelligent,
because she hadn’t began to scream or shout as soon as he had entered the cell,
he observed. Neither was she cowering in terror at the back of the cell, as so
many did, but was, rather, appraising him with admiral coolness. So she was
also a brave and stubborn one. Harold smiled to himself. Breaking in the
intelligent and the independent was what made his job such fun; their ultimate
surrender, no matter how inevitable (and it was utterly inevitable), was just
so much sweeter than subduing a slut who put up no resistance at all.
And it did no harm that this one was also a beauty. That wonderful mane
of copper coloured hair, that alabaster skin, those amazing eyes… Harold shook
himself inwardly. It was time to go to work…
Chapter Four
“Don’t say a word, just stand up and approach the bars,” Harold said,
approaching the metal ‘grill’ that separated the room into two. Scully, after
just a moment’s hesitation, did so. “Now take off your jacket and drop it on
the floor on my side of the bars.”
In response to this simple instruction Scully made her first mistake.
Instead of simply obeying she began to try to engage her captor in
conversation. “Now look, I…” she began but before she could say another word
there was… Pain. No, not pain.
Agony. No, not even agony, but something beyond what
she had ever previously understood about suffering. An
indescribable horror that reached into the very core of her being.
Scully came too after what must have been a brief blackout and found
herself lying back on the floor that she had just risen from. “Bad, isn’t it?”
said her captor, smiling down at her in the manner of a cat that has just
cornered a mouse. “But what…” Scully began to reply, before being cut down once
again by pain beyond her worst nightmares.
“Now one of the first things you are going to have to learn is no
talking without permission,” Scully’s captor continued. “Oh, and doing anything
other than obeying my orders, instantly and without question, will also send
you back to hell. Now, stand up, take off your jacket and drop it on the floor
on my side of the bars.”
Sent almost into a state of shock by the fact that her captor
apparently somehow had the ability to inflict pain without even touching her,
Scully struggled to her feet, removed her jacket and dropped it through the
bars as instructed.
“Good girl,” her jailor said, smiling. “Now, I am going to spend a few
minutes telling you what has happened to you and what will happen to you in the
future. Every now and then I will also be ordering you to remove certain items
of clothing and drop them on top of your jacket. Should you fail to do so
promptly or make any attempt to speak or even move, unless it is to remove some
clothing, then you get hurt again. And again. Until
you learn that there really is no viable alternative to obedience. Is that
clear?” Scully nodded dumbly. “Good, her captor continued, “then I’ll begin…”
Chapter Five
“The reason why disobedience brings such agony is because while you
were unconscious we performed a small surgical procedure on you,” Scully’s
captor continued. “You’ve felt a slight itching sensation at the nape of your
neck since you work up, haven’t you?”
Scully could only nod dumbly in response. “Well,” Harold went on. “I’m
afraid to tell you that you have been given an implant. Alien
technology.”
“Yes, they really do exist,” the bitch trainer laughed, in response to
Scully’s involuntary gasp of astonishment at this piece of information. “You
have been fitted with a ‘slave’ implant, whilst I have a ‘master’ implant. I
have no idea how they work but I do know that a simple thought from me sends
you into hell. Now remove your top.”
With Scully’s mind a whirl her captor’s instruction simply failed to
register with her and before she knew it she was once again down on her hands
and knees moaning in pain. “Take off your top, slut,” Harold continued in a
calm voice. “Now.”
Scully struggled quickly to her feet and slipped her plain cotton top
over her head and dropped it on top of the jacket on the other side of the
bars. “Good girl,” said her abductor, smiling as he took in his latest pet’s
perfect tits, encased in a lacy black bra. The psychological profile that he
had had prepared on this latest acquisition had indicated that there was a
strong possibility that Dana Scully was a latent slut and her choice of
underwear was one piece of evidence that appeared to confirm this.
“Now, where was I? Ah yes, your implant. As I said, just a thought from
me causes you suffering. A great deal of suffering.
And I will think that thought over and over again unless I get obedience. Instant, unquestioning obedience. Nod your head if you
understand.”
Despite being partially in shock due to her ordeal Scully still had
just about enough of her wits about her to nod dumbly. Alien
technology? Had Mulder been right all these years? And, most important
of all, why had she been given an implant? What plans did her captors have for
her?
Before she could continue with this terrifying train of thought, as
though able to read her mind (and perhaps he could!), her abductor then said:
“So, I suppose you’d like to know why you have been taken.” Scully could only
nod dumbly once more in response to this.
“Very good indeed,” noted
her captor with a smile. “Well, my pet, you have been abducted not by some lone
nut who has left a convenient chain of clues that will lead the FBI right to
you, oh no. You have been taken by a very large, well organised group of
powerful men who have captured innumerable women in the past and who have
gotten away with it every time. We left no clues when we took you and if, by
some freak chance, the investigation that your partner Mulder and assistant
director Skinner will undoubtedly launch starts getting too close to home, we
have the power to destroy FBI computer records, cause evidence to disappear, witnesses
to change their stories, and so forth. Rest assured,
you are ours for life now.”
As her captor paused for breath Scully allowed the horror of what he
had told her to sink in. In her years spent investigating the X files with
Mulder she had more than once come across evidence of a conspiracy of men, a
government within a government, who were effectively above the law and the
dreadful suspicion that it was these men who had arranged for her kidnapping
began to gnaw at her.
“And our plans for you are as follows,” Scully’s trainer continued.
“The rich and powerful men who own and control our organisation have little
time for such ridiculous concepts as freedom and democracy for all. Many of
them enjoy owning female human pets and you, my dear, have been acquired for
that very purpose. I hope that you are savouring this conversation we are
having - it will be the last time in your life that anyone addresses you as a
human being. From this moment on you will be trained to be an obedient bitch
puppy, willing and eager to serve its master in any way required. You will not
believe it possible now, of course, but your spirit will be completely broken
and your personality totally re-modelled. In just a few short weeks you will be
a willing slutpet, hungry for your owner’s cock, with all thoughts of escape
and disobedience gone from your mind. Now, remove your skirt.”
Once again Scully hesitated, as the utter horror of her situation
began, slowly, to sink into her but another short burst of pain soon had her
sliding her knee length skirt down to her ankles, revealing to her appreciative
audience of one a pair of hold up black stockings and a pair of black lace
panties that matched her bra.
Scully’s captor was then silent for a few moments as he drank in the
amazing view. Yes, he thought to himself, the psychological profilers were
definitely right. Any woman who wore underwear like
that but, at the same time, appeared to have no sex life at all, was definitely
a repressed slut. And, under his guidance, that horny little beast would soon
be coming out to play. Scully stood there before him awkwardly, too scared to
move or try to speak. Her captor noted approvingly how well the high heels that
she habitually wore matched her now skimpy outfit. She truly was a beauty – the
senior shadow government figure who had ordered her abduction certainly had
excellent taste, he thought to himself. “Now, time to begin teaching this bitch
a proper lesson in obedience,” Harold said to himself as he took a step closer
to the bars that separated him from his helpless captive…
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