Bringing Down the Cult

An old friend of Ws, who just happens to be a high-level federal agent, asks him to help free a group of mind-controlled sex slaves. As is often the case, he is uniquely suited for the job.

At 13,600 words, this story is a bit longer than most of my posts, but it really doesn't easily divide into separate posts. Like all of my W stories, there is a lot of action/adventure as well as erotica in the six chapters of this story. If you are looking for just the sex stuff, skip down to Chapter Three. The Mechanical Orgy is 4,500 words, which is the typical size of my regular posts.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2023 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Chapter One - A Meeting with Lacy

As I sat slowly sipping my coffee in the dimly-lit diner, I pulled from my pocket the small business card which had brought me here. The card itself was a very pale shade of pink. It had an embossed edge framing it and five embossed pillars in the very center. There was nothing printed on the face of the card. On the back, however, was a neatly-hand written note which said, "W, KoZee Kup Diner, 7:30 pm." It was signed simply "Marco".

I was in DC for other business when a delivery messenger brought the card to my hotel room door. When I asked who had sent it he answered, "Benjamin Franklin... and his brother." He paused a moment before saying, "She said you would know." Then he turned and walked away.

I knew. I hadn't heard from Lacy McGrath is several years. She was no longer a federal agent. She was well above that now. Publicly, she was the head of a super secret branch of Homeland Security. Privately, she was also the Chief Mistress of the Mansion Club, whose symbol just happens to be the five pillars embossed on her card.

I was still slowly turning the card in my hands when a soft voice from behind me said, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I stole your idea for a business card."

"But you are far from mediocre," I replied. When Lacy looked confused, I motioned her into the booth and said, "The complete quote from Oscar Wilde is, 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness."

"Why am I not surprised that you would know that full quote," she said with a strained smile as she settled herself into the booth. After the waiter brought her a steaming cup of black coffee, she took a sip and looked around the small diner. The booths on either side of us were empty. The stools at the counter directly across from us were occupied by two men and two women who looked like they had just stepped off a recruiting poster for American Mercenaries.

"I assume they are with you," I said tilting my head toward the counter. She nodded and I continued, "I slipped the waiter two fifties and told him it was rental on the two booths on either side of us until I left."

"You are as paranoid as ever," she said flatly, once again trying to smile.

"Says the woman with four heavily-armed bodyguards," I replied. "... who set up this meeting because she needs something from me."

Her face went totally blank. Her voice lost all expression as she said flatly, "Have you ever heard of The Community of Eden?

I shook my head and she continued, "It's a sex cult. Their leader, who calls himself The Enlightened Son of Seth, has some mystical hold over a lot of young women... and men. He uses them to seduce political, military, and economic leaders and then he blackmails them."

"Sounds like a job for the FBI," I answered curtly, but she shook her head and said, "Nothing can be proven. And he makes sure that all of the young women who are actively giving out sex are at least eighteen years of age so we can't go after him from that angle. There are hints that he might provide some Epstein services, but we have no hard evidence of that."

"So what do you want from me?" I asked.

"The Enlightened One," she replied, "holds regular... orgies for lack of a better word, but there is no sex-- at least not sex between two or more people. These are mechanical orgies making use of almost every modern or ancient form of mechanical stimulation. The Sybian factory has had to work overtime to keep up with the demand."

"And you think I can provide better machinery?" I said with a laugh.

"That is without question," she said, also laughing. "But can you provide the type of machinery that Homeland Security would like The Community of Eden to order?"

"I would have to see the warrants first," I said. "This is on US soil and I assume The Enlightened One is a US citizen."

"Scrupulous as ever," she said as she took a folder out of the black satchel she was carrying and slid it across the table. Then she added, "I think you will especially appreciate the last page."

The folder contained several pages of authorizations from federal, state, and international courts to "surveil by whatever means necessary any and all members or leaders of The Community of Eden." I had never seen such a broad search warrant, if that was what this was, but it evidently passed legal muster because the opinion of several federal judges was also attached.

The last page was a short paragraph that said, "Homeland Security, or its designated operators, are authorized to use lethal force, if necessary, to thwart the actions of the leaders or members of The Community of Eden." I recognized the top signature as the President of the United States. The series of initials which covered most of the rest of the page I assumed were the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Such high level authorization was normally reserved for assassination orders.

"I don't want it to come to this," she said. "And you are our only way in to find out what is really going on there."

"What do you know about this Son of Seth?" I asked.

She laughed and then grimaced before saying, "Practically nothing. His real name is David Allen Carter. He was known as a super nerd through high school and college. He has an advanced degree in biology and another in specialized computer science, but never held a job. Right after college he started collecting followers and calling himself The Esteemed Son of Seth."

"What do you know about how he operates?" I asked.

"Not much," she replied. "We know nothing about his internal workings. No one has ever left the cult... No one! The few men... or women... who have been extorted and will talk about it say that they were invited to one of the parties and went to their room afterwards with an Adam or an Eve. All of the members of the community take the name Adam or Eve when they join. So it is Adam Mark or Eve Susan or whatever. The targets didn't remember anything after that until they got the images and the very veiled blackmail notes."

"So can't you get them on blackmail?" I asked.

Lacy laughed. "They are very careful. The notes just say something like, 'I thought you would like a remembrance of our evening together,' and are signed by the Adam or Eve who was with them." She frowned and took a deep breath before saying, "That would never hold up in court. One judge I checked with said if that was blackmail, then so was every amusement ride photo that showed someone with their date... or their mistress."

She paused and then continued, "It isn't until a couple weeks later that they get a message from the same person saying that they have severe personal problems and need money. Again, not legally blackmail, but everyone knows what is at stake, especially since a specific amount is stated in the message. We are totally stymied."

"So you want me to go to one of these parties and try to sell The Enlightened Son of Seth some erotic machines with built in bugs to spy on him."

"I love working with you," Lacy said with a smile. "I never have to explain what we want."

I sat thinking for a few moments. "It would have to be something well above anything on the open market," I said slowly, "and it would have to be at a bargain price... not too cheap or it would look like a trap, but cheap enough to be enticing." I smiled at her and said, "Someone would have to cover my losses in the sale as well as my time and other expenses."

Her voice-- and face-- became very devoid of emotion or expression as she said, "If we have high enough authorization to kill him, I don't think you have to worry about what you are authorized to spend."

"I want it in writing," I said softly. "Not that I don't trust YOU, but if really important people are under this guy's enlightened thumb, a lot of things could go sideways."

She pulled another folder out of her satchel and slid it across the table. "This is your copy of all of the authorizations, plus one."

I opened the folder. The packet looked identical except for one loose page at the front. It contained only a few sentences. "As a matter of utmost national security, Mister W is hereby authorized to surveil, interact with, and neutralize any member or leader of The Community of Eden up to and including using lethal force. Because of the extreme threat to our nation posed by this cult, this authorization overrides all local, state, and, in some cases, federal laws which would impede Mister W's efforts to totally neutralize the insidious actions of The Enlightened Son of Seth, his successors, and other members of The Community of Eden." The page contained all of the signatures and initials from the last page of the packet.

"Wow," I said, truly surprised. "This is the equivalent of a declaration of war. Why not just bomb their compound and be done with it?"

"That was considered," Lacy said with a grimace. "But the sons and daughters of too many important people are involved in the cult. And we need to know for sure how this cult is controlling them. Standard deprogramming efforts haven't worked, even when done by specialists from Big Brother."

She looked me directly in the eyes and I said curtly, "Don't say it. Don't you dare say it."

"Don't say what?" she said, obviously flustered.

"What you were about to say," I replied. "The last time someone said I was their only hope, I came within a whisker of being blown up."

"But you are," she said flatly. "Don't think we haven't tried with our own agents."

"How many agents have you lost?" I asked.

"Five," she replied flatly. "They are now Eve Lorain, Eve Alicia, Eve Gloria, Adam Seth, and Adam Frank." She paused and then said, "And all five had extensive anti-duress training."

"Well," I said as I picked up the folder, "let's hope that Adam W doesn't decide to join The Community of Eden."

She snapped her fingers and her bodyguards came over to the table. She stood up between them and they walked out to the black SUV which was idling at the entrance. I walked over to the counter with four more fifties held in my hand and asked the man behind the counter, "You ever see the Men in Black movies?"

He nodded and I continued, "That lady is much more dangerous than Agents Alpha through Zed combined. And she doesn't have a neuralizor. If she-- or I-- find out that you told anyone about anything you will just disappear... forever."

I dropped the four fifties on the counter and walked out to my car.

Chapter Two - The Ark of Eden

You would think that a diabolical cult like The Community of Eden would keep a low profile, but such was not the case. In fact, it was almost the opposite. They had a website and used popup ads on Facebook, Snapchat, Reddit, Tiktok, and other social media. Obviously, they didn't say that they were a evil, mind-controlling cult. Instead they extolled the virtues of the great life of peace and contentment which could be found by following the wisdom of The Esteemed Son of Seth.

Several different contact avenues were presented, but I used none of them. Instead, I sent an email to the billing channel used by the local Sybian dealer. I knew her and called upon her patriotic spirit to help me set up an appointment to talk to The Son of Seth about some new machines. As expected she told me that I could sit on one of her machines and swivel 'til hell froze over. Her business spirit was much more open to my request, however. The price we settled on was probably the equivalent of a couple years profit for her, but I effectively had an unlimited budget... and it wasn't my money.

It only took three tries to get a response from an Adam Richard who gave me a telephone number and a time to call. I did. The man I spoke to did not identify himself but listened to my initial sales pitch and invited me to a "gathering" at The Community of Eden's main campus. "Be prepared to stay at least overnight," he said in his annoyingly mellifluous voice.

I arrived in a brand new, white Jeep Gladiator with a matching cover and cap. If these Jeeps look bastardized with an open pickup bed, they look doubly so with a matching bed cap. I was hoping that the unique look of my ride would cause any security to be slightly distracted as they searched it, but that was not the case. I was stopped at the gate and four men and two women went over that truck with a fine-toothed comb. They didn't just put mirrors under it, they drove it up on two long ramps and the two women slid under it with flashlights and some sort of wand sensor. They even unloaded the skid containing my display machine from the back and subjected it to the same rigorous examination.

The tailgate had been modified so it opened even with the raised floor, so that helped, but someone very familiar with the Gladiator might see that something wasn't right. Fortunately none of them were intimately familiar with a Jeep pickup so they didn't realize that the floor of the bed had been raised by about three inches. None of the electronics hidden there were active in any way and the metal of the weapons was obscured by all the metal of the frame and truck bed so nothing triggered their scans.

When I reviewed my plans with Lacy, she had balked a little at the cost of the Jeep Gladiator until I asked her, "How long would it take you to notice that the bed of a Ford F150 had been raised three inches?"

She sighed slightly and said, "Right, as usual." Then she said, "Don't bother clearing any other plans or expenses with me. I trust you... I have to."

Despite their thorough search, the weird-ass Gladiator did what it was supposed to do, which was confuse the hell out of the security people. After everyone was satisfied I wasn't hiding anything in my truck, or in my suitcase, or on my person, I was told to follow the little golf cart up to the Ark of Eden. I laughed inwardly at them calling the main facility an ark until I rounded the last corner. Sitting there among a village of small houses and one large building was an ark well above Biblical proportions. The golf cart threaded its way over to the large building where an open loading bay door was awaiting us. It closed after we drove inside.

"You will be staying on the second floor," my escort said in an almost sing-song voice. "Your equipment will be brought up to you."

I pointed to the skid in the back of the truck and said, "This equipment needs to be properly assembled and tested. I can't do that in my room. Why can't I just work here?"

He cocked his head so that he almost looked like a puppy awaiting a treat. Then he said, "That is allowed, but you will need an escort to and from your room." He handed me a small card and said, "Put this in the entrance lock at the elevator when you need to go up to your room. Someone will come down to escort you."

I got out my tool boxes and began the assembly of my masterpiece. Before beginning, I carefully covered the floor and the back of the truck with tarps. I wasn't going to be working with any liquids and the device didn't need to be protected from the dust on the floor, but the tarp concealed the back of the truck from the security cameras.

It took me about two hours to get everything ready. The machine itself only needed to be unfolded from the travel position and connected together. The rest of the time I spent looking like I was adjusting things. I had to keep climbing back into my truck for a specific tool or at least that is what it was supposed to look like to whoever was watching me through the cameras which were mounted all around me. What I was really doing was retrieving everything I needed from within the floor of the Jeep. By the time I was finished, the bugs were in place but dormant, and I had transferred to a new hiding place the necessary weaponry and other things I might need to remain just W, not Adam W.

After everything was in place, I pulled a small, four-wheel, white plastic cart out of the back of the truck and loaded the machine and two of my toolboxes onto it. I rolled everything over to the elevator and inserted the card the original escort had given me. As expected, the two men who came down to get me carefully searched the tool boxes and gave my machine a close inspection. They did not, however, notice that the base of the cart was a little thicker than it really needed to be. Had they used wands, they might have triggered on the guns and other equipment enclosed in the base, but they probably would have attributed that to the steel in the machine itself.

The room was the equivalent of an upscale hotel suite. I was told to stay there until the gathering was ready to begin. "Don't forget I have to set this up," I said firmly to Adam William.

He nodded and replied, "Don't worry, we will take you down there in plenty of time."

I lay on the bed and pretended to scroll through social media on my cellphone. I was hoping that there weren't any active monitors sniffing for electronics because the special phone-charger base I had plugged in on the side table was actually locating any audio or video recording devices in the room and displaying them on my phone. As expected, there was one in each wall and three directly over the bed for a total of seven devices. I breathed a sigh of relief when no hard wired microphones were detected. My jammers could neutralize them also, but it would be harder to explain why they failed. After a few minutes, I placed the phone in the slightly oversized charger stand on the bedside table. Then I actually went to sleep.

A knock on the door awakened me. "Mister W," Adam William said softly, "it is time for you... and your machine... to come down to the gathering."

Chapter Three - A Mechanical Orgy

I followed Adam William and-- as strange as it sounds-- Adam Adam down the hallway to the elevator. As I pushed my machine cart into the elevator, I expected to go down to a lower floor but instead we went all the way up to the top. The display said "Roof," but it was actually a huge, glass enclosed room with large fronds and even palm trees dotted throughout. The leafy fronds were real, as were the flowers which lent their scent to the room. The palm trees, however, were very excellent fakes. They might have fooled even me except for the fact that they were all exactly identical. And every one of them had two identical breaks in the bark covering the trunk about a foot below the top. The marks looked like some of the bark covering had sloughed off or been struck by something, but I recognized the characteristic slightly-larger-than pinhole openings of a high grade surveillance camera. Everything that happened within this glass penthouse garden would be recorded.