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CHAPTER 10
"COMMANDER" DICK CHENEY & REAGAN'S
"HANDS ON MIND-CONTROL DEMONSTRATIONS"
Please note: In order to maintain the integrity of documenting my experiences
using precise and photographic detail, I have recorded events and
quotes as they occurred in reality. Please excuse any offensive and foul
language, but this is the way Cheney presented himself,
1 was attending another White House cocktail party where, as usual, I was
taken aside for a meeting and escorted to a large office. There, Reagan and
Cheney were having their "before cocktail party" cognacs, and Reagan's cheeks
were already flushed. He was in a hurry and quickly explained the purpose of
the meeting,
"You're the kind of girl who could hold a man in line. (He was cryptically
referring to the lines of military personnel I was forced to have sex with.)
That's why I've selected you to tour a few Air Force Bases with the Colonel
(Aquino) and demonstrate for our boys in the service what a Presidential Model
is trained for, a kind of 'hands on' demonstration. But you'll have to audition
for the role." Reagan drained his glass and gestured toward Cheney as he
strode for the door, adding, "Do what he says. He's your commander."
It had been eight years since I had been hunted and brutalized by Cheney in
Wyoming, and apparently he wanted to see how my programming had
progressed before agreeing to use me in Reagan's "Hands-On Mind-Control
Demonstrations". He grabbed me roughly by the hair and slung me onto a
black leather chair, tipping my head backwards over the high studded arm.
"Audition here," he snarled. Since I last saw him, 1 had undergone Wizard Of
Oz Tin Man programming, which he accessed to accommodate his large, thick
penis. He placed his hands on my jaw while he said, "Soon we'll have you
purring like a wetl oiled machine. All of your moving parts are pivotal and
gliding with ease. Melt into my hands. I'll hold your jaw to keep it from
slipping while you slip through a window in lime." He then jerked my jaw out
of joint, and roughly gratified himself in my throat. 1
As he lit his cigarette, I slowly regained focus enough to realize I was in
pain. The back of my head hurt from being thrust into the studs on the chair,
and I slowly lifted my head. My owner, Senator Byrd, had just walked in and
realized Cheney had already completed the "audition". Referring to
compartmentalizing my memory via stun gun high voltage, Byrd asked, "Did
you fry her?"
Cheney, 'cocksure' of himself as always, answered. "She can't have fucked
all of Washington" (indicating that no one would believe me anyway, even if I
did reach this point and talk). Cheney put out his cigarette and said as he went
out the door, "She'll work. Tell Ronnie she'll work."
When Byrd saw that my lips were bleeding, he called Cheney a "son of a
bitch" under his breath, as this damage would prevent my fulfilling other
assignments that were planned for me. Byrd touched his finger to my swollen
lips and tasted the blood (and Cheney) several times. Then he slapped me hard
across the face, which re-aligned my jaw but caused more blood to flow down
my chin. He took a box of tissues from the desk and threw it at me, the corner