K
Krunch
Guest
Prologue
The movement really started at the beginning of the 21st century when President Bush began funding religious organizations that did charitable work. Not surprisingly, some of the money found its way to other uses, mainly lobbying and advertising. This enabled the religious right to increase their voice in political affairs. At the same time, they took a lesson from the Muslim theocracies and vigilante groups began enforcing their morality on the rest of the citizens. When the Rev. Jonas Baxter was sworn in as President in 2013, he blurred the lines between church and state even more with the creation of the Department of Morality. The Secretary of Morality was given a position in the Cabinet behind only State and Defense. As the religious right's power grew, government turned a blind eye to the religious vigilantism, believing that when it came to people's souls, the end justified the means. By the late 2020's, the vigilante groups had consolidated under the name of the Angels of the Lord, and received funding from the government under the same rules that Bush created to fund charities. This is the story of one of their victims.
An Account Based on Megan's Experiences
Megan rarely went out of the house unaccompanied by her brother or father. A woman alone on the streets was assumed by many to be engaged in some form of illegal activity, usually prostitution or drug running. But her father was out of town on business and her brother was late getting home from basketball practice. Her mother was afraid to go out and someone needed to get groceries for dinner. So Megan donned the ankle length dress that she wore outside and went to the store.
As she was carrying the groceries back to the car, one of the bags broke and fruit began rolling around the parking lot. "Damn it," she cried out without thinking, then quickly looked around to see if anyone heard her. Swearing in public was a minor crime, unless the Angels of the Lord were nearby. Then it was much more serious.
There was one other couple nearby and they were looking at Megan. The man came over and helped her pick up the fruit without saying a word. When everything was put away, Megan got in her car and drove off. She didn't see the man write down her license number.
When Megan arrived at home, there was a car parked out front. She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Two men got out of the car in front of the house and came up to her. They were wearing the insignia of the Angels on their shoulders.
"Excuse me, Miss," one of them began, "but might we speak with you a moment?"
Megan was fearful just being this close to two of the Angels. She lowered her eyes to the ground in front of the men and asked how she might help them.
"We have had a report that the person driving this car, and fitting your description, swore in public. Was that you?"
Megan began to stammer, afraid to lie and afraid to tell the truth. "I might have said darn when my grocery bag broke," she finally admitted, thinking to plead to a lesser offense.
"Miss, we have a report that is at odds with that statement. Will you please come with us peacefully?"
"I am sure this is all a misunderstanding. May I take my groceries inside?"
"I am afraid you are right, there has been a misunderstanding." With that, the two men moved to either side of her and grasped her arms tightly. Then they led her to the car parked at the curb.
Megan struggled to escape their grasp, but they were too strong and practiced at this situation. She was quickly put in the car and it sped off.
After about fifteen minutes, the car pulled up to a warehouse. Megan was pulled from the car and taken inside the same way she was taken to the car, held firmly by the two men. Once inside, Megan could not make out anything because of the dim light compared to the bright sunshine she had just left. Once her eyes adjusted, she was able to see that she was being taken to the back where there was a table with three others in hooded robes sitting and waiting for her. On the table was a small tape player.
When they arrived at the table, the two men continued to hold Megan. The man seated in the middle motioned for the two men to release her. "You are not going to try to run away, are you?" he asked Megan.
"No, Sir," she replied.
"Good. Now tell us what happened in the parking lot."
"One of my grocery bags broke, Sir."
"What else happened?"
"A man helped me pick up some fruit."
"Did you say anything when the bag broke?"
"I might have said darn, Sir."
He reached over and pressed the button on the tape machine. It was a recording of a phone call. The woman's voice reported that a young woman used a curse word in public. She described Megan, and described her car, giving the license number.
"Is the statement from the witness true?" the man asked.
"No, Sir. It was accurate except for the fact that I did not swear."
The three people behind the table pulled their chairs together and whispered for several moments then rearranged themselves behind the table.
"What is your name?" the man asked.
"Megan, Sir."
"Megan, you have been found guilty of swearing in public and lying to the tribunal of the Angels of the Lord. Take her upstairs for repentance."
The two men grabbed her as they had before. "Wait," Megan called out. "I didn't do anything. Stop this. Don't."
The man signaled the two men holding Megan to wait. "Megan, you have just compounded your crime by challenging the tribunal. Out work is divinely inspired. By challenging us, you have challenged God. I wanted you to understand that what happens to you now is of your own doing. Take her away."
Megan was too shocked to respond. She had heard stories of what happened to people who challenged the Angels, but she had never known anyone who had done it.
The two men took her to the side of the room where there was an elevator to higher floors. They got in and one of the men pressed the button to go to the top floor.
"Just so you know, we will notify your family that you are in custody until you repent. We don't want them to worry about you." Megan did not respond, afraid to say anything for fear of making what was to come worse.
When the elevator reached the top floor, the men got out. There was hallway with about ten rooms on each side. They took Megan to one of the doors with a green light above the door. Other doors had red lights burning above them.
"Before you enter, you must remove your clothes," one of the men told her. "You must enter in the same manner you entered the world, to remind you of the innocence you were born with."
"I have to do what?" Megan managed to blurt out.
"Miss, I suggest that you do as asked. Every time you challenge us, a mark goes down in your record. Were you simply to accept the righteousness of what we are doing, and comply with our directions, another kind of mark, the good kind, goes in your record. Do I make myself clear?"
Megan stared at him for a moment, too confused to speak or move. For the first time, it occurred to her that she was in real trouble here. The two men stood waiting for her to do something. Megan bent over and took the hem of her long dress in her hands, then slowly stood up, pulling it with her. She got it over her head and, after pulling her arms out, handed it to one of the men. They continued to stare impassively at her, showing neither surprise, nor amusement, that she had put the dress on over other clothes. Megan kicked off her shoes and paused, wondering if, actually hoping that, they would stop her. When they did not, she pulled the cord on her shorts and unbuttoned them, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them. Next came her blouse and it joined the pile on the floor.
Now she was standing in just her panties and bra. "Please," she begged, "isn't this enough?"
"Your plea would have carried more weight if it was made before you were already half naked," one of the men said. By waiting until after you removed your outer garments, it rings false to me."
Megan knew there was no truth to what he had said. She was a modest girl, but still, despite the expanse of skin she was showing, still felt clothed. Knowing that there was nothing she could do, she reached behind her and undid the snaps on her bra. With one arm across her chest, she slid the straps down to her elbows. Trying to remain covered as best she could, she slipped the bra off.
Finally, with tears in her eyes, she lowered her arm and used a single hand to push her panties over her hips and bottom, bending to push them down past her knees until they fell to the floor. Again she stepped out of them and stood naked in front of the men, one arm across her breasts and the other covering her pubic mound.
One of the men reached around her and opened the door. There was no light at all in the room. Megan turned and stepped inside, standing in the illumination from the hallway. She saw the light on the floor shrink as the door was closed behind her. As soon as it snapped shut, a spotlight came on, shining down on her from across the room.
A voice from a loudspeaker told her to walk forward and stay in the spotlight. Megan, still covering herself as best as she could, timidly moved forward. The spotlight seemed to move at her pace, not its own, and soon she was standing in front of a small table. The voice told her to stop.
"There is a hood on the table," the voice continued. "Put it on. Hesitation on your part will be punished."
Megan reached down and picked up the black leather hood. It had mouth, ear, and nose holes, but no opening for her eyes. It had a zipper that ran from the neck to the chin and a strap was woven into the leather at the neck that had buckles on both ends. She pulled it over her head and her nose was overwhelmed by the scent of sweat in the leather.
"Very good," said the voice. "Now zip it up and buckle it."
Megan did as she was told, trembling with fear at being nude and denied the use of her sight.
"Your obedience is commendable," the voice announced. Then it said the words that sent a chill to Megan's heart. "Prepare her."
She heard footsteps approach, but she could not tell if they were men or women. She assumed that they were men and felt the humiliation that comes with being naked in the presence of clothed strangers. The men, as she thought of them, quickly locked leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Then Megan heard a chain being lowered. When it stopped, one of the men positioned her so the chain was at her back and, one at a time, her wrists were hooked to the chain. Then she heard the chain begin to retract and felt her arms pulled up behind her. Soon she was bent at a right angle, her torso parallel to the floor and her breasts hanging down. But the chain did not stop. It continued pulling her upward until her feet left the floor.
Now she was hanging in an inverted V. Her shoulders began to ache within seconds of taking the strain of her weight, then the ache turned to fire. She cried out in pain, an animal sound, and began panting to try and change her focus to anything but the pain in her shoulders. Her body began to perspire from every pore of her body and in moments she was covered with a sheen of perspiration that sparkled in the spotlight that was still trained on her and of which she was not aware.
"We are going to save your soul today, Megan," a voice whispered in her ear. "But in order to do that, your body will have to feel the pain. Nod if you understand."
Megan didn't understand anything except the excruciating pain in her shoulders. But somehow the directive to nod made it through to her pain-fogged brain and she nodded her head.
"Megan, if you remain in this position too long, your arms will become useless. The nerves controlling them are going to die unless you get some relief. Nod if you understand."
Once again, Megan nodded, this time understanding completely. She used every bit of her concentration to listen to the voice, willing to do anything to relieve the pain in her shoulders.
"Megan, did you sin today?"
Megan nodded vigorously, afraid to trust her voice to get the words out.
"Did you swear in public, corrupting others within the sound of your voice?"
Again Megan nodded.
"And did you lie to cover up your sin?" Another nod followed.
"And did you challenge the authority of the tribunal of the Angels of the Lord?"
Megan could stand no more. "Yes," she cried out. "Please make it stop. Please help me."
"Just a little longer, Megan. And finally, did you murder your brother today?"
"Oh God, yes, I killed him. Please let me down. I did it, I confess. Make the pain stop, please oh God, make the pain stop."
"Megan, we know you did not kill your brother. But now, how can we believe that your confession is a sincere attempt to repent. Clearly, you will say anything to be released. Is that correct?"
"Yes, yes, no," Megan cried out. "I was confused. I didn't kill my brother, but I did all of the other things. I thought I killed him, but I was wrong."
"Do you want to kill him, Megan?"
"No, I love him. He is my brother. I wouldn't hurt him." The words came out slowly; Megan's breathing was labored.
The movement really started at the beginning of the 21st century when President Bush began funding religious organizations that did charitable work. Not surprisingly, some of the money found its way to other uses, mainly lobbying and advertising. This enabled the religious right to increase their voice in political affairs. At the same time, they took a lesson from the Muslim theocracies and vigilante groups began enforcing their morality on the rest of the citizens. When the Rev. Jonas Baxter was sworn in as President in 2013, he blurred the lines between church and state even more with the creation of the Department of Morality. The Secretary of Morality was given a position in the Cabinet behind only State and Defense. As the religious right's power grew, government turned a blind eye to the religious vigilantism, believing that when it came to people's souls, the end justified the means. By the late 2020's, the vigilante groups had consolidated under the name of the Angels of the Lord, and received funding from the government under the same rules that Bush created to fund charities. This is the story of one of their victims.
An Account Based on Megan's Experiences
Megan rarely went out of the house unaccompanied by her brother or father. A woman alone on the streets was assumed by many to be engaged in some form of illegal activity, usually prostitution or drug running. But her father was out of town on business and her brother was late getting home from basketball practice. Her mother was afraid to go out and someone needed to get groceries for dinner. So Megan donned the ankle length dress that she wore outside and went to the store.
As she was carrying the groceries back to the car, one of the bags broke and fruit began rolling around the parking lot. "Damn it," she cried out without thinking, then quickly looked around to see if anyone heard her. Swearing in public was a minor crime, unless the Angels of the Lord were nearby. Then it was much more serious.
There was one other couple nearby and they were looking at Megan. The man came over and helped her pick up the fruit without saying a word. When everything was put away, Megan got in her car and drove off. She didn't see the man write down her license number.
When Megan arrived at home, there was a car parked out front. She pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Two men got out of the car in front of the house and came up to her. They were wearing the insignia of the Angels on their shoulders.
"Excuse me, Miss," one of them began, "but might we speak with you a moment?"
Megan was fearful just being this close to two of the Angels. She lowered her eyes to the ground in front of the men and asked how she might help them.
"We have had a report that the person driving this car, and fitting your description, swore in public. Was that you?"
Megan began to stammer, afraid to lie and afraid to tell the truth. "I might have said darn when my grocery bag broke," she finally admitted, thinking to plead to a lesser offense.
"Miss, we have a report that is at odds with that statement. Will you please come with us peacefully?"
"I am sure this is all a misunderstanding. May I take my groceries inside?"
"I am afraid you are right, there has been a misunderstanding." With that, the two men moved to either side of her and grasped her arms tightly. Then they led her to the car parked at the curb.
Megan struggled to escape their grasp, but they were too strong and practiced at this situation. She was quickly put in the car and it sped off.
After about fifteen minutes, the car pulled up to a warehouse. Megan was pulled from the car and taken inside the same way she was taken to the car, held firmly by the two men. Once inside, Megan could not make out anything because of the dim light compared to the bright sunshine she had just left. Once her eyes adjusted, she was able to see that she was being taken to the back where there was a table with three others in hooded robes sitting and waiting for her. On the table was a small tape player.
When they arrived at the table, the two men continued to hold Megan. The man seated in the middle motioned for the two men to release her. "You are not going to try to run away, are you?" he asked Megan.
"No, Sir," she replied.
"Good. Now tell us what happened in the parking lot."
"One of my grocery bags broke, Sir."
"What else happened?"
"A man helped me pick up some fruit."
"Did you say anything when the bag broke?"
"I might have said darn, Sir."
He reached over and pressed the button on the tape machine. It was a recording of a phone call. The woman's voice reported that a young woman used a curse word in public. She described Megan, and described her car, giving the license number.
"Is the statement from the witness true?" the man asked.
"No, Sir. It was accurate except for the fact that I did not swear."
The three people behind the table pulled their chairs together and whispered for several moments then rearranged themselves behind the table.
"What is your name?" the man asked.
"Megan, Sir."
"Megan, you have been found guilty of swearing in public and lying to the tribunal of the Angels of the Lord. Take her upstairs for repentance."
The two men grabbed her as they had before. "Wait," Megan called out. "I didn't do anything. Stop this. Don't."
The man signaled the two men holding Megan to wait. "Megan, you have just compounded your crime by challenging the tribunal. Out work is divinely inspired. By challenging us, you have challenged God. I wanted you to understand that what happens to you now is of your own doing. Take her away."
Megan was too shocked to respond. She had heard stories of what happened to people who challenged the Angels, but she had never known anyone who had done it.
The two men took her to the side of the room where there was an elevator to higher floors. They got in and one of the men pressed the button to go to the top floor.
"Just so you know, we will notify your family that you are in custody until you repent. We don't want them to worry about you." Megan did not respond, afraid to say anything for fear of making what was to come worse.
When the elevator reached the top floor, the men got out. There was hallway with about ten rooms on each side. They took Megan to one of the doors with a green light above the door. Other doors had red lights burning above them.
"Before you enter, you must remove your clothes," one of the men told her. "You must enter in the same manner you entered the world, to remind you of the innocence you were born with."
"I have to do what?" Megan managed to blurt out.
"Miss, I suggest that you do as asked. Every time you challenge us, a mark goes down in your record. Were you simply to accept the righteousness of what we are doing, and comply with our directions, another kind of mark, the good kind, goes in your record. Do I make myself clear?"
Megan stared at him for a moment, too confused to speak or move. For the first time, it occurred to her that she was in real trouble here. The two men stood waiting for her to do something. Megan bent over and took the hem of her long dress in her hands, then slowly stood up, pulling it with her. She got it over her head and, after pulling her arms out, handed it to one of the men. They continued to stare impassively at her, showing neither surprise, nor amusement, that she had put the dress on over other clothes. Megan kicked off her shoes and paused, wondering if, actually hoping that, they would stop her. When they did not, she pulled the cord on her shorts and unbuttoned them, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them. Next came her blouse and it joined the pile on the floor.
Now she was standing in just her panties and bra. "Please," she begged, "isn't this enough?"
"Your plea would have carried more weight if it was made before you were already half naked," one of the men said. By waiting until after you removed your outer garments, it rings false to me."
Megan knew there was no truth to what he had said. She was a modest girl, but still, despite the expanse of skin she was showing, still felt clothed. Knowing that there was nothing she could do, she reached behind her and undid the snaps on her bra. With one arm across her chest, she slid the straps down to her elbows. Trying to remain covered as best she could, she slipped the bra off.
Finally, with tears in her eyes, she lowered her arm and used a single hand to push her panties over her hips and bottom, bending to push them down past her knees until they fell to the floor. Again she stepped out of them and stood naked in front of the men, one arm across her breasts and the other covering her pubic mound.
One of the men reached around her and opened the door. There was no light at all in the room. Megan turned and stepped inside, standing in the illumination from the hallway. She saw the light on the floor shrink as the door was closed behind her. As soon as it snapped shut, a spotlight came on, shining down on her from across the room.
A voice from a loudspeaker told her to walk forward and stay in the spotlight. Megan, still covering herself as best as she could, timidly moved forward. The spotlight seemed to move at her pace, not its own, and soon she was standing in front of a small table. The voice told her to stop.
"There is a hood on the table," the voice continued. "Put it on. Hesitation on your part will be punished."
Megan reached down and picked up the black leather hood. It had mouth, ear, and nose holes, but no opening for her eyes. It had a zipper that ran from the neck to the chin and a strap was woven into the leather at the neck that had buckles on both ends. She pulled it over her head and her nose was overwhelmed by the scent of sweat in the leather.
"Very good," said the voice. "Now zip it up and buckle it."
Megan did as she was told, trembling with fear at being nude and denied the use of her sight.
"Your obedience is commendable," the voice announced. Then it said the words that sent a chill to Megan's heart. "Prepare her."
She heard footsteps approach, but she could not tell if they were men or women. She assumed that they were men and felt the humiliation that comes with being naked in the presence of clothed strangers. The men, as she thought of them, quickly locked leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Then Megan heard a chain being lowered. When it stopped, one of the men positioned her so the chain was at her back and, one at a time, her wrists were hooked to the chain. Then she heard the chain begin to retract and felt her arms pulled up behind her. Soon she was bent at a right angle, her torso parallel to the floor and her breasts hanging down. But the chain did not stop. It continued pulling her upward until her feet left the floor.
Now she was hanging in an inverted V. Her shoulders began to ache within seconds of taking the strain of her weight, then the ache turned to fire. She cried out in pain, an animal sound, and began panting to try and change her focus to anything but the pain in her shoulders. Her body began to perspire from every pore of her body and in moments she was covered with a sheen of perspiration that sparkled in the spotlight that was still trained on her and of which she was not aware.
"We are going to save your soul today, Megan," a voice whispered in her ear. "But in order to do that, your body will have to feel the pain. Nod if you understand."
Megan didn't understand anything except the excruciating pain in her shoulders. But somehow the directive to nod made it through to her pain-fogged brain and she nodded her head.
"Megan, if you remain in this position too long, your arms will become useless. The nerves controlling them are going to die unless you get some relief. Nod if you understand."
Once again, Megan nodded, this time understanding completely. She used every bit of her concentration to listen to the voice, willing to do anything to relieve the pain in her shoulders.
"Megan, did you sin today?"
Megan nodded vigorously, afraid to trust her voice to get the words out.
"Did you swear in public, corrupting others within the sound of your voice?"
Again Megan nodded.
"And did you lie to cover up your sin?" Another nod followed.
"And did you challenge the authority of the tribunal of the Angels of the Lord?"
Megan could stand no more. "Yes," she cried out. "Please make it stop. Please help me."
"Just a little longer, Megan. And finally, did you murder your brother today?"
"Oh God, yes, I killed him. Please let me down. I did it, I confess. Make the pain stop, please oh God, make the pain stop."
"Megan, we know you did not kill your brother. But now, how can we believe that your confession is a sincere attempt to repent. Clearly, you will say anything to be released. Is that correct?"
"Yes, yes, no," Megan cried out. "I was confused. I didn't kill my brother, but I did all of the other things. I thought I killed him, but I was wrong."
"Do you want to kill him, Megan?"
"No, I love him. He is my brother. I wouldn't hurt him." The words came out slowly; Megan's breathing was labored.
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