prospect of winning large sums of money through gambling on rigged games. I had been aware for years that many pro players, particularly LaSorda's Dodgers, were mind-controlled and triggered to win or lose according to their owners' bets and favors. The Dodgers, Reagan's 'favorite American pastime' ball team continuously won, including the World Series during his Administration. The Mafia was in on the bet rigging, and information was passed to certain ones through Thornburgh and others as gleaned from my 'baseball computer' programming[38].
To this day I am not certain who instigated the plastic surgery to which I was forcibly subjected, but soon after meeting Reagan and Dante I was scheduled for breast implants. Perhaps it was done for pornography. Perhaps it was Reagan's preference. I tend to believe it was a combination of the two and ordered since my breasts were no longer lactating. In the first commercial porn film Reagan had directed Dante to produce in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands my breasts were still tender and swollen from silicone implant surgery.
My appearance was not the only 'make over' I endured after meeting Reagan. Aquino and I were called to Washington, D.C. to revise my base core programming to override Senator Byrd's control for security reasons. Since Reagan had been shot, he took extra precautions to ensure his safety which included directing Aquino as to how he wanted rne programmed. Much to Aquino's dismay and embarrassment, Reagan admired the occult role that this Army Lt. Colonel played for mind-control traumatization purposes, as it fit in with the public promotion of religion Reagan had launched. Reagan claimed to believe that the masses were easiest to manipulate through their religion, as were mind-controlled slaves like myself.
While Reagan had Aquino in D.C., he demanded that he wear his black ritual robes to a White House party to reinforce the controlling superstitions of a few South/Central American diplomats. Aquino appeared foolish in the eyes of his peers. They knew Aquino's image was only a guise for Psychological Warfare, but his appearance at the White House in costume made Aquino look like he believed his own facade. Aquino got even with Reagan. Minutes before I was prostituted to Reagan that evening, Aquino ordered me into a closed side room where he very quickly had intercourse with me. When he finished ejaculating, he slapped me on the behind and disrespectfully said, 'Take that to the Chief.
Earlier that day, Reagan instructed Aquino how to program me in keeping with «spin» programming depicted in the 'How to' videos. 'Program it,' Reagan said, referring to me as though I were an object, 'under number one. I like the number one. It's the first, the best, and it promotes confidence — like 'I've won',' I observed Aquino giving him the intellectually disgusted look he reserved for anyone with the fortitude to make a suggestion to him, but tempered his reaction by giving some thought to the request. Since the 'How to' videos showed the 6th revolution to 'ignite the heat of hell' for sex, no one would suspect I had sex programming under the first revolution. It would take some modification of my initial programming, but Aquino was sold on the idea. By programming me according to Reagan's instruction, Aquino would be able to provide added protection for Reagan whereby any program I was under at the time would immediately become replaced by Reagan's number one as quickly as I saw him. This effective safety measure infuriated Byrd the first time he saw me instantaneously switch out of his control in Reagan's presence.
Additionally, Reagan discussed how Aquino could use me on various military and government installations to provide 'Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations' of the 'latest advancements in training' by displaying the diversity of my 'Presidential Model' programming. Reagan said the Hands On Demonstrations could 'educate our boys in the military to the wonders of the mind-control phenomena.' 'Hands On' meant my sex programming would be used to 'peak their interests and lock (bond) them in.' After all, 'entertaining the troops is a long time American tradition.' Aquino did the programming, and Reagan began making arrangements for the demonstrations — which brought me back around to Dick Cheney. Cheney would be acting in the capacity of my «Commander» for the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations and other covert operations from then on.
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,
I 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, I 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[39].
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 hitting me in the forehead. 'Wipe yourself up. You're just getting started. I'll see to it you get what you've got coming to you.'
Fortunately for me, Byrd had cause to return to the formal cocktail party and did not have time to brutalize me further. My face was battered, mouth torn, and my throat felt torn and stretched. I had difficulty swallowing for some time, and could not speak. I certainly was in no condition to return to the cocktail party, and was escorted out by agents/guards.
Before I could leave Washington, Byrd made good on his threat and arranged for me to meet with Cheney in a blue bedroom in a part of the White House so remote that 'no one could hear my screams and moans'. But Cheney implemented Oz theme «Silence» conditioning anyway as he proceeded to brutally sexually assault me.
'Byrd tells me you need a good whipping. But I'm not certain which instrument you prefer, so I brought them all.' Cheney had a riding crop, a whip, and a cat-o-nine-tails laid out on the bed. He beat me quick and hard as though he were releasing his tensions rather than savoring my pain like Byrd did. I regained consciousness when Cheney slid a pillow under my neck, steered me by the hair, and bent my head back. Survival instinct kicked in when he positioned himself above my head, I hoped to satisfy him before he became deadly brutal again. But he quickly pulled out his liquid cocaine sprayer, sprayed my throat, then proceeded to get rough. At one point he yanked my head aside and asked, 'Was that a tooth?' and grinned. It was imperative that I kept my teeth off him because, according to Aquino's programming instruction, I was subject to death if a tooth was ever felt by anyone.
