Ghost in the Machine Ch. 09byBlind_Justice©
"You know, I wouldn't have minded," Violet purred, grinding her behind into me. She took my hands and placed them on the front of her jacket, held together by only one button. My fingers brushed over the expensive fabric and slithered under it, caressing her tits. I pinched both her nipples and she growled in her throat.
"Today, it's just you and me, honey. I don't want any distractions," I murmured, nibbling at her ear.
"Oh, boss, I like the way you say that, makes me feel so wanted," Vi sighed.
"Come on, get me naked already," she urged me on, bumping her behind against me. Instead of humoring her, I bent low and nibbled at the soft of her neck, teasing her even further. With slow, deliberate movements, my hands wandered down her front until I found the zipper on her right hip and pulled it down, slowly. She turned in my arms, lacing her fingers together behind my neck and pulled me in for a scorching kiss while the sheet of fabric dropped off her hip and pooled at her feet in a silky rustle. I dug my hands into the supple flesh of her behind and pulled her close while our tongues darted this way and that. Violet broke the kiss and smirked at me.
"You might want to be careful. The way I'm dripping, I may soil your pants, boss. And you don't want that, right?"
"I think I'll need to investigate, darling," I chuckled, flicking the last button on her jacket open and pushing her towards my desk. She shrugged out of the jacket, completely naked but for her knee-high leather boots, and sat on the edge of my high-end desk. Smiling provocatively, she placed one booted foot on the desktop and leaned back, offering her glistening sex for closer inspection. The holographic screen projection played around her body, framing her curves with blue static.
I leaned in and licked the inside of her propped thigh, causing her to sigh in approval. She pulled me closer by my belt buckle, nimbly unhooking it before fiddling with the buttons on my suit trousers. I kissed my way along her thigh, bracing myself at the edge of the desk.
"Hey, didn't I offer my help to get your thoughts off your troubles, boss," Violet purred, her fingers inside my trousers, teasing my rod.
"Oh, you are, baby, you are," I replied, before dragging my tongue over her soft, dripping folds. Not surprisingly, she was sopping wet, her clit a firm nubbin cresting her slit. I swirled my tongue around it a couple of times before licking her folds, exploring every inch I could reach. With a clatter of metal on stone, my trousers pooled around my feet. Almost on autopilot, I stepped out of them, my face still buried in her snatch. Vi dug her fingernails into my shoulders, holding onto me as she humped her hips into my face, liberally coating it with her juices. Only a moment later, she pulled my face up to hers, kissing and licking it hungrily.
"Damn, I love your tongue down there but please, boss, would you please feed that wonderful dick of yours to me," she moaned. Gently, I pulled her off the desk and placed her in my comfy office chair. Growling as if in heat, she leaned forward and slurped my dick between her lips, fondling my balls at the same time.
"I really love your enthusiasm, sweetheart," I huffed, gently fucking her mouth. With two fingers of one hand, she steadied my meat while licking, nibbling and sucking it, her other hand was busy between her thighs, making sloppy noises.
"And I can't get enough of that dick of yours, boss," Violet cooed, letting my meat slip out of her mouth. Grinning viciously, she rose from the chair, grabbed the edge of my desk, leaned down and pushed her behind out, invitingly spreading her legs. "And if you don't fuck me like your life depended on it, I'll have to resign," she chuckled, wriggling her ass my way.
"Oh no, we can't have that, can we," I snarled in mock anger. I grabbed her hips with one hand, lined up the head of my dick with the other and sent it home, in one long, slow push. Violet nearly shrieked as I invaded her. It didn't bother me. The office was quite soundproof, the only person privy to what was happening in here would be Gloria and I guessed that she was busy watching cam footage and playing with herself under the table.
"Now what, boss's meat too big for you," I grumbled, leaning into her, driving myself even deeper into her scalding depths.
"Never," Violet growled, pushing back, "but you're still not fucking the life out of me, boss."
"And here I thought I was being gentle to you, girl," I smirked before pulling out almost all the way.
"Fuck gentle. You already own me, boss. Now prove it," Violet snarled, again pushing back, unwilling to let me tease her. I rammed my meat home again, bending over her and playing with her gorgeous tits, relishing the warmth of her body against mine. To let her know the honeymoon period was over, I pinched both her nipples, causing her to squeal, then I picked up the pace. I plowed her none too gently, each thrust sending the newtonian cradle on my desk into a clicking fit. She thrust back nearly as ferociously, punctuating each of my hammerings with a sigh, a moan, a high-pitched squeal that echoed off the windows overlooking Central Los Angeles. One of her hands snaked between her legs, her fingers rubbing her clit, brushing against my dick pistoning in and out of her velvety center.
"Now... we're... talking, boss," she huffed, almost bent double over my desk, her pussy clenching down on me whenever I bottomed out. I felt my climax approach and ordered the Iron Stallion to postpone it. Dutifully, the implant dialled down the sensations pulsing through my dick, leaving the delicious feel of hot, wet friction to keep me going without overloading my nerve endings. Vi's breath became ragged, her movements lost much of that coordinatied feel as she went from smooth seductress to helplessly cumming mess. I viciously kneaded her behind, still drilling her with a vengeance as she tensed up, her hand a blur on her clit, her head thrown back. A moment later, she screamed. Not a helpless whimper of a woman in the throes of passion, this sounded like a war cry, a roar of defiance. She pushed back into me a final time, her pussy contracting and fluttering around me as she rode the waves of her orgasm. Then she slid off my pole and dropped to her knees, obviously not the least bit perturbed by the cool granite she knelt on. She almost brutally yanked on my wrists, forcing me into my office chair before she went to town on my dick again, her tongue greedily licking along the shaft, intent on bringing me off as well. I relaxed and released the damper the Iron Stallion had placed on my arousal, relishing her hot mouth wrapped around my dick. I caressed her naked shoulders before my hands wandered to the top of her skull, my fingers lacing into her hair. Violet made an approving sound and I felt her mouth relax around me. I pushed her head down, onto my dick, feeling my tip brush the entrance of her throat. Then I was in, fucking her throat. Violet's head bobbed up and down, she made happy noises as she took my dick, her tongue fluttering against me. Quickly coming up for air, our gazes locked and she grinned viciously.
"Cum for me, boss. I know I can do you better than your wife," she teased, before slurping down my dick again. I grabbed her head with both hands and fucked her mouth in earnest, feeling my balls boil over. She groaned around my dick, her hand pulling on my balls, the other digging deep into my buttcheek, and then I exploded, a hot fountain of cum shooting straight down her throat. Moaning, she let my dick slide from her mouth, pumping it vicously. The next ropes of cum hit her face and chest. Grinning sweetly, she sucked me between her lips again, licking up the next few spurts. I groaned blissfully as she cleaned me up, the Iron Stallion made sure I remained as hard as before. I dialled the sensations down a couple of notches, before it could become too uncomfortable, and let her feast on my dick for a few more moments.
Yes, she really did me better than my wife.
5:00 pm PST
Violet and I were far from done after that initial, frenzied bout of fucking. But it felt different. We made love on the guest sofa in my office, slow, tenderly.
I still wasn't sure why Violet was so fixated on me. She could easily have every man or woman she set her eyes upon but ever since that Cat incident she was almost pathologically fixated on me. Not that I minded. She was clever, efficient and could be irreverently sarcastic. Normally, I cracked down hard on any kind of insubordination or breach of protocol but Violet was clever enough to only let her professional facade down when it was just the two of us. And even then I never felt like she was asking for special treatment or rapid advancement.
It had all started out as a clandestine affair during a conference in New York, almost two years ago. The clichéd plot, really. We shared a suite of rooms, the drinks flowed freely, then she decided to try out the jaccuzi, I joined her after the third highball, and things went from there. The more Saphire became obsessed with her causes, with her looks, with her quest for eternal youth, the easier it became to let go in the arms of that blonde bombshell. The guilty conscience was there initially but Saphire never complained and Violet didn't either so all was well with me. I really couldn't complain, the fact that this young, brilliant woman craved me so badly almost made me feel young again.
With a ping, the elevator doors opened and I entered the lobby. Wilkes, our driver, joined me halfway to the doors, taking my briefcase and coat.
"G'day sir. How was work," he asked while opening the rear doors to the limo.
"Same old, same old, Wilkes," I said, sliding onto the exquisite leather upholstery. I took a can of lemonade from the cooler in the center console and greedily emptied it.
"Good to hear, sir," Wilkes said as he slid onto the driver's seat, starting up the car.
"All well at home," I inquired while Wilkes threaded the car through the L.A. rush hour.
"As far as I can tell, sir," he said, avoiding my gaze in the rearview.
I felt another pang of annoyance. Usually, Wilkes and I got along splendidly. No wonder as we spent about two hours each day together and he was one of the few persons in my vicinity with the liberty to speak freely. Seeing him avert his gaze was new to me.
"What happened," I snarled, crushing the empty lemonade can before dumping it into the waste receptacle.
"N-Nothing, sir," Wilkes stammered, nearly jumping a stop light.
"Don't fuck with me, Wilkes," I growled.
"It-it's your wife, sir. She asked me not to tell you."
"Tell me? What?"
"About the surprise she has planned for you, sir," Wilkes said, in a small voice.
"I fucking hate surprises," I snarled. When Mr. and Mrs. Vintner hired me to head their then fledgeling R&D department, they surprised me by also offering the hand of their daughter, "to further cement our relationship". It was clear as day they did that only to make it this much harder for me to move on if the job shouldn't pan out as I expected. And just like their parents, Saphire surprised me at the worst possible time by announcing her pregnancy, just as I made head of Mindlink's Special Operations division. Nothing good ever came from surprises and I had spent much of my time in recent years to eliminate most random factors from my life.
I massaged my temples and gnashed my teeth.
"Did she say what this 'surprise' would entail? Hopefully not another pregnancy," I growled.
"Sorry sir, that's all I know, sir," Wilkes answered, breathing a sigh of relief. We had nearly left Central behind and Wilkes was aiming for the Mulholland Drive, a route he knew I liked very much. In my younger days I would have taken one of the motorcycles still parked in our garage and tear down the curves on weekends but now, with my full-time job and no less full-time family, there was hardly any opportunity to do so anymore. I sighed wistfully.
"Did you say anything, sir," Wilkes inquired.
I didn't bother to answer. Instead I removed the tablet PC from its cradle in the passenger headrest and consulted my inbox. No news from the investigation team in Berlin yet. Who would have thought that the Shepherd chip I had installed alongside my sons' Mindlink implant would turn out so handy? I just hoped the team tracking him wasn't a bunch of incompetent fools.
A mail pinged into my inbox, courtesy of Violet. The subject line read "Doing a little overtime." Curious, I clicked it open. The mail contained only a still image of Gloria, spread-eagled naked on my desk, legs splayed wide, with Violet going at her snatch. Chuckling to myself, I quickly typed a reply.
"Don't overdo it, darling. And save the feed for me." Then I replaced the tablet and looked out of the window, my mind adrift.
5:30 pm PST
"I'm home," I snarled, striding into the foyer and slamming the door. Molly, our maid, waited next to the stairs leading up towards the second floor, wearing a long apron with "Kiss the chef" printed on it, a huge smile on her face.
"Welcome home, sir. If you would follow me, your wife wishes to see you," she purred. Then she turned and walked up the stairs. I nearly dropped my briefcase. Underneath the apron, she was naked, her dark-skinned ass swayed invitingly up the stairs. With a few quick steps I was at her side and stopped her by grabbing her elbow.
"What is the meaning of this," I asked, my scowling face only inches from hers. "You know, I could have you fired for this," I added. Molly smiled at me, leaned in and kissed me, full on the mouth.
"Sorry, sir, but your wife has made the contract with me. So, if anyone could fire me, it's her. Come on, I know you want this," she purred, placing my hands on her barely covered hips, writhing under my touch. "And I really wouldn't mind your dick up any of my holes. If you're as good in bed as your sons, then..." she began, leaving the rest dangling.
What was happening here during my absence? If I needed any confirmation that Saphire found her own amusement while I was earning our keep, I didn't need to look far. Molly had extricated her arm from my grasp and mounted the stairs, leaning casually against the handrail half a flight up so I had no choice but to look straight between her thighs. She obviously knew where I was looking as she spread her legs and ran her hand under the apron, teasing her folds.
"Coming," she purred, climbing the rest of the stairs. She turned into the hallway that led to the master bedroom. I followed suit. With a flourish and a bow, which brought her nose so close to my fly that she could easily rub it against my crotch, Molly opened the door. I threw a quick look inside. On the bed, spread-eagled and bound to the bedposts with shockingly colorful silk scarves, was my wife. She wore a school uniform, complete with starched socks and plaid skirt, her blouse invitingly opened, one of her surgically enhanced tits almost falling out. Slowly, her head turned and she leered my way.
"Oh teacher, I've been a bad girl," she purred, licking her lips. Molly brushed past me, shedding the apron in the process. Wearing only her birthday suit and displaying a really nice set of curves, she climbed into bed, kneeling over my wife's head, grinding her shaved pussy onto Saphire's mouth.
I knew she was doing it for my benefit as much as hers but seeing Saphire there, in total slut mode, was more sobering than a bucketful of ice water. I turned on my heel, closed the bedroom door and went over to my home office instead, locking the door behind me. There was no way I was playing along.
I walked over to the small, well-stocked bar and helped myself to a double-strength whiskey and soda. Sipping the drink, I flopped into the office chair. Before I could take another sip, my implanted cell pinged. I leaned back, closed my eyes and took the call.
"Mr. Squier? This is Hendrikson, Mindlink London security. You have asked us to find the wearer of the Shepherd chip model number zero-five-zero-zero-seven Papa Sierra. I'm calling to let you know that we have pinpointed the location and are about to start extraction. If you want, you may join us via direct feed on channel eighteen, executive encryption level."
"Thank you, Mister Hendrikson. Stand by," I acknowledged before severing the connection. I fished a Mindlink cable out of a desk drawer and connected my replacement deck with my Mindlink jack. The original machine was still at R&D with Kent and his lackeys turning the whole system upside down bit by bit. The copy of the custom firmware worked flawlessly and, without apparent transition, I was able to access the 'Net. I pulled up the network system, dialled in channel eighteen and let my headware do the handshakes with the decryption modules. A moment later, I was whisked across the Atlantic. When the mad dash stopped, my whole vision was filled with tactical data overlaying a soldier's field of view. A small icon at about chin level signalled that I was now riding shotgun in his helmet computer, using the data his helmet delivered straight into his brain.
"Alright, Mr. Hendrikson. What's the situation? Where are we?"
"This is Tempelhof Market, an unregistered open-air point of sale. By what we have seen so far, it's all pretty illegal, sir," the security trooper explained.
"So, what's the plan," I inquired. In answer, Hendrikson pulled up a satellite map of the area which quickly panned and zoomed to show the position of his four squadmates and a steadily glowing, barely moving dot. The soldiers had surrounded a rather large stall, more a small complex of two sheds and a stage placed on end of each other.
"This looks like a slave pen of some sort," Hendrikson explained while the building his troop had surrounded blinked. The glowing dot was in the middle of one of the sheds. "Our scanners show about fourty lifesigns total, spread across these sheds and the stage."
"My son is one of them," I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. What have you done, Parker? Got yourself kidnapped by slavers? Or are they just waiting to ransom you off?
"Unknown, sir. As you may have noticed, the place is quite heavily fortified. I don't think they'll let us in to have a look," Hendrikson said, dismissing the map. Obediently, it shrunk to stamp size and withdrew to the top right corner of his vision. Instead, his gaze travelled from left to right, the threat assessment routines in his helmet outlining the bulky guards in red auras.
"You are sure this is not under German jurisdiction? Or any rival corporation's," I asked, tense.
"Positive. This, sir, is urban wasteland at its best. No one will care if we knock some heads around," Hendrikson snickered, the medical data in the bottom left showed an increase in heart rate, blood pressure and arousal levels. The guy was itching for a fight.
"All right, gentlemen. I hereby authorize the use of lethal force. Get my son out of there, in one piece, preferrably." I willed my headware to transmit the neccessary authorization codes. The status readouts indicating weapon readiness switched from red to green. The team was equipped with the latest IntelliGun models, directly keyed into the threat assessment routines of the helmet. As long as the target didn't appear armed the weapon would not fire even if pointed at the face and if the trigger was pulled. No need to make a bigger mess than necessary.
"Team, sound off," Hendrikson barked.
"This is Two, go-ahead received and ready."
"Three. Rock'n'roll, sir!"
"Four. Loaded and ready."
"Five. Let's do this."
"Affirmative, team. Let's do this," Hendrikson snarled, raising his left hand. The small pneumatic grenade launcher mounted to his forearm plating coughed once, releasing a micro-flashbang. The coin-sized explosive landed between the guards. I didn't see or hear any explosion, the dampening equipment in the helmet effortlessly filtered out the strobe flash and noise. The people around Hendrikson went into a panic, dispersing quickly as the squad leader calmly raised the rifle, pressed the stock against his shoulder and killed the guards with perfectly aimed headshots. A moment later, similar noises erupted around the perimeter of the slave pen. But instead of the calm, measured coughing of the silenced IntelliGuns, the throaty roar of large-caliber, automatic fire erupted.