Palms, Pegs, and Power

WHO IS THE YOUNG GIRL?

Worry less of that for the moment, she will reveal herself in time. You are in a very vulnerable position with enemies on the way. You will be asleep and you must use this time wisely. I will help you, Yekaterina, as always.

She was in her cream dress and heels in Control Room, irritated yet calm. Something plagued her and she wasn't certain what it was exactly, but she blamed Cabin Fever. She knew it wasn't that, but it would be what she would tell Mikhail the moment he noticed. All had gone tits up and she seethed.

She had reviewed reports, transmissions, and all documents regarding The Daniels Case. The poor woman had injected herself with a sample of a drug that was entirely incorrect and Robert McGray had made it so. The Shamrock File remained more active than was supposed. Bob Shamrock hadn't become the loyal and dutiful drug dealer everyone had seemed to bank on, but she had begun to figure out why.

FUCKING CHILD ASSASSINS!

She neglected to remember she had been young once with youthful emotions for attachment.

It was a picture in The Daniels Case and a picture in The Shamrock File that had irked her to the point she researched the area both pictures had taken place.

Yes, Yekaterina, the pictures. You couldn't tell Mikhail, he was too wrapped up in other things to serve his purpose. Yet, you could feel your purpose arriving. You should have waited. You were a pair born out of lust and blood. You were supposed to remain hidden, until . . We need you to remember. . .

The Island, Daybreak

He felt the blissful quake of his nerves as her extra wet tongue-tissues reorganized as a gift to Quiet Martha for her last birthday-dipped deep into anus. The suck and lick heightened the enormous delirium the deal with the military had given him and he cried into a mass of pillows and watched her from the screen in front of his face. The long curly haired sex machine massaged his large ass cheeks as she ate his asshole with a devotion that only bettered with each session. The over plump of her lips made it feel like a silk vacuum attachment with the softest loofah at the end in deep as it could reach. Her manicured grip on his flesh combined with the pressure on his prostate and Donkey Cock shuddered even harder as it pumped wads of pre-cum into the pillows.

The screen split into four sections to capture every angle of her work. He adored the crown on her head that maintained balance tied into her multi-colored hair dampened by sex, piss, and sea water. Her face was one big cosmetic smear of fluids and color-like a crazed sex clown. The thought made him laugh; the sensation made him jut into the soft bed with a deep groan followed by the gasp of the harnessed cock's entrance into his massively over-lubed cavity. His sphincter had gripped her tongue like it was a mouth that kissed back; suddenly suctioned onto the silicon swirled in color like her hair. She smiled and drooled in silence as her voice box no longer existed-his Christmas present. The room filled with the news of deep penetration. The words left him in a flood of gibberish and comical nonsense. It somewhat registered with her; but her brain was strictly wired for pleasure, predominantly his.

". .Princess Pussy Cocksalot needs to fuck Emperor harder. . even better than that time. . .ooooohhh..swirl...the...hips. . .deep. . ahhhhh....ooooohhhhh...love...my...ass, Princess...worship my ass like you did with your mouth . . ."

The burgundy silk sheets bunched under his grip as the bright white pillows sandwiched Donkey Cock like a soft loose pussy. The tease of his prostate by the press and slide of the phallus was almost too much. He was almost there, caught himself just the moment to pop off the dildo, turned to his side to aim the over-veined length of Donkey Cock at her face. and shot the gusher of white on her body like a potato gun with a gift for a crowd. The bellows of his orgasm echoed through the beach front condo. His face was a twist of pain and relief. He laughed as she shook the length like a hose to be sure he got it all out. His massively swollen body heaved into sitting position and he caught his breath for a few seconds in a light chuckle at the mess of her he had made.

She stood primed in a denied orgasmic state of her own. The rub of the harness against her enormous clit, one of the few natural bits left of her, had brought her to a state he would leave her. She shook as he wiped his dick on her leg and used a towel to pick her up like a jizz sock and then dropped into the large hamper in the over-sized bathroom for the maids to handle. He tossed in a few other towels on her head and closed the lid. She blinked into the nothingness and powered down like the nano tech inside her advised.

He whistled a fight song for some random sports team and rolled his eyes as he stepped into a pair of blue shorts. He planned to stay another day, but he was too keyed up about the future. He wanted to be back in the office in his brown suit amongst the yes-men and wall screens filled with his itinerary for the election and the administration. At the moment, he became fully structured in the knowledge he would no longer feel like a god, he had become one.

He opened a drawer next to the bed and pulled out a shirt from a local eatery. He looked at the mess in the room and enjoyed the thorough victory. The tin-tin sound of his phone echoed up the hall. He contemplated ignoring it, but he wanted to know everything. He controlled everything. He looked at the view screen on the bed and decided against it. He walked to the balcony and took the call from a keypad on his deck chair. Soon there would be a refreshing drink and paper on the small table next to it. "News?"

"I apologize for the early call, Mr. Mulholland. I have found her." Dr. Heart's voice was low with beeps of a hospital room in the background.

The large man on the over-sized blue and white deck chair smiled even bigger as waves from the morning sea crashed in the distance. He ignored the apology. "In what state?"

"A Jane Doe at City Hospital. I'm standing next to her bed. I've taken her case through one of your charities. Stolen Memories, Stolen Lives-coma patients and amnesiacs." The tired voice of the doctor held an angry edge that wanted to pierce the surface of every word.

"Monitor closely and stay with her as long as you can. She's connected to Rojas-I'm sure of it. As tempted as you to handle her medically, refrain. I want a chat with her when she wakes. Be sure she wakes and speaks to no one until I get there. I will be in City by nightfall."

In the hospital room, the fatigued form in a medical coat placed an index finger on the bandaged head of the comatose woman in gentle stroke with crude meaning. "Of course, Mr. Mulholland. I'm not a monster. . .during the daytime."

Phet Plasse Neighborhood, 2725 Avenue A, Early Morning

Little Girl tried to keep herself together by the tether Daddy had her, but her thoughts weren't present and her steps were rushed to escape them. The crystal leash was around her small naked waist and strained in distance from one thirty-something to another. Daddy knew something was wrong and he had them exit the house early for a walk that they never took unless it was absolutely necessary.

Her brunette locks were in a curly, sloppy braid and she couldn't seem to look at him. Her faux crystal slippers gave a ting-scrape sound as she led the way to the small lake at the center of the large alternative lifestyle driven neighborhood. She fought the tears, but lost. Once at the water's edge and near a large transplanted palm, she put her hands to her face and cried deeper than he had ever witnessed.

He dropped the leash and the crystal shattered in slivered bits against the rocks and grass. He gripped her into his coat and felt the soft dampness of her tears soak his shirt. He was more confused than worried; she would never leave him or be in any way unfaithful. She was the kind of woman he had always wanted even when he was ignorant and lonely. She clung to him like she had so early in their relationship, when she had night terrors and never could bring herself to explain them. He knew from research and from that ill-fated attempt for medical help that it was some form of PTSD.

They had both chosen to ignore it even though they had never vocalized it. They had found it was easier to become their escape. They had left his small apartment and invested themselves in the identically large houses of Phet Plasse, where the "freak" flags flew and no one's desire was out of bounds. They lived in the section of Daddies/Mommies and Littles/Middles. She had chosen to being Little all the time as the best way to be a perfect self and perfect partner for him. He found being a Daddy the most loving and secure of himself he had ever been in his life. They had been happy for quite some time and never failed to explore new lifestyle choices to further their quest to stay away from what they could never seem to discuss.

In that moment, he realized, whatever it was, had finally caught them. A moment he knew for a long time would come eventually, but it still felt too soon. He maintained his Daddy grip on her, the stroke of one hand down her back for calm, and the other in a steady hold against him. His insides boiled in dread like an echo of himself years ago, but he quelled it. He wasn't that fearful fiancé anymore, he wasn't the nervous boyfriend looking to white knight his way through her issues, he wasn't. . . he wasn't. . . He was Daddy and Daddy always fixed it. Daddy was the Law. Daddy was the Great Ferocious when she back talked or became bratty. Daddy could handle whatever the beast in the shadow was.

Then he heard the sultry voice, with the accent he only heard when she spoke in her sleep, faintly say into his left nipple of his polo, "Paul, I'm breaking."

He released her to make her look at him.

He wasn't going to lose his wife this way.

Her beautiful foreign face was puffy and red.

Her cute green eyes were scared and lost.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, then he picked her up in a scoop of his arms and rested on the ground against the tree. It felt so weird as their former and current lives collided, but his resolve was strong.

She rested her head of brown locks against his left shoulder, her naked body shivered then slightly relaxed in his grip under his jacket. He spoke with authority and reassurance of strength. "Little Girl, I've got you and you're in one piece. Tell Daddy who hurt you and how it happened."

She inhaled his scent and wished she had been stronger.

She had been better.

She should have screamed the moment Jane had appeared, but then it would've only delayed the inevitable.

Images flooded her mind like snake bites-flashes yet distinct.

The torturous beatings for Sadyt's fun on the rack filled with screams, tears, and blood.

The strict domestic servitude.

The endless games she always lost.

Then Jane appeared, who had rescued Heidi from everything . . .

until The Woman. . .

Dynamics had suddenly changed again and not in Heidi's favor . .

the furious fashion of implosion had taken place . .

Her real accented voice remained with the hollow inflection of a damaged person. "Daddy has never let anyone hurt Little Girl. Daddy has never let Little Girl ever feel sorrow or pain. Little Girl doesn't feel this way. Heidi hurts, Heidi cries, Heidi is scared."

He nodded and looked toward the lake to sigh. He remembered their first moment in the coffee house years before, the first time he held her hand, the first time he kissed her, the first time he fucked her, the first time he loved her, the first time he made love to her, the shaky proposal, the nervous but excited YES, the traditional yet small wedding, the hilarious honeymoon filled with all kinds of nontraditional antics, and the settled moment of all was well.

In all things of Life, at some point, there was never enough time.

"Heidi," he began meekly, but cleared his throat and used his Great Ferocious voice. "Heidi, who hurt you and how did it happen?"

She kept her left palm on his chest. He had been her anchor for a very long time and such time had come for her to protect and arm him because her past had caught them. She intended not to lose her husband or her life with him because of Sadyst and The Woman. She shuddered as she spoke, but her words held a strength that surprised her.

She looked up at his tense jawline with her bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. "Far away from here and long ago, I was kidnapped from my village in a large forest called The Evergreen. I was sold to work in a very old castle tucked away amongst the high trees of the Suur Munamagi . . "