The Commander Ch. 04

This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback.

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The Boeing 777 lifted of runway 25R on Thursday at 10:15 on a moonlit night. Fiona and I held hands as the twin engine wide-body climbed and then turned east toward Paris. Although she loved travelling, it became immediately clear that Fiona was not fond of flying, and I watched her swallow back a lump of apprehension as we left terra firma.

Business class seats made the flight more bearable. Wide seats, nice food, and pleasant flight attendants smoothed the edges of Fiona's uneasiness. The complimentary glass of champagne before takeoff, not to mention the bottle of white wine we shared before we boarded, didn't hurt either. A sudden air pocket jostled the airplane lightly -- nothing to get concerned over -- but Fiona reflexively gripped my hand tightly at the unwelcome turbulence, and then smiled embarrassedly when she realized her overreaction.

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly, relaxing her constrictive grip on my hand. I thought back over the events of the past weeks. So far, Fiona's fear of flying was her worst fault. This drop dead gorgeous, tall, blue eyed, blonde, buxom beauty sitting next to me had done everything I wanted, without using my mind control over her.

"Maybe you'd like to wrap your hand around something else," I teased, trying to modulate my voice so she could hear me over the drone of the engines without alerting our neighboring passengers to my impure thoughts.

"If only I could," she surprised me with her genuine tone. "It would take my mind of this damned plane." Business class passengers receive a travel kit, including a blanket, a tiny toiletries kit, some chocolates, and a blindfold to help you sleep. I took both our blankets out and draped them over us so they overlapped between us. Underneath my blanket I unbuckled by belt and unzipped by pants, and then I guided Fiona's hand beneath the blanket to my awaiting cock.

Just then the fasten seatbelt sign went out. I reclined both our seats to near flat. Fiona and I unbuckled our seatbelts and rolled onto our sides in our seats to face each other, and then fixed our blankets again. With the blankets providing cover, Fiona wrapped her fingers around my cock, and ever so gently and slowly, Fiona slow-motion jerked me up and down. She was very careful not to let any of the motion show through the blankets that might attract unwanted attention among our fellow passengers or the crew. Fiona sighed at the welcome distraction.

There was no chance of reaching climax at this rate -- that wasn't the point. Besides, I had just cum twice in the airport. I wasn't aching for any more action on the plane.

Eventually, Fiona's hand grew tired, and she withdrew and fell asleep under the influence of wine and champagne. I zipped back up, lay on my back, and I pulled out the onboard entertainment system from my seat's armrest and tuned in the real-time GPS map showing our flight's progress. I pulled my MP3 player out of my pocket, attached the ear buds, and listened to music while I replayed the last few weeks in my mind while Fiona unconsciously nuzzled her head into my shoulder.

I thought back to the three-way we had with Nicole. Starting at The Arc, I remembered Fiona's smoking hot lesbian dance with Nicole. And then back at our condo, we fucked and sucked for hours until we all collapsed in our king sized bed. I came five times that night -- a new record.

The next morning I woke up at 7:30 to the sight of two beautiful girls in bed with me. I badly needed to go to the bathroom. I had a girl on either side of me -- there was no way of getting up without waking one of them. Nicole was still under my skip control, so, even though she was sleeping, I ordered her to stay asleep and not wake up. Then I rolled over top of her, and as I hoped, she didn't flinch even as I shifted my entire body weight on top of her. That gave me an idea. Standing up beside Nicole, I played with her tits and her pussy, and she didn't wake up. Next I pinched her left nipple hard enough to make her scream -- no reaction. More possibilities awaited me, but by then I really had to go, so I went to the bathroom and relieved myself.

Fiona was sound asleep, so I left her in peace. I used my skip control to silently wake up Nicole. I let her use the bathroom, and then told her to take a shower with me.

My shower is an oversized stall with two shower heads -- one on either side. It is perfect for two people, because we can both stay under the warmth of our own water streams. I put some soap on my hands, and started lathering up Nicole's body, paying special attention to her C cup breasts. We started kissing, and Nicole slipped her hand down to my growing cock.

"Suck it," I ordered her, and without protest, Nicole squatted down and took me into her mouth. I maneuvered our bodies so that one of the streams of shower water fell on Nicole's face as she sucked my now full sized cock. She didn't complain or slow down. After a minute or so, she brought one hand up to jerk the bottom five inches of my cock while she sucked the top five.

"No," I admonished. "No hands." Nicole obediently put her hand back down to her knee, and continued sucking. Without hands, this was going to take a long time, and Nicole was in a deep crouch position. I was curious how long she could hold out. As if reading my mind, Nicole went down to one knee, but the trooper didn't break her sucking rhythm.

It must have taken twenty minutes before I felt my balls burning. I was guessing Nicole's cheek and jaw muscles were aching badly, but she continued her fellatio duties uninterrupted. Finally, when I knew I was ready to blow, I put my hands behind her head, and pulled Nicole in gently. "Swallow every drop," I ordered just before I exploded into her mouth. True to Jet's form, I came wave after wave after wave, all the time Nicole was gulping my jism down while the shower water splashed on her face. I must have come for over half a minute.

When at least my orgasmic pulsations quelled, I let go of Nicole's head, and told her to stand. She was wobbly, given her leg muscles were exhausted. We each shampooed and rinsed. When we finished the shower, I found fresh towels, and I handed Nicole one of Fiona's bath robes.

I showed Nicole the TV and remote in the living room, and I returned to the bedroom to get dressed. Then I went to the kitchen and made coffee and breakfast for the three of us. The smell of coffee must have woken Fiona around 9:30. She walked into the kitchen buck naked, kissed me, and only then noticed Nicole in a gasp.

"I completely forgot you were here," Fiona exclaimed, recovering from her own surprise.

"You're husband certainly knew I was here," replied Nicole in a flat tone. Fiona and I both ignored her mistake about her calling me being Fiona's husband.

Fiona looked at me quizzically. "You fucked her this morning already?"

"No," I replied nonchalantly. "Blow job."

"Couldn't wait?"

"You looked so peaceful sleeping," I offered. Fiona seemed unperturbed, and dropped it. She went back into the bedroom and dressed into jeans and a T-shirt. When she came back, Fiona brought out a T-shirt and sweat pants for Nicole to wear. Nicole and Fiona were about the same height. Nicole was slimmer, more of a model's build, so Fiona's sweats and a T would definitely fit her. Nicole didn't worry about her modesty -- she stood, stripped Fiona's bathrobe to the floor, and covered her naked model body with Fiona's offered clothing.

We ate breakfast together, Nicole collected her clothing from last night, and then I drove Nicole home while she was still wearing Fiona's sweatpants and T-shirt. She shared a two bedroom townhouse with a roommate. It was 11 in on Monday morning when we arrived at Nicole's house -- her roommate was out, which was a stroke of luck. Still under my skip control, I took Nicole to her bedroom, and told her to get into bed.

"Do you remember what I told you when I first saw you on the dance floor at The Arc?" I asked Nicole.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Tell me," I ordered.

"You told me that I would remember everything we do, and I will remember that I enjoyed all of it, and that I wanted to do everything I did, and when I look back on it, I will think it was a good time, and I would like to do it again." I had no idea if that would work, and I may never find out. But I thought it was worth a try.

In skip mode I ordered Nicole to sleep, and to awake up when she is ready. Once she was asleep, I touched the back of her neck, and removed my skip from her.

I closed the self-locking door behind me as I left Nicole's house. In my BMW, I saved her address to my GPS, thinking a return visit might be in order sometime.

When I returned to the condo, I found Fiona's note -- she had gone to the Spa for the afternoon. Perfect. I searched the condo for the wall safe, and found it in the walk-in closet off the bedroom. It had an electronic keypad for a combination. I stared at it, hoping it would link to one of Jet's memories. No luck there.

I played with the keypad, again trying to link to a memory, but it didn't help. I went to Jet's MacBook and brought up an image of a US passport, and stared at it. I thought of the Eiffel Tower in Paris while I continued staring at the passport. That triggered something. I had a memory of Jet putting two passports into the safe. Okay, start there. I linked to another memory of the front of the safe -- I could see the electronic keypad in Jet's memory. Then when I tried to link to a memory of the combination, I saw a memory of a woman smiling fondly. Wrong turn.

I backed up to the front of the safe. I linked to a memory of Jet's fingers pushing the buttons on the keypad, but I could not see the sequence of keys he pressed. Even so, there had to be a link to his memory of the combination. I tried to concentrate, and arrived at the same memory of the woman smiling fondly at him. Then it hit me. The combination is linked to this woman. But was it her birthday, phone number, measurements?

I concentrated on the woman. She was a very attractive, tall black woman. She had lovely dark eyes, high cheek bones. I followed links of her and realized Jet had a relationship with her -- many of his intense memories were sexual. I tried going backward in time through Jet's memories, and I landed on one at an outdoor café. I was pretty sure this was their first date. And that memory linked to an office desk with a blotter calendar on it, and there on the calendar was one day with a red circle around it: July 26 2013. 07 26 13.

Inside the safe, I found Jet's and Fiona's passports. There was about fifty thousand in cash, some bearer bonds (I know nothing of those), and several documents, including his will and an Advanced Care Health Directive, commonly known as a living will, something I do know about. I also found a notarized relationship agreement between Jet and Fiona. I am not a lawyer, but as far as I can tell, Fiona gets nothing if she leaves Jet. She leaves behind the Mercedes and all the jewelry and clothing Jet bought her. She gets no money, ever. She walks out with the clothes she had on her back the day she met Jet. It was savagely in Jet's favor.

I quickly scanned the will. Fiona was not a beneficiary. Something was missing. Something was going on in this relationship I wasn't getting.

I was just closing the safe when a small, flat box caught my eye. I took it out of the safe and opened it. Inside was a flash memory card with a USB adapter. I thought it might be Jet's message from The Commander, but it seemed unlikely. I took the box to Jet's computer, and connected the memory and adapter to the USB socket.

The card had two video files on it. I watched the first one. It was clearly a dash cam video that looks both forward out the front window with a second camera looking inside to observe the driver. The video shows a picture-in-picture arrangement with the larger frame showing the outside, and a smaller frame in the lower right corner showing the driver. There is an audio track, presumably from the inside camera. The video showed Fiona driving on a two lane highway. There was nothing remarkable about it. About three minutes into the video, I heard a cell phone ring, and Fiona answered the call, holding her cell phone to her ear with her right hand and steering with her left hand. A friend was calling about when they were going to go shopping together.

Out the front window a left curve loomed in the distance. As I watched Fiona navigate the curve, I saw it coming. Fiona took the curve wide, straying onto the paved shoulder, where a lone cyclist was peddling along the road. As I played the video again and again, frame by frame, it became clear that Fiona did not hit the cyclist with the front of the car, but as the cyclist passed out of the frame to the right of the car, a distinctly audible "thump" could be heard on the sound track. Fiona most likely struck the cyclist with her right mirror.

Looking at her eyes and face in the smaller picture, and listening to the tone of her voice, it became clear Fiona never saw the cyclist, never heard the thump, and never suspected anything untoward had just happened. She continued talking to her friend as she brought the car back to the centre of the lane and drove on. I watched the video again, and realized just before she entered the curve, Fiona nearly dropped the phone, and in her recovery, she repositioned the cell phone against her right ear with her right elbow jutted up and forward, blocking her sightline to the cyclist. It was a possible explanation.

I checked the date stamp -- 2:43 PM on 13 November 2012. I Google searched news articles for hit and run against that date, and found nothing. They I checked for a deaths around that date, and sure enough I found a report of a seventeen year old boy was found dead on the side of the road on the Brackmore Highway. The boy was found partially underwater in a deep ditch beside the road on 14 November -- that was the day after the video time stamp. Police suspected foul play, but had no leads. The bicycle was not damaged, and there were no skid marks at the scene, leading police to suspect the boy may have been attacked by assailants unknown. They could not rule out a vehicular collision, but had no evidence either way.

I found an article from a week later that reported an autopsy concluded the boy had drowned in the ditch, and had died at least 12 hours before he was found. The police identified him as Trey Boullion, a student at Fairview High School. There were severe injuries to his head and neck, probably leading to unconsciousness. The police believed the boy fell or was pushed into the ditch after sustaining his injuries, passed out, and then drowned. They explained the ditch was so deep it was impossible to see the boy from the road. The bicycle was found partly down the ditch, and only barely visible. A man walking his dog on the morning of November 14 came across the boy when his dog went down into the ditch to sniff out the body.

There was no evidence in the surrounding tall grass that supported any struggle in the ditch. The fact that the bicycle was found undamaged beside the road suggested the boy had not been hit by a car, or if he was hit, he was struck only by a glancing blow along the side of the car, perhaps by a mirror. The police had no further leads. The trail seemed to go cold there.

I opened the second video file from the memory card. It was Fiona sitting at the dining room table in the condo. She was clearly confused, and not at all comfortable about the camera. I heard Jet's voice off camera saying it would all come clear soon.

Jet played the role of prosecutor, except Fiona didn't know she was on trial. He showed her printed out articles -- perhaps the same ones I found about a dead boy, and told her to read them out loud. She protested and deflected his instructions, until he walked behind her, grabbed her hands, pulled out a pair of real-looking hand cuffs, and secured her hands to a rail of the chair behind her back. She tried to struggle, but Jet had the advantage of his position over top of her, not to mention his strength.

He placed the paper on the table in front of her and told her again to read the article. She refused, and he slapped her hard across the face. She yelled out, and he slapped her again, saying it would get worse if she didn't cooperate. Fiona was sobbing. Her mascara was streaking down her cheeks. He pointed to the article, and told her to read it. When she hesitated he raised his hand to slap her again, and in a panic she started to read the article. It was identical to the first article I found.

Fiona was sobbing with betrayal and confusion when he told her to read the second article. Seeing neither the point nor the harm in reading it, she read the second article between sobs. It was written differently from the second article I found, but covered the same bases.

Finally, Jet set up a laptop for Fiona to see. The angle of this video did not permit the viewer to see what the laptop was displaying. Jet also had set up external speakers to amplify the sound track. He played the video, and I instantly recognized the sound of the road hum from the dash cam. About three minutes into the video, I heard the cell phone ring on the sound track, and then I heard Jet's off-frame voice to pay close attention as I heard Fiona's recorded voice chat on the phone.

Fiona's eyes opened wide when she saw the impending collision. She turned partly away, but couldn't take her eyes off the screen as Fiona could see what was coming. Fiona screamed at the sound of impact. The external speakers seemed to amplify the "thump" especially well. Jet came back into the picture, and rewound the video, and told Fiona to watch it again in slow motion. At the end of the slow motion playback, still with sound on, the thump sound was eerily elongated, at which point Fiona cried out she was going to be sick. Jet moved the laptop out of vomit range and waited. Fiona seemed to throw up into her mouth, but did not actually barf.

Once she settled down, Jet said to her "You have a choice, and you have to make it now." He waited for her to refocus her attention on him. "Either you go to jail for the rest of your life and get ass-raped by three hundred pound butch bitches with plunger handles, or you stay here."

He waited for her to register her options, and then continued. "If you stay here, it's my way all the way. Everything I want. Every time. You don't get a say."

"Isn't that rape anyway?" she asked. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is," he snarked, "you get to live a life with a Mercedes and a condo. You get to go to Paris when I want a fuck toy to go with me. You don't get six lesbos gang banging you until you bleed, and you don't have to put out for some fat, smelly prison guard who won't let you go to the shitter until you do him."

"So what do I have to do?" she asked, with her hands still cuffed behind her back.

"Which part of everything I want do you not understand?" he barked. Then he unzipped his pants and pulled out his already hard member, and put it to her face. "Starting right now."

I'd seen enough. So this is who I took over. No wonder Fiona was deeply suspicious of dancing and Paris, and then ecstatic when it happened.

I decided right there and then what to do. I started by deleting both files from the memory card. Then for good measure, I reformatted the card. When Fiona got home from her spa treatment, I asked her to sit down at the same dining room table. I then put the memory card and her passport on the table in front of her.

"What's that?" she asked apprehensively.

"That," I said neutrally, "is your passport and the memory card from the dash cam. Before you say or do anything, I want to tell you what is going on." Her eyes burst wide open with terror. "First, you can relax -- nothing bad is happening to you. I promise that." I waited for that to sink in.