The Kingdom Ch. 14

Rubbing my still aching forehead, I weighed my options. Should I trust my instincts about this whole Katie situation? Just go back to the suite, fetch her for lunch, and pick up happily where we left off? Or should I practice a bit of healthy skepticism and take a beat to consider my next move?

A few minutes later, I exited the woods' edge by the Cedar Square. At this hour, the patio'd platform at the center of the square should have had a band playing or something. During the regular season, Marvin the Marvelous would have been in the middle of his magic show right about now. But today, the rain had obviously altered the planned programming.

As I walked by, I couldn't help but be reminded of the last performance I'd seen here. The black woman named Tasha had been restrained to the widow device while alternating dildos pounded her ass and pussy. The crowd laughed and cheered as her owner, "old man Murphy", antagonized her with racist taunts and invited people onstage to fondle her helpless body.

That was the first moment I'd entered Murphy's radar. My public intervention on Tasha's behalf was what initially put me in Murphy's crosshairs. Not only did I publicly embarrass him, but I'd also managed to get the demonstration shut down, prematurely ending his moment in the spotlight.

While I'm sure Tasha appreciated her torments being cut short, it prompted Murphy to exact his revenge by outbidding me for Katie at the auction. A decision that would ultimately lead to me agreeing to trade away the castle suite in exchange for Katie... Who would turn out to be temporarily untradeable due to the fact that Murphy had poisoned her with peach jam... My, what tangled webs we weaved.

Passing in front of the fucking machine shop known as Murphy's Hall, I stopped in my tracks. I turned and peered into the dark window of the closed shop, suddenly feeling inspired... If I were to dig deeper into the Katie situation, then there was really no better person to talk to than Tom Murphy, himself... But almost as instantly as the idea popped into my head, I dismissed the possibility. Seeing as Murphy was currently serving time at the kennel, speaking to him wouldn't be possible. Unless... Were there such things as visiting hours at the kennel?

With a new pep in my step, I picked up the pace toward the kennel. If they allowed me to speak to Murphy, even for just a few minutes, I could clear up this whole allergy discrepancy once and for all! Without having to experiment on Katie with drops of peach juice.

Perhaps it was mind over matter, but by the time I reached the kennel, my headache felt considerably better. Walking up to the front desk, I waited impatiently as a security guard finished a phone call. As soon as the phone's receiver left his ear, I blurted out my request.

"I'd like to speak with a prisoner who checked in yesterday," I said forcefully. "Tom Murphy."

The guard stared at me with his eyebrows raised as he placed the phone down onto the receiver. "I'm... afraid that's not possible," he said. "Visitation is only permissible between masters and slaves."

"I understand," I replied, quickly scrambling together my best cover story. "Normally, I wouldn't ask, but... it's actually kind of an emergency," I lied.

"Emergency?" The guard asked, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding my head. "I've been watching his slave while he's in here and I'm concerned about her."

The guard's eyes narrowed. "How so?" he asked.

I took a deep breath as I quickly got into my "sorority girl" character. Sorority girl was the technique I sometimes used in order to annoy someone into submission. Imagine a ditzy blonde cheerleader who rambles on and on about every topic under the sun until the other person just folds and gives in to what she wants. That's sorority girl.

"So, like- she's been acting really strange ever since she left the emergency clinic," I lied. "I guess Murphy gave her a peach or something, but she's like really allergic to peaches and had a major reaction. Like, full on white version of Lil' Kim. Eventually, the swelling went down and she seemed back to normal and the doctor was like, yeah, you're free to go. But now, she's acting totally batshit, like, dingo ate my baby crazy."

The guard awkwardly stared back, clearly unsure of how to respond. "Um... you may want to think about taking her back to the clinic," he suggested.

"That's just it- I did! Twice!" I lied. "But each time, they were like, oh, she's fine, don't worry. Yada yada. But she is not fine. Trust me- I know fine. She's not fine."

"Uh," the guard replied, trying to formulate a response. Sensing his increasing discomfort, I cut him off and continued.

"Like, sometimes, she'll completely forget where she's at or what she's talking about and just start blinking like really fast, like-" I began demonstrating by blinking and bobbing my head. "And this morning," I continued, "she literally called me mom."

Looking completely bewildered, the guard opened his mouth to say something but couldn't seem to find words.

"Right?!" I replied loudly. "And just before I came here, we were standing in line at the hot cider stand, just like, talking about what the next Star Wars trilogy or whatever and the girl straight-up pissed herself. Like- right there on the sidewalk in front of everyone, just... splat. I mean, luckily, it was raining, so the ground was already wet, but still! You could totally smell it!"

Seemingly, unnerved by my performance, the guard glanced around the empty room, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Look," I replied, leaning my weight on the counter, exposing my cleavage. "I know rules are rules. But I'm really really really worried about Katie and I would feel a lot better if I could just talk to Murphy for a few minutes. Maybe he knows how to deal with these sorts of things. Maybe she's allergic to something else as well! Like, I don't know- a nut allergy or something. I had Reese's pieces on my sunday. Who knows? Maybe she got too close and it triggered another reaction!"

Shaking his head objectionably, the guard opened his mouth to say something. Sensing he was about to deny my request, I interrupted him again. "Pleeease. I won't be long, I swear!" I pleaded, making my voice extra whiny and shrill. "Five minutes, tops! That's all I need. And you'll never ever see me again! Believe me- I don't wanna be here any longer than I have to be. Smells like a... nursing home slash ferret sanctuary in here. Am I alone on that? Tell me honestly that you don't smell a distinct ferret smell."

The guard stared at me, saying nothing for a moment. Finally, he exhaled a long sigh and stood to his feet.

"I'll give you five minutes," he said, shaking his head in obvious irritation. He reached inside the desk an pulled out a small black sign that said, WILL RETURN SHORTLY.

"Oh my god, you're amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I replied dramatically.

The guard placed the sign on front of the desk in front of me and abruptly held his hand up, signaling me to stop talking. "Five minutes," he reiterated definitively.

"Five minutes, got it," I repeated quickly.

"Follow me," the guard said, walking toward the double doors at the back of the lobby. Following closely on his heels, I watched him unlock the door with his keycard and hold it open for me.

My heart pounded as I stepped into the hallway. Damn, I was good! I thought. Maybe I ought to have tried out sorority girl on Roger at the market...

As I followed the guard down the long hallway, I heard the occasional scream from prisoners through the glass doors on my right and left. To my surprise, they sounded to be both male and female. I shuddered to imagine what types of "corrections" they were enduring. But I quickly chased those distractions from my mind as I focused on what I was going to say to Murphy. I had five minutes to find out what I needed to know. Depending on how cooperative Murphy decided to be, all of my fears and reservations about Katie could potentially be put to rest.

We were nearly at the end of the hall when the guard turned and pressed his key card against a box on the wall, causing the glass door to slide open.

"Five minutes," he said, "No physical contact."

"Understood, thank you," I replied, prompting him turn and walk back to where we came. Taking a deep breath, I entered the well-lit room. What I saw inside took me completely by surprise.

Securely strapped to a black throne-like chair in the center of the room was a stark naked Tom Murphy. Kneeling between his spread legs was a naked Tasha Porter, ring-gagged, head-harnessed, and restrained to the floor in a kneeling frogtie with her arms box-tied behind her.

My jaw dropped as I wrapped my head around Tasha's situation. Behind her was a wide steel pipe sticking out of the floor that supported a fucking machine. But instead the horizontal arm sporting a dildo at the end, it connected directly to Tasha's head harness. The result was Tasha's head being made to gliding forward and backward over Murphy's erect cock.

Seeing as Tasha was black, the whiteness of her knuckles as she clenched her fists gave me the impression that she was not enjoying her predicament...

Tasha wasn't the only one who appeared to be experiencing unpleasantness, though. Beneath the seat of Murphy's throne was a vertical mechanical arm that pistoned a rubber dildo up and down into his ass. In addition, I could also see that he wore a sort of mechanical cock ring at the base of his shaft with LED lights that alternated rhythmically from red to green.

Unlike Tasha, Murphy was not gagged, but rather sported dozens of electrodes across his bald head as well as an elaborate metal helmet tangled in variously colored electrical wires. It almost reminded me of the crazy invention that Doc wore on his head in Back to the Future when he was trying to read Marty's mind.

"Miss O'Connell, welcome to my cell" Murphy said casually. "I was wondering if you'd stop by.

"Whoa," I replied, still taking in the visual as I would a car-wreck. "Um, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Oh, not at all. Come on in," Murphy said smiling. His demeanor was unsettling. Almost as if he was genuinely pleased to have company... "Sanura, say hi to our guest." I recalled that Sanura was the traditional African name that Murphy had given her during her his Cedar Square presentation. According to him, it meant kitten.

As expected, Tasha remained silent, keeping her fists clenched as her head continued to glide back and forth over Murphy's cock.

Just then, I saw Murphy's foot press down on a black peddle beneath his foot. I jumped back in surprise as Tasha let out a blood-curdling cock-muffled shriek. My eyes narrowed as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Upon closer inspection, I was able to make out black cord protruding from Tasha's ass, telling me that she was obviously butt-plugged. And as to be expected at a perverted sex prison operated by sadistic bastards, the wire was undoubtedly connected to the peddle beneath Murphy's restrained foot. A tap of the peddle clearly sent an electric shock or something to the plug.

"I said, say hi to our guest, Sanura," Murphy repeated almost pleasantly.

With her ring-gagged mouth around his cock, Tasha grunted, "Hhgh."

Murphy pressed down again on the peddle, causing Tasha to shriek even louder. "I believe you meant to say, hello, Miss O'Connell," Murphy corrected her.

Tasha groaned loudly and obeyed his directive, "Hhgulg hff ulgogglf!"

"Much better," Murphy complimented her. "I'm sorry," he said, glancing back up at me. "We're still working on our manners."

I wanted so badly to break the no physical contact rule and punch him right in the nose. "How long has she been like that?" I asked.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," he replied. "We're coming up on the end of our hour-long session, wouldn't you say, Sanura?"

Tasha responded with a muffled, "Ulph ell."

Despite my complicated history with Tasha, I felt outraged for her. No woman deserved this kind of sadistic fuckery. And on top of all the sex deeds she was forced to endure, she had to put up with the race shit... Just imagining being in her position was enough to make me want to commit cold-blooded murder.

Hopefully, worshipping old cock wasn't something she had to endure very often, though. I vaguely recalled Tasha telling me that Murphy was not into having sex with her personally. In fact, by her account, he hadn't so much as laid a finger on her other than to rig her up to his machines.

"So, what brings you here to the kennel?" Murphy asked. "If you've come to gloat, I'd understand. But just know- I'm having quite a relaxing time so far."

"Um, no," I replied. "I came to ask some questions. About Katie."

"Ah, yes. Miss Huff," Murphy replied. "Ask away."

"I'd like to know what happened yesterday," I said. "The peach jam. The allergic reaction. The emergency response time."

Murphy nodded slowly, seemingly considering my words. "Are you familiar with the story of the last czar of Russia?" he asked.

"What?" I replied, perplexed by the randomness of his deflection.

"The last czar of Russia," he repeated. "The demise of the Romanov family."

"Sure," I replied dryly. "I saw the movie Anastasia when I was 9."

"The true story of the Romanov's," Murphy clarified crossly. "I figured it went without saying that I wasn't referring to a cartoon musical with talking animals."

"Can't say I'm familiar," I replied impatiently, causing Murphy to sigh in annoyance.

"Nikolai Romanov II ruled Russia at the turn of the 20^th century," Murphy explained. "He was a soft-spoken and decent man who cared deeply for his family. When his son became ill, he commissioned the aid of Russia's most renowned doctors. But despite their expertise, the child's condition only worsened. With the boy clinging to life by a thread, the czar's wife called upon a witch doctor with a hypnotic eye by the name of Grigori Rasputin. Where modern medicine failed, Rasputin was able to save the child. Having gained the czar's loyalty and trust, Rasputin was appointed as one of his chief advisors."

Just like his Cedar Square presentation earlier in the week, Murphy really did appear to love the sound of his own voice. He took his time with each word, careful to apply dramatic flair. And adding to the spectacle of it all was Tasha's bobbing head, mechanically sliding back and forth over the storyteller's cock.

"Unlike the czar, however, Rasputin was not a decent man," Murphy continued. "Through calculated manipulation, Rasputin managed to isolate the czar from all other advisors and subordinates until he had become his sole informant. As the czar's right hand, Rasputin fed him a steady diet of untruths and misinformation to keep him distrustful of everyone. He did the same for the czar's wife. As their paranoia grew, their dependency on the witch doctor only magnified. Mysticism and superstition became hallmarks of the czar's political policy. Rasputin even managed to convince Nikolai that he was God's chosen instrument and that all skeptics were physical embodiments of evil who sought his ruin."

I let out a sigh, glancing down at my phone to see the time. I hesitated to say anything snarky on account that I still needed Murphy to answer my questions. And Murphy seemed to notice the patience I afforded to him. Despite the fact that Murphy was the one wearing restraints, he appeared to be relishing the reality that he had a captive audience.

"In short," Murphy continued, "-the public grew increasingly concerned by the czar's lack of leadership. Recognizing the power behind the throne, they orchestrated Rasputin's assassination. With the snake's head cut off from the body, the czar became a sitting duck. He and his family were overthrown, mercilessly tortured, and executed within the week.

I stared at him silently for a moment. "I get the feeling that all of this is supposed to mean something to me," I said dryly.

"And I get the feeling that you're a foolish, naive little girl who is way in over her head," he replied without missing a beat. I stared at him silently for several seconds until he added, "You've been deceived, mighty champion. The witch doctors have you under their spell and you're too dimwitted to even notice.

Their spell? I thought, ignoring the insult. "And in this metaphor of yours, who are the witch doctors exactly?" I asked, placating him.

Murphy chuckled softly, shaking his head side to side. "Anyone with even an ounce of intuition would know that the answer is Annabelle and her protégé."

"Protégé?" I probed.

"You and I know her as Katie Huff," Murphy replied, prompting me to laugh out loud. Murphy cut me off. "Laugh all you'd like. They are two edges of the same sword."

"That's ridiculous," I replied.

"Is it?" Murphy asked.

"Uh, yeah!" I answered, chuckling to myself.

"Let me guess," Murphy continued. "Annabelle awarded you temporary custody of Miss Huff while I'm in here, didn't she?" I didn't reply. "And meanwhile, the girl's wearing a red listening collar?"

I stared back silently, trying not to give away anything with my reactions.

"If you'd like to impale yourself that sword, then go right ahead and underestimate those two," Murphy replied smugly. "But mark my words, we'll end up neighbors in here."

I forced myself to hold my tongue as comebacks about being "impaled" swirled through my head. "What happened with the peach jam?" I asked, bringing the conversation back to the issue I most needed to discuss.

"Peach jam," Murphy mused quietly, chuckling to himself. "Is that what you were told? That the poor little miss had a bad reaction to my homemade jelly?"

"Stop," I said, shaking my head. "Just cut the shit, okay? She had a severe reaction. I saw her at the clinic. Unconscious, red and puffy, pumped full of fluids from an IV drip. You don't fake that shit."

"Oh, you certainly don't," Murphy laughed. "Not without help, anyway."

"You seriously think it was all some sort of hoax?" I asked, suppressing a smirk.

"I know it was," Murphy replied calmly.

"So, you believe that most logical explanation is that Katie and Annabelle hatched some elaborate scheme to frame you for a fake poisoning and then caused a fake reaction that I might oversee should I decide to go visit her in the health clinic?" I asked incredulously. "And why?! So that Annabelle could give me temporary custody of Katie so that she could listen in on our conversations?"

Murphy chuckled. "Certainly sounds more believable than Miss Huff having an severe reaction to an allergen that wasn't listed on her profile until after she saw what I had stocked in my fridge..."

"Ugh, enough with this conspiracy theory bullshit," I said, shaking my head in irritation. "You gave her peach jam. She had an allergic reaction. Period."

"Sure. And Epstein killed himself," Murphy replied smugly. "Case closed."

"Oh god!" I said in exasperation, turning to face the wall. "This is pointless."

"So, there's really no part of you that questions Miss Huff's veracity?" Murphy probed, squinting at me suspiciously. "Nothing that gives you even the slightest pause about any of this?"