by C. L. Black
“I want you to move in with me. Papa will just have to get used to it.”
“And where is Papa?” She continued stimulating each nipple between thumb and middle finger.
“After he saw you; they—”
“Saw me? When?” Sharp nails dug into the right nipple.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, sweetie.” The interrogation moved left. “Where?”
“Ah. Ja, that’s better, oui.” KK’s gaze met, Katrina’s. “My love.” She grabbed the big black stallion between her legs and stroked it once. The doll knew the KAT’s weakness.
“The lobby?” Mistress Sterling held course.
“Ah. Ja, ja. Papa saw you, twice, in the lobby this morning.”
“Really? Why did he not approach me?” She reached for, the clit.
“Ah, Papa was surprised, oui, too…oui…see you. Ah, ja. He thought that you wouldn’t make it. Ouch! Stop that! I’m not one of your masochists!” KK grabbed at Jane’s evil hand but missed. Grasping the sheet, KK pulled it up in an effort to save her clit and cried out, “Please don’t hurt me?”
“Sorry, love.” The evil retreated. “He said that?” Recalibrated fingers now offered pleasure, stroking the golden midriff along the sheet’s edge.
“Ja,” answered KK, with some surprise. “Ah, oui…much better, my love. I told him. Oui. That ooh, oui, feels nice. I wasn’t going home. Told them I was staying here, with you. I’m never going home again!” She paused, taking in an extra deep breath before submitting to her lover’s next question. Attempted to quell her nerves, she guided Jane’s right hand down below the sheet. “Oh Miss Jane,” She lifted to meet probing fingers. “We can live on the Knotty Girl year ’round.”
“He left?” Both interrogation techniques were well honed. The GoodKnight pressed on.
“That tickles.” KK squirmed as she tried to fend off the KAT’s attack. Too late!
Mistress Sterling had Papa’s knotty doll by the clit.
“Don’t, Miss Jane! Please.”
“Left where, sweetie?” Neither Jane was in the mood for any more KK games.
“Yes, this morning. Papa rang the pilots. He ordered them to get the Big Blow Job ready. ‘Now!’ he yelled. He wanted to leave immediately, and didn’t even have breakfast with us. I was so mad. Papa never has time for me anymore. Not since—” KK silenced herself.
“Where?” Jane’s fingernails urged compliance.
“London!” offered KK as she grabbed the GoodKnight’s skilled left hand, pleading, “Please. Don’t. I’m telling you—”
“Today?” Jane’s voice ticked up a notch. She paused to right herself. “Who was here, this morning?”
“Yes!” KK released Jane’s hand. “Papa was here, today, with Lady Jack-off and her new friend. Now they’re”—she lifted her head, checking the bedside clock—“in London, probably asleep at his flat by now. Miss Jane, I think he’s fucking her. Ja.” KK gently massaged Katrina’s wetness.
Jane purred, “Sweetie, where is your Gulfstream?”
“Oh, that?” KK sounded disappointed. “Papa made them fly it to Teterboro. Elsa and I had breakfast together with Elaine. She’s also my pilot now, you know. Papa insisted the captain fly back with him. Elsa’s a very capable woman, you know?” KK had plans of her own. “Ja. Why don’t we call her and go out to—”
“Ring her up. We’re leaving for London. Inform Elsa that Miss Jane will fly left seat.” She glanced at the clock, “Wheels up at,” doing a quick mental calculation, “zero-three-hundred this morning.”
“What?” Surprised, KK asked, “Not now?”
“No. Miss Jane needs some rest.”
“We can sleep on the plane. Can’t we stay here? I promised Elaine we’d take Vicky—”
“No, my sweet love. It’s time I met your papa. After all, should I not be facing him?” The rogue took hold of Papa’s German sex doll. “When I ask his permission for—”
KK pounced. “Oh, Miss Jane!” She was on her Jane like a hungry kitten. KK pressed the attack, mauling her prey playfully for several minutes. Releasing, she reached for the bed stand and her iPhone. “I shall text him.”
“KK!” Jane grabbed the evil device, “I think our only way is surprise. We wouldn’t want to scare our Papa away, would we, love?” She returned KK’s iPhone to the bed stand.
“Oh, Miss Jane, you’re so devious.” KK started giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Yes, she is. Now, be a good girl and put on some proper clothes. Would you like some supper?”
“It’s late,” pouted KK. “Let’s stay in tonight. I’m sure I can find something good to eat right here.”
“KK!” Jane got free just as KK pounced. “Don’t make Miss Jane rethink her proposal.”
“Okay!” KK handed over the hotel phone. “You make us a reservation. Ja—a romantic table.” She slid out of bed, casually picking up her iPhone and made for the bath.
After enjoying the view, the tired Cougar waited to hear the faucet run. Voice raised, Jane inquired, “See anymore of Elaine today?” Returning the hotel phone to its cradle, she reached for her bag. Quickly removing, Pete’s iPhone, she held it before her face. New safeguards required her to authenticate each time before it would send the encrypted texts.
Through the doorway came the answer. “Ja, I told you; we all met for breakfast. I visited with Miss Elaine until four. She was most impressed by my new designs. The new hypoallergenic fabrics are fabulous. No telling it from natural latex. Those outfits will make the perfect backdrop for Papa’s stupid party.”
“And, Jack?”
“I told you; breakfast. Then they left for London with Papa. I overheard her say something about Air France. An urgent meeting in London, tomorrow. I didn’t really pay it much attention. All that political stuff never interests me. I really don’t get what Papa sees in her.”
The Cougar thumbed quickly and sent:
Off to London / Air France? / Tomorrow? / Cancel 0900. Sorry mate.
She dropped the US-government-issued iPhone into her bag. Pete’s naughty senator from the great state of Maine could wait one bloody week more. Dame Jane Sterling was back on British time, doing the Queen’s dirty work. The toilet flushed. She reached for the room phone.
KK reappeared, dildo swinging, and holding two cocktail dresses. “Pink or hot pink?”
Jane sat on the bed. Room phone in hand, she glanced at the doll’s vinyl. Short or shorter. She pointed to the shortest one and purred.
Seeing her best opportunity, KK let go. The vinyl dropped, and so did the doll.
“Yes. For two, please.” Catching sight of trouble at her knees and approaching, “In, let’s say ten,” she attempted to hold the oversexed love doll at bay.
Undaunted, the doll went between Jane’s knees and lifted the leather. Red silk? Wet. KK had to act fast. The naughty girl went straight for the rogue’s left boot. In a blink, the stiletto sliced.
Bloody hell… “Best make that twenty, oui, minutes. Oui… Cheers.” Jane didn’t bother to hang the phone. “KK! Ah…oui…oui…Please. Oui…Make it bloody quick, sweetie. Miss Jane is bloody starving.” Oui… So this is love?
KK popped up. “Me too!” Her words rang true. She was starving. All day, she’d hungered for another piece of her mistress, the KAT Katrina.
Dame Jane Sterling? She wanted that KAT to rest in peace.
KK’s your bloody problem. Nein. Oui…oui …
Settling In
Blachmann Castle
The baby kitten’s first few days at Blachmann passed in the darkened nursery, mostly in the crib, always with Miss Christi asking the same questions. “Who gave you the boots, my dear? Who gave you the perfume? What do you wish to tell me, my dear?” The kid wouldn’t spill, except to say FU when Mommy Whoever told her to do something.
She caught on quickly to what happened every time she hurled an F bomb. Giselle would take one whack for every fuck. Catherine thought it strange that Mommy G did so without complaint. S
he found it amusing, and secretly, more than a little arousing. She fretted away her alone time that first weekend twisting her pigtails and plotting her escape. That was, when she wasn’t fantasizing about her attractive bipolar jail keeper, Mommy G. Or was her name really Danielle?
First thing Friday, during exercise, with the cute bitch, she tried to run. She made it only three feet before Danielle yanked her to a sudden stop by her right pigtail.
“Ouch! Fuck you, bitch!”
Danielle’s handiwork had turned one of her best assets into a liability. After a brief review of the rules with Miss Christi, Catherine was returned to the crib for some additional reflection time. She spent the balance of Friday and the next two days locked in the darkened nursery.
Giselle, or was it Danielle?
They checked her every so often. The time between wakeup checks was varied, keeping the kitten disoriented. Sometimes one hour, sometimes three, but never more than six hours. Catherine never felt so alone. Her only comfort was the baby bottle full of warm creamy sweet milk they kept shoving in her hand. By the time of her fourth changing, she was nearing the breaking point.
Resigned to the one fact, Escape was hopeless, at least for now. She had no money, no way to contact BP. And, there was the insurmountable issue of attire. She didn’t want anyone outside the estate to see her that way. Not in the silly baby dress. No fucking way! She wasn’t even allowed a bra for morning exercise. Her boobs were aching something awful. My boots… Maybe, if I had my boots, I wouldn’t look so gay. She soon had a more pressing issue.
I’m wet.
There was that other small problem. Those strange feelings for, Mommy G, or, was she really Miss Danielle? Either way, Catherine didn’t understand the mind games they were playing.
Giselle, always so happy, so childish, so psycho… Danielle, always so serious, so matter of fact, so hot… First, she’s mommy-fucking-dearest-G, the lipstick lesbo. Next, she’s Danielle the tight-assed drill instructor bitch from hell. How could one person be so different? Mommy G couldn’t keep her hands off me and Dani… She plays hard to get. What gives? They’re one wacko chick. Two, for the price of one? What the fuck! What does it matter? I got my own problems. Fuck; now I’m really wet.
Each time either one entered, the routine was the same. Drop the side rail, a quick wet check, and then an escort to the toilet in the master bath. “Pee in the cup!” Good thing it was only a few steps. With all that warm sweet creamy milk, she always had to pee in the cup. There was no way in hell she was going again in those vinyl training pants. She didn’t like being watched in the bathroom.
“It’s Miss Jane’s rule.”
“Yeah, well, fuck Miss Jane!” She filled the cup to the brim. “Here!” The anger at her mother helped her let go.
Each sample was immediately sent below for testing. The doctor had requested another poop sample. But so far, Baby wasn’t cooperating. That plan only had one flaw.
“No fucking way!”
“Maybe next time, baby.” Eventually, everyone poops. The mild laxative the doctor ordered added to her milk Saturday would ensure it. Danielle washed Catherine’s face with a cold washcloth. Then it was back to the nursery for a changing and a new dress. The padlock went, click. “Back in. Let’s go, baby! I don’t have all night.” Up went the chrome metal sidebar. Slam. “Happy dreams, baby.”
“’Night Mommy Who-ever-the-fuck-you-are.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Miss Danielle. You got that, baby!”
“Okay, Dani… I can’t sleep. Can you rub my back? Pweeezzesss.”
“Well, just a little.” Down went the side bar. “Push over.” Danielle climbed in. “How’s that?”
“Yeah…that’s it… that’s nice…lower…yeah…lower…yeah…between my—”
“Can’t.”
By Sunday morning, the baby in the crib knew not to buck their system. Every few hours, they repeated the process. Bath time included a warm bubble bath with, Mommy G, then on the toilet. Don’t flush, then off the toilet. Still nothing? Afterwards, she was helped into a clean pink satin baby dress and the padlock secured. Ready for story time with Miss Christi?
Danielle would brush all that hair then braid the pigtails while Miss Christi told one of her many fairytales. They were always the same. Who will save the beautiful princess, my dear? Too bad MK wasn’t ready to listen. Speaking of which: if Catherine didn’t go potty before bed she’d have to hold it, or else. Once in that crib for the night, she’d be alone until the next morning. She couldn’t stomach much more. Mommy! I want my— Oh shit!
Papa, We’re Back
Papa’s flat, London, Friday, 29 MAY, 15:42 local
KK parked Jane’s roll-away by the door and called out, “Papa, we’re back.” She ran from room to room, searching the seventh-floor luxury flat only to find it vacant. She returned to the sitting room to find Jane standing by Papa’s favorite chair. “But he promised he’d wait to meet you.”
She removed Jane’s black hijab. It was the same one she had on when they met in Dubai. KK had suggested she keep it. Just in case. The door man never suspected. An Arab woman’s cover proved quite convenient. Papa’s flat was located in the heart of London’s Embassy district. The troublesome security cameras were everywhere.
“KK! Did you play a trick on Miss Jane?” Hands on hips, her left eyebrow rose. “Well, young lady?”
“No!” KK hurriedly opened her purse, producing her mobile. She thumbed in a text as she continued, “Papa said he’d be in London until Monday. A meeting with Jack and—I know he’s fucking her!”
“Yes, sweetie. Air France, you said? What else do you remember?”
“Nothing, really. Maybe they went to her papa’s estate in Oxfordshire.” KK’s green eyes stayed glued to her iPhone’s display. “She saw me come out of the loo and stopped talking. He was still in the bedroom. I never saw him.” She took her eyes away to look to Jane and said, “That’s all I know. Ja. I would tell you if I could. Ja.”
“Right!” Jane was unconvinced. Noticing the monsoon forming in KK’s eyes, she put her hand in KK’s, who was still clutching her mobile. “Where would you like to go to celebrate our engagement?” Feeling the vibration, she let go.
KK consulted her oracle. Had to go to—“Paris! Ja, I want to visit the Eiffel. Take me to the top. We shall proclaim our never-ending love for the entire world to see.”
“KK, I’m very tired; the flight over.” Jane collapsed into the recliner, Papa’s recliner, comfy. “You should have let me sleep.” Truth was no one could sleep. Not on that plane. Every time Elsa went aft to tend to Papa’s little princess, she envisioned them as in the video.
4 hours earlier: The pink jet had just crossed the midpoint over the North Atlantic. Elsa had left the flight deck almost an hour before to attend to their passenger. She radioed their position to “Shanwick Radio” over the HF. Shanwick verified their ACARS (Aircraft Communications Addressing and Reporting System) data link switch over from Gander to Prestwick Oceanic. All was completed glitch-free. The ACARS coupled with the Gulfstream’s highly automated control and navigation systems relegated the flight crew to watchdogs during the cruise phase of an oceanic flight. With that completed, Jane Sterling grew restless.
Miss Jane was bloody tempted to go back and get to the bottom of all this Papa nonsense right then. Always the professional, the Cougar would leave that temptation for another time. Most definitely.
Elsa… Bloody hell… That bloody video… Elsa with KK, Catwoman and… my beautiful white swan, Natasha. Was it a dream? Am I still on the jet? Did I fall asleep? Bloody hell I did. It’s some plan cooked up by Krump and his party boys. Boris? Was it Kat… Can’t be. But who else? Is she really alive? Pete would have—should have told him about Natasha. KK… Can’t be KK’s doing. Clever girl. Did she expect a threesome with Elsa at forty-five-thousand feet over the Atlantic? Threesome… Oui… Natasha… Elsa… Foursome… Oui… Focus, Miss Jane. Right. Pete… Wa
s it a Black Swan, all by some unpredictable chance? Dubai? Why did she call out “Papa?” Who changed the bloody assignment? Maybe it was Kat… Boris… Did she bloody turn on me? She’s bloody dead. Maybe she was the Black Swan? Right; it was just the perfect coming together of unrelated events in space and time? Just like nine-eleven? Those bloody boots—eBay…
“Rubbish!”
Elsa stepped back in the cockpit. “KK asked that I spell you.” She retook the right seat, strapped on the jet, then her headset.
Jane removed the oxygen mask. “Did she? Let her bloody wait.”
They reviewed their position, now just past mid way over the North Atlantic. There was no turning back now.
No there wasn’t. Eying Elsa, asked, “Enjoying your new position, love?”
Elsa took hold of the control yoke and keyed her mike. “Yes, Mistress Sterling. I’ve long wondered if ever I’d have a chance to experience you in action.”
“Right then.” The rogue wondered too. Bloody hell! She released Jane’s belts. Turbulence—Mother Nature overruled. The moderate chop forced her back down. “Elsa, best inform the little princess to strap herself in as well.” Jane pulled Katrina’s restraints tight. That was that. The rough air and Pete dogged their ass all the way until they started the descent into Gatwick. Maybe next time, Miss Jane.
Elsa was surely disappointed.
Kat—Boris… It didn’t fit. Neither Jane had ever accepted Pete’s Black Swan theory. No! Shit happens only because someone intends it to happen. Sir Katherine taught her that truth. Boris, she proved it. So far, she hadn’t seen anything that changed her thinking. In her twenty years as a pro, Jane Sterling had seen plenty. It wasn’t enough. She needed to see her past life, the whole naked and bloody truth. The fog; Dame Jane had to search Katrina’s fog. She tried. Still, she couldn’t find her face in the fog. Disassociation and denial were keeping them apart.
Natasha, Katrina’s little Natasha doll was gone, dead. Boris is dead. “They’re all dead, Jane.” No, wait—maybe it was KK. Was Katrina in love with Papa’s doll?
