by C. L. Black
Danielle followed in hot drippy pursuit. “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing.”
Not five minutes later: a revived Dame Jane arrived dressed only in her robe to find the cauldron’s bubbles boiling, the doll’s vinyl, and—Bloody hell! Foiled again. She disrobed, slipped in, and enjoyed the stars. Jets of bubbling warm water assaulted her with a soothing hand as, Miss Jane, contemplated what might have been. The dolls proved a welcomed, though short-lived distraction. What mess have we gotten ourselves into now? She soon felt that tingle. “Oui…Oui!” KK…
Where’s Agent Daniels?
The Castle, the morning after
At Blachmann, Saturday was student chores day: laundry, cleaning one’s bedchamber, and after lunch, polishing the flatware and tea service with Maria. There was a lot of silver. Catherine’s fingers ached. Maria never offered a word. Danielle said Maria wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone without her Miss Jane’s permission. As always, time was set aside for physical fitness, the promised dance lesson. Today’s lesson: pole dancing 101. Then it was swim time. Possessed with new attitude, Catherine was determined to beat her tormentor’s pace. Regaining her old stride and pushing—harder. She came close. Oh so close.
Sunday, 7 June, 08:30 local
The morning’s urine test verified the kitten was drug-free for a week. Her thoughts and memories were true and her actions were of free will. She spent the morning enjoying a light breakfast of fresh fruit with Danielle and, Doctor Resnik… A name badge was on Samantha’s lab coat. While Catherine enjoyed a drug-free environment, Nurse Giselle stayed busy assisting Mistress Sterling doing God-only-knows with their subject deep within the Castle’s bowels.
Catherine decapitated another strawberry then asked, “Where’s Agent Daniels?”
The good doctor said, “Still tied up in the ‘whine’ cellar.”
Danielle knew Samantha was being funny. Catherine didn’t.
For once, it wasn’t raining. After breakfast, each donned skimpy work-out attire. They jogged down the drive. The gates are open. Catherine was free to run. They crossed Ocean Boulevard to an overlook known to the locals as Little Boar’s Head. Before them was, Plaice Cove—two miles of postcard perfect gently curved sandy beach.
“Tide’s almost out,” said Danielle.
“Race you girls to the rocks,” challenged Samantha, making a dash down the path to the beach.
The two kittens followed. Soon they were running neck and neck. Samantha lit the afterburner and pulled a good lead. The display of athletic prowess was much to the delight of a scruffy beachcomber. As they passed, he dipped his old New England Patriots cap. AFC Champions 2001. The temptress twisted round and smiled. He returned the greeting tipping his cap. The kittens didn’t appear to notice. Samantha’s shrinking backside held their undivided attention.
The beachcomber went on searching the sand with the metal detector. His faded swim trunks appeared a might wee bit tight. Good thing that ratty old Bud T-shirt was oversized. The weapons-of-mass-distraction ran toward the firmer wet sand. He could taste the salt they kicked up in the breeze. It wasn’t long before the three Blachmann beauties were out of range, dodging the gentle waves of a slack tide. Pete dropped his wand, but kept squinting, trying to maintain a visual, until his operative faded from view.
The kittens really weren’t giving it their all. Samantha didn’t care; she just wanted to unwind a little before the meeting. She didn’t slow until reaching the rocks at the far end of the beach.
Hands-on SM dungeon work wasn’t the doctor’s cup of tea. She wasn’t a pro Domme like Jane, and she wasn’t born with a borderline schizoid personality disorder, like Giselle. Nor was she ever possessed by L699-fueled, intensely sadomasochistic erotic urges like the one-time assassin, Katrina GoodKnight. The doctor did however, have a not so secret appreciation for a certain long-lost someone now named Jane Smith who once lived the Domme lifestyle.
No, the good doctor was just your typical closeted PhD and temptress that had the misfortune to come face to face with a psychopathic serial pedophile when he was seven years old, one morning at the summer camp for orphans. They found Samuel only an hour later, holding the bloody pruning shears and in shock. His testicles had been severed—still missing. Sammy wouldn’t—couldn’t remember anything about what happened after waking the next day in a hospital. That was twenty-two years ago. In Samantha’s case, life really began at seven.
They took a short break to down some water and watched a group of kids with buckets. One was struggling to turn over a watermelon-sized stone—searching for crabs. It all seemed a little too déjà vu to MK. Catherine went over and started flipping boulders—for the kids. She acted years younger. It felt great too. She knew it was real—as real as those feelings for, Dani. No shit. “Let’s go.”
On the jog back they came upon some shirtless muscle guy with his daughter—maybe four or five. The little one held up a piece of green sea glass. “Look at my treasure.”
They bent to see. On the ground, before the girl, Danielle spotted a small piece of blue sea glass. She quickly snatched it from the sand and held it out before Catherine. “Look at my treasure.” She handed the rare find to an excited little girl then ran off shouting, “Come on, Kat, race you back to the shower!”
Catherine took off after Danielle, bringing a broad smile to the Bud-man, still combing the beach with his metal wand as they bounced past. Samantha didn’t try to catch up. She had some overdue work waiting. She detoured over to meet the Bud-man.
“Dig up anything interesting?”
Pete removed the hat and bug-eyed sunglasses, wiped his brow in the sweat-stained Bud, and said, “Maybe. You?”
“Haven’t had a chance.”
“Yah, saw what kept ya up all night.”
“I don’t like deceiving her.”
“Relax, Sam. It’s only till the subject proves we can trust her.”
“The subject? She has a name.” Sam was relaxed. The doctor wasn’t.
“Just tell—tell Jane what I said. And give her the stuff.”
“Still don’t trust her?”
“Just do it.”
“You’re the boss, Uncle Pete. What’s in it?”
“Taste it. Don’t worry; it’s just some of Papa’s horse piss.”
“Black stallion?”
“Yah. Gives you stones.” He grinned.
“You better hope she doesn’t try it.”
“What about that drool rag? I need confirmation.”
“Get on it, first thing tomorrow. I’m off duty, remember?” She ran off shaking her red head.
Drink it? Never thought about that. Pete packed up and headed for his car. He had a senator waiting and a plane to catch and he didn’t need Katrina, Jane, or their BFF beating him to either.
I Beat You!
09:42 local
Oozing with new energy, Catherine raced passed the gates and up the drive, outpacing her tormentor into the foyer. Looking back at Danielle, she shouted, “I beat you!” She kicked off her running shoes, flew up the stairs, pushed the door, and burst into Miss Christi’s private salon. “I won!” Forgot to knock.
“Miss Christi! I beat her! I beat Dani!” Nearly spent, adrenaline still squirting, Catherine’s excitement was as genuine as the smile she wore until she spotted her. What the—“Oh! I didn’t know. Sorry. I—” Miss Christi and Superbitch—were doing it? Gag me.
She was reclined in the chaise, still dressed in Mistress Sterling’s rubber dominatrix gear. Miss Christi was hastily refitting her robe, standing behind the chaise. She’d been rubbing those huge—
“Bloody hell!” Mistress Sterling sprang to her feet and into action. “Back so soon?”
Catherine could only stare. MK couldn’t shut up. Fuck me, they’re huge. Granny likes the kinky stuff too—
“Congratulations, my dear! You look positively spent.”
Mistress Sterling looked a little spent too. Understandable, given the circumstances:
After that solo soak in the Cauldron, she’d returned to the erotic interrogation of Agent Daniels. Going at it, nearly nonstop for the last thirty-six hours, Daniels’s masochistic psyche made for a difficult subject. She hadn’t cracked, only loosened. It might take days, maybe weeks, to penetrate Daniels’ inner psyche and get her to flip sides. Unfortunately, Katrina didn’t have the luxury of weeks. She was facing up to a hard deadline. Two weeks left, Jane.
Catherine’s alter couldn’t resist. “Sooo—why you still dressed like that? Hey, aren’t those are my boots?”
Jane remained silent as Friday’s traitor entered, red-faced, hands on hips, chest pumping.
Danielle said, “I’m sorry, Mistress Sterling.”
MK spoke up. “Miss-tress Ster-ling. Um, may I ask, why are you wearing my—”
“Silence!” The roar cut the pretender off at that unnaturally trim waist. Jealous eyes locked on, “Miss Wright! Teach your kitten she’s never to enter a lady’s private chambers unless granted permission. Is that understood, Miss Wright?”
Kitten? Oops. Forgot to knock.
“Yes, Miss Sterling. Won’t happen again, Miss—tress.” Without any protection, Danielle couldn’t hide it. Not it those tight little runners shorts. Their synthetic weave was soon overwhelmed. Warm liquid trickled down her thighs. Her face went ablaze. She fought back tears. “Sorry, Mum.”
Oh, bloody hell. “Well? See to it, Miss Wright! You are dismissed. Well? Leave us!”
“That’s quite enough, Miss Sterling.” Miss Christi came to Danielle’s rescue, a bath towel in hand, she wrapped. “It’s perfectly understandable, dear.” She stepped back and advised, “You two should take some steam with your shower?” She turned to Miss Sterling and added, “I think it would do us all some good. Right, dear?”
Jane snarled, “Right, then.” Then growled, “See to it. Now, please!”
“Come, Miss Black. Let’s get wet.” Danielle took her girl by the hand and made straight for the master bath and the finish line. “Very good, Mum; I’ll see to it at once.”
Without undressing or removing her crop top wig, Danielle stepped in first, quickly turning the valves. Cold poured down and shot from every direction soaking her sweaty yellow tank-top and already wet shorts. Certain she’d covered up nature’s little flaw, she turned back to see Catherine still outside the shower and peeled. “Guess I won. Right, baby?” Her little lips stayed parted.
“Race you to the showers—you so suck!” The kitten stepped in, clothes and all.
“You really need to listen better; don’t you, baby? Now drop those shorts and close the door.” Danielle stood back, hoping MK would pounce. “May I wash your hair? Please, Kat.”
“Whatever.” Kat pressed the steam-on button and waited while Danielle got her all lathered up. “Maybe a little more? I know how much you like it.”
Miss Christi remained still until the steam could be heard escaping then asked, “What did the subject inform you about the senator and that flight from England?”
“Nothing new, Mum.” Mistress Sterling removed the robe and sat. She too was in need of a good shower. A long hot steamy one followed by a—GoodKnight in bed with her doll. A distorted image flashed before her eyes.
She settled in for the well-earned shoulder rub and continued the After-Action debrief. “That’s it, Mum. There. Yeah. Rub ’em harder. Claims she stayed in the crew area the whole flight. Said the senator insisted they weren’t to be disturbed. Other than Elsa, the cabin door was not breached during the flight.”
“Very good, dear. Peter insists the subject be released into his custody at once, with our apologies.”
“Does he now?”
“Yes, dear. He’s had Agent Daniels and the Natasha woman under scrutiny for some time.”
“Why didn’t he inform me?”
“Said he did. You’re so tense. Perhaps a little lower? Shall I, dear?”
“Please. Oui. When?”
“On the plane dear. Back from England?”
“Rubbish!” Oui—“England?”
“Yes, dear, Peter thinks you two have been somewhat distracted and detached since your return.” The nipple massage wasn’t helping. “Please try to relax. Just let the past go, dear.”
I did let her go. Why can’t she let me go? This is bloody ridiculous. I’m being stocked by a dead assassin. “They’re all bloody dead.” More of Krump’s doing. Natasha… Oui…
It took a while but Jane finally let go. “See you haven’t lost your touch, Mum.” Tilting her head, Katrina raised her gaze to meet Miss Christi’s. “He’s bloody playing me too isn’t—” Katrina allowed Janie to be swallowed up in long-ago familiar eyes and arms. “Mamma?”
“Yes, my dear.” Miss Christi held the child in Jane bound tight and said, “I fear our elusive Herr Krump is playing us all.” She massaged away at Jane’s aching nipples. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still enjoy the game. Come now, dear; up you go.” She lightly secured each heavy breast back into the rubbery armor, sealing each buckle with a kiss. “Now does it, my brave GoodKnight?”
Dame Jane regained her presence and cinched her robe. “Me Lady.” She bowed.
“Remember dear, Peter is expecting you both at the hangar, promptly.”
“He was bloody here!”
Miss Christi remained cool. “Yes, dear. He arrived with his guest, just after dinner. Wanted to observe the subject. And, I think our new student.”
Bloody fuck. “Didn’t know we had a paying audience. What? Didn’t think I could keep away from the kittens? He does bloody well know I’m only here because you summoned me?”
“I don’t think it’s that at all, dear. He cares for you too, dear.”
Someone was on the move.
“Miss Sterling! Where are you going, dear?”
“Going? To make my sincerest apologies to Carol darling. I’ll explain it was all, just good fun. After all, I did promise her an unforgettable weekend. Once, I think.”
“Very good, dear. I’ll be along with her gift bag. I want to check in on Miss Danielle first. You gave her such a fright just now.”
“Right. Why do you coddle her so! Sorry, Mum. Please inform your drippy submissive to be ready to depart at the top of the hour.” It’s no wonder she’s still intact. “Good-day, Mum.”
Katrina grumbled something indiscernible as Jane closed the door and headed directly to the secret elevator. Dame Jane’s thoughts were in that steamy shower all the way down to the Dungeon level. She knew the cure those unsexed kittens really needed. It didn’t help. Katrina was still pretty steamed when they rounded the corner to see “Giselle” dressed in glistening—black rubber! “Bloody hell!”
“Like it?” Giselle held the massive tool up with two hands. “It’s my new Big Boy.” She pulled the trigger. Whirrr…Whirrr… “Dani made it for me.”
“Did she now?”
The power tool was still throbbing. In Giselle’s skilled hands was a Bosch model number 1651K 36-volt variable speed reciprocating saw. Modified, it held an assortment of dildos instead of saw blades. The custom-engineered adapter increased the length of each powerful stroke by a factor of four while slowing each to a more pleasing though pounding pace.
Perhaps I underestimated Dani’s true potential. “And how is our special guest?”
“Still stretched out on the rack; sleeping. I needed a fresh battery for my Big-Boy.” Giselle pulled off her hood. She looked thwarted. “Already drained two. Thank god for these new fast charging lithium cells. Each is good for about two hours.” She held the delightfully sinister device up and pulled its trigger.
Whirrr…Whirrr…
Right… That is bloody impressive. “Is that so?” Pete’s not going to like this. Ja.
“Yes, Miss Jane, she did! Can we keep her? She’s a fun one. Please Miss Jane? Please?” begged Giselle.
“Not just yet, sweetie. But I think perhaps she’ll be returning very soon.”
“Goody! I like playing with her. She’s way mo
re fun than the last one you brought me.”
“I can see that. However, play time is over for today. Sorry, sweetie. Uncle Pete’s orders. Agent Daniels and Miss Jane must leave soon.”
“Rats. I’ll go unchain her and get her cleaned up and dressed.”
“Very good. You didn’t hurt her, did you?”
“Yes, Miss Jane.”
Knock It Off, Tiger
Blachmann Hangar at Pease International Tradeport, 11:36 local
Unshaved and in desperate need of a barber, Uncle Pete waited onboard the Citation X with the guest. Knock it off, Tiger. Thanks to Maria, he was suited up in a freshly steamed and pressed Brooks Brothers. Cooling his heels—one hour and a pot of black coffee late—his guest was pretty steamed too. Standing outside the jet, Pete observed: the subject kissed Carol-Fucking-Darling good-bye.
He welcomed a well-worn but still smiling “Agent Daniels” aboard with her Hush-Hush gift bag. Daniels seemed none the worst, or wiser—after thirty-six hours of rigorous clandestine interrogation masked in heavy-duty SM sex play. Yah, Katrina GoodKnight was good. Pete shook his head. Christ, she was wicked good. Maybe the best. But he still wasn’t convinced his old KAT was entirely back to her good self or that, Jane Smith could be trusted to complete the assignment. Not yet.
Pete excused himself from the ladies and invited “Miss Smith” back in the Rolls.
Danielle held the door. Pete stepped in behind Katrina and growled, “You’re late!”
“Bloody hell I am!”
“Give us a minute, will ya, Dan?” He yanked the door.
Slam…
His scowl tore at her like a bad waxing.
Each waited for the other to start.
Bloody hell! “So, what brings you here, Uncle Pete? Internet porn not working? Missed seeing me in action? Well!”
“A little.” He shrugged. “Me?” Shaking off the scowl, he told her the truth. “Papa sent me.”
No response.
Still Swiss cheese. “Kidding. Nah, just wanted, you know, to check on my girl.” He squeezed the KAT’s right arm. “Missed you on the beach.” He gave a once-over. “You could do with a run.”
