by R. P. Wolff
She needed everyone to have the Freedom Chip installed. Not only could the government track where everyone went with the chip, but the government could hear their conversations. This was not public information, but most people suspected it. She could tell because her staff told her. The sound quality was not that great, though, because the government installed the chip in their skin and transmission was difficult. Plus, people could muffle the sound quality by covering their thumb, essentially making it impossible to hear their conversations.
Maters caught some people who cut out the chip. The punishment was fatal: public death by hanging. There were thirty hangings over the past two days. This sent a great message. There were none on the third day so far.
Her groin was wet in anticipation of Bruce’s arrival. This was a risk for her as it would be the first time she ever had sex without a disguise and with someone who knew her. The thought made her even wetter. She panted. She would need to let him know the consequences if he told anyone about what she planned on doing to him.
Her phone beeped. She pressed a button.
“Madam President, Bruce Wade, the Secretary of the Treasury, is here to see you.”
“Very well, send him in. Oh, Linda, please hold all my calls, and I don’t want any disturbances from anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Madam President.”
Zelda needed complete privacy. She exhaled waiting for her prey.
Bruce walked into the office and closed the door behind him. He wore a dark suit. That would have to come off soon. He was tall and muscular with thick, wavy hair. He looked sexy. He did the sign of the “Z.”
“Bruce, thanks for coming.” As if he really had a choice, thought Zelda.
“Sure thing, Madam President. How may I be of service to you?”
Zelda grinned and thought. I know how you can be of service to me. Zelda came out from behind her desk wearing a tight black dress with high heels. Her thick black hair lay over her shoulders down to her chest. The black dress was low cut in front, which reveal her substantial cleavage.
She saw Bruce gulp. He seemed to enjoy her appearance.
“Here, have a seat,” she pointed to the cushioned chair that faced the opposite way from her desk.
“Are you sure,” he said with a quizzical look.
“Yes.” Zelda walked back to her desk. “I have to do something at my desk first, it won’t take long. Don’t look back here.”
He hesitated, but eventually said, “Okay.”
Zelda quickly undid her dress and put it aside. She kept the high heels on along with a black thong and lacy bra. She inspected herself and admired her perfect body. She sighed. There was no turning back on what she was about to do. She would reveal herself for the first time.
She strutted around and faced the bewildered Bruce Wade, sitting in the chair.
She gently touched her breasts, and said, “Do you see anything you like?”
He sat there stunned for a while, and said, “Madam President, what are you doing?”
She liked it when he called her “Madam President.” It made him even sexier. She was going to rape him in a second.
She knelt before him and started to rub his thigh inching closer to his crotch. “I know what I’m doing. I see the way you look at me.”
“Madam President, I’m married and have kids.”
Zelda chuckled. Most of the men she slept with were married men. That was the way she preferred it. They surely didn’t want anyone to know about the encounters. “No one’s going to know,” she reassured him. “I want you.”
She felt his groin, and he was hard, very erect. She hoped that he fantasized about this as she had. She continued, “It will be just you and me. I’ve been wanting you. No one will dare interrupt us. We’re alone.”
He panted but stayed frozen in the chair.
She took off her bra slowly and draped it over his face, and whispered into his ear, “Are you sure you don’t see anything you like?”
He gently cupped one of her breasts. “I can’t; I’m married, Madam President.”
She ignored his objections and kissed him on the lips and stuck her tongue aggressively into his mouth.
He started responding.
She undid his pants and eventually rode him, loving every minute of it.
After about fifteen minutes of intense sex, they stopped and cuddled in the spacious chair.
Zelda exhaled. That was unbelievable sex like she never had. She came twice; he once. Now, she needed to make sure he didn’t tell anyone about their encounter and to have him do her special, secret mission.
“Bruce, you know this is our little secret,” she said as she sat naked on his lap, kissing his cheek and rubbing his six pack. “Don’t say anything to your wife.”
“I know that, Madam President. I’ve always fantasized about having sex with you.”
Zelda smiled. “Is that so?” she said. “Well, same here.”
He nodded and smirked.
“Okay, I have a job for you,” said Zelda.
“What’s that?” he asked while caressing one of her breasts.
“Again, this is another secret.” She paused. She wasn’t sure if he was going to be more shocked on her next question even compared to her seducing him. “I need you to find out who my real parents are?”
He jerked his head, furrowed his brows, and said, “Excuse me?”
Zelda didn’t reply.
“You came from the Gods,” said Bruce.
“Yeah, that’s what my adopted father says and what everyone else believes, but I don’t believe it.”
“Madam President. I am a devoted Mater. This is what I believe in. I can’t believe you, Zelda, the mother of all the Gods, doesn’t believe what so many of your worshipers believe. This is shocking. I can’t search for your parents. The Gods sent you according to the scriptures. You don’t have any parents.”
Zelda had figured that this would be his response. She appreciated his loyalty to her religion and to her, but she desperately wanted to know her true origins. Bruce was the most likely choice to accomplish this mission, but he had to have an incentive.
She slowly got up and stood over him, still naked with her hair partially covering her breasts. She clenched her fists and focused.
“Aaaah,” he shrieked. He pressed his legs together and grabbed his penis. He moaned in pain.
Zelda worried that Linda might hear. “Lower your voice,” Zelda said softly.
“What?” he whimpered.
“Listen here. You’re going to do as I say. If you don’t, I will inflict this pain on you. You understand?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Please stop it. Please stop it. Please. Please.”
Zelda loved the power. While keeping her fists clenched, she played with one of her breasts and with the other fist she gently rubbed her wet groin. She sighed, and said, “Okay, I’ll stop it if you listen to me.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Zelda unclenched her fists. “Good.”
He exhaled and rubbed his hands over his forehead.
“How are you doing, Bruce?” she asked as if nothing was wrong.
He did not respond.
“What I want you to do is find out who my real parents are. I don’t care how you do it. As you know, my adopted parents found me in a basket with a letter, both of which are in the National Archives. Whoever wrote it, is one of my true parents, so you have a handwriting sample.”
“The Gods wrote that.”
“Bruce, do I have to inflict pain on you again?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Good. There’s also pictures of the founders that were there on the Awakening Day. The pictures are readily available.” Zelda smiled. Many artists painted the Awakening Day, and these paintings replaced most of the Christians’ last supper paintings. She continued, “The original photographs are in the Archives as well.”
Bruce gasped but nodded slightly. He looked stunned.
“So you have that to go by. Maybe one of the founders was my parent. Maybe there was a video that hasn’t surfaced yet. Maybe someone is holding the video. I want you to figure this out. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.”
Zelda gritted her teeth. “And you don’t let anyone know you’re doing this. If I find out that someone from the Secretary of the Treasury is snooping around about my biological parents, I will kill you.”
Bruce put his head down, and said, “Okay, Madam President.”
“Good. We’re going to call this little mission of ours: Sleepyhead. It’s perfect. Sleep is the opposite of awakening.” Zelda sat on the adjacent sofa, spread her legs, and said, “Now come over and lick me, sweetheart.”
Chapter 10
“Three hundred thirty-five days left,” Lance said to himself as he raked the leaves of a mansion in a wealthy neighborhood in Dallas. It had been thirty days since the Maters incarcerated him, and he was counting the days until his one-year sentence was up. The guards assured him and other fathers that they would reunite with their children once their sentence was up.
Some fathers couldn’t wait, though, or didn’t trust the guards that they would let them see their children, so they tried to escape, which wasn’t that difficult. That is, it wasn’t difficult to escape but impossible to stay free.
Right now, Lance could easily run. He was raking and bagging leaves from cypress trees. There were other men raking leaves throughout the block, and there was only one guard, Ronnie Osborne, supervising the men. Osborne was about a half a block away inspecting some other prisoner. But if Lance ran, he would have to cut out the Freedom Chip that they injected into him on his second day. Everyone suspected that they could track a person with the chip and probably hear conversations.
The others that tried this, regretted it. The government would take their children and brand them on live television. The kids begged their father or mother to turn themselves in. The guards would say after the branding that if they didn’t turn themselves in, they would do more harm to their kids.
This governmental technique worked because word must have gotten to the parents because they all came back, or that is what the newscaster on the television asserted. This was terrible.
The government added another year to the sentence of the parents who had escaped and returned. After a few of these examples, there were no more escape attempts by parents. The prisoners who weren’t parents were under much tighter security, and the guards didn’t allow them to rake leaves without a guard hovering over them.
This news depressed Lance and the other prisoners. Their only hope was to serve out the sentence and then see their kids. They all counted the days.
There was one glimmer of hope, though. Lance realized that the parents who escaped must have heard or even seen the guards branding their kids. This meant there was an underground of some kind or people were helping them. There was communication at a minimum; otherwise, the parents would have never known about the torture inflicted on their kids and wouldn’t have come forward.
Lance continued to rake and bag the leaves. The guards had him doing mostly landscaping-type work. He hated it. It was degrading for an attorney and a former governor, but on the bright side he was getting in shape.
He looked up and sure enough they were there—bees, hundreds of them. It never failed no matter the weather. Bees normally hibernate in the winter but not for Lance. After a swarm of bees stung him as a child, and he spent days in the hospital recovering, bees always followed him whenever he was outside. At first, the sight of bees after they stung him terrified him, but they never pursued him after the tragedy. They just hung around and kept their distance, about ten to twenty feet away, fading into the landscape.
Lance grew to like them. They were his companions when he was lonely. They were also his protectors. One day when he was in the seventh grade, he got into a fight. The bees attacked the kid he was fighting, and the kid ran inside the nearby building, screaming.
Lance turned and noticed that a school bus was now parking in front of the house that Lance’s was working on. Ronnie Osborne got out and walked towards Lance. He had his usual whip in his right hand, gun in a holster, and a two-way radio attached to his belt. Osborne was one of the meanest guards. He regularly whipped prisoners. He seemed to enjoy it.
Lance kept working hard, pretending not to notice him. He did not want to entice him. No guards had whipped Lance yet, but he had seen plenty of guards whip prisoners. Lance knew Osborne from when he was a governor because Osborne was a loyal Mater and vocal opponent of Lance’s. Osborne led protests against Lance inciting the crowd by yelling that Governor Hampton was a filthy infidel. Now that Osborne was in a position of power, Lance felt it was only a matter of time before he confronted Lance directly.
Osborne approached Lance and let the whip drop to the floor with him still holding the handle.
Oh, no, he’s getting ready to whip me, thought Lance.
“Hey, mister big shot governor,” Osborne barked. “Mister Mater hater. Not so big now, motherfucker.”
Lance cringed. He wasn’t sure how to react. If he challenged him in any way, he was sure Osborne would whip him. If he kept silent, Osborne might still whip him. Lance glanced at him with an attempted neutral look.
“Yeah, give me that dirty look again and see what happens to you.”
Lance kept on raking and didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to tempt him.
“Take off your jacket and shirt, boy,” Osborne demanded.
“It’s cold,” Lance said.
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s cold. Take off your jacket and shirt. I want to see your muscles,” he said mockingly. “Come on, Mr. Governor. I want to see how strong you are.”
Lance hoped that if he did what Osborne asked for, Osborne wouldn’t whip him. He slowly took off the jacket and the shirt. He started shivering in the cold December day.
“Ah, look at the nice clean skin.” Osborne strutted around Lance, jiggling the whip in the leaves. “You better rake a lot quicker. You’re going really slow. Maybe I’ll give you some incentive.”
As quickly as he said that he swung the whip against Lance’s bare back. It tore his skin. Lance screamed and fell to the ground. It hurt more than the branding.
“What the hell, man?” Lance pleaded. Lance could hear the bees swarming close by. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Don’t you snap at me, boy.”
Lance glanced up and could see Osborne winding up, but the bees descended on Osborne. Within seconds, a swarm of bees were on his face, neck, and arms. He shrieked and dropped the whip and tried frantically to swat the bees away. He started running but fell to the ground. He planted his face into the grass and put his hands on the side of his head, trying to protect his face from the bees. The bees were relentless and multiplied. The bees attacked most of his body.
“Get ‘em off me! Help me!”
Lance picked up the whip and was tempted to whip Osborne, but the idea of Maters branding his daughter on live television stopped him. He needed to try to help Osborne or otherwise Lance’s daughter would be in trouble.
Lance dropped the whip and picked up the rake. He gently rubbed the rake on Osborne’s back, trying to get the bees off him. “Come on, bees, that’s enough. Come on, time to let go. I’m all right now.”
The bees did not respond and continued their attack.
Lance clapped his hands and yelled, “Come on … get off of him!”
Still no response from the bees.
Lance slapped his hands against his forehead in frustration. The bees continued their attack.
Then suddenly, without warning, the bees flew away as quickly as they arrived.
Osborne lay still on the ground with his face to the ground.
“Osborne, are you okay?”
Silence.
Lance gently turned Osborne’s body over, and he almost puked. Osborne’s eyes had dead bees in th
em, and his eyes were bleeding profusely. Dead bees filled his mouth. Osborne was unconscious. Lance check for a pulse. There was none.
Should Lance give him CPR? He wasn’t sure. If Osborne died, the Maters would blame Lance. Maybe he should run away, but that was hopeless. They would harm his daughter, and then he would have to turn himself in.
He decided his only solution was to call for help. Deep down, he wanted the asshole, Ronnie Osborne, to die. He grabbed Osborne’s radio, pressed the button, and said, “Hello, this is Ronnie Osborne’s radio. He’s been attacked by bees. He’s unconscious. We need help.”
Lance waited to see if anyone responded.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Gov—” Lance stopped himself from referring to himself as the governor. “This is prisoner 88715. What should I do?”
“Stay there.”
“Should I give him CPR?”
After a long pause, the voice said, “Yes.”
Lance decided to pretend to give Osborne CPR. He quickly put his shirt and jacket back on.
Within minutes a cop car pulled up and two armed guards rushed out and scurried over to Lance. Lance had already started the CPR as the car was pulling up.
One of the guards let his whip hang down as if he were getting ready to use it on Lance. The bees hovered.
“What the fuck happened here?” one of the guards asked, holding the whip back, ready to strike Lance.
“I don’t know.” Lance pointed to the trees where hundreds of bees were lying around. “The bees stung him.”
The other guy shoved Lance aside. “Let me do that,” the other guy said, and he started examining Ronnie. “Holy shit, they went into this mouth.”
“How come they didn’t sting you?” the guard with the whip asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. You know.” The guard winded his arm back, ready to strike.
