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The Princesses in the Tower, by Miras

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4-5-2

The card identifying me as a part of the Pirate team was stuck below. I´ll be there with Claudia, Ruby, and Pat. Only Alice was made Bourgeois.

"Gonna be fun, sailors," Ruby said. She is not so merry recently, her soft smile showed an honest preoccupation.

"Don´t cut my throat with your metal hooks, girls," muttered Alice.

"They are not worth the effort," Claudia said. Quarrelsome in the relation to Paladins, disastrous if she spoke about men in general. The way I think when Peter is not simply Peter.

How is Buddhism applicable? Western religions are about decorating the house, eastern ones are about leaving it. I lived not engaged to the man, I should rewind and make the clinging perish... That is dull. Spirituality of the thought, of the consciousness, illuminates the solutions. One can find models previously unforeseen. Like seeing your mind as running water polluted by grains. Our troubles are that grains turning into stones and rocks. Water can dissolve them. I have created my suffering. Who was in wrong? I could be not certain.

I have no reason to suffer. I can ĺet him explain his wrongdoings.

"Claudia, I disagree. I'm going to request my bonus!"

Others likely thought I want to trounce the new element. Claudia granted me my wish without hesitation, putting the browser into the sleeve of the Homemaking outfit. Wardens, accustomed to her authority missed out that I... left out the chastity belt.

Conspirators are lifting the barbell. I couldn´t think up a better metaphor for the soft but unrelenting resistance. I was lifting in the exertion, slowed down in general. I was entering every number in the isolation like a kid reciting the alphabet. It rang and Peter Answered: "How can I be of service?"

An obliging, nimble boy. Man of my past talks to me.

"Peter, I´m happy to hear you.."

"Nicole! They kept their promise, they kept their promise. Why am I not seeing you?"

I want his arms holding me, but even if he came to the gym to take me out of here...

"Peter, this is a secret link. You have expected to hear me?"

"Yes, they told me and guys from the entire country that if they or their women won´t break the law, they might speak to each other. "

I got a whiff of the rotten stuff. "Peter, they said you spoke with them. You spoke highly about my "qualities"."

"Of course, I told them what they wanted to hear, so they would be kind to you and I could apply. We will marry as we wanted!" That was a good excuse for the situation but what was it saying about the character?

"Peter, I´m beaten and sleeping with another here!"

"I-I´m crossing every day in the calendar. The date they will release you, that will be my actual birthday and anniversary."

"I´ll not live as before, you know that, Peter?"

"Most of the reforms... These are just like things always were..."

"They were a source of great satisfaction for your side Peter, that is why you came to terms with them. I've loved you. I was sleeping with you. I brought you Pervertorama Guidebook, all you had to do was to pinpoint the page! And in the day you were bragging about my working skills to the face of your North Korean father."

"You will be the servant wife for the first six months. I will give you ascended status, I promise, you will be allowed to work! The net is now calibrated so that millions of women will combine housework and the paid home office."

"I'll have two jobs then, while you will lay with some white big-breasted second wife!"

"I don't want any woman but you, Nicole! You are the spring for the all year long! If you have no problems with having a boss at the workplace, then why can't you have one at home?"

"You said you wished we would start the company and I'll be the president!"

He wept shortly.

"Nicole, ever since they assured me I might talk to you again, I´m building a house. I told my parents I want to live a new life in a new place but the truth is you might be there alone, you and whoever you will want to spend your time with. Just like you will be working from distance, I´ll be checking on you from distance. I don´t need to touch our children. You will organize most of your life if that is what will remind you of the normality. I-I hope it does not because the absence of you is the absence of my sight, absence of my taste and I want to be close to you. If I won´t be boss in our house, I´ll be the one who comes for you, wherever you will choose to be!"

Peter has some feelings and he has the negotiator in him.

"I know how you feel, Peter because I am in love with you."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I have a personal question for you."

"Yes?"

"I was faithful to you... What are you wearing right now?"

Your dick feels the same. You might have been honest with me.

"I wear those horrid kinds of skirt and blouse American housewives were covered in during the 50´s. And you will love this part, I have no panties underneath but I have retained the black brassiere with silver symbols."

"Great. Hike your skirt up and caress your thighs."

Not a lot of people are doing this working out but there are exceptions to everything. I did as he told me, copying Peter´s moves from our nights, slow and amorous.

"Ow, you are so gentle."

" Not so gentle that I wouldn´t want to see your breasts. Undo your blouse and make the milkers peek from the bra!"

I have given some oxygen to my small tits and I have pulled the bra, so I could imagine he is squeezing them together. The other hand was playing with my wet pussy, no finger clean.

"They are yours, Peter! My heart is burning from my love, my chest is burning from your lust. I will be your servant wife for the rest of my days!"

"Bend in the waist, Nicole!"

Jesus. Ten more seconds in my vag and I will come. So I raised my forefinger and changed his aiming.

"I have you in my ass, Peter, I´m crushing you, I´m making you cream my buttocks!"

"AAAAaaahhh, Nicole, that´s so much juice. You are future servent wife, come here to clean up your mess!"

The masturbator was giggling blithely.
 
4-5-3

Alrighty almighty, my hands were for a serious washing but my emotional part opened its hidden chamber and it was inundated with bile. I have found myself with Carl for another Lovemaking out of billions and as he clutched my wrist, the voice of Peter inside gave a sob, called me a spring that will live as it chooses and I could not malign him. Carl, wary that something is different, overloaded his Māui-shaped dildo and I slide down to B-, anticipating the dreadful freezing punishments.

On the two consecutive days, PE was intensified in the same vein as we tasted in the previous week. On Wednesday, the selected inmates were halved into the teams publicly, three dozen of women in each one. Starting by today, the Bourgeois ladies were cultivating their constitutions in the pink two-piece swimming suits with ruffles. The sexy pirate crew was outfitted in the archetypical attributes - striped panties girded with small golden chains, headscarves, and Jolly Rogers on the brassieres. Ekström in the position of team captain had a right to a triangular hat. Roberta Brunkow in the role of Bourgeois mayor was rising high by the length of a cylinder.

Her wife Sylvia passed to the Pirate team, most of the privileged ones and co-lectors did and they dined in the unified eclectic legion. On average, the sea looters recruited more celebrities, and that included Stacey and her roommate Therese.

"When I finished the mudsters and saw your picture, I told myself we are demoralized sportswomen," Stacey confided to me and cut off the lobster´s tail. "But strangers mustn´t be bored in the carnival. Not by the rogues. "

Can I endure be so coded?

"Will we catch them by surprise, closer to our true purpose?," I said. Ruby bit her spoon by the looks of it.

"We all have a specific destiny," Stacey said. "Therese is aiding me. Zita aids by her intelligence."

Student girls from her room were the members of the Bourgeois. The rest of the Shieldmaidens Raid cast swore on the black flag.

Therese was playing with the onion circle on her fork. "Come to see her, Nicole."

Yeah, Zita´s turn with the browser.

"Anyway, the Paladins will come just in time," she added. "They won´t ignore the act of goodness." Therese crunched on the onion and turned towards the top of the table where Ekström and Lolle Mandervile were kissing for good luck.

On Sunday they have woken us at 5:30. We changed to the masquerade before we could eat. Breakfast was served to us on the dismountable furniture next to the paved road, the long stuck-out tongue rooted in the mouth of the stadium left dormant for weeks. Ekström was the nicest game explainer one could wish for.

"How will you kick enemies asses and how they will, God forbid, kick yours? I won´t be in the field with you but that doesn´t mean I wot be bossing you around, hehe. Each team has a base and the object that the other one has to steal and transport to their base. Ladies, we are victors by default. Pirates are the thieves, Bourgeois just hoard!"

To sum it up, Ekström and her bodyguard Manderville are going to stay on the base, minding its top position. Two other persons will beat the crap out of any invader reaching the shore. The very thing real buccaneer will be striving for on the motorboats.

The captain took a snap of us with the laptop. We were not able to say "cheese" ballgagged but the yellow floating terrace should be used as a template for artistic depiction of an idyllic mousey afterlife.

Although the auditorium was empty, the siren roused us to be on guard. Ekstöm climbed the tall umpire chair, Stacey and someone named Lewandowska have been given staffs and the spots around the styrofoam replica of a treasure chest. The same hustle rallied the team on the far distant brown platform. Docked motorboats got four ladies - one to drive, one to waterski behind, the net thrower in the hand, and two to swim, bound by the long leather girth to the bag with a waterproof paintball gun.

I am an excellent swimmer, so I wasn´t protesting my position. It was just that offensive part brought back the shameful "Day of the living dead" moniker I christened the paintball play, where I shot seven of the nastiest boys in town and the next one drew the attention to the "mortal wound" I received before I kicked off the carnage.

The auditorium had well over the third of the seats occupied. I haven´t discerned the faces, much less the eyes, the laid-out lust was scorching my form. I chilled my temples in the soft waves. The second sirene...

The water surface was reflecting the grey sky, streaked colorfully. Heirs showed up in flamboyant shirts and jackets. However, in the top row above the Burgouise I spotted the coherent line of bright red hooded seats. Nobody sat there and I know who will. People appropriated other empty places and half of the top row stood up, clapping to the four guys for whom the exclusive area was earmarked. Their butts went down and the third sirene was a normal incentive to the action. The minute and half that followed was ingenious as a warning of the punishment, like a rabis-infected flock of wooden birds false singing and creaking.

"The Pirate lampoon started the game!" the mechanical voice announced.

The chair was emitting a faint vibration and jingling. I guessed it right that Ekström is executing a task on her laptop. Loudspeaker said: "Pirate captain to her minions: Boat ridden by Cabrera stays as the primary protection. I order other drivers to engage the enemy base!"

Engines vroomed and the boats set out on a journey. I was swimming forward, my costume and the gear scantily cladding me were the burdens I wanted to throw away. An independent skin diver would use the disarray...

I thought about it in relative peace. Part of the conjectured situation came true when the teams collided and I heard how the boats sounded their hulls.

In a game that no girl wanted to play, I could have opted for an unconcerned assortment of the miscellaneous racket. The nets were swishing, the balls were breaking into blots of gelatine, and some heavy objects - marked gals I presume - fell down with a thud.

My boat roamed on a free area of the surface, foreshadowing an easy debarkation.

The optimistic impression came to the end in an unwelcome twist. The net-thrower, our hindmost member, was enmeshed by the others net. She fell forward and two gals used her as a bridge. Crap, these were Alice with Cindy. They paintballed the driver and on the board pulled our girths. A few paintballs stirred up my position but none hit me and I, the face half-immersed, have unlinked the girth, whisking the hook towards Alice´s hands. I swam to the opposite side to reclaim it, not hurting my friend exclusively and to provide assistance to the second gunner. The combatant defending herself emerged her head sporadically.
 
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4-5-Finale

I didn´t know the girl by name, she had to be freshly legal and the back of her neck was tattooed the image of a chess field, with figures crashed, burning as if they were cars. She was handy with the gun of her own and my distractive adeptness climaxed in Cindy being shot by both. She hunkered and we jumped to the boat, water pouring from us in strings, our feet squelching in a little lake.

I hit Alice in a snappy shot. Then the boat shook. The driver of the attackers was in control of the biggest weapon in the game. At this point, I wouldn´t guess the fourth sirene pop out, not until the match is over. It preceded to the resounding voice of prankish man, commenting on action that he paused.

"Hello. I´m Hubert Graham and this show was crafted for me and my friends. Kudos to the people involved. But we can´t be the only ones to think the fight is slaughtering both sides too fast. The girls are dropping like flies. You would believe these are guys fighting them. So I am introducing the new rule. All shot girls are resurrected as mermaids. They can´t leave the water and they will attack submerged members of the opposite team. Starting now!"

Mechanical voice of the loud-speaker stated: "Rule accepted!"

Paladin´s order gave me time to take over the steering. The vehicle was lightened of three persons as the former driver, Alice and Cindy hopped to water, so they would enact a new spin on the diversification.

Emptier, the boat was leaping as a response to the hostile clashes. Our net-throwing gal had it worse but that was not saying much. The Bourgeois base was within close view and I would swim there easier if the mermaid sharks weren´t set on us. I stepped on the gas and attached the girths back to me and the tattooed girl. The crash put us out of the course and balance. We jumped to the water, running boat all but flipped over. We shielded ourselves behind the top side and pulled it back. We stood upon the prow that didn´t fail us, it bore down the shore of the "hostile" artificial island. I have undone the girths and turned off the engine.

Roberta played her keyboard instruction as we passed by a ladder of her chair, bodyguard silent and ruminative. „All Bourgeois boats not fighting to concentrate on base´s defense."

I had no illusion about the potential returning forces but she could use them. Nearby the second pirate group debarked, consisting of Sylvia, the young Gutiérrez, and one muscle mountain, possibly might have been the scandalmonger from the initial Lovemaking theory. They went, fully armed, to the raised center. Movie stars I never cared about guarded object for catching - imitation of a strongbox.

We castaways quickened our pace. One or the other should have realized earlier our guns went missing but with pursuers not slacking off the chase, we sought some semblance of an advantage. In the fight, one movie star hit Gutiérrez over fingers so fiercely that she threw her gun to her calves in anger. I picked it up and shot downside. That eliminated the guardian and I targeted the relentless one. The ballgag impeded my teamwork and I shot the neglected tattooed girl. I have made an ass of myself, run out of ammo, and created two mermaids as these walking corpses went splashy.

Covering behind the strongbox, I saw that muscle mountain knocked the second guardian unconscious but I couldn´t come out yet as she, Sylvia, and Gutiérrez were avoiding the attacks from pursuers and about three floating Bourgeois boats. The next vehicle kept getting closer. Crap, it had our Pirate treasure on board!

Ignorant goose, my freedom-loving inner voice sneered at me. This isn´t the Olympics and you are not a national hero. I´m not some ne´r-do-well either, I responded to make it less illogical and looked for a Pirate boat. One was winning its battle unharmed in the process. The strongbox was in my hands one second, flying in the air for a few next ones and landing next to the boat in the same minute. I pointed to the enemies who stole our chest.

They left so, so hastily and I charged to flat cake - as Carl would put it amorously - sneaky in the raving crossfire. I squeezed into the tail of Sylvia and the muscle mountain. We took a sail on their boat. Battle of the trophy vessels had no victor yet and could... Oh no, the strongbox was floating on waves we were plowing through.

I jumped without considerations. This time I was swimming voluntarily. An inch from the object I was scratched on the left shoulder by the supposed mermaid. A stronger arm slapped me. I saw the faces are belonging to Stella Varick and... Gash, Zita Woodroof!

The student girl knocked me on my head and held my arms under the surface. She waved her hand without hitting me. She dragged me to the rear of a not distant Bourgeois boat. Someone overzealously shot me to the nose. Zita swam to pester Pirates endengaring her island.

I became a mermaid too, converted by Zita´s merciful tactics. What now? I could say fuck it and do my duty as a catcher of aquabelles. Hmmm... If they ask, I tell them I haven´t seen any. I swam partly back to the central combat zone, displaying my purple spot. The strongbox was thrown over the surface. And so was the treasure chest. The boats were zigzagging nonsensically, I should worry. I dove a couple of times, finding the biggest safety a few inches from the trophies. I did my best seal and balanced the strongbox on my forehead. Stella grabbed the chest, mirroring me. I sent the strongbox to our positions. Cabrera herself fished it out and turned her boat around. She was quick but Bourgeois boats were about to enclose her... She had to put all her agility into that throw.

Strongbox has touched the Pirate base. The boats stayed where they were. Foolishly I doubted if there is something yet to be done but the stadium was sounded out by that grating Pirate lampoon.Real pirates would murd... Yay, we won! Nicole Xiong is triumphant! Not dishonored this time!

My earlier instincts proved correct, however. The sirene acquainted us with a new sleazy Paladin.

"Hello, James White here. I know teams are to go to their bases and can count on the different treatment but losers should never have it any easy. Bourgeois will all wait for their sentence in water and in due time some gadgets can do whirlpools to enliven their loss. As for Pirates, their victory came through the hands of two lasses - Asian and Coffee-like. When the team regroups, I want them to come forward, fully exposed, taken off the ballgags, and wait for the transmission of my wishes."

His desires weren´t unpredictable. But the system included the requests to the program, so I no matter how disappointed, had to conform and comply.

I climbed up on the boat, while Bourgeois wrinkled, splashing. On the base, Ekström patted all her three dozen and she led me with Cabrera to the edge, leaving us to her little celebration when we stripped. Wardens on the arriving vessel took off our ballgags and gave me a simple headgear, streaming my sighs everywhere. I alone heard that insufferable voice.

"Tell them you are.."

I said what he wanted: "I am an obedient horny cunt and I will let myself shagged by the worn-down smelly pussy of the Latina whore. It was my secret wish that our noble guests guessed."

Nobody reacted but Cabrera.

She came forward, her tongue outside promising the French kiss. She stroked my hip and I fell in the panic. My legs spread up, I was forcing them to stay that way.

Cabrera laid on me. Closed eyes didn´t convince me that my shoulders are between Peter´s manly arms. No, these feminine fingers are taking away movement from me, clasping my elbows not to bend, to resist or gather pleasurable touches. It was dirty, her face rubbing against mine, her large breasts shaming my small results of Asian heritage.

She was using her head and most importantly, her waist. Her swollen labia was invading my slit and I could feel the burning from years of professional love rider.

Did she have many girls in the past? Passionate Mexican seňoritas whose lust could not be sustained by seňors? Closeted American dykes from Bible belt, who could not tell daddy? Speaking for myself, I sensed the long muscle memory in that pussy.

"Hey, Slant eyes!" James White told me. "Cry. I want to see you don´t like it one bit!"

I cried from the intense fire Cabrera was kindling in my loins and I cried from the remembered words of Peter, sweet even as a weakling. I cried because I had so few friends with whom I could share this niceness.

Cabrera reacted to the twitching between my legs that came from inside. She turned us on the side and moved like a teenage boy. She took my left hand, opening my most intimate space and she revealed a spurt of water that eclipsed my tears.

"I am satisfied!" James White sounded more ceremonial. "Asian is cool, kicks butt, and will use her whole body to make her way through. That is why I will try to get her hand in marriage!"

It took several minutes but someone in the sound office came up with the acoustic culmination.

Bells.
 
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Chapter 4, Part 6 (1)

Zita

The leather rule: When you are breaking your slave girl in, make a list of her limits.

That is not bloody non-biding counsel. Rather, I would call it one of the differences between noble dominance and common sadism.

I'm talking to you, rowdies in shining armor, who think I am your table soccer figure.

Hubert Graham was devious, bossing us who enjoyed being shot. Although I must admit his mermaid rule should have been part of the fluctuating game from the start.

James White had no imagination. He sent a bunch of people to water again and... He made us feel for every flushed goldfish. The whirlpools one and two were tiny, shoving us aside from the interchangeable cubic meters of fluid. We were sucked to the big one. I was slipping on the wall of the gargantuan eddy, holding the ankle of Mrs. Brunkow and Barbara holding mine.

More than a few of our brethren didn´t withstand the pressure and lost to the epicenter. We were clinging to the higher circles, sadly under the bombardment of garbage from the audience, repeatedly bottles of the suspicious yellow content.

I know, what did I want? They couldn´t establish a safeword because of our ballgags and other signs could be mistakenly misinterpreted but at least Holy Submission lessons taught us humility in intimate spaces. These were the games that stupid sadists played like when you enjoy betting on Pitbulls against wolfhound.

I thought this will be ninety percent of the comeuppance for the losing side. However, when whirlpool leveled itself off to the peaceful surface, about four helicopters brought new black desks hanging upside, which supported hosts of demonic-looking wooden frames. They laid them down on the water and the new boat was sailing in the area, the original ones being cleared away minutes after the match.

"Let the Bourgeois team get on the erected platforms," a mechanical voice said.

Washed out, on the newest shore, I paid no attention to the touch of the cold air. We, the defeated ones, gazed upon thirty-six frames and the shackles attached to each pole. Somebody will heat us.

Six wardens from the boat came to wipe us dry and to take off the ballgags. Revolutionary slogans I could be shouting were all original and upturning. I decided not to use any of them since they deserved to be stated first each. Who spoke her mind was Ekström, the loud-speaker amplified to the max.

"There is no end to our contempt for the losers and this will be the fine for their pathetic limping. Reguler Bourgeois will receive twelve lashes by the cat o' nine tails, divided by three over back, tits, ass, and cunt. For the duration of one month, they will make love with multiple clients. Singles with males, married ones with females. As a reward for their service, they will get one prosperit and the total sum of money will be sent to their close ones, fine explained in the letter. Student girls will receive six cane and six paddle strokes on their asses. For the duration of one month, they will serve as living chairs for their classmates. They will also be held solely responsible for the cleanliness of the classroom."

Out of all fantastic fiction, I skipped the horror books and movies. I tended to think I was a chicken-wuss but in the retrospect, I might have been uninterested in the most realistic field of imagination.

My legal age comrades transformed into marble statues in coloring and movability, the glimmer of their eyes left as a sign of life. I wanted them to say anything in retaliation for their prospects but they won´t. They hope for a nice husband, for having children, for living in civilization, if a compromised one.

Ekström rumbled.

"Mature ones will strip down completely, student girls only the lower piece. Go to frames and stretch your arms."

Pink swimming panties with ruffles slid down and after a few steps, I reached for my just desserts.

Locks were rattling uncompromisingly. Man, these shackles were tight... Barbara was chained on my right side, the other one being taken by Ms. Harris. I glanced to the boat and saw Ekström right there. The Pirate captain was wearing nothing but her black hat and the belt from which the instruments of justice hanged. She bowed to the audience. She also did an utterly obscene opposite of bow. She leaned back from the waist up and spread her legs generously. As far as I could tell, men in the audience were standing up, their applause getting louder by second.

She didn´t dart to execute the punishments on her own. Manderville and Cabrera followed her like bridesmaids before they organized some spacing. I concluded that each one was allocated twelve Bourgeois to whip. For somebody like me, the whizzing sound couldn´t be terrible, it was pumping my blood.

Listening to screams of women, who weren´t allowed to catch a breath was disheartening. And I choked on the idea that these guys like to see us lashed on the distinctively female parts.

Captain herself walked past Ms. Harris and patted me on the shoulder.

"Arch your ass."

It would be inaccurate to say I drew the unlucky thirteen as I didn´t want to wait. I was shy to submit my butt to a bi-sexual or to a genuine whore too. I shoveled that poor behind up and looked back. Ekström took both long, menacingly thin cane and the wide paddle Brotherhood executives might have stolen from some Sorority house. She looked me in the eyes, smiled, and played with that piece of wood, twisting it, demonstrating control her muscles had over the tool.

She put it on my bottom which she rubbed in a circle. I closed my eyes shut when she raised her paddle so high, I bet most people´s arms would ache...

Her body did not feel uncomfortable but mine...

THUD!!

Paddle did in one stroke for what other instruments need a significant buildup. The fullness of my ass was burning so much I felt I have hot tongs glued to it. The pain was in one place, yet I swore I have some small devil there, hell-bent on travel to my legs or small of my back.

I caught a breath, tripped up, and stretched of one shackle. Behind me, Ekström couldn´t throw off the grin.She pushed me forward and paddled me again and this time she also hit my thighs. God, I had to cry and I still shouted only about on half of the level my bottom was aching. I tried to shake down both shackles and my ass was turning to sides and descending.

Ekström pulled my hair, so I fixated the lower half of my body, glancing at her. She was practicing with the cane, I heard maybe three "wooshes" in preparation. Then the blazing rod slashed my skin and I couldn´t hold it anymore.

"Ow! Ow! AAAA!!! Please no, I´m in the Loyaaaaaaa..."

Ekström marked stripe for the future welt. God, God, why isn´t she a guy? This could have been arousing a little!

And that was a mere third of my punishment. Altering between the paddle and the cane didn´t stop until I was sporting six sharp biting lines and the skin welted and not welted was pounded also six times with me writhing in all directions a long time after the act. Fuck, even Barbara with her iron ass was screaming, deranged.

We had it easier. Ms. Harris wouldn´t open her legs for the completion of her whipping. She was bastioned and lost consciousness.

I couldn´t care. I possess one body to feel and to be responsible for.
 
4-6-2

Watercrafts served us stacked litters, broad like bunks. The infirmary was forced to expel all the patients and treat us. Nurses were cracking up jokes about the record number of wounds. They unlatched the pointy tools kit as they tended to them. Fires of inferno, why must I sense you and not them? Perhaps you are them.

I was mad at the world. My inner commotion kept growing. I think it absorbed fats from the muffins Stacey and Therese fed us in the room. They put their earnings - two golden ship models - on the table. I punched my pillow from that sight.

"They should have been generous," Barbara said. "Locking us in kegs up to the neck and give us dunce caps, something on that level."

They have to meet their draconical criteria, I thought.

My life is broken. I am living more productively as Zeena, the aristocrat and wizard in the story I wrote. And I am shitted upon in my fantasy land as well because fucking Montserrat is the official face of the show!

I have overslept and if the brightness of the late morning was any indication, they sanctioned it in relation to the strain of our forces.

Barbara was laying on her side. She put on the wide smile and stroke my cheek. I blinked in displeasure. Mature flatmates moved a dog dish to me and went on playing with a set of cards.

Barbara lined them up on her bed and she was turning each piece to consider strategy.

"Day off?, "I asked Stacey rhetorically.

"Day off for the few of us and days off the chart from Wednesday on. We are going to be interviewed by the Paladins," Stacey said.

"We were connecting them to inmates," Barbara recalled. "I hooked you up with the more melancholic guy, Therese. But I don´t know about Stacey´s partner."

"Stacey will date Hubert Graham," I said. "James White is in love with Nicole and might cancel all the other appointments. She would feast on the soft one. She is too stupid for a systematic analyst. So the man of mermaids it is. Non-vaginal, another breast dude and the pool polluter."

Stacey huffed. While I thought she will flesh out the anecdote or tease me in a similar vein, you would say I have sewn the wasp up in her tampon based on how she reacted. With my blanket suddenly gone, I dreaded Stacey´s palm raised to strike. A strong hand like hers can revive the sting of cane and thrash of the paddle.

Barbara leaped to me and fended off Stacey´s wrist.

"Don´t you know she´s dragged down?"

"Do you also think I´m an idiot?!"

"Apologize, Zita!," Therese shouted.

I shouldn´t but I did. "Stacey, I´m not looking forward to speaking to one of them. Should I mock myself? Here it comes. I should date the analytic. I am one big nonsense. Stupid interests, clever only when there is something for me in it and I want freedom and submission! Sorry!"

Stacey chuckled.

"Eat your gingerbread. Tomorrow evening you´ll be punished by an hour of gym. "

Thank you, Stacey. My real mother is still out there, nice of you for letting me call her.

"II will give you the browser if you promise you will make that Paladin dope search for bride elsewhere," said Nicole under the maple.

"That Claudia of yours demanded something? Stacey didn´t, Barbara certainly..."

"If I am not sure he´ll be out of the game, I need more time with my fianceé. Aren´t you the brainy geek during the day and magical warrior on a lucky morning?"

I said I´ll do my best which is a good example of conversational relativism.

Weatherby´s lecture about WW1 was so taxing I could afford to be less concerned about writing on the floor with a separated pen, shrunken and the Pirate sitting on me. Thankfully, Lydia agreed to choose me and she stayed out of my butt area.

She is my nicest pal. If somebody told her or if she ascertained why we are physically exhausting ourselves, Lydia´s dear ones would hear from her through us. If I divulge it, Therese can tell Larissa and Stacey can tell Cindy. Little bird can tell the blackbird.
 
4-6-3

Before the gym, I moistened a little washcloth I was protecting my behind with on the seat of the exercise bike or the bench under the barbell.

I liked riding on the exercise bike the most so I happened to be there when the browser has been given the link to the Woodroof residence.

It rang for two minutes. Mom, only the sleep excuses you.

There are coincidences in our lives that dreamers are attributing to telepathy. This effect backfire for me because as I thought about mom the other side rejected me. Mom and dad haven't read my mind. In the words of Known Space expert, they are Ptavv fools. And they would make lousy Pak Protectors.

"Redial!" If an unknown number rings multiple times it has a reason.

I went for the full standing position on a treadmill. The browsing device clicked on my three point six meters.

"Quieeeeeeeet!!! Peeeeeeaaaaace!!! You are miniciiiiing me like beeeef picieeeees!"

Mom wasn´t a safe individual to be around when infuriated but I have never experienced her imitating mental asylum occupant before pharmacology. I moved briskly back to the bike next to the barbell.

"Mom, chill out!"

The next time she spoke, she was stammering.

"Zizita, are youssp speaking from beybeyond the ggrave?"

"No, I´m alive and we stole this to get our calls. We plan..."

"ZITA!!! How do I know..."

"Mom, you and dad are just pathetic worms who can´t pay the mortgage. No offense. Don´t tell me any details about your lives, just confirm you are fine... Well, you aren´t. And you hate the Brotherhood like the millions of people. Compromising, isn´t it?"

"ZACK!!! ZACK!!! Where are you, nitwit?"

"Sue, you took it up?"

Dad kept his voice low but the sounds of trampling made it seem he and mom are playing correct words/mostly incorrect words. Target group: all married couples after ten years.

"It is your daughter, imbecile!"

"Zita! I have seen such thrashing only in movies! Does it still hurt? Why did they let you call us?"

What was he asking? What was he asking by those words of fatherly affection?"

"Dad, nobody knows about me talking to you... You have seen it?"

"Yes, Zita", mom said. "We have seen it... Our first piece of news about you since August. These chimpanzee midgets put it online... Is this what they are doing to you often, these male..."

"Sue, I'm unarmed!"

"Mom, they beat us on... The smaller scale."

"I'm a big scale woman. Zack, your paddling is in order."

"Mom, we must ally with nice men!"

" You don't understand the progress, lass. Our readers' club has a secret hierarchy. Husbands know this is fucked up so it is like if they all forget about the anniversary. Try to defend your father or any man and you are no daughter of mine. Now, does your butt hurt?"

"Yes, it is awful."

I told mom about some of the misadventures my classmates underwent before we could pull this stunt, never mentioning the Rear Riders. Mom expressed her admiration for Jenine and ordered me to look for my savior.

"Zita, about that video, there was a small part I couldn´t get."

My mother´s bodiless voice was inherently angry however this ambiguity carried disharmony of reservation.

"When they were beating you, one of your shouts was "I´m in the Loyaaa". Can you explain that?"

I haven´t told her that either.

"Mom, I have joined educative discussion holoshow for breakfast time. It is called "Loyalty will set you free". I´m sorry, they have chosen the title, it is moderated by a good friend of mine. This place should have smart girls talking independently."

The truth is for those who can stand it. I´m protecting my dad too when I don´t let the words "The Loyalist Program" leave my mouth.

"Couldn´t you be moderating their show!?"

Hooray!

"I don´t want to serve them directly."

"And with a girl like you, I won´t be evil on your father! Zita, I´m not sleeping well but your call was a balm for my nerves. Call me tomorrow it would be a sin listening to you with eyelids growing heavy."

"Oh, the country is not in need of girls like me. It should have more..."

I stumbled. Mothers like you? Wives like you?

"Women who do not bow. Like senator Thompson. Goodbye mom, goodbye dad."

"Goodbye, Zita," they said in unison.

Unless she or he turns the confusion to account, people in general have every right to feel disturbed hearing people who raised them arguing. It is perhaps materialistic but you don´t wish to see two halves of your being hate one another, turning off their love or its residual force, their gravity, their magnetism.

The convention of Sue and Zack prevents such breakdown but if it wasn't for me, dad would collapse.
 
4-6-Finale

I had thirty minutes left and I was thirsty for light entertainment on the net. And by light entertainment, I mean temples of imagination, Smaug's mountain of gold. Nerdy communities I hailed from, brought here down to Lydia and Alice.

I instructed the browser to find Sleipnir Neighs, the central hub for the fans of sci-fi, fantasy, and comic books from the entire FPE.

"Log in or join", said improvised horse voice.

OK, so are some of the nicknames PC? Star Trek and Star Wars have been banned for some ideological tendencies, I know that few people were storing illegal virtual reality games based on them. Anyway, I can't call myself Beckett Mariner or Darth Venamis. And it will be safer not to use my most beloved usernames Rianna The Spellbinder and Great Tyrant. I was thinking about "SuperSpankee".

It will be a Wizard of Oz reference. I joined under the nickname "Tip". I would like to talk with my friend Jinjur...

GENERAL ANNOUNCEMENT: Welcome geeky nerds, nerdy geeks, and unrepenting dorks. I´m your host, Horus Orthodoxy, the head moderator, assisted by Halliday Inn and Toserban96. Piss on the real world and don't forget your messages will be subjected to analysis before appearing in the discussion a can be used as evidence on trial. Have patience, new member, we are spawning your avatar and the placement on the map.

That reminds me...

"Speech to text conversion," I commanded to the browsing device. I am not giving them audio of me speaking.

GENERAL ANNOUNCEMENT: New member spawned.

Users had aethereal elf-like voices.

Toserban96: Hello Tip! Where are you from?

Personal questions?

„I´m from the Emerald City, currently studying at Hogwarts. In my spare time, I and my girlfriend are amazed by the people by the people and the nature of Wyoming.“

Anonymous Llort: Show us more of yourself. We are seeing only the ear in the bubble.

„I have broken my VR set and I must watch something else. I am writing my diploma thesis but nerdy things help me not go bonkers. I have a full hand too now. How does the landscape look today?“

Toserban96: As the lake reflecting the night sky and the blue desert around. We, moderators, are sitting on the reflection of the Moon.“

„I want to live in such a picture! What about the nerdy events? I wasn't at those since summer ended.“

Oredaijishin: I will never go to them again. On my last con Power Rangers panel was lit up by the Molotov cocktail.

„Holy macaroni, who threw it? Lord Zedd cosplayer?“ Flamewars in the nerddom weren´t life-threatening, were they?

Oredaijishin: No, it was obviously Super Sentai purist. Everyone is extremist of some kind this year.

Toserban96: Are you a provocater?

Oredaijishin: All things are changing. FPA´s good leadership must find a cure for illnesses if they arise.

Vanyel: True words. I am a Rear Rider. We will reinvent the Conclave and annex all countries to FPA.

Yyrkoon: RR are full of shit!

Wilbur Whateley: I agree.!!!!! Thousand times!!!!

Thomas Senlin: They lost their mind. Towers are important.

Horus Orthodoxy: The Brotherhood would never construct unimportant institutions. I hope you don´t doubt the set-out direction, Oredaijishin. The reserved time and the order of reforms that is welcome stimulus.

Toserban96:?

Oredaijishin: That is what I´m doing.

Toserban96: The nations of FPA confuse structure for duress because they haven´t had a structure. Brotherhood grows upon it. Grand design for the Atlantic, grand design for mankind.

I have heard a sick amount of puffy speeches, ideological hot air, and neologisms in prevaricating since our democracy ended. I have lost count of them but this sounded eerily similar to what was postulated by Cao or possibly Neumann on the school year opening. The old structure is done for because it wasn't structure at all...

Halliday Inn: Which is the other way of saying: Bitches should do what they know best.

Beka Museveni:There is one lady who demands politeness.

Sunstone Witch: Adding my hand and chanting!

Horus Orthodoxy: Formulate your opinions without abusive language in general.

I was asking about nerdy events.

"Tell us, girls, in what are you good at?"

I wanted to show those jerks who they are degrading.

Beka Museveni: My life isn´t special. I am lumberjacks´s wife.

If you stopped at "lumberjack" I wouldn´t look dumb.

Sunstone Witch: I am a doctor, my life is full of excitement. I have lived through drama, monsters dwell in every street and our house is the command centra of the literal heroes in white, educated in the secret arts. You have no idea. If you want to know more about me, don´t be shy and ask.

Toserban96: Madame, I am not your guardian, I have come to this forum to slack off and to ensure pleasantness of the discussion but I would advise against it. You can have personal problems when it comes to who you are outside of your interface. Try to put yourself in the costume of Spider-Man when Green Goblin or Venom discovers that you are Peter Parker if you will.

Sunstone Witch: What? Between geeks?

Toserban96: You want specifics? I know one man. He went to a very large virtual reality assemblage of D&D fans. It was called the Magistrate of the Law. People couldn´t get enough of tales from one player. She was using an avatar of Surreal SaDiablo. You might not know her. The guy was there as Miras-Etrin and you might not have an idea about him either.

Those two liked each other but he came to the conclusion they met before... She shared some private stuff and he surmised these all were identical to the backstory of Texas wench he saw on the physical con in the Starlight costume. He gave her actual name to the group of players and where he checked it out she disappeared. He could never tell her he knew he was a douche and how he thinks that book about giants she recommended him sucks.

And I hold an important position. I will not lie to you, I will simply be a serious nerd, serious in more senses, on this forum and a people person self-made man to those bloody generalists.

Beka Museveni: No way...

Toserban96: You can´t believe I am important?

Beka Museveni: No, just that your story was silly and petty. Internet is making twats out of people.

Oredaijishin: It is about the low social intelligence, sorry folks.

Toserban96: It can be cured by having stable companionship. I am married but no matter how lovely are hours with my wife, as an individual, I am realized in the comprehensible dialogue and the high culture with my male friend. We travel across Europe and as a European I am providing intricate commentaries.

He is a Brave Hunter, well-positioned, and travels. Not so careful as he would like to believe.

Expatiate on yourself...

"One can tell structure means we all are doing what we are designed for by the nature.“

Toserban96: Good one, Tip. One must be aware of his/her station and limits, first by the birth than by the detected utility. The heartbeat of the world´s blood or energy.

That was sealing it. I heard that opinion the day I learned about The Loyalist Program outside of Mayson´s office. Cao mentioned some tidbits of his associate´s reasoning for obedience.

"You can tell me if you are a European then what nationality are you?"

Tosarban96: I´m Swiss.

"And that close pal of yours?"

Toserban96: He is Taiwanese.

I was right.

He was citing himself.

He was citing Richard Neumann.

"Mind you getting a new Yankee stalker?

Toserban96: I know about worse relationships.

Yes, Richard, of course, that company you keep, those terrible friends...

LOTR melody underscored forming of the new pact.

...and you have the nice enemy in me.

Toserban96: And when I told you about my fatherland, I would like to discuss the new comic book series The Impersonator from Reichenbach...

Barbara has Therese to be nursed from in the evening. Stacey will have me and a fairy tale about yel... Golden brick road.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Chapter 5, Part 1 (1)

Dorothy

Gushing the smoke out and calling it quits? That would be an underappreciation of the cigarette.

Bitches are ill at ease in my presence and the dugan spices up the exchanges of opinions by the poisonous reek.

In the interrogation room, people infer the cig can give them owie.

The greyish smolder rises from the level of my lips over the heads of the whiney squealer and an apeshit mad dog.

I regard them. Accuser´s eyes aren´t giving away anger, maybe wariness. Nicotine verses go on. My smokey breath envelops the face of Harris, the co-lector punching bag. As she coughs, her hand grabs the teetering walking stick. Hehe, she smells with half of the nose. Most of her scratches are concealed by the blouse, skirt, and shoes but nothing less than a veil or the hood mask would hide cotton in and out of bloody schnozzle.

I draw the burning end of the cig towards the cheekbone of a well-preserved bumptious cow over forty.

"Saratoga Clarence," I mutter. "Do you confess to this attack on your fellow inmate?"

"I did it and I confess. I feel terrible for being a nuisance but I still don´t like her. Nor the embroidery."
Harris looks at her, expressionless.

"Sounds to me this wasn´t spur of the moment. You´ve stolen knitting-needle, waited over the weekend, and disfigured co-lector´s face. You are following in Pepper´s footsteps."

"I can´t prove it but then I wouldn´t attack co-lector who was seriously punished by others."

Saratoga makes me mad. I should have an immediate reason to burn her.

"Was it really this bitch? " I ask Harris. "We will break her arms without relieving her of Homemaking duties. She will get SHU and kneeling in cold water. If you two have come to the understanding that the true perpetrator needs a fall gal... You will get far worse when Saratoga here poops her guts out and recants her plea."

"Yes-it-was-her!"

Harris keeps her voice low but she spits the four simple words like pits.

Bitches should write their last will if they are lying to me and my piss turns black from one of them being unafraid of the penalties.

There will be pain and that's what matters. I take Saratoga´s confession card, send Harris to rest or to die, and hand the interrogation room over to Chelsea with a hammer.

I wasn´t given a chance to burn off healthy skin, so in the office, I used the cigarettes to make holes in the image of cancer on my package. Microbots will soon be making every tumor go kaboom and the debauchees will be healthy forever. In your face, uncool pieces of shit!

I have eleven emails and eight of them are about one common issue. We haven´t found Thompson yet. Prefect yells at Mayson and yells at Vicky and I haven´t been privy to that channel but he must yell twice as loud at Ranford, commander of male heavy enforces, whose one guy is licking said fugitive. I hate the interrogated bitch but I will dig her face changed by the high-end medication. However, when will I see again Thompson who doesn´t need a torturer to be hideous?

My cell phone rings. "Goldie, your shift´s ending will top all heroics up to now," Vicky says. "I´m on the politician-escapee meeting, while Paladins are in due for one final welcome. By the Tower´s security, of course. They also need the warden to hear them out, how they desire specifically to meet inmates for an interview so we can guard their safety. Michelle is in the Yellowstone and that leaves you..."

Those lads seemed to be hot. Hotter than Cao, stronger than Neumann and younger, younger, younger.

"My uniform slides down for them, Vicky."

I copy their room numbers and go to the free accommodation section. Flirting with four guys! The only thing better would be a showdown with Thompson.
 
5-1-2

The closest was the lair of Jack Johansson. I order two wardens on his floor to frame me in the door to appear mighty.

Johansson´s room is tidy around the shoe cabinet and hanger. Except for that little corner of unspoiled space, this is a man cave under construction with smaller lists of notes on the bedside table, the bigger heaps of papers on the study desk, encircling the holoprojector. The blanket is on the floor, smelling of cheese and meat. A poster was covering the wall above the bed, a comic book-like image of some knight in blue clothes and a red cape on a horse. Paladin institute mascot?

"I didn´t answer your knocking."

Johansson reprimands me from the balcony but carries himself gracefully to our side. His well-built figure is doing a service to the tuxedo, not the other way around. Upon the meeting, he dwarfs me, and a half-smile forms on his face in the dense beard. I notice the unhingement behind the hazel eyes. The emo painting the sunflowers was maybe rubbernecking in such style.

"Fellow representative, I thought you were informed about the ceremonies and you have just been at the dinner..."

"I´m taking down notes. I use the balcony for getting straight the topics of interviews so I can break them into questions I will ask... Woman in the question! Ha, Ha, Ha!"

He´s laughing like a dement. Now I think he has weak shoulders.

"Fellow representative, I´m sorry! You should tell me where you want your interviews to be held."

"In the classroom of the Mainstream education. I have agreed to come here because you have so many student girls."

"You don´t want to sleep with a fully experienced gal? "

"They haven´t got job, career, active political life or unrestricted sexual activity. I have written a questionnaire they will answer. I will assess what I can stand about about protegé."

He shows me the three pages from that bedside table. The recipient is supposed to fill in family history, favorite toys in the earlier age, tit size, how she feels about her pussy, what party she would vote for if we were still a democracy. He is not fucking children but statistics!

"I have spoken with Mrs. Rosenstein. She will see to that answers will be truthful. And... She would like student girls to be clothed in the universal outfits I have envisioned in the last month."

He turns the holoprojector on. I see a woman wearing a business suit... Made out of fake leaves.

"The more submissive they will be, the more leaves they will lose and so that will be their most defining report card. What do you think about it? Would you wear it?"

The nicest thing I could say?

"I was once on LSD. I had good hallucinations and bad ones. This would be one of the good ones."

He pats me on the back.

"You are remarkable. Before my departure, I want you to deliver your short biography, how did you travel a road of life from drug-addict to the lady of the law."

Fucking weirdo.
 
5-1-3

Hubert Graham is lodged on the same floor. He has less to do and the more prominent notion of time. I knock and he says: "I´m waiting for you!" almost melodically. He gazes at me in the entrance, stands straight but relaxed, his face being not noticeable by the narrowing small eyes but by the red mutton chops.

"Howdy!," he exclaims and his gesture prevents me from speaking. "James thinks I am not frisky enough when twats are fussing over us, so I have just one required service. Unzip your jacket and lower your jeans. Then bid me welcome."

I wanted to show my panties to one of them but in my head, they adjured me to share my beauty and it wouldn´t be done by the least attractive one. Oh well, I drive the zip and bare the thighs. He listens to the polite piffle also kneads my tits, showing that he can.

"I am under your wings, watcher of protected sex. I and my pals-adins are treated like gods by the people who tremble at the idea of one or perish the thought more of us getting hurt. I don´t want to make things harder for assisting wenches like you. Not expecting you will let us be slaughtered but don´t tell me you don´t flourish in your routine."

I have a chance to score.

"No, not at all! Where is the fun in serving bosses? We are looking out for other super people who will wear pants!"

I am the only one who doesn´t fully wear them in his room. I like to pretend my entourage doesn´t see me.

Graham lines up two suitcases and one backpack.

"I hope that will always extend to policing your inmates... I want to start my interviews early in the morning in the Holy Submission lounge. They began to industrial production of shrew´s fiddles of all sizes for household application. I have bought some and I want to cuff the unprepared person in it. Do you believe the Conclave wants to make them a mandatory part of the wedding set?"

I stretch my fists in front of my chest as you would have to for that restraint gizmo.

"Wanna try these wrists and neck?"

Graham shakes his head.

"This will be the simulation of the dating life. I am calling the shots."

Small-dicked peacock...
 
5-1-4

Pissed-off, I change back into a decently clothed officer and I´m heading to the upper floor. Michelle told me that Enzo Romano gave spokeswoman Arnolph a bouquet of petunias. He has a gentlemanly flavor unlike Graham and that itself stems from the social graces I wouldn´t find in Johansson.

As I knock he opens the door for me.

The sight freezes my eyelids, it is sealing them in the fucking cement. His face is too round and has about much fur as a sphynx cat but the torso, the chest, a length of the arms... Grab my back, take my breath away, give me mouth-to-mouth.

Romano handshakes with me and jocosely hauls the person whole behind the door.

"Fellow representative. On the behalf of…"

"It is I who should be welcoming you. Consider yourself guests of the embassy."

He kisses my hand.

My lips crack in jealousy. What is this guy made of?

I see a framed photo on the main table, a picture of the men in the kayaks.

He must have one or two girlfriends for fuck´s sake.

But maybe he has one free slot.

"Are you feeling well for tomorrow´s interviews? Where do you want to conduct them?“

"In the dining hall. A social environment, don´t you think? The best place for choosing virtuous lady of the house."

He is single? Hallelujah! I will justify my smile by coming up with pleasantries in return.

"You are a first-grade student of the Paladin institute, patient enough to sift through the curs for naughty wives, learning from you. They aren´t all broken."

Romano´s sexy brown eyes goggle and he entwines his fingers absently.

„All in me longs for a wife who has always thought like me. So we would have "Gemini marriage"."

Such miss Perfect, your dream girl wouldn´t end up in the Princess Tower.“

He nods then his regard hardens.

"The goodness is the beginning and you can´t fast-produce it. You can eradicate it, though. Go, warden. I´ve told you the essentials."

Star-gazing spastic!
 
5-1 - Finale

Paladin pricks are full of themselves. I direct my feet to James White, steeled against the incomprehensibility, conceit, and naiveté.

„Step forward, my sentinels!" A voice brimming over with laxity was suspiciously quiet for someone cheery and who wanted to be heard.

White is getting up from the sofa. On the TV he has a frozen program, I´m not recognizing it. There is an older grey-white-haired dude and girl with black hair divided into pigtails... She has a collar but this doesn´t fit in Art of Holy Submission suppositions. She shows the dude her findings in the lab.

The representative isn´t as Caucasian as one would think based on his surname. Contours of the face point to a Western man but the skin color would blend in China. He should go to Turkmenistan. He is also not taller than me.

He remains close-mouthed until I say my greeting.

"Good old Hubert called me. I want you to enable my interviews to take place in this very room. They won´t be long. I spoke with the principal and he knows I will be not talking with more than five people."

He knows what he wants.

"Roger, fellow representative. My girls will be your guests."

"In different circumstances, I would be talking with you as one of the contenders for my affection."

Ha! There it is!

"Fellow representative, I will realize whateve…"

"Not in the circumstances you placed yourself in. I mean, you are a woman. You being on such active duty is foolhardy. Having children would be safer and in line with your credos of citizenship."

Bloodybastardsonofforeignbitchrudeidiotfuckingshitcocksuckingmongrel!

On the corridor, I punch the entourage wardens to their chins.

Screw you gals, I´m going home!

The lamps and window rows are superfluous. On the courtyard, I orient myself by my outsoles trailing the paver blocks. Blind anger and coldness beyond the walls are good fuel for a stride but I´m adding a sedative cig to them as a booster.

I must make a way for a woman leaving the staff apartments. I see her pale cloak. Yes... Cook. She is carrying a long bone on her breasts...

Why?

"Madam, were you doing soup in your quarters?"

The cook doesn´t respond and doesn´t turn around. She does three steps back. I see these are two long bones wired together. "I rode it, I ate it and I´m bashing with it."

Registering the voice I shout: "Thompson?!"

I spit the cig out and grasp the handle of my gun.

"Bad day, Dorothy," she says and the flying hoove smashes my head in.
 
OK this POV is/will be quite long, but please, bear with me...

Chapter 5, Part 2 (1)

Roberta

"You aren´t getting any wetter. Not good enough for you, baby girl? Neither I nor Kenneth? Well, we brought a bottle of dyke-grease."

I wasn´t looking at the bodybuilder, a piece of a man speaking and it would be testing boundaries if I acknowledged the existence of his beer-bellied buddy.
Below the lamp with the vermilion shade laid two bills, orange in the normal light. Prosperits I was bought with because my team lost.

"Grab her arms. She begs to be nailed, not nuzzled."

The thick beard of Kenneth´s swathed my fingertips, and I would be afraid of lice if the grime wasn´t going to stink out the inner tissue´s recesses. Bernard, the iron pumper, pressed my ankles together. My nude form was manhandled to a wooden cross, lying askew between the bed and the other wall. The clasp of leather drawn tight could be called mild if one was previously lifted by... Them.

"You are a dyke and, what is worse, a teacher," Bernard said. He sucked in my supposed fragrance. „You smell foul, but cunt is a cunt, and I wished for an odd dainty - the milf adroit pussy that is rejecting the dicks. And I must only add the coating."

A shadow of his shoulder reached the cornice area, and the cap of something he held loosened. His forefingers cooperating with thumbs applied a dense cream on my inner thighs, they chilled down the hairy garden of my crotch, and they overstuffed very chambers of the palace.

Please, no.

Short words of zero value. These staff members wouldn´t come if they had mercy, and in a large number of men, it is the denied consent that makes their rods retractable.

I wasn´t speaking. I was making noise still the moment when his pecker invaded my lubricated vagina. The noise of a turkey portioned alive.

Flashes of Bernard and Kenneth ingrained in me as the worst abasement I have ever ridden out, made worse by the outlook of my expanding clientele hanging over me for a month. Impossible but real monsters, thorny worms plugging my skin pores.

I wanted to become Sylvia. I love nothing like my wife and that very night I envied her self. She respected me not being ready to confide and slept, leaning against me. We had our beds slammed together. Lolle with Gina followed our lead latterly.

I wanted to become her because she was always the less tense of us. I blamed her irresponsibility for it. Now though, she can be the better... The levelheaded half.
If we ignore hornier. Pencil-hard nipples tickle my shoulder blade, and often when I am to lay down as a second, I pretend not to see how the cloth over her groin is lifting. I came to recognize it thanks to Basma. We are all teachers, excluding Gina.

"Ouch, Lolle, don´t tease me like that! Turn it back on! I swear I saw angels as it was rotating. Gimme that remote control! Aaaah, that is so magnum opus of fucking!"
"Ask, and you shall receive."

"Were you born with coooock?!"

Gina only learns new things. I was divested of the pleasure part. I don´t want to waggle my waist. To the likely grievance of the lady who has joined my life in the city hall.
Lolle went to the bathroom at one point before sunrise, and she hurried towards the bed with a smug smile, a habit from the courts, recorded for tennis watchers everywhere. Unpredictably, those lips of hers withered the moment she looked at my way.

"Revolted, are you, huh?" she asked.

My mouth exhaled a little of air, and I turned my eyes in the way of quietly snoring Sylvia.

"Robbie, if I could humanize the fines, I would have thought of more sensible shaming. You are a bright bulb, a sharp knife. The worst part was supposed to be the money. The guys... The clients... Those are simply a different set of Heirs for most of us. The scumbags we are encountering and surviving."

Sylvia stirred. Admiring the sleeping innocence, I stroke the crown of her head. Hard times had to befall me that I was inclined to agree with Lolle, but Martin was an unrecognized convenience. How must has he felt about his lesbian show being cut in half?

No, no! Dearest Sylvia, wake up and tell me what he has done to you!

I sat and gasped.

The one who reacted was Gina. She also uncurled her body on the bed, from the knees up, using the blanket as some cloak of the empress, fluttering behind her back. The shaved sex jogged the memory of the second-best intercourse since my coming out.

"Robs, for the initial weeks, they gave me relaxation pills," she said in an assuaging tone. "Lolle has it right. It is no different to me. Sing a song of blue and orange to the breakfast meals and…"

"Gina, this will never be like for you."

I wasn´t going to explain myself to her or little Prefectina.

"She will cure me of every malady." I cupped Sylvia´s cheek. If I were ruthless as Lolle, I would wake her up. I am the most unfortunate person hereabouts.

"Sylvia, you are a healer, get up and thank your wife! Gina stretched on the double bed and pulled Sylvia´s legs.

"Where, where.." The sleeper was fighting the pillow.

"We are here, we are queer, you are used to it," Gina quipped.

"Keep on sleeping, darling," I counteracted.

"No," Lolle said. "Since we are nearly all awake, I can announce the Paladins instructions."

"I do know them too," I snipped.

"Yes, Roberta, you know them. I can announce them." She grimaced. "Basma has the exception. Surprise, surprise. I will not go to be interviewed either, since my Paladin reduced his subjects to five women. However, Sylvia will stay in the dining room, and so will Gina. If anyone will be searching for Roberta, however unlikely that might be, she is to place herself in the habitual classroom."

Uppity schemer. Loathing her company, I stepped in the direction of the shower. Cautiously, for the sake of that one girl who hasn´t opened her eyes yet.

"I will wash myself after you," Sylvia said and scuffled alongside, yawning endlong. I switched on the bathroom lights, and when my wife closed the door, I could ask a long last.: "What did Martin want from you?"

She winked at me.

"Doing things I was picturing you throughout!"

She thrust me into the shower enclosure and joined me, spraying the walls.

"Roberta, I have only one part that should be drier in the dawn of the new day!"

I have some pains in my underbelly, but the tongue hasn´t lost its flexibility. I kissed Sylvia shortly and sat in the tight space. Sylvia made it even tighter when she spread, and her gentle pussy looked around, dripping. The vagina in the depths of external pussy got its name from the sheath, and it is a sheath for the majority of women, but Sylvia drew the cunt - for it is immoral, dirty, shameless cunt when it has a life of its own - Sylvia drew it like some armed boobytrap. I moved closer. Now I saw the fragrant oyster, the nutritious ambrosia. The tip of my tongue crammed itself to the confined area as I was experiencing in the enclosure. However, I and Sylvia were transported to the timeless, spaceless territory, me skimming in the spicy den, Sylvia clenching and stretching the belly and swinging her arms, out of balance from the delight in her center. She turned the shower down, and so the stream of pleasantly warm water sprinkled on my behind. She bent whole and made it flow inside, tickling the butthole. The tongue oscillated, and Sylvia came. She dragged out, and I experienced the power of the mad orgasm through her teeth biting my left nipple.

No, Martin couldn´t have brought her happiness.
 
5-2-2

"Your file contained a sidenote that you are a gay."

In the classroom, they seated me at the turned table. I had to wait for the questions and topics, hands behind the back. At the pedagogue´s place, Jack Johansson was tossing cashews into the air and caught them in his mouth every time.

"I am sorry if you think you will be wasting your time with me."

The Paladin started to choke in good humor.

"You are racier than other options," he said. "Back in the Institute, one of my classmates didn´t think two wives would saturate him. And since in the official lesbian couples one woman doesn´t count, he purchased the double deal."

I intended on dampening him down, inconspicuously.

"Gay men could never have such a big family, could they?"

Johansson glanced knowingly.

"They can! Male homosexuals are allowed to have the legal bindings with as many partners as they wish as long as they are submitting their genetic material for the Gayseeding program."

He petted the dish half-full of cashews.

"LGBT don´t have to fear men of science as they once dread the God-fearing folk."

This I could voice support for.

"What do you want from people living in denial? Even if they are not big on evolution they know what DNA and brain are. Still, they insist there is something mysterious about humans."

Johansson´s bearded chin dangled in the nod.

"Faith is excessive when you do have the intelligence, education, and the inspirative imagination. I consider these qualities central to raising viable man, not The New Androcentrism."

"As an educator I..."

His right hand threatened me.

"You are an educator, Mrs. Brunkow but only of little girls. As I studied your profile, I saw you are an organizer and science inclined. Unfortunately, you do not possess the inspiration that has enabled the human species to survive. Heirs you are sleeping with are, by contrast, said to be very imaginative."
I was thinking about Martin and his dolls, geeks and their... different toys, artful sadists...

Johansson was laughing for about half a minute.

"I think you would make them wear straightjacket. That is because you don´t understand and can´t be in charge. But you have a mind that can be led by the versatile one."

"You seem to be an intelligent man," I evaded. "Maybe, if I would marry you, I and my w... my lover Sylvie could we still be teaching and maybe writing textbooks?"

His eyes widened.

"You can be sure of that! I want my household to be scholarly-minded from me to my bitch! I mean Roxanne, my cocker. You know, I have a cousin in the House of Experts itself!"

"Incredible," I said.

"He told me about the message Jenine Thompson recorded for the assembly. I was looking forward to speaking with her."

Thankfully, I have a „competition“.

"She was isolated, but I think they will let you have some talk."

He picked his nose, dissatisfied.

"I am trying. My pleas are falling on deaf ears. Mrs. Brunkow, your distinctions have my attention so we will see each other tomorrow again."

He released me, and Stacey Hamilton assumed the seat.
 
5-2-3

For hours, my personality was trying to excrete itself, to be anyone but me. Johansson resuscitated the love of the person for herself by the virtue of approving my erudite leanings. Although, that could be just me lowering my standards.

I wasn´t going to meet him the next morning. We had scheduled the long bridging course of Holy Submission, so I and Sylvia slept together in the cage. Well, my eyes were closed. The day after, we came to serve the Heirs in the maid outfits, sometimes moving on our knees. I had a fit when some guys pulled us by the panties and ripped them off on Sylvia. I stood up one leg. Georgianna tripped it up and exhibited us on the crosses. My senses couldn´t quickly compile why I´m breathing so heavily.

Malcolm gave us a reproving look and wrote a long-winded paragraph into the class register. It amused me when I was reading from the register of student girls. Sylvia had unimpaired panties, Lindsey probably left them in Weatherby´s living space, and the presiding man himself was interrupting me every sentence of the evaluation.

Young girls had issues and nobody could tell what will happen to those afflicted with the arguable learning difficulties. Take, for example, Louisa Polivka. She is excellent in Holy Submission, and Malcolm speaks highly of her acting skills, which is often related to neurosis, but she is wrecking any recipe they give her, she is playing with buttons on appliances, unaware of the mayhem, or classmates along with lectors watching her, and once she kicked Gutiérrez to the shin over something that happened in Shieldmaidens Raid two weeks before the act. Rosenstein said her mother knew about the earlier mental issues, but she thought they have been resolved.

"They are disciplined regularly under us, Brunkow," Weatherby said. "Some of the mouses are just biding their time when the wariest cats are scratching in the opposite corner. Did you learn some scientific method that would make her normal and not that veiled untouchable of yours whom I can´t teach?"

Lindsey answered instead of me. "The diet is the most feasible course of calming her down. And let Clara go to the virtual reality with her and play in the super-duper survival drama. I don´t think anyone wondered if the situation of that aunt..."

In seconds, I hatched small revenge.

"Dysfunctional children need an extra amount of things all kids should get used to in the medium doses and in that I include physical activity that also stimulates them to think. For today's PE, grown-ups have swimming and student girls are climbing, is that so?"

"Not hard on the cerebral part, I´ll give you that," Weatherby said.

"Ms. Manderville is a tennis player. She can toss a few yellow balls," I suggested. They will play, I will supervise. Louisa the most."

Sylvia looked me up and down but with the humbleness, I expected from her.

"Lolle insinuated into your party too late. She must step up a gear to compensate," Weatherby said, an arrogant smile uglifying his face.

If the full-fledged lectors told Lolle I had come up with her reassignment, she couldn´t possibly be crankier this afternoon when we bereaved her of Ekström´s shadow. She was forestalling me and chivving the girls who dared to use racket as the scratching stick or a fan.

The wide tennis court benefited from the glass ceiling, and I cherished it from afar. It was splashed by the inrush of drops in the night, and the weather wasn´t any less Autumn today. Destination reached and secured, the girls formed arbitrary opponent pairs. When the leggier ones assumed the stance, my feet stiffed, so I reminded my head it is made of flesh, not bricks. But so were the girls. Gutiérezz showed what she´s got, and her friend Butcher bent her knees flexibly.

The special pedagogue was impelled to search for the dollies and long hair of Louisa. I found it all on the bench of waiting girls, but my concentration was required once again for Basma. She was watching the tosses, smashes, and rallies with grins. When Lolle called her name, I was sure those dark eyes contained a wish to fool around.

She grabbed the ball and shouted to her classmates: "Howdy, Holy Submission ducklings! Sometimes I said to myself, how colorful must be your lessons. Would I be a good student? I don´t want to find out. I think you look like this!" She opened her mouth and pushed the ball in, her eyes popping out in overacting. She tapped her backside a few times by the racket, and she went to the tennis net in which she wrapped up her hands. Basma was howling and laughing as much as the ball between her teeth allowed her.

Lolle squeezed the crown of Basma´s head and knocked out the ball, although the move could also shovel it deeper.

"You aren´t amusing me anymore," Lolle rasped.

"Ms. L, you can be amused only when you look in the mirror," Basma whispered. I rushed to them, intending to pacify Lolle. The temper of the champion receded without my credit. Lolle was swamped with work, pushing aside potty-mouthed youngsters, caught off guard by Basma pulling faces. The foxlings who wore two-pieces were trying to grab her brown jeans, grey sweatshirt, and green hijab. "Girls, tell me your names," Lolle asked some pushful ones. They did.

"You will be my execution squad. If Al-Yahya ever makes a joke about you or the education, if she shows anything but the utmost respect to her elders, the next time you will take a dump, you will make her eat what your guts cast up. Al-Yahya, can we begin anew?"

Basma pointed her eyes into Lolle´s."I sincerely apologize, fellow co-lector."

Emotionless. Probably the way fear manifested in someone so impulsive. Lolle watched her play and gave her over hundred commands and invectives per minute, crueler than wardens. Lolle had become fixed upon Basma, she was looking for an excuse to punish her. She pressed to the bench when rascal´s set was over. If one of the co-lectors listened, so could I. Basma needed to converse, and she breathed her desperation to the nearby-sitting Pignon.

"My dad must be worried, Barbara," she said in a low voice.

"He has no one else, and your people are forbidden to get plastered," Pignon responded. "But you are the one who could have acted like a lady in school and..." Pignon gasped. She scratched her eyebrow like she had blood-sucking flees brooding in the warmth of the lashes. "And you must live in the real world. What we are doing has consequences."

Basma rolled her tongue around. "I shouldn´t have "antagonize", that's what the principal said when the coppers spoiled my lunchtime. Here I met people who could have avoided it also they weren´t considered to be friends of the friends. One gal, Lewandowska is her name. She was ratted out!"

"By whom?" Pignon asked, not sounding much interested.

"She wouldn´t tell me. Brotherhood official, she didn´t want to shag. He did not sign the letter, but he was the begrudged guy she knew, and he would throw her here from the custody."

Pignon cut the thread and said both good and bad things about her parents, which in turn put the discussion back where it started, to Basma´s father. Just like me, Basma was glancing at Lolle. Reassuring? Questioning? Did she see the same change as I did? Lolle wasn´t checking on the Arab girl so unceasingly anymore. She instructed playing student girls, mindful of their styles, and looked satisfied with herself. Could there be some cold calculation involved?

The end of PE meant Lolle had one of her earlier laying downs for Lovemaking and the student girls went to mine and Lindsay´s class. I spoke to Basma and Pignon in the back of beyond while we still were outside. "Girls, that was a put-up job." They stared at each other.

"I think it was a put-up job from the second you´ve been playing around like a bigger retard than you are, Basma. You made sure Lolle will be watching your moves because you wanted her to hear the Lewandowska stuff."

It tipped me off how strained Pignon was and how she almost flapped at one point.

"That didn´t happen at all!" said the very girl.

"So, could I mention my suspicions to Lolle?" I asked.

"Can we buy your silence?" Basma asked and my suspicion became the knowledge of the truth.

"By the whole picture. And you will tell me today. You are doing something against co-lector, which puts me, and my wife at risk."

"We don´t have a time," Basma objected lazily. "I will announce that you two are in serious need of extra classes. We can all go to virtual reality. Its inner circuit should be free of bugs. They installed it last and it was arranged for the teacher and his small group."

"Zita and Alice will be there," Pignon said. "They will be making graphics for Shieldmaidens Raid."

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"Zita knows the basics and Alice confesses just to her computer pictures," whimpered Pignon.

"I don´t like the loony people," I stated sincerely. "But they tend not to be arseholes."
 
5-2-4

VR settings, designed for either education or entertainment are supposed to look fabulous, not to make sense. It´s the same bullshit principle as in religion. Virtual classroom for Biology had appearances of the desks attached to the raft, floating through the thick jungle. I could write the name of any animal, of any plant, stretch my arm into the branches, and I would pull out the specimen. In the advanced version, there will be "walking skeletons", people doing anything imaginable, while you can make any layer of their anatomy go away.

Basma and Pignon explained the plot they were part of. Woodroof and Kane came over, drawing the 3D models for their studio.

"That Lewandowska has a sharp wits bit they do her no good. Lolle is working for prefect Green, I could have told her that if she... Ugh, why would she be asking me? I will discourage her from the revenge... What she planned to achieve, exactly?"

"Therese knows the next stage, not we," Basma said.

The gal has put together an ingenious honey trap. Every Brotherhood potentate has some dirty laundry, they are just covering it by the tuxedo. And if somebody can prove what they had done... He just grows a little additional tentacle of power.

"I don´t think she wants to denounce somebody, it is a complete fabrication," Woodroof mused. "Stacey said she will keep her eye on Larissa´s operation."

"Zita, that is inconsistent worldbuilding," Kane argued. "We agreed that our temples are taking a cue from antiquity and the gothic period."

Woodroof twisted some of her lines of light on her lap differently.

"Stacey is not taking me, and Sylvia into consideration."

"Stacey wants to help us all!," shouted Pignon, much to the dismay of Woodroof.

"Clarify," I told her.

"She can... sometimes send emails, so she fakes up to work with the Tower to get a video of torturing Pepper and the others!"

I smiled. "Shame on me, working for them. Do you have more secrets?" Woodroof looked into my eyes.

"No. Honest to God."

"She can send emails?" Kane said. "I will write to my husband!“

"And I to my dad," realized Basma.

"She has a time window once or twice a month," Woodroof said. "She can write your messages, but it won´t be a dialogue."

They´ve eventually settled that Stacey will send their emails as a reward if they keep their mouths shut.

"I´m helping Therese. I love her," Basma said."Why didn´t she let me on it?"

"Sometimes you are capable of great stuff," I started in a conciliatory manner."But the rest is so much self-serving that people don´t know what would you do with their secrets."

She stood up and stomped. "Mrs. R, do you think this after living with me? Then I surrender. You should punish me!"

All women on the raft turned to her first, me the second.

"I always wanted to spank you," I stated truthfully.

"I was never spanked," she pondered.

"Sure you weren´t."

"Just so you know, I still won´t let lesbian touch mine butt. And it must be someone of acceptable belief stance."

"Mrs. Kane, I said automatically. "Do you believe in something?"

Kane put her left hand on her cheek. "I´m an agnostic."

"I will go with that," Basma said "My father once told me that being Muslim is your natural state. When you don´t refuse God in your heart and when you don´t accept inferior faith, you are close to that state." She went to the empty part of the raft and bent, grabbing her ankles. The jeans hinged the pretty round bottom tight.


"Mrs. Kane, hold her waist." I wasn´t letting this opportunity be wasted. Kane grabbed her, mouth opened widely.

"Slap the butt lightly, just give your arm some flight..."

Kane hit Basma nervously in the middle of the clothed ass and to the left cheek in the same tempo. The following slap was accurate "maternally", and Basma got six, then seven, then eight strokes in an intensity advisable to any naughty child spoiled by her parents. Woodroof and Pignon were watching her humiliation breathlessly. That is so satisfying about the public punishment. It strengthens your authority.

Basma wiggled her ass and legs. "Mrs. R, I deserve some slack!"

"No, Basma. You accurately guessed what you need, but only the teacher can judge the dosage... And now, STAND STILL!"

Kane was doing some shorter pauses between the smacks. Basma stopped resisting and never shouted, but I thought her butt must have been hot as were the tears dropping on the virtual wood. I deserve this moment as much as you do, girl. You have made the world a little fairer.

Errant schoolgirls usually go to the corner pointing the mauled backside to others with hands on her head so she wouldn´t rub the sore buttocks. In this case, we didn´t have much time, the harshness of the thrashing therefore sufficed.

Basma wasn´t going back to the chair. Before we could log out and march elsewhere, the loud whistling announced a new visitor in our simulation. In the center of the turquoise hexagon, the figure materialized, bearing the features of Jack Johansson.

"Mrs. Brunkow, do NPCs in VR games grow old, wither, and die? Real people do, and I´m a real boy. The appointments as I see, are a matter of duty and decency."

I was looking at the bright side that he didn´t arrive earlier.

"I ´m overworking because of children!" I dabbed Pignon´s head. "Video game characters are sometimes smarter. My lessons would be half-done if they haven´t seen mating of hippopotamuses." Saying that with a straight face was my idea of humor.

"One of your students suffers from aging defects."

There wasn´t a point in lying about Kane.

"Mrs. Brunkow, she should listen to our interview."

She isn´t my type!

The girls touched an invisible point above their heads and logged out.

He seated us, looking apologetic. "I was full of it," he said. "I´m not that impatient. It came in handy that you dissolved to ones and zeroes. I have heard what I shouldn´t have!"

Talk, teacher´s pet! Talk!

"I researched the infirmary. We have read gruesome newsletters, feeds, and enumerations abundant in surgeries Princess Towers are performing. But not here. You are living in... Safer haven, he, he, he! The injuries are mostly light. No patient caught my eye from amongst the rows of inmates, it was the secret that I saught. And when I say secret, I mean bed behind the screens. The lady on it had her head bandaged, but that did not make her unrecognizable. It was the warden whom I had in my place the other day. I asked her what happened, and she was like: ´Jenine Thompson jumped on me´."

"Thompson?" I asked. "The warden has a concussion, doesn´t she?"

Johansson was of a different opinion. "She told me very quietly that Thompson and one man escaped the detainment station, and Prefect Green demands some heads. Thompson´s being the most wanted one. He didn´t order that warden to be decapitated, although once he will be told she let her stay at large..."

"What do you want us to make of this information?" I inquired.

Johansson dipped his head to the chalice of fingers.

"By this day you should have a good grasp of who is a responsible one and who is a stupid scandalmonger. Trust those who are worth it. People of quality will be watching out and will do everything in their power to dignify her, to vindicate her ideally."

Kane checked on the graphic model she constructed for her holoshow. Was she escaping to fiction, confused from reality?

"Why do you sympathize with her? Did your grandfather kill a feminist?"

Johansson answered her with sarcastic laughter.

"My grandfather wouldn´t hurt anyone outside of the family. Speaking of that, Mrs. Brunkow already knows I have a relative in the House of Experts. Thanks to him I have heard senator Thompson accusing our regime of being irrational. I thought she would find logic in the order of things, in the traditional roles explained by the training. If fellow Mayson isn´t competent to do so, then the tenets of FPA can´t prove superior. Which they must. Before it happens, she needs clear up her dissent."

He sniffed.

"Also, if she escaped and is hiding, she must be intelligent, very cunning. She passed the test for a leader. Should have... Passed the genes. He, he, he."

Out of VR, he spoke no word that wouldn´t be about the bliss of the polygamical harmony. Easy for him to change the topic. Variables weren't many, but they carried a heaviness. Why has Thompson returned here? And the man who abandoned his post for her, is he an idealist, or will he succumb to the second thoughts? Would an inmate running across her spell doom for anyone, who was privy?
 
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