“Give me your belt and lay across the bed. You know what is going to happen. You have have been a bad boy and need a spanking don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes Mommy,” he said as he handed me the belt. Then he calmly lay across the bed for me.
I began by striking him one stiff blow, then I eased off. After the initial pain it was for the illusion more than anything. “Now are you going to be a good boy?” I asked. It was time to set the hook.
“Yes Mommy please, I promise I will be a good boy. Please stop, I promise I will be a good boy.” he begged.
“When I call you will do whatever Mommy asks?”
“Oh yes anything,” he said.
Have him tell you when the bidding for the crusader missile project is going to be held. came the message in my mind.
“Now tell Mommy, when the Crusader Missile is being bid?” I demanded
“April 15, tax day, it’s an inside joke,” he said. Yeah on the American people I thought. At that moment I could have beat him to death.
Give him his reward, the voice in my head said.
You fucking prick, I answered silently.
I flipped Jack Anderson over, Then I ever so slowly kissed his straining cock head. I wrapped my hand around the base so that I could hold it in place while I licked it like a lolly pop. As I lowered my mouth onto his cock taking it deeper I slipped my index finger into his rectum.
I stroked his cock a few times with my warm wet mouth and he began to cum. I sucked deeper and swallowed while I stroked his ass with my finger. He came like water from a garden hose. He did not spurt until the very end. Up until that point, he came in a steady stream. When I finished with his cock he was crying. I had no way of measuring the amount of semen I had swallowed but it was a significant amount I was sure.
I wanted him to at least return the favor, but the controller’s silent voice returned. No Maxine, he has to be powerless it’s part of the game you know that.
Yeah, I know you prick, I replied.
Maybe it’s time you teach your friend Sylvia?” Came the word from the controller.
“Maybe you need to go to hell, I replied. I had made the decision not to hit on Sylvia all by myself. That in itself was something. Not only that, I realized that something was different about it. I actually said no, and they had to allow me to say no. Eve could not have done that.
I stood and coldly said to Jack Anderson, “Dry your eyes, get your slimy ass dressed and leave. Do not say another word just leave.” I moved to the chair by the window and took stock of myself while he did just that.
It was three in the morning and my operating power reserve was well over 50%. After Jackie baby left I needed to clean up for sure, otherwise I was no worse for wear. Jackie however was going to find that he had just sold his sold to the devil. The information he gave me was only confidential, but he had passed on confidential information for kinky sex. He was indeed fucked. Even though he enjoyed the hell out it, it was going to prove not to have been a bargain.
I sat alone from 3AM until 10AM. Somewhere around 7AM the messages started.
Farm: Maxine what the fuck are you playing at?
Me: What the fuck are you talking about?
Farm: We finally found a photo to match up to the images from your scanner. The ones of the man who attempted the assassination of the Senator.
Me: Again what the fuck are you talking about?
Farm: We know it’s your boyfriend.
Me: I don’t have a boyfriend. If I did I doubt that I would have just finished fucking Jack Anderson for you.
Farm: You know what I mean. You knew who it was and didn’t tell us.
It should have bothered him that I could keep it from him. It should have bothered me that it didn’t bother him/her.
Me: My assignment was to keep the fucker alive and I did. I was tasked with nothing else. I’m going to fulfill the assignments you give me, but I’m not selling out people I know to do it. Unless of course they need it.
That last part was to make him/her nervous as to whether I would sell the Farmers out as well, if they needed it. They should be worried that I was becoming the old me with batteries and on steroids. I suddenly wondered if that had been a known possibility all along.
Maybe not for sure, but could they have known that there was a possibility that the circuits they loaded, with what had been me, might be able to take over the rest of the computer. If so would there ever be another Maxine class computer, probably not. I would be too unpredictable. I had always known that the new me would take some getting used to, but I thought it was me that needed the getting used to the new me. Maybe the creator was having just as many problems as me.
Me to the Farm: We probably need a meet.
Farm: Get Sylvia home first. Then we will have a STOL flight swing by your local grass field one day soon.
Me: Fair enough.
I went back to hibernation mode while I waited for Sylvia. Obviously she and the congressman had fun since it was 10AM when she got home. Not only that she was all smiles, which is a good sign with women the morning after.
“So did you have fun?” I asked.
“Yes I did and if you want details, you will have to buy lunch before we leave.” she informed me playfully.
“So are the details McDonald’s or A fancy steakhouse worthy?” I asked.
“He is a Congressman but only McDonald’s worthy, but I am steakhouse worthy for sure. You would have been proud.” she said.
“Then it’s fancy restaurant steak sandwiches to go,” I said in agreement. We began our drive home at noon after having picked up two steak and cheese sandwiches from one of those really fancy restaurants outside the local mall. I think the small town had the restaurant only because there was a college there. Usually a college can support a better class of restaurants for some reason. Aster, if it weren’t Helen’s home, would have nothing but fast food.
Sylvia opened the sandwiches and the cola cans once we made it onto the expressway. I managed to eat the sandwich and chips even as I negotiated my way through the maze of interchanges before I was headed south. After the sandwich I drove until I was out of Gasoline.
When I stopped near the Pennsylvania border, Sylvia stocked up on junk food again. Why she wasn’t 250 pounds, I had no idea. I continued to drive through the afternoon and into the night. It was almost midnight when I pulled the rental car into Tryon. With Twenty minutes more to go, I pulled over for a last gas stop. The car wasn’t sounding all that good, but it didn’t sound as though it were in it’s death throws either. I suppose that’s why I was surprised when the car wouldn’t start up again after I gassed it up.
“What are we going to do,” Sylvia asked.
“We can call a taxi to drive us to Aster, or you can call Peter. Most likely if we call a taxi it will take hours and a dozen different ones before someone actually shows up.” I said.
“I don’t want to call Peter,” she said.
“There is one more thing we could try.” I suggested before I checked on the web with my smarter than smart phone. I found the roadside assistance for the car rental company. “Hello,” I said to the slightly oriental sounding woman on the phone.
“I have one of your rental cars and it has broken down. I’m 20 miles from my destination what should I do?” I asked.
“Give me all the information and I will send you someone to take care of it,” she promised. I had no idea that I could trust her, since she was obviously thousands of miles away. If Sylvia had not been along, I might have called the farm.
I did take an hour during which time Sylvia gave me even more details about the congressman. “So are you planning to see him again?” I asked.
“I doubt it, but a year ago I was a peasant girl in the Ukraine and last night I fucked a US Congressman,” she said proudly.
“And for the rest of your life, hundreds of them will be fucking you,” I said.
It was 4AM before the tow truck came along to tow the car back to the rental lot. Sylvia and I rode in the car even though it was against the rules. When we arrived at the rental agency, I unlocked the Ugly Jap Truck and off we went.
I was home by 6am the day after New Years. It was not without it’s moments of doubt, but I did make it home and with Jack Anderson’s balls in my pocket.
I didn’t expect anything to happen on January 2nd. so I was surprised when I got the call from the farm on my internal message maker.
Farm: Call Sylvia tell her you are going to visit someone and then head over to that grass airstrip near Aster.
Me: It’s 10AM I can be at the strip by noon no sweat.
Farm: The plane will be there by 1PM so you need to be there at Noon for sure.
Me :Can do. I had no idea how much trouble I was in, but since the controller told me to tell Sylvia that I would be coming back, I assumed that I would.
When I got to the metal shed used as the office of the airstrip, I said to the very butch looking woman behind the counter, “There is a small plane was coming in around one to pick me up.”
“What kind of plane is it?” the woman asked in a very raspy voice typical of a heavy smoker.
“I really don’t know. A friend arranged it, but I didn’t know enough to ask.,” I informed her.
“Well this is a small strip. I hope the pilot is familiar with it.”
“I think he might have landed here last fall. A small plane picked me up here then as well.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “You are Maxine Stone the TV Star.”
“Well I’m Maxine Stone and I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a TV Star,” I admitted.
“Well you won an Emmy,” she said.
“Not me the producers of the show won it. I was just on stage when the picked it up.” I corrected.
“But that show is about you?” she asked.
“Well it was,” I said.
“The new season starts in March. I heard them say that just before Christmas.”
“So they tell me, but we aren’t shooting any more those shows are about things we did last year. Since I’m here there isn’t much drama.” I admitted.
“Hell Honey, most of the fun is how you see things and explain them.” She said. “I loved it when you told that reporter chick that negotiating was about giving a guy a clear choice. Like a hundred bucks or a slit throat. ‘I usually get my way when I explain it right.’ I almost died laughing. You don’t work with a script do you?” she finally asked.
“No ma’am they are only allowed to film what happens we do not re-shoot anything. Mike the producer complains that even the bullshit stuff isn’t allowed to be re-shot.”
The woman named Lucille and I chatted until the plane lowered onto the grass strip. “Damn, I have never seen one of those.” she said.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It was a plane originally designed for Air America in the Sixties. It was such a good plane they still make them. I have no idea who buys them now.” she informed me.
“Get your ass in Stone, we got miles to go before dark,” the pilot said. He had definitely never been in Vietnam. He had also never flown for Air American. I was pretty damn sure he flew for pigshit airlines.