Addendum C [Assorted Fables]
Nov. 7th, 2025 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nebris"Final Solution"
~Janel was nervous to the point of nauseousness. At least, she called it 'nervousness'. Truth was, her tumble of emotions – fear, excitement, rage, guilt – was too much of a cascading mess for her to sort out any single one for more than a moment.
So she started cleaning the house again.
Mara watched the skinny raw boned brunette as she vacuumed the living room. At half past one in the morning. For maybe the tenth time in the last twenty four hours. She laughed a bit. “Coping,” she thought.
Mara was doing the same thing in her own way, a drop cloth spread over the kitchen table, her Ithaca 37 12 gauge military model pump action disassembled neatly, each dulled gunmetal piece getting loving attention. Again. At half past one in the morning. She grinned to herself.
Cassie was asleep in the back bedroom. Mara knew she didn't mind the sound of Janel's relentless cleaning. “Maintenance noise,” she called it, said it reminded her of Camp Anaconda back in Iraq and she found that comforting.
But no matter what Janel was doing, or not doing, either Cassie or Mara was awake. This operation was in its final phase. Randy, Janel's ex, was on the road.
He'd tracked her down before, three times in the past five years since she'd taken their two daughters and left. Left the yelling and threats and beatings and drunken rapes.
There'd been cops and restraining orders and battered women's shelters. And he never gave up. Janel knew that one day Randy would kill her.
When she'd wound up in one of The Sisterhood's battered women's shelters and told them her story, they agreed with her conclusion. And offered a final solution to her problem
So now, two months later, Randy was on the road.
He'd gotten a call at his job three states over. “Your cunt ex-wife is fucking some nigger,” the 'black sounding' woman's voice said in a growl. And gave him an address.
The Resolution Team tracked his truck's GPS, giving regular up-dates to Mara and Cassie. Mara was Inside on this one, Cassie was Outside.
Janel vacuumed. Her girls were hundreds of miles away in the desert learning how to ride horses. Hundreds of miles away from this two bedroom ranch style in a cul-de-sac, the place where they would soon be released from their past. They still woke up screaming these days, though less than before.
Cassie trotted into the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers, poured herself some coffee. She looked at Janel pushing the vacuum back and forth, smiled.
“My old master sergeant would fucking love her,” she said. Mara laughed, slipped another well cleaned piece into place.
“I was thinking of getting her some whitewash.” They both laughed loud enough for Janel to notice. She blushed, turned off the vacuum, wandered into kitchen.
“I wonder where he is?” she asked no one in particular.
“An hour or so away with a Glock and a bottle of Jim Beam,” Mara said dispassionately. Janel jumped as Mara worked the shotgun's slide a few times.
Cassie pulled out the chair next to her, patted its seat. “Sit down and breath, Janel. Don't want you crashing before show time.”
Janel smiled wanly, sat down. Cassie rubbed her shoulders. “This will all be over soon, honey. And then you and your girls will be free. Now take some deep breaths.” Janel did so and began to relax just a bit.
Forty minutes later Cassie sat in the van parked in the driveway, once again wishing she still smoked and grateful that she didn't. She patted her own pump action, a near twin of Mara's, a short barreled, folding stock, pistol grip baby.
A voice whispered in her ear piece, ” This is Sky Box. The subject's vehicle just turned onto Dorado Drive, going north bound.”
“This is Top. Copy that,” she said.
“This is Bottle. Copy that,” came Mara's voice on the push.
After a few minutes, a pick up truck drove into the cul-de-sac, then stopped a couple of houses down, turned off its lights.
Cassie checked its plates with a night scope. “This is Top. Confirmed subject's vehicle has arrived. Repeat, subject's vehicle has arrived. Over.”
“This is Bottle. Copy that,” said Mara.
“This is Sky Box. Copy that,” said the 'whispered voice'.
Randy sat in his truck looking at the house where 'his cunt ex wife was fucking some nigger'. He took a slug from the Jim Beam, a big one this time. His Glock .45 lay upon the passenger seat.
He knew he was going to kill Janel tonight, if he found her, then himself. Maybe some nigger, too. He didn't think about 'his girls', but he'd probably kill them too if they were there.
He took another big slug, picked up the Glock, and got out.
“This is Top. The subject has exited his vehicle. ID is confirmed. Wait one.” Cassie peered intently into the night scope. “The subject is armed. The weapon is in his front waistband. Repeat, the weapon is in his front waistband. Over”
“This is Bottle. Copy the weapon is in his front waistband. Standing by. Over.”
“This is Sky Box. Copy that.”
Randy walked up to the door, knocked hard. “Janel! Janel!” he shouted, “Are you in there?”
A moment passed...
“Randy, you fucking piece of shit loser! Get the fuck outta here and go fuck yourself!” Janel screamed from behind the door.
Randy vaguely thought she seemed like she was purposely trying to piss him off, but he was too drunk and too angry to give a shit.
“You fucking cunt! Open this fucking door!” he screamed as he pounded on the door.
“Take your tiny pinky dick and go fuck some dog!” she screamed with real rage.
“You're fucking some nigger, ain't ya!?” he screamed through a red haze.
“Yes I am! He's got a big black cock and I suck it every night!” She was laughing hysterically now.
The red haze consumed him. He pulled out the Glock and kicked the door. It flew open and half off of its hinges with surprising ease. He rushed through the doorway, but then stopped dead in his tracks.
Not six feet away was a large blond in black BDU's pointing a shotgun straight at him.
Cassie heard the single shot, tensed.
After a beat, “This is Bottle. Code Black. Repeat, Code Black. Bottle out.”
Cassie took a deep breath. “This is Top. Acknowledge Code Black. Over.”
“This is Sky Box. Roger Code Black. Over.”
Cassie jumped out of the van and went up to the front door, watching out for blood spatter. Randy's corpse was crumpled in the doorway itself, nothing left north of his lower jaw.
Janel was about ten feet back, looking it the thing in the doorway with an indescribable expression. Mara carefully handed Cassie her radio. “Scoot,” she said, blowing a kiss.
“Ten four,” said Cassie with a smile.
Driving out of the cul-de-suc, she radioed, “This is Top. Code Blue. Repeat, Code Blue. Top out.”
“This is Sky Box. Roger Code Blue.”
Deputy Sheriff Bonita Garza sat in her black and white sipping green tea from a bottle. A large black van drove down the other side of the street, flashed its brights twice.
Garza turned over the engine, turned on the lights, stepped on the brake pedal, put the cruiser in gear, waited.
Her radio squawked a few seconds later, “All units in the vicinity of sixteen hundred North Dorado court. Shots fired. Possible one eight seven.”
Garza responded instantly. “This is Adam one seven. Proceeding north on the thirty five thousand block of Dorado Drive. Responding Code Two.”
She roared up the block, sirens wailing and light bar flashing. She knew exactly where she was going.
~*~
Two months later the case file landed on the desk of ADA Jim Dubchek. And then sat there for another ten days.
When he finally reviewed it, he was unimpressed. Randell Pinkston shot dead breaking into the house of Janel Raed, his ex wife. He had a gun and a high blood alcohol level. She had a TRO and a bodyguard, one Mara Jensen, who was the actual shooter.
Now Ms Jensen looked impressive. Bonded and Licensed security agent. Veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Ex-US Army Military Police NCO. LA County Reserve Deputy Sheriff.
The Robbery/Homicide investigation had signed off on this a 'clean self defense shooting'.
“Public service homicide,” Dubchek muttered, and dropped the file in his Decline box.
There was a small nagging part of his subconscious that wondered how Pinkston had found his wife and that it all seemed a bit 'too neat'. Dubchek was a pretty good ADA. But he stashed that nagging feeling away.
He could work that out tonight while groveling before Mistress Carmella, licking her boots, and taking her lashings. He did need to be guilty of 'something'.
Night Watch
~Eva, First High Priestess of The Sisterhood of The Pentavalent, had slept restlessly. Since her spine had been repaired, she could sleep on her side again, though her breasts would always be too big for her to sleep on her belly. She had tossed and turned for hours, drifting in and out. Anca and Chrissy, the two of her Wives sharing the Big Bed tonight, a double California King, had moved over earlier.
Around 2am, she gave up, got out of bed, put on an ivory colored silk robe. Two pretty young men, her Body Servants who slept at the foot of the bed, came to alertness, looked up expectantly. They both wore Collars with The Sisterhood's Sigil at the throat. Eva smiled and put a finger to her lips. They nodded, smiled sleepily, lay down again. She regarded her soundly sleeping Wives with an soft envious smile, then went out on the Master Bedroom's balcony.
It was a cool spring evening in SoCal. The Mansion's sprawling vastness sat atop a large hill up in the canyons of Beverly Hills, which provided Eva with a panoramic view of Century City. Fog shrouded half of Los Angeles. She took in a deep breath of the moist night air.
Though is was the middle of the night, The Mansion, being an SH/HQ, was still busy. Laundry being done, food being prepared, equipment being maintained, and down below, business being conducted. She did her best to put that all out of her mind.
Eva stood there standing in the dark for about a half an hour. Part of her regretted she didn't smoke any more. Then she went into her private office and checked SH's internal comnet to see if Nebris was awake up in the High Desert Karaal. It being the middle of night, of course he was.
He grinned at her from the monitor. “Can't sleep, Your Grace?”
She knew he was teasing her by using the Formal Address and bared her teeth at him. “Smart ass,” she said.
He laughed. “You know why, babe. Go check up on her.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “You know me too well.”
He blew her a kiss. “That's why you keep me around.”
She blew a kiss back at him, logged off, left the office, headed for her personal elevator. Once inside, she pressed 'B2'.
Below The Mansion was an extensive underground complex, all built in secret. Beverly Hills rested upon bedrock so earthquakes didn't have the same impact there as the rest of LA.
Basement One was garage with separate vehicle elevator, plus several ramps leading to garages of SH owned 'family' homes surrounding The Mansion which were also defensive strong points. The Sisters used those when they needed to come and go in secret, which was fairly often.
Basement Three was a vast storage space full of supplies and connected the Basement Three Annex, which held a Thorium Reactor with massive two water cisterns on either side. That reactor could power The Mansion for twenty years without refueling. The cisterns and the Mansion's recycling system could provide water for over a year.
Eva had a tour of that level just once and had Bunker nightmares for days.
Basement Two was SH's operational center with offices and a large server farm. The ceilings were a little over 300 centimeters, painted with pastels, with soft lighting so as to ease claustrophobia. Eva had made sure of that.
The elevator opened onto small foyer with landscape murals. To the right was a large office area with dozens of bubble shaped 'cubicles'. There was always activity as SH ran various global operations from here.
To the left the wall continued, with several doors to private offices. About half were with open with their lights on. Down at the end were a pair of double doors. That was Eva's destination.
As she walked toward those doors, she heard all the activity taking place; many languages being spoken, laughter, music playing, a few angry conversations, some of the cubicles had their curtains drawn. All of those Sisters ignored her.
The Sisters in the offices nodded their heads formally as she walked past, then continued with their work. Eva gave each one a small nod of acknowledgment in return.
She reached the double doors and dramatically threw them open to reveal...a large cafeteria.
About a dozen or so Sisters are clustered here and there in small groups talking, or singly, eating and reading. As Eva came through the doors they all stopped and begin to rise. But she smiled and waved them to sit, then proceeded to the food counter. It is classic cafeteria, having a glass front displaying everything from hot food to desserts.
Behind the counter a short slim man stepped up. He was in his 40's, had a shaved head covered by a classic white paper 'server's hat' and a Collar with the SH Sigil at the throat. He wore the white uniform of a food worker, which also had the SH Sigil on its breast. He bowed and then smiled knowingly at Eva. “How may I be of Service, Your Grace?”
Eva grinned. “Black Forest cake.”
“Always, Your Grace,” he said with a happy chirp.
“With a glass of tea,” Eva said. “But first I must attended to something.”
“I Serve at your pleasure, Mistress,” he said and bowed deeply.
She turned, headed toward a heavy door on the other side of the cafeteria.
~*~
The room was large, quiet, dimly lit, full of conventional cubicles, each with a very large monitor. Half of them were occupied, each Sister attending watching the monitor closely, occasionally speaking softly into her headset mic.
Eva walked directly to one of the cubicles. Sitting there was Gemma, a cute redhead with freckles. She wore flip-flops, dark sweats and a black sport shirt with the SH Sigil above the pocket.
She acknowledged Eva with a nod, but remained focused upon the monitor.
“How is she doing?” Eva asked softly.
Gemma out her hand over the mic. “She's just finished, Your Grace,” she said just as softly, her English accent quite distinct.
The monitor showed a four way split screen of a luxury hotel room. On the bed lay an older man face down. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he'd appear dead.
Sitting naked at the vanity was a petite young brunette brushing her hair. She had a number of welts across her back. The closeup frame of her pretty heart shaped face showed large wide eyes, a strong nose and a mouth set in an insolent smirk.
“She took him to town, Your Grace,” Gemma said with a grin.
Eva smiled back at her. “Dear Em.”
She'd been worried. This was the first time Em had been back in the field in eighteen months. And she was still nursing her first Daughter, though that did make her tits very ripe.
“Her driver is waiting downstairs,” said Gemma. “I'll let you know when she's away.”
“Thank you, Gemma,” Eva said with a gentle smile.
Gemma dipped her head. “I live to Serve, Your Grace.”
“Your Service is Blessed, my Sister,” Eva replied.
~*~
Eva sat in the cafeteria with a small group of Sisters. One of them was describing the odd habits of a particular Daddy. The Counterman came up, placed a slice of Black Forest cake and a glass of tea in front of Eva, bowed deeply, then withdrew.
The Sister telling the story looked at Eva and the cake. Eva grinned. “Go right ahead. Remember, I'm an old hand in the Sugar Bowl,” she said, then shoved a forkful of cake in her mouth.
The Sisters all nodded, grinned, and the tale teller continued on...
The Preface to The Preface
https://nebris.dreamwidth.org/1692547.html
~Janel was nervous to the point of nauseousness. At least, she called it 'nervousness'. Truth was, her tumble of emotions – fear, excitement, rage, guilt – was too much of a cascading mess for her to sort out any single one for more than a moment.
So she started cleaning the house again.
Mara watched the skinny raw boned brunette as she vacuumed the living room. At half past one in the morning. For maybe the tenth time in the last twenty four hours. She laughed a bit. “Coping,” she thought.
Mara was doing the same thing in her own way, a drop cloth spread over the kitchen table, her Ithaca 37 12 gauge military model pump action disassembled neatly, each dulled gunmetal piece getting loving attention. Again. At half past one in the morning. She grinned to herself.
Cassie was asleep in the back bedroom. Mara knew she didn't mind the sound of Janel's relentless cleaning. “Maintenance noise,” she called it, said it reminded her of Camp Anaconda back in Iraq and she found that comforting.
But no matter what Janel was doing, or not doing, either Cassie or Mara was awake. This operation was in its final phase. Randy, Janel's ex, was on the road.
He'd tracked her down before, three times in the past five years since she'd taken their two daughters and left. Left the yelling and threats and beatings and drunken rapes.
There'd been cops and restraining orders and battered women's shelters. And he never gave up. Janel knew that one day Randy would kill her.
When she'd wound up in one of The Sisterhood's battered women's shelters and told them her story, they agreed with her conclusion. And offered a final solution to her problem
So now, two months later, Randy was on the road.
He'd gotten a call at his job three states over. “Your cunt ex-wife is fucking some nigger,” the 'black sounding' woman's voice said in a growl. And gave him an address.
The Resolution Team tracked his truck's GPS, giving regular up-dates to Mara and Cassie. Mara was Inside on this one, Cassie was Outside.
Janel vacuumed. Her girls were hundreds of miles away in the desert learning how to ride horses. Hundreds of miles away from this two bedroom ranch style in a cul-de-sac, the place where they would soon be released from their past. They still woke up screaming these days, though less than before.
Cassie trotted into the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers, poured herself some coffee. She looked at Janel pushing the vacuum back and forth, smiled.
“My old master sergeant would fucking love her,” she said. Mara laughed, slipped another well cleaned piece into place.
“I was thinking of getting her some whitewash.” They both laughed loud enough for Janel to notice. She blushed, turned off the vacuum, wandered into kitchen.
“I wonder where he is?” she asked no one in particular.
“An hour or so away with a Glock and a bottle of Jim Beam,” Mara said dispassionately. Janel jumped as Mara worked the shotgun's slide a few times.
Cassie pulled out the chair next to her, patted its seat. “Sit down and breath, Janel. Don't want you crashing before show time.”
Janel smiled wanly, sat down. Cassie rubbed her shoulders. “This will all be over soon, honey. And then you and your girls will be free. Now take some deep breaths.” Janel did so and began to relax just a bit.
Forty minutes later Cassie sat in the van parked in the driveway, once again wishing she still smoked and grateful that she didn't. She patted her own pump action, a near twin of Mara's, a short barreled, folding stock, pistol grip baby.
A voice whispered in her ear piece, ” This is Sky Box. The subject's vehicle just turned onto Dorado Drive, going north bound.”
“This is Top. Copy that,” she said.
“This is Bottle. Copy that,” came Mara's voice on the push.
After a few minutes, a pick up truck drove into the cul-de-sac, then stopped a couple of houses down, turned off its lights.
Cassie checked its plates with a night scope. “This is Top. Confirmed subject's vehicle has arrived. Repeat, subject's vehicle has arrived. Over.”
“This is Bottle. Copy that,” said Mara.
“This is Sky Box. Copy that,” said the 'whispered voice'.
Randy sat in his truck looking at the house where 'his cunt ex wife was fucking some nigger'. He took a slug from the Jim Beam, a big one this time. His Glock .45 lay upon the passenger seat.
He knew he was going to kill Janel tonight, if he found her, then himself. Maybe some nigger, too. He didn't think about 'his girls', but he'd probably kill them too if they were there.
He took another big slug, picked up the Glock, and got out.
“This is Top. The subject has exited his vehicle. ID is confirmed. Wait one.” Cassie peered intently into the night scope. “The subject is armed. The weapon is in his front waistband. Repeat, the weapon is in his front waistband. Over”
“This is Bottle. Copy the weapon is in his front waistband. Standing by. Over.”
“This is Sky Box. Copy that.”
Randy walked up to the door, knocked hard. “Janel! Janel!” he shouted, “Are you in there?”
A moment passed...
“Randy, you fucking piece of shit loser! Get the fuck outta here and go fuck yourself!” Janel screamed from behind the door.
Randy vaguely thought she seemed like she was purposely trying to piss him off, but he was too drunk and too angry to give a shit.
“You fucking cunt! Open this fucking door!” he screamed as he pounded on the door.
“Take your tiny pinky dick and go fuck some dog!” she screamed with real rage.
“You're fucking some nigger, ain't ya!?” he screamed through a red haze.
“Yes I am! He's got a big black cock and I suck it every night!” She was laughing hysterically now.
The red haze consumed him. He pulled out the Glock and kicked the door. It flew open and half off of its hinges with surprising ease. He rushed through the doorway, but then stopped dead in his tracks.
Not six feet away was a large blond in black BDU's pointing a shotgun straight at him.
Cassie heard the single shot, tensed.
After a beat, “This is Bottle. Code Black. Repeat, Code Black. Bottle out.”
Cassie took a deep breath. “This is Top. Acknowledge Code Black. Over.”
“This is Sky Box. Roger Code Black. Over.”
Cassie jumped out of the van and went up to the front door, watching out for blood spatter. Randy's corpse was crumpled in the doorway itself, nothing left north of his lower jaw.
Janel was about ten feet back, looking it the thing in the doorway with an indescribable expression. Mara carefully handed Cassie her radio. “Scoot,” she said, blowing a kiss.
“Ten four,” said Cassie with a smile.
Driving out of the cul-de-suc, she radioed, “This is Top. Code Blue. Repeat, Code Blue. Top out.”
“This is Sky Box. Roger Code Blue.”
Deputy Sheriff Bonita Garza sat in her black and white sipping green tea from a bottle. A large black van drove down the other side of the street, flashed its brights twice.
Garza turned over the engine, turned on the lights, stepped on the brake pedal, put the cruiser in gear, waited.
Her radio squawked a few seconds later, “All units in the vicinity of sixteen hundred North Dorado court. Shots fired. Possible one eight seven.”
Garza responded instantly. “This is Adam one seven. Proceeding north on the thirty five thousand block of Dorado Drive. Responding Code Two.”
She roared up the block, sirens wailing and light bar flashing. She knew exactly where she was going.
~*~
Two months later the case file landed on the desk of ADA Jim Dubchek. And then sat there for another ten days.
When he finally reviewed it, he was unimpressed. Randell Pinkston shot dead breaking into the house of Janel Raed, his ex wife. He had a gun and a high blood alcohol level. She had a TRO and a bodyguard, one Mara Jensen, who was the actual shooter.
Now Ms Jensen looked impressive. Bonded and Licensed security agent. Veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Ex-US Army Military Police NCO. LA County Reserve Deputy Sheriff.
The Robbery/Homicide investigation had signed off on this a 'clean self defense shooting'.
“Public service homicide,” Dubchek muttered, and dropped the file in his Decline box.
There was a small nagging part of his subconscious that wondered how Pinkston had found his wife and that it all seemed a bit 'too neat'. Dubchek was a pretty good ADA. But he stashed that nagging feeling away.
He could work that out tonight while groveling before Mistress Carmella, licking her boots, and taking her lashings. He did need to be guilty of 'something'.
Night Watch
~Eva, First High Priestess of The Sisterhood of The Pentavalent, had slept restlessly. Since her spine had been repaired, she could sleep on her side again, though her breasts would always be too big for her to sleep on her belly. She had tossed and turned for hours, drifting in and out. Anca and Chrissy, the two of her Wives sharing the Big Bed tonight, a double California King, had moved over earlier.
Around 2am, she gave up, got out of bed, put on an ivory colored silk robe. Two pretty young men, her Body Servants who slept at the foot of the bed, came to alertness, looked up expectantly. They both wore Collars with The Sisterhood's Sigil at the throat. Eva smiled and put a finger to her lips. They nodded, smiled sleepily, lay down again. She regarded her soundly sleeping Wives with an soft envious smile, then went out on the Master Bedroom's balcony.
It was a cool spring evening in SoCal. The Mansion's sprawling vastness sat atop a large hill up in the canyons of Beverly Hills, which provided Eva with a panoramic view of Century City. Fog shrouded half of Los Angeles. She took in a deep breath of the moist night air.
Though is was the middle of the night, The Mansion, being an SH/HQ, was still busy. Laundry being done, food being prepared, equipment being maintained, and down below, business being conducted. She did her best to put that all out of her mind.
Eva stood there standing in the dark for about a half an hour. Part of her regretted she didn't smoke any more. Then she went into her private office and checked SH's internal comnet to see if Nebris was awake up in the High Desert Karaal. It being the middle of night, of course he was.
He grinned at her from the monitor. “Can't sleep, Your Grace?”
She knew he was teasing her by using the Formal Address and bared her teeth at him. “Smart ass,” she said.
He laughed. “You know why, babe. Go check up on her.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “You know me too well.”
He blew her a kiss. “That's why you keep me around.”
She blew a kiss back at him, logged off, left the office, headed for her personal elevator. Once inside, she pressed 'B2'.
Below The Mansion was an extensive underground complex, all built in secret. Beverly Hills rested upon bedrock so earthquakes didn't have the same impact there as the rest of LA.
Basement One was garage with separate vehicle elevator, plus several ramps leading to garages of SH owned 'family' homes surrounding The Mansion which were also defensive strong points. The Sisters used those when they needed to come and go in secret, which was fairly often.
Basement Three was a vast storage space full of supplies and connected the Basement Three Annex, which held a Thorium Reactor with massive two water cisterns on either side. That reactor could power The Mansion for twenty years without refueling. The cisterns and the Mansion's recycling system could provide water for over a year.
Eva had a tour of that level just once and had Bunker nightmares for days.
Basement Two was SH's operational center with offices and a large server farm. The ceilings were a little over 300 centimeters, painted with pastels, with soft lighting so as to ease claustrophobia. Eva had made sure of that.
The elevator opened onto small foyer with landscape murals. To the right was a large office area with dozens of bubble shaped 'cubicles'. There was always activity as SH ran various global operations from here.
To the left the wall continued, with several doors to private offices. About half were with open with their lights on. Down at the end were a pair of double doors. That was Eva's destination.
As she walked toward those doors, she heard all the activity taking place; many languages being spoken, laughter, music playing, a few angry conversations, some of the cubicles had their curtains drawn. All of those Sisters ignored her.
The Sisters in the offices nodded their heads formally as she walked past, then continued with their work. Eva gave each one a small nod of acknowledgment in return.
She reached the double doors and dramatically threw them open to reveal...a large cafeteria.
About a dozen or so Sisters are clustered here and there in small groups talking, or singly, eating and reading. As Eva came through the doors they all stopped and begin to rise. But she smiled and waved them to sit, then proceeded to the food counter. It is classic cafeteria, having a glass front displaying everything from hot food to desserts.
Behind the counter a short slim man stepped up. He was in his 40's, had a shaved head covered by a classic white paper 'server's hat' and a Collar with the SH Sigil at the throat. He wore the white uniform of a food worker, which also had the SH Sigil on its breast. He bowed and then smiled knowingly at Eva. “How may I be of Service, Your Grace?”
Eva grinned. “Black Forest cake.”
“Always, Your Grace,” he said with a happy chirp.
“With a glass of tea,” Eva said. “But first I must attended to something.”
“I Serve at your pleasure, Mistress,” he said and bowed deeply.
She turned, headed toward a heavy door on the other side of the cafeteria.
The room was large, quiet, dimly lit, full of conventional cubicles, each with a very large monitor. Half of them were occupied, each Sister attending watching the monitor closely, occasionally speaking softly into her headset mic.
Eva walked directly to one of the cubicles. Sitting there was Gemma, a cute redhead with freckles. She wore flip-flops, dark sweats and a black sport shirt with the SH Sigil above the pocket.
She acknowledged Eva with a nod, but remained focused upon the monitor.
“How is she doing?” Eva asked softly.
Gemma out her hand over the mic. “She's just finished, Your Grace,” she said just as softly, her English accent quite distinct.
The monitor showed a four way split screen of a luxury hotel room. On the bed lay an older man face down. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he'd appear dead.
Sitting naked at the vanity was a petite young brunette brushing her hair. She had a number of welts across her back. The closeup frame of her pretty heart shaped face showed large wide eyes, a strong nose and a mouth set in an insolent smirk.
“She took him to town, Your Grace,” Gemma said with a grin.
Eva smiled back at her. “Dear Em.”
She'd been worried. This was the first time Em had been back in the field in eighteen months. And she was still nursing her first Daughter, though that did make her tits very ripe.
“Her driver is waiting downstairs,” said Gemma. “I'll let you know when she's away.”
“Thank you, Gemma,” Eva said with a gentle smile.
Gemma dipped her head. “I live to Serve, Your Grace.”
“Your Service is Blessed, my Sister,” Eva replied.
Eva sat in the cafeteria with a small group of Sisters. One of them was describing the odd habits of a particular Daddy. The Counterman came up, placed a slice of Black Forest cake and a glass of tea in front of Eva, bowed deeply, then withdrew.
The Sister telling the story looked at Eva and the cake. Eva grinned. “Go right ahead. Remember, I'm an old hand in the Sugar Bowl,” she said, then shoved a forkful of cake in her mouth.
The Sisters all nodded, grinned, and the tale teller continued on...
The Preface to The Preface
https://nebris.dreamwidth.org/1692547.html
Mistress Erika Gets Her Bitch Rod
Date: 2025-11-08 08:12 am (UTC)Death Visits The Dynamic
Date: 2025-11-08 08:16 am (UTC)“Last Days At Coconino Seven”
Date: 2025-11-10 07:54 am (UTC)linkage tech
"Culling"
Date: 2025-11-10 08:08 am (UTC)linkage tech
The Miracle of Birth Version 2.0
Date: 2025-11-10 08:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2025-11-10 08:25 am (UTC)Janeing in The Slums of Bessport
Date: 2025-11-10 08:31 am (UTC)she shuts down all her comms systems
(no subject)
Date: 2025-12-30 12:12 pm (UTC)