by JG Jerome
Trevor frowns as his eyes glass over, and he slowly collapses at Myra’s feet.
Arianna launches out of her chair and grabs a handful of Myra’s hair in her left fist as she throws a punch at Myra’s face. Myra deflects the strike and whispers, “Goodnight, Mother.”
Arianna stumbles and backs away screaming “Tase her. Now! Light that ungrateful child up like a candelabra.”
Three Shadows land darts in Myra’s exposed flesh as she starts to jerk with powerful spasms and drops to the ground. Arianna shakes her head as she stands over her daughter. She looks to Jason. “Bring Morgan to us.” He snaps to attention and jogs off to Morgan’s quarters.
Megan addresses Arianna. “Mother, would you remind me why it is that you are torturing you favored daughter, your heir, and the one person that you can trust to unfailingly do whatever you desire? Myra loves you and obeys without question. I’m struggling with the logic.”
Arianna gets a confused look on her face and whispers, “Why am I doing this?” She paces in circles around Myra, looking down at her supine form. Megan kneels next to Myra and strokes her hair as Myra spasms on the earth trying to get control of her body. Arianna shakes her head and mutters arguments pro and con torturing her trusted advisor and favored daughter for five complete circuits until she sees a pair of boots step next to Myra’s head. Slowly tracking up the grimy boots, tights and leather vest, Arianna’s eyes rest on the face of her eldest daughter.
Morgan drawls, “You beckoned, Mommie-Dearest?”
Arianna cocks an eyebrow at her, “Morganna, we are already quite wroth with your sister. Don’t get on our bad side, young lady.”
Morgan sketches a curtsy, “Yes, Mommie-Dearest.” Then she stands erect and looks down at her sister. “So, why is my sister mewling on the ground?”
Arianna gives Morgan a confused look and then looks down at Myra. She mutters to herself for a moment and then looks back up to see Morgan’s cocked eyebrow.
“Be careful, Mother. Talking to yourself is my job. I’m really good at it.” She gives Arianna a sad puppy look. “Please don’t take that away from me.”
Arianna shakes her head and rubs her temples as she circles around her three daughters.
Finally she stops at Myra’s feet and looks down at her with an angry expression. “Moira, you disappoint us. You have been influenced heavily by that Laughlin trollop, but we expect you to be stronger than that. Your insolence will not be tolerated.”
Looking at Morgan, “Whip the insolence out of her. Don’t bring her back until she is obedient to her liege.”
Morgan bows her head, “Yes, Mother.” Turning and pointing to two of the Shadows standing around Arianna, “Dinks! Convey my sister to my chambers.” As Megan stands, Morgan hooks an arm and pulls her close. Morgan tells her, “Come on along, Baby. Let’s get Sissi settled.” Looking over her shoulder, “Come along, dinks.”
Two Shadows grab each of Myra’s arms and drag her out of the audience chamber in the wake of the two other princesses. Once they are out of the audience chamber and about twenty feet down the corridor, Morgan releases Megan’s arm and angrily whips around to face the two Shadows. “Listen up, dinks. I don’t approve of how you are dragging my sister down the hall as though she were a garbage bag. Pick her up, and carry her with care and respect due to the one person that has been busting her ass to make life better for you fucking ingrates. If you displease me, I will warm up on you before I turn my attention to my dear sister.”
Spinning back, she hooks Megan’s arm. She leans in and asks Megan, “What the fuck is going on, Megan? This is insane even by my standards.”
Megan looks into Morgan’s eyes, and Megan realizes Morgan appears more focused and sane than she has ever witnessed. Keeping her eyes locked, Megan tells her, “I’m pretty certain that mother is under attack by Summer. I have it on good authority they have well and thoroughly scrambled her brain. She got a little help this evening, but I fear it was too little too late.”
Morgan just looks at Megan for a full minute, before looking forward while nodding her head. “I was afraid of that. What to do? What to do?” They turn into a dark side corridor. After traveling a handful of yards into the darkness, Morgan’s eyes glow to trigger a series of small lights about four inches off the floor marking the footpath on either side of the corridor.
Morgan opens the door to her chambers and addresses the two Shadows. “Strip her and shackle her to the tree.” The Shadows look at her fearfully. She asks, “Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No Princess,” they mutter as they carry Myra in.
Morgan adds, “Don’t ruin her gown. That looks like an exquisite garment.” Then she draws Megan back out into the corridor.
Morgan tells her youngest sister, “Baby, get out of here. Get as far away from Mother as you can and don’t come back! I’ll do what I can here, but I need to ensure you’re out of reach and safe.”
Megan is taken aback at her supposedly insane sister’s focus. “Okay. I agree it’s probably best to not be here, but what are you going to do? Won’t you need my help?”
Morgan grasps Megan’s face in her hands and kisses her tenderly. Then she says, “I will call if I need you, Baby. I’ve been watching you, and I know you are much more than most people think. I have every confidence if I need you, you will be there for Moira and me. For now, it’s better if you’re out of range of the blast area from Mother’s temper. As for me...” Morgan pauses with a far-away look in her eyes. “...I will do my duty.”
She looks back at Megan. “Given how things went when Moira was young, I’ve been kept away from you for most of your life. It was the right thing to do, but don’t think for a minute that you and Sissi aren’t precious to me, Baby. I am fighting for the dream that I might one day be able to hold both of my sisters to me without them being afraid of me. Take care. I need to know you’re okay!” Then she kisses the confused wrinkle in Megan’s forehead.
Megan looks into Morgan’s eyes and sees the determination and will in her sister’s face. She leans in and kisses Morgan tenderly on her lips. “Welcome back, Morganna. It’s a pleasure to meet you. To quote someone I hold very dear, ‘you are mine, and I am yours.’ Call me and I will come, Sister.”
Morgan cocks an eyebrow at her baby sister, and then breaks into a warm genuine smile. She whispers, “Get out of here, kiddo! I need to get back into character.”
Megan kisses her cheek and hugs her before taking off down the corridor back towards the audience chamber.
Morgan yells into her suite, “Dinks! Aren’t you done yet?”
“Yes Princess!” they exclaim as they exit the chambers and stand before Morgan at attention.
She tells them, “Escort my baby sister wherever she needs to go. Ensure she gets there safely. If she even stubs a toe, I’ll be wearing your skins as my new suit of clothes. GO, DINKS! She’s already on her way without protection, you miserable curs!” They run down the corridor in Megan’s wake as Morgan cackles maniacally.
She continues to cackle as she steps inside her chambers and closes the door. She slowly lets the hysterical sounding laughter taper off as she moves gracefully through the filth on the floor to stand in front of the main feature of the entryway - a large, sturdy whipping tree. The tree is composed of two 10’ lengths of eight-by-eight posts of white oak crossed at the center. It is festooned with a variety of chain shackles, pulleys, cuffs, etcetera. The cross members are stained with a variety of bodily fluids.
Myra is naked, shackled to a pair of leather cuffs on a pair of chains stretching her up onto her toes. Morgan shakes her head when she realizes the Shadows didn’t shackle her ankles. “It’s hard to get good help,” she mutters.
Morgan calls over her shoulder past the entry chamber, “Hob! Attend me, please.”
A low gruff voice answers, “Attend me? Really? Have you been watching Downton Abbey again?” She looks sideways at the short, hairless, large-nosed creature standing barefoot in a onesie.
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Morgan chuckles, “No. Mother is using the royal pronoun again. Apparently it’s influenced my word choice. Listen up. Go find Myra’s Hob and bring him here. Don’t be seen by anyone. Also, find Christoff. Don’t bring him, but ensure he gets tucked away somewhere safe. Clear?”
“Crystal, Princess. Dein Wunsch ist mir Befehl,” and then he disappears.
She mutters, “Your wish is my command? Really? Little smart-ass.”
Morgan looks at Myra for a minute and walks back further into her suite past the dross that litters the entryway, back into an open plan suite with a kitchenette, dinette, and a great room. There are shoji screens between the sitting area and the bed. It’s decorated in clean contemporary furniture in teak and metal. She grabs a bottle of sparkling water and returns to the entryway. She cracks it open and takes a sip.
Morgan sips her water, and she gazes upon Myra who is watching her cautiously.
Finally Morgan says, “Hello Moira. I don’t know what you did to piss off Mommie-Dearest, but she is, and I quote, quite wroth with you. I’m supposed to beat the insolence out of you. How hard is that going to be, dear sister?”
Myra looks at her warily.
Morgan continues, “How good of an actress are you, sister?”
Myra looks back at her, her confusion apparent on her face.
Morgan tells Myra, “I expect you to hold out for the first two strokes before you break. The longest hold-out I’ve ever had was five strokes, but he was a Red Hat. Can we agree on two?”
Myra gives a confused nod.
Morgan pulls a coiled 12’ bullwhip from a hook on the wall. She drops the coil and then snaps the whip to flick Myra’s hair to the left of her head.
Myra gasps but stays quiet otherwise.
Morgan repeats on the right. Myra stays quiet, but she is quite disoriented.
Morgan tells her, “Okay, this time let out a barked gasp as the whip cracks. Can you do that?”
Myra smirks, “Yeah. I have some recent experience.”
Morgan snorts, “Try not to sound like you’re getting fucked. Let’s give it a go.”
The whip crack is followed by a gasped moan.
Morgan purses her lips before saying, “Not bad. Your new boyfriend must be something else.”
Myra’s face shines as she says, “You have no idea.”
“Wow, Moira. You sound like you’re in love. Okay, pay attention. I need a couple of convincing screams.” Morgan holds her phone to Myra’s ear and plays a recording of a scream. “Like that. Stay focused.”
Myra nods and sighs heavily.
Morgan cracks the whip, and Myra screams. She times the scream almost identically to those on the recording from Morgan’s phone. Morgan nods her approval and then cracks the whip again. Myra puts in another Oscar-worthy performance.
Morgan tells her quietly, “Keep ‘em coming while I scream back like a maniac”
Crack - scream
Morgan shouts, “That’s right, bitch!”
Crack - Myra screams.
Morgan shouts, “Oo, that’s a nice cut! Let’s see if I can take the other tit off in one stroke!” She laughs maniacally.
Crack - scream
Morgan shout’s again hysterically, “Oh, FUCK! It only cut half way through. I bet you like that, don’t you, slut!” Then she adds, “I can’t believe you passed out already, you weak fuckin’ bitch!”
Quieter, Morgan says, “Good job sister. I need to splash your blood on me. I’m going to take a big syringe-full.”
Morgan pulls a kit out of a drawer. She swabs over a vein in Myra’s leg and lets it dry before inserting a catheter and quickly collecting about 10 centiliters of blood. She puts the blood into an atomizer and sprays face, torso, arms, and boots. Then Morgan hides her implements in a drawer and puts the atomizer in a small fridge to the side.
She tells Myra, “Sorry, I need to leave you up there for a while.” Morgan grabs a couple of yoga blocks and sets them beside Myra’s feet. “Stand on these. Kick them away if the door opens. I’ll be back quickly.”
She stops and looks Myra in the face. “Keep the faith, sister.” She winks and steps out the door as Myra steps onto the blocks.
Myra shakes her head and tries to relax a bit now that she has less pressure on her shoulders.
* * *
Morgan puts her ‘crazy face’ on and opens her door, closes it, and locks the door using her abilities. There’s no visible lock, the mechanism is completely inside the door and keyed to her abilities. Only she and Hob can unlock it.
Morgan coaches herself to slow her purposeful stride to a carefree, meandering saunter that she maintains as she glides into the audience chamber. In front of the throne there is an ironwork metal tree like you might find in a garage used as an engine hoist. This one is decorated in elegant scrollwork, and the cross member is twelve feet in the air.
Corrina is hanging naked from the tree with a network of stripes across her back, buttocks, torso, breasts, and legs. Trevor is wielding a whip very similar to the one Morgan was employing in her chambers.
As Ariana spies Morgan she says, “Finally! Someone who knows what they are doing! Morganna, be a dear and split Captain Corrina’s flesh open please.”
Morgan holds out hand to Trevor. “Give that to me, amateur,” she tells him with a look of disgust on her face.
Trevor hands the grip of the weapon to Morgan without coiling it. Morgan shakes out the length of the whip and then quickly delivers four stripes. She places one on each lat muscle and each buttock in quick succession. Each splits the skin. She then coils the whip and tosses it at Trevor’s feet before telling him, “You really should learn to use that thing if you’re going to wield it, little lady.”
Trevor visibly fumes at the assault on his masculinity, but bows his head and says, “Yes, Princess.”
Morgan runs her gloved finger up Corrinna’s flesh to capture a globule of blood on her fingers. She licks the finger clean as she turns her attention to her mother on the throne and addresses her.
“Mommie-Dearest, I am checking to see if you wanted anything specific from Moira. She passed out already. I about cut her breasts off with the whip, but I figured it would be more effective if I waited for her to wake up before I finish the job.”
Arianna’s face reflects a variety of emotions: pain, confusion, happiness, sadness, back to confusion, and then finally anger. Finally she responds to Morgan, “Nothing specific. Just punish her.”
“Okay, Mommie-Dearest. Off I go,” Morgan replies. She says, “Work, work, work,” as she circles around Corrina to pick up another bloody treat on her fingers. Corrina watches her as she circles. Morgan gives her a quick wink that only Corrina can see before licking her fingers.
Morgan begins skipping a tour around the audience chamber singing, “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go” and continues skipping down the hall singing the “la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, hi-ho, hi-ho” all the way to her suite. Staying in character as she checks for observers up the corridor. Her eyes flash, and she hears the door unlock. She enters, closes the door, and locks it.
As Morgan turns to Myra, she spies two Hobgoblins at Myra’s feet.
“Oh, great,” she says. “Myra, have your Hob bring anything you might need for comfort. A favorite robe, warm socks, a favorite pillow, etcetera. You’re here until I can figure out how to stage an escape or fake your death.”
Myra looks at her for a moment, then gives her Hobgoblin a short list.
She caresses the ears of her Hob. “Give Hob a hand, dear.”
Morgan’s servant says “Yes mistress” before the Hobgoblins disappear.
Morgan shakes her head. “Tricksy little fuckers. After all these years, I still can’t figure out if they really disappear, of if they are just so fast and sneaky it appears that way.”
Myra asks as she hangs on the tree, “Is it safe to talk?”
Morgan nods, “Note how well lighted my chambers are. I still would be careful about how yo
u mention Mommie-Dearest.”
Myra asks, ”How long have you been playing insane?”
Morgan, shakes her head, “I’m not playing, Sissi.” She places the blocks back where Myra can stand on them.
Standing up, she looks Myra in the face, “I’m not playing at all. I wouldn’t have been able to lie to our mother about nearly cutting your tits off if I were sane, would I?” Morgan pauses and paces for a couple of moments. She looks up at Myra and says, “More to the point you’re asking, I’ve been getting better since Laurel has turned her attention to our mother. About eight years ago maybe? I’m still not right, but I can generally figure out right and wrong and how to not act crazy if I want to. It’s been a slow climb. I’ve managed to convince the Sith to give me a hidden addition to my suite. That let’s me go back there, clean up, and relax for a while. You know, act like a sane person where I don’t have an audience. Everyone thinks this antechamber is the whole thing. I work to maintain that illusion. I suspect mother would be ‘quite wrought’ with me if she knew I got a favor from the Sith. She’s been trying to convince it to make some changes for decades.”
Myra ponders that for a moment. Then she asks, “When did Laurel start messing with you?”
Morgan perches on the filthy chaise and regards Myra shrewdly for a moment before answering. “When I was twelve. We met at a court event. She had just come into her abilities at age 17. She planted a suggestion to ask to visit her regularly starting the following month. She didn’t even try to hide it; she just told me not to tell anyone. I was horrified, which I think is what she revelled in. I started to go crazy after the second suggestion, and it got worse every time. I had been seeing her two to six times each year until shortly after you got back from college.”
Myra says, “And we’re supposed to be the ‘dark, evil’ Sidhe,” as she ponders that.
Morgan nods, “Ironic, no?”
Myra looks up at Morgan, “My husband might be able to help you heal completely.”
Morgan is puzzled. “Husband?” she asks.
Myra nods enthusiastically with a blissful smile on her face. “Look,” she says as the bite mark on her trapezius glows green.