by Jamie Knight
Morgan bit her lower lip to keep herself from screaming lest it make me stop. Getting in up to the wrist again, I stroked her pelvis as I worked my hand in her pussy, coaxing her to a nearly blackout orgasm.
Gently cleaning us both off, I held her and kissed her until she recovered enough to stand. Going to the closet, I picked out another outfit for her. Morgan stood perfectly still as I dressed her.
“I want you to go to the other wing and get your daughter. Pack up what you want to take and wait for me there. I will be there as soon as I can.”
“Yes, Master.”
I kissed her tenderly and Morgan went off to fulfill my instructions. Once she was gone, I zipped up and went to do what needed to be done come hell or high water.
The submarine sound came out of my computer, the call icon in the middle. It didn't take long. Murdoch was on the screen in living color. His tie was a grave affront to both God and man alike.
“What is it this time, Leary?”
“I'm sorry, does the phrase ‘controlling interest’ mean anything to you?”
“Certainly. It means that I am retiring in three days, so I don't have to put up with any more of your shit.”
“Oh, good, so we can speak frankly then and not like a couple of bullshitters.”
“Indeed,” Murdoch said.
“I'm out. The show is over. Morgan is going home and you toe-rags can all go fuck yourselves.”
“I see. Well I must say, that is a revolt. We were going to end filming tomorrow as we already have all the footage we need. Including the cameras that we had planted in your bedroom. Very interesting, I must say.”
“Sara will never allow that,” I said.
“She is just a showrunner. My influence goes much further than that. I won't be in power much longer, but it will be long enough to ruin you. Just like you did to Bateman."
“You can’t do that.”
“We can do whatever we want and so can you. Good day, Mr. Leary.”
It was even faster to execute my next plan than I had thought. I knew I had a good memory, but I was close to setting the world record. I had experience, of course. Not that anyone else knew that. Encryption was the first thing I learned and I had only gotten better with age. The CIA couldn't track me down with the protections I was using. According to Shonna, they had already tried.
It felt a bit weird wearing shades in the dark, but screen burn would have been even worse. The streams ran across the screen. I couldn't believe how basic the system was. It was like UNIX but older. It said more about the security head than the company itself, but I still had to laugh. It really was too easy.
Click. Delete. Click. Delete.
Every file marked WhoWants.Billionaire disappeared behind an untraceable firewall. I tried to imagine Murdoch's face when they told him. Knowing him, he would try to come after me. It was interesting how often weak little men had threats and retribution as their default. Almost as though they were trying to compensate for something.
It made sense. I hadn't touched the rest of the company's mainframe and Murdoch was one of maybe three people on Earth who knew that I had done time for hacking. That was before I really figured out how to cover myself. I would be the prime suspect. Too bad he couldn't prove anything.
Besides, it would sound absolutely absurd for the person with controlling interest to attack their own company. Even if I hadn't hacked the registry and deleted my prison record. It could be considered too much to also send an unedited version of Murdoch's financial records to the IRS, but he had made the mistake of messing with someone I loved.
When I next saw Morgan, she looked great. Realistically, she hadn't really changed since I last saw her two hours before, but my perspective had changed somewhat since then. Complete and glorious victory over an enemy could do that.
“Ah-am?” Freya asked.
“Close enough, little one,” I said.
“The champion returns,” Astrid said, with just an edge of snark.
“You have no idea how true that is.”
“What did you do?” Morgan asked.
“Something I could get arrested for were I not terribly, frighteningly clever.”
“You didn't kill anyone, did you?” Astrid asked with surprising gravitas.
“Oh, my God, no!”
"Glad to hear it," Morgan said.
“I just made them wish they were dead.”
“Much better,” Astrid said.
“That's not all. I have a surprise.”
I brought the baseball bats out from behind my back, three in all, the business ends laid across my left hand as if they were flowers.
“Most guys just get flowers,” Astrid said.
“I like to think outside the box. I thought before we left you might like to wantonly destroy all of the very expensive recording equipment the studios installed around the house.”
“Absolutely,” Morgan said, with surprising enthusiasm.
I handed her one of the bats and she went running out through the still open door to begin the festivities.
“What do you say," I asked, extending a bat to Astrid handle first. "Up for some righteous destruction?”
“Oh, hell yeah!”
Astrid grabbed the bat and followed Morgan, leaving just me and Freya in the second wing.
“Ah-am?”
“It's Adam, but that's still very close.”
“Oh.”
Bending down, I scooped her up and held her close in the hip-hold I remembered my mother carrying me around in and went for the door. Baby on one side, baseball bat on the other.
“Come one, little one. Let's teach you a valuable lesson about consequences.”
Chapter Seventeen - Morgan
It was an absurd amount of fun. I went for the camera by the door first. Making sure to give it the finger first, I swung high and hard, knocking it clean off the base and onto the floor. I swung down several more times, reducing the camera to an ovule of splintered plastic.
As I turned in search of another victim, Astrid came in behind me and made for the kitchen. Her technique was a bit different. Knocking the camera off the wall with the bat, she lay into it with her boots, crushing it even more than I had managed to.
“Leave some for me,” I heard a familiar voice call out.
“Adam!” I exclaimed, hugging the side that wasn't holding Freya, giving them both an enthusiastic kiss.
Setting Freya up in the living room of the main part of the house with a servant to watch over her, we continued on our path of destruction, knocking out every camera and microphone we could find. A great sense of catharsis came with every pile of deconstructed plastic left in our wake.
Freya cheered us on from her spot in the living room whenever she could see or hear us. It felt nice to finally find an activity we could all do together.
It was what she had wanted. I had actually asked Freya if she wanted to go home or with me and Adam and she had said home. As it was said, so it was done. Adam arranged the jet to pick us up in the morning and Shonna to drive us back to the apartment.
Astrid seemed happy to be going home too, even if it was my home, at least for a while. We were basically sisters anyway, so it really didn't make much of a difference.
The plane wasn't quite big enough. It was fine for short range, but didn't have the fuel capacity for intercontinental. That required something a bit bigger. If it also happened to have flight attendants with awesome accents and first class seating, that was even better.
The airline's name was even fun to say. It sounded like a kind of song or possibly a sex act. Aer Lingus. Every time I thought of it, I smiled a bit. No wonder the Irish tended to sound so upbeat.
Adam had thought we could use a break. To get away from all the trouble and the drama for a while. He would be returning to his island after it had been cleansed of all evil influence.
I wasn't sure if I would, but I did like the sex swing and the cave was really cool. I really wouldn't know until
I tried to go there again to see how it felt, post-filming. In the meantime, he wanted to take me to the island where he was born, which was isolated and safe to visit during the pandemic. But first, I was going to spend some time with my daughter and friend at home.
***
Two days later, the driver who arrived to pick me up had the same look of Shonna. Not in terms of physical appearance, but the same bulletproof stare, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark victors. What looked like a scar left from a passing bullet marked her left cheek.
“I.R.A.?” I asked Adam, who was already in the back seat.
“Garda, decommissioned,” he replied.
“Sir,” the driver said as we approached, the 'r' tumbling down a hill.
I was mesmerized. Her pale skin seemed to nearly glow under the fluorescent lighting. Her fire red hair was tied back in a severe bun. She held a sign reading LEARY in her hands.
“At ease, Imogen.”
She relaxed, if only a bit, and led the way out front to the sleek black limo. As we went, I noticed an odd sort of lump under her jacket at her waist. I didn't know much about such things, but I still knew a waist holster when I saw one. I didn't know exactly how it happened, but I realized that wanting to be surrounded by highly armed guards was just part of Adam's personality and something I would have to get used to.
Squeezed together on the back-facing seat, the window to the front firmly closed, we snuggled and kissed. It was wonderful. I was almost convinced that it was a dream. Only the clear, lush vividness of the Irish countryside rolling past the tinted windows told me it wasn't. I had never been to Ireland and it was far too beautiful to be made up.
“Master?”
“Yes, my pet?”
“Can we open a window?”
The window looking out over the valley rolled all the way down. Before Adam could stop me, I was hanging halfway out of the window, down to my belly. Turing to take in everything around me as it went by, Adam held onto my hips from within the car. Finally, he pulled me back in, the window whirring back into position.
“I am going to have to push you for that,” Adam said, giving me a squeeze.
“Oh, please do!” I enthused, remembering what his last 'punishment' had been like.
The road seemed interminably long and oddly steep. Rolling hills passed by on either side of us. I expected fairies to start flying around the car at any moment.
The house, a stone structure jutting up into a thatched roof, matched the surroundings. I dearly hoped that there would be a stone fireplace. I had always wanted to fuck in front of a stone fireplace.
“I'll call when I need you,” Adam said to Imogen, giving her what looked like a lot of money.
I wasn’t sure how much, though, because I didn't even understand the American exchange rate, let alone the Euro.
“Sir.”
The long car moved gracefully back down the hill. Adam watched it until it disappeared around a corner, as if he expected to go off the road at any moment.
Satisfied with Imogen's safe return to the highway, he turned to me. Pulling me over his shoulder, he held me down with one hand while picking up our luggage with the other and headed for the cottage, opening the door with a firm kick to the handle.
I loved it. It had been a while, and I was happy that my master decided to tie me up again. My wrists already behind my back, bound with silky rope, Adam was working on my legs. My legs were crossed at the ankles to keep them open. I would have asked how it was going, but the ball-gag made it difficult. If it was meant to be part of my punishment, I didn't mind at all.
The strike was hard and sudden. My body would have jerked if I'd had the room. I yelped, the sound muffled by the gag, a bright sting radiating in my ass.
There was another, similar strike on the other cheek with very much the same result. I could just imagine it. Big, crimson handprints raising on my skin. Adam's mark. Somehow, this made it easier to take.
He struck a few more times, the tears beginning to well in my eyes, when it stopped as suddenly as it began. His hands, once tools of pain, turned to caress my burning ass. They continued stroking and squeezing until I hummed with pleasure.
Keeping a hand on my back, he stroked me tenderly as he worked my pussy to five near-orgasms in a row with his other hand. Not until I was on the edge of a breakdown did he finally, mercifully, let me cum.
The resulting orgasm was so strong it was a struggle to keep consciousness, but I didn't want to stop yet. He cleaned me off and kissed me on the cheek. I figured my punishment for wanting to run off and stop the show was then at an end.
Letting me recover, my master started again. His hand was up to the second knuckle until I realized just how far he was planning to go. Taking a breath through my nose, I did my best to relax for him.
His hand slipped in with little trouble and before I knew it, I was screaming quietly, and thrashing around as much as I could, as squalls of pleasure tossed me about in their mighty current. I struggled to stay focused, lest I drown.
When I had come down from my high, Adam was still kissing me. He put me into the bed, with another tray of tea beside it. I was a bit disappointed I couldn't last longer for him but also very satisfied and sure we would do it again.
“Morgan?”
I turned from pouring myself some tea, to see Adam by the bed. He had his serious face on and was down on one knee. I was just about to ask what the heck he was doing there when he brought the small, velvet covered box from behind his back.
“Oh!”
“Morgan LaFey. I said I cared about you but I meant I loved you. I would do anything for you, give up anything to be with you. Will you do me the profound honor of being my wife?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, so happy I could die. “Yes, of course! I love you, too. Always and forever.”
Epilogue - Morgan
The wedding was in autumn. Spring was, of course, the cliche, but both Freya and I had wicked hay fever and I did not want to be sneezing as I walked down the aisle.
It also gave me the opportunity to wear my great-grandmother's wedding dress, a long-sleeved Victorian thing with about four levels of skirting especially designed to conceal the bride's assets until the honeymoon.
For some reason I really believed that a bit of modesty was in order on my wedding day. It also worked wonders hiding my baby bump.
My parents hadn’t liked the idea of me being on the TV show or marrying an older man but they had eventually come around to it. Hence my being allowed to wear this dress. I nodded at them as they were seated in the audience, and they beamed at me proudly.
The organist wasn't able to get his instrument out into the grove and Adam refused to go anywhere near a church, so we had to settle for an accordionist. It was untraditional, for sure, but definitely got points for originality. As did the tune the musician played. Unfamiliar with the Wedding March, he argued, quite strenuously, for the Imperial before compromising with “Ode to Joy.”
The vows were said, the cake was cut, the flower girl – Freya, of course – was hiding under the refreshment table making friends with the local snake population, and we all tucked into the royal banquet Adam had paid top dollar for.
Except for my walk up the aisle, he never left my side. His was hand on some part of my anatomy. I was his and we both knew it.
There were cameras there, of course. I thought for sure Adam had burned the whole thing to the ground with his hack attack, but my master was a lot smarter than that. It was really just a matter of waiting for Murdoch to go to prison for his fraud and then sending a carefully edited season’s worth of episodes directly to Sara, along with a bank transfer for all the cameras we smashed. I actually gasped when he told me the amount.
Who Wants to Lock Down a Billionaire? turned out to be a surprise hit during the pandemic, an even bigger sensation than anyone working on it could have anticipated. Sometimes I watched episodes online, although I tried to avoid the comments, which were full of jealousy.
However, there was one from someone named Dallas, who said that she had known of Adam’s “skills” back in the day and that I was a lucky girl to have won not only his choice of girls to quarantine with, but also his heart. For that one, I was the one who had become a bit jealous.
When I asked him about it, he said she had indeed been a “pet” of his in the distant past, but that all of that was over now. Not only had I been his choice for the show, but also for life. I had locked down his heart and there was no going back to his old ways.
It was true that he and I had a very special bond indeed. And I was glad that now that the pandemic had ended due to a safe vaccine, that we could celebrate our love with everyone.
Speeches were made, but I didn’t hear them. I was too busy keeping Freya away from her new friends and basically blinded by love for Adam. It took Astrid actually tapping me on the shoulder for me to notice even her.
“You were right,” she said.
“Always a good way to start,” I teased.
“I’m serious! You were right about - things. I’m glad you followed your heart and not just because this cake borders on a religious experience.”
“That’s pretty much what I said the first time I had it,” Adam said.
“You’re cool, Adam. Take care of her, yeah?”
“That’s high praise, you know,” I said, nudging Adam.
“I figured, yeah.”
Soon, it all faded away, as did where we were. The private jet took us where we both wanted to be. The island looked different as we approached. Not worse, but slightly less impressive. I guess you really could get used to anything, even a private island paradise, with enough exposure.
The plane touched down gently. The pilot was an honorably discharged RAF pilot, and rolled to a halt.
The car was already parked by the airstrip as we went down the stairs. Adam was in the front. I was pretty sure he would have carried me down, were it possible. I was somewhat surprised to see Imogen get out of the driver's side and stand her post by the back door.
“She needed a break, so I asked if she wanted a job,” Adam said.