Chapter Text
I stood staring at the milk in the cheap grocery store near home. I’d noticed the fliers cropping up around town, even here near the slums, with the reward number going up every week. Still, putting missing kids on milk cartons was old hat. I almost didn’t get it, even though I promised her a treat, but then I thought it’d be a good test.
Cash only at the checkout. The pasty girl at the counter growled at me like a feral wolf when I jokingly asked if she could break a Kilo. Then she seemed to shudder and mumble about a ‘kid sister.’ I chuckled a little but she gave me the evil eye and I decided I wasn’t funny. Over-analyzing the interaction on the way home I think I remembered seeing her a couple times before on the street, minus the store vest, skulking around a few alleys; probably looking for marks to shakedown. This part of Sweet Jazz though there’s too much competition and too little to go around. The ones too scared to go to the nice parts of town have to go semi-legit to make ends meet. What a shame.
I was under no such misfortune though. With the nest egg I had saved up with my little venture I could take a six month vacation and not feel a dent. If I didn’t end up in the hospital at least. Hell, I could even move to one of those nice parts of town! I perished that thought when I crossed the street to avoid getting between the drunk and the junkie getting ready to fight over who gets to pass out on that part of the sidewalk. How could I leave this atmosphere? The rent is just simply too good, the landlords and the neighbors mind their own business, and you can pee anywhere you like if you don’t make eye contact with anyone.
I made it to my building, glanced around, then circled the block three more times. Police patrols got scarce here after the first two weeks but, now and then a couple still show up to see if they missed any glowing footprints leading to their target. They weren’t much to worry about if you looked at them with mild indifference as they passed you. The more worrying matter was the rumor that a couple of the Roughhouses had taken interest in finding my charge.
THEY were a lot smarter and dangerous than most cops. And while their family is mostly psychos and street thugs they were still in the know with enough criminal elements to at least hear rumors about how girls ended up ‘special guests’ for my little shows to think that might be where she ended up. If they caught wind of where this was all going down I’d be strung up from a lamp post with my junk shoved down my throat within a day.
With the third loop done and not a shock of pink or green in sight I slipped into the door to the stairwell and headed for my floor. Top floor, all to myself and my little lamb. I think the land lord lived there at one point but she moved to the top floor of the second building she bought at a fire sale when its original owner OD’d in its parking lot. She decided she was fancy enough to move on up to a building with it’s own parking lot and let me rent her old floor for an elevated price. Two bedrooms, full kitchen, and a bathroom with the hot water tank in a closet instead of right next to the toilet. Luxury.
I stopped at the door and listened for any other footsteps in the stairwell. Knowing I was alone I punched in the pin for the magnetic lock I’d installed and walked inside. I didn’t live in squalor but when it wasn’t for business I did stay spartan as I could. My excesses were mostly on security until recently. Soundproofing, privacy windows, a heavy door, and my little magnetic lock. None of it would mean anything if I was caught but, it let me ‘feel’ safe. And it kept my favorite prize safe too.
“Phoenica, I’m home.” I half shouted down the foyer. I heard a happy little gasp, the sound of her sliding off the mattress, and the tinkling of bells from the bedroom. I smiled gently as she came into sight and my heart melted. The bar bound at each end around her ankles kept her legs spread apart, making her shuffle awkwardly to avoid tripping. The tops of her thigh high blue socks were nearly soaked from the moisture running down her legs. Her thighs trembled slightly from the bullet vibrator taped to her clit and my eyes lingered at her bare crotch. I closed my eyes a moment, the memory of her taste and scent precious even when I experienced it every day. I scanned past her flat stomach to her breasts, swollen slightly by puberty, then locked eyes with her as she smiled almost adoringly at me. She was beautiful.
“Master!” she greeted me. I knew she’d open her arms to hug me if I hadn’t left them bound behind her back. “Did you have fun on your walk to the store?” I smiled a little wider. “Probably not as much as you’ve had.” I said. Phoenica pouted a little, showing her age, “You barely let me have any fun while you were gone!” I chuckled a little as I reached up to the caddy on the wall I had mounted just out of her reach. Even though she was almost five foot four I was nearly six foot and still had long enough arms to put anything I fancied out of her reach. Like the remote to her vibrator.
“I didn’t want you to get dehydrated in case I took too long to come back,” I said. Perhaps it was a little crueler than necessary to leave the setting on low but I wanted her to have energy for a full session tonight. Multiple orgasms in the hour I was gone would not be conducive to that. I slipped the remote from the caddy and began to turn it down to 0. Phoenica looked at me expectantly. I then clicked it fully to 10. The sudden intensity made her cry out, her legs twitching as she pitched forward awkwardly and face planted into the floor. It was routine to do this when I had her bound up but it never got old.
I clicked it off as she turned on her side and started curl in on herself. I placed the remote gingerly back where it belonged and dropped my groceries. I took two big steps and bent down to scoop her up in my arms and carried her bridal style back to the bedroom. She was still panting from the aftershock of her long denied orgasm as I laid her on her back, holding her locked legs splayed in the air. Briefly taking note of the wet spot left on the corner where she had seemed to try rubbing one out, I shifted her to the dry center and fished out the key for her binds. I undid her legs, as they fell she closed them together and rolled on her side, to get the stiffness out I’m sure. I undid her padded cuffs while they were facing me and she pulled her arms in front of her, sighing as she rubber her wrists. I sat down on the edge of the bed, making sure I shifted away from sitting on her long, luxurious, hair. I placed my hand gently on her hip, my thumb against her butt. I still felt a mild tremor through and decided I should let her rest. Still, my love was uncontrollable, so I squeezed slightly, spreading her one cheek enough to expose her butt hole and pussy; then I quickly swiped two fingers between her folds, making her let out a quick “Eep!” before I let go and placed my slightly moistened fingers into my mouth.
The sweet yet acidic taste filled my heart so much I thought I could die of happiness right then. I savored it only a moment. Then left her to recover herself while I recovered my spilled groceries from the hall. I ensured I had it all picked up: carton of milk, head of broccoli, three cans of soup, two boxes of mac & cheese, and a couple pieces of pork ribs that would spoil if I didn’t cook them tonight. I stared at the side of the milk carton. Phoenica’s smiling face staring back at me. The words “MISSING HEIR TO FLEECITY LINEAGE REWARD $50 MILLION” in big print below, taking up an entire side of the carton. They started using the word million on the fliers too when the zeros made them too long. I’d have made the font smaller myself but I suppose people do get confused by bigger numbers.
I heading into the kitchen and put everything but the milk away. I pulled my ice cube tray out of the freezer and sat the milk on it. It was still cool and I wanted to keep it that way while I stared at it and considered my lot in life.
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I’d grown up just over the poverty line: neglected, bullied, and a mundy dork. By the time I reached my twenties I’d learned enough tech know how and street smarts to figure out how to get things on and from the internet without people finding out who you were and what kind of under served markets in the illegal online community I could make money from. A used utility van, chloroform, a digital camera, and an abandoned warehouse by the docks was all I needed to break in. Pick a kid off the street, watch them a few days to learn the pattern (and if they had a dangerous epithet), then when they wandered off the beaten path, snag’em, take’m to the warehouse, strip’em, photoshoot, and dump them off somewhere before they even wake up.
Scrub the info off the pics then sell them piecemeal on the unlisted forums to the freaks who like that kinda thing. At first I’d justify it to myself saying “I’m not hurting these kids, most of them will never know it happened” but, eventually I just accepted I was a monster just like my customers. So when they started asking for ‘harder” stuff for even more money, I decided I’d cross that bridge too. Wouldn’t do it to every kid, just the ones who looked like the kinda girls I liked when I was in school. And some of the ones who would’ve never gave me the time of day in middle school. No real penetration though. Too risky. Just the ol’ ‘sleepover prank’ and ‘hot glue.’
By the time I was twenty-two I was making enough money to consistently keep a roof over my head, food in my gut, and video games in my hands, so I was content. Guess I got to big for my britches though. I thought I was careful enough no one could figure me out but I suppose I wasn’t. One day I tailed a kid into an alleyway and instead of grabbing my paycheck for the next week I got black bagged and beaten over the head. When I woke up I was in a dark room with a light in my face and a couple shadowy figures around me. I thought I was either dead or going to prison for the rest of my life so I just started bawling. I barely heard the guy talking to me or even remember what he said. Something about me ‘flooding the market’ or ‘devaluing product.’ I was stepping on somebody’s toes.
I guess they still liked that I was good at it though. So instead of slitting my throat and dumping me in the bay I ended up with a sponsor. I sell my stuff to them and they’ll sell it on for their own profit. I don’t know who it is and I like that way. I do my work, I make money, and float in an ocean of ignorant bliss. Plus the lump sum I get paid every dump is more than I got selling it myself. And that’s been a sweet gig for the last two years.
This one though, might be the end of me. I spotted her walking alone near the beach streets one day. Well, skipping actually. It was what brought her to my attention. Glancing at her I thought she was a high schooler doing some inversion of gothic lolita fashion, all pink instead of black. But the way she bobbed her head back and forth as she skipped along compelled me. So I stalked along in the background as she went. I was sure she was in my ‘demographic’ when she met up with her friends. The little black one with the fro and the scrappy kid in the purple hoodie. She towered over them but didn’t seem to carry any kind of haughtiness about her. I had thought she looked familiar at the time but dismissed it. All the blonde cuties look a bit the same after awhile.
I never followed any of my ‘stars’ all the way home. People notice when a stranger or a strange vehicle enters a neighborhood. If I had I might’ve thought better for this one. None the less, I stalked her through the public parts of the city. She didn’t stay alone for very long often so I had to be damn sure I’d have at least a two hour gap between her leaving her friends after school and going home. I had my chance in mid October.
She was at the beach again with her friends, early evening. I had parked in an alley on the city side of the street across where they met up by the ocean. I hung out of sight, but downwind, near some old rocks dredged up and then abandoned by the city. The trio were huddled together when one of their phones rang. The brown one fished her phone out, and as she answered, the pink haired one pulled her phone out too. They both started talking, to their phones, then each other both acting more bewildered and frustrated. A few snippets drifted downwind. “No, Boss. Rick’s wrong,” “Giovanni’s an idiot!” It meant nothing to me. The blonde just kept looking back and forth between them.
After a few minutes they both hung up. They seemed to exchange apologies then the short ones ran off, leaving the beanpole alone. I figured this was my best shot. I soaked a rag with a bottle of chloroform from my coat pocket and then I casually followed the blonde as she slowly made her way back up to the road. I closed the gap between us as she stood checking both ways at the street and I had her. She didn’t even struggle and seemed to pass out instantly with the rag over her mouth. I did a glance around for witnesses, saw none, slung her over one shoulder and trotted across the road to the van.
I was heading to the usual spot, five below the speed limit as always, when I heard a little yawn from the back. “Oh!” she exclaimed as she glanced around, “Did I fall asleep? Are you giving me a ride home mister?” Panic flash-froze my heart. ‘Shitshitshit,’ I thought. I had never had a victim wake up. I never faced a single one of them and I had no idea what to do. ‘Should I lie, should I dump her off here, should I kill her?’
“Sir?” she asked, clamoring up to between the front seats. ‘Fuck she’s seen my face now!’ I almost started to hyperventilate. I turned away slightly and pulled my shirt collar up over my nose and tried to pass it off as coughing. “Are you okay, sir?” she asked sounding genuinely concerned. “Yeah!,” accidentally shouted, “just uh...got a cold. Don’t wanna spread it.” She shirked back from between the seats and sat on her knees in the floor. “Oh, that’s very considerate!” she said sweetly, “And giving me a ride home as well! You’re such a kind soul…” “Yeah,” I answered, “No problem.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed again, “But you don’t know where I live, do you? I don’t think I know you…” ‘Damn it!’ I gripped the steering wheel, worried she might start screaming stranger danger any second. “I uh...uah…” I started to stammer. She suddenly gasped “Do you have a ‘wayfinding’ epithet?” she asked excitedly. ‘I’ll take it.’ “Yes!” answered quickly. “My epithet let me know where you live when I picked you up. Off the ground. Where I found you asleep.”
“Oh wow!” she said in apparent amazement and clapped her hands. ‘Oh thank the stars, she’s as sharp as a sack of wet mice…’ “You’re so lucky to have an epithet, sir!” I glanced back at her for a moment. She had a finger to her chin and seemed to be deep in thought. “Say,” she said after a few seconds, “since you know where I live you must know my family’s legacy! I’m trying to put together a team of magical girls and…” Hey, kid” I interrupted her, “it’s hard for me to concentrate while driving. Why don’t you go sit in the back and don’t talk to me until we get there, please?”
“Oh okay,” she said happily and scurried into the back and began to quietly hum to herself. I started to relax a little. ‘Just gotta get to the warehouse first, then I can figure this out.’ I adjusted my pointless rear view mirror (I don’t why the previous owner had installed one but I never bothered to take it out) and looked at her through it. She was dimly lit by the sunset as smiled pleasantly, her legs drawn up beside her, as she bobbed her head to the tune she was humming. Then she reaching into her dress pocket and pulled out what could spell my doom. A cellphone. Before she even clicked on the screen I cleared my throat loudly. She jumped a little and stared towards the front of the van.
“If uh, you have a cell phone,” I said coming up with a lie “turn it off please. It interferes with my epithet ability.” “Oh of course,” she said almost apologetically. Her screen light up and then went out. I sighed in relief then I saw her reach into her pocket again and flash what looked like a fan of cell phones. “Should I turn all of my phones off?” she asked genuinely. “Y-yes, please,” I stammered. She proceeded to go through each phone, shutting them off one by one. I knew it wouldn’t disable any kind of tracking but at least she wouldn’t be telling anyone where she was.
Shortly after, we pulled up to the warehouse. “I’ll let you out from the back doors” I said to her as I got out. “Okay!” she yelled happily as I shut my door. I took the rag from my pocket and poured chloroform in it until it was soaked. I figured since she was kinda stupid I could dose her out with chloroform again, just keep it over her nose longer, get some pics, and dump her in town again. Even if she did get a good look at me she’d probably think it was all a dream. Plan set, I opened the doors. She smiled at me then glanced around confused. Before she could say anything I pushed the rag in her face and she was out.
I held it there as hoisted her up bridal style, shouldering the doors shut and trotting over to the side entrance of the building. The place was abandoned decades ago, I think. Whatever company originally used it shutdown and then it changed hands from one conglomerate to another, never seeing proper use again. I had a little studio set up in the back behind some containers. Just a long white sheet tacked on the wall & floor, a couple cushions if I had to be on my knees, a chair to prop my models on, and a tripod for my camera. Only time I’d ever cleared it out was when I heard the latest buyer, STEM, was actually inspecting the shit holes they bought up. I pulled everything out for a few weeks, watched it from a distance to see the nerd that owned it come and go, then moved back in once I was sure they weren’t coming back.
I carried blondey back to the studio and laid her out on the sheet. I left the rag over her nose for the time being. Shouldn’t kill her for a few hours. I pulled the tripod out and had attached my camera, getting ready to put in position for a couple sleeping shots when I heard her yawn again. I whipped around, shock plain on my face as she sat up, the rag falling into her lap, and stretched. She look at the rag puzzled, picked it up, sniffed it, made a face, then tossed it aside. She glanced around, her face twisting into confusion again. I think in that moment I realized just how cute she really was.
“This isn’t my house,” she said, “or even my neighborhood. What’s going on mister?” She looked at me and cocked her head to the side. Then she gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. I stared at her dumbfounded as she lowered her hands to her chest and asked me, with tears seeming to form in her eyes, “Oh, did I forget to turn one of my phones off? Did I mess up your wayfinding epithet mister?”
“What?!” was all I could say as her bottom lip quivered. “I’m really sorry, sir!” she cried as tears started to flow down her cheeks. I was completely at a loss. That day was quickly turning into a disaster and I’d gone so long without a hitch I had no real contingency in place. Fear and confusion wrestled for domination of my mind and the only full sentence that surfaced came out of my mouth: “Are you immune to chloroform?”
The question seemed to shock her out of her tears. She wiped her eyes with her sleeved then stared at me, looking as confused as I felt. “Chloroform?” she asked, then seemed lost in thought for a second. “Oh, CHCI3!” she said excitedly, “I don’t know if I’m immune to it but when we experimented with it in science class my teacher remarked how little it affected me when Trixie tested it on me! She said I was an ‘anomaly.’”
“Uh, huh,” was the only response I could muster. There was something off about this kid. She was dumb as a rock but knew chemistry off the top of her head. I was considering strangling her when she spoke up again. “I never introduced myself to you sir!” she said exciting and hopped up on her feet. She marched right up to me, tucking her hands together in front of her, and said, “My name is Phoenica Fleecity XV of The Fleecity lineage! It’s pleasure to meet you!” and curtsied.
My eyes widened another ten centimeters. Phoenica Fleecity. That’s why she looked familiar. I’d heard of the Fleecitys in history class growing up. Apocalypse saviors. One of them died in a car wreck not that long ago, now this kid was the last. That grounded me back to the matter at hand. She was famous, people would look for her if she was gone. But since she was famous she was also lusted after by my clientele. I’d seen the creeps on forums discussing her as “beautiful,” “ephemeral,” and the more honest ones calling her “a hot piece of ass.” Anything of her could be a big payday from my sponsor. I may lead a frugal life but I still hoped to retire one day. My little nest egg could balloon off this kid and I’d get to disappear to Island Country before I was fifty.
I cleared my throat. “Likewise, Phoenica,” I answered, formulating half a plan. “So,” I started to lie, “it seems my epithet wasn’t thrown off just by your phones.” I fished around my pockets as I continued, “sometimes other factors can throw it off. Like if the person I’m using for it can see where we’re going.”
I pulled out a personal item of mine, a black sleep mask I sometimes used to nap in the van during my excursions and the sun or streetlights bothered me. “Now, what I’m going to ask might seem strange but it’ll help me calibrate and get you home safe.” “Okay!” she said happily, trusting me completely.
“Put this mask over your eyes. Make sure you can’t see anything. Then I’ll put on a blindfold as well.” Phoenica smiled and slip the mask over her head, the little bells on her head tinging as she did. “OK, now,” I grabbed her by the shoulders spun her towards the sheet, “I’m going to walk you forward to a specific spot, stand where I leave you and follow my directions while I circle you.”
“Yes sir!” she said dutifully and marched forward as I maneuvered her to stand in the center of the canvas. I trotted back and grabbed my camera of the tripod. Moving around with it might trip me up and I couldn’t risk knocking her over and the blinder coming off. “Okay Phoenica, I’m going to put on my blindfold now and I’ll start to circle you. You might hear some noises but it is imperative you DO NOT LOOK,” I said emphatically. She nodded and made a serious line with her mouth.
I snapped my first photo of her standing before me. The flash went off in her face but she made no reaction. She was as blind as a cave fish. I circled and took one from each side. After this I said, “Some clothes can interfere too. Take off your socks and shoes.” She nodded and pushed both her shoes off toe to heal. She awkwardly stood on one foot to help remove her thigh high socks. I snapped a pic of her exposing her thigh but her skirt was too ruffled to see anything else. After this I said “Stand on one foot and hold your arms in a shape like a capital L.”
Without a question she did just that. Her arms didn’t matter, I just needed a couple shots of her bare foot for the freaks who were into that. (May seem hypocritical to cast stones in my business but, you gotta have some standards.) After that I made the boldest move I could. “Lower your limbs. Something’s still off. I think something about your dress is throwing it off. Remove it.”
At this, Phoenica gasped in shock. “I-I can’t do that mister!” she stammered, “It’s too improper!” I was ready for the objection. “I’m blindfolded too, Phoenica” I lied, “I won’t see you. It’s the only interference left and then I can get you home.” Phoenica nodded, determined again. “Okay.” I held my breath as she reached up to her neck and unbuttoned the collar. I switched my camera to burst mode and fired away as she undid each button down her chest, loosened her ribbon and slid her shoulders out of the top of her dress. I bit my tongue to stop myself from gasping as her her bare chest was displayed. I’d expected an undershirt or training bra but it seemed her dress was comfortable enough to not need it.
She seemed make an adjustment around her waist and then let the dress fall down to her ankles. She stood with her hands out beside her hips in only a pair of light blue panties with pink lace trim around the legs and waist band, a white lace skirting from the waist band, and a light blue ribbon on the front. I circled again to catch her from every angle, her budding breast exposed and a pair of panties that probably cost more than my van. I couldn’t get a shot of her butt because of how her hair hung but I dared not push my luck. I swallowed the saliva that had nearly filled my mouth.
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound as casual as I could. “I got it Phoenica. You can put your clothes back on. I’ll look away.” I slipped my camera in my pocket and kept my word as I stared off into the shadows of the warehouse. To the right buyers, these pictures would be worth millions. I had considered leaving my sponsor out of it but then I imagined a straight razor across my throat and jumped as Phoenica tugged on my sleeve. She looked up at me with no malice, completely trusting and unaware of how her innocence was violated.
“Ready to go?” I asked, smiling as sincerely as I could. She nodded but then said, “Just one question: what’s your name sir?” I didn’t dare say it. I couldn’t even think of a fake one. “Ahh, my name’s not important,” I answered. She nodded and said “Well, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Important.” I let out a quick “hah,” and headed for the door. I heard her skipping behind me, the bells in her hair tinkling again.