| Keywords: MF, MFF, Mult, violent, slow Part: 3 of 8 Author: Knave of Hearts
Title: Grim Fairy Tales
Chapter 10: The Sacrifice That same day, Bobby chaired the first meeting
of the Eastern Shore Commission. The media cameras flashed and whirred as
they captured the charismatic Bobby. His was immaculately combed
and his smile firmly in place as he introduced the Commission's members.
He looked straight into the cameras, his eyes flashing with passion, as he
made an impassioned plea for unity and a peaceful resolution to the
Bobby's fashionable white suit had been calculated to clash with the
somber brown and black military and police uniforms that surrounded him.
His staff had made sure that he would be seen as leading the Commission
with diplomatic style and personal charisma. One of the subtle touches
that made this image stick in the minds of the television audience was the
seating arrangement. Bobby sat in the middle of the table, rather than at
the end where he might be seen as aloof. To his left sat Major General
Arthur Manlius, commander of the joint task force that combined the
military forces provided by the Federal and State governments. Bobby was
very pleased with himself. The general's age and sour looks would
emphasize his youthful, energetic appearance, he thought. Manlius, for his
part, was less than pleased to be sitting so close to Bobby. The thinly
disguised look of disgust on his face caused one of the military staff
officers to ask if the politician had farted.
Bobby's speech had focused on peaceful appeasement of the Shoremen's
demands, mentioned concessions that each side could make, and had
completely disregarded any use of military force. Having consistently
refused to meet with the military staff, Bobby's Chief of Staff, Stuart
Lee, had informed the general that his troops would see little action. The
general had expressed his frustration with the pace of the political
solution, but Stuart had told him that the military's role would be to
"safeguard and monitor" while the solution was "resolved through political
channels." The general, having seen plenty of duty in peacekeeping
missions, knew that this meant that his troops would be forced into long,
boring hours of guard duty, punctuated by isolated guerrilla attacks and
"We hope that we can reach a position of mutual appeasement through calm
and deliberate discussion rather than through the blunt instrument of JTF
Phalanx's military power," Bobby grandly announced.
Manlius' face could have been carved from stone for all the emotion it
showed. "At least the circus is over," he thought.
Bobby's carefully staged media event completed; the cameras were quickly
ushered from the room. Once the media had left, Bobby dismissed the
meeting with a broad smile on his face and quickly left the table. Major
General Manlius pushed his way through the crowd and stopped Bobby at the
door and asked once again for a meeting with the military staff. With
thinly veiled contempt, Bobby brushed the general off and left the room.
Stuart quickly intercepted the seething officer and started to smooth
things over. The same age as the general, Stuart was a smooth operator, a
veteran of political snake pits all over the East Coast. Quickly steering
the general into a quiet corner, Stuart told Manlius that Bobby had asked
for closer coordination with the military but that he didn't have the time
to devote to meetings and staff briefings. Stuart suggested that a staff
officer be nominated as Bobby's personal liaison.
Stuart leaned closer to the general, as if taking him into his
confidence. "Mr. Tyler realizes that this issue may have to be solved
militarily. He just doesn't want to tip his hand too soon."
"But he's sent the last three liaison officers back without even meeting
"General, please understand that Mr. Tyler's staff is a tight team.
Not unlike your own staff, I might say." Stuart smiled and nodded
knowingly. "Let me help you. I could, with your permission of course,
select an officer to join our staff. This person would work for you, but
at the political headquarters. We both win."
Manlius realized that he had reached a political stalemate. Either he
let Stuart pick an officer or the door to Bobby Tyler would remain closed.
Beaten for the moment, he agreed. "Just let me know who you want by
Thursday. I'll be in touch."
-=)0(= The plane carrying Simon taxied directly into a hanger on the
edge of one of Norfolk's military airfields. A staff car whisked Simon
from the hanger straight to the JTF HQ, it's darkly tinted windows
prevented passersby from identifying the car's passengers. Escorted into
Major General Manlius' office by a pair of military policemen, Simon was
introduced to the general and his Executive Officer. Leaving Simon
standing in the middle of the room, the XO told him that he had been
selected for a vital but dangerous mission. The general, enthroned behind
his expansive and meticulously arranged mahogany desk, emphasized Simon's
computer experience as the reason he had been selected.
When Simon asked what the mission was about, the XO turned on the and
showed him the on-going media analysis of the Eastern Shore Commission
meeting. Turning down the sound with a remote, the General settled back
into his leather wingback chair and spoke as if making a speech to the
"The farmers on the Eastern Shore have thumbed their noses at authority
for the last few years. When the President designated an area for a Potter
Town, a resettlement town, the Shoremen raided the local armories and
blockaded the peninsula. After three years of trying to negotiate, the
government has finally decided to deal with them. The only problem is that
the farmers have the Palladium. Have a seat Major Woodsman, Major Blue
will give us the G-2 on this."
Simon sat next to the XO as an Intelligence officer entered the room and
delivered a short briefing on the Palladium Area Defense Shield. This
radar and missile system was the reason that the Shoremen had been able to
hold out right under the noses of the Federal Government for almost three
Built as part of the Ballistic Missile Shield research project, a chain
of Palladium sites were intended to ring the nation and protect it from any
airborne threat - missiles, aircraft, anything. Each Palladium system
covered about 500 miles of coastline, which meant that the Shoremen could
stop aircraft from approaching not only their positions but also Norfolk,
Washington D.C., and Philadelphia.
Simon was impressed and wondered if the General was thinking that he
could hack the system for Norfolk. Manlius, obviously thinking the same
thing, asked the briefer why the system couldn't be disabled remotely and
was told that the control network was completely safeguarded. The only way
to talk to Palladium was from the inside.
Manlius turned to the XO, talking about Simon as if he weren't there.
"Give the major a quiet place to do his research. When we're ready we'll
move him closer to the action."
The XO slid Simon a folder and whispered that the invasion plan was to
establish a foothold on the Shore at Cape Charles, reopen the Bay Bridge
Tunnel on the southern tip of the peninsula, and bring the Eastern Shore
back under government control.
"We'll get you on the Shore, then you've got to do the rest. Disable
the Palladium and we'll finish the rebellion."
Figuring that he'd been dismissed, Simon stood, saluted, and left the
room with his escort. Weighing the folder in his hand, he needed a drink
and then a quiet place to do some serious studying.
Manlius set down the phone and addressed the next item of business, the
selection of the liaison officer for Bobby Tyler. He told the XO that
Stuart had selected one of the female National Guard officers, Madeline
Altarby. She was a good officer and was pleased with the new assignment.
Manlius mentioned that she was also exactly the type of woman that Bobby
liked - big boned and broad hipped. The two smiled, they both knew
what her real job would be on Bobby's staff but war meant making
sacrifices. With these preliminaries out of the way, it was time to get
down to business.
Simon was depressed. The XO's idea of a quiet place was a small, musty
smelling building on the edge of one of the many swamps that dotted the
area. The building was about as far from anything else on the base as
possible. Simon looked around the dusty room that he'd been given for an
office. 'Well at least I won't be bothered by visitors,' he thought. He
spun around as the rickety office door slammed open. Bobby Tyler and a
small entourage of staffers swept into the little room.
"Why Mr. Woodsman. So good to see you again." Bobby shook Simon's hand
and smiled broadly. "It's been a while since we saw each other in Swoope
Simon noticed that Bobby's smile stopped before reaching his eyes.
Simon made some non-committal remark and waited for Bobby's nature to sweep
the conversation along.
"Well I won't take up too much of your valuable time." Bobby released
Simon's hand and spoke over Bobby's head. "I just wanted to welcome you to
the team. Just let my staff know if there's anyway I can help you."
Without waiting for a response, Bobby flashed another smile and breezed out
of the room.
"So much for the general's security," Simon thought. If Bobby Tyler
knew that he was there, the little politician probably also knew why.
Unpacking the box of books that had been delivered for him to use, Simon
felt his stomach churn. "It's hard to know where the enemy is some times."
Paris came to Arabella's office to have lunch with her. He handed her
the disk he had recorded of them making love in his room and tried to
talk her into going away with him. She hesitated and muttered an excuse
about her job and Simon.
"Listen Arabella," he said, lightly holding her by her arms. "Granny
told me all about this guy. He's never around. He leaves you in all kinds
of dangerous places."
Arabella tried to think of something to say. Some way of defending
Simon. But nothing came to mind.
"I want you to come with me," Paris continued. "Come back home with me.
You don't have to make some huge commitment. Just come to my place and
hang out for a while. If this guy calls, you can hop the first thing
Arabella felt her will crumbling. She felt like she needed the break
and, since Simon wasn't around, she had no one to go home to.
"Well OK," she said. Paris smiled broadly. "But I've got to come back
after a few days. I've got a job here, you know."
Paris chuckled to himself but didn't say anything. He put his arm
around her and told her the travel arrangements. She was puzzled by all of
the secrecy but he told her that it was all just the type of normal
precautions that everyone took when traveling on the back roads.
Arabella finally agreed and returned to Paris' hotel that evening
carrying an overnight bag. Arabella sat her bag down as the valet brought
the car from the parking area.
"I didn't bring a lot," she said. Her voice sounded calmer than she
felt. "I really have to be back at work on Monday."
Paris shot Hank a knowing look as the settled behind the
driver's wheel. They drove along unlit, windy back roads eastward through
the mountains. It was almost midnight when the trio arrived at a fishing
village called Wakefield where they boarded an old, rusty working boat that
smelled strongly of fish. Arabella huddled in the bow cabin, chilled and
deafened by the roar of the engines.
Throughout the journey Arabella was infuriated with Simon but she
couldn't stop thinking about him. She knew she loved Simon but she was
tired of always playing second fiddle to his job. Maybe he'd come to his
senses after she'd been gone a while, she thought. In any case, Paris was
a lot of fun and she could use a change of scenery.
After about 3 hours, she noticed that Hank had cut the engines and was
trying to be as quiet as possible. When she went to the compartment door
to ask what was going on, Paris sharply told her to get back inside. They
lay silent, drifting with the tide for another 10 or 15 minutes before Hank
gave the big twin outboard motors some gas and they finally made their way
to the darkened harbor of Onancock. Arabella stretched, trying to work the
kinks out of her back, as she took her first look at the Eastern Shore in
the soft dawn light.
Paris led them through the dark humid night, softly greeting some
watermen as they walked toward their boats to start their day's labor.
They walked up to a large brick Colonial-style house and were warmly
welcomed by Paris' father, Jonas.
Jonas Mawbry looked like a tired, man. He'd been active and
energetic as the Northhampton County Supervisor before the Troubles but the
strain of the government's siege had aged him greatly. He greeted Arabella
sadly but was obviously more pleased to see Paris, who had apparently been
on a very important, very secret mission to bring back anti-tank missiles
in addition to seedlings. and son quickly went upstairs, leaving
Hank alone with Arabella in the living room.
After offering her a drink, Hank made a blunt offer. "Now that you're
here safe and sound, how about a little thank you fuck?"
Arabella was shocked. "I'm really tired, Hank." She tried to stall
until Paris came back downstairs. "You know, I thought that I would just
relax a little with Paris," she added his name for emphasis.
"Well that's OK." Hank pulled his black cock from his jeans and
jerked it absently while he talked to her. "I figure I can warm you up and
then you can do Paris. I don't think his daddy wants any, so you'll only
get to boff the two of us tonight."
Thinking that Hank might be capable of anything, even rape in his
friend's father's house, Arabella quickly put a large upholstered chair in
between herself and the still masturbating black man. He saw what she was
doing and circled around the living room, driving her into a corner where
he would trap her.
"Look Hank. I barely know you."
"You barely know any of us." His cock was getting harder. Hank's
nine-inch pole sprouted from his pants like a dark stalk.
"So why don't you tell me about yourself." She looked at the stairs.
Panic crept into her mind and she pushed down the urge to cry. "I've never
been over here to the Shore. What's there to do?"
"Kill Feds and fuck. Which one are you in the mood for, Red?"
Arabella ran for the stairs, Hank's coarse laughter ringing in her ears.
Paris and his met her at the top of the landing.
"Please. I'd like to go someplace and rest now."
Paris looked at her disdainfully but Jonas Mawbry said, "Take her down
to the beach house, Paris. She'll be safe and out of the way there." Paris
nodded his head in silent agreement. "You can visit her when you're not
working," Jonas continued.
Arabella thanked him but the merely looked at her with hollow
eyes. Paris told Hank to go take charge of some place called Oyster while
he took care of "Red."
Paris drove her south to the town of Exmore, explaining while they drove
that he was one of the two rebel commanders on the southern front. Turning
down a small tree lined road, they made their way to the beaches along the
Chesapeake Bay. At the last fork in the road, Arabella saw another road
heading through the fields. When she asked, Paris curtly told her not to
go down the road.
"It's something special, called Palladium. Stay away from there 'cause
the guards don't know you and their likely to shoot you before they find
out how good you are in bed."
Back in Norfolk, the JTF staff worked long into the night. The
Civil-Military Information Center hummed with activity as Bobby worked with
his press agents and the media to ensure that his name would be on the
headlines when the government finally chose to strike. After a long day at
work, Bobby invited Madeline to stay late and brief him on the military's
invasion plan. Madeline protested that the General or some other, more
senior, member of staff should give the briefing but Bobby turned on his
charm and told her that he wanted her to personally brief him. He would
get the General's version later.
Madeline quickly polished up Task Force Phalanx's stock briefing and
arrived at Bobby's hotel suite, excited at the prospect of being on the
personal staff of such an important, charismatic, and handsome man. Rather
than using the suite's large sitting room, she was shown into his bedroom.
Slightly puzzled, Madeline focused her attention to the information that
she'd brought with her and briefed Bobby on the invasion of Cape Charles.
While she nervously plowed through planning details and military jargon,
Bobby smiled indulgently.
By the time she'd finished, Madeline was sure that she'd either muddled
up everything or bored Bobby stiff. Instead, he took one of her hands and
clasped it between his.
"Thank you very much, Madeline. I can call you Madeline, can't I? I
think that this operation will require very close cooperation between us."
He looked directly into her eyes. Bobby smiled as he felt her pulse rate
"And after the invasion?"
He was pleased with her naiveté. "Well my name has been bandied about
for a Congressional district back in the Valley. I'll take my team with me
naturally. Of course I'll need a military advisor."
He smiled and moved closer to her, like a predator moving in for the
kill. Still holding on to Madeline's hand, Bobby slid one of his hands up
her arm, stopping at the elbow. His thumb pressed lightly against the
swell of her large, round breast. Madeline felt the heat of his hand and
flushed but she made no move to move away. Bobby stepped closer, trapping
her hand between their bodies, just inches from his crotch.
Still maintaining contact with the curve of her breast, Bobby slid his
hand farther up her arm and around the ball of her shoulder. Her lips
parted in anticipation. Bobby pulled her toward him. Their mouths met.
Madeline had expected a soft, lover's kiss but instead Bobby forced his
tongue into her mouth. He pressed her hand against the lump in his
trousers. Any hope she might have had of stopping his advances at a kiss
were dashed as she felt her lust rise.
Although his kiss had been rough and demanding, when Bobby led her to
the small bed, he undressed her carefully, as if he were unwrapping a
present. Madeline had always been self-conscious, feeling that she was a
bit too plump to be pretty, but Bobby seemed to like it as he played with
her large breasts.
"I like your tan lines, Miss Madeline." Bobby's soft Tidewater accent
made his compliment a rhyme as he pulled his lips from one of her engorged
nipples. His mouth laid a trail of kisses across her belly to the wiry
brown thatch that covered the area between her thighs.
"Will you let me shave you?" Surprised by his sudden request, she nodded
slowly in agreement. She knew that she would do anything to get his mouth
on her clit. "We'll save that for next time," he said as he returned his
attention to her snatch.
He smiled to himself as he tasted her. She was already soaking wet, her
hair glistening with juices. She gasped as his tongue traveled below her
pussy and lightly tickled the area between her and her ass.
"You know what that is don't you?" He asked as he came up for air.
"It's your taint."
"Your taint. 'Taint but it t'ain't asshole neither!"
She laughed at the saw but spread her legs wider. Bobby made
Madeline gasp again when his tongue flicked across her asshole. She was
unsure at first. Did he mean to do that? Wasn't it dirty down there?
Bobby did it again and then, using her copious juice as a
lubricant, inserted his finger into her tight anus. Madeline squirmed as
he moved his digit in and out of her virgin ass.
"Yessss baby." Bobby hissed from his position between her legs. "I'm
going to enjoy your snatch." He kissed her clit and on it hard,
making her gasp. "And we'll just have to loosen this other up before
you'll enjoy it there."
All Madeline could do was whimper. She felt as if he had some kind of
magical power over her, making her resolve disappear in a fog of desire.
Somehow she knew that she would never be able to deny him anything.
They had made love for what seemed to be hours. Lying in a pool of
sweat and cum, Madeline brushed the sweaty strings of hair out of her face
and tried to catch her breath. After raising her to unbelievable levels of
excitement with his tongue, Bobby had fucked her savagely, possessing her
body like a hurricane hammering a coastline. She'd been amazed at the
number of times and ways that he'd made her but she drifted off to
sleep, her raw and her nipples sore, with a satisfied smile on her
The next morning, Bobby slid silently from the bed. Walking to the
bathroom Bobby felt completely in control. Madeline still slept, curled
onto her side. He grinned as he saw the sodden mess they'd left in the
sheets. He'd ended up taking her anal cherry after all. He stepped into
the shower knowing that Madeline would not only give him access to all of
the military information he'd need, but she also promised to be quite a
satisfactory fuck toy.
Chapter 11: Lingering War Still dreading the consequences of Bobby's
visit, Simon unpacked his office and then drove back to the main base to
find a place to live. After receiving the usual bureaucratic runaround, he
finally found the right office and convinced then to assign him a room in
the in the "Q", a boarding house for the officers. The Q was an Victorian house that stood in a line with other gently decaying houses
along a small inlet. Simon found it's stodgy gentility completely at odds
with the reason he was there. Climbing the stairs, Simon inspected the
small room he'd been given and resignedly slung his gear into the closet
before going in search of a meal.
Standing on the Q's broad porch, it was hard to believe that he had been
warm and snug in his own bed in Staunton with Arabella less than a week
ago. But the world had turned on its head in those mere four days.
Although long distance phone calls were strictly monitored, Simon had
waited in line patiently for the chance to call and explain things to
Arabella. He knew that she would be angry about the terse email, but he
needed a chance to clarify the situation before the Government's goons made
any house calls. When he had finally been able to call home, had
been proud of the fact that she and her protégé had found "other company"
since he was gone.
Saffron had spared no detail of how big and virile this new partner was.
Listening to each lurid detail was like being stabbed with a hot poker.
The bottom line was that Arabella had left town with another man. No one
knew where she was or when she would be back. Trying to bury the
resentment and disappointment he felt, Simon stepped off the porch and
walked down the tree-lined street towards the temporary Officer's Club that
had taken over a small restaurant.
Simon ate dinner alone and then wandered into the bar. It was a loud
smoky place dominated by boisterous knots of people, everyone talking and
laughing too loud but still managing to be drowned out by the country music
blaring from the corner. A few tried to start conversations and his
experiences in Washington allowed him to blend in. Simon was amazed that
he had left the ruins of DC only six months ago. He noticed that the
club's clientele were mostly Army officers. The patches on their arms
revealing the presence of no less than three battle groups -
self-sustaining brigade sized forces. Had there been only one, or maybe
even just two groups, then JTF Phalanx might have been a demonstration of
force. But having three groups, a total of over 4,500 soldiers, showed the
nation that the government was through negotiating.
The loud, smoky atmosphere of the bar was full of people talking about
work or telling war and Simon quickly determined that he would be
happier some place else, so he returned to the Q. He noticed that a new
crowd of people had arrived while he ate. A group of Naval and
Marine officers sprawled on the porch with their drinks in hand, talking
loudly about their plans for the evening.
Although Simon introduced himself, his rank and the fact that he was
Army made him an immediate outsider. The newcomers all belonged to a
flotilla of small raiding boats that the government was using to blockade
the shallow waters of the Eastern Shore. Their commander, a tall, square
Marine named Alex Putnam, introduced himself and tried to strike up a
conversation, but the secret nature of Simon's mission kept the exchange
vague and general. Alex, tiring of the polite game and anxious to go out
for his first evening of liberty, soon excused himself.
Simon, glad to have been able to leave the party so politely, made his
way to the parlor of the Q and found a bottle of whiskey in the cabinet.
Settling down in a chair to enjoy some solitude, he had just finished his
first bourbon and was making notes in his hand held computer about his
ideas for the Palladium when a young, tan woman walked up and
claimed the chair next to his. Subconsciously he took in the various
patches on her camouflage uniform, signs that established her place in the
rigid hierarchy of the military, and introduced himself.
"Ensign Patricia Claire" she responded, holding out her hand.
Simon shook her hand and invited her to be comfortable. "Now I don't
know how the Navy does things," he smiled at her, indicating that he was
being humorous, "but I think that I can still buy you a drink without being
charged with sexual harassment."
The younger officer smiled and giggled. "I'm the Executive Officer of a
gunboat section. Hanging out with six boat of horny sailors makes me
impervious to any kind of harassment." She gave him a frank look. "And
besides, you look like what my would call a gentleman."
Simon groaned. "I hope that doesn't mean old." They both laughed and
she ordered a beer.
Patty was a Coast Guard officer. A "Coastie," she joked. She had been
pressed into service with the fast attack boats because of her knowledge of
the local waters around the southern tip of the Eastern Shore. Simon
caught himself admiring the officer's firm figure and her bright blue
eyes. Catching him staring at her, Patty gave her short hair a saucy flip
and batted her eyes.
"Why Major," her southern drawl was straight from Gone With the Wind.
"I do believe that you're staring at me."
Simon struggled to come up with a quick excuse but Patty took control of
"Now I'm not looking for anything permanent." She stood and started
unbuttoning her work shirt, exposing the cups of her white cotton bra.
"Just promise me that you'll be discrete."
He looked into her eyes. Before she could ask what he was thinking, he
kissed her full on the mouth. Not a chaste, comrades in-arms kiss; nor
even a first date, "why don't you come up to see my etchings" kiss. It was
a full contact, soul-searing embrace that crescendoed as they sought refuge
from the war in each other's arms.
Finally breaking the embrace, she turned back to the window but he was
determined not to lose the moment. Standing behind her, Simon pulled her
work out of her pants and unbuckled her belt. Smiling in
anticipation, she reached underneath her T-shirt and unsnapped her bra.
"Thank goodness for front snapping equipment," he murmured.
While he explored her wonderfully firm tits, she reached behind her hip
and groped his crotch. Patty turned around and Simon slid up against her
body. She grabbed at his belt, pawing at the buckle but Simon had other
ideas. He pushed her back against the small oaken bar, raised her T-shirt,
and released her to the cool night air. Simon her nipples,
lovingly suckling and pinching them until she shivered.
Patty rolled off the bar table, her eyes glazed from whiskey and lust.
She knelt in front of Simon and proudly told him that she was going to suck
him dry. Patty made sure that her eager lips and tongue covered every bit
of his turgid, throbbing cock. Her hands jacked him off while her mouth
teased his sensitive scrotum. Simon groaned and clasped her head to his
swollen balls as she his testes into her mouth like hard candy.
"My God you are a great cock sucker."
Patty continued to stroke his cock as she smiled and answered, "You say
the sweetest things, Major."
It didn't take much more before Simon went over the edge, filling
Patty's hot mouth with his white cream. He leaned back against a bar
stool, momentarily dizzy.
"We've got to go upstairs," he put his hands under her arms and lifted
her to her feet. Pressing his still cock between them, Simon told
her that he had to fuck her.
"Another time." She smiled and kissed him.
He tasted the saltiness of his own seed on her lips before she stepped
back. Quickly, she snapped her bra and rearranged her clothes. For a
moment she looked a bit embarrassed.
"The guard is probably jerking off with his ear to the door," she said
as she fussed with her hair.
"With all the noise I made he wouldn't have to get that close." They
shared a quick laugh before Simon offered to take her back to her rooms.
"No, I think that would start the rumor mill in overdrive. I have to
work down on the docks. Unlike you spooks." The last bit was delivered as
a tease since Simon had evaded the earlier questions about why he was in
Once they were presentable Simon asked, "Is there a chance I could see
Lightly patting his deflating organ, she rose onto her toes and
whispered her answer in his ear. "You can bet on it. I've got a rain
check with this fella."
Simon went to sleep that night listening to the echoes of cannon fire
and wondering what the next dawn would bring.