The Pact A Master PC TaleChapter 21 Audrey rsquo s Story
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The Pact: A Master PC TaleChapter 20: Audrey Belle free porn video
Sleeping in the dumpsters of Las Vegas wasn’t worst part. No, Audrey knew, the worst thing that could happen is to be flipped up and dumped into a compactor before you were awake enough to react and save yourself.
But she was a light sleeper. The dumpster trash – mainly papers – afforded her warmth in the evening and she knew where she wash the stench off each day. If she could find a way to get to Master, to let him know she was still Out Here. But their contact, after all these years, was broken, and so was Audrey’s life.
Once morning came, she slipped out of the big metal sanctuary and quietly slipped the three blocks to her morning sanctuary. A single mom, a schoolteacher, kept schoolhouse hours so that she was out the door, dragging her stubborn son, before 8 a.m. every day.
Making sure the neighbors didn’t see her, she crawled through the yard like a Marine on a mission, slipping onto the porch and finding the key to her day under the mat, as usual. She grabbed a small snack, one that wouldn’t be noticed as missing since her son helped himself often as not, then took a hot shower while her clothes went through the washer.
Careful to dry the tub as well as herself when finished, she afforded herself the one time a day to examine her own likeness in the homeowner’s mirror. The face that stared back at her wasn’t unattractive: shoulder length red hair, a few freckles, a small set of perky tits.
But it wasn’t her. Was it?
She often tried to connect the dots. She remembered Nicky, sort of remembered Corinne, and there was one other person before that, who was all but gone from her memory. Now, she was just ... Audrey. Or was it Amber? No, Amber was who she was supposed to be, who she was scheduled to become, or so Master had told her.
Why wasn’t she Amber? Why was she just ... Audrey?
She slipped into the homeowner’s bedroom and hoped against hope she’d left her computer running. For several weeks now, she was diligent about powering down, leaving her visitors literally disconnected. But not today. It was still running, still warm.
Audrey did not waste a second. Finding the gmail account, she hurriedly typed a message, then deleted it as soon as its delivery was confirmed. For the first time in weeks, she thought she might sleep somewhere other than a Vegas dumpster.
But before leaving the house exactly the way she found it, she paused a second at the woman’s closet, looking at her nicest dresses, touching them and thinking, for a split second how each would look on Nicky, on Corinne, even Cherry, who was here for such a brief time.
She couldn’t afford tears, or the time. Carefully relocking the door and replacing the key, she slipped out as unseen as she’d arrived.
The PING! of a message being received nearly gave Chuck Arnovsky a heart attack.
He was intently examining Computer Find #3 (as he named it), contemplating the series of files slugged Audrey Belle when the somewhat dated laptop came to life.
Truth to tell, Chuck had spent most of his waking hours considering these four laptops since handing the Master PC unit to Larry, however reluctantly. The first, which had all of the offshore accounts belonging to the late owner (whoever the hell he was) had long since been picked clean, rerouted a dozen different ways into other, equally secure, Cayman accounts in several equal portions. Chuck then destroyed the hard drive and threw it and the rest of the laptop into the fireplace.
Number two was obviously his “public” computer, with a now-dormant e-mail account as well as an extensive inventory of the owner’s antiques – a list which Bud Wilson confirmed as being much of the inventory that he viewed. Computer #4 was the backup – everything from the others was backed up on this unit, including Master PC. One day real soon, Chuck would share that with Larry, once enough time had passed that his friend again had confidence in him and his judgment.
That left Computer #3, and its apparently singular purpose. It was loaded with dozens of older porn films and images, concentrating on one or two women that Chuck vaguely remembered from his college (and pre-Joanie) days. But one of the files, the Audrey Belle file, was nothing but millions of pieces of code, indicating the work of a true computer prodigy. What it meant, even Chuck was clueless.
Which was why he was staring at it over his breakfast bagel when a PING! changed everything.
It was a text message, simple but confusing as hell at the same time:
Where are U? Awaiting my commands! All alone. :(
It took less than 10 seconds for Chuck to face the fact that he had to bring me into this, and he caught me in the middle of my morning workout. Okay, I was fucking Stacy and hearing all about her night out as a dickgirl.
“We were just the right size to fit but make when whimper with need,” grinned my cute daughter as she straddled me, dickless once more. “The programming was perfect. After we’d done everything we were going to do, the impression of our two-footers were left inside them. They’ll spend the rest of their lives feeling like the perfect cock is filling them.”
“Like this?” I asked innocently as I willed my cock to be a full inch wider.
“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! That’s ... more than I would have looking for! Thanks, dad!” she said, kissing me full on the mouth just as the phone chirped. Ever limber, she was able to bend over and put it to my ear without losing any of my shaft.
“Yeah, Chuck. What couldn’t wait?” I asked, even as I added a two-inch length, the better to thrust with.
“I think our mysterious computer genius had, God, the only way I can put it, is he had a slave out there,” Chuck said.
“Jesus,” I said, easing my daughter off my dick and standing up. “You can tell this how?”
“She just text-messaged me ... uh, him,” he said. “And I mean, just now did.”
Looking over at my sprawled out daughter with her come hither stare in full focus, I shook my head and gave him my total concentration.
“Did you reply?” I asked. “Do you have a location?”
“The computer that sent it seems to be turned off; I tried once already,” Chuck said. “But I think I can pin it down; the email wasn’t encoded or anything.”
“Don’t send any message until I get there,” I said, grabbing for my clothes before I even hung up.
“Do you want me to join you,” Stacy asked.
“No,” I said somewhat firmly. “We are expecting a guest, right?”
That would be Anita, arriving with the last of her clothes.
“Sure. Okay,” she pouted, but only for a moment.
Within minutes, I was on my way over to Chuck’s, and grimaced when my dick twitched as I passed over that damn bridge. I arrived to Joanie’s kiss, but she left us alone to solve the mystery.
“Any luck pinning down the location?” I asked straightaway.
He was equally succinct. He was as eager to get past our last such meeting as I was. “Sure could. The signature indicates it was, or is, a privately owned laptop in Las Vegas.”
“That narrows it down,” I said. “How many PCs in that city. A million?”
“But only one at 2615 Saguaro Lane,” Chuck said. “I was able to backtrack its purchase and confirm that a single mom named Kathy Upton, who is a teacher in the Vegas public school system, bought it a year ago.”
“Consider me impressed,” I said sincerely. “We can work with that.”
He handed me the slip of paper, adding, “What sort of reply should I send?”
“None,” I said. “I will be there in two hours. If they realize we’re not their lord and master, they might take off.”
“I’ll text you if I hear from them again,” he shouted after me. I didn’t even notice the bridge when I crossed over it on the way to the Bakersfield airport. Vegas flights were a dime a dozen, so I got a first class seat on the first one out and was there inside of 30 minutes. But it was still enough time to get someone to meet me.
“Larry! Larry!” Nicky shouted with a wave in the arrivals lounge. She wore a skirt that dancers loved; one that flared out slightly, the better to show off her sculpted legs. She had more makeup on, but otherwise hadn’t changed since I last saw her.
We embraced like the long-lost friends we were, but I wasn’t expecting the incendiary kiss that followed. Were we in the middle of the lobby, I might have taken her right there except for the thousand or so witnesses.
“Whey you called, I got the rest of the day off and took a cab right over here,” she said. “I’ve already given my notice there anyway.”
There was lounge that I wasn’t familiar with – not surprising given my limited time in Vegas. I just knew she was gainfully employed as a dancer, keeping her in amazing shape. Knowing she was coming home soon had me happy and excited. But, alas, this was to be a short visit.
“I wish I could go with you,” she said, already moving away. “But I have to help Cassie pack so this thing goes off as planned. This was a great treat, though.”
She danced away with a wave, not knowing what she was missing.
One map and one rental car later, I found myself sitting on Saguaro Lane, hating that I’d gotten a boner from seeing staring at a fenced-in cottage that to call it nondescript would be giving it a complement.
It seemed apparent no one was home, but I had been there less than 15 minutes when a late model Toyota pulled under the carport and a somewhat cute, dark-haired woman got out, then opened the back seat and removed what appeared to be about a two-year-old boy. She took the child inside, then hurried back out to bring in some groceries. I tried to give her enough time to wind down before I went to the front door. I was pleasantly surprised when a busty, braless cutie met me at the door.
“Kathy Upton?” I asked from a respectful distance.
“Maybe,” she said. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to find a friend,” I said, not giving my name. “Do you have a house guest, or someone who has access to your computer?”
That actually drew a laugh from the woman, who ushered me inside.
“I wondered if someone was looking for her,” she said, offering me her couch and a Coke.
“How do you mean?” I asked, sitting up in the comfy couch.
“Well, she’s not exactly a house guest, but she comes inside nearly every day,” Kathy said. “She tries to cover her tracks, but one day I had to double back to pick up some papers, and I saw her find my key and go inside. She looked so utterly pitiful, I couldn’t bring myself to call the police.”
“Describe her to me,” I said.
“Scrawny. Pale – for Vegas. Short, dingy red hair,” Kathy said. “Long legs. I bet she danced once upon a time. She moved that way, kinda catlike.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“I don’t see her that often. But I’m sure she was in here again today,” she said. “Follow me.”
We went into the kitchen. And, yes, I admired her ass as my erection preceded me.
“She always makes herself a sandwich,” Kathy explained. “She tries to put everything back the way she found it, but she always used paper towels for napkins and throws them away. She also takes a shower most days. She dries out the tub and runs her towel and, I’m guessing, her clothes, through my washer and dryer while she showers. The dryer is always warm when I get home.”
“You’d make a pretty good detective,” I said.
She dismissed that with a wave of her hand.
“That’s just stuff I picked up off the nanny-cam,” she said, pointing at a small clock sitting on her mantle that faced her kitchen. “You want to look at the video and see if it’s your friend?”
“Sure,” I said, intrigued by now. She bent over to set up the video and I realized how cut off her cutoffs were. She shaved, bless her heart. My boner, which had not subsided since the airport, cried for relief.
She pointed a remote at her TV and it came to life, and there our little lost girl was, just as Kathy described, making herself a little sandwich.
“Is this from today?” I asked.
“This morning. Right after I left for school with Rocky – my little boy,” she replied with a smile that reflected some pride. “Well, that’s different.”
Our girl was sitting down at Kathy’s laptop and typed a quick message. She looked to be deleting it as soon as she sent it and closed the top. It had been open and running when she sat down.
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