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The sirens shake you from sleep. You reach for the phone underneath your pillow in the dark, heart racing and mouth dry from panic. Guards enter the dormitory, unarmed but acting to a practiced directive. Daddy warned you something would happen, but he gave you no indication of when or how.
This, you manage to think, is the when.
The how? The combined molecular machinery had made its way into the system and done its work.
Neither of these facts prepare you for what you are supposed to do.
One of the guards shouts for everyone to get up.
‘We’ve got a denial of service attack. Please follow me to the staging station.’
Her voice is soft, with a european accent but her eyes bear into yours without patience or humour. You get up, warm cotton sweats clinging to your legs and chest as you let yourself be led from the dormitory.
You wonder if you are coming back.
Daddy was supposed to tell you what to do.
You fall in with a group of others, hustled down the unlit corridor as you hear the sound of alarms shrieking and things clashing in the darkness, like machines fucking in a final orgiastic spasm of destruction.
The group parts and someone moves closer to you than normal. You are about to speak but you catch a whiff of musk, and feel a rough, warm hand on the small of your back.
‘Take the next left.’
Daddy’s voice is low and calm, and you fight the urge to push closer to him, finding solace and substance in his arrival. The questions bubble up in you but action is the necessary course, and so you let him guide you onwards.
You both dart out of the group, who are too concerned with escape to notice the numbers. You start to turn but Daddy keeps you moving and his hand at your back ushers you forwards into a part of the facility where the lights have gone and the sounds of chaos have muted.
His hands clamp on your upper arms and he turns you around to face him. You make out his face, the gleam of his eyes and the warmth of his breath. Your hands rush up to stroke his face, the bristles feel wonderful against your fingertips and you fight the urge to have him rub his beard all over you. The times where you were saturated with one another, abraded and exhausted all rush to your mutual aid.
His lips brush against yours and he growls with pleasure.
‘Down here, there’s a tunnel and a van waiting. We can get out of their jurisdiction by dawn, and I’ve booked us a room.’
A room. You’ve experienced the most bruising intimacies with him, in all sorts of settings, but a room without surveillance or trappings sounds delightful in its mundanity.
Your tongue darts forwards, slipping between his lips as you stroke his face and lose yourself in the moist, hot dance of his lips. You could kiss him until your lips were swollen and never know enough. It is the need for breath which makes you put your hand to his chest and stop him.
‘A Daddy push?’ he said.
He is smiling as he puts his arm around you and continues down the corridor.
‘He asked about you.’ you say.
He nods and keeps moving.
‘I know, but he didn’t see this coming.’ he said.
He stops at the utility door and draws out a keycard from his back pocket, swipes it down and the door clicks open. A rush of cold wind slithers over you both and you move towards him, hands straying under the hem of his t shirt to stroke the fur on his stomach.
The tunnel stretches ahead and you pause, unnerved by what happens next even as the excitement of Daddy’s presence makes you keen to move. He touches the nape of your neck and plants a kiss on your temple.
‘I’ve got you, baby girl.’
You move down the tunnel, where large banks of computing equipment are covered with thick plastic sheeting and set alongside the walls. The floor is clear and you make good time before you reach the door. He dangles the keys between his thumb and forefinger with a smile.
‘It’s all going to be okay.’ he says.
‘I love you Daddy.’ you say
He opens the door with the keycard and steps through.
A gloved hand forces a tazer against the side of his neck. You cannot see his face but he shudders and falls away, twitching and growling like a felled animal.
From the room ahead, a voice lilts forwards, amused and superior in tone.
‘What a pleasant surprise.’