Chapter 3 
Index
Subject: CODY: BUTTERFLY Chp.4 Was Raw Files
From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl)
Date: 1997/04/07
Message-Id: <5ibthv$7m5@alice.walrus.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories,rec.arts.prose
THE BUTTERFLY
A work in progress
By CODY ANN MICHAELS
c. All rights reserved.
Our story: Felony looked at herself in the mirror. A tall woman
with hard piercing eyes, lazer looks, a tall shock of red hair jutting out
of her scalp, and long dangle earrings. She was a cop.
The screams rang in her ears. She pictured her daughter crawling
around the cabin floor, her hair falling in her face. Begging ... for
what? What did Street have to offer? Two forty-four inch tits. Soft
buns. Long legs. A fleecy mound of Venus. T wo large eyes. Incredibly
kissable lips. Big hard nipples. Long shaggy hair. The lovely teenager
had begged to have the tattoo. Oh, please, Mommy, please! Finally,
Felony had relented. It was so pretty. She couldn't sit down for two
days. She cou ldn't wait to show it off. Felony put her foot down. No
boys. Awwww, ma! I'm telling you, no boys. Not even in a swimsuit? Of
course, in a thong swimsuit, you couldn't miss it. It was a purple, gold
and green kiss on the round behind. Street flaun ted it. She wanted
another on her pink tit. To balance it. A fairy. She showed her the
picture. Felony was horrified. Where did you get this? Off the
internet.
Later that night, the men had taken her to a bar. They had enough
confidence in themselves that they knew Street would not try to escape.
They sat her on a barstool where the butterfly had been and Street nearly
jumped through the ceiling. Tears start ed to come out of her eyes as
they forced her to keep sitting, and cross her legs. Her skirt had slid
up, and the slit showed off her hip clear to the waist. Her hair was all
mussed up. She looked like she had been dragged out of a cesspool. One
of th e men, Floyd, asked her what she wanted. She said a vodka martini.
One of the other guys ran his hand up her thigh. The other guys in the
room were looking at her. She felt totally self-conscious.
A couple of guys came up and started to talk to Burt. Floyd
played with her twat. Street rubbed her legs together. She was getting
hot. It felt like her backside had been branded. You could make a deal
to go in the back room. How much? Ten bucks. For all of us? There was
a pool table there. And some tables. Street moaned.
It will screw up everything, Felony thought. Her 8 a.m. video
taping. The wedding rehearsal. Shit. Everything. Who should I call?
Not the police. The police would be the last thing you would want brought
in on this. Burt and Harry. I met them on the Internet.
She looked at herself in the mirror. I've got to get going. They
worked the night shift, her and her partner. The wee small hours of the
morning, when anything can happen. Tonight they were prowling through the
red light district. In search of clues . Clues could tell you a lot of
things. Clues are like a whore with a sewer mouth. Someone who doesn't
know when to shutup. That's what Felony wanted. Someone to tell her
where her daughter was.
Chapter 4
Street corner. Coming and going. Night time. Bunch of whores
hanging out. Street lights. Cars. Girl in a black raincoat. Pretty
blonde. Round face. Goes over to a car. Dickers with the driver. Comes
back. Another girl goes out. Standing arou nd in twos and threes. Car
slows down. Girl in the black raincoat bends down to look in. She's
wearing a white mini. Very short. Cupcake face. Big eyes. Hi. Want to
play? She opens the coat. Black panties. Big tits. Low cut dress. She
got into the car. It drove away.
The driver was a woman. They went to the Kennedy Hotel on the
Embarcadero. Elevator up to the fifth floor. The girl had been there
before, of course. She was really pissed when she found out Felony was a
cop.
Stop. Keep it simple. Tell it simple.
"What's your name?"
"Shiloh."
She started to walk out. Felony grabbed her arm and dragged her
back in. Threw her on the bed. She was a tall redhead with short hair.
She could have passed for a fashion model or a whore in those clothes.
"What do you want?"
"Information."
Felony and her partner picked up Shiloh and took her to a hotel.
He sat outside while Felony questioned the prisoner.
"I can be very friendly, you know."
The girl was crying.
"Get up."
"NO!"
Don't tell me that. Slam. The coyote's soft squishy body hit the
wall.
"Now we'll talk."
Felony had a set of brass nuckles. She had always wanted to do
that to a whore.
"Want some?" She took a drink of the water bottle.
The girl nodded. Felony poured it in her face.
She licked it up. I've got to get the files. The raw files. Where are
they? I don't know. Slap.
Did you get it out of her?
No. But she'll talk.
Won't you slut?
She pinched the girl's face with one hand.
The one with the glove on it. She put it round the girl's throat and
squeezed. Shiloh turned red in the face.
God, you disgust me, you filthy little pig. If you only knew.
Hey, Felony, not so loud. You're disturbing the other guests.
They tortured her all night long, but she never talked. Later, they put
the body in a dumpster.
Good practice.
Come on, I'll buy you one.
God, that was a workout, wasn't it?
They drove downtown.
Ever kill a whore before?
Not lately.
It feels good.
Why don't we do one?
We can say we're interrogating her. She laughed. What's the matter. You
are pure evil. It gave him the shivers. The woman was hard as ice. How
about that one? They picked her out. Now, we want to ask you a few
questions. I don't know anything. H onest I don't. She was an adviser.
She showed them how to do it. The blonde was scared. You could tell by
the look in her large eyes. She had never been through this before. Now
she was going to get it.
They closed the circuit. The girl went off.
Big blonde all over the place.
Felony laughed. I like them when they do that. She pulled the cord out
of the lamp. This will do. You can get a lot of information with very
simple devices, things you find around the house. Let me show you. You
might want to try it.
When she got home, she was tired. Her daughter was working on her
homework. Street looked up. "Hi, Mom."
The innocent teenager was doing her geometry lesson. Felony
smiled. "Hi, honey. How was school? Did you pass the test?"
Felony was a single parent, bringing up a teenage adolescent. She
watched her closely. "What are you reading?" A novel by James Joyce.
"Oh, honey, I wish you wouldn't read stuff like that." Our teacher gave
it to us. She wondered what kind of perso n would do that. "Let me see?"
The theorems of Euclid. Pretty tall stuff, eh? It's not so bad as it
sounds. He was pretty ok. For someone who lived so long ago. Did you
ever read it? Felony tried to think if she had. Her childhood seemed so
long ago. She remembered the beatings and being raped by her dad. Every
girl remembers those. It was something else she couldn't quite get a
handle on. What was it? "What are you doing now?" Playing with the
computer. "I want to use it later." Check th ose reports. From
headquarters. Go over the files. Check it out. Maybe get into a chat
room. Talk to people. Try to make contact. Street said she had to go
out. "Take your coat. It looks like rain."
Her login on the net was Coyote. Everyone knew her. She was a
whore. A total web slut. Men loved to abuse her. Fuck her brains out.
She kept her real identity secret. Only her daughter knew. But Felony
didn't know that. For instance, she didn't know her biggest tormenter was
Street and her boy friends making up stuff for her mother to do.
Coyote pretended to be fourteen years old, Street's age. She even
dressed in Street's clothes when she wasn't home. Street didn't tell her
about the video camera she had set up. The whole house was a studio,
shooting Felony's masturbations. There was a knock on the door. When she
opened it she found a cassette. Yeah, I remember now, she was a bit
disturbed. When she saw it. My heart stopped. I just stood there and
stared. Was that me moving around the house in a school girl uniform? My
heart f elt frozen. What I mean. Her mind raced backward and forwards,
trying to figure the images out. I realized I needed a friend. Someone
who I could call on. Who I could trust. The knife was right there. I
picked it up. So you see, Shiloh, that's ho w it. I can't let you live.
A serrated bread knife. You should have seen the room. My god, the mess.
The unholy mess. What did they do here? I should call the cops. But he
didn't. They just cleaned it up. It was normal. He tried to warn the
nex t girl who came in. With the tall redhead. Yeah. Watch yourself.
Ixnay. adbay ohnjay. Try to keep the noise down, huh?
I just need someone to talk to. Tell about it. Sure honey, sock
it to me. My daughter's in middle school. She gets good grades. Don't
get me wrong. I'm wild about her. But then I found out she was writing
to guys on the internet. I think she went to meet one of them.
They had Street. She wanted information. And I want it now. The
girl was scared. She babbled about what she knew. Felony closed in. The
girl worked away from her and got behind the bureau. Like someone was
going leave his stuff here, in this rat t rap. Mattress on an old cot.
Let me refresh your memory. She pulled the mattress off the cot, then
made the girl lie on the wire. She spread eagled her, lashing her wrists
and ankles to the frame. The girl was essentially helpless. Felony
wanted to know who was behind the rackets. Mr. Big. The girl didn't
know. And where to find him. Honest, I don't. oh nooooo
There are a lot of things you can get out of a girl with a wire
coat hanger. And most of them were lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
The girl's eyes were frozen in a stare. Her mouth was open. Felony
didn't have time to take her with her. She w as on a scent. From what
the girl had told her, she knew who Mr. Big was even though the girl
didn't. She was just a repository for information. You just had to know
how to access it. From what she told you came little clues that all fit
together. Felony went back to her apartment. Street still wasn't home.
She started to worry.
They had a rule Street had to be in by nine on week nights.
Friday and Saturday she could be out until eleven. She and her friends
went to the mall. But the mall had a new policy. Anyone under sixteen
had to be accompanied by an adult. So they went downtown. In a cyber
cafe, Street and her friends amused themselves making up things for Felony
to do back home. Like she was supposed to put on a maid's uniform and
clean up the house. Felony wore nine inch high heels with pointed toes.
And her arms were laced up the back with an elbow cinch.
Street walked her around the house on a leash. The shades were
all drawn. Street made her raise them and stand in the open window.
You're a real whore now, aren't you Coyote?
Coyote was Street's slave.
Felony had no idea her teenage daughter was Shiloh Morgan.
Nothing in her experience had prepared her for what Shiloh did to her. It
was like Robo Cop 2. Only this time the machine was a sleek redhead in
black leather. Shiloh ordered her to go to the same street corner where
she had picked up Shiloh and sell herself to whoever wanted her. The
girls watched from a nearby resturant window. "She's doing it. My God,
she's actually getting into a car. I can't believe it." They slapped
hands.
When Felony got home, there was no one there. Maybe she slept
over at Morgan's. She started to call. Then realized how she must look.
How cheap and dirty. Did she really want Street to see her like this?
She needed a bath. The next day, when Stree t still didn't come home, she
started to worry. She checked with her friends. No one had seen her.
Delia, is that you. This is Felony. I'm worried sick. Street didn't
come home. She didn't know whether to report it or not. Maybe it was no
big deal . The last thing she wanted was headquarters mucking around in
her life. Then she got the tape.
This time it was real. And the photograph. Like, she totally
paniced. Something inside of her died. She was my baby. It was a total
flashback. Street's father. They both had the same dad. It gets
complicated. Then she began to read the files. S treet's correspondence.
Who had she gone to meet? Like, who was programming her? That's what I
want to know. Relax, we'll find her. She's got to be around here
somewhere. She gave them the tapes. She didn't care what happened to
her. She wanted he r daughter back. Is that her? I think so. They took
the girl up to the hotel room. You want to be alone? Thanks, Gus. She
closed the door. Now, let's talk, shall we?
Chapter 3 Index