Secret Sins Ch. 11

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Will the real Donna Liski please stand up?
11.4k words
4.72
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Part 11 of the 19 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 01/19/2018
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Ameaner
Ameaner
1,252 Followers

Will the real Donna Liski please stand up?

It had turned out that Joel liked his beer and Margie enjoyed a glass of white rum to put her to sleep every night, so they had enough booze on hand to keep me 'in the zone' for the hours of orgy fun I'd had at their place that day. It was late when I got home, drunk and wearing only my garters and an overcoat from Margie's closet that was long enough to cover me, and I never even checked the time before falling into bed, exhausted, so satisfied and sticky all over.

While I didn't feel spiritually crushed by my behaviour when I woke up late Sunday morning, still buzzed, I was mildly shocked at some of the highlights, yet guiltily smiling and immediately excited by those memories. Regardless, the first thing I did upon rolling out of bed was to pitter-patter my way, naked apart from my garters, to the kitchenette in order to mix up a nice, strong screwdriver for myself. The new Queen needed constant reassurance, and it was best not to let the old regime too close to the throne room at that point.

It was like running from the Devil. All those horrible feelings of guilt and self-loathing that were able to work their way so close while I slept were waiting for me to awaken so they could pounce before I could run for the nearest bottle. But then I'd have a drink and I'd be on my way again, fleeing, looking over my shoulder, my relieved smile a little wider with every drink, knowing I'm outdistancing him again. It's the best feeling ever. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I couldn't stay drunk forever, that he'd catch up with me sooner or later. Because I'd have to let him, have to deal with him. Only a matter of time...

Standing at the end of the kitchenette counter with that relieved, dirty and well satisfied grin etched into my features, my eyes happened to once again fall upon my uniform of office, the very representative of that old regime, spread over a small area of the living room floor where I'd left it two days before. I'd always taken such good care of it prior to this, my respect for what it represented uppermost in my mind when it came to carefully hanging it in such a way as to not create any unwanted creases. As I stood there regarding it, that care I'd always taken seemed to personify the importance of the career path it represented. Taking a healthy gulp from my glass, I wondered what it meant that I'd now leave it there in a mess on the floor.

But I well knew what it meant. There was no need to wonder. I knew it well enough to frown, taking another drink as that uniform seemed to stare back at me from the floor, accusing me of treason, transgression, failure, and a host of other things I didn't want to deal with.

The sound of my smartphone startled me. It had to ring a second time before I started moving for it, becoming excited with the knowledge that it could only be Donna, and I couldn't wait to tell her all about how I'd spent Saturday, not to mention get her report as to what had happened between her and the Major on Friday.

"Hi!" I excitedly answered, taking another healthy slug from my glass.

"Hi, Honey," my father replied, making the somewhat putrid ratio of vodka to pulpy orange juice spray from my mouth.

("Cough, cough, ga-agg!")

" ... Tara? Are you alright?" he asked, his previously cheerful tone now one of concern.

"Y-aack! Yeah, I ju- a-ack! (Ahem!) Something went down the wrong way," I managed to croak.

"Y-you're sure you're okay?"

"(Ahe-hem!) Yeah, I'm sorry. Just didn't- uh, so hey! How are you and Mom? (Ahem!)"

After a silent pause that conveyed carefully diminishing concern, he replied, "Oh, we're fine. You know, not much ever happens up here; things just keep going on like they do. How've you been doing?"

"Good, good," I replied, finally getting hold of some composure as I set my glass on the counter. "I'm, uh, getting the Mission into pretty good shape here, and I'm doing really good. Really good."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Your mother and I were getting a little worried."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"We called last weekend because, as you know, our long distance is free for us on the weekends, and we got a recorded message that you were away from your phone, or out of your service area, or whatever."

"Oh, okay. No, I was just without a phone for a few days," I explained. "I had to get a new one."

"What happened?"

"Dropped it."

"Aren't those things tougher than that?"

"In the bathtub."

" ... How'd you do that?"

Rolling my eyes, I couldn't help but smile as I explained, "It was an accident, Dad."

"Uh huh," he said, his tone meant to tease me in the way he sometimes would. "So, you've been safe down there?"

"Yes, Dad. It's safer here than it is in Iqaluit."

"How do you figure that?" he asked.

"Because polar bears are inherently more dangerous than people."

"Some would debate that," he replied. "Speaking of, I've got the skinny on your Major Hurdle."

My brows shot up at this. In all the sexual escapades, Hurdle's blackmail, lust, drinking, crazy suspicions of Donna, doubting my salvation and the soul crushing guilt that I'd been experiencing, I'd forgotten all about the fact that Dad was going to use some of his contacts to look into the Major for me.

"Oh. Find out anything interesting?"

"You could say that," he sighed. "To start out with, he's definitely the ambitious type, the type I've always spoken of. One of the younger Major's in the ranks. He's forty-two and graduated from CFOT when he was thirty-three."

"Wow," I expressed. "That is ambitious."

"Hm. His background is CUPE. You know what that is, right?"

"The union," I replied."

"Canadian Union of Public Employees," he clarified. "They handle healthcare workers, schoolboard employees, librarians, our employees, people like that."

"Okay," I nodded, adding, "I find that very interesting."

"Why?"

"Because he's a union buster."

"Yes, he most certainly is," Dad confirmed, "but how'd you know that?"

"He told me. He was quite up front about it, told me that, if he'd been at his current posting when they first started throwing the 'U' word around, it never would have happened to begin with."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. According to a contact of mine who knows him, he's quite the arrogant type. Likes to brag about how he gets things done, yet I'd believe him, at least where that claim is concerned."

"That's him, alright," I snickered. "Bragging, I mean. Not to mention about his uncle."

"His uncle?"

"Yeah, the Territorial Commander."

" ... Did he tell you that?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Honey, Commissioner Lambert is an only child."

" ... What do you mean?"

"Commissioner Lambert is not his uncle."

"But... are you sure?"

"I knew someone who graduated CFOT with Lambert. Yes, I'm sure."

"Well, maybe he's Hurdle's uncle by marriage," I postulated.

"Tara, I assure you, Commissioner Lambert is not Major Hurdle's uncle, not by blood and not by marriage. If he was, you can be sure that that information would have come to me when I checked Hurdle out. Believe me, that's not the kind of thing that stays hidden within the ranks. He lied to you."

This was one hell of a surprise. Not exactly in the category of finding out where my office came from, or where the front room's Queen Anne living room set came from, and certainly nowhere close to seeing Sumitra torturing her husband with an antenna, but this was big.

"Why would he tell you that?" he asked, a note of concern and/or suspicion in his tone.

" ... Uh, I don't know, that's...that's a good question," I replied, desperately trying to think of an answer that wouldn't implicate me. After all, unless he was trying to gain leverage over me, he had no reason to tell me that. Lying sack of-

"How do you two get along?" Dad inquired.

"We get along fine. I mean, I only ever see him once per week, usually for a half hour or so while I report on my progress here at the Mission."

"How does he treat you?"

"He treats me fine. He's professional... passes out advice on how to handle my assistant, how to present myself here in the hood, that sort of thing. I haven't had any problems with him."

" ... Huh. Well, you watch him, honey. From what I've been told, he's not just a trouble-shooter, not just a union buster. He's an arrogant, cocky, manipulative snake in the grass who doesn't hesitate to step on anybody to get ahead. That's how he's gotten so far in so little time. Yes, he has a reputation for getting things done, but the way he gets things done is usually about as unethical as it gets and with a foot on somebody's head."

"But, if that's the case, how is it that he doesn't get caught?" I asked, thinking of the Funraiser. "If you can get this information about him, how is it that he's made it to the rank of Major in just nine years?"

"Because," Dad explained, "like I said, he gets things done for the upper ranks and, to quite an extent, that's all they care about. But that's not the only reason. He's very good at covering his tracks and keeping people who do see him for what he is safely in check. It's pretty hard to level an accusation without proof of some kind and, if he happens to have something on the accuser, it's downright foolhardy to say anything. Add to that a natural unwillingness in the upper ranks to even listen to an accusation against one of their most effective trouble-shooters, especially when you consider how they may have used him in their own less than ethical dealings... Well, you're a smart girl. I'm sure you get the picture. In another ten years, he could be Territorial Commander."

"But, that's...!"

"That's the Salvation Army," Dad finished for me with a grim tone. "I've been telling you this most all your life. It aint what it used to be. These days, ambition in the ranks means being what he is, to one degree or another, and that's why I've warned you about that so many times. So, be careful of him. Don't trust him, no matter how he comes off, no matter how professional he seems. The best that can come from dealing too closely with him is ending up exactly like him and, even then, there's still no guarantee that he won't throw you under the bus for the slightest reason, maybe even just because he perceives your advancing career and favour with the upper ranks as a threat to him."

"I understand, Dad."

(If he only knew how well I understood.)

"Good. And one more thing... His wife is just as bad as he is. You've heard that old saying, 'Birds of a feather flock together'?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's them. Always remember: a husband and wife, especially in the Army, is a team. They work together towards shared, common goals, and don't think for one second that they ever would have gotten married to begin with if their ethics, or lack thereof, weren't in tight lockstep with one another. She's quite the looker, I'm told, but certainly not to be trusted. She acts as his soft side, the side that people let their guard down with and open up to, but don't you be fooled; talking to her is talking to him, and he'd never have gotten as far as he has without her being on the very same page with him, right from day one, from the day they met at CFOT. Okay?"

"Okay, I'll be careful with her," I promised.

We spent almost an hour on the phone, talking of these things, then catching up. Unfortunately, most of that part of our conversation was one way. It wasn't as though I could relate most of the things that had been happening in my life, and I was unwilling to lie to my Dad any more than I'd already done out of necessity. I told him a little about Donna, how she'd become a good friend and was looking out for me, and that made him feel better about me being where I was. Mom got on and, of course, went through mostly the same worried questions, warnings about Major Hurdle and his wife, etcetera. But I was glad to finally get off the line, not because I didn't miss them or anything like that, but because I wanted the headspace for consideration of the changed landscape of my real relationship with the Major.

Taking a deep drink from the glass I'd left on the counter, I carried it to the window, making a thoughtfully sour face at the taste as I surveyed the street below without really seeing anything.

I had no question as to why the Major had lied about the Territorial Commander being his uncle. He was working me right from the start. He probably knew about my parents and their disfavour with the upper ranks before I ever even crossed the provincial border, and my convenient flirtations only gave him the hand up on me that he was already looking for. Claiming that Commissioner Lambert was his uncle only made him seem more opposing in my eyes, much the same way that chimpanzees will hop up on each other's backs in order to appear larger in the face of a dangerous predator.

But, I wasn't a dangerous predator and never had been. I was a victim, and he'd seen that right away. His lie had been about keeping me fearfully where he wanted me, under his thumb and forced to do whatever he wanted. Why, even if I were to try resigning my commission, he could tell me not to, to stay in uniform, serving him for as long as he had a use for me. The more dangerous to me and my parents I perceived him as being, the more sure I was to fall to his demands.

But the Territorial Commander wasn't, in fact, his uncle. What did this change? How did this fact alter the strategic map between him and me?

The answer, of course, depended on just how much favour the Major held with the upper ranks. As Dad had pointed out, he'd have to have some to have made it as far as he did in such little time, especially without having been exposed by someone, but... what if the reason he'd lied about his 'uncle' had been because that favour wasn't quite what he'd like it to be, and he'd felt he might need that extra leverage with me on account of it? For all I knew, he may have fallen out of favour recently. For all I knew, some of his underhanded dealings, such as pimping out vulnerable young women, may have recently caused the upper echelons some embarrassing, unwanted attention, even if it had just been baseless suspicions and questions.

Was it possible? Did I dare proceed on such an assumption? Underestimating an opponent, especially one like the Major, could be fatal, especially for me and my parents. As I've said, I wasn't exactly the dangerous predator in this game.

Of course, now that his 'uncle' was off the board, how vulnerable were my parents? Yes, he could still ruin me with his recording of me masturbating for him, and he could certainly embarrass the hell out of Mom and Dad with it, but could he actually affect their careers? I doubted it. I doubted it very much, no matter what sway he may, or may not have held with the upper ranks.

So, it seemed that my personal position wasn't that much better, but I at least had the freedom to move without having to worry about any consequences my parents might suffer, the only real consequences now being the death of my own career.

Taking another drink, I turned and walked back to the counter, again regarding my uniform where it lay on the floor and, for the first time in my life, I questioned it. I questioned whether or not I belonged in it, considering some of the things I'd recently done, such as the incitation and participation in an incestuous orgy with the Bennetts. Not to mention physically beating and raping a woman's husband with her. That could be jail time.

I quickly finished what was in the glass, telling myself that the average man, especially a former Muslim misogynist, would probably never report such a thing.

Walking around the counter to the refrigerator, I began mixing another drink, thinking of my connection to that uniform in a different light. What with all that Donna had said about the Salvation Army in addition to what my father had always preached about them, especially today and the personal viewpoint I now had, I suddenly had to wonder if that uniform belonged on me, and not the other way around. I mean, slut or no, I was no Major Hurdle and would certainly never condone another officer operating the way he did, but the upper echelons themselves seemed to have little or no problem with it.

Despite my parent's roles in uniform, those of serving God and helping people without the trappings of rank and ambition, two trappings of which I was personally guilty, I couldn't help but think again of what Donna had told me. She'd explained that I didn't belong to the Army, but that the Army only held a place in my life, and only for as long as I wanted it there. I had the power, not them, and my conversation with Dad had unexpectedly helped me to see her point in a different light, one that compared my ethics with those that my uniform was coming to represent.

I took a sip from the fresh drink and sighed, aware of how I was only telling myself what I wanted to hear, but ruling that none of this was priority in any case. The Major still had me under his thumb, and I had to get out from under it. It then occurred to me that, having the ability that I strongly suspected she did, Donna could actually fix this situation for me. Easily. In fact, she may have even already done so the day before. Then again, if she did have this ability to control people's minds and, given how I knew she felt about me, why hadn't she done so before now? Did she want me to deal with my own problems? Did she want the situation to spit me out of the ranks on its own so that I could never blame her for having led me away from my career?

So, failing some sort of reply to my text, or until my eventual reunion with her the next morning, all I could say for sure in terms of the situation regarding my boss was that he was no longer quite the Major Hurdle he'd been for me.

With this thought, I wandered down the hall and into the bathroom, starting a much needed bath with my smartphone safely on the vanity. By the time it was ready, I had a fresh drink, carefully setting it on a little stand beside the tub before stepping into the bubbly, hot water without removing my garters. I figured they'd need a good washing too and, besides that, it turned me on a little to be wearing something in the tub.

"Mmmmm," I hummed as I stretched out in the glorious heat. "Sooo nice..."

I slowly rubbed my body down with my hands under the water, sides, thighs, calves, taking extra time with my pussy and boobs, twisting and pulling at my nipples for a little while as I remembered Darren screwing his mother in the missionary position on the floor. He liked to fuck hard and fast, and his mother had certainly appreciated that. She even appreciated watching him do it to Haley from behind while her father fucked her mouth. She came so hard watching that as I licked her pussy, Sumitra sucking her enormous boobs.

Another fun highlight was when Margie actually held her daughter down so that Joel could slowly force that big, beautiful cock right up her tush. Well, Haley did seem to have an anal fetish and, while Darren's cock down her throat probably prevented her high pitched screams from shattering the windows, there was no doubt that she loved it.

That family would never be the same again.

This brought my thoughts back around to Donna, to the almost certainty that none of the fun we'd had with the Bennetts would have ever happened without her. She'd changed them somehow, like she had the Rahmans, probably on the very first day she'd met them and, from there, we'd all been enjoying our hasty trip down the slippery slope of transgression.

Ameaner
Ameaner
1,252 Followers