Free Invasion by Mary E. Palmerin, Poppet Page A

depleted half her supply of the magic potion.
    Laundry is done, and my clothes are ironed. Seems I have a hidden talent and am the world’s best housekeeper. Speaking of which, she has one. This could be the thorn in my side and possibly my next victim – time will tell. Freda has December off because Carly is away, and then it’s family time for most of the nation. She’s a nice boss because I read her budget sheet and she gave Freda a $3000 bonus for xmas. So the weird woman also has a generosity gene.
    Her intimates, sheets and towels, have all been laundered with hydrogen peroxide, the house swabbed clean with it with such meticulous attention to detail that I think I might’ve had a past life scrubbing boat decks with the tiny brush once supplied to clean the needle on a vinyl record player. Then I had to move through this cozy abode to switch on those stupid plug in aroma diffusers, to camouflage the sterile scent of my cleaning spree and the OCD need to clean away every fingerprint I’ve recklessly left on everything.
    I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, opening and closing CD cases, DVD cases, going through the supplies in the freezer. Now at least I know why she has so many frozen meals, she’s preparing for Armageddon – or the Apocalypse.
    While sweeping the house like a mafia mechanic (cleaner) I came across something I should’ve spotted the first time I did recon in here. I don’t know how I missed it, but to be safe I’ve turned the device so it has no sound feed and is staring at a brick wall. I am nothing if not efficient and detail oriented. And I am now intimately acquainted with each nook and cranny of Carly’s crib.
    I’ve watched every one of her home DVDs; I know how she likes her sex, know she’s open to almost anything including bondage, masochism and anal, and have become mildly obsessed with thirty-two year old Carly Carmichael and her fetishes.
    As part of my daily homework (research your target until you know more about them than they do), I booted up her computer and read through her emails, scouring the breakup between her and Mark. They got divorced four months ago, and by the looks of her calendar and emails has buried herself in work.
    She negotiates for the recovery of missing women, suspected to be abducted into human trafficking rings. Amnesty International is her life now, well that and the rabbit with three way penetration in her bedside drawer. She even has stimulating lube for extra heat and tingle. I’m wondering if that goes in her ass or the fuck puck.
    For two weeks I’ve made myself intimately familiar with the contents on her Macbook, and the porn on her hard-drive was eye opening. She has it buried in an invisible folder in her INVOICES partition; I have had an education. I’ve had a digital schooling of men (and women) docking and porting, found her snuff porn collection, and discovered what she needed the piercing gun for.
    She has a nude collection of selfies, particularly close ups of her boning herself with a roided dildo, and both meat flaps have piercings. She also has one in the hood above the clit, holding it up and away from her ‘business’. Well well, that little lady must be in a permanent state of wet and wanton.
    I love her, she turns me on like a meat grinder. Every second I’m staring and discovering I’m so painfully engorged all it takes is a firm hand and her computer was formally baptized David’s Cum Cup.
    Sitting in her lumbar support leather office chair I found the shit not burned to DVD for public consumption in the lounge. I’m not sure if Carly is altogether sane. She’s filmed herself, for someone else or for herself I can’t be sure, but it’s a revelation that has me itching for a rabid fuck and a spot of mayhem.
    She harnesses her neck to a dog leash tied to the wrought iron headboard of the bed in the second bedroom. It has a knob protrusion in the center of the elaborate metal decorations, and she does doggy on