The Cynthia Pryce Hack Page 3
I had no experience, but that didn’t wind up mattering. Whenever I wasn’t being the dirtiest, sluttiest, trampiest little cocksucker I could be, Mr. Schaeffer was there to tell me what to do next. I licked his balls, even. (That was so debasing, I nearly came again.) At one point he said between moans, “I’d grab your hair like handlebars and fuck your face like a second cunt if you weren’t a Pryce.” That settled it. I put a fistful of my hair in each of his hands and didn’t stop coming until he did.
“LOOK WHO’S WILD AND STUPID NOW, DADDY!” I shrieked as I was rewarded with one final spike of pleasure – beyond anything I’d ever known in my life – as he bucked me to the ground with his hips and painted my face and body with his spunk. Mr. Schaeffer probably thought I was insane, but I didn’t care. I lay there, panting, feeling each little blob cooling on my skin, my pussy still humming at the thought of being a human jizz rag.
Before you go getting all judgmental, all my code did was make her want to do things “Daddy” wouldn’t like. She’s the one who went to extremes. I’m just the lucky fellow who was there to help her work through it. For instance, it was right about here where I had to step in with this little emergency coding:
[/impulse=prolong memory]
[/impulse=get tattoo]
[checksum: Daddyhatesprotocol=1]
[/t2trender: get tattoo; Daddy’s Little Cocksucker]
[/manualoverride=1]
[/impulsefirewall]
See? I’m not heartless. Of course, if I’d known about then about her intentions to get Teri-with-an-i fired, I might not have exercised my override so generously.
I was still lying there when he returned from the bathroom, and was genuinely disappointed to see he was dressed again. “Sir? You’re sure I couldn’t interest you in fucking one of my other holes?”
“Sorry, my cab’ll be here any minute. I called it on my IB while you were having your fun.”
“While I was…?!” Oh god, he thought so little of me and my prestige as a Pryce that he was telling me to my face that my best blowjob had bored him. Take that, Daddy!
Still, since he was leaving anyway, I took a deep breath to launch a tirade about his horrifying manners and disgusting chauvinism. It had served my purposes, yes, but now that it was over, he should know what a boor he’d been. Only as I went to do so, I saw a hovertaxi land near my car on my pad outside. “Oh. Well… this was just a one time thing, to be clear. You know that, right?”
“I sure do. You’re not exactly my type, after all.” That too was going to earn him a visit from the rougher side of my tongue when he stopped me by reaching for his wallet. As I watched in confusion, he withdrew a handful of cash. And dropped it on me. One of the singles hit me between the eyes, blinding me as it was held there, stuck to a blob of the man’s jizz on my forehead.
“Hopefully that’ll cover it,” he said. “Have a good night, babe.”
Then he left. Maybe he said more before he went; I wouldn’t know, because when I thought about the look on Daddy’s face at hearing his little girl had prostituted herself for a wad of small-denomination bills, I came so hard I blacked out.
Using the code provided by my employers so they could verify my work, I downloaded her recording of the encounter to my own IB and slipped out the door. She’d snap out of it soon enough – the wavelink had a proximity trigger keyed to my IB’s freq, so by the time I was home she’d be in the shower scrubbing herself clean and trying to get her first-ever taste of cock out of her mouth. Vindictive as she was, I pitied any “Brendan Schaeffer” out there for when she tried to locate me. With luck, none of them would suffer much for my choice of alias.
Usually blowjobs don’t wear me out, but that Cindy was wild with her mouth in more ways than just the one. Just watching her work had been exhausting, honestly – she’d been like a woman possessed. Which was apt, I supposed, as the one possessing her.
So there it was, another day in the life of a brainchild. Nearly two months spent writing a code, all the hard work paying off in a single evening’s debauchery. Better yet, tomorrow I’d pass the Pryce girl’s recording on to my employer and get paid, including the usual bonus for finding another hole in their security. They’d upload a patch with some bland bullet point explaining it – I pictured Cindy glossing over the words “security upgrade to prevent third-party uploads” – and nobody would have to be the wiser.
Some people might have felt guilty, but not me. People are going to be safer because of what I did today, and it just might be the most noble contribution to her fellow man Cynthia Pryce would ever make. I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it, that was for sure. I got work in the morning, after all, and I can’t wait to get out of bed again.