Rescuing Melissa (ALPHA TEAM: Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists)

3. Mint Cookies

THREE

Mint Cookies

PIERCE

Two Girl Scouts greeted me at the front door. A little girl in an adorable Brownie vest held hands with another girl wearing a green sash. Their pressed outfits beamed with neatly sewn badges.

“Well, hello.” A grin stretched across my face. Little girls were full of such promise for the powerful women they would one day become. A strength I would challenge until they broke beneath me.

I crouched down, getting eye-to-eye, where I would be less threatening. The Brownie had a lock of hair curling at the corner of her eye. My fingers twitched with the need to brush the hairs away from her face. A woman supervised the girls from the curb, probably the mother. My fingers clenched, and then I raised my hand to wave. She returned my wave with a shy one of her own.

So friendly and trusting.

So naive and stupid.

Her children were younger versions of herself and turned my thoughts in delectable directions. I couldn’t have the girls—they were too young, and I had standards—but the woman held promise.

“What can I do for you?” I surveyed the gathering clouds, wondering why two little girls would be out when it was about to storm.

The girl in green grasped her sister’s hand. “We’re selling Girl Scout cookies, sir. Would you like to buy some?” She glanced up at the gray sky. “Mama says we have a little while before the storm, and we have a…” Her face scrunched up, “…q-quota to reach.”

I loved the way her mouth worked out the unfamiliar sounds of such a big word.

“A quota? I’d love to.” I pitched my voice high and brought my hands over my heart, knowing it would make the girls smile.

The Brownie giggled.

I gave her a wink. “I love Girl Scout cookies. Please tell me you have Thin Mints. I love them.”

The older girl’s expression brightened, but it was her sister with the brown vest who answered.

“Yes, s-sir. We have Thin Mints.”

I wanted to tweak her nose, but the watchful mother might not appreciate me touching her daughter. The little girl was so damn adorable with her pigtails and innocent eyes; her cuteness factor was off the charts. I couldn’t help myself and leaned close to inhale her warm, innocent scent.

Her older sister drew back, but I expected the reaction. As charming as I was, some females, the smart ones, pulled away, acting instinctively for self-preservation. I sensed great intelligence in my green-sashed friend.

“May I please have ten boxes?”

“Ten boxes, ss-sir?” The little girl’s brown eyes brightened. She jumped up and down.

“Oh, yes. Ten.” I fished for my wallet and pulled out two crisp, fifty dollar bills. “Here, this should cover it.”

The little girl screwed her face up as she tried to do the math, failed, and referenced a card in her hand. “It’s five dollars a box, sir. That’s fifty dollars.” She stared at the money and pulled at her ear as she worked out the math. “That’s too much.”

I couldn’t resist. I tweaked her nose.

She grinned and gave me the most delicious giggle.

“Fifty for the cookies and fifty for your troop.” I pointed to her mother standing on the curb. “You tell your mama to take you somewhere extra special. Good girls deserve special treats, don’t you think?”

The advancing storm darkened the sky. I loved thunderstorms in springtime. The musty smell of fresh rain reminded me of the delectable scents below the house.

“Oh, yes, sir.” The little Brownie clapped her tiny hands.

Her older sister glanced over her shoulder. “I need to check if we have ten boxes.”

I offered the Brownie the cash, but her sister yanked the money out of my hand. That little girl needed a spanking.

“I’ll wait here,” I said. “Go get my cookies while I chat with your sister.”

The older one wrinkled her nose and twisted her lips, “Anna, you get the cookies. I’ll wait here.” She handed Anna the cash.

My little Brownie, Anna, twisted her mouth into a pout, but she turned and obeyed at the stern look from her sister. Why was it women always felt the need to tell others what to do? Anna’s sister needed to mind her own business and let Anna do what she wanted.

As Anna ran to her mother, I made small talk with her sister. “How old are you?”

“I’m eleven.” Her arms crossed over a blossoming chest.

Girls seemed to mature at younger and younger ages. Still, this girl was too young for my tastes. Maybe several years down the road—after she grew those tiny nubs into breasts—I’d take her as one of my princesses. Anna’s sister had a backbone.

I loved a challenge. She probably got that quality from her mother.

The girl and I traded silence while Anna skipped down the path to the curb, stopping to pick up an earthworm and toss the poor creature in the grass.

Her mother’s lips formed an ‘O’ in surprise after the Brownie handed over the cash, and my attention focused hard on that mouth.

I had no use for the girls, but there were several ways I could use their mother.

Anna’s sister shifted a step back, placing more distance between us. We waited for their mother to get the cookies out of the trunk of the car. Little Anna balanced ten boxes of Thin Mints in her arms as she carefully walked back to my door.

“Sir,” the little girl said with pride, “your cookies.”

I relieved her of her burden. My fingers skated across the buttery smoothness of her skin, and a shiver worked its way down my back. I straightened and waved to the girls’ mother, raising my voice so she could hear me. “Thank you. I’m so happy you stopped by.”

A light pattering of rain fell.

“You better hurry,” I said to the girls. “You want to beat the rain.”

The little Brownie flapped her hand goodbye. Her sister spun in a huff.

I needed to introduce myself to their mother.

The sky dumped rain, and I stayed under cover of the porch. The girls squealed as their mother waved them to the car.

Ah, another time then.

The girls ran down my sidewalk, screeching as rain saturated their clothes. I waved goodbye to their mother and closed my front door.

Thin Mints were best served cold, but I’d never been good at denying myself. I ripped open a pack and shoved two cookies into my mouth. My eyes closed when the minty chocolate melted on my tongue.

For a moment, I wondered if my princesses might appreciate the cookies, but they hadn’t behaved today.

Treats had to be earned.

Lightning flashed, followed by peals of thunder that rattled the kitchen windows—time to get back to my princesses. The storm would make them uncomfortable and scared, and they depended on me to keep them safe.

The wind whipped through the street and hail bounced and skittered on the lawn. My attention shifted back to the kitchen counter where the morning paper rested. I re-read the headline for the hundredth time.

Stay of Execution Denied for Fairytale Killer

Today, the world would lose a great man, but I would carry on his work. He would find peace while I created a masterpiece.

I went to the door leading down to my basement. I opened it, walked through, and turned to fasten the lock behind me, checking to make sure it was secure.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

There was another door at the bottom of the stairs. I hummed as I unlocked and then refastened this lock, counting out loud. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.”

Through my basement and past the racks holding my wine collection, I hummed with anticipation. A third door was hidden from view behind the stacks of wine.

I checked the lock.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Best not to make a mistake.

Hehadn’t been so careful and would pay for that error with his life. That would never happen to me. I was too methodical and smarter than my mentor.

Satisfied all was well, I pushed aside the rack of wine to reveal the third door. This door had a combination lock, and I spun the dial six times then stepped into the tunnel.

The ceiling was low here, and I stooped to avoid hitting my head. The rich scents of earth and loam greeted me, and I breathed in deep. The musty smell reminded me of home. A long passage extended before me, years of work hacking a tunnel out of the dirt. Rough-hewn timbers braced the walls and ceiling. A string of bulbs lit the distance.

This was my slice of heaven, a kingdom for a prince, and his most precious possessions.

Six sacred obligations all modeled after the great work of my mentor.

The key in my pocket opened the last door with a soft snick of metal on metal. I flicked on the lights, and my dungeon greeted me with a welcoming glow and the whimpers of my princesses.

I straightened to my full height and stretched. Split roughly into thirds, the modified survival shelter held the king bed closest to the door. Eight cages occupied the middle third of the room, four on each side. I kept an open space in the back where I’d anchored chains into the stone wall and hung my toys against the wall.

Unlike the tunnel, I’d braced the insides of this room with metal sheeting and steel supports. While dirt was an excellent insulator, I’d nearly lost my first two princesses to hypothermia. I hadn’t realized how cold they would get living underground.

I’d installed a raised wooden floor. And in addition to lights, I granted them the luxury of heat. How comfortable they remained depended on how well they behaved. They had their chamber pots, and a chore rotation to keep the place neat and tidy.

I swore I’d never again risk the health of my princesses because of my stupidity.

A princess was waiting for my return. I’d left her chained to the king-sized bed. But first, I needed to lock the door from the inside.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

I sighed. We were once again whole: a prince and his princesses.

Cinderella should have greeted me with a smile, but she glared at me instead.

A muscle ticked in my jaw. “Is this how you greet your Prince Charming?” I slapped her face, leaving a red handprint.

Always the noisy one, Cinderella screamed.

My cock responded, throbbing with anticipation and thickening with need.

I slapped her again because it felt good.

Whimpers sounded from the cages, but I didn’t spare a look for my other princesses. This was Cinderella’s moment.

The others would serve when it was their turn.

Today, I celebrated the end of a great man’s life. I would take my princesses in the same orderHetook his; a memorial of sorts to a man I admired.

Cinderella’s brilliant blue eyes brimmed with tears and flicked to mine before jerking away. She knew better than to gaze upon my face. Her tears fell in fat juicy drops, speeding up my heartbeat and stiffening my aching cock. She struggled to hold back her sobs and failed.

I drank in her terror, letting it stoke my desires, feeding that primal need inside.

“Tsk, tsk,” I chided. “You’re a mess.”

The tears had ruined her makeup.

I held a mirror to let her see how she’d smeared her lipstick and how her mascara had run.

Under the glow of the incandescent bulbs, black rivers streamed down her cheeks. That last slap smeared her ruby lipstick, and the smudge left a streak two shades brighter than the ones made by my palm.

Golden curls spilled over her shoulders and rested upon her bare breasts. I couldn’t resist. I took her nipples and squeezed, drawing out a hiss from between her gritted teeth. The sound made my fingers dig into her soft flesh, where they left dark splotches on her pillowy breasts.

“Are you allowed to make a sound?”

We had been through this before. I was tired of repeating myself. Training was such a difficult task, but fortunately, I had plenty of patience.

“My Prince,” she cried. “Forgive me.”

My arousal throbbed. I had finished with the first princess less than an hour ago. The potency of my purpose settled in the ache of my balls. I’d taken medication to make sure I would be able to service all six before midnight struck.

“Remember, no teeth scraping my skin.” I unfastened my pants.

Ah, I’d almost forgotten. Leaning to the side of the bed, I flicked on the video camera. My journey needed to be documented.

With a grip on her hair, I pulled her head forward. Her chains clinked and rattled.

Behind me, Red Riding Hood sobbed. I ignored her. She had been placed back in her cage after a satisfying beating. A sniffle came from Sleeping Beauty strapped in the corner. Goldilocks remained quiet, but then, I had gagged her. Gretel was still passed out in her cage. She had been the first I’d taken today. She’d fought my dominance, and I took her harder than I would have liked.

Belle, my beautiful Belle, shuffled in her cage. She remained quiet while I made use of Cinderella. Unlike the others, I didn’t chain her when she was in her cage. She was the perfect princess and understood how to behave.

She’d been my first, but I would take her last.

Cinderella’s delicious mouth sought my pleasure. My release gathered at the base of my spine, tickling my balls, then exploded outward in a rush. I crumpled over Cinderella as my vision dimmed. I hated it when I passed out.

I roused a minute or two later—my one flaw. I’d been teased about it before, but that never happened anymore.

Cinderella deserved a reward.

A legend died today, but I would carry on my mentor’s torch. He thought my plan fitting and had given his blessing.

I would have my Queen.