On board DOMINATRIX tied up at Port McNeill Harbor 8:30 AM-JUNE 25, 2104

I looked at her, with my arms crossed, waiting for her to say something and when she finally spoke, she was surprisingly apologetic; “I did not lie to you Mack. Everything I told you about me is true.” I couldn’t help spitting out venomous sarcasm, “Well you left out a couple of important details…like what your real name is; oh and like you’re a spook that is about as black as a spook can get. Oh and were you ever going to get around to just casually mention that you’re probably worth more than an entire fucking aircraft carrier battle group?”

Ok so as the tour guide for gilt trips, I found out my rant didn’t work so well on her and I didn’t know that yet while I was ranting, but I was about to find out the hard way. She looked me up and down for some 30 seconds and then in a very matter of fact way said, “Perhaps I miss-judged your level of intelligence, Mack.” “And just what in holy fucking hell is that supposed to mean?” I spit out more venom. “What it means, Mack, is that I find good reason to question your judgment and your rational decision making ability if you actually think that I am somehow bound to reveal all the details of my existence to you after knowing you for a grand total of 6 ½ hours. It would take me weeks to decompress all of the relevant data and try to communicate it to you and much of that is so classified that your life could be in jeopardy for even possessing that knowledge.”

I let out a heavy sigh and then fell on my sword, so to speak, “I see your point…I spoke without thinking. I thought…I sort of felt betrayed. I’m sorry.” I sat down on the bed feeling like I’d just stepped on my dick. “Cassandra, my name is Cassandra, Mack.” She sat down next to me close enough that I could feel her warmth against me and then she looked right into my eyes and said, “I am the prototype, Mack, I am the only one, the first and last of my kind and there are no others like me. There were earlier versions in the research program that led to my development, but they were each destroyed, one at a time by enemy agents in the field, primarily because they each were flawed in some way that the designers failed to foresee.” “What happened to you…Cassandra?” I asked with legitimate concern. She hesitated and I could tell she was formulating how she was going to craft her response and then she looked back into my eyes again and said, “My mission was to gather information using a large portfolio of undercover identities. My ethics center, the area of my central brain complex that helps me know what the difference between right and wrong was supposed to have a prohibition from taking a human life.” She paused in thought again and then she slowly laid her head on my chest and in a tone that was like a confession she said, “You see, Mack, there are some people that are completely amoral and are total sociopaths without a shred of redeeming value to their miserable existence. The first time that I took a life, I knew that I would be saving countless innocents…by the hundreds of thousands. So when I punched his larynx up into the back of his skull and then broke his spine, I knew that I had done humanity a service.” Thinking I finally understood her, I offered, “I understand how you feel Cassandra; I have felt the same way, but let me tell you what I have found. People like you and I Cassandra, it is our duty to protect the innocents and if the blood of the evil needs spilling now and then, it is a small price to pay for justice and freedom.” She interrupted me and implored me to listen to her, “Please Mack, I am not like you and I cannot justify killing the same way that you do. I knew that if my case officer found out what I had actually done, that my existence could be terminated as a matter of policy.” “Is that why you went black?” I asked and she explained, “I needed answers, Mack, I needed help. So I took a gamble…” I cut her off and said, “Gamble…what is there about you that even allows you to gamble?”

She kissed me and suddenly my righteous indignation had vanished and I felt genuine love in its place; love that I have not felt in years and then I heard her whisper, “I gambled with you Mack…I gambled my very existence with you. It was a good gamble, do you agree?” She was right, of course, which is why we were in Port McNeill in the first place. Then she added, “And I am proud of you Mack. You have…I believe the idiom…is juice…yes Mack, you have juice! You are Admiral Bedford’s protégé`. Do you not have a direct line to the Prime Minister?” I couldn’t help but laugh at that and guffawed, “He asked the Admiral what set me apart from the Pirates that I was fighting. All that the Admiral seemed to be able to muster up was that it was much better to have me working for Canada than against her. When the Prime Minister said he wanted to meet me, the Admiral suggested that it would be safer for me to remain in relative obscurity. So no, I have no way to actually contact the government, except though the Admiral.”

I realized that I had strayed a long ways from what she and I had talked about earlier this morning so I changed the subject and said, “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other better on the way back home. So Cassandra, if you still want your lovely body cleaned out, perhaps you’ll give me some instructions on how not to get electrocuted in the process.” “First Mack, let me allay your fears because my charging port is FAIL-SAFE and can only be activated by the special keyed three pronged digital sequence of my charging nozzle. It is hermetically sealed Mack; I am fully functional when I have been able to intake all of the pure ingredients that I need to give me bodily fluids. Cassandra was sending a powerful mix of emotions to me that made me aware of the root of my cock somewhere deep in my ass; I involuntarily flexed several times and I had an intense erection that figured was not going to get taken care of soon. I got undressed, so I wouldn’t get bound up in my clothes and then went into the tool area so that I could put together some type of equipment and started getting it set up that I could sterilize Cassandra.

As I measured two tablespoons of biodegradable soap and a cup of bleach, and filled the 3 liter open topped plastic can, with a pump attached, of what I judged to be water about 110 degrees from the sink, I was talking to Cassandra so that she was prepared for the procedure that I was going to administer,…“The hose is ¼ inch medical grade tubing and I am attaching an piece of aluminum that I just heated and smoothed into a nozzle and then anodized it; that should be ok for you, honey.” “Honey”, she cooed, “That is a colloquial term of endearment, Mack?” She asked. I looked back at her and smiled and just said, “That’s right Cassandra. So, sweetheart”…I looked over at her as she cocked her head and I smiled at her and nodded and then continued, “The marine sanitation device, which is hooked to this toilet, and behind this plastic removable bulkhead, is an old tried and true method that was invented in the late 20th century. This one that came installed on Dominatrix consists of six stages of chambered macerators, each with a heavy set of stainless steel plates that conducts 75 amps of 24 volt dc power into the surrounding salt water as the effluent is being macerated, which temporarily produces hypochlorous acid from the ions in the water. That makes one of the most powerful bactericides known, which will also defeat all known viruses.”

So I told her, “Since you’re not going to expel actual waste, I’m going to have you expel in the shower and then I’ll just pump it over the side. She nodded her understanding and then I asked her, “Have you ever been cleaned out like this before?” She looked at me somewhat contemptuously and said, “Isamu gave me the ability to control my senses with my own internal calibration and he gave me the ability to love and to feel love, but his idea of this kind of thing was very painful and when I was tied down with ropes that were so tight, I could not generate enough torque to break free, so I had to endure what he injected in me.”

“Cassandra…I have no intention of hurting you. Perhaps I can make it feel kind of sensuous for you?” It was not really a question; it was more of a statement. She cocked her head, as she looked back at me and then spoke as a matter of fact, “That is incongruous with what I just saw you put in that!” I turned the can upside down and dumped out the contents in the shower and turned to make up a milder solution that was just warm. She watched me intently and when I came up to her as she sat on the edge of the bed, I propped the can on a shelf.

Then I sat down beside her, embraced her and as I kissed her, she pouted, “My mouth is not moist!” I soothed, “Take some of mine” and I stuck my tongue in her mouth and slowly began to salivate, feeding it to her in an odd mouth-to-mouth feeding that she seemed to enjoy exclaiming when I was finished, “I can taste you…honey.” I said, “Are you saying that I taste like the sweet, highly viscous fluid that bees produce or are you using a colloquial term of endearment?” “Humor…the absolute lightness of being”, she smiled and she put head against mine. For the first time, I realized that she was transmitting what she was feeling directly into my mind. It was a foreign feeling, almost a little animalistic, and partly like a long range message, almost as if it had come across space and time from the Martian Colony on the Tharsis Plateau, but it was pleasant. She wanted to be with me, I could sense that. She wanted to make me happy and I could sense that too. She had been intently studying my facial expressions and my body language in an attempt to understand as much about me as she could. I said, “I need you to set your sensory calibration to the very fine, Cassandra, as fine as you can get it.” She cautiously said, “It will take a few moments.” I chimed, “Then we’ll have these moments to remember…” She searched her thoughts and said, “Was that humor too, Mack?” My retort was instantaneous, “Apparently not.” She gave me the incongruous look again.

I thought, well of course, but I still had to ask, “I understand why you would have a realistic feeling vagina, Cassie. So why do you have an anal sphincter that feels fleshy and tight like the real thing?” As I kept probing her with the nozzle and her reflex noticeably lessoned, she began to reply, “I was originally made that way because many of my targets were Latin American, Mediterranean, or Middle Eastern decent and it was thought that if I let them” she was momentarily interrupted as the nozzle finally entered her and she shuddered with an obvious heavy clinch uttering, “Ehhooohh” then in a moment she continued, “have anal sex with me that they would trust my identity more and, perhaps, unwittingly reveal some of their secrets to me.” I asked, “Is that a cultural thing that I am not aware of?” She said in a very matter of fact way, “A large part of those populations still use anal sex for contraception, although it is not openly acknowledged because there are still religious taboos against the common practice. So when a man finds a woman who is not only willing to engage in that type of contraception, but she can actually find pleasure from it, she is very sought after and men are willing to make extraordinary sacrifices to be with her. In my case though, I was more of an actress in the early days before I met Dr. Kobayashi.”

“Are you ready?” I was giving her a warning more than asking her permission and before she responded, I began to pump the contraption that I had just built so I could see how she handled the initial rush. “Eh…oh…Mack…” was her only utterance and then I slowed the pumping down…way down. Cassandra started to softly gyrate her pelvic muscles (or what passed for that inside her) and in anther moment, she turned around to look at me and with facial expressions that told me she was struggling but was still ok. She asked, “Is this ok for you, my Mack?” I answered her with a statement and a question, “You’re a beautiful and very sensuous woman Cassandra, and it gives me pleasure to help you like this, but what is most important to me is how you’re doing and what you’re feeling.” She paused before answering, “I am at the very sensuous feeling stage and I am now aware of the distension of my abdomen. This enema is beginning to feel uncomfortable.” I soothed, “Take as much as you can, but before you feel pain, tell me to stop and I will.” When she asked me to stop, I did and then helped her into the shower so she could expel. I implored, “Ok Emma, don’t strain, just push it out slowly.” She deadpanned, “I am not built that way Mack! I do not have an elimination process, remember?” We got her all cleaned out and I helped her elimination process along be squeezing on her abdomen, which she seemed to think as a sensuous thing for me to do for her. I repeated the process as a vaginal douche, which easily drained out of her. Then we started to prepare to get underway.

I wanted her out of sight while we cleared Port McNeill, but she could stand in the companionway and talk to me thru the open hatchway while we were still close in. There was no need to clear with the Harbormaster, as I had greased the skids, so to speak, when I first arrived. The small 45 horse diesel auxiliary was powered by algae based bio-diesel that I also made at the Butte Inlet Compound and I only used it in very tight spots, or for clearing port as we were now doing. At ½ mile out from Port McNeill, I set the wing to maximize a broad reach and then set a light asymmetrical spinnaker in the freshening breeze coming in from the Gulf of Alaska. 2 hours later we were off Hardwicke Island sailing at 21 knots and making 28 knots over the bottom. She had some of my clothes on and as she sat in the cockpit next to me, we talked about many things. Earlier she asked if I thought that we were being observed by a satellite and my answer was, “I don’t know of any technology that can task even a 5th generation Keyhole bird to reposition this fast and track us at this speed with resolution that can discriminate the identity of either of us from the combat robots on board. Now when we get to the Butte Inlet Compound, though, that will be a different story.”

I needed some answers to some nagging questions so I asked her, “How did you come to be involved with Isamu Kobayashi?” For the next 2 ½ hours before we docked at home, her story revealed secrets that not even the CIA was fully aware of.