Page 67 of The Southern Submission

She glares at me, but I ignore it as I open a program called Orion that hunts through code looking for backdoors and weaknesses to break into websites. I run it now as I pull up another program called Cyclopes that will virtually smash security protocols to remove any trace of my cyber breaking and entry from watchful eyes. A third program, Antaeus, wrestles control away from whoever is holding a site and kicks them out, allowing me to take over. These are a few of my tech babies I’ve created and they’re doing my work as Ainsley stares over my shoulder while I set everything into motion.

“I shouldn’t be surprised by your tech skills, yet here I am,” she muses softly, shaking her head.

“You’re going to be thanking me for my tech skills shortly.” I lean over and kiss her forehead, reassuring her we’ll be okay. We’ll get through this. I’ll make sure of it.

Orion breaches suddenly, quickly followed by Cyclopes shutting down any encryption and security measures Archer may have put in place, and Antaeus gains control of the site, all in rapid succession. I dig around the source code, looking for anything he may have planted while in control of the site, removing a few unnecessary bugs and code he’s fucked with. Now it’s time to write better security protocols that’ll keep him out for good. I spend a few minutes intent on my task,beefing up her site in a way Archer only wishes he could. I install my own program for defense called Trident that uses a three-pronged staged set of advances that fuck with anyone attempting to breach a site and turn every hack and maneuver back on them, allowing me access into their space if I want it. I have this as part of the Olympus security system on our servers, too, so she’s getting every protection I can provide. Once all is in place, I reset her username and password.

“Try Buttercup01 for the username and AsUW1sh!,” I say, instructing her on where to add capitals and numbers.

“Princess Bride references, really?”

“You’re my Princess. Might as well make it one who’s a feisty Domme.”

“What do you mean, Domme?”

Oh, this will be fun. “I have a theory from the lens of my particular interests. Princess Buttercup is absolutely a Dominant and Wesley is her service submissive. Everything he does is to please Buttercup in some way. His catchphrase isas you wish.How much more submissive can you get? Even when Wesley goes off to sea and becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts, his whole goal is to come back with enough money to set them up so he can be with her, ideally, to serve her. Saving her from Humperdink is his greatest act of service, and even when he’s tortured, he says he was doing it fortrue love. That man was a sub who had it bad. Buttercup was in control of their relationship, and he submitted to her freely, because that made him happiest.”

She shakes her head at me and types in the username and password I gave her. “It worked! I didn’t think I’d ever get this back.” Her voice is a mix of awe and regret, and I know it’s because of the hurt the site has caused.

“Take that brutal fucking post of his down now. I neverwant to see what he wrote again. The things I’ll do that son of a bitch are certifiable.”

“He’s not worth anything you could consider doing. He’s a pathetic, little man who puts others down so he can feel better about himself. Besides, your dick is way bigger and he never made me come.”

I look over quickly and see her looking down at her hands where they rest on her keyboard. “I’ll make it up to you. For every orgasm you missed out on when you were with him, I’ll give you three.”

“I actually believe you will. You’ve been really good at fulfilling all of your filthy promises this far.” She navigates through her site and deletes the nasty post Archer created, a disgusted look on her face as she reads over the vile words again. I’ll have to scrub it from the internet because it’s probably been shared or reposted in a number of places.

Fuck, I’ll kill the punk ass kid for the things he said about her. About us. The way he degraded her is far beyond anything we’d use in our own play, despite many of the words being the same. His use of words like whore and slut were to tear her down, hurt her, and make her feel small. My use is to build her up and make her feel powerful in her sexuality. We take back the words and give them new meaning that’s all about our trust and me seeing her as a goddess when I call her my cumslut, my cockwhore, my fucktoy. She preens under the words that are anything but insults when we use them in the bedroom. For Archer to undermine the trust we’ve built and to use my playful endearments as slurs is unforgivable. His sins are piling up and I’ll be the one to cast judgment and issue punishment when I get my hands on him.

While she spends time cleaning up her site, I capture the site backup, prepared to send it to the FBI contact we workedwith throughout the cyber attack and another contact who helped put Archer’s father behind bars for his own, more violent, attack on Olympus. I include information on how it was obtained, and how we can leverage this. But I don’t hit send. I want a little time with the scumbag who put his hands on my girl and then thought it wise to publicly humiliate her first.

It doesn’t take long for the fallout of the Haute List post to reach mainstream news. I wake up to notifications about Olympus, my family, and mostly, me. Our relationship starting as fake is being speculated on and articles are questioning if my personal choices reflect our business practices. My phone vibrates again and I slip out of bed to not wake Ainsley, leaving her curled up with the dawn light making her golden hair shine across my pillows. I look at my phone and see the group chat with my brothers already going off.

Zander: Your girl fucked us. You knew better than to get in with a shitty journalist who happened to be behind the worst gossip site known to man.

I type back quickly, not about to let him start in on her.

Me: Talk shit about Ainsley again and I’ll release the photos of you with acne and a bowl cut and lock Harlowe out of her social media accounts.

Zander: Fuck, I forgot about thatunfortunate haircut. I thought I got rid of everything.

Me: I can find anything on the internet and always have shit to hold over you and Hayes. Why are you texting so early when you should be curled up with your wife?

Zander: The city is getting cold feet for our arena plans. There were emails from zoning and planning saying they needed to “reevaluate the speed at which our project is being pushed." They don’t trust us after that bad press Ainsley caused. Turn this shit around now before we lose out on billions.

Me: This is your last warning, Ainsley isn’t your scapegoat and I’ll punch your fucking face when I see you if you continue with this. Besides, Ainsley didn't write that post about herself or put us in any sort of situation we wouldn’t have gotten in ourselves.

Zander: It’s still her fault for the Haute List and making us look like fools because you got into a fake fucking relationship with her.

Me: Blame Archer Donovan. He’s the cause of yet another issue for us. Thankfully, Ainsley, my beautiful goddess, love of my life, is saving our asses and he’s about to learn the hard way why you don't mess with Olympus.

Hayes: What the fuck could she do to help? He annihilated her in that post. Her credibility is ruined and she’ll never be taken seriously again. Good thing you’re still willing to take care of her through this fake-ass thing or she’d be running for the hills.

I bristle as I move into the kitchen to get the coffee started so I can let it cool for Ainsley’s iced coffee. So both of them are up and after my girl now. They’re going to feel my wrath if this is how they want to start the day. Ainsley isn't ruined, she’s just getting started, and I’m going to make sure she has every opportunity to rise to the occasion now.

Me: I’m going to ignore both of you idiots, but know I won't stand for either of you talking shit about her, got it? That’s my fucking girl. What we have is real, no matter how it started or what’s happened since.

I take a deep breath, pushing through the anger and irritation they bring out in me. Normally I can handle so much more from them, and would be pushing one or both of my brothers instead of the other way around to see what kindof reaction I’d get. Instead, I’m in this protective headspace ready to fight them over their words about the woman in my bed who needs to be treated gently after everything she’s gone through. I put one of Ainsley’s pink to-go mugs of coffee in the refrigerator to cool. It’s these little, normal things that help ground me and bring me back to rationality before I reply.

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