The Skarlette One

As a responsible time-travelling superheroine, Cyberesque always did her best to research the historical period she was traveling to. However, proper research takes time and effort and so much reading, she was always on the lookout for better ways.

That’s when she found the little black book. Small enough to fit inside a clutch, slender enough to hold in one hand, the little black book always had the exact information she needed at the very instant she looked. The circuitry barely visible against the binding and the streamlined calligraphy of the text seemed to indicate craftsmanship by some far-future society. It was probably constructed by a time traveler specifically for this purpose: to blend into nearly any point in history after the fall of Rome and provide perfect research. From the slant of the elegant letters, Cyberesque couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps a future version of herself had made the book for her use.

With the little black book, Cyberesque always had the right answers at her fingertips. It helped her to revel in the Renaissance, delve into the Depression, and explore the Elizabethan Age. The book never steered her wrong.

So when she came to the 1940s and the book told Cyberesque that G.I.’s returning from the war liked their girls meek and submissive, she played along. Keeping her eyes demurely downcast, she slipped out of her frock and sank to her knees. Even when she wanted to slow down, the book had told her to follow her man’s every whim. Hands clasped behind her back as helplessly as if they’d been tied, she let him touch her wherever he liked. Over and over, her mystery date brought her to climax. The book had instructed her to embrace the dreamy openness of post-orgasmic bliss; it was the style of the times.

With her eyes rolled back, Cyberesque could do nothing but let the man’s words slip deep into her mind. “I’m so proud of you for following the little black book so very closely, Cyberesque. My fellows mocked my plan. ‘Professor Patriarchy,’ they said, ‘you’ll never be able to capture the girl with a book, let alone enslave her.’ But we’ll show them, won’t we, my dear? You’re mine so deeply that you’ll take my little black book and plant it where your younger self found it. Even though you know it will start the chain of causality that makes you my slave, you won’t be able to resist, will you?”

Professor Patriarchy flexed one finger that was buried deep inside Cyberesque’s dripping crease. Her body trembled as she came, moaning, “I obey Professor Patriarchy.”

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