disutopia
Chapter One: Welcome to Eden
A lone figure wrapped in a wind-battered cloak that blended in with the rocks and sparse vegetation, stood at the edge of a cliff as desert gusts swept through the valley below. His eyes peeked through the opening between his hood and face band. The sun had set and the soaring heat of the day was giving way to a freezing night.
In the distance, he saw a range of jagged mountains with thin, wispy snow on their peaks. Finally, his goal was in sight. Just one more night of walking. Well, probably two. He was still losing strength. He allowed himself a single sip from a hidden water bladder, pulled down his goggles, and lurched forward, limping as he followed the precarious path down, leaning on his walking stick.
As the moon began to illuminate the sand and rock formations, he was moving at a relatively slow but steady pace. He looked up at a constellation of white, blue, and violet lights drifting overhead. Yes. That was it. As long as those lights remained in the night sky and kept on moving among themselves like this, there was still hope.
They need a Fixer, he thought. Everyone needs a Fixer today. Too many things, and people, keep breaking.
With another sip and a small dose of the only painkiller he could find, he continued to trudge toward the mountain range ahead. It was going to be his last destination, one way or another. There was nowhere else he could go. For the last few thousand years the citadels under the path of the lights in the sky had been the last remaining vestiges of human civilization on Earth.
The massive metal cage slammed down on the smooth stone floor of a bright and airy loading area. The trio of sweaty, grimy slavers of The Wastes, caked in sand and machine grease, proudly joked about the fate of their trophy.
“What do you think they’re going to do with this one?” one of them asked.
“Who knows?” shrugged the second. “But... this place is full of weirdos, so I bet it’s gonna be something bizarre.”
“Maybe she’ll get to have some fun...” grinned the third with a sinister laugh.
“Knock it off!” growled their Leader. “We’re here to get the supplies and get out.”
A steady clink of a walking stick hitting the floor interrupted their conversation. Nursing a very slight limp, Martin casually strolled toward the cage. His piercing eyes were black, their irises every bit as dark as the pupils. A mop of unruly brown hair with gray streaks framed an otherwise lean face.
He crouched down and looked inside at the waif covered in grime and rags. She was chained to the cage with equipment more fit to secure a bear than a rail thin woman who had barely enough strength to sit.
“Where did you find her?” he asked.
“Just roaming around the desert like all of them,” replied the Leader. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let them touch her.”
Martin examined the head slaver. While his helpers were young, he was an older, grizzled bear of a man covered in tattoos and with several prominent implants. Dark cables looped around his shoulders, and one of his eyes was replaced with a large, bulky camera.
“Really? All on her own? Almost naked?” Martin’s brow shot up quizzically. “Seems like a lucky break for her that you fine and upstanding gentlemen came across her.”
“It is, which is why this one is worth top tier equipment,” said one of the slavers. “Young, strong, fit, healthy...”
“She can’t even sit up on her own,” scoffed Martin.
“Just let her have a nap and you’ll be surprised how feisty she gets,” chuckled another.
“I don’t have all day to negotiate with you,” Martin sighed. “Go and get your usual fee from the guards, and ask for a few extra boxes of ammo and med kits.”
He looked back into the cage, signaling that he was done with the conversation and the slavers were dismissed.
“What if we...” angrily started one of them, trying to reach for something in his tattered uniform, no doubt stolen from a corpse.
“We understand,” thundered the Leader, grabbing his subordinate by the shoulder, twisting his fingers into the pressure points.
Turning around, he pulled the overzealous minion now wincing in pain with him.
“Idiot,” he quietly hissed to the subordinate. “Take one good look at his right arm.”
The slaver glanced back at Martin. As the sleeve of the man’s battered, faded tunic momentarily slipped up, he spotted an odd sliver of dark swirls framed by geometric lines.
“Survivor?” he whispered incredulously to his boss. “And he was that far along?”
“See what I mean?” the Leader nodded, whispering back. “Don’t make a scene. This place is good for a steady resupply, and a few extras. Don’t take it personally. It’s just business. Flesh is everywhere if you know how to look. Come on, let’s get our stuff.”
Martin smirked a little to himself. Once in a while, he dealt with young slavers’ tantrums. It was nice to have experienced elders who knew how to keep them at bay. Now, on to his new charge.
“Hungry?” he asked.
There was no answer. He unlocked the cage and opened the door wide. Slowly, carefully, showing his hands at every step, he took out a small, elongated wooden bowl and unwrapped a piece of fresh bread from the pouch around his belt. He slid the bowl into the cage, unsnapped the carabiner holding a small canteen of water, and gently rolled it after the food.
After a little bit of hesitation, a filthy, chained hand took the bread. It vanished in the blink of an eye. The canteen was quickly drained as well.
“Don’t worry, there’s more food coming,” nodded Martin. “You just need to expand your stomach a little bit first. You’ve probably been out there with nothing to eat for a few days, maybe even a week?”
She nodded in reply, still mostly covered by shadows.
He walked around the side of the cage and slid in a key. She watched his every step, noting that he very purposefully took his time. With a strained, groaning clanking, the massive cuffs unlocked as the chains fell onto the floor. She was now free.
She rubbed her wrists and tried to stand up, leaning on the metal to stabilize herself. Regaining some sense of balance, she made her way out of the cage, her bare feet firmly planting themselves into the cool stone of the floor. Wincing, she began to adjust to the light as she looked up at Martin.
Her frame seemed downright fragile, lean with the obvious onset of malnutrition. Ribs were ever so slightly starting to show through the tears in the filthy rags wrapped around her body. Her jet black hair hung in clumps, dust and dirt clung to her face. Looking down, she watched Martin’s boots for any forward motion but the man seemed content where he was.
“Come with me,” he said after a minute. “Let’s get you washed up and do a health check.”
Wait, did she just hear him right? Wash up? Like, with water? In a proper bath?
“What would you like me to call you?” asked Martin.
“Neva,” she croaked in response.
Her face froze in shock as the sound of her voice resembled a rusty hinge being pried open, more than a human vocalization.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “More water and a shower will help that. We see it all the time.”
Neva followed him through large hallways and corridors to a large room with smooth stone walls and round pebbles on the floor which seemed just rough enough to safely step on when wet. He pointed to a stall with a fresh, fluffy towel and small glass bottles of soaps and cleansers.
“Take as long as you need,” he said. “The water is heated and recycled. I’ll be across the hall.”
He may as well have pointed her to heaven. Over the next half an hour, a month worth of desert came off her body. Included in the kit was a safety razor and shaving foam, which she took as a hint to shave every nook and cranny. According to some of the nomads in the Wastes, this was decent protection from lice and other little parasites.
Refreshed and with a bounce in her step, Neva walked into the office across the hall wrapped in the towel, awkwardly holding her rags, unsure of what to do with them. The first thing she spotted was a large exam table and an array of lights hanging from the ceiling. A nervous pit suddenly wound itself in her stomach.
“Please drop those old clothes of yours in the waste bin, take off your towel, and have a seat on the examination table,” said Martin, barely looking up at her, scribbling something on forms laid out in front of him.
“Are you... a... Fixer?” she asked, clearly struggling to find the right word.
“I’ll do my best,” he nodded, putting on a pair of clean latex gloves.
She slid onto the exam table after discarding what was left of her clothes and neatly folding the towel. He took her vitals, listened to her heart and lungs with a stethoscope, consulting a chart and an ancient electronic tablet as he did. Looking deeply into her pale, sun-damaged green eyes, he checked her reflexes and vision with a thick, pen-like device that shone a bright light.
“Please uncover your breasts,” he requested.
She complied with a slight shudder as his hands started to examine her breasts. What he was doing didn’t feel rough, but it also didn’t feel like caresses of someone looking to get a little touchy. No, these motions were well practiced and had the quality of a thorough search. Less than a minute later, he marked off something else in his notes, plopped down on a stool with wheels, and looked over all of his paperwork once again.
“All right, heart and lungs sound just fine, you don’t seem to have any parasites, reflexes are normal, no tumors or abnormal bumps. Now we’ll just get a little blood for testing and do the standard reproductive exam.”
“But...” She looked at him flustered. “I’m not... I don’t have the infection. And I haven’t... done anything… so you don’t have to do the repro exam.”
“Wow, if the slavers knew...” he shook his head incredulously, “They would’ve raised hell.”
A device shaped like an armrest came up from the exam table. She put her arm on it, and flexible straps affixed her wrist and forearm. One of the straps coiled itself around her arm just past her elbow, tightening as a robotic syringe with a small, curved, screen-like attachment found a vein and started siphoning blood into several glass vials.
“It’s not like there’s a thriving marriage scene in the middle of the valley!” she snarled defensively.
“Fair, but I still have to do it,” he grimaced, shrugging and waiving the forms at her. “I’ll try my best to make it as quick and painless as possible.”
The syringe was extracted from her arm, and the robot dropped it into a biohazard bin before extending the vials to Martin and retracting into the table. Martin pressed another button and another robotic arm with a curved device unfolded itself as a pair of stirrups appeared by her feet.
“Wait,” Neva’s eyes widened. “Is this place a... farm?”
“A farm? Not exactly...” he sighed. “But the principle is more or less the same, I suppose.”
A cacophony of thoughts rushed into her head, but she silenced them by reflex. Just like in that desert. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other.
She sighed and shrugged.
“I understand,” she almost whispered, and slowly, with a deep breath and steely determination, placed her feet in the cold metal stirrups. “Like this?”
“Yes, perfect,” confirmed Martin, moving the curved device over the lower stomach and pubis in his unhurried, rehearsed, rather dispassionate manner.
“This won’t hurt, right?” Neva couldn’t contain a tiny, anxious shudder.
“Hopefully just the opposite,” replied Martin. “I know you may not be quite ready considering your current condition, but my checklist has to be done.”
As the machine whirred for a few seconds, he applied a very large dollop of clear gel to his hands. His right hand firmly planted itself on her lower stomach, sliding lower and lower until his palm rested between her parted legs. His index and ring fingers began to massage her lower stomach, unhurriedly making their way down to her mound.
She tried to squirm a little but stopped herself. This was so sudden but it felt... pleasant? With almost no effort, one of his fingers slipped inside her. A puff of air escaped her nose. A moment later, a second finger made its way inside as well. Her feet pushed against the stirrups, her back ever so slightly arched, allowing his fingers to sink in a little deeper.
Neva glanced at his face, expecting to see a coy smirk but his expression was blank. While his fingers gently slid in and out of her, quickening their pace, he observed her with professional detachment, marking those damned forms with his other gloved hand, as cool and collected as if he was making coffee.
Their eyes briefly met. She looked away, leaning back, her hips starting to sway and buck without her even knowing. She felt his thumb ever so gently brush against her clit, making her gasp. Then again. And again. And again, dialing in the rhythm so his thumb was stimulating her now wet, engorged clit as his fingers slid out, and eased up a little as they slid back in.
Suddenly, something changed. He found the right combination and she shot up, her hands about to grab his arms, her toes wrapped around the footrests. A hoarse gasp, or moan, or whisper, or maybe all three escaped her throat. Using every ounce of self-control, she stopped herself mid-reach and forced herself to relax, falling back down on the table, now fully raising her hips and arching her back.
“Hmm... I think I have everything I need for my checklist here,” finally said Martin. “You’re probably just waiting for this to be over, so we can stop now...” as his hand held firm in its place.
An angry, disapproving grunt from Neva cut him off as she shook her head. She could feel her stomach tensing up, a warmth and sparks of what felt like electricity radiating through her body with every stroke of his fingers. Her bottom was completely off the table now. Unable to help herself, she latched onto his wrist but offered absolutely no resistance.
All she needed was just... a little bit... more... Just a tiny bit more stimulation, the tiniest bit of additional pressure on her clit, or maybe a tongue, or maybe...
With a prolonged, pained grunt, she felt the warmth inside her explode, waves of pleasure washing over her muscles, convulsing under his continued touch. She fell back down on the table, a deep sigh escaping her lips.
“Huh, well, shows what I know,” shrugged Martin, disengaging and discarding his gloves. “Need some water?”
Neva could only nod in reply.
“And we can check that off as all good as well,” he said after handing her another canteen of cool water, sitting down on his stool, and consulting the forms and the tablet. “Looks like you are in perfect health, no issues with response or arousal. I’d even say you’re ready, surprisingly quickly. Just two little things left. Ready?”
Neva nodded. Martin rolled back in his chair and motioned for her to stand up and turn around. As she did, she suddenly felt his fingers on the small of her back and immediately glanced over her shoulder. He was studying the dark swirl at the base of her spine.
“You must’ve had the infection as a baby,” he said, shaking his head, his fingers tracing the geometric design containing it.
“I promise, I’m not infectious...” she started.
“Don’t worry. I’m a survivor too,” he smiled wryly and rolled up his right sleeve.
His symbiotic structure swirled across most of his arm, also held in place by intricate medical tattoos. Which meant that his limp was... Neva’s blood ran cold at the realization.
Another robotic arm came out of the table. She squealed just a little as the middle of her right buttock burned for a few moments. A black barcode was now seared into her flesh, tattooed by the laser. A strong but light and well-padded collar, with a thick latch which looked like it was made of polished chrome, snapped shut around her neck, sealing itself as if it was one piece.
Turning around, she once again saw all emotion drained from his face. He looked her over and made a final check on the forms.
“Welcome to Eden,” he intoned.
Martin flexed against the restraints holding him down on a large operating table. Large magnets lined its sides, pointed at the joints in his legs, his hips, and along his ribcage. Satisfied with the new position, he laid back down.
“Sorry we had to resort to this Martin,” said the Scientist, adjusting something on the computer terminal in front of him. “But your tolerance for sedatives and painkillers is just too high now, and we only have so many supplies.”
“I get it, let’s just do this as quickly as possible,” Martin nodded in reply.
“Just a few more little tweaks,” purred the Scientist. “If only they hadn’t done such a botch job on you...”
“Yeah, well, they used the tools they had.”
“By the way, I saw the forms for your new intake. Interesting specimen. I’m sure you’re looking forward to it.”
“We’re both just working for our keep.”
“But nevertheless, I’m sure it has its... moments.”
Martin remained silent.
“Ah! There we go!” smiled the Scientist. “Ready?”
“Ready,” nodded Martin.
The magnets began to whine, powering up. The whine became lower and deeper, turning into a low, menacing hum. Martin’s eyes closed, his lips clenched, and his body began to ever so slightly twitch. As the hum hit its peak, a series of cracks, both metallic and organic, emanated from his joints and spine. The Scientist immediately shut off the magnets and retracted them into an assembly hanging from the lab’s ceiling.
“Now you’re in alignment!” he chortled.
Martin merely groaned in reply as the restraints pulled away. After taking a few deep breaths, he hopped off the table. He stretched and flexed, then took a few steps. His limp vanished.
“Thank you,” he finally said.
He grabbed his walking stick and headed to the door.
“Of course Martin, it’s my pleasure,” smiled the Scientist as his patient reached for the door handle. “Oh, and please keep me apprised of how things are going with... Neva, was it?”
A nod and an affirmative hum on his way out was the entirety of Martin’s response.
Instead of having to hide in some rocky crevice as she had for quite some while, Neva was resting in a room all to herself. Not only that, but she was on a real bed, with real sheets, blankets, and pillows. And before that, she was even fed a more than decent dinner. Yet she tossed and turned, her mind buzzing.
”They work for the lights in the sky”, she remembered being told. ”No one knows what they do in those citadels, no one wants to look. And no one comes out.”
What did that mean, exactly? Why were the locals so afraid of these places? Did people disappear because something sinister was happening here, or they refused to return to roaming the Wastes, looking for food and pillaging lost camps and caches?
She sat up and looked around the room. It was sparse, but comfortable. The bed was nice and wide, situated by the wall opposite of the door, with a nightstand on each side. A window looked out into a courtyard. There was a desk with a chair, some built-in shelving, and a sleek, plush lounge seat with a footrest. Behind another door was a bathroom. There was no shower but that didn’t matter. By her most recent standards, this was downright lavish.
Likewise there were no bars on the window and the door locked from the inside with a simple switch. Aside from having no clothes and the collar around her neck, it’s as if she was a concubine in an opulent palace of a regional warlord.
Though, come to think of it, the desert outside, with its roaming bands of bandits, slavers, and mysterious “wanderers” was probably all the bars and locks that were necessary. She could escape, but where was she going to go? She barely made it three months on her own, and if the slavers hadn’t caught her and sold her to this place, it’s an open question how much longer she would have lasted.
Neva wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but when she opened her eyes, the room was flooded with bright light from the window. As her eyes focused, she saw Martin sitting in the lounger, reading a thick book with small, slightly faded glyphs made of sharp lines and dots scattered across its pages.
“You can read?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes. “Oh… Right. You were reading and writing yesterday. Sorry.”
“Mhmm,” he replied. “Good morning to you too.”
“How long have you been here?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Not long,” he shrugged. “Want some breakfast? You’re going to need your energy today.”
“What’s today?”
“Orientation and first day of training.”
After making their way through a small courtyard and past another wing of rooms, Neva and Martin stood in front of a large, imposing, jet black door with strange red markings. She walked briskly as she still hadn’t gotten any clothes. Covering herself seemed like it would slow her down, and she was always taught not to demand anything from the locals. Following her guide with her head down, avoiding eye contact while watching her bare feet step across the cool, impeccably polished stone tiles, seemed like her best option.
Martin fished out a key from his pouch and unlocked the ornate doors, inviting her to enter. Inside was a large chamber with massive skylights. In its center, where the walls narrowed, was a circle of heavily padded leather. Thick chains with cuffs resembling the collar around her neck extended from the walls, and one ran up through the floor. A bright red X marked the center of the padded circle.
Something told her this is where she had to stand, the feeling confirmed by a glance at his expressionless face. Nervously, she walked to the mark and awaited further instruction.
“Please, on all fours,” said Martin.
Neva assumed the position. He clamped the chain on the floor onto the latch on her collar and gave it a gentle test tug.
“Everything is padded for your safety,” he began as he started to cuff her wrists and ankles. “But try not to make any sudden moves or tug on any of the restraints too hard, as not to dislocate one of your joints. A lot of adrenaline will be flowing through your system and you will pull harder than you think.”
His delivery was as flat as any other safety briefing, recited from rote memory as he tested the chains and the integrity of the locks on the cuffs now secured around her limbs.
A slight shudder traveled up her spine. This was terrifying. And yet, it didn’t feel malicious, just cold and impersonal. The tugs on the chain were measured and the padding was soft and smooth against her skin.
“What happens if I don’t do this?” she heard herself ask.
“Those who don’t comply get thrown into the Wastes, or sent to the lab,” he replied. “Personally, if given the choice, I’d ask for the Wastes.”
Neva closed her eyes and took a deep breath. His warm hand softly landed on her lower back, not moving.
“They’re interested in what we can produce, not us,” he added. “If they start getting interested in us, that’s bad.”
“So, what’s going to happen to me now?”
“We’re going to find your limits.”
“Did they find yours?”
Martin almost imperceptibly smiled. She might just survive, he thought.
“And went way past them,” he replied.
“All right Fixer, do your worst,” she huffed with a long blink.
His right hand slid down to her lower stomach as he got down on his knees behind her. Inexplicably, she felt a light vibration radiating through her lower half. Gently moving his fingers on her skin, Martin tenderly stroked her stomach, moving up toward her chest, backing away at just the right moment and sliding back down towards her lower stomach, then slipping further down to her inner thighs, taking his time.
On the next pass, he pressed his hand a little harder, sending more intense vibrations through her body. She gasped and felt herself shudder. In response, his hand began to spiral inward, resting just an inch away from her mound as the vibrations once again intensified.
With a low moan, Neva arched her back, raising her ass as high as she could and spreading her legs. Martin’s hand just kept grinding in the same spot while she squirmed.
“Ah... this feels... weird but good, I think,” she groaned.
“I can see you’re starting to get very wet,” he replied.
“Shut up, how do you know?” she snarled.
“You’re right, let me double check,” he nodded.
She felt something shift and while his hand remained where it was after a little movement, his warm breath suddenly grazed her clit. It wasn’t some sort of gimmick, just his normal breathing, but between the vibration, and now the addition of his other hand on her lower back gently sliding down, her body once again decided to move on its own.
His hands locked on her ass and lower stomach. His tongue ever so gently grazed her mound to another gasp. The next lick was firmer and more confident, parting her lower lips, traveling down to her clit, pausing there with just a bit more pressure. The tip of his tongue made intentional, delicate circles.
Her hand shot back towards his head, but the chain stopped her, snapping her arm right back as she let out a frustrated growl. Understanding, he continued, now with deep, slow licks, each hovering over her clit for just a few extra seconds before the next one.
“You’re not... gonna make me cum like that...” she groaned. “I can take a lot more!”
“Oh, I know,” he replied matter of factly.
On his next lick, his lips covered her mound, adding suction. Neva let out a growl that turned into a moan.
“You’re cheating, you fucker!” she snapped as her knees grew weak and her entire lower half shuddered.
Suddenly, he stopped and slid out from underneath her. She could hear his tunic and pants hit the padding behind her. As his hand once again landed on her left buttock, she relaxed into it almost reflexively, surprising herself once again. One of his fingers effortlessly slid inside her, eliciting another moan and more squirming as he slid in another finger and began to slide them in and out.
“Is that all you got, Fixer?” she scoffed.
In reply, he disengaged, grabbed a metallic loop and tugged on it. Her neck chain yanked her face-first into the padding and now held her there.
“Don’t get too feisty, that was just the warm up,” said Martin.
Before she could catch her breath, she felt his tip slip inside with almost no effort. After a moment, he continued. She could feel herself being stretched and filled. Her hands desperately tried to grab on to something but found nothing except for a patch of smooth padding. Finally breathing again, she moaned.
“Almost there,” he said.
She squealed as she felt his balls touch her mound. He was now buried inside her to the hilt, grinding his hips into her, his still vibrating hand pressing down on her lower stomach.
“Oh fuck!” she hoarsely let out.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“What do you... mean how?” she groaned, her brain starting to go fuzzy.
“How does it feel to have me all the way in that warm, tight, wet pussy of yours?” he asked again.
Her reply was another groan.
“Let’s try it another way,” he mused.
Slowly, his hips began to move, gaining a little more speed with every thrust. His hand let go of the handle and Neva’s head shot back up. She turned, glaring at him with a scowl, taking in the swirling, dark patterns and markings which stretched from the right side of his chest, down his arm to nearly his wrist, and ending somewhere around the middle of his thigh.
It took a moment for her to realize what she was seeing, but as soon as it dawned on her, her eyes snapped wide open in shock. How far gone was he before ultimately surviving? There was no way he was still...
Her thoughts were interrupted by his hands now firmly wrapping around her hips as he picked up the pace. She could feel him coming close to bottoming out but pulling back right before pleasure would turn into pain. Her hands tried to reach for her mound but the chains once again denied her. She landed on her forearms with a thud and an angry snarl.
“Please...” she heaved. “Please... can you...?”
“Can I what?” he asked.
“Do the thing... with the vibration... right on my clit.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m...”
“Because why? Finish your sentence, please.”
“You’re fucking my... pussy too hard for me to do that!”
“Should I ease up?”
“No! I’m so close... I want to... I want to cum! Please!”
Mercifully, his right hand moved back down to her lower stomach and she could once again feel the vibration.
“There!” she yelped as his fingers touched right above her swollen clit.
As the vibration rocked her body, her kegels tightened, putting him in what felt like a velvet vise. She felt him putting more effort into keeping his previous pace, but throbbing as he did.
“Are you... going to cum too?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he replied, but now in an obviously labored tone.
“Please... if you let me cum, you can cum too, ok?”
Moments later, she felt the climax rock her body. She let out a scream as her forearms slipped. Martin lost his grip and she felt a warm, sticky spray across her ass. With her convulsions, she pushed him out at the last second.
“No!” he suddenly roared, a forceful spank landing on Neva’s left buttock. “That’s the exact opposite of what you had to do! You know that!”
“What?” she groaned, but quickly realized what happened as her senses returned. “Wait, do you mean you have to... cum in me?”
“You said yourself what this place is!” He yanked on the handle once again, firmly planting her face into the padding with just barely enough room for her to breathe.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she squealed. “I’ll do it right next time! I’ll learn!”
“Oh, I know you will, I’ll make sure you remember,” he seethed.
An icy chill traveled down her spine. This sudden change from a dispassionate job to casual sadism, to now anger was whiplash-inducing. How was he going to make sure she remembered?
His hands now gripped her ass like predatory talons, and she couldn’t help but feel an inhuman rigidity to the fingers in his right hand. A wave of panic gripped her as his right thumb covered her asshole and began to slowly pulse.
“Wait! Wait! No, I understand, I promise!” she cried.
His thumb began to sink inside her ass, her juices, with which his hands were covered, acting as lubrication.
“And now I’m going to make sure you never forget it,” he calmly said as it fully penetrated her.
“I don’t think I can take that lesson,” she pleaded.
“And I think you’re lying to me again.”
“Why do you...?”
She didn’t finish her question as he pulled out his thumb and touched his tip to her now pulsating hole. With a gush of warm, slippery something, she felt his tip burrow in and stop. After a few huffs she caught her breath, still pinned to the floor and as soon as she did, he pushed in deeper. Slowly but surely, millimeter by millimeter, most of his cock was now inside her ass as she let out a whine that turned into a moan and then into a low pitched gasp.
“Oh... My... Fuuuuck...” she finally managed to let out.
He started moving, little by little at first, but gaining both speed and momentum. Neva was no longer worried about keeping it together, moaning and swearing with every other thrust. In her fury, she managed to lift her head off the padding, pulling the chain attached to her collar against Martin’s grip.
“Who the fuck... do you think you are?” she roared. “Just fucking my ass... like that? You wanna teach me a lesson? You’re gonna... have to... go harder than that!”
“As you wish,” he said, yanking on the chain again, sending Neva face first back into the pads.
His thrusts rapidly sped up. Her feet tried to find firmer footing, her legs shaking, her breathing labored. She felt so incredibly, unbelievably full, every thrust hitting something that felt good. Not enough to make her climax again, but with just a little play with her...
Her hands were once again denied by the chains. She howled in frustration as his hand came down on her ass once again, hard. He barely even slowed his rhythm while she gripped the padding and bared her teeth in frustration.
“If you’re going to cum, let me cum too!” she begged. “Please!”
“And where do you want me to cum?” he asked.
“My pussy!” she screamed. “Cum in my pussy!”
After another thrust she felt him pull out of her ass, and just a few moments later, slide back in her pussy, maintaining the same furious pace. Instinctively, she bucked her hips and felt the chain around her neck loosen. His right ring and middle fingers curved over her clit, once again vibrating.
“Cum! Cum! Come on!” she chanted. “Fill me up already and let me fucking get there!”
Her eyes almost rolled back into her head as she came, her body shuddering, but this time, pushing back on him, making sure he was buried inside her as far as he could go and she could take. He suddenly stopped for a moment and she could feel his hands clamping down around her body. Without making a sound, he came deep inside her, pulsing again and again with explosion after explosion.
Catching her breath, she looked up to see the chain linked to her collar in his hand, his throbbing erection slick with all her fluids hovering an inch away from her face.
“Now, clean it up,” he ordered.
She glanced down at the chain and looked back into his eyes. Unsteadily, she gently licked the underside of his tip and gingerly wrapped her lips around it.
With a disapproving grunt, he yanked the chain, forcing his cock further into her mouth as her eyes grew wide. With yet another yank, he pushed it even further down her throat and grabbed the back of her head with his left hand and with a steady, practiced motion began to fuck her throat.
To his surprise, after a short adjustment, she began to push herself even deeper down on his now throbbing cock, straining with sounds even he found a little alarming, watching the distention of her throat with a mix of awe and approval.
“I’m going to cum if you keep going like that,” he warned.
With a pained gasp, she pulled back, freeing her mouth.
“Don’t waste it,” she said before licking his tip again, “unhook my hands and let me ride you.”
A brief smile crossed his face. He quickly released her wrists and collar, and slid under her as her newly freed hands gently stroked him and guided him back inside.
The warmth inside her now felt like an inferno, every thrust seemingly effortless thanks to her wetness and his previous climax. His hands reached out and grabbed her breasts, firmly but not roughly, fondling them.
“Are you trying to edge yourself?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Then just cum!” she begged.
He complied, grinding into her while exploding once again. After a few moments to get his wits back about him, he slowly and carefully flipped Neva onto her back without withdrawing, and raised her legs over his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Well, I think I’m going to walk funny for a day and my ass is on fire, but otherwise just fine,” she grumbled.
Parting her legs, he bent down and gave her a quick kiss on the lips to her complete surprise.
“You did well,” he said. “Now, let’s go clean up.”
The padded vault was once again opened, this time by a worker pulling a trolley with a bucket and a collection of mops. He began dutifully cleaning the padding, working his way towards one of the curving walls.
When he was within reach, he looked for a small triangle under the lens of a camera trained at the center of the chamber. He pressed it and collected the blue crystal cube extended on a pair of finger-like robotic appendages.
Neva laid on her stomach, her dinner half-finished on the table. Even though she was still a little hungry, she couldn’t bring herself to empty the plate. After a long, hot shower, and the application of various ointments and creams to help soothe her poor bits, she felt downright amazing. But now, both the medication and the adrenaline were wearing off.
Martin sat in the chair, finishing some sort of paperwork. His face was back to the same expressionless blank it had been so far, and his manners were just as polite and professional.
“Hey,” she started. “What did you mean when you said that I was lying to you again?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, not lifting his head from his papers.
“And how can you make your hand vibrate like that?” she tried again.
“Just something I can do,” shrugged Martin.
“Am I asking too many questions?”
“We’re coworkers. Let’s make sure we keep this professional and polite. We’re not ready to learn more about each other yet.”
“Oh, the things we need to do to get fed at the end of the day, huh?”
A knock on the door interrupted them. A man peered in and after a nod to Neva turned his attention to Martin.
“Hey, Martin, can I steal you for a bit?” he asked. “They want an update.”
“You’re kidding me,” mumbled Martin and turned to her. “Please excuse me. There’s more ointment in your bathroom if you need it.”
With that, he left with the messenger, leaving her sore and no closer to any answers.
Martin and the man walked down the winding stone paths towards the center of the complex. Coming to a fork, Martin tacked right while his colleague hung a left and started to walk on a downward slope.
“Xavier, that’s not the way to the admin offices,” said Martin with a suspicious grimace.
Xavier paused, mulling his next words carefully.
“I need your help,” he said. “Something is wrong. I just lost my newest Vessel. They took her down to the lab and I haven’t seen her for almost a week.”
“How do you expect me to help with that? Once they go to the lab, whatever happens, happens.”
“And you’re not the least bit suspicious?”
Martin only sighed heavily in reply.
“It’s my third vessel in four months,” Xavier shook his head. “I overheard them. I think they want to take your new one too.”
“And why is that?” asked Martin.
“I don’t know. All I heard them say is that she’s not who she says she is.”
“This is why they say ‘don’t get attached’. You’ll end up doing stupid shit like this.”
“So... does this mean you’ll help?”
“Think about it. There are guards, patrols, spies... If you were just going to sneak around and hope you’ll find your way in, you’re going to find out what happened to the Vessels, but that’s going to be the last thing you do.”
“You’re probably right. Just forget I said anything.”
“Now, why did they want an update on Neva?”
The corner of Xavier’s mouth twitched into a sinister smile.
“They found... some inconsistencies,” he replied.
Martin and Xavier walked into the palatial office of Bartolo, the Supervisor of the citadel, and took their usual seats. As he adjusted his position, Martin couldn’t help but yawn, trying to cover it up as quickly as possible.
“My apologies,” he said. “Long day.”
“We saw,” replied Bartolo, leaning to the side.
Behind him, a whole menagerie of thick screens showing either freeze frames or videos from the padded chamber. In the center five screens showed Martin and Neva in various positions, the last one focused on her riding the Fixer, her face utterly lost in pleasure.
“Right, of course,” nodded Martin.
“Tell me something Martin,” sighed Bartolo, nervously tapping the arm of his chair. “Does this... uh... Neva? Right, Neva? Does she strike you as some overgrown urchin of the Southern Wastes now that you spent some time with her?”
He menacingly glanced at the screens.
“No, she does not,” Martin dutifully shook his head.
“Okay, so she’s not who she says she is,” shrugged Xavier. “A lot of vessels lie too and we don’t get summoned to late night meetings over them.”
“If she was just as meek and submissive as a lot of vessels, I wouldn’t care,” growled Bartolo.
“She is a bit of a power bottom,” mumbled Martin.
Xavier turned to him with a popped eyebrow.
“Right,” continued Bartolo. “She’s confident. Malnourished but still fit. Knows how to behave herself, more or less. She isn’t broken down by slavers of the desert. She has a strategy for this predicament and Martin following the rules snapped her out of it for just a moment or two, but long enough. This is why we created The Test Room.”
The Fixer and his colleague looked at each other in confusion.
“Have you heard of Yanzhen?” finally asked Bartolo.
“Yes, the ruler of Aus’a’ref in the Southeast, by the coast of the Inland Sea,” replied Xavier.
“Former ruler,” corrected Bartolo. “Word is, he was murdered last year. Clean hit, obviously by someone who knew what they were doing and could get close to him.”
“Do we know anything else?” Xavier perked up.
“No,” groaned Bartolo, leaning back in his chair. “That’s all we’re comfortable saying we know. A few other warlords nearby and the Supervisor of Phex’a’ref were offed as well, details equally sparse.”
“So, you’re thinking an assassin posing as a concubine or a Vessel is going around the Wastes killing important people on someone’s orders?” asked Martin.
“Precisely,” agreed the Supervisor.
Martin scratched his chin.
“All right,” exhaled the Fixer. “And between her behavior and the strange test results, you’re thinking the assassin might’ve been down on her luck, was caught by slavers, and ended up in my care?”
Another affirmative grumble.
“Do you want me to find out more, or are you just going to drag her away to the lab?” Martin leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Bartolo. “I understand we may have gotten a little overzealous with test subjects lately. It would be a shame if we didn’t at least try to find answers without just throwing our resources to Rahime and his Biohazard Brigade.”
“You really want to tell Rahime that,” Bartolo let out a deep, throaty laugh. “He might adjust you a little... too tight for comfort next time.”
“I respect him as a scientist and appreciate his help,” replied Martin. “But he’s not a Fixer. He’s not an Investigator. All of his answers are going to be facts and figures translated from ancient equipment. I know how to deal with people without very menacing and complicated tools.”
Bartolo mulled his words for a few moments.
“Very well,” he said just as the pregnant silence started to become uncomfortably long. “You can have a few days to see what you can find out and report back. We’ll go from there.”
Martin hauled himself out of the deep chair with his walking stick. Xavier hopped up.
“Supervisor, since I have your...” he began.
“Dismissed,” barked Bartolo, turning around and starting one of the videos on his screen.
The meeting was officially over and his subordinates were to see themselves out. Just as they were leaving, two Vessels, both naked and collared as was the standard, walked past them into the office and slid the door shut.