Author’s Note:
This series was never intended to be a series and, even more than that, was never intended to have any character development or off-action chatter. So how this one came about is beyond me.
It was inspired by a news report of an actual technological development: Electrodes that could be implanted under the skin at the base of the spine to fool the brain into thinking that the vagina was enjoying itself. I thought, well… Jade wouldn’t like second best, would she? And so here we are.
Criticisms along the lines of “There’s not enough character development!” will be cheerfully ignored. There’s not supposed to be.
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“Alone in Space 5” Or: “Deception”
Jade looked suspiciously at the innocuous leather strip, and pointedly avoided touching it.
It was attached to her darling chair at the usual spot for the collar, but it was not the collar she was used to. Or rather, it was the wrong collar she was used to.
The collar was, of course, optional. As were all other accessories in this room, provided that certain minimal requirements were met. Every ship of the Company started out with the same base set of componentry, but once a pilot had passed their probation and become custodian of their ship they could start ticking the options boxes, and that included removing default settings.
No ship was allowed to exceed weight limits, and so Jade had compromised on exercise equipment (a basic set of resistance arms and a couple of striking pads and bags was enough) in order to include all the mechanics that she could use with – she licked her lisp merely thinking about it – her chair.
And, being a fan of restraints, and a great fan of being held immobile while abused by cold, mechanical machines which only cared about the signals coursing through her sensory nerves, had specified a collar. And liking to be restrained by flexible bonds that wrapped skin-tight around her, she had specified the leather collar.
She had grown to love that collar. She had grown to personify it and become a little submissive to the collar as an entity. She had even begun to talk to it, and to say thank you the way a good submissive should. While indulging her occasional abusive rape fantasy, she had screamed and swore at it. She had even begun kissing it.
Five voyages ago, it had been replaced.
This was not her collar. It was the new collar. It was not quite as soft, which was a little annoying. It was wider, which was good around her long neck. The attachment to the chair had been not through a chain but through a thick wire rope, which was odd but not so odd as to be annoyed at. Why, she had asked the dock manager while trying not to indulge her fantasy of slamming him back against the wall and lifting him off the ground by one hand around his neck, had it been changed at all? Why was she only now informed, and only by reading tediously through the list of checks she was required to sign off on?
Don’t fucking know, not my fucking problem, the dock manager had replied shortly, and narrowly, through the most incredible effort of will on Jade’s part, avoided folding up gently around testicles screaming in pain.
Well who does fucking know, she had asked, only to be told that he didn’t fucking know that, either, but it was probably fucking maintenance.
There was nothing fucking wrong with it, she had objected, to be met with the perfectly accurate riposte that he didn’t fucking Ataköy travesti care.
You fuck-head, she had told him, and was promptly docked a quarter of that trip’s pay, for abusing senior staff, by automated sensors scattered around the dock.
That had not improved her mood, and only a thug at her destination port, who had tried to rape her in a back-alley short-cut, had helped out by giving her somebody to beat up. The dock police had protested about her cutting off his genitals with a uniform utility knife that she hadn’t been allowed to carry ashore, but some smooth talking and participation in a spit-roast party with the cell door locked – like most dock staff they were easily and regularly bribed by the flesh, bathed regularly and made sure that they had sweet-tasting cum, which was always appreciated – had eased that little difficulty.
Now, five trips later, she had been informed, with great pride, by a Company representative who had demonstrated the presence of mind required to do so from behind a security-enabled desk, what the collar was for.
That had not improved her mood either.
“We can finally do away with many mechanical components of the Sexual Exercise System!” He had enthused, long practice dropping the capitals neatly into place.
Caution, in case she was fired for insubordination, prevented Jade’s initial outburst and the official had been able to continue uninterrupted.
“The new generation of collar is a ganglion-accurate nerve sensor and exciter. For the past four trips, it has been calibrating itself using feedback from the sensors in your brain, so that it can, with absolute accuracy, stimulate the nerves in your spinal column to simulate any physical sensation below the neck.”
She had managed to restrict herself to a disbelieving stare.
“The upshot of which”, he had continued, carried away by the magnificence of the situation, “Is that we can perfectly replicate any physical activity performed by the machines, and save the weight and space that the machines took up!”
Jade’s impulse, to leap across the desk and throttle him, had thankfully been consumed behind a choked-out comment that we could do this with virtual reality already.
“Yes, yes,” he said irritably, waving that away. “But, as you should well know following your basic training, we cannot implant virtual-reality hardware in a pilot’s head. The sensors you have are the most we can do. This way we can replicate virtual reality! We can even provide goggles if you need visual stimulation!
Jade bit back the retort that she preferred to be blindfolded or at least unsighted and to not know what was about to be done to her, and took several rapid, shallow breaths to keep the red mist down. Finally she managed to choke out the comment that the employment agreement had clearly outlined the amount of choice available to her as an employee in deciding upon…
“Yes, yes,” he said with a wave of his hand, as though dismissing this as ultimately unimportant. “It does, and you can choose to continue to use the wasteful…”
“Well, then…”
“But you can not choose to ignore this completely,” he continued with an implacability that she had not expected him to possess. “You are required to trial all new equipment offered by the Company, and this is no exception. I will review the reports after your next voyage.”
And that had been that. She had left to try and work out her anger on a Ataköy travestileri large punching bag in the dormitory gym, and now here she was, naked and surprisingly ambivalent about it, staring at the collar lying quietly but expectantly on the chair’s backrest.
She was battling the indisputable but conflicting facts that her body was screaming for release – she was five minutes later than normal in fulfilling that demand – and her mind was still feeling rebelliously put-out, not to mention cynical, about the collar, and with a final vestige of superstitious reluctance to let it manipulate any nerves that closely.
Finally, frustrated lust and a touch of kinky anticipation won out, and she approached it the way she normally did sex – aggressively and challengingly. A practised step-half-roll put her lying on the chair, legs in the accustomed wide-spread position, neck perfectly placed. The collar wrapped itself around her neck and tugged with just the right amount of accustomed pressure, and then the other leather straps wrapped themselves around her arms, upper and lower and wrist, and legs at two places on her thighs, two on her calves. A thin rope wrapped around her belly, holding her down more by the delicious threat of discomfort than by solid restraint, and ropes wrapped firmly above, below, around and between her breasts to put pressure on the little flesh she did have, making them swell up, more easily accessible to the machines that would normally be lunging at her now.
Then she took a deep breath, and said “Run default”.
The chair was already in the default setting, and did not need to adjust. The absence of hovering, spidery, silver-gleaming arms above her was disconcerting and achingly wrong. Even the bits of her brain that recognised the existence of the arms that came from underneath the table felt the loss of not having arms descending upon her helplessly restrained body from above.
Then she felt suction cups settle over her nipples and sudden cold make them spring achingly erect, and a gasp rushed out of her. Her neck jerked up to stare frantically down at her chest, and saw nothing. Her nipples were beginning to harden in response to the sensation, but nothing like…
Then they were… She felt them sucked hard into two glass tubes, distended painfully beyond design limits, and her head fell back with a thump, completely disoriented by the discontinuity between sensation and sight.
A jet of cold water played over her pussy, making her back arch, and… the part of her brain that knew it was only a false sensation tried to make her feel its artificiality, but her pussy stubbornly felt it as real. Just to check, she craned her head forward again, and saw a complete absence of the water jet that was continuing to play up and down her slit, bouncing with painful stimulation off her clit, just as the vacuum sleeves that were not actually attached to her nipples started to pulse.
Her head dropped back again, harder this time, and she clenched her eyes shut. “Blindfold!” she gasped while she still could, and a length of black silk wrapped itself obligingly around her eyes to spare her the cognitive dissonance of not being able to see the thick, studded metal rod that then slid smoothly inside her cunt. She felt it fill her, and felt the tear-drop studs moulded over the surface bump past her lips and massage her flesh as it did so. She felt it push painfully against the end of her Travesti Ataköy cunt, and then felt it withdraw almost all the way, only the ice-cold tip within her, before it plunged back in and started on a fast, abusive pounding. Every nerve in her cunt began screaming and Jade, still struggling with the knowledge that it was all an illusion, that none of it was happening to her, surrendered and let her mind fracture and run away to play with the sensations.
The vacuum on her nipples intensified until pain radiated throughout her breasts, and then the cold water, which had started to pulse with hard, painfully sharp slaps, was joined by a metal ring which found her erect clit, contracted around it painfully and then started to vibrate.
She convulsed around the rope holding her down, hard enough to leave a red mark when this was finished, and screamed with the mix of searing pain and world-whitening pleasure that was always her weak spot.
Dammit, it was just as effective as it always had been – the ship and its perfect memory and millions of biometric sensors had been studying her for years and knew just what she needed, when and how to make her helplessly aroused and then all but blank her out with orgasm, but at the back of her conscious mind a small sprite ran back and forth, beating just as helplessly against the walls of diminishing consciousness that held it, screaming It’s Not Real! You’re Being Conned! This Isn’t Really Happening! WAKE UP!
Unfortunately, the rest of her body was screaming I DON’T CARE! even louder, and the voice of reason was drowned out by the voice of pure lust, and the sprite died with a final despairing shriek just before her body hit the perfect plateau of every nerve ending singing in tune.
At that point she didn’t consciously realise what was happening, and could never quite remember afterwards, having given control to the computer, what it had done to her at the time. So she didn’t notice the small plug slide well-lubricated into her arse and settle there, and didn’t notice her breasts squeezed even harder or the jaws that slid down inside the vacuum tubes on her nipples to pinch them even harder, even though she felt every bit of it. But she did notice, purely because it was what tipped her over the edge, when the dildo stopped deep inside her and started vibrating so aggressively that it was only held back by fear of injuring her pelvis.
She screamed for quite some time after that.
#
She stood up shakily, almost too limp and uncoordinated to stay there, every muscle quivering and weak, and took one step before turning off the gravity. She pushed herself off the floor, floated slowly towards the door until she got to where a fresh uniform waited her and… stopped.
She felt fine.
Which was wrong.
She wasn’t bruised, she didn’t ache, she didn’t feel as though she had just been fucked hard and mercilessly. Her nipples didn’t ache, her clit wasn’t sore, her cunt wasn’t aching and tender and there were no red marks, no wheals, no white patches or bruises except for where the restraints had held her. And the only moisture on her skin was sweat. If she had been able to rip the collar off the table and flung it into deep space, she would have done so. Even after cumming as violently as she ever had, she needed to do it again, just to make it feel real.
“Computer!” She said, not quite recovered enough yet to shout through her sore throat.
“Yes, Jade?” It replied in its current, carefully neutral voice.
“Disable that fucking collar. Replace it if you’ve got a spare. I don’t want to ever used it again, is that clear?”
“Yes, Jade.”
“And let me know when I can come back in here for some proper therapy. I don’t feel soiled.”
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