Playthings of the Rich and Famous: Chapter 3
#3 of Playthings
Rocky finally gets someone to put him in his place! ... Or at least she tries. We also learn a bit more about Rocky's assignment, world and who he'll be working with and for.
Playthings of the Rich and Famous
Chapter Three
My name is "Rocky," and that's about how my life has gone. A product of the Galatea Corporation that went awry, my destiny seems to lie somewhere among the stars. If only I could stop getting sidetracked on his way there! Sold to Angelic Escapes, I spend my days trying to discover just what it is that's wrong with me. Or is that what's right with me? It's hard to tell with how my assignments go.
This story may include bondage, random diatribes, dubious/non-consensual sex, tips for being a better lover, domination, comedy, sadism, distractions, masochism, impossible sex acts for mere mortals, exhibitionism, broken/fake science, sex machines, and intrigue. There. I warned you. Now if you keep going and you find something that you don't like, it's not my fault!
(Editor's note: I tried to keep him on track, I swear to god. It's like trying to get an 8 year old to remember what happened 5 minutes ago when he just got a new toy just now. As it stands, I'm still transcribing his various mutterings and wanderings, so this may take some time. Bear with us as I try to get him to focus on something long enough to talk about it without shifting to 'this one time at slut camp'.)
Customer Inspection
Everyone's got this image that group showers with Rocky should be a blast. And they can be! I got into this situation once with four other people and we were in there for two hours, and the only reason anyone came out clean is because the hot water never ran out. I had this jaguarundi guy pushed up against the wall and...
Where was I?
Oh. Not-fun shower time. Right.
They wheeled me into the shower, and just turned the hoses on me. My erection was down, so at least that didn't hurt. But they didn't let me wash myself, they just sprayed me down. I think that there was some kind of soap or surfactant or something in the sprayers because I could feel my fur fluffing out with suds.
I think that someone was having a bit too much fun though, because they were spraying the water and making my dick swing around.
How did they clean the section under the frame? That question seemed to occur to the techs about two minutes in. "Get him off there, we've got to do the back too." So they pulled me off of the frame, braced me against the wall, and sprayed me down. They kept the damn visor on, too.
Imagine that all you see is some warm beach on a nice summer day. And get sprayed with cold water. Only when you look around to see if you can find who's being the jerk, you just see the beach exactly where it was. I wasn't hungry, but other than that, I was pretty miserable. Once they got to my head, they finally pulled the visor off of me and told me to close my eyes, then sprayed my head down.
"Alright, that's enough. Rocky, shake the water out of your fur and then get to the dryer."
I slung water off of me, and if I tried to make it so that people and the hated frame got targeted, well, no one caught me or punished me for it.
The dryer was fantastic. I needed a bit of warmth after the cold water.
And in case you're wondering? No. I did not have any problems with 'shrinkage'.
After the dryer stopped was one of the absolute weirdest sessions I think that I've had. You know how you go to a spa? And everything is just super relaxing? The soft music, the hot bath, the massage that results in a handjob because even if this isn't 'that kind of place' your masseur just can't resist, and you end up making sweet love to a big hunk of bull who knows how all the muscles work and sure, he's got muscles on his muscles but he really just likes to sit and drink coffee and talk about 600 year old homoerotic poetry?
Wait, you've never had that?
Ok, look, there's this place on Rasiteli IVb. Lotus and Lavender. Ask for Marcus.
Anyway, You go to a spa to get pampered, that's my point. Everyone does things for you and you get to feel all warm and special.
Imagine that, only it's rushed, and no one actually cares if you're feeling cared for, just whether you look cared for. Someone was styling my hair, while someone else was running a fluffing brush over the rest of my coat, while someone else was running a scanner over my eyes, while someone else was fiddling with something with a computer.
"Processing is supposed to take an hour," someone grumbled, probably the guy running the computer station. "Second data dump starting in three, two, one." Everyone pulled away when the countdown started, and right as I was about to ask if I was done, everything went white.
It wasn't "painful". Really, it wasn't even uncomfortable in any kind of technical sense. All I knew was that I felt sore afterward. Like, intense workout kind of sore. But not in my muscles, in my brain. I didn't feel anything during the process. I don't really even know how long it took. All I know is that when I came too, I was in a wheelchair, being pushed through the halls of Galatea Corp HQ, on the upper levels.
How did I know it was the upper levels? Because the area that I had been in was nice. The kind of nice that a corp puts out when they want their employees to feel that they're valuable, and that this should be a nice place to work, but it's still a workplace and work needs to get done here. Functional, but with allowances where practical.
This place was nice. Lush carpet, thick enough that I could feel the guy pushing my wheelchair having to strain to keep momentum up. Rich tones. Probably real wood paneling, not the synthetic stuff. Tasteful decorations. Mostly. The marble nude of a domestic cat sculpting another domestic cat while looking adoringly up at it was just a touch over the top, but only a touch.
I got wheeled around that, and they noticed that I was conscious. "Dr. Tenning, he's responsive." She showed up in my vision and tilted my head this way then that, looking in my eyes. "He's tracking fine. Rocky, give me your serial number, and your current mission profile."
"C0UG4R-W3ST-775. Mission profile is unassigned crew specialist, FSS Angelic Passion, registered to Angelic Escapes. Luxury Interstellar Cruise." I was about to say more when she cut me off. "Good enough," she said, and then pointed at a door. "You've caused me nothing but grief today, and the local head of Angelic Escapes is in there, and she's in a pissy mood because you've been holding up the process, and they don't know how to write a schedule with any slack. If you don't make nice with her and show her that it was worth the wait, she may well cancel the entire order and go to someone else for her crew needs."
I really couldn't see how what happened to me was my fault. She was the one with a drill up her ass. Still, all I wanted was to get out of here, even if a small part of me wanted to go and find Jessie and give them that facefucking.
"Understood," was all I said, and I pushed myself out of my chair. I felt something brushing my knees as I caught my balance.
Ok, look. I'm packing, we've established this. But even I'm not that big. I looked down at whatever it was, and saw that someone had strapped a nice green loincloth on me. It did its job. Technically. Whatever the material was, probably nanosilk, it was either tailored to be 'teasing and naughty' for most guys and thus a sort of standard issue, or it was imperfectly tailored for me. If I got hard, there wasn't even a chance of it keeping me concealed, even if it managed to stay on top of the rising erection.
Don't get me wrong, I loved it. If I had my way, it would be the only thing in my wardrobe. But something told me that it wasn't supposed to fit like it did.
Either way, I had a job to do. "Anything else I should know?"
Doc-Mandy glared at me.
"I'll take that as a 'no', then," I said as I strode forward into the room, and the door shut behind me. It was pretty damn nice, and part of me wondered how anyone could be pissy waiting in a room like this. The couches looked soft and large. The chairs were designed to automatically adjust so that you'd be comfortable no matter how you sat.
Sitting in one of them with a snifter of what I could only imagine was brandy, sat a no-nonsense woman. Not really 'pretty', in any kind of a classical sense. Striking, sure, but not 'pretty'. She was a wolf, and her muzzle was longer than it 'should' be. Her eyes were 'too small'. Ears 'too far forward'. She was "too tall" for a woman. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so severe that for just a moment I worried if she was trying to grow it out by pulling on it all day.
And all of those physical imperfections just added up to someone that I wanted. Oh, I wanted this woman. She wasn't physically beautiful, but that's like, way less than even a quarter of what matters. No, this woman was powerful, confident, and smart. She held a position of responsibility and she took it seriously. She took just about everything seriously. Her blouse and jacket were tailored just so. The skirt hung exactly where it should. A demanding woman, with high standards.
"So you're the one that's been causing my timeline all the trouble," she said. She rose out of the chair. She didn't stand. She rose. Fluid. Graceful. Predatory. Oh, I liked this. I liked this a lot. And it showed.
I gave a bow from the waist, saying, "Please accept my apologies. There were unexpected circumstances. I am here to show you that Galatea Corporation is ready to deliver upon all points, as required by contract."
She had been advancing while I'd spoken, and she knotted her fist into my hair, and wrenched me back up, snarling in my face. "If I wanted you to talk, I'd have asked you a question."
Well that answered a question for me! I'd been waffling about what to do and how to handle this situation. On the one hand, sometimes people in positions of power get off on being put in a submissive role. Who doesn't like a bit of pegging? I sure as fuck enjoy it, especially when the woman can really project that aura of power over someone. Never understood why people always seem to get shocked about some politician getting caught with his pants down and his ass being cropped.
On the other hand, sometimes people in positions of power get off on being in power. This lady was absolutely in the second category.
She held that grip in my hair for several moments longer, and then nodded. "At least you learn from your mistakes." She shoved me back, and as I took that step to balance myself, I felt the silk shift to the side. Just as expected, the loincloth had either done exactly what it was supposed to, or it failed utterly. She looked down, and either this woman had been briefed about the nature of my 'condition', or she was an insanely good actor. Barely an eyebrow raise. "And this is what all the fuss was over," she stated. Not a question.
Her free hand moved to give me a rough, fast examination. Not exactly 'harsh' but very much not the caress of someone who wanted to tease and play nice. "You certainly meet the minimum requirements," she allowed before taking a sip of her brandy. All the while, her fingers were exploring. "They told me that you came a half dozen times during stress testing."
Not exactly the phrase that I'd use, but I wasn't the one who was pitching the sale. Pitching a tent? Only not technically true because the fabric slipped off the pole.
"Is that true? Did you cum that much?"
Finally, a question! "Yes, Ma'am."
She pulled her hand off of my balls, and tapped me on the nose with an extended finger, hard enough to be felt, but not so much that it made my eyes water. "That is your only warning. You will address me as 'Miss Juliet'. Weren't you even told my name?"
I flinched at the impact, but that was all. "I was not, Miss Juliet."
She scowled. "Incompetence." She pulled back, turning to walk a few paces away, and then turned to me once more. "I see that whether your initial 'processing' happened correctly or not, you at least know how to behave properly once instructed. Now we'll see what the limits of that testing are. Tell me, do you know what the primary product of my company is?" She held her hand up, finger extended. "Be careful of your answer. I have seen the recording of your session with the otter girl. Impressive performance. But also utterly elementary. I was told that your insouciance toward the testers was a matter of their lack of adhering to protocol and your own initial instability after coming out of your pod. I will brook none of your lip or sass. Have I made myself absolutely clear?"
Gulp. "Yes, Miss Juliet."
She nodded. Once. A sharp down-up. You could cut a hydrogen atom with the precision of that movement. "Then answer my question. You may give up to three answers that do not meet my standards before this interview is over, and you will be left to whatever happens, but Angelic Escapes will have nothing further to do with Galatea Corporation."
I thought for a moment before I ventured my guess. "Customer service?"
She scowled. "Is that a question, or an answer? And for the sake of my sanity, refill my drink." She shoved the snifter toward me.
I moved forward to take it from her, both hands. I dipped my head, a silent 'thank you for allowing me to serve you' before I stepped back. "An answer, Miss Juliet, but a poor one. May I be more specific, Miss Juliet?"
That got me some points, at least her face seemed to soften. I think that her lip curled about half a Planck length toward a smile. Maybe.
"You may. And I will not count it as a wrong answer. Yet. Nor will I count it as a demerit if you turn to refill my drink while you speak to me for the next two minutes."
I bowed again, making sure not to tip the glass over and spill. "Thank you, Miss Juliet." I turned and walked toward the liquor cabinet, and was thankfully saved from having to guess what she'd been drinking. The bottle was already out of the cabinet and resting on the shelf. "Angelic Escapes' product is the best in everything, Miss Juliet," I said as I set the snifter down and tipped the bottle into it, giving her a generous portion but not so much that it would seem like I was trying to get her drunk. She didn't say anything, so I continued. "Your company's product is luxury, and providing the kind of experiences that can't be believed. If one of your customers were to tell a friend, the story would be unbelievable without proof."
I turned to face her once more, and brought her the drinking glass, kneeling before I offered it up for her to take. She plucked the glass out of my hands, and I let them fall to rest on my thighs. Swirl. Sip.
"You're close enough to the mark that either you have a tongue that's good for more than getting between a woman's legs, or you were briefed and you lied to me. Absent further evidence, I'm going to decide that you're simply," she took another sip, "glib." She paced, and alternated between sipping at the glass, or looking down at me. "Good discipline, too. When we tested a unit from one of your competitors, it failed at this point. On your feet."
I stood, and she started to turn away, and then I saw something that I didn't expect to ever see out of her. Surprise. "By the stars, does that thing ever turn off?" I looked down. Yup. Still hard. "It seems to think that its presence is always required, Miss Juliet," I said, trying to sound apologetic. "It is why I was delayed. The technicians say that things should be returning to expected performance, Miss Juliet."
She made an 'mm' sound. "Well, let's see what you do with my own stress testing. Our customers are typically demanding but not mean spirited. I, on the other hand, can be." She motioned toward the wall. "Now then, control first, or response." She had pointed toward a bondage frame, and I very nearly groaned in frustration. Dammit, I'd only been out of the pod for like seven and a half hours, and I'd been in some form of bondage for nearly all of it! Still, I knew that any sign of hesitation would get me in trouble. I moved to take my position in the frame, and the instant that my foot left the ground, I felt her hand on my ass. A sharp, precise spank, catching me under the cheek with an upswing. I yelped in surprise, jumping forward a step and arching my back, which gave her an excellent target. My hair. Again. She locked her grip in it and hauled back, forcing me to bend my knees to maintain any kind of balance.
"I asked you a question," she snarled into my face.
"Forgive me, Miss Juliet, please! I thought that you were speaking to yourself!"
She gave my head a warning shake, and then carefully stepped around me. "Let us pretend that I accept your excuse," she said, shoving her nose practically into the point between my eyes. "I did not order you to step into the bondage frame. How did you know whether I wanted you to face me or face away from me?"
My tail was frantically seeking some point that would give me just a touch easier time standing like this, but my center of gravity was well outside of my control, and the only reason that I hadn't already fallen was she was providing me with an anchor point that I could brace myself against. Almost all of my weight was on my thighs, but she had control, and we both knew it. And my cock, the little bastard, decided that now would be a good time to remind everyone in the room of his presence. A thick pearl of pre formed at the tip, and got bigger, and bigger, and bigger, until it couldn't keep in place with surface tension and more and it started running down the glans and shaft. And it just kept coming. "D... did you just cum," she asked, her tone somewhere between disbelief and anger.
"No, Miss Juliet," I said, and as much as I tried, I couldn't keep the hint of a whine out of my voice.
She shoved upward on my head, setting me back upright, and then snapped, 'Turn around. On your knees."
Feline grace, please don't fail me now! I pivoted, and dropped down into a kneel all at once, hands back on my thighs, eyes on the floor in front of her feet. She moved one step forward, and nudged my cock with the toe of her high heeled shoe. "You are telling me that you're leaking, and that this is not the result of an orgasm?"
"Yes, Miss Juliet."
She slapped me. Fast. Sharp. Right across the muzzle. "Do not lie to me."
She knew how to do it right, too. Shock and pain, but no damage. No wrenching of the head, no chance of concussion. Hurt though. I almost said that I hadn't lied, but she hadn't asked me a question. And her shoe was still brushing along my dick, the contrast of the cool leather against the flesh was intense. Especially when she showed such a deft amount of control that she managed to keep any of my juices off of it even as she nudged and toyed with me.
"How could you prove to me that you were not lying right now?"
My mouth opened to respond with something like 'I could cum all over you' but I didn't, for two reasons. First, and most obvious, she'd already shown that she meant it when she said that she had no patience for any kind of snark. Second, and more important, I doubted she would think that I earned it. "You have three seconds to reply," she warned.
"I cannot prove it, Miss Juliet, without your order."
She wound up for another slap. "Explain yourself."
I flinched. I couldn't help it. She was about to slap me right in the same spot. "If I were to prove it, I would have to show you what one of my orgasms actually looks like, Miss Juliet. But you have not given me permission, and I doubt you think I deserve it."
She stood there, and for a moment, I thought that she would slap me. She lowered her hand, though. "You are correct. I do not think that you deserve it." She looked down at me and then made a 'tch' sound. "And now you've leaked all over my shoe. Clean it with your tongue."
Alright. Pause. Let me just say that I know that high heels are kinda bad. I know that it can cause problems, I know that it can hurt, I know that it's not a natural posture.
My dick absolutely does not care.
Powerful women in high heels are one of the many things that I can point to and say, "Because of this, I know that somewhere there is a god, and she's probably mad that we're always misgendering her."
You give me a chance to worship at the literal foot of that altar, and I'll sing praises the whole time that my tongue isn't otherwise occupied. Which... I mean, probably is going to be the whole time. Let's be real. If you have enough chance to say something when you're worshiping a woman, you're doing it wrong.
Why did I break the flow of the story just for that? What, did you think that I got distracted? Fuck no! I needed to make sure you understood the context of what happened next.
My cock flexed, and it shot out a glob of pre onto her shoe the size of most men's orgasms. I think that she may have not taken a swing at me because she was still deciding whether or not I was lying to her. I think that she may not have taken a swing out of shock. Either way, I know she didn't, because her hips and leg didn't twist. And I know that, because I was already on my way down to press my face against her foot.
High heeled pump, but not too high. 9 cm, maybe 10, 10.5 at the max. Red. Blood red, good leather, not that fake stuff. The toe came to a wicked point, and the top was laced back and forth with straps that were cut from the same material, not sewn in. I know. I checked. I ran my tongue all over the toe. I covered every single spare bit. I worked my way slowly up, alternating between kisses and licks, covering the leather as I scooted forward on my knees. FUCK but I wanted to get my hands on her leg. She was sculpted. I wanted to run my fingers along her calves until I could mold them from memory. But she'd said 'tongue', damn it. I made a point of putting my hands behind my back and lacing my fingers together.
I pushed my lips onto her ankle, daring to get closer to the heel of the shoe, and she started shifting around. I almost looked up. Almost.
"Are you purring?"
Was I? ... "Yes, Miss Juliet."
Tip five: Tip one does NOT apply when the lady has a short temper and a hair trigger.
"Carry on."
So I did. I was pretty much folded on top of myself, knees pressed to my chest as I searched for, and found, every last drop of my pre. Did I have to work my way down that spike heel to find the last drop? Mmmmmmmaybe not. But I did. Because I needed to be thorough. For. ... reasons.
"If you haven't finished by now, your time is up. Head down."
I did, and what happened next very nearly made my over-excited dick make a whole other mess to clean up. She lifted her foot and placed it on my lower back. "I can't see from here. Ass up." I lifted my hips, having to do so slowly so that I wouldn't topple her over, and give me time to scoot my knees back so that they were under my hips instead of my pectorals.
She shifted and moved her knee, changing the angle so that she could inspect my work. She took her time doing it, too. And in the meantime, I learned why they picked this particular weave of nanosilk. It's extremely absorbent. I was back in the state of practically spurting my excitement all over myself, and this new position gave the material a chance to hang in the correct position for a change, and the trailing end was keeping the carpet from becoming even messier.
"I've had better," she finally said, "but not from anyone who hasn't been my slave for years." She pushed off of me and stood on both of her feet again. "Kneel. Look up at me." I dropped my hips, and looked up at her, and she had removed her clothing except for her bra and panties. It was like staring up at a goddess of fury. She was regal, in her poise and her demeanor alone, and even if she wasn't physically "perfect", she was elegant and powerful. The panties clung to her mound, outlining it without being crass, nor being too feminine. Lace with lots of roses or bows would have probably been more feminine, but it would have detracted from her. The bra was a matching partner to the panty; both as red as the shoes, and it lifted her modest bosom up to its best effect.
"Do you want to fuck me?"
I felt like if I said anything before I swallowed, it would sound like I was drowning. "I want to please you, Miss Juliet."
She lifted her heel foot and placed it on my shoulder, bracing her knee as she leaned forward. "Clever answer. That's not what I asked you. I asked you if you wanted to fuck me. Now answer that question. You've got an erection and you just spent more time worshiping my feet than some of my own slaves have. Do. You. Want. To. Fuck. Me?"
I nodded. "Yes, Miss Juliet."
She pushed off of me, hard enough that I nearly toppled back. "I will think about allowing you that. Now get on your feet and get in the bondage frame. Face the wall."
I obeyed. Dick leading the way, I walked to the frame and put my wrists and ankles into position. The binding points sealed and inflated around me, and I gently pulled at all of my limbs to make sure that they weren't going to slip. I had no doubt at all that she was about to make me earn the chance to even see her bare vagina, let alone touch it with anything.
I heard fabric being moved aside, and then she walked up behind me. "Open your muzzle," she said, and the instant that I'd parted my lips, she hauled sharply back and stuffed a ball gag into my mouth, putting it behind my canines and then cinching the straps in place. My tail shivered, and then she put a blindfold on me. At that point I was having to fight to hold still. I wanted to writhe. I wanted to struggle and pull, to fight against this with every knowledge that it was futile. Last, she pulled my tail up and fastened the tip within a cuff that I just had to guess was built into the back of the gag's straps. It felt like if I turned my head, or even nodded, it pulled my tail along with it.
"I'd say 'let's warm you up' but I'm afraid that I would convey the wrong meaning." She did something, and I heard the slither of leather against leather. "To be more precise, let's start here, and see how it goes, shall we?"
And then .... Nothing. Nothing for seconds. I felt leather against my lower back, and before I even had a chance to process it, I bucked forward with an 'MMH!' into the gag. It made her laugh. And I knew exactly why. That hadn't been a stroke. She'd simply held the flogger upside down and suddenly dropped it so the tails brushed across me. It was a mean trick. It was cruel.
I needed more.
Next, she started using light strokes. Just barely enough wrist to snap the leather forward, and more than enough material remained behind the stroke that it felt more like someone throwing a wet towel at me end first than any kind of lash. I didn't buck this time, even though I was breathing hard. I didn't buck when she tried the same trick again. She stopped, and I felt her moving closer. "Open your hands."
What? Uh. I did. But I didn't know why. She 'tsk'd again, and then went to the controls. "Lock your knees," she ordered, and I did. Why? Because the cuffs were sliding in the frame, adjusting. End result? My toes could just barely scrape the floor if I fully extended and stretched. And now my fingers could press into the top of the frame. I was stretched a little more this way in my torso, but not painfully so.
Was it uncomfortable? Kinda sorta? I wouldn't want to maintain the position for hours, but I also wasn't in any kind of pain, and on some levels the stretch felt good in my back. "We're going to play a game now. I'm going to set a timer for ten minutes. I'm going to put a challenge coin under your toes and between your fingers and the top of the frame."
Ooooh, I did not like where this was going. I did not like where this was going at all. I felt her slipping metal disks in place, and then she ordered me to flex my fingers. The coins easily slid free, and I could hear the heavy clatter of them hitting the floor and bouncing into the frame's base. Then she said to flex my toes, and the coins scooted back.
"Good. Now you know what they feel like. I play this game with my slaves. They can go for 30 minutes. Let's see if you're as good as they seem to think you are. If you can keep all four coins in place for all 10 minutes, I will let you do anything you wish to me. If you lose one, you may fuck my pussy, on my terms. If you lose two, you may worship my pussy with your mouth. Three, and you simply get nothing. Lose all four, and I will cancel this contract, because Galatea Corporation clearly does not know how to provide a quality product to specifications on time."
Great. All I had to do was last ten minutes without knowing how much longer that would be. And I couldn't control my HUD yet. I tried thinking about the clock showing up. It did. I thought about resetting it. That didn't work. I thought about asking for a label. 'System time' it said over the numbers. I thought about the mission being over. Nope.
I heard the 'beep' of a clock, and I didn't even have time to register it before the lash hit my lower back. It wasn't a hard stroke. It honestly wasn't, I've been flogged by someone who bench pressed 150 kg, and that guy was MAD at me. I know what a hard stroke feels like. It wasn't a hard stroke. But it was fast. Wickedly fast, and I hadn't even heard the 'whoosh' of the straps.
It made me buck and shudder forward, groaning into the ball gag, and I barely had time to register the time of impact. 7:48:23.
The flogging, and it was a broad flogger, came steady and firm. Lower back. Ass. Between my shoulderblades. A few of them came from the side, spending most of their impact on my ribs. By 7:50:02 she practically had me dancing. I didn't have much in the way of control or mobility in the first place, and anything that I did pulled on either my wrists or ankles. She started working in a slow pattern, down my left side, then down my right. Faster. And faster. Each thud of the straps came almost exactly as the second ticked over, which told me that I was probably off of her count by a touch.
At 7:51:00 I suddenly realized that she was luring me into a trap. I had no idea what that trap would be. But I knew, I just knew that when that timer ticked over the three minute mark on her device, something would change. I was breathing hard, and while it's true that if you've got your arms over your head, it opens your chest and can make breathing easier. But that's only if you're not restrained. If your arms are PULLED over your head, that changes everything.
She took the next twenty seconds, and pulled back just a touch at the end of the stroke. You might think this is a good thing. It is not. It changes the impact from a thud, to a sting. It's hard to get the timing and distance right, but as she'd said, she's owned slaves for years. I don't doubt that this lady could make a rock sit up and beg if she had a flogger and five minutes.
I knew that it was coming, and I hoped that it would help. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. I've never been good at that whole counterfactual scenario thing. All I know is that I tried my best to just relax, to accept it, to be and to not think or feel about it.
7:51:23. The flogger fell.
And right on its heels was a second stroke, just as hard as the first, only this one was with much thinner strands. No more heavy thud. It was a broad sting, and she'd worked me up to the point that all of the blood was on the surface of my skin. Little white blood cell armies were probably protesting the sudden demand in service without an increase in wages. I couldn't help it. I screamed, surprise, and even fear running through me for a moment. My toes flexed, and the coin under my right food skittered free and landed against the frame of the rack with a muffled 'tong'.
"That's sad," she said, right before the thin lash came down again, from my right shoulder blade down toward my left hip. "I thought you said you wanted to fuck me." The left shoulder blade took the next one from the heavier lash. She ramped the intensity up, and before it hit 7:53 I was sobbing. I was barely able to think of how to respond to her questions, let alone keep the coins in place.
Didn't I want to put my cock in her pussy?
Nod.
Didn't I think that I'd earned it?
Head shake.
I needed to impress her. Did I think I was impressing her?
Headshake.
Did I think that I had what it took?
Nod.
Did I want to cum?
Nod.
Was I going to cum?
VEHEMENT headshake.
And then all of a sudden it stopped. I'd braced. I was ready. But there wasn't anything.
I checked the clock, tears streaming down my muzzle. 7:55:07.
Oh. Oh no.
I flinched, and I didn't even know why. She was rubbing my ear. I pressed my head into the hand. I knew it was a trap. I knew it. I did. I swear I knew it. I didn't have to look at the clock in my vision to know when the final three minutes started. Because she was petting my ear with one hand at the same instant that the paddle hit my ass. For just a moment, I thought that I was going to just purposefully flick all of the coins away.
But I couldn't. And while, yes, damn it, my body wanted to feel inside of Miss Juliet, I knew that I had to hold out. And it wasn't because I wanted to show this crazy bitch that I could take anything she could throw out. It was because I knew deep down that if I didn't, something bad was going to happen. To me. To Lei. To the whole lot of 32 of us.
Wait. How did I know that there were 32? I knew that Lei was 20. I was 16. When she switched to a crop at 2 minutes left I screamed because she had worked one section of my ass almost numb with the paddle, and suddenly the impact of the crop was on my other cheek. I don't know if she planned it. I don't know if she didn't realize it, but that was the leg that had already lost its coin, so when that leg needed to shake, I let it.
"Clever boy," she whispered, and then set to it with a will, and this time she was putting some actual muscle behind it. Nothing as powerful as I've had since then. But I've also had enough since then to know that she wasn't just idly swinging her wrist, either.
When it came down to the last minute, my muscles were shaking. I knew that I was supposed to be a climber, but there were limits on dead hangs. I tried to think about something. Anything. Name them. Name the other members of the class. In order. Ah.
SNAP.
Graham.
SNAP.
Dover.
SNAP.
Meru.
SNAP.
Tai.
SNAP.
On and on it went, each time I felt the impact, I just named a name. In order. From one to 32.
The last minute was brutal. For the first half of it, she alternated between the paddle and the crop.
The last half minute, she started going random.
The last 15 seconds, she went simultaneous.
I repeated my list at least twice, and by some weird coincidence, I said 'Lei' right as the timer beeped.
The paddle was already on its way, I could hear the 'whoosh' of it shoving air out of the way. When it connected, I started crying. Did it matter that it was the barest, tiniest of taps? No. It did not.
I hurt, and I was trembling. I could feel the coin under my left hand barely being pinned in place. Another ten seconds and I wouldn't have had even one.
"I'm impressed. You may drop-"
Both coins in my hand hit the ground and the one under my foot practically rocketed back as I flexed the muscles I wasn't allowed to use.
"--your coins," she finished, sounding slightly amused. The next touch made me flinch and cry out, a pinch just under my left shoulder blade. "Easy," she soothed, petting my hair and ears. "Easy. Relax. Just let it do its job." I had no idea what she was doing or talking about, right up to the point that I did. I felt the coolness spreading along my tenderized back and it felt like I was in heaven.
No, wait, heaven was when she did the same thing to my right shoulder blade. "It will take about 30 seconds. Give it time." The cuffs I was bound in whirred, and I felt myself being lowered to the ground, and once my feet were on the ground it was all I could do to keep my knees from buckling. I needed them to work right now. I needed the pressure off of my arms.
The healing agent that she'd put inside of me was doing its job, either numbing the pain or actually repairing it, I couldn't tell. And at that moment I didn't care. She pulled the blindfold off and I blinked rapidly, the shock of the bright lights too much for a moment.
She leaned in, and kissed my cheek. "Well done, Rocky. I don't say this lightly, but I'm impressed. When I started this game with my most experienced slave, he lasted the full ten minutes, but he'd lost all but one of his coins." She kept petting me, and guided my head onto her shoulder, running her fingers through my hair and fur as I sagged against her.
The position was slightly awkward, considering I was still raging hard from the intensity of it, and she had to shift her hips to push it to the side. "Whatever they did to you, I hope they keep around. This upgrade kit they promised is really something. I thought that they'd been feeding me a line of crap about doing something to make up for the delay. Now," she said, taking a step back and pushing me back as well so that I was upright-ish. "I'm going to release your legs first, and then your arms. One leg at a time. Get it under you and stable, then the second one. Arms next. Then you're going to go to the shower in the next room, and you're going to sit on the bench. Understand?"
I nodded. The pain was essentially gone at this point. She did as she said that she would, first one leg then the other. My arms came down, and without even thinking about anything else, I stumbled into the bathroom, and then into the shower to take a seat on the bench in the middle of the floor.
I wish that I'd been able to lean back against the wall. Instead I braced my elbows on my knees and leaned forward. It wasn't until then that I realized that I still had my gag in. I reached up for it, then froze. No. No, that would be a bad idea. I dropped back down to where my forearms were resting on my thighs, and a few seconds later she came in, naked.
Part of me was upset. I wanted to see her in those heels still, but I also knew that she said something about a shower, and she probably would nail my ears to her office wall if I ruined those.
She turned the water on, and adjusted the temperature, then started to wash me. She started with my face and hair, gentle caresses. Didn't take the gag off, though. She unclipped my tail from whatever cuff was there, and ran her hands through it, brushing the water and shampoo through it before she let it fall to the floor. She washed my back, then pulled at my shoulders so that she could do my chest.
I half expected her to jerk me off, but she didn't. She just lightly played her fingers along the fur where my hilt was, and then rolled my balls around. I think that she spent a little more time there than she absolutely had to, but I wasn't going to complain. Especially not with her breasts mashing into my upper back.
When she got to my legs, she ordered me to stand. I'd recovered enough at this point that I could do that, and she ran her hands through my fur, brushing water and soap in, then out. For someone who'd almost literally beaten me, this was far more tender treatment than the techs had given me.
"Are you stable now? Able to stand and function fully?"
I nodded, and reached up to touch the harness of the gag with one finger, raising my eyebrow in question.
"No, that stays on. You're not allowed to talk until I'm done with you."
I nodded my understanding.
And then the crazy bitch stood up and leapt into my arms! I made a sound of surprise and dismay, quickly cupping her butt so that she wouldn't just fall even as she locked her legs around my waist. "Now then. You have one test left."
I couldn't help it. I groaned. Now what?!
She fumbled between her legs to find my shaft and then pulled it until it was at the right angle. "I think that you've earned the right to prove that you didn't cum previously when I pulled your hair."
Oh! Well. Yeah I guess I could do that. She'd already lined everything up, so I shifted my hands a bit, and lowered her slowly onto me. I honestly don't know what I expected, but her groaning out wasn't it. I mean. Some kind of vocalization, sure. But not a simple, unmasked groan as I parted her and slipped within. She ran her claws through my fur, slow and easy, just some light touches. Seems that she decided that she'd already marked me once, more was unnecessary.
I took it slow for the first few strokes, making sure that I wasn't going to cause her any kind of pain. When I finally settled her against my hilt, she let out a hiss, arching slightly so that she pushed her chest into mine. "Alright, part one of the upgrade. Good. Now hold still," she huffed, and then started a rough, fast ride of me. Her legs were hard and lean, the kind that comes from running for kilometers without stopping. And I don't just mean a 10k. I had to let go of her hips and brace my hand against the wall as she bounced herself onto me, grunting as much as I was at the sudden intensity.
"You," she panted, "may not. Inside me."
I whined piteously. I needed this after everything she'd done to me!
She smacked my head with the tip of her fingers. "You didn't earn your choice. Now hold still while I finish. And don't you dare think about blowing until I do."
And then she got right back to it. It was nothing like it had been with Lei. I had almost zero control over this, and I wanted something! I tried to thrust a few times, but each time I did she growled at me, and the final time she actually bit my neck! "You move one more time and I'm going to put you back on the frame, and then I'll ride you there."
So... I stayed put. My arm had to flex just a bit in order to give her some stability and support, but for the most part, she took the lead and she refused to even think about giving any portion of it up.
Thankfully for both my legs, and my sanity, her orgasm hit quickly. She hissed and then let out a single sharp 'ah!' as it hit, and she ground and scrubbed her clit against my hilt. It was a short, but obviously intense release for her, and it's a good thing that we were still in the shower. She absolutely soaked me, and yes, I could tell the difference instantly.
Once she'd stopped thrashing around so much, I thought she was going to keep going and then pull off at the last second. Nope! She ordered me to put my hands on the wall, and then climbed off, moved to the side, and jerked me off. It wasn't a 'nice' handjob. It was fast, and a little on the rough side, exactly like she'd ridden me. I started making small noises in my throat, and she said, "Do it. Show me."
So I did. I came all over the wall, and when she saw the first blast, her eyes got a little wider. By the time the twelfth splashed against the tile, she was muttering something to herself about whether she should wait for a refinement of the process, or if she should do it now and avoid the rush for mods later.
I couldn't tell her that I doubted that it would ever be made a public release.
Heh.
'Release.'
She let go, and then started to turn the water off, telling me to go get one of the towels. I did so, and helped her to dry off completely, making sure that the undersides of her feet didn't get wet again on the tile by letting her stand on a portion of the towel while balancing against my kneeling frame. She told me to dry myself off and then come into the other room.
This apparently meant 'do it right the fuck now' because I was just starting on my legs with a second towel as she demanded that I move it. Why was I needed so badly? I had to help her dress, of course. I held the panties for her to step into and then set them on her hips. She stepped into her skirt, then held her arms out for me to put her bra on and fasten it in the back.
Honestly, I have no idea why there are so many legends about how hard bras are to deal with. Touch the ends of the magnet together, you're done. Want it off? Push down on the little tabs at the top and bottom of the clasp. Pull.
Guys must have been really incompetent back in the days before monopole magnets.
Blouse went on next, and then her jacket. She shrugged a couple of times, adjusting it, and then held her foot out, expectantly. I got on my knees again, and started to wind the laces up her calf. After I clasped them, I took the other heel in my hand, and let her brace on my shoulder, and whiiiiiiiiiiined up at her. I gave her the most piteous look I could. I tried to make my eyes grow wide, and somehow I even managed to make my lower lip quiver around the ball gag.
"What?"
Oh, that was just mean. I brought the heel up to my muzzle, and almost kissed it, then I looked back up at her. She rolled her eyes. "You want me to take your gag off so that you can kiss my shoes before I leave, don't you."
Nodnodnod!
"You're lucky that you're cute." She tried to frown down at me, but I don't think that her heart was really in it. She released the gag's straps, and then dropped it to the side so that it wouldn't get her dress wet with my drool.
I worked my jaw a few times, and I was building up to say 'thank you' when she said, "You're only getting to do this because you proved that you weren't lying. Now be quick about it. I have to get down to your final processing to sign the contracts and receipt of delivery, and then your equipment is being loaded into our shuttle while I give you and your class their initial indoc with Angelic Escapes." She tapped my nose and gave me a warning look. "And if you splatter yourself all over them this time, I won't let you clean them ever again. Understood?"
"Yes, Miss Juliet," I promised. I knelt down, and kissed her toe. Then her instep. Then her ankle on the inside. While I was doing that, I slipped the toe of the other one onto her foot, and pushed the heel into place. Kiss the toe of that shoe while working the straps up around her calf. Kiss the instep while clasping them in place. Kiss the inner ankle, and then I was done. She shifted her feet a few times, making sure that she was set before she turned and walked out the door. "I expect to see you down there."
With that, I stood and stretched my arms out, then did a couple of deep squats. Whatever that healing stuff was, I needed to get a ready supply of it.
Loincloth went back on. ... No, wait, this was a new one. Looks like someone came in while we were in the shower. Thank goodness, that one was absolutely soaked through. You ever walk with a wet loincloth? It's not comfortable. At all. The end is heavier than it should be and it swings around and it brushes up against your knees. Leaves little wet marks there. And knowing what's usually soaking the material, when it dries, it's all sticky and spiky.
I was about to walk out the door when Doc-Mandy came in, with her arms crossed, like she was pissed at me for some reason.
"Took your sweet time, didn't you?"
I checked the clock in my vision and then willed it away. "It was... what, half an hour?"
She grumbled. "More like an hour and a quarter."
Damn. I really did have some stamina.
"Well I think that I saved the contract," I said with my best attempt at a winning smile.
"Yeah. Well. Now you need to get down to processing so that we can get the full package loaded. For some reason that rush job failed. Those idiots probably had too much steam in the air and it corrupted the wireless data transfer."
I thought back to my 'hosing off'. There hadn't been any steam in the air at all. It was the coldest of cold showers. If you could even call getting hosed off a 'shower'.
"Whatever you say, doc," I allowed.
This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity or SoFurry page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.
This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.