Alone in Space Ch. 04

Author's note: There are two things I need to say about this story:

The first is that it's a little different to the usual exotic toys fest in this series. You have been warned.

The second is that I wrote the entire thing, and edited it, on a mobile phone using java text editors, and T9 predictive text. Because I could, bitches.

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Alone in Space Ch 04: Focus...

Jade hung in mid-air, turning gently in the soft breezes from the vents. Her eyes were lightly closed, her hands relaxed into soft claws and drifting by her sides. She was practising her Company-mandated meditation, and she was firmly of the opinion that she should get bonus points for having so much in her mind to clear it of.

It had been a directive awaiting her the last time she had landed at home base, and she had been surprised. Usually the Company made her life busy with more seemingly pointless exercises, not a complete absence of exercise.

She had even been prepared to be impressed.

She was no longer prepared to be impressed.

When you have nothing to do all day, the last thing you want to do is formalised nothing, and she could feel her tension levels increase and her brain hum.

She was enduring, rather than enjoying, and only because the computer was monitoring her.

In her slow drift in the ventilation breeze, she came up against a wall and, head-first, ever so gently bumped against it.

Her eyes flew open.

"Fuck!" She thumped the wall so hard that she was sent floating back across the cabin, drifting impotently in mid-air with no way to change direction or accelerate until she hit the other wall

"Pack of CUNTS!"

Eventually she impacted the other wall, and had enough purchase to deflect herself downwards to the floor, swearing continuously at whoever had made the the exercise room so big in every dimension.

From the floor she sent herself sailing towards the roof by the door, sailing off that and into the corridor, picking up speed around the belly of the Wolfhound until she caromed off the last section of wall and into the cockpit at a speed that made bells ring in alarm.

That had been another change at her last home-port call, and she had been even less impressed by that one. Every time she did something that an engineer in a cubicle somewhere had decided was just a little bit worrying, the ship bonged at her.

She caught herself against the back of her pilot's chair but did not flip into it, choosing instead to float above it and gaze out of the foot-thick quartz window that was her only unfiltered view of space, trying to convince herself that somewhere out there was a sight more meaningful or relevant than any other.

It was an unequal challenge and soon, unusually for her, she slumped in mid air and let out a sigh that was more depression than her usual angst.

It's hard to feel properly weary floating in mid air, so Jade pulled herself down into the seat, settled her left hand on the arm rest and with an almost unconscious flick of her fingers turned on the gravity.

When the weight settled onto every cell of her body, it had the desired effect: she could feel properly depressed.

Depression, however, is not permitted by the Company. Her suit, which constantly monitored her vital signs and metabolism via sensors in the left cuff, neck, over her heart and at least one other place she hadn't managed to work out yet, made its displeasure felt with a series of sharp, unevenly spaced shocks against her left wrist until she snapped out of it.

The first time this had happened, she had nearly snapped her own wrist against the edge of the console in rage.

Now she knew better, and sent herself roaring out of the chair, turning off the gravity with a reflex snap of her fingers as she went, twisting balletic in mid-air, pushing off the ceiling and caroming down the corridor, shouting at the control systems of the ship as she did so.

Her shouting just meant that when she once again sailed into the exercise room, it was waiting for her.

The gravity was also waiting for her, so she came in horizontally, near the ceiling, and as the front half of her body hit Earth-normal with a nauseous wrench she used that downwards drag to turn headlong flight into a forward tumble, coming out upright and bouncing on the balls of her feet, twisting her hips to bring her right leg up and launching off her left, hitting the bag so hard that it went most of the way to the ceiling.

She dropped into a forward southpaw boxing stance, and as the bag came back towards her she hit it with a jab-punch-elbow combination as she skipped backwards away from it, ending up with a full-blooded left high knee strike as it reached the extent of its swing. Following it back with low right-left-right-left boxing jabs before faking a downwards knock-away jab defence from Muay Thai, following up with the straight punch and then a head-height roundhouse kick to get her thighs into the action.

She switched to kicking only, trying out various styles that an observer from another era might recognise as being faintly Vietnamese, Chinese or Korean, before getting frustrated with the slower tempo of kicking and moving in for up-close low and high kneeing, dropping back again for left-right-left-elbow-right-elbow-elbow-elbow-head-uppercut rapid-fire combinations.

Then she let herself draw breath, and grabbed at a tube hanging from the ceiling to greedily suck water from it.

Her one-piece overalls, meant to be as versatile as they could be made, were starting to show her sweat, so she peeled them off, throwing them neatly into the laundry shoot which obediently opened in the wall.

That left her in the boringly non-descript regulation panties. Her small breasts rode high on a chest totally devoid of other fat and fit enough to flatter her by a cup size. The uniform didn't include a bra - something that dock workers always appreciated.

Free of the almost but not quite entirely elastic overalls, she bounced on the balls of her feet a little, moving stances and breathing in quick but deep breaths, then attacked the bag with the ferocity that had lost her sparring partners on all twelve planets and habitats of the circuit.

She didn't stop until her arms and thighs and calves felt like rubber and her knuckles were bleeding.

When she hit her limit she shouted "Clear the room!" before grabbing the drinking tube and sucking on it greedily with the energy that had kept her bed partners in all twelve planets and habitats of the circuit.

Terrific. Now she was horny from exercise, and nowhere closer to being able to fill her quota of meditation, and without filling her quota, she wouldn't be allowed luxuries, like the use of anything else in the gymnasium.

The cunts had her coming and going, and without filling their fucking stupid rules, she wouldn't be cumming.

"Pack of arse-holes!" she said out loud, daring the computer to respond. It gave her the same response it always did when provoked - silence.

Then she had a thought. It struck her so suddenly she stopped drinking with water still in her mouth, then had to swallow it and start laughing, in a voice tinged with hysteria.

"Computer!" She shouted.

It answered her in its normal, unreactive voice: "Yes, Jade?"

"Can I combine tasks?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can I combine tasks? Can I do my meditation while exercising?"

The computer was silent for a dozen heartbeats. Oh please, oh please.

"That is allowed."

In the silence of her head, Jade punched the air in exultation.

"Right! Bring out the chair! "

"You do not have enough..."

"Listen here, silicon breath! We have agreed that I may perform tasks simultaneously, haven't we?"

"Yes."

"Then I can meditate while enjoying my rewards, can't I?"

There was what could only be described as a pregnant pause.

"Yes."

"Huh!"

"However..."

"What now?"

"You will be using up reward points, and will be penalised if..."

"Understood, for fuck's sake! Bring out the fucking chair!"

"Your acknowledgement of the conditions has been noted," the computer said with what Jade suspected was sarcastic primness.

But, the wall opened and Jade's favourite toy came out.

"My baby," she cooed as the hardware locked into place.

The chair was like a blank slate to her: It sat in the centre of the room, bare of adornments and accessories, all possibilities still hovering in phase space and waiting for a decision to bring one of them to actuality and deny the rest of them existence.

But... Which one?

She would have to satisfy the computer that she was meditating, so she would have to maintain some form of steady altered mental state and one that would be appropriate!

Which left...

Damn. It was going to be the time factor again. It was always the time factor.

She was going to have to go slow. She hated going slow. She never could go slow without making it hard. Sorry, without making it difficult. Which meant simple. Which she... Was going to have to put up with, wasn't she?

The first step was to leave gravity on, but that wasn't so unusual. She peeled her panties off and walked slowly towards the chair, trying to set herself up for the right frame of mind, and very nearly succeeding.

She sat down, and her hands quivered on the armrests for a moment before she managed not to calm herself, but at least control herself, outwardly at least.

She couldn't afford to use the restraints. It was years since she had foregone restraints, but she couldn't afford it now. She turned those off, and almost felt the chair ask why in a plaintive, confused tone of voice but, being technology, it obeyed better than her groin was.

So that left the rest. She turned the nipple milkers, the breast pumps, the breast compressors, the mouth gags and dildos and all of the clamps off as well. She couldn't afford to lose concentration and self control and turn them on too soon, so she locked them for the session, and that took almost more self control than she had.

Everything anal was turned off and locked. And, although it nearly broke her heart to do so, all the clitoral tools and the electro-sex toys as well. She was almost crying by this stage, but there was only one toy she could afford to use, and so she locked herself to that: The smooth, medium sized, non-vibrating dildo.

She couldn't even remember the last time she had used that.

She was so wet that when it slid inside her she barely even felt it.

She certainly felt it when it bottomed out inside her, though.

Her whole body shuddered and she clenched her eyes shut, but the hollow feeling from the rest of her body was more torturous than the promise of slow teasing from the dildo.

As it slid slowly out of her, she tried to relax her eyes from squeezed shut to just lightly shut. When it reversed and slid back inside, making her whimper despite how little sensation it gave her, she breathed deeply, trying to stay relaxed and enjoy the internal massage.

It was a radical attempt to change a state of mind which had been seeking pleasure at all costs since she first felt a cock inside her, and she didn't manage it the first time.

She didn't manage it the second time, either.

As it began to impale her for the third time, she finally managed to ignore the sexualism of the stroking and enjoy it as a pleasant sensation.

As it withdrew and returned the next time, she almost gained some form of meditative composure.

It wasn't until the fifth stroke, however, that she finally achieved a reasonable impersonation of a higher state of consciousness.

She even managed to forget that every sexually charged nerve ending in her body was screaming for the abuse that made her cum like a fire hose and scream like a raped pig.

On the next stroke, she almost remembered that and it was almost her undoing.

She had to relax her body and keep her mind focused, and do it while not reacting to what was slowly becoming exquisite but madness-inducing torture.

As the shaft bottomed out inside her, she reflexively tried to lift herself off it, sucking in her breath in a deep, shuddering gasp.

Breath! Yes, that was it! Perhaps she could distract herself by focusing on her breath!

The next time she was penetrated, she breathed in with it, but that only heightened the sensations, so she had to stumble over the next cycle and breath out with penetration, in with withdrawal.

That was bearable.

That, she could just about cope with.

On the next cycle, it was slightly more bearable. By concentrating hard, she could, just barely, distract herself from even noticing the intrusion.

As the torture continued, focusing on every little aspect of every breath brought her a form of stability, and then control.

As time wore on, it even brought her composure.

Her breathing, slow and deep and as steady as planetary orbits, became the foreground, and the slowly entering and withdrawing stroke from her lips all the way inside her now needily tight cunt as far as it could go, became the background.

The piercing, exquisite assault on her senses that threatened to unscrew the top of her head became a slow, pulsating glow in her groin and in her womb.

Time became marked out not by seconds or her heartbeat but by the slow pulsing of breath matched by the pressure and glow inside her.

She barely even noticed that her breasts had become swollen with blood or that her nipples were standing out nearly an inch from her flesh and would have made her scream with the faintest feather-light touch.

Even the plaintive scream of abandonment from her erect clit went unheeded. It was therefore a matter of some surprise when a gentle chime sounded in her ear.

Part of her body jerked into wakefulness automatically, part of her mind wondered what it was. Part told the rest that it was the signal that her meditation session was over, but as this was going on, another part paid attention to the sensations in her groin.

"OH, FUCK ME!"

Her orgasm, held back by lack of conscious attention, lifted her off the chair. Habit, long-used to restraints, kept her fingers clenched, white-knuckled, on the arms. Her scream caromed around the room and echoed back at her.

She had lifted herself as the dildo was withdrawing, and as it automatically followed her and began its next calm insertion she convulsed again.

She had not given the chair any instructions on what to do when she came, so it did nothing, and continued to slowly stroke inside her. When she collapsed back onto the seat and the dildo, it felt as though she was about to burst.

Her fingers scrabbled desperately for the controls, but then another slow insertion lifted her up again, and drove another wail of ecstasy from her.

When she collapsed that time, the final withdrawal of the dildo made her over-sensitive flesh scream in pain, and she finally managed to hit the off button.

There was a decisive click, a slight pause and then the shaft withdrew completely from her, leaving her sore and aching.

She needed a couple of deep, shuddering breaths to regain focus, and then she turned the gravity off so that she didn't have to support her own weight any more.

She drifted gently off the chair, but was asleep before she had entirely left it.