Incipiunt Vitae Novae Pt. 04: Resurrection

Not so much Ariel. After each execution he remembered every second of his brutal torment right up to the moment of his death, but afterward the memory of the agony and suffering soon faded, dissolved in his adoration for Jen, his longing for the experience of being terminally tortured by her. Sooner or later he would insist on repeating it, thankfully by now only occasionally requesting tweaks to the script. His mind, temporarily uploaded into the vast computational cosmic consciousness, could at the start of each session be cleared of any direct recollection of the previous ones, allowing him to experience the horror afresh.

***

Michael suggested they move to the kitchen. He was tired, but he was also hungry. Michael was an excellent cook; he loved the visceral, primal feeling of intimacy with food in preparation. He loved watching the reactions of his guests as they savored the textures and flavors of his creations, and he hadn't done it for over a year. Running his hands over the gleaming stainless steel surfaces he recalled the lively dinner parties he'd provisioned; Hermann Strauss in his silky tails, musicians post-concert in tuxedos, at other times in just about anything or occasionally nothing. Office of Correction representatives turned out in their stiff, formal uniforms, JenLiz models and staff dressed in every kind of kink. However they looked or dressed they were all human, all needing to eat. Gabe was a good cook too, though more interested in the result than the process; he and Michael had enjoyed cooking together frequently so Michael was confident he'd find ingredients for something satisfactory whether Gabe lived there full-time or not. Gabe cared about Liz and Sara enough to see to that.

Liz fetched a bottle of wine and the remainder of a baguette Gabe sent over fresh for that morning's breakfast, as Jen and Sara set the table and sat down beaming. Michael scanned the pantry and fridge. This needn't be complicated, it needed to be quick. He could see Jen was starting to flag and he wouldn't be good for much longer himself, since they both still needed more than the normal amount of rest in a day.

They'd had to eat, of course, while their bodies were being repaired, but there was no physical kitchen or any apparent food preparation facility in the space they'd occupied. As far as they knew they were the only biological beings there. Once they'd recovered enough to dispense with intravenous sustenance, their food, unimaginative though decent tasting, simply appeared whenever they needed it. They couldn't leave the space bodily, but they didn't feel like prisoners - they could enter the computational cyberworld whenever they wished, creating virtually any environment they could imagine, and Michael used that opportunity to explore the vast stores of knowledge available to him there - somehow the thought of cooking in cyberspace just didn't seem that attractive.

Now, back in the kitchen at HOB, it did. Michael cast his eyes over the possibilities, settling on a shiny red pepper and some plump portobello mushrooms. Cheese? Yes, a fine wedge of cheddar. There were eggs - an omelette would be fast and do just fine. Who cared if it was the middle of the afternoon? They'd have a late brunch. There was arugula also, and some nice mandarin oranges. He didn't see walnuts or almonds, but he was pretty sure they would be in the usual place when he was ready. He peeled and sectioned three oranges and shredded some cheese.

Gabe made sure the knives in the HOB kitchen were kept exquisitely sharp - Michael reduced the pepper to bite-sized chunks in no time. It was a pity to slice the beautiful mushrooms but to make an omelette you have to break eggs; a stainless bowl stood ready for those too. The whisk was at hand, the oil hot in the pan on the vast range - Michael chuckled to himself whenever he cooked on it with just one burner. He danced between the pan and the salad plate, arranging the arugula and placing the orange pieces deftly.

Sara took over the salad, fetching almonds and walnuts to spread over the top as Michael gave full attention to the omelette, closing it over and removing it almost immediately to the serving plate - it would cook a little while longer with its own heat. Sara helped bring everything to the table, fetched oil and balsamic vinegar, and they sat down.

As he began eating with his friends for the first time in a year (from his viewpoint) Michael decided that he really shouldn't, if he could avoid it politely, divulge any more about the world from which he and Jen had just returned. He'd work out with Jen just how they should approach keeping their stories consistent - later. He glanced at her and read as much in her tired face.

To change the subject he inquired about life since they departed, suddenly realizing why Jen was sinking so fast. They'd consumed no alcohol during their sojourn. They could get as plotzed as they wished in cyberspace - hangovers were optional - so there was no need to subject their bodies to the challenge physically - now they'd have to work back up to that pleasure if they wanted to indulge. Sara poured Jen only a little wine when they first sat down but the effect was telling - she wasn't going to last much longer today. Michael decided to forgo wine for now.

Liz brought them up to date on the current living situation. Before her sacrifice Jen had begged Gabe to take good care of Liz, suggesting he move in to comfort her. Even after she knew for certain she'd be returning she didn't regret her request, wanting Liz to be happy without her. After all, she had no idea how much time might pass before her reappearance. Now that she was back, and after such a short absence, she had misgivings; she wasn't upset to hear that Gabe hadn't stayed. She wasn't worried any more for Liz, who sat across from her, smiling radiantly.

Liz talked a bit about things at the Office of Correction, asking Jen if she would resume her post - she hoped she would. Jen assured her she looked forward with relish to her first session back, as soon as possible (she omitted that she'd been practicing regularly in cyberspace, but it just wasn't the same experience). Sara talked a little about her musical progress, sensing that Jen and Michael needed conversation-filler to eat while they lasted.

Jen finished up, made her apology and headed upstairs to the third floor back bedroom, nominally Gabe's, now hers again. He'd almost always slept with Liz in her room in front when he was there, so she found it little changed. Her clothes still hung neatly in the comfortably fitted-out walk-in closet - she glanced with fond amusement at her punishment session uniforms - some alterations might be in order. She stretched out on her bed and sank into a deep, satisfying, dreamless sleep.

Michael excused himself from the table shortly after Jen, ascending in the elevator to the fourth floor, where he found his study exactly as he'd left it. Each found it odd that so little had changed, since over a year had passed for them. They now knew HOB and its earthly surroundings had aged much less than that but they still found it hard to internalize. Liz made sure the spaces were cleaned regularly since they left, out of respect, out of habit, so everything was pristine. Michael collapsed on his bed without bothering to turn on his computers or check anything out - he wouldn't have found anything amiss if he had.

Liz and Sara cleared the table and returned, happier than they'd been in months, to their respective tasks. They didn't have much of the day left - they needed to be at the studio that evening for a custom shoot with a well-heeled client. Sara wanted to continue practicing, but she only played through passages she knew well - Jen probably wouldn't be able to hear much two floors away, but that way she'd find the music soothing if she did. Liz applied herself to reviewing the following day's victims with renewed vigor, scanning the profiles diligently.

As she worked a nefarious plan bubbled into her consciousness. She chuckled to herself; it felt so great to laugh again. More than a year had passed since the Wentworth sisters, together with their friend Bev, endured a mock execution at Khalidah's hands, since Liz began cultivating Virginia Wentworth's dominant side, starting by taking her to view a punishment session where she'd watched Bev suffer as a volunteer filling a vacancy in the lineup. Jen conducted that session and as Liz hoped, Jen impressed and excited Ginny enough to get her over the hurdle into her exploration of domination.

Once she did, Liz took Ginny to clubs, to private sessions with friends, even to a few shoots at JenLiz. She turned out to be a natural, clearly inheriting her aunt Barbara's lineage. Her technique, empathy and self-awareness advanced rapidly - she also was having the time of her life. Liz insisted that she experience some domination herself, both with Liz and with some of her friends. Not with Jen though; she was afraid Ginny might find that a bit beyond her limits since Jen had become rather jealous of the time Liz spent with her. Ginny didn't much care for bottoming but understood and accepted the BDSM community's mantra for tops in that regard.

Partly out of selfishness, partly because she thought Ginny would be really good at it, Liz suggested she consider becoming a State Tormentor. Liz had been at it a long time and wanted to move on and spend more time at the studio - with Ginny to pick up some of the reigns she might be able to step aside graciously. Jen's sickness put paid to that idea, but it also put Ginny on a fast track. Very soon Ginny would have to face the challenge, the tradition that Tormentor candidates, once they were about to be hired, had to endure a session themselves. She thought back fondly to the session in which she made Jen suffer, in which she and Jen fell in love. Of course she wouldn't be able to pull the trick on Ginny that she had on Jen, making her think she would be punished privately rather than as one of seven. Ginny had already viewed a session, knew how it all worked. But there was another surprise she might be able to pull off.

The Tormentors were always on the lookout for female volunteers. The seven-victim sessions required at least two women, usually on poles two and six, to be effective - it wasn't clear why this mattered but Michael had some ideas. There often weren't enough women relative to the number of male malefactors. A negotiated stipend could help fill a vacancy, but some might be persuaded for less than others. Any submissive woman new to the scene sooner or later found herself courted, and if she showed interest, she might be invited to view a session. When Liz accompanied a potential volunteer to the viewing gallery she could usually tell if an application would appear in a few days.

Not long before Jen sacrificed herself she'd pressed Angie, Ginny's sister, into viewing one of her sessions with Liz as chaperone. Angie was obviously intrigued, but didn't volunteer as Liz expected - she suspected that Bev, knowing what it was really like to be tortured by Jen, had talked Angie out of it. Soon after Jen died, Angie's application did come in. Liz was not a little irritated - she was aware that, in contrast to Jen, she had a reputation for going easy on volunteers though she tried her best not to. Bev probably eased up on dissuading Angie, maybe even repeating that rumor, the bitch. She'd considered asking Khalidah to investigate but hadn't gotten around to it - even if it turned out to be true there wasn't much she could do about it. So much for Bev. But if she timed it right, Angie and Ginny were in for a surprise. To get these ducks in a row Michael and Jen's return needed to remain a closely guarded secret for a little while longer. She probably wouldn't see either of them again today to discuss her plan, but she doubted they'd be out and about in the morning before she could.

***

Jen woke up in the middle of the night, quite refreshed. It was going to take a few days to get back in sync - this was no ordinary jet lag. She yawned, stretched, turned on some lights, eased her body upright and walked to the mirror to gaze at her restored body, back in her own world at last, Her skin glowed, her muscles, not bulging but perfectly defined, rippled in the reflected light. Her somewhat more prominent breasts projected her woman-power even without any special covering, just as she'd always wanted, They'd be great under leather, arousing and terrifying her victims in the punishment chamber exquisitely - she didn't need to try anything on just now - she'd experimented plenty in cyberspace and knew they were perfect. Her chin, formerly a little more projected than she liked, now aligned her features to a stunning combination of beauty and severity. Her hair, black and silky and long as before, had no trace of grey and wouldn't, for a very long time.

Jen reveled in her beauty, but she was no Narcissus - she loved beauty in others too, loved being a sensual, sexual women. She felt her need rising from her neatly trimmed jet black cleft, surging through her whole being, and she wanted to share it, now. She swirled a lacy black gown over her shoulders and went into the hall. Michael would have woken by then, she thought, but just in case he was still sleeping she tried to be as quiet as possible as she climbed to the fourth floor.

Michael was indeed awake. He sat pensively in his study, his face lit by his multiple monitors. He was sorely tempted to make notes of all he'd learned, but he knew he absolutely must not do that. To distract himself he'd reviewed some of his previous work - he was pleased how close many of his hunches turned out to be, but that wasn't a very effective distraction. He was about to start a JenLiz scene he particularly enjoyed when Jen's reflection appeared in the screens - distraction accomplished. He turned and rose to greet her.

"Good midnight, Jen. Are you here for the same reason I had to resist going down to wake you?" Their arms closed around each other, their mouths meeting in an easygoing, passionate kiss.

They'd spent a year together, three quarters of it sufficiently recovered to spend time outside their therapeutic pods. With no-one else there physically but Ariel, with respite from enforced togetherness available in cyberspace whenever they wanted, they'd developed a comfortable familiarity. They'd been sexually intimate before at HOB, but that usually involved Michael in some sort of bondage as Jen experimented with techniques or devices she might use at work or in the studio. Michael had matured thoroughly since he lost his virginity during their shared punishment under Liz. She found him cute then.

She didn't find him cute any more - he'd grown up, become a man, one she thoroughly respected. A pain slut yes, when that's what he was doing, but gloriously competent sexually, a kind and attentive lover, as she, a cruel dominatrix and Tormentor when she wanted, was every bit a sensual, vibrant woman. Ariel wasn't jealous of their relationship - he got as much of Jen's virtual attention as he could safely withstand. Michael was no more interested in sex in cyberspace than he was in cooking in cyberspace - he explored the intricacies of science there. In their physical living space he'd learned to enjoy exploring Jen's gorgeous body inside and out as they recovered their strength and health, and she'd come to love it when he did.

Michael had to be returned to their original present for the future to happen, at least to happen in the way his hosts intended, and he insisted on several conditions before he would agree. First, Jen and Ariel must, if they wished, return with him. Jen was thrilled.

Ariel vacillated, eventually deciding he really was happy to stay. In addition to being tortured regularly by virtual Jen, he could play the piano and study music to his heart's content in the virtual world. Since music was always more of an intellectual activity than a physical one for him, and he couldn't be executed over and over again in real life, he finally decided he would not return. He no longer needed his body, and his recovery pod was removed from the living space. Michael talked with him regularly in the virtual space afterward, and quite understood why he might have made this decision. For Michael the choice wasn't available; he was relieved he didn't have to make it. Giving up the incredible intellectual resources of cyberspace was going to be more painful than a punishment session with Jen.

So Jen would be going back with him, but Michael imposed some more conditions. Since their bodies were under renovation anyway, Michael requested a few improvements. He'd always wanted to be a little taller, and more muscular, though he knew he'd have to work out to maintain it. He insisted also on being made a bit thicker and longer, and given more stamina - all was signed, sealed and delivered.

Jen mostly liked herself as she was, but she had Michael request a couple of changes for her too. It embarrassed her to ask for a modest increase to her bust - what an awful, stereotypical desire, she thought. But it would make a powerful impression in the punishment chamber - she was rather jealous of Liz in that regard and could justify, well, excuse, the request on professional grounds. A bit more musculature, the better to dance and wield the whip, and a permanent tan - no need to expose herself to the hazards of the sun or tanning booth.

They were granted one more benefit. All predispositions to disease were removed from their genes. If they lived a healthy lifestyle and avoided accidents they could both count on a long life, provided the rest of the world cooperated - that was unfortunately not a given. The only downside was that the risk of unanticipated effects on the future if their too-perfect genomes propagated was significant; they had to agree that, while they would be able to have great sex, Jen would not be able to become pregnant, and Michael's sperm could not fertilize anyone's ova. They were both OK with that - they would affect the unfolding of the future plenty without having to produce biological offspring.

Michael's improved penis expanded gently against Jen's groin as he folded her into his arms - she melted to his body with a sigh of pleasure. He took her hand and led her to his bedroom where they remained standing as he eased off his clothing and closed her gown around both their otherwise naked bodies, gently moving closer. Michael's erection grew more powerful by the second. He reached down to catch Jen's oozing juice and spread the fragrance of her desire over his chest; thus oiled they slid deliciously back and forth against each other.

Kissing her fervently, Michael eased her onto the bed, onto her back. Both of them had engaged in enough extreme activities that missionary position held its own novelty. Unprotected sex was a luxury they could still afford, for a little while. They both knew they'd soon have other partners and this particular delight would have to end but for now the intense pleasure of his smooth, hard shaft directly between her nether lips, gliding in bare on the lubrication of her arousal set them both ablaze, demanding Michael's utmost concentration - he must not come yet.

Jen lay still, enjoying the fullness of his erection as he continued growing inside her, as he sucked gently on her engorged nipples, kissed and licked her between her breasts, as they explored each other's mouths, though there weren't many more secrets to be found there by now. Then they both began to move, slowly at first, his shaft sliding smoothly against her clitoris as she moaned softly in his embrace. They didn't need to hurry - Michael would stay hard as long as they wished, moving against her, then still, as she led him in the dance. Then he took the lead, pumping in and out as her arousal mounted. She embraced him, holding him close, slowing his movements, pressing him deeper.