Incipiunt Vitae Novae Pt. 06: Purgatory

OH, OH, AHHH...AIEEE... Twenty four and three quarters, twenty four and seven eighths, AHHHH...

Jen's a millisecond late. A moment's inattention, or deliberate - who will ever know? Angie's rocket roars, blasting her out of hell - heaven's within reach now; she grabs it firmly, desperate for relief. She knows what will happen next and she's powerless to prevent it.

OWWWW...AIEEE...

Michela concedes a tie as Angie's clit explodes with electric fire, brutally terminating her orgasm at precisely twenty five seconds.

I suppose I made her come again, Ginny observes, but it wasn't exactly my choice. I'm not about to atone for that one.

Jen cuts the connections leading to the lockup. Angie and Ginny relax, for a moment. One epic battle's done, but another must continue. Jen starts setting up the next connections.

Oh God no Jen, no, please...don't...make me fuck my sister.

I struggle, unfamiliar fury rising in my gut as Jen wires my body into Ginny's crotch and turns on the paths. I didn't think, watching Ginny and Bev involuntarily forcing each other to climax- interruptus, that Jen would do this to us. I recover control, trying to stay as still and relaxed as possible, but we both know Jen will make that impossible soon enough. I admire the stoical expression on my sister's face.

I wonder if we'll ever be able to talk to one another again...

Jen gives Angie a slight tweak and Ginny squirms, her face expressing nothing but resignation. She hopes Angie doesn't wind up with the guilt she's had to deal with. Perhaps she'll come to terms with it, recognise that it's Jen's doing it, not her.

Don't do it Jen, Michela admonishes. They'll hate each other, they'll hate you. I can tell you, based on everything I've studied in the last few seconds that this will not work.

Jen's annoyed, but she takes a moment to think it through, and agrees, thankful Michela's helped her dodge a big mistake. The pelvic connections disappear one by one as she wires them together more conventionally. The audience rustles, some disappointed, others relieved, Khalidah especially. Michael's impressed but remains telepathically silent, glowing with private pride.

OK Angie, I let you off that time, Jen's contralto buzzes in Angie's brain. Now show me what you can do - you can't afford to lose this fight, can you?

Ginny and Angie both remain as relaxed as possible, really not wanting to hurt each other.

Don't disappoint me, Angie - I'll get you started...

Jen gives Angie a massive stimulating pulse, acting out her own disappointment as she does so. She wants this battle over with. Ginny convulses, howls in pain, and glares with fury at both of them. Game on.

Ginny convulses as hard as she can, deliberately. It hurts just as much as before but she doesn't howl, she hardly notices the pain as she relishes the astonished shriek she gets out of her sister.

AIIIK...OWWW... Jesus, that hurt.

Not me, I didn't cause that, Jen's voice booms in her brain, Ginny did it all by herself, ha ha!

We fight tooth and nail, like the teenage sisters we once were. I feel so angry, so unsympathetic - I'm sure Jen's stirring up memories from my brain's gooey sump - I suppose she's stirring Ginny's too, based on her present cruelty - OWWW, OWWW, ARRGG. Jesus I'm tired - Jen's hammered me on that orgasm-stopper how many times now...? I just want a rest.

Ginny wants one too. She slumps back, hardly responding to Angie's fading attacks. God I'm exhausted - I suppose I should have known I'd have to fight two battles today.

Angie's won. Time for orgasms, this time with permission to go to term.

Do you get a rush administering forced orgasms? To women? To men? To any regardless of self-identification? It could be part of your job - this isn't your grandfather's torture chamber we're in. You can make it pleasurable or painful, as you wish, as long as your victims experience a thorough whole-body climax. You might do it for your own pleasure, or simply because it's in the standard operating procedure - it doesn't matter - your hapless charges' sensitivity will be gratifyingly magnified regardless. They will regret it sorely for the rest of the session - but they'll have no choice in the matter.

Jen moves in front of Three, smiling sadistically. He has no way to know that this time the suppressor will not activate - he'll be terrified as his arousal level climbs relentlessly, as she holds him on the edge for minute after pain-pleasure minute, until her target moment, a little less than four minutes, arrives. Three squirms in his bonds, wondering what's about to happen to him this time.

He's helplessly suction-swollen in his oversized sleeve. It starts to pulse a little, to slide slowly over the surface of his aching prick. He has no control whatever over his response which is pretty much what one would expect. Jen doesn't make it too pleasant. She grinds his ass, the probe thrusting deep into his rectum, twisting, expanding painfully. She stays well clear of his prostate for now.

The correction board turned up an interesting tidbit, sealed but not well-hidden, while researching his background. Jake, that's Three's name, played on the football squad in high school; a decent player, a bit heavy, good on the line, possibly smart enough but not fast enough to be quarterback, and the quarterback, inevitably, was steady with Jake's fantasy love Veronica - who insisted everyone call her Veronique.

Jen stirs her mind-swizzle in Jake's subconscious, pokes it deep, lifts the suppressed memory to the surface.

They raped me...

Four of his team-mates held him down.

I didn't fight back, I thought it was a joke at first - I'd just turned eighteen, thought maybe they planned to give me a birthday spanking.

It stopped being fun when Veronica and two of her girlfriends ran over. Held face down, Jack couldn't see her lubricating - at least she knew she should - the big dildo she'd stolen out of her parent's dresser. Her friends pulled down his pants.

I fought back then but my team-mates held on tight - I'm sure they'd been promised Veronique-blowjobs if they managed not to let me go. I wonder if she delivered - I doubt it, the cunt. God it hurt when she shoved it up my ass. They all let go at once and ran off laughing, leaving me to pull the fucking thing out and throw it away myself.

But Veronica wasn't exactly the nasty bitch Jake remembered. She'd received a head injury in a rock climbing accident when she was in middle school, was in a coma for several weeks, was never quite the same afterward, though she wasn't deemed in need of special accommodation.

She was held back a year and by dint of hard work and her parents' efforts she did OK, barely, in school once she recovered. A year older than her classmates, she had the advantage of more advanced physical development to offset her psychological disabilities. She was an enthusiastic cheerleader - her friends put up with her odd disconnectedness on account of her attractiveness and simple-minded happiness.

Veronica thought Jake was gay - someone he'd bullied started a rumour. She thought he'd enjoy the penetration like she did, both ways by then, and planned to go down on him once it was in. She hadn't quite thought through how she was going to do that with him held face down.

In any event the show ended abruptly. They heard a noise, thought it was the custodian. They let go and ran. They weren't laughing, just crashing through piles of leaves blown up by late-fall gusts as they sprinted for the woods, and it wasn't the custodian, just a dog scrabbling as dogs do when they feel good. That didn't help Three - good thing football was almost over since he played with little enthusiasm after that, though he did finish out the season. One of the grippers 'fessed up, spilled the whole story.

The dust settled; no action ensued. Everyone except Jake went on pretty much as they had before. Veronica's parents wondered where their dildo might have gone, but it wasn't one of their favorites so they didn't give it much mind once they assured themselves it wasn't lying somewhere around the house.

Does any of this matter? After all, Three's done far more damage since than was done to him, it would seem.

Penny for your thoughts... Khalidah jerks out of her reverie - clearly Michela's speaking just to her, expecting an answer. She doesn't know how to communicate telepathically, but she figures all she has to do for now is open her mind. In a fraction of a second Michela conveys the sordid history. Khalidah frowns. Michela should have asked for her thoughts after telling her the story, not before. But she's learning.

Give me a moment to think about it, Michela. I expect we're both wondering if Jen's just doing the same thing Veronica did back then.

Not quite the same, Khalidah - Jen's going to follow through. Hee, hee...

Khalidah likes forcing her bottoms to come, but she's not about to laugh at this one. Is that just because she's too polite, too PC, she wonders. Should she share this thought with Michela?

Too late, Khalidah - I'll have to teach you to close your mind faster when you want to. But maybe I should take this all more seriously...

This conversation certainly doesn't matter to Jake, whose four minutes are just about up. He twists and squirms, the probe in his ass grinding away, exploring closer to his prostate. His sleeve slides relentlessly over his turgid cock, his eyes gripped in Jen's steely gaze. No, he thinks, Veronica wasn't at all like this, this ice-cold talon-endowed intelligence crushing him without mercy. As he approaches the precipice Jen reminds him of the suppressor's horrid jaws enclosing his painfully swollen prick - maybe this time she will cut it off. He deserves it. Or does he? Jen presses his probe firmly against his prostate. Jake's climax explodes with excruciating intensity. He shudders in his bonds.

He doesn't deserve to be amputated, but he certainly deserves to be terrified. He's also confused; the jaws aren't closing. Jen forces his probe deeper, compressing his prostate painfully, forcing him to pump his very core into his sleeve.

Over and over he convulses as she brutally aids and abets his squeezing out every last drop. He fears he'll ejaculate his brain next, but he doesn't, quite. He slumps back, exhausted, thoroughly drained of the animus now safely sequestered in the saddle, marked and chilled. After the session's over it will go to the Neuroscience Institute, to be studied in hopes of understanding the criminal mind better.

Would he be here today, would any of his victims have suffered as they did, if it weren't for that dog... Khalidah muses. So much for innocent bystanders.

Michela's already run dozens of scenarios, calculated the probability, within a few percent.

No, he wouldn't, she replies, But really, shouldn't we instead be asking if he'll be back for impact punishment? Right now my best guess is fifty-fifty inside twelve months.

Khalidah re-imagines the scene in a safe setting, a bedroom, maybe even in a dungeon, consent obtained all round, Jake's friends holding him for his birthday deflowering as Veronica gently eases in the dildo while pleasuring him to his first non-self-induced orgasm.

Preposterous! Could pre-twenty-year-olds ever have that kind of maturity. She snickers.

Funny, you think, Khalidah? I rather liked it...I ran simulations - I'll tell you later.

What's that odd feeling Michela's experiencing? Oh crap - wait 'till JenLiz gets the computational resources bill this month. Better lay off the sims for now...

Jake's thoroughly confused now. Why would he be made to come - the most intense orgasm he's ever had, he admits grudgingly - here, of all places.

He figures it out fast. All the aches, pains and cramps of his stringent bondage rush back in triplicate, flooding his consciousness, telling him all he needs to know about why. He's lost his battle. Jen smiles, looks him directly in the eyes, moves gracefully sideways to face Bev.

Oh Jen... Oh Jen, I'm falling in love with you. How can I resist your spell?

This is how Jen terrifies Bev. Not with physical pain, severe though that can be. It's her alluring physicality, her intelligence, her Barbara-ness, her very being. It's the emotional pain Bev fears so much.

I came so close last time, when you locked eyes with me and drove me to climax, drove me to the peak of insanity, each exhilarating minute out-thrilling the last, until I roared over the edge, bound in your magical thrall. So close, so close. Khalidah will be so hurt, Angie will be pissed, my friends will hate me...

Jen would like to speak with her, to assure her that she's with real friends, including Jen herself, who'll go to the ends of the earth to help her through any emotional fallout. She won't be cast out alone.

Have you ever been contractually obligated to make someone come, someone you care about a lot, someone you knew could easily fall in love with you, knowing that's not what either of you want?

No? I didn't think so.

Jen daren't risk exposing her telepathy to Bev, not just yet - Bev's too much of a blabbermouth. They'll just have to deal with it later. She checks in with Khalidah. She wants to keep her friendship too.

I don't want to steal your lover, trust me, even if she does fall in love with me. We'll work this out. I intend to keep all our friendships intact.

Khalidah smiles.

I know, Jen. I trust you. I trust Bev too, in spite of her latent self-destructiveness. I'm amazed how much progress you're making on that right here, right now. Punish her well for me.

Jen continues speaking telepathically to Khalidah but suddenly I'm overhearing the conversation.

Separate topic - I'm planning to take ownership of Angie. That's OK with you, right? Just think 'yes' or 'no.'

Khalidah continues smiling.

'Yes'

Jen looks at me and grins. I shiver, a delicious wave of thralldom reverberating through my immobilized body.

She seems pretty shareable - I promise I won't be too possessive...

I'm not exactly on the auction block, but bound in my hogtie I might as well be, the way Jen and Khalidah are negotiating my future. I tremble with fearful delight even though it's Bev's turn, not mine.

Bev bounces slightly as Jen makes fine adjustments to her pole, bringing their eyes into precise alignment. The audience rustles appreciatively - this should be good.

Jen stares straight at Bev, locking her gaze, inviting her to explore, to think not just about the cuffs presently restraining her body, but all the bonds connecting her with humanity, with her living friends, the community, Angie, Khalidah especially. No steely sadism radiates from Jen this time, just kindness, just friendship. Know, Bev, that your life is not yours alone. We love you and we count on you to respect our love, to value our friendship.

Hey, what's this humanity stuff? Don't I count? By the way, I can help you out of this dilemma if you'll let me. I'll make Bev come - she probably won't fall in love with me!

Jen's a little taken aback, but she concedes the point.

I count you as human, Michela, but I'll take you up on it.

Bev doesn't know what to think as Jen walks over to the chair still resting in the corner where she sat and took notes during the calibration, then seats herself comfortably. Yes, Bev realizes, she's afraid of falling in love with Jen, but part of that fear is fear of abandonment - that's what it feels like now too. Bev desperately wants to come for Jen, as much as she fears the consequences. Jen takes a risk, a small one, to nurture a thought germinating in Bev's mind.

How would my friends feel if I abandoned them, through my carelessness?

As Michela-created waves of pleasure start to roll through Bev's body - she hardly notices that Jen's not touching her pad at all - Jen takes a bigger risk. The eerie sound flickering through Bev's mind seems so much like Khalidah's voice, she's thinking. Khalidah, who's been copied on the entire exchange, senses her own voice too, loud and clear.

We won't abandon you. Have a great orgasm - then we'll finish off your punishment!

Khalidah's only slightly irked by the impersonation.

Bev squirms helplessly on her pole, undulating gracefully at first, then faster, twisting left, right, back bending and curving, heaving on her saddle, as Michela works her magic. Her breasts can't bob much given the cups fastened securely to her harness, but they can and do wave deliciously as she twists from side to side - the audience rustles appreciation. Without Jen blocking the view Bev's magnificently exposed despite her multiplicity of cuffs - between them her sweating skin ripples, glowing with the amber radiance of her pleasure-bound exertion.

Whoa, I've never experienced anything like this...

Bev wonders if her arousal is really totally out of her control - she experiments a little, first with erotic fantasies, then with thoughts that normally turn her off. Nothing changes. She's just as close to the edge, not too close, not too far, no matter what she thinks or does.

It's like whatever it is, it knows exactly what's happening inside me, which of course Michela does.

Bev's marched inexorably to orgasm. She can neither retreat, nor push herself faster. She can do nothing to escape Michela's iron grip, even if she doesn't actually know about Michela yet. She writhes with ever-increasing vigor to the precisely-metered stimuli, abandoning her experiments, just enjoying the ride. Brief thoughts about learning to control her impulses when it's dangerous, learning to let go completely when it isn't, flit through her mind, then disappear, subsumed into the vortex of her surging ecstasy.

It's like taking bondage to another level...just relax...let the music play...I'm going to come, exactly when I'm supposed to. No suppressor this time, thank God.

Thank the system, really. Bev explodes, thrashing in her cuffs, hammering her pelvis on the saddle, screaming out her dammed-up libidinous energy at the top of her lungs. The collar doesn't punish her for this; it's turned off - it's supposed to be; Jen checked earlier to make sure but she needn't have - Michela would not overlook something like that.

Jen uncrosses her leather-swaged legs and rises from her seat - just an ordinary office chair but so like a throne, I can't help thinking. Who's next, I wonder? I hope it's not me. I'm well aware by now that the longer you can maintain your arousal, the less you suffer.

She walks past exhausted, spent Bev, giving her a little smile, a kind one, I think, continuing to the end, to Norm, who came perilously close to hitting the suppressor when the brilliant radiance of Bev's orgasm flashed past. Better get him done with, she thinks, and it will take all her skill, and a little help from Michela, to make him last four minutes.

He does, though, squirming, twisting, thrashing in his bonds, on the edge the whole time, but never over. He's happy - something seems to be preventing him from going over and it's a new and exhilarating experience. Perhaps she'll explain it to him later; for now he can just wallow in delicious euphoria. Maybe he'll get a chance to play with her again at the Forge, he hopes.

That can be arranged, he seems to hear.

Norm explodes, bucking furiously on his saddle, intense delight reverberating through his institutionally-bound body. His copious supply of seminal juice, so rudely blocked before, rushes through his sensitized urethra and jets into his sleeve, rocketing him to heavenly delirium just before it's sucked unceremoniously into the saddle's reservoir. He pumps again and again, convulsing in his expertly drawn-out climax, ejecting every last drop as Jen milks him for all he's worth - quite a bit in fact, extra revenue since unlike many criminal's, his is almost certainly saleable.