Oceana

At the accustomed moment, the wall clears, and instead of my friend, I find myself looking up at a tall, powerfully built, pale stranger. He's standing, fully clothed, and staring down at me with more than a little shock.

With a shriek, I scramble back to the bed and yell "Where the fuck is Anthony?!"

- If you are referring to your visitor of the last few days, his name is not Anthony. As to his whereabouts, you have completed your assignment. You now have a new assignment. -

"Fuck that and fuck him! Bring back my friend!"

- If you do not like your current assignment, Grace Adeyemi, I suggest you complete it as quickly as possible. -

I continue to curse, but Station doesn't respond again. For his part, the stranger has retreated from the wall and is sitting facing his wallscreen, with his back to me. Presumably he was expecting someone else, as well, and it would have been hard for him to misinterpret my distress. Despite his thoughtfulness, I don't care about him. I just want my Anthony back.

We spend the remainder of the wall time like that, and it opaques as usual. The nook opens to provide my shipsuit for the day, and I lower my head to my knees and cry.

----

I'm already concealed behind the bed when the wall clears again. The stranger is standing in front of it, but much further back than the day before. He's still fully clothed. His eyes are on the ground, and he glances up just long enough to verify I'm under cover.

Once he sees me peeking at him over the edge of the mattress, he walks to the wall and puts one hand against it, fingers splayed, much like Anthony and I did our first day. The stranger must have had a friend too, although Station apparently didn't inflict the level of intimacy Anthony and I reached.

After a few moments standing there, he turns his back and leans against the wall, sliding to the ground and sitting against it. We remain like until the wall hides him.

----

The next day, I'm behind the bed again, and he repeats his actions. I stare at his back for a couple of minutes. I'm lonely and trapped, and Anthony isn't coming back. The stranger has been as polite as anyone could be in this situation, and Station can keep us here for years, repeating the same little play every day.

Surrendering to the inevitable, I stand and walk over to the wall. I crouch next to the stranger, who sees the movement out of his peripheral vision and quickly angles his head away. I lean against the wall next to his back and splay a hand against it where he'll be able to see. He shifts, still averting his eyes, and puts his hand against mine. We stay like that for the rest of our time.

----

I'm seated sideways, leaning against the wall with my legs drawn up to my chest when it clears up the next day. The stranger is standing back a few meters, as is his habit, and he starts to look away when I shake my head. I put my hand against the wall and look up at him. He stands there for a moment before coming to sit next to me and returns the gesture. We stare at each other, heads resting against the wall.

"I think I'm going to call you Robert."

----

I'm in the same spot the next day, but when the wall clears Robert is over by his nook, pounding on the wall panel. It seems like Station has decided it's time to deny him his dignity. He turns to face me, blushing, but to his credit he doesn't go behind the bed. Covering himself as best he's able with his hands, he walks over to join me, and we put our hands together as usual, but he's having trouble meeting my gaze.

I'm a little sad, because I know how this is going to end, and as I rest my head against the wall I try to savor the company of another friend before it's taken away.

After the time is over and I've gotten dressed, I say, "Station, what happens if I don't complete my assignment?"

- The punishment the first time I determine you will not willingly complete a task is solitude for one week, at which time you will be given a new assignment. -

"Will I ever see these people again?"

- I do not know, Grace Adeyemi -

----

I'm standing next to the wall when it clears. Robert is already sitting, nude, with his legs drawn up, as we were the day before, and he looks up at me in surprise. I may not see him again after today, but I can give him a good memory.

Like I did for Anthony before him, I stand with my legs apart and my arms spread wide. Looking down at him, I can see his flush of arousal, and I know he's getting hard, though he's trying to hide it. I watch his eyes play over me, and this time I slowly rotate, giving him a clear view of my entire body. When I'm facing him again, I motion for him to stand up.

He's blushing again, but after a moment, he slowly complies. His erection is large and angry looking, and I wish there wasn't a wall between us. I stare at his rigid penis for a few moments before looking up into his face. He's breathing heavily and he's not being shy about looking at my body now. My nipples are hard and I can feel my wetness, but I don't touch myself. Instead, looking into his eyes, I lay my hand flat against the wall, at the level and directly in front of his angry erection. He looks down at my hand, and then back up at me. Holding his gaze, I nod.

He doesn't do anything for a moment, and then his hand starts to tentatively move toward his penis. It stops, but at another nod from me, he closes it in a fist around his swollen rod. As he slowly pumps it, I press my body against the wall for him, moving my hips in a grinding motion and staring at his hand as he stimulates himself.

His eyes have glazed and his lips are parted. His chest his flexing with his breath. He splays the fingers of his free hand against the wall, and I match them, my other hand still over his penis. Our foreheads touch the wall as he begins to gasp, and finally, finally he comes, long ropes of semen covering the wall where my hand rests.

I'm watching him, in the aftermath. His eyes are closed, and his chest is still working like a bellows. He's lovely to me, and he hasn't recovered to look back at me before the wall opaques between us for the final time.

I'm pulling my shipsuit on when station speaks.

- Grace Adeyemi, may I ask you a question? -

"What."

- You were sexually aroused, but you did not stimulate yourself. I would not have prevented you. May I ask why? -

"Because I didn't want to miss my last moments with my friend."

----

The next day, sitting as demurely as possible given my nudity, I'm expecting the complete stranger on the other side of the wall. I'm even expecting the fact that he still has clothes. What I'm not expecting is for him have an enormous erection emerging from the crotch of his shipsuit and that he'd be stroking it in anticipation of my appearance.

He's probably a few centimeters shorter than me, caucasian but tanned, and, like all of us, obviously fit. His eyes, though, shine with a lust and cruelty my last two visitors did not share. He's obviously making the most of his time with Station.

Despite my first instinct, I don't flee behind the bed. I'm going to have to deal with this asshole eventually, and I suppose sooner is better than later. At least I won't regret it when he's gone.

Semi-reluctantly, I stand up, approach the wall and let him see my body. His eyes devour me in an instant, although the rhythmic fisting of his penis does not change pace. He makes a circular motion with his finger, and I slowly comply. I swear I can feel his eyes as though they were fingers as they move across my buttocks. He makes a stopping motion with his hand, and I pause there, my rear end facing him, looking at him over my shoulder.

Between the naked lust in his eyes and the command in his gestures, I'm getting aroused despite myself. My nipples are puckering and I can feel myself moistening. He make a curious flapping motion with his hand and I frown my confusion at him. He rolls his eyes and does it again, more slowly. Getting his meaning this time, I bend over. The better I follow his signals, the more quickly this will be over with. I put my hands on the floor and arch my back, giving him a view I'm not sure I've ever given anyone before.

Looking back at him, his fist is pumping more swiftly now and when his eyes meet mine, his contempt is unmistakable. He turns his head to the ceiling and his mouth begins to move. Presumably he's talking to station.

- Your assignment has requested that I convey a message. -

A male voice erupts from the ceiling. Either he speaks my language or Station is providing translation. "Tell the slut she has permission to finger that hungry cunt. I can see it dripping from here."

I can feel a blush blooming on my cheeks. No one has ever spoken to me like that before, not even lovers in the heat of the moment. Despite my determination to complete this as soon as possible, I don't do anything for a moment.

"Station, how much longer will the wall stay transparent today?"

- Until you complete your assignment. -

More or less what I expected. Trying to put the shame out of my mind, I slip my hand down to my admittedly soaking vagina. It's been days since my shared orgasm with Anthony, and since my abstention with Robert yesterday, my mound is desperate for attention. I try not to think of the man behind me, and concentrate on Robert instead, but my mind keeps slipping back to the fact that not one meter behind me there's a male stroking himself to my body, and I'm doing everything he tells me to do.

My hand begins to move faster against my clit, and my knees sink to the ground, followed by my head. The nature of the situation is setting me on fire, and I can't get the guy's eyes out of my head. It doesn't take long before my hips are bucking, and my orgasm hits like a freight train. I scream through it and collapse to my belly in the aftershocks.

I'm still gathering my wits when the same male voice blares out "Tell the whore she isn't finished."

Dragging myself to a sitting position I turn and stare through the still transparent wall. He's still there, and still stroking, although so fast I can barely see his hand. Apparently my little display hadn't finished him off. "Ask him what the fuck else he expects me to do."

I see him glance up at the ceiling as Station conveys my question and looks back down to grin at me. Not deigning to voice a reply, he motions me up onto my knees and towards him. I move forward until my knees bump into the wall and I'm sitting on my heels, arms resting at my side. He looks over my chest and then back at me, sticks his tongue out, and taps the wall right in front of his penis. I can feel another blush rising as I lean forward, push my tongue out and down my chin as far as it will go, and press it against the wall. I close my eyes and wait for him to finish, when the ceiling blares, "Tell the bitch to look at me".

I open my eyes and look up into his. He's leaning against the wall with one hand, his other fisting his penis as close to me as he can get it. After I manage to meet his eyes for a few seconds he finally shuts them and begins to erupt, coating the wall in front of my face. I just remain there, tongue pressed against the wall, waiting for him to finish. When he finally does, he turns away without a second glance at me and flops down in front of his screen before the wall opaques.

My final thought that night as I relive the events of the day is, "I think I'll call that one Damien."

----

As I throw my suit into the recycler the next morning I'm more than a little surprised when the nook immediately provides a fresh one. I slip it on and go to stand in front of the wall, curious to see what happens and half expecting it to simply remain opaque today. I can't think of a reason Station would take a step back in my prolonged shaming.

The wall does, in fact, fade away at the appointed time, and this time there's no one standing directly opposite me. Instead, scrabbling at the clothes nook and staring over her shoulder with a wild look in her eyes is a woman.

I sigh and close my eyes. "Really, Station?"

My captor remains silent.

I turn back to look at my new assignment, who by this point is trying to get into her bathroom, which I could have told her was sealed. By her behavior, this is the first time Station has denied her clothing in front of a visitor. She's slight, probably eight or ten centimeters shorter than I am, with small breasts topped by dark nipples, skin a couple of shades lighter, and the fuzz of her hair is midnight black.

She's finally discovered the limited refuge of the bed and is peeking at me over it. Taking a page from Robert's book, I look down and and place my splayed hand against the wall for a few moments, and then I turn around and seat myself with my back resting against the wall.

A few minutes pass like this and I see a flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye. "Station, is she sitting behind me?"

- Yes, Grace Adeyemi. -

That's enough for me, for today.

----

The next day, Station once more opens the clothing nook as soon as I put the old suit in the recycler. I look down at it for a few moments, thinking about my visitor. "Station, if I don't put my suit on, will the wall still clear?

- Yes, Grace Adeyemi. You are not required to wear the shipsuit at this time. -

Aware that I'm probably performing in precisely the way Station intends, I leave my suit in the nook and sit in the usual spot with my legs drawn against my chest. When the wall clears, the woman is there too, in a similar pose, preserving as much modesty as possible. She starts, perhaps to see me so close, or perhaps because I'm nude. Her eyes flick behind me to my clothing nook, and she can see the fresh shipsuit lying there, folded and untouched. Her large eyes return to me and I give her a half-grin and a shrug. She looks at me for a moment more and then reaches out and splays her small fingers against the wall. I reciprocate. She just stares at our hands for a few seconds, and then her face screws up and she begins to cry. She puts her other hand against the wall and presses her forehead against it, heedless of modesty. I push myself against her as close as I'm able and we stay like that until time runs out.

----

No shipsuit appears the next morning.

Not completely surprised by this, I sit in the usual spot and wait out the clock. When she appears, sitting across from me, she's dressed. She flashes a big smile when she sees me, but her hand flies to her mouth when she sees I'm nude. Looking behind me, she can see it's not by choice this time.

When her eyes return to me, I give her the same grin-and-shrug as yesterday. She seems flustered for a few moments, and then she sets her jaw and stands up. She unfastens her shipsuit and shimmies until it falls to her ankles. She kicks it aside, flashes a nervous grin and does a 'Tada!' spin before dropping into back to her butt and peeking at me over her drawn-up knees. I laugh and mime applause, for which I'm rewarded with a giant smile and a stuck out tongue. We spend the rest of our time trying to make each other laugh with big gestures and funny faces, the last vestiges of her shame at displaying herself to me washed away.

That night I decide her name is Raina.

----

I ignore the shipsuit that appears the next morning, no longer trying to guess at Station's game. I just flop down in the usual spot, taking no unusual pains for modesty. Raina is nude too, when the time comes, and it takes us both only a couple of seconds to realize we each had the option of going clothed this morning. She points at my nook and laughs, and I shrug theatrically. It's a little awkward for a moment, then, as we both debate whether or not we should go get dressed, and we just sort of sit there for a moment staring at each other. Somehow the moment stretches out and it's not quite so funny. We're looking at each other, and then we're looking at each other, each somehow invited by the fact that the other didn't leave.

She's slight, as I've mentioned, but she's well formed, and muscular from the exercise Station puts us through. Her breasts are small and high and proud, tipped with surprisingly thick nipples on small areola. Her abdomen is ridged with muscle, and I can see a fine trail of hair beginning to grow back between her navel and her pubic hair. She's examining my body as well, except that her eyes keep flicking to my face, as if afraid she'll offend me.

Replaying a now-familiar moment, I get to my feet and display myself to her. Her jaw drops a little and her large eyes get very wide as she stares up at me. I can see her dark nipples harden with the excitement of the moment. I perform a slow spin, inviting her to view all of me, and when I complete my revolution, her breathing has sped up noticeably. Her hands are in her lap, but every few seconds one will make an aborted movement, as though it wants to touch me, or herself.

When her eyes lift to mine again, I hold a hand up in front of my face, bring it to my throat, and start moving it along my collarbone. Her eyes are glued to it as my fingers trail down the side of my chest, moving to cup a breast. I squeeze the flesh, then rub a finger around the nipple to display its stiffness. One of her hands has moved to her own breasts, and is tweaking a large firmly as she pants. The other hand has disappeared into her lap. My hand moves to my other breast, giving it the same attention. Her eyes have slitted and she's leaning forward. Her hips have begun making very tiny motions.

My hand trails down my hard belly, slowly making its way towards my pubic fur. As my fingers make contact with the top of the dark V, she rears back, supporting her weight on one hand and displaying her thrusting crotch to me. Her fingers are clearly pumping in and out of a her vagina, and her face is in an attitude of what I can only describe as need. When my fingers reach my own gap I press as close to the wall as I can, and use them to spread myself for her to see.

This pushes she small woman over the edge, and she curls into what is clearly a massive orgasm, chest heaving, and abdomen flexing. When it finally subsides, she's on her side, limp and staring at nothing, still breathing as though she's run a race. I stand above her, idly stroking myself, more than a little flush with sexual power. Moments pass, and the wall doesn't opaque.

"Station?"

- She is not your assignment, Grace Adeyemi. You are hers. -

I take a moment to process that, staring down at the limp woman in front of me. She slowly recovers, and pulls herself up to a sitting position, looking up at me with a mixture of shame and worship. I look at her for a few more moments, thinking and slowly stroking my clit. I wonder how much faster I've broken down Raina's barriers than Station could have with a man. I'm already a tool in another captive's surrender.

Looking into the eyes of the woman I've just betrayed, I push my tongue out and tap it with a finger. I then tap the wall in front of my pelvis with the same finger. She looks between me and the spot I indicated for a moment, and then, slowly, moves her face to it, slides her tongue out, and presses it against the wall.

As I look down into her wide eyes and begin stroking myself more swiftly, I think to myself that, today at least, I understand Damien a little better.

----

The next morning a shipsuit is immediately available, and as I'm walking over to the wall after shrugging it on Station speaks up.

- You will have no visitor today, Grace Adeyemi. The lift will arrive shortly morning to convey you to new accommodations. -

I seat myself back in one of the dining table chairs. "Taking me to the dungeon tower, Station?"

- On the contrary, Grace Adeyemi. It is time for your next set of assignments. You have nothing more to accomplish in this environment. -