Puppet Ch. 01

"Welcome to Imad's Pleasure Parlor. How may I help you?" the young man standing at the counter, his fingers poised over the keyboard, said to the older man who had just entered the lobby.

"Um, I have an appointment." The older man fidgeted nervously. He moved his briefcase from one hand to the other and then leaned his elbow on the counter, trying to look casual.

"Your reservation number?" the younger man asked. The badge pinned to his shirt continuously scrolled the message "Welcome to Imad's Pleasure Palace. My name is Kit. How may I help you?"

"48723," Taylor said.

"Okay." Keys clicked quickly, then Enter was hit hard. "Yes, you have an appointment with Valerie today." The young man, Kit, glanced up, the light reflecting off of his dark black optical implants. Taylor looked into the black glass disks attached to Kit's skull, hiding his eyes, and wondered why if he had the implants he was working at a computer console. Probably another bad implant and now he was stuck with them.

"Yes, I do."

"Okay. I just need to ask you a few questions..."

"Um," Taylor broke in, rubbing the chip under the skin at the base of his thumb. "If you don't mind me asking..." The younger man looked up at him, his lips pressed to a tight line. "Is there something wrong with your optical implants?"

"No, sir. The surgery isn't done. I am working to save for the rest." His voice was very bland, almost robotic.

"Oh, sorry. I just...I work in that field and was just curious."

"Thank you, sir, for your...consideration." The young man turned his gaze away and Taylor felt better as those swirling dark lenses shifted away from him. Taylor figured that he must be going to a hatchet man, a low-priced, street doctor whose expertise with that type of work was poor. He would be lucky if he could even see once the hatchet man was done with him.

Taylor cleared his throat and pulled a card out of his pocket. Hesitantly, he held the card towards the younger man. "This is my card." Kit turned to look at it, but didn't take it from him. "Take it."

"No, thank you, sir. I do not wish to know who you are." He turned his head back to the monitor.

"I understand. In this...place...anonymity is the rule. But I've seen the work of the hatchet men and I don't want the same to happen to you."

"Thank you, sir, for your consideration. However, I must decline."

Taylor nodded his head. He laid the card on the counter, facedown. "I'll leave it here. Throw it away if you don't want it or hold on to it if you do. Just remember I made the offer."

"Thank you, sir." He didn't take the card or even acknowledge it. Taylor hoped that he'd at least throw it away. It wouldn't be good for someone else to find it sitting there. "Okay sir, was there a specific scenario you had in mind?"

Taylor stood up straight and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Yes, um, asleep."

"You want her asleep the whole time?"

Taylor hesitated, picturing a scene in his mind. "No. Asleep, but wakens during it. Very loving."

Clicking of keys. "Dress?"

"Naked." Taylor turned his head to look around the small waiting area. Why couldn't they get private rooms or cubes for this? If someone were to walk in now, another appointment, it would be just too embarrassing. He might have to turn and walk out.

"Violence?"

"No," Taylor said immediately. "None."

"How long?"

"One hour."

"Would you like her to orgasm?"

"Yes. Twice." Taylor knew that would be the most expensive part, but he wanted her to enjoy it. He hoped somewhere deep in her dream state she would feel those orgasms and enjoy it.

The clicking stopped. "Anything else?"

Taylor looked back into those black discs. "Can you make her say 'I love you'?"

"Of course."

Taylor sighed, wondering what this young man thought of him, but tried to remind himself that it didn't matter, it was just a job to him. He shrugged his shoulders and shivered, standing in the open room, so exposed. He didn't like this place, didn't like how dirty and dark it was. The other parlors were brightly lit and clean with small rooms for the questionnaire, smiling faces reassuring you that you're not a pervert, offering a cup of coffee. But none of them had Valerie.

"The total for today will be 8,400, sir," the younger man said and turned away from the computer console.

Taylor laid his hand on the counter, palm down, with the thumb spread wide. The programmer lifted the electronic reader from beside the computer and waved it over the chip in Taylor's hand. He turned back to the computer.

"Okay sir. The funds have been transferred. I will program this and call you when she is ready."

"Thank you," Taylor said and nodded his head to the younger man, taking a last look at his card sitting untouched on the counter, wanting to take it back, but instead turning away to sit in one of the old, battered chairs.

As Taylor sat back in the chair the video wall came to life, tuned to some 24-hour news network. He immediately glanced away to search the stacks of old paper magazines for something worth reading. All of the magazines were porn and he felt dirty just pushing them around on the table. He crossed his legs and slouched back in the chair, closing his eyes to shut out the noise of the television and the hectic clicking of the keyboard.

This is the only parlor he knew of that had the same person running the front desk and programming the puppets. It was also one of the cheapest parlors. All of the costs went to getting exotic and exceptional puppets. Extras like neural interfaces and coffee were scrapped to keep costs low.

Taylor relaxed back in the chair and pictured Valerie in his mind, wondering if she'd changed much since he was there last month, picturing her dark blue eyes, her long, blonde hair, her light, creamy skin, features that were all very rare, manifestations of recessive genes that were being pushed out of the gene pool, and so made her an exotic puppet. He sighed deeply, feeling his chest constrict as he thought of her, so beautiful and young, trapped in this place, a victim to the urges of any man who walked through the door with enough credits to buy her body, men who probably weren't as gentle or loving as him, men who didn't love her like he did. But then what man could possibly love her as he did?

"Valerie is ready now, sir," the programmer said, startling Taylor from his thoughts.

Taylor jumped to his feet, lifting his briefcase with him.

"She is in room 3F," the programmer said as he walked from behind the counter. He waved his hand across a sensor and a door opened. "Down this hallway. Turn right at the third intersection. Third room on the right."

"Thank you," Taylor mumbled as he stepped past the younger man and into the hallway, looking quickly into those black disks that looked back at him blankly. He turned away and started walking down the bright hallway, his shoes clacking loudly against the hard floor.

The programmer, Kit, let the door close with a thud, getting a last glimpse of Taylor's back. Kit walked behind the desk and picked up Taylor's business card. He turned it around and squinted to see the words printed on it. He rubbed his fingers across his implants and winced, feeling them biting into his skull, still not healing correctly. His vision was horrible, all he could see well was the computer monitor, everything else was dark and misty. He shoved the card into his pocket, thinking that he shouldn't need it. One more surgery, next week, and that would be it. The implants would work and he'd be plugged in. But just in case, it couldn't hurt to keep the card.

-

Taylor walked slowly down the hallway, his eyes shifting from side to side to glance at the closed doors on either side of the hallway. He passed one intersection and glanced down both ways. There were twelve rooms in that hallway. He'd been here before and knew that there were fourteen rooms on the main hallway and twelve rooms in each of the four intersecting hallways. That was sixty-two rooms, each wasn't occupied, some were theme rooms, but at least half of them were.

He dropped his head down, wanting to shut out this place, pretend he wasn't there, just walking to his room, nothing else there. He turned right into the third hallway and stopped. The door to his right was partially open like the actuator was stuck and it wouldn't quite slide all the way closed. The door was thick and if it had been closed would have blocked the sounds coming from the room. He could hear the hiss of pneumatic pumps, the whirring noise of a small engine, and the erotic moaning of a young woman.

Taylor glanced down the hallways, making sure no one was there, and then leaned towards the cracked door, pressing one eye to the open space. The first thing he noticed was the naked woman, her skin dark, glistening with sweat, her breasts synthetically large and round with large dark nipples, her hair, braided into tight strands, hung down past her hips. She was strapped to a machine, her body almost vertical, but tilted back slightly, her arms held out straight from her body and pinned down, her legs held out and spread wide. Her head was tilted back with her eyes closed, her mouth open, moaning with pleasure, as a large black phallus pumped rhythmically into her ass. A long arm extended down from the machine and turned back up with the metal phallus clad in black plastic that worked in and out of her.

She writhed against the metal straps holding her down, her body held suspended in the air, her chest rising and falling. Then, Taylor saw a man, naked, long brown hair draped over his shoulders, his skin a dark brown, step onto the platform in front of her, holding his large, erect cock in his hands. He stepped between the slim metal bars holding her legs and sunk his cock into her pussy. He leaned back to watch the machine sliding its phallus in and out of her ass as he started working his cock into her, his hands sliding down her strapped legs.

Taylor stepped away from the door and leaned against the wall, breathing hard, feeling ashamed that he'd been turned on by watching the odd double team, the woman penetrated by man and machine simultaneously, a hideous joining of flesh and metal. He knew that was the type of people that came there and tried to push it out of his mind, reminding himself he wasn't like that. He wasn't one of them.

He started walking down the hallway, seeing Valerie's room just ahead of him, and he pictured her strapped to that machine with that greasy haired man fucking her in unison with the machine, and he felt anger rising in his chest, hot and fast. He clenched his briefcase tightly in his hand, holding on to that image, burning it into his brain. This was why he was here. The atrocity, the pain, the humiliation, it all had to stop.

He stopped in front of her door and took a deep breath, trying to relax his body. He twisted his head, feeling his neck creak and then pop. It was time again. He dropped his head down and closed his eyes, trying to turn that anger into purpose, reminding himself of his goal; to see her, be with her, and ultimately free her.

He lifted his hand and pressed the chip against the sensor and felt the cool drift of air as the door slid open. He stepped into the dimly lit room, his eyes resting on the bed and the lump underneath the covers, blonde hair barely visible on the pillow. The door closed with a hiss behind him and he stared at her, waiting for her to move, but she laid still, the covers moving slowly up and down with her sleeping breath.

The room was lit dimly by the false window, emitting a pale blue light through thin curtains to resemble the dawn of a new morning. Taylor looked at her prone form under the blankets, looking so small and defenseless, and he felt like his heart would burst, filled with love and pity. He wanted to scoop her out of the blankets in his arms and hold her small, frail body against him, protect her, love her, forever, never let her go. He sighed deep, his chest aching from the emotion, always that same pain when he saw her, joy and anguish, a beautiful torture.

He dropped his briefcase on the floor and turned his head away from her, trying to regain his emotions. He looked around the room, studying the video wall, the light fixtures, the shelves of stuffed animals with glassy eyes staring back at him, the small radio, looking at each object for the cameras he knew were planted in the room. He could almost feel the lenses focusing on him, eyes in some other room watching him, his every motion being captured and stored to disc somewhere for sale in the underground porn market or held for blackmail. He knew they were there, but he couldn't see them. He'd have to act normal like any other customer coming to fuck the puppet or they would know, and he might be banished from seeing her again before he could rescue her.

Taylor moved to the side of the bed, the lush carpet absorbing his steps, and slipped his coat off his shoulders, his eyes watching her as she slept, tucked under the covers. He folded his jacket and laid it on the bedside table. He loosened his tie, lifted it over his head and laid it on top of his jacket, staring at the golden blonde hair draped across the pillow. He turned his back and sat softly down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. He removed the rest of his clothes quietly, taking his time, not wanting to disturb her. Then, he lifted the corner of the blankets and slid into bed with her, enjoying the feel of the cool, soft sheets.

He laid his head on the pillow and relaxed, holding himself away from her on the other side of the bed, watching her, wanting to move to her, hold her, but feeling the cameras watching him, waiting for him to do something, making sure he did only what he paid for, suspecting him. He moved towards her, sliding across the sheets until he felt her warmth, and then pressed his body against her back as she lay on her side facing away from him.

He shamefully felt his cock already starting to harden as he felt her naked body against him. He knew he shouldn't do what he was going to do, what he had to do, that he shouldn't take any pleasure in it, but he would. He would enjoy it, and the shame and disgust would only add to the pleasure. He closed his eyes, reminding himself that he was doing this to be with her, to see her, and the sex was the only way to see her, just an excuse, just an act that had to be performed, not the ultimate reason for being here. If he happened to enjoy it, so be it, even if it was unnatural.

He lowered his head to her pillow, feeling her hair against his cheek, and he inhaled, smelling her sweet perfume, like strawberries. He could hear her breathing softly and gently laid his hand on her hip, feeling her warm, soft skin under his hand, the sharp mound of her pelvis, and he eagerly pressed himself against her tighter, feeling his desire swell. He pushed his face through her hair until his lips met the back of her neck, his chest touching her back, and he kissed her tenderly.

"I love you, Val," he whispered quietly, his lips grazing her skin. "I'll always love you. Remember that."

He slid his arm under her pillow, tilting her head back to him, and he leaned forward to see the side of her face, her lips red and slightly parted, her nose small and delicate, her long blonde eyelashes, her cheeks blushed, a face that looked so young and innocent, the face of a child on a woman of twenty-five, the face of an angelic virgin on an experienced puppet. He leaned forward and kissed her warm cheek, his hand sliding off of her hip and over her flat stomach.

He kissed her neck, feeling her pulse warm and strong. He kissed up the side of her neck, behind her ear, brushing her hair to the side gently, wanting her to stay asleep, as he slid his tongue along her skin, and then felt her chip port, cold and hard along his tongue. He had felt it and looked at it many times before. It was an Oni Tapei Model 7000 Puppet Chip Port, only about five years old. He had installed several of them himself into willing women and felt guilty for each one, but told himself that if he didn't do it the women might go to a hatchet man who might put them into an eternal coma or worse.

He ran his tongue along the port, feeling the metal sides of the slim port, the skin and bone of her skull grafted to it, the small hole in the side for releasing the puppet chip, an organo-electronic wafer that could control and regulate the electric paths in the brain. Once activated the person would fall into a deep sleep, oblivious to what was happening to them, while the chip forced her body to move and act as programmed. He wanted to release that chip, pop it out of her head, and give her freedom back, but he couldn't. Not now. They would know. They would lose reception and be in here immediately to kill him, and she would be stuck here forever. What he needed was a diversion, a way to replace the chip quickly with a chip he had designed so that he could control her, interrupt their commands with his own. There had to be a way to do it.

He lost his concentration on his thoughts as he heard her moan quietly, a soft groan from deep in her sleep. His inspection of her port with his tongue was turning her on in her sleep. He felt his stomach tighten with anticipation and slid his hand down her bare thighs, over her neatly trimmed pubic hair. She tilted back against him, her top leg sliding off her bottom leg, and he moved his hand to her inner thigh. His hand slid up between her legs, feeling her wet and ready.

He didn't want to think or feel. Despite his reservations and shame, he just wanted her.

He clamped his mouth on her neck, sucking at the skin, and pushed his arm under her neck, wrapped it around her chest, feeling her small, firm breasts against his arm. He reached between her legs, found his hard cock, and moved it towards her pussy. He spread her apart as he directed the head of his cock into her.

"I love you, baby," he whispered against her neck as he pushed it inside her, sliding into her easily.

He heard her moan with him as he slid inside of her until his hips were pressed against her tightly. He slid his hand down her thigh, pulled her leg over his legs, and pushed into her further, savoring the feel of her wrapped around him, so wet. He started to move in and out of her leisurely, his hands roaming over her body, caressing her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, his mouth sucking at her throat and shoulder, loving every inch of her, bringing soft moans rumbling through her throat.

His shame melted away as he plunged into her, his hand moving down her body to rub her clit, his fingers feeling his slick cock moving in and out of her, and he knew this had to be right. It felt so good, so wonderful. As long as they were together, that's all that mattered, just being with her, loving her, making love to her. He hoped that deep down she would remember it, feel him with her, and could feel what he felt.

Her body stiffened against him as she held her breath and he could feel her cunt tighten around his cock, an orgasm pounding through her body. He lifted his head to look at her face, her eyes closed tightly, her lips parted, held in a statuesque stillness, and then she caught her breath and groaned loudly.

Her eyes opened as she woke from her sleep and he held himself inside of her, not moving, letting her waken and feel him behind her, inside of her.

"Oh God," she whispered and moaned again.

Blinking her eyes to shake the sleep away, she turned her head, twisting to the side to look up at him. Taylor looked down into those large, blue eyes, like large puddles of the deepest water, seeming to swallow her face with an inquisitive but shy pleading. He could look into those eyes forever, lost inside of her.