The Bureau of Pleasure Control

(Contains graphic depictions of F/F sexual and BDSM activity, including female chastity, edging, paddling, plugs, and electric play)

The local pleasure control office was as modern, sterile, and secure as the chastity device Kristen had been fitted with on her nineteenth birthday.

That had been six weeks ago now, long enough for her to get intimately acquainted with the infuriatingly well-engineered piece of steel.

The front panel, which blocked access to her clit, curved outward in the middle just enough to make it impossible for her to grind against the inside. The panel of mesh under her vagina allowed her to spray enough water into the device to clean herself, with the help of a moveable shower head, but it disrupted the flow of the water jets, so that they wouldn't reach her skin with any consistent, enjoyable pressure. The chains that held the whole thing in place around her lower back and the insides of her hip joints were exactly as tight as they could be, without cutting off her circulation. Too tight, in other words, for her to slide a finger or anything useful inside.

The Bureau had thought of everything.

The office itself was less familiar to her. Without any medical or mechanical complications that would require the Bureau's attention, she hadn't been able to come up with an excuse to return since her fitting.

This was the first chance she'd had to sneak away from home and come in by herself.

Already, she'd been guided through five separate keycard-protected doors and an elevator just to reach what she hoped was the right waiting room.

Every seat was full, but the other occupants avoided eye contact and conversation, which suited Kristen fine. They could all collectively pretend that they hadn't seen each other here.

Finally, a pleasure control officer read Kristen's name off her tablet, and escorted her down yet another hallway.

The officer was a woman only five or six years older than Kristen herself, and like her colleagues, she was dressed in a fine knit fabric in a uniform shade of gray. In her case, it took the form of a knee-length dress, with her ID card clipped over her heart as its only adornment.

Officer Deacon, it said.

Modern fashion was generally loose or rigid around the hips to conceal the bureau-issued devices, but the clingy knit fabric showed the outline of Officer Deacon's openly. It made her all the more intimidating, the constant reminder that everything she did, she did in the same confinement as Kristen. She walked and sat as if she hardly noticed it, exuding an effortless discipline that made any complaint of Kristen's feel foolish before she tried to make it.

Officer Deacon tapped her ID card to the wall of the bare-looking hallway, opening a hidden sliding door to another room that was, thankfully, private.

In the exact center of its blank white walls was a steel table with two chairs positioned across from each other.

Officer Deacon took one and motioned Kristen to the other.

"So, I see this is your first follow-up appointment," Officer Deacon said, checking her tablet again. "How has your adjustment been going?"

Kristen looked down at her hands as she prepared her answer, but she had already spent too long looking at the officer to avoid picturing her, no matter where she looked.

It might have been her confinement playing tricks on her, but Kristen was fairly sure Officer Deacon was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She had the combination of sharp jaw and full, soft-looking mouth that Kristen had always liked, left perfectly obvious under a close, neat pixie cut. Her angular glasses slightly magnified her already intense gaze, and her breasts moved freely under her dress, small enough not to require support but still quite pronounced.

"About as well as could be expected, I think," said Kristen.

"No withdrawal symptoms?" Officer Deacon asked.

Kristen bit her lip and didn't point out that the officer was making assumptions about her behavior before the device, assumptions that directly contradicted the Bureau's public stance.

Officially, the bureau waited until a citizen turned nineteen before regulating their sexual stimulation out of a good-faith belief that people were nonsexual anyway up until that point. Imposing regulation earlier would only force young people to think about things that were none of their business yet, they said.

Kristen suspected that it was really to make sure you had a chance to find out what you were missing, first.

Before her birthday, she had been in the habit of rubbing out a quick natural sleeping pill before bed. It had taken her three nights to get tired enough to fall asleep without.

"It's... it's been difficult," Kristen admitted, shifting in her chair. Shifting in the device.

"And now you're here," said Officer Deacon. "Why, exactly?"

"Because..." Kristen skirted the main point. "Because you're called the Bureau of Pleasure Control. Not the Bureau of Pleasure Eradication. So, I wanted to ask for some more information on how exactly all this is supposed to work. Nobody really explained much at the locking ceremony. What am I supposed to do? Are there rules? Is there a schedule for how often I'm allowed out?"

"Out?" Officer Deacon repeated, with a little laugh that Kristen hoped very much was only meant to scare her. "You're getting awfully ahead of yourself."

Kristen wasn't sure why else the officer thought she'd come here, but she didn't dare say so. She let herself blush, shrug, and grin in a compliant, self-deprecating way. "Like I said, I'm new."

"Nobody mentioned the point system?" Officer Deacon asked her.

"Sort of," Kristen acknowledged, putting her hand to the device's built-in score counter on her hip. "It measures my restraint against my peers?" She repeated the spiel she'd been given.

"Yes," said Officer Deacon, in a tone that said she was only half right. "And this is where you can turn in your points for rewards."

"Turn in..." Kristen repeated, holding her hand protectively over the counter.

Every interview and application process she'd been through while trying to figure out the next stage of her life had involved a verification of her score. She wasn't sure how many points she could spare.

But then, if she didn't get out of this thing soon, if only for a couple minutes, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on any more applications anyway.

"Okay, so, how much does an orgasm cost?" Kristen asked, hoping her bluntness wouldn't count against her if she softened it with another embarrassed smile.

Officer Deacon smiled back at her, not at all embarrassed herself.

"That depends on you," she answered. "Stimulation costs one point per stroke, per location. Vibration is extra. It's your responsibility to budget accordingly. I recommend making sure you have a good buffer saved up before you begin. There's no refund if you're unable to achieve the results you're looking for."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Kristen blurted out.

She'd been cooped up long enough that if she could just touch herself, or be touched, she was pretty sure it would be over almost as soon as it started.

Officer Deacon's smile widened. "Then by all means, what can we do for you today?"

"I'd like..." Kristen pulled down the waistband of her jeans to check her total, even though she knew it by heart. Two hundred and twelve. "I'd like ten strokes, please."

"Only ten?" Officer Deacon asked, taking a note on her tablet. "Because--"

"Ten," Kristen repeated firmly, enjoying the confidence that came with finally understanding the rules.

"Where and how would you like them?"

"Across my clit," said Kristen. "Moderate pressure."

"No penetration?" Officer Deacon verified. "No nipple stimulation or other personal erogenous zones?"

"I am on a budget," Kristen joked. "Let's go straight for efficiency."

"As you wish."

The officer entered a few more commands into the tablet, removed her ID card clip from her dress, and tapped it to the sensor at the front of Kristen's device.

There was a click, and the hair on Kristen's arms stood up as she anticipated the glorious feeling of the metal chastity device opening and falling around her ankles.

Instead, a tiny hole opened in it, just above the compartment that guarded her clit. It was too small to squeeze even her smallest finger into.

With a few more taps of the officer's tablet, a panel opened in the blank-looking wall behind her. Kristen had only a few seconds to absorb the array of differently-shaped toy attachments inside before the officer pulled out a sterile-looking paper envelope and closed the panel again.

She tore open the end of the envelope and pulled out a plastic wand. It was rigid enough to hold its shape, with a softer layer around the outside, and a hard base with a complex series of ridges.

Without stopping to explain, the officer inserted the wand through the hole until its base clicked into place in the device.

The tip of it brushed past the hood of Kristen's clit and came to rest right alongside it.

At the first hint of contact in weeks, Kristen felt a tingling rush of blood to the already tender area.

"Enjoy," Officer Deacon told her, with an encouraging gesture.

She showed no sign of leaving the room, or of allowing Kristen to do so.

A little self-consciously, Kristen shifted her hips inside the device again. This time, instead of grinding helplessly against the empty dome, she was able to slide her clit along the slick, narrow surface of the wand.

"Oh my god," Kristen gasped, gripping the edge of the desk.

"Is it calibrated all right for you?" Officer Deacon asked sweetly.

Kristen gave a wordless, noncommittal moan, ecstatic but unable to make any clear assessments beyond the fact that she was being touched.

The wand bowed slightly away from her as she rubbed against it, marking each stroke she took with a soft, mechanical tick.

It was delicious, but unfamiliar, not lending itself to the tried-and-true strategy of her fingers. Between that, and the strangeness of being watched in the act, even by someone as alluring as the officer, Kristen hadn't gotten very far by the time she'd already counted seven ticking strokes.

She lowered her gaze to the clinging top of the officer's dress, embracing the strangeness of her presence, hoping to boost herself over the finish line. The material was thin enough that Kristen could make out the hexagonal outlines of the officer's pleasure-proof, tamper-evident pasties, just like the ones Kristen was wearing herself.

Eight.

Muscles tensed and spasmed deep in Kristen's pelvis.

Nine.

She wanted to request just a little more firmness, but if she stopped long enough to say the words now, she definitely wouldn't make it.

Ten.

She was so close. Just one more would have done it, but with the tenth tick, the wand gave way and folded itself out of reach, leaving her pulsing clit straining at the empty air again.

"Ten more," Kristen gasped. "Please."

That wouldn't be so bad, she told herself. Her score wouldn't look quite so impressive once it dipped below two hundred, but it wouldn't be terrible.

"Of course," said Officer Deacon. "We'll just have to go over a little housekeeping for this transaction before processing the next one."

Kristen's eyes widened involuntarily, and the officer's smile tightened, acknowledging her disappointed pleading without acquiescing to it.

"So, that'll be ten points for the strokes, plus two for the processing fee, and a fine of fifty points each for interrupting a Bureau officer and failing to answer a direct question from a Bureau officer. That brings you to... an even one hundred points remaining."

With a few more commands on her tablet and a tap of her keycard against Kristen's device, she set the counter back accordingly.

Kristen swallowed, her stomach churning with panic at the heavy blow to her score, but knowing better than to argue.

The fines had been due to her own carelessness, after all. She would learn better for next time. She was going to be an expert point budgeter yet, a shoo-in for every opportunity, who could afford vibration on demand. Someday.

Officer Deacon read her face effortlessly.

"I assume you have at least been taught the purpose of the point system, and indeed the Bureau itself?" she asked.

"Yes, officer," said Kristen.

"What is it?"

"To ensure restraint, respect, and discipline among the population," Kristen responded instantly.

"And you assumed those values would not be rigorously enforced within our own offices?" Officer Deacon asked.

"I..." Kristen struggled to construct a less automatic response, over the urgent aching of her vulva. "If I did, that was my error, officer."

Officer Deacon studied her for an agonizingly long moment.

"I'm only fining you twenty-five for that one," she said, finally. "That was just about half of an answer."

Another tablet tap and card tap took Kristen's hard-earned score down to seventy-five.

"Thank you for your mercy," Kristen forced herself to say. It was the safest thing to say to a pleasure control officer, especially when you couldn't think of anything else.

"Now," said Officer Deacon, perfectly friendly and accommodating again. "Did you still want to add another ten strokes?"

Kristen scrambled to calculate another prompt answer.

She really couldn't afford to let her score drop any lower, but the thought of trying to walk out of the building now, still pent-up and distracted, with no relief to show for all she'd spent, was almost unbearable.

Officer Deacon's gaze was hardening again with each second of silence. She had to make a decision.

"Actually, could we make it twenty? No, thirty," Kristen decided.

Better to make sure this batch counted than to end up needing yet another.

"Of course," said Officer Deacon.

She entered something on her tablet, and the wand inside Kristen's device raised itself back into its usable position.

With difficulty, Kristen waited for the officer's nod before rubbing herself against it again.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Kristen rocked her hips, sliding her clit back and forth along the wand, side to side over the top of it, around in circles, squeezing every ounce of pleasure she could out of each movement.

The wand did not fail to count a single one.

Nine, Kristen couldn't help counting too. Ten, eleven.

"Were you looking at my breasts, earlier?" Officer Deacon asked, matter-of-factly.

"Wha..." Kristen panted. "I.... Yes, I did," she admitted.

"This isn't slowing you down, is it?" the officer asked. "Talking about my breasts?"

"No," said Kristen.

Officer Deacon winced very slightly, seemingly on Kristen's behalf. "I'm afraid that's going to be another fifty point fine for lying," she said.

Kristen managed not to whimper, barely.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's not your breasts, or you..."

Fifteen

"It's the conversation..."

Sixteen

"That I'm not so used to."

Seventeen.

"You should stop now if you're going to afford that fine," said Officer Deacon. "Tell you what, if you stop by the next stroke, I'll pretend that's all you asked for, and we can call your score even at zero. You won't have to go into debt."

Kristen's hips rocked again, seeming to have a mind of their own.

Eighteen.

"You don't even know the procedure for debt, do you?" the officer asked.

Kristen didn't. But the wand hadn't collapsed yet, and it was just so hard to resist.

Nineteen.

The officer's eyebrows lifted slightly.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.

If she could just finish by thirty, she could face the consequences with a clear head.

"When you were looking at me, what were you thinking?" Officer Deacon asked.

"I was thinking how lucky I was to have someone just my type to look at for this," Kristen answered.

She wasn't sure it was the right thing to say, but it was an answer, and it was the truth.

"And now?" Officer Deacon asked.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

"What about now?" Kristen moaned, her focus splintering again.

Officer Deacon smiled innocently as the wand gave way, leaving Kristen still on the edge.

This time there was definitely whimpering.

"Do you still think I'm your type?" Officer Deacon asked.

Kristen rested her head against the desk, hollow and overwrought and wondering if she might cry. If so, she meant to maintain just enough dignity to not let the officer see.

"I think you're terrifying," she said.

"That brings your debt to sixty-two points," said the officer. "Because that wasn't an answer."

#

"Your situation is not wholly uncommon," Officer Deacon told Kristen, with her tone balanced precisely between stern and assuring. "As a public service, we do of course provide ways for guests to earn points. Otherwise we would either have to detain you indefinitely, or let you operate in the world with a negative total, which would undermine the whole system. We will get you back in the positive. However, you shouldn't expect the same exchange rate you would receive for everyday, proactive displays of discipline, like completing homework or choosing a smaller meal. What you're doing now is more like visiting a pawn shop outside a casino. You will be paying for the convenience, and for the fact that there's not much else you can do about it. Understood?"

"Yes, of course," Kristen agreed.

"Good."

Officer Deacon placed the tablet on the steel table as she scrolled through a document on it. Upside-down, Kristen could just see that it was a list of acts and point values.

"I'm going to have you perform in a reminder video," said the officer.

Kristen's stomach cramped with apprehension. "You mean like the ones mixed into all the commercial breaks?"

"Exactly. Is there a problem?"

Kristen hurried to answer with both honesty and respect.

"I'll do whatever you say. But given the choice, I'd prefer to pay my debt privately."

"Are you ashamed to be seen serving the Bureau's cause?" asked Officer Deacon.

"No, it's just, I still live with my parents. I don't want them to have to see me like that."

"I can limit the video's use to regions other than this one. Would that make it easier for you to throw yourself into the work?"

"Yes, please." Kristen answered. It wouldn't eliminate the possibility that the video would come back to haunt her, but it was more mercy than she'd expected, and she didn't want to press her luck. "Thank you, officer."

Officer Deacon was busy with some quick math.

"So," she said after a moment, "that'll be forty points for the public service of performing in the video itself, minus ten for limiting the region, so we'll just have to pick thirty-two points worth of punishment for you to submit to on camera as an example to others."

She turned the tablet around on the table so that Kristen could read from the list under that heading, "Debt Recovery Punishments."

Kristen skimmed them nervously, skipping past the ones she didn't understand, and the ones that would definitely mean staying here longer than she could get away with unnoticed. Things like spending hours in stocks, iron maidens, sensory deprivation tanks, or cleaning various rooms of the office building.

"If I choose one of the ones that last for days," Kristen pointed to a section, "the ones involving smaller devices I could walk around with, would I have to stay in custody until I've earned out the debt?"

"No," answered Officer Deacon. "You'd be free to go about your life and stop here once a day for maintenance and monitoring. However, you're required to submit to at least ten points worth of punishment on camera for the video, not counting the installation of any multi-day devices. Since the public won't be able to watch you serve your full sentence with those."