The Bureau of Pleasure Control Ch. 09

Anger flared in Artemis's chest, hotter than the water outside her.

"The Bureau couldn't own me," she said, with a transparent icy sheen. "I didn't let them. What makes you think you--"

"Because they don't know you, and I do," Calvin answered impatiently, tightly grabbing her hand. "You don't get off on officers watching and telling you what to do? Fine. I'll give you the privacy you love so much. Hate being graded on self-restraint? I'll pay you for work you're actually good at. You want more men? Women? Liquor? A beach to lie on? We'll work it out."

He pushed her hand down between them, brushing her knuckles against the unyielding outside of her own device. His cock found her palm, and he wrapped her fingers around it.

"I'm going to own you the old-fashioned way," he whispered. "By being the best option you have. Just good enough that you'll never be able to hurt me without shooting yourself in the foot. And no matter how much you wish you were stupid enough to do it anyway, you're not."

He dragged her hand up and down his length like a toy.

Artemis conjured up a few fanciful hypotheses of what might happen if she suddenly decided to squeeze him as hard as she could.

She did not test them. Not today.

"You're going to be happy," Calvin promised. "Mostly. Assuming this pans out. But one thing's never going to change between us. When I tell you to do something, you're going to do it."

He removed his hand from hers.

"Don't stop," he said.

#

Kristen smiled sweetly as she entered the VIP visitor room, tablet tucked securely in the crook of her arm.

"Mrs. Daimler, so sorry to keep you waiting."

It felt strange to apologize to a subject, especially for something as trivial as the start time. In almost every session Kristen had been a part of, the subjects were either submissive and grateful for their pleasure, or they were there to be disciplined. She had only been present for one VIP session, and that was as a skin girl, whose only purpose was to be used.

Conducting a VIP session as an officer, even a trainee officer, was a completely different task. And somehow, she was supposed to figure out how to do it alone.

She wasn't even sure if she was supposed to be exuding authority or deference.

"It would have been nice to be informed of how far behind you were," Rose said imperiously, tossing her silver-tinged blonde curls over her shoulder. "I'm going to miss my meditation club. And where's Leila? I always see Leila."

"Leila's unavailable at the moment," said Kristen. "But I've been training under her. I'd be honored to take care of you today."

Rose raked an appraising gaze over Kristen, starting from the floor and working her way up to her face.

Kristen stood still and took the opportunity to take in the sight of Rose in return.

She was at least twice Kristen's age, probably older, given the slower, more controlled way people of Rose's status tended to show their years. Kristen had scrolled past her actual birth year in the file. She had a powerful jaw, and the lines of her mouth and eyes said that she had spent her life holding tightly to each of her smiles before portioning them out.

Her dark green skirt suit was ironed with the same precision as her hair, with every crease intentional and exactly where it was meant to be.

After a long moment, Rose nodded to the armchair across from her own.

Kristen sat down, doing her usual best to resist being awed by the luxury of a VIP space, compared with the starkness of the standard visitor rooms.

"I don't undress for strangers," Rose warned. "It took my family physician three years of brunches to talk me into an exam."

"I completely understand," said Kristen. "I was hoping we'd have a chance to get to know each other."

The longer Rose asked to stay dressed and locked, the less evasive Kristen would have to be.

"So, what do you do for fun?" Kristen asked. "Other than this?"

"No small talk," Rose stopped her.

"Oh," said Kristen. "I thought you wanted--"

"It's not necessary," said Rose. "I'm an excellent judge of character."

"I'm sure you are," said Kristen. "Especially if you usually take three years to pass your judgment."

"It doesn't have to take that long for you."

"That's a relief."

"You'll just have to do something I couldn't ask of my doctor."

"What's that?" asked Kristen.

Rose doled out an especially tight smile. "You'll have to strip down and let me play with you. I find I can see more of what a person is like from on top, than from under their care."

Kristen compulsively lifted her skirt to check the point counter on the side of her device.

"You can afford it," Rose succinctly appraised her total, before Kristen could roll her skirt back into place. "Consider it an investment in my confidence. You might become my automatic backup for the next time Leila is indisposed."

The sound of that name crushed Kristen's reservations. She wasn't certain that what she was doing would help Officer-- Leila Deacon, but if the Daimlers didn't know yet that she had helped break into their systems, or that the breach had caused consequences that were still lingering now, Kristen wasn't going to be the reason they found out.

"Okay," she said. "Would you like me to bring in someone to--"

"At your rank, I can do it here," said Rose.

She pulled a tablet from her purse, and with a glance at Kristen's ID tag and a few taps of the screen, the chains of Kristen's device released around her.

Relief that an unlocking was still possible for her warred against Kristen's self-restraint. She had to listen to her own advice to her last subject and think of the penalties, in order to keep her fingers from flying to her suddenly available clit.

"Lie on the bed. After you take your shoes off, obviously," said Rose, standing and pulling back the covers on the VIP room's generously-sized canopy bed. She waited with faint, decorous impatience for Kristen to do as she was told.

Unsteadily, Kristen stood up, set aside her opened device and shoes, and climbed onto the mattress. She lay down by slow measures, simultaneously savoring and resisting the smoothness of the high thread count sheets against her skin. Even with her short uniform still on, it felt too good, too much, to have pressed against such large areas of her body at once.

Rose strode over to the room's shelves of unguarded implements as easily as if she owned them personally, and picked out two: a small, unassuming-looking wooden paddle, and one that looked like a bouquet of black feathers.

Duster 1, Kristen matched the correct name to the second implement, watching Rose twirl it in her hands. Called a duster because it was originally designed for removing dust from hard surfaces. It was never as good for that purpose as it is for safely stoking arousal.

Somehow, regurgitating facts from class to herself made her position feel more manageable.

"How long has it been since you last had a session for yourself?" Rose asked, brushing the duster slowly up from Kristen's left ankle to her knee.

Each feather caressed her like a loving fingertip and itched like the footsteps of an insect at the same time.

"About a week," Kristen answered.

With Zach gone, the truth and the answer on record were the same. Kristen had rushed herself through an uninspired orgasm, under the supervision of an officer she didn't know, the day after Officer Deacon's interrogation. It would have looked suspicious not to spend some points on herself, now that she was finally eligible to do so again.

Since then, she had tried to ignore her points, her device, and the typical restless stirrings of feeling beneath it.

"You're already so reactive," said Rose, rolling the skirt of Kristen's uniform up to her waist as efficiently as if she were moving a piece of furniture out of the way. The duster continued on its path up to the crease of Kristen's hip and then stopped, starting again from the other ankle. Kristen's clit throbbed for attention, summoning a synchronized flood of moisture inside her. She had no doubt Rose could smell the tang of it.

"It's all you," Kristen breathed.

"Is it really?" Rose asked dubiously.

"And your choice of tools," Kristen admitted. "And a Pavlovian response to the feeling of being unlocked at all. And that week. A week isn't nothing. But a lot of it is you."

"That's nice, dear," said Rose.

The second time Rose reached Kristen's hips, she gave the duster a little flutter right over her pussy.

"Very reactive," she said, almost scolding. "You're going to give me hardly any room to play at all before you go and finish, aren't you?"

"I'll do my best," Kristen answered through shallow breaths, aware of how weak a promise this was. "If you stick to the feathers, I doubt they'll be enough to set me off, no matter how worked up I get."

"But what if I want to do this?" Rose asked placing the tip of one index finger right on top of Kristen's clit.

Kristen gasped at the sudden, irresistible pressure. There was no hope of her answering the question intelligently, none at all.

Rose dragged that pressure firmly around in a tight circle. Kristen could not restrain herself from moaning out loud.

A second circle began, and Kristen knew full well that she would reach the point of no return by the time Rose's finger made it back to its starting position.

Rose must have known too. She stopped at a semi-circle and withdrew her hand.

"Don't worry," she said, in a tone as firm yet pleasant as her touch. "I know just what you need."

She set aside the duster and held the narrow paddle over Kristen's wet, ready sex.

Kristen scrabbled her fingers against the soft sheets below her until she'd gathered enough material to clutch in her hands, then turned her head to the side and closed her eyes in preparation.

Rose stroked her leg comfortingly with her bare hand. "Be brave," she said. "Here, feel how nice and light and smooth it is." She rested the polished wooden paddle on Kristen's thigh. "It won't do your soft little pussy any harm. Just teach it some manners. Don't you want it to settle down and be patient?"

There was only one correct answer.

Nervously, Kristen nodded.

She'd had her pussy paddled a few times in class, but only to learn how the implement felt, and never while she was this aroused.

"Keep your knees wide," Rose warned, picking the paddle back up. "We don't want you to hurt yourself."

Kristen obeyed, pressing the soles of her feet down into the mattress to keep her legs from pulling reflexively inward.

Rose stood beside her, stroking her hair affectionately. She didn't stop when she brought the paddle down in a hard, sharp, slap.

Kristen trapped a scream in the back of her throat, turning it into what could only be described as a whine.

"That's it, be still, just like that." Rose's fingers continued twirling softly in Kristen's hair, while her paddle hand mercilessly carried on its work.

After each slap, Rose dragged the paddle off of her rather than lifting it, giving Kristen perhaps a second of light, smooth friction before the next slap.

Her nerves were a jangle of fire and confusion. Her outer layers of skin stung pitifully, but the deeper organs refused to be beaten down so easily. They reached toward the stimulation, however rough, and tried to make do with it, turn it into what pleasure they could.

There were sensations, in the middle of hard slaps and bursts of pain, that felt almost like orgasmic contractions, but only one or two at a time, with no cohesive rhythm.

Without warning, Rose stopped and lifted the paddle away, replacing it with a light, evaluating brush of her fingers along Kristen's inner labia.

"Hmm," she considered. "Spread your lips for me."

Another whine bubbled up from the back of Kristen's throat as she rushed to obey before she could think too much about it.

Kristen lay her index fingers lengthwise along each of her outer lips, pressed down for traction, and pulled them gently apart, shivering with exposure and anticipation.

The paddle impacted wetly on her splayed pussy, bruising the knuckles of her index fingers, reaching every millimeter of skin that had managed to hide until this moment. Standing out desperately in front, protected by nothing but its thin hood, her clit took the worst of the impact. It spasmed and flared with pleasure-laced pain so sharp that her vision flashed white.

Kristen flinched instinctively away from the next hint of contact, but it was only Rose's hand, pressed flat over her whole pussy, as if to protect it from the paddle she had set down on the floor.

"Shh," Rose soothed Kristen's remaining, involuntary moans. "Shh. It's okay. There, isn't that better?"

She rubbed one finger purposefully from one side of Kristen's clit to the other.

The little bud of nerves responded with a shy, tentative throb.

Kristen was unsure of the proper terms for what the paddling had done to her, but she had to admit that the end result seemed to be as intended.

She was neither sated, as she would have been after a good orgasm, nor frustrated, as she would have been after a ruined one. She didn't feel bottled up and ready to go the way she did fresh out of the belt, but she was still horny, horny for a long, slow, gentle buildup, full of care for the tenderness of her folds.

This was exactly what Rose seemed to have in mind next.

She picked the duster back up and brushed the feather tips patiently back and forth over Kristen's pussy, reacclimating it slowly to pleasant touch.

After several long, relaxing minutes, she switched the duster for one of the soft, silicone wands, intended for stimulation inside a device. She rubbed it back and forth over Kristen's clit, lightly, until Kristen sensed the edge coming and arched her back to increase the pressure, just a little.

As soon as Kristen moved, Rose lifted the wand away and leaned in closer to look her in the eyes.

"Now, do you still want to prove yourself qualified to administer my pleasure?" Rose asked. "Or would you rather have a proper orgasm before I lock you back up?"

Kristen fought through the fog to do the math on the question in front of her.

Showing off her capacity for self-denial was usually the right answer in situations like this. But then, she was supposed to be avoiding Rose's pleasure today.

This couldn't possibly be the out she was looking for, could it?

"If I say I need to cum," Kristen asked, "what then?"

"Then I'll supervise while you see to your needs -- bare hands only, of course, no toys. And when you're finished, I'll make sure you're secure, and then go find one of your superiors and request a different substitute officer for myself. I'll tell them that you tried your best, but that I really do insist on entrusting myself only to the most selfless and disciplined professionals."

The thought of that conversation taking place stuck like a splinter in Kristen's throat. She had a feeling it would have felt the same, even if Commander Hawkins had not emphasized the importance of her finding a way to make this work.

"Don't take it too hard." Rose patted her thigh. "You're still very young and inexperienced. It's understandable."

"Lock me up," Kristen forced the words out.

"What was that, dear? I couldn't hear you."

"Lock me up," Kristen repeated firmly. "Please."

"Are you certain?" Rose asked with mischievous concern. "We've run through most of your point supply keeping you fully unlocked so long. If you don't use this chance, you'll be saving up again nearly from scratch."

"I've worked my way back from worse," said Kristen. "This session is for you."

"Well, if you insist...."

Rose collected Kristen's device for her and fitted it precisely over her pussy. There had been time for her body heat to dissipate from the device, and the coolness of the metal outline against Kristen's skin sent jabs of confused sensation shooting along her nerves. She could feel herself dripping an extra mournful wave of moisture as the chains tightened automatically to the perfect, inescapable length.

#

Zach didn't think he'd ever cum so much in a single week before.

Most rebel operatives went through a recovery period of wild hedonism when they returned from an undercover mission that required them to submit to Bureau control some or all of the time. It was a normal part of the process that usually passed without incident in a few days. With so many operatives recalled at once, however, most of the abandoned mall they were currently using for a base had been overtaken with a seemingly self-perpetuating orgy.

Participation ebbed and flowed as people paused for food and rest, but there were always at least a few people fucking over the edge of one of the old store counters, coaxing friends who passed by to rejoin the fun.

Zach was currently lying on his back on the thin carpet of what had once been a furniture store, with Amber, one of the former trainees they'd liberated in the Bureau jailbreak, bouncing frantically up and down on his cock in search of her third orgasm there.

He couldn't fault her for her appetite. Unlike him and the others who'd gone in as rebels in the first place, she'd spent her time at the Bureau completely deprived.

Zach had already been pretty drained for the day by the time she'd gotten started on him, so he was in no danger of finishing again any time soon. He only hoped she'd be satisfied before his friction burns got bad enough to make him tap out.

While Amber rode him, Zach was also offering what help he could to Piper and Jason.

Jason was another of the more excitable newbies, and Piper was busy pegging him with a makeshift strap-on she'd fashioned from a shampoo bottle and a dog leash. Jason was taking it in a crouching position while hovering over Zach, so that Zach could lick a fresh coating of honey off of his cock as it passed by his mouth with each of Piper's thrusts. Piper was so vigorous, however, that the two of them migrated unpredictably around the floor, and Zach's tongue couldn't always reach where it was needed.

His hands were sticky from reaching out to keep the pleasure going at a distance.

Throughout his stay at the Bureau, Zach had daydreamed more times than he could count about spending a day just like this.

(Well, almost like this. If this were one of his dreams, Kristen would have been involved in some way or another.)

During that time, it had been hard to believe he would ever feel again what it was like to have had enough.

Today, though, when Carmen knocked on the storefront window to signal that it was time to find a break in the fun, Zach was glad.

In fact, the exact words that went through his head were, "Finally, some excitement."

Ten minutes later, Zach, Piper, Amber, and Jason were gathered in the mall's former food court, along with the rest of the local rebel cell. They weren't the only ones still sticky and wrapped in robes, towels, and whatever else had been handy.

Carmen stepped forward and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for quiet.

For the first time since Zach had come home, Carmen looked the way he was used to seeing her. Instead of exhaustion and frustration from their ruined infiltration plan, her face sparkled once more with determination. She had found a clean outfit for the occasion, a shiny, skintight blouse and pants, which showed off her generous hourglass curves, and the absence of chains around them.

The sight of her released an aching knot in Zach's chest. It was as if the whole cell had spent the last week being babysat by this woman's meek, cowed doppelganger. But now, she was finally back.