The Bureau of Pleasure Control Ch. 10

(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including edging, tease-and-denial, female chastity, female masturbation, cunnilingus (m/f), caning, genital clamps and electric play (f/f). As ever, this story takes place in a forced chastity dystopia where uncoerced consent is often impossible, but characters are always over 18 and generally gain at least some enjoyment from their activities.)

***

During what would soon come to be known as "The Click," Leila Deacon was dozing on the hard tile floor of her cell.

She had no way of knowing that, in a single instant, almost all of the Bureau-issued chastity devices in the country had suddenly unlocked themselves.

The only thought that ran through her mind when her chains suddenly released was, This, I don't need.

"I didn't do anything!" she shouted, hoping that there was someone monitoring her cell to hear her.

She raised her hands in the air, leaving the plate of steel over her pussy where it belonged, though there was nothing to hold it there.

"It wasn't me, I didn't break it! I didn't steal any pleasure!"

Minutes passed without an answer.

Eventually, Leila rested her head back on her arm and began to drift off again.

She was somewhere between sleep and waking, no longer certain whether the looseness around her hips was a dream, when the cell's outer door opened.

"I didn't--" she started again.

"Technically, you kinda did," answered a voice that did nothing to help convince her she was awake.

"Kristen?" Leila asked, heart suddenly pounding with nightmare ferocity.

That voice felt so good. And nothing that felt good could possibly be here for any reason other than to be used against her.

The overhead lights switched on, and Leila squinted against the glare.

Most of her cell was made of steel walls, but there was a sliding wall of bulletproof glass that locked into place between her and the side of the room with the door and the light switch.

The blurry figure of Kristen pulled her hand away from the switch and placed it on the glass between them.

"Hey," she said, with a breathless smile.

It had to be a test, a punishment, or an illusion.

Kristen was still in her short trainee's tunic, with the outlines of her chastity device and pleasure-proof pasties showing through the tight, clingy fabric.

Officers were supposed to have an air of aloof authority around people still serving their time in that uniform.

Maybe that was the test.

It wasn't easy for Leila to demonstrate what a qualified officer she still was, when she was naked, stiff, disoriented, and holding her own chastity plate in place by hand -- but she was damn well going to try.

"Give me the update, trainee," she prompted.

"Seriously?" Kristen shook her head and laughed.

She actually laughed. Sure, it sounded like a crazed stress laugh, but still, it was only a few weeks ago that Leila could have spanked this upstart new girl for such disrespect. In fact, she would have been required to.

"Okay then, debtor," Kristen responded in kind, removing her hand from the glass and sitting down on the floor across from Leila. "The update is, that woman you helped hack into the Bureau server? Artemis? Well, apparently, she's been putting that access to use."

Leila listened in silence while Kristen explained the mass shutdown of the chastity devices, and the public announcement of Privalock, the new private company touting itself as an alternative to the Bureau of Pleasure Control.

A tightly wound knot that had sat for years in Leila's stomach suddenly unraveled, and she grasped at the ends, trying to pull them back together before the structure of her being, everything she had ever hung on the strength of that knot, had a chance to collapse.

It was bad enough being locked in here, staring at the insurmountable debt on her point counter, knowing that she might never again eat solid food or wear clothes or touch her pussy, because she had risked the destruction of the Bureau and civilization as she knew it.

It was so much worse to know that she had actually caused the destruction of the Bureau and civilization as she knew it.

She couldn't even imagine the pandemonium that must be going on outside these walls, with everyone suddenly able to touch themselves and each other with no regulation at all. At best, nobody would be working. Services of all kinds would grind to a halt. At least a few people had probably already died because of Leila, accounting for jobs like emergency medicine.

She wouldn't be surprised if there were hundreds, thousands more killing themselves with exposure and dehydration and accidents, simply fucking themselves to death in riotous orgies in the streets.

#

"Sir, have you decided what you're going to do about the Click?" Zach called out.

The man shuffled quickly past Zach, avoiding the flyer in his outstretched hand.

"Ma'am, do you have a moment to talk about a pleasure management option you might not have considered?"

She didn't even look at him.

Zach sighed, tacked yet another flyer to a conspicuous tree, and studied it for a moment.

YOU DON'T HAVE TO GO BACK

The need for chastity is a LIE.

Director Daimler of the Bureau of Pleasure Control is a HYPOCRITE who gets off DAILY. He's the one who needs YOU to hold HIS life together, not the other way around.

Pleasure deprivation disrupts our natural tendencies toward cooperation and self-regulation. It tricks us into believing that we cannot be trusted. That we need more of the same discipline that cut us off from our best instincts in the first place.

You CAN own your pleasure, AND be a good person, AND meet your goals.

Come to The Mill on Saturday at seven to learn about how you can make the Click a turning point in your life, and our history.

Zach re-read it three times through, still unable to see what anyone would find unenticing about it, before moving on.

Most of the streets were eerily empty today. People had shut themselves in their homes, either afraid of the volatility in the air, or enjoying their bodies in privacy for the first time in their adult lives, or both.

The only places that seemed to be busy were the areas surrounding the Privalock signup office, and Bureau headquarters. Zach was currently assigned to the latter.

It was bustling here, but no less eerie.

There were lines spilling out the door and around the block of the building itself. Every restaurant, bar, and coffee shop within an hour's walk was overflowing with people looking for a comfortable place to wait for a lull in the Bureau's wait time. The staff of all those businesses, usually at least a few hands short, were scrambling to figure out interim policies for accepting points from devices that were no longer attached to their owners.

Zach and a few of his rebel friends had started at the edges of this clump of foot traffic, hoping to quietly divert a few stragglers before they could get inside to sign the new Bureau consent forms.

As the day had worn on, the lack of attention they'd attracted -- either good or bad -- had driven them to shout their message ever louder and closer to the center.

Who would have thought free, unlimited orgasms would be such a hard sell?

Zach was close enough now to look up at Bureau headquarters and wonder if Kristen was still inside. He wondered when she had last felt pleasure, and whether she had found what she was looking for there.

The moment when he'd pulled her toward the breach in the wall, toward freedom, stuck in his mind. She had dug in her heels so hard. She really, truly believed there was someone in that building worth going back for -- the same someone who had literally tried to steal her senses.

He should have taken it as a sign of how hard it was going to be, trying to convince anyone of anything.

Not that knowing would have stopped him.

"Miss?" he called out, and was almost startled when a young woman turned her head to acknowledge him.

"Are you with that new company?" she asked.

"I'm... with a group of people who want to change the world," Zach answered.

"Uh-huh," said the woman, squinting at the flyers in his hands.

He passed her one.

Zach had wanted to put some kind of rebel insignia on them that the public could learn to recognize, something to connect the different messages they tried to disseminate as coming from the same place.

Carmen had decided that anonymity was safer, for now. As long as the rebels could be mistaken for Privalock representatives at a glance, they might be able to piggyback off of whatever immunity Privalock had managed to negotiate for themselves.

The rebel team poaching outside the Privalock signup office were using the opposite strategy, dressing in tight gray to resemble the Bureau until they could get people alone to talk.

That is, if they ever did get anyone alone to talk. Zach hoped they were having better luck than he was.

"You believe all this?" the woman with the flyer asked, pointing at it.

Her tone was suspicious, but not dismissive.

By her age, Zach guessed that she'd only had her chastity device for maybe a year or two before the Click. Maybe she hadn't yet forgotten life without it, or come to associate the memory of freedom with the embarrassment of adolescence.

"I do," Zach answered. "How about you?"

The woman pursed her lips. "I don't know. It's interesting and all, but it seems a little too good to be true. And reckless. It feels... like fumbling around in a dark room, drinking things out of random bottles, not knowing if it's a bar or an aisle of cleaning supplies. I mean, sure, I don't know for a fact that uncontrolled pleasure is bad for me or society or whatever, but I sure don't know for a fact that it isn't, either."

"I can understand that," Zach agreed. "What's your name?"

"Sasha."

"Sasha. I'm Zach. Do you mind, could we...?"

He nodded over to a low brick wall around a decorative planter, far enough away from the nearest restaurant entrance for a private conversation, but still in plain view of the crowd.

"Sure." Sasha followed him with only one faintly apprehensive glance down at the lack of chains around his hips.

Not for the first time, Zach gave quiet thanks for his pretty face and petite frame, in spite of how much teasing they'd won him from other guys in high school. Striking up conversations with women he'd just met about their sexual habits, while he was unlocked, no less, was an extremely delicate task. It would have verged on impossible if he were even a little bit more intimidating to look at.

"I hope you don't mind my asking, and feel free not to answer," he prefaced, "but does that mean you haven't... at all, since the Click?"

Sasha blushed and folded her hands in her lap.

"That would be illegal," she half-answered.

"Would it?" asked Zach. "It's an unprecedented situation."

"I just... I just want to be safe," said Sasha.

"Of course," Zach agreed. "Everyone's trying to be safe from something. Getting in trouble. Missing out on something important."

Sasha wrung her hands in her lap, tightly enough that Zach knew he'd struck a chord.

"What if I... do it," Sasha whispered, "and I have an accident and need to go to a hospital and explain myself?"

"What kind of accident?" asked Zach. "I mean, unless you're playing with something that could get stuck, there's not much--"

"What if I go in to get re-locked, and they can just tell that I haven't been denied long enough to match my records?"

"They can't," Zach assured her. "Not with that kind of precision, especially not with women. And even if they could, they're probably too busy trying to relock people in bulk to give anyone too hard a time."

"Yes, I know, but what if?" Sasha insisted, and then let out a shaky sigh. "Why can't there just be an easy answer? I do what I'm told. I'm good at doing what I'm told. And now, all of a sudden, I haven this choice I never asked for, and I'm supposed to know what's best, all by myself?"

"A choice between the Bureau and Privalock?" Zach tested the waters.

Sasha shrugged. "Yeah, but also the choice of what to do every second in the meantime. I've been trying to pretend I still can't... you know. Because if I could, how would I know what to do with that?"

"Do you know what you like at Bureau visits?" Zach asked. "That would be a good starting point, if you wanted to try."

"I don't just mean how to do, you know, the physical part," said Sasha. "I mean, where do you put it in your day? How often is normal, when you can have as much as you want? Three times a day, like eating? Is that too much? Before the Bureau, did people only do that kind of thing in bed at night? Or could you just go into a bathroom anywhere, with anyone, any time you want?"

Zach tried not to interpret this too presumptuously as a come-on.

"Does it really matter what people thought was normal before the Bureau?" he asked softly. "Whether you decide your best bet is to go back to the Bureau, or to Privalock, or look into other possibilities, the whole point is to make things better than what existed before, isn't it?"

Sasha nodded, unconvinced.

"But...?" Zach prompted playfully.

"But what if I start, without an officer there to monitor me, and then I can't stop, ever?!" Sasha blurted out.

Her eyes were so wide that Zach could see himself in them.

"That is a scary thought," he acknowledged.

Sasha nodded earnestly.

"What if," Zach proposed, "you had a friend to keep an eye on you instead? Someone who promised to stop you if you couldn't stop yourself after, say, an hour? And then, if it came to that, they'd clean you up and deliver you to the Bureau without a word about what you'd been up to. That way, you could find out your limits, safely. No danger of dying of thirst or anything. Worst case scenario, you end up exactly where you were already planning to go, only now you'll know why you need to be there. Either way, you get to stop worrying."

Sasha blinked. She moistened her lips.

#

The restaurant had several single-user bathrooms, each one nice and roomy with a full-length door.

Zach leaned against the inside of one of these doors, with the stopwatch app at the ready on his phone, while Sasha arranged herself on top of the sink counter and pulled her panties down over her Mary Janes.

Tentatively, she pulled up the skirt of her dress, the floral kind people wore to outdoor concerts in spring. She spent a few seconds seeming to look for a comfortable angle to reach under it privately, but soon gave up, smiled shyly at Zach, and pulled it all the way up over her hips.

She hovered her fingers over her bare pussy for a few seconds, maybe telling herself that she could still back out. Then she lowered them to touch.

On contact, she gasped, already surprised by how good it felt.

Zach started the clock.

Instinct, pre-locking experience, or a combination of both took over effortlessly. Sasha stroked herself up and down her slit, once, twice, three times, and then went straight for her clit, pressing down with three fingers and working them in a firm circle.

"Oh, god," she breathed. "It's too good, it's too... it's too...."

She cried out, thighs clenching around her own hand, ankles spasming out at odd angles.

"Thirty-nine seconds down," Zach informed her, smiling to himself as he watched her muscles relax out of that quick first orgasm.

"I feel..." Sasha panted, fighting against the bliss on her own face. "I feel like I should be embarrassed by that."

"You were deprived," Zach reminded her. "And nobody's getting anything out of you taking one pace or another. This is all for you. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Okay," Sasha seemed vaguely content to take his word for it, for the moment.

"Do you think you could stop now?" asked Zach.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Sasha's face. "Yeah, I guess so. We should probably... is there a line forming outside?"

"No, I'm just asking if you could," Zach explained. "If you wanted to. Do you want to stop now?"

Sasha thought for a moment.

"I think... I think I want to try for a slower one first," she answered.

"Whenever you're ready, then," said Zach. "You've got plenty of time left."

Slowly, Sasha returned to her soft, up and down stroking motion, thighs trembling lightly with each pass. After a long while, she shifted into a much lighter, slower circle around the region of her clit, just barely touching it while skimming the folds below and the tuft of pubic hair above.

Her moans started out restrained, conscious of the restaurant full of strangers outside the door, but as her awareness flagged, they grew louder, more constant and insistent, almost as if she were begging her own body for something it held just out of reach.

About seventeen minutes in, she turned on the sink beside her, ran her fingers under the water, and returned them to her pussy with newly softened friction.

"If you could use any help," Zach approached the subject cautiously, "I'm at your disposal."

"I... um..." she groaned, "I'm so sensitive...."

"No pressure," said Zach. "Just seemed like you could use something softer and wetter than your hand."

He let his tongue stretch a little farther forward in his mouth as he spoke, making its existence obvious in both sight and sound.

Sasha's own tongue played across her lips in response. She nodded and beckoned him to her.

Zach double-checked the lock on the door behind him and joined her at the sink counter, planting his hands on either side of her hips for stability.

Keeping his eyes on hers, watching for any change in their intense but nervous agreement, he sank down between her legs and touched his tongue to the extra wet spot she'd already made with her hand.

She took in a trembling breath and leaned her head back.

He drank the droplets of tap water from her skin, barely touching the skin itself beneath them.

Her thighs fell open around him, trusting that his tongue was not something to be protected against, and allowed him to reach between the frontmost folds of her pussy to touch the hood of her clit.

He lapped at it so softly that the thin layer of skin didn't move at all over the hard little structure inside, but it was clear that Sasha could feel him, almost more acutely than she could bear.

Her moans escalated further. They were an imploring sound, and Zach did his best to read whether she was imploring him for more or less. Some gasps seemed to verge on pain, but when he pulled further away, she put her hand on the back of his neck to urge him closer.

She slapped her other hand onto the mirror behind her and scratched at the glass, rocking back and forth frantically for several seconds before groaning out a second, warbling release.

Zach crouched back on his heels and stroked Sasha's shin while she recovered.

"Thank you," she muttered.

"No problem," said Zach. "How about now? Could you stop now?"

Sasha nodded vigorously. "That was everything I needed!"

"And could you not stop now?"

"Huh?" Sasha asked dreamily.

"You still have almost half an hour left," he told her, checking his phone. "Could you keep going, if you had to?"

"I'm not sure."

"Try," he suggested. "You don't have to, but I think, when you come down, you'll be glad you did."

More hesitantly than ever, Sasha began stroking herself once more. Her every motion, from her face to her hands to her legs, lay somewhere between pleasure and wincing.

She stayed that way for several minutes, but not nearly enough to run up against the one-hour window.