The Spy Rider Ch. 03

I feel another stab of pain and then another. The assault upon my impostor's sex proceeds methodically and rapidly down one side and then up the other. Only I suffer each violation. Burning salves and dabbing towels are pressed against my impostor's privates until some moment of my tormentor's satisfaction. Something cool and slippery is poured between the folds shortly before something with a slick, unforgiving surface is slipped into my sex. I mean, my impostor's sex. After all, my sex has been filled with foreign objects for months now.

My labia is stretched. Something lances through the holes that have been made. I believe that it is smooth but it feels as though it is barbed with thorns - the way that it rubs against my fresh wounds. Whatever it is, it is threaded from one side to the other. I feel and uncomfortable pinch and hear a popping sound. The process is repeated again and again.

My sex feels numb and hot and heavy. It is cleaned and coated with lotions. Then I hear a click and a silent whirring sensation starts somewhere inside my impostor. I feel the buzzing and whirring jiggle the newly added weight of the rods pierced through her lips. The sensation is present, but only just. I am uncertain of its purpose.

I hear my assailants pack their tools of torture and leave. My impostor shifts and snores quietly, enjoying the bliss of oblivion.

-

My impostor is shaking uncontrollably. I can feel tears running down her face. Mistress quietly strokes her thumb along the cool trail where the tear had rolled. This is the end.

The last thing that my impostor said to Mistress was simple and fitting. "I will always love you," she said. I am proud of her. She has been bold. Now my impostor is silenced with some device shoved and locked tightly into her mouth.

Two days after she awoke from her shaving and piercing the guards came for her and hefted the heavy steel ball into her arms for the final time. She walked smoothly and proudly through the labyrinth of subterranean corridors and into the operating theater where she was locked wrist and ankle to a chair bolted to the floor.

Her collar was removed. A series of heavy semicircular half rings were placed around her neck and squeezed together until a series of clicks sounded out. When Mistress and the Good Doctor stepped away, the metal remained, tight and seamless. I knew that this new collar would not ever be removed. Would never be able to be removed.

It would not be removed from my impostor, that is. I am not she.

A plate with strategically arranged grills is bolted over my impostor's sex. Rivets hold the plate in place. The plate holds the insert inside my impostor and I continuously feel the slight whirring and jiggling. It is ever present.

Now, I am looking upon my Mistress. She has pulled a chair up in front of me. She sits in the chair. Something cold and unyielding cups the back side of my impostor's bald head. It has been attached to the permanent collar around her neck. I can feel it pass behind her ears and over the crown of her head.

"I read about this device on the web," Mistress explains. "I had one designed and built. It is called a USD. It is simple and does all the things that I need to do to you. It makes you disappear. It takes away your eyes and ears and your voice. It takes away your beautiful face, and that makes me sad."

Mistress sighs. "I decided that I wanted to keep the rest of you as a human woman. My human woman. Forever."

She holds up a bowl shaped object. My impostor jerks and shakes a little suddenly. I think that she is realizing that this would become her new face for the rest of her life.

I am not she. I am not she.

The inner surface seems contoured to press tightly against her face with padding and connections and machinery. I can only focus on the outer surface, though. It is smooth and featureless. From now on, my impostor's head will be nothing more than a cold metal sphere.

Mistress leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. She places a finger on the spot cooled by her kiss. I could hear the air rushing through my impostor's nose. Her head rocks back and forth as she begins to hyperventilate. Her hands are gripped tightly around the arms of the chair.

"I'm sorry, Heartless. I... I will never love again as I have loved you," Mistress sits back. Her eyes are red with tears. My impostor shuts her eyes.

"Open them back up!" I yell in my head. I want to see Mistress one last time. "Please!!"

"I imagine that the isolation will be taxing, my love. Just remember our song."

My impostor's entire body is shaking uncontrollably now. When she finally opens her eyes again, they are so clouded by tears, I can not see properly.

"She's my fave," Mistress begins to sing. "Undressing in the sun. Return to sea. Bye! Forgetting everyone. Eleven high. Ride a wave!"

Mistress leans forward. "Good-bye, my love."

I see the front half of the device rise up to my face until its dark interior occludes any other visual input. I hear the murmurs of buried screams deep inside my impostor's throat. I feel the contours of the interior press firmly and comfortably against her face. I hear the clicks sound out from far away as locks engage, sealing my impostor's head away forever.

-

I am lying in a bed. Or rather, my impostor is lying in a bed. I suppose we are the same now, isolated, deprived of senses. I feel the soft cloth of the mattress. I feel the constant, distracting buzz that is too gently rattling my impostor's sex. I have no idea how long we have been here. I have no sense of time. It feels like weeks. It might have been days. I've decided not to count trips to the bathroom.

There is nothing to do, but exist.

I wonder if my impostor and I have the same nightmares.

-

I awake after what must have been a very, very long time. The ceiling above me is very blurry, yet it is also definitely not one of the limited few I have experienced in my last few years. At first I begin to wonder where my impostor is. Then, suddenly I try to sit up, myself.

I feel my entire body tremble. I'm weak. Still, I feel my head begin to lift off the pillow on which it lies. My perspective shifts. It shifts because I, myself, have commanded it to shift. I am wearing a leather collar of some sort and very quickly I encounter the greatest extent that it lets me move with a short, sharp jerk that sends me back down onto my pillow.

I am me! I am no longer in my shell! I try to say something, but my throat is dry and sore and my voice is naught but a harsh whisper.

A face appears over me. She is unfamiliar to me. I have never seen her before - her sprawling, brown hair. I know that even though her image is nothing but a blob of colors.

"Welcome back to the real world, Heartless," the brown-haired woman says.

"Where...?" I try to talk, but am unable to do more than cough and hack up phlegm.

"Oh, have no fear, Heartless. You are still in prison," she says with a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "In fact, I believe that your sentence has been lengthened significantly, out of necessity, of course." I think that she is smiling.

I spend a moment try to clear my throat. "What is going on? What happened?"

"Well," Brown Hair states as she walks away from my bed back to a desk where she has been working. "It would seem that your Mistress, the love of your life, didn't really give a flying fuck about you. Kinda sad, isn't it?"

"Whatever. Fuck you," I rasp back. I try to pull my hands to my eyes but they are chained to the rails of the bed I am in. They have no range of motion at all.

"Right... Whatever... Ha! She said that she would keep you forever... but it only took two weeks to change her mind."

"What do you mean?" I am squinting my eyes trying to get tears into them to clear my vision.

"Well, she ditched you pretty fast. Or, I should say she ditched your clone. She shoved her in a small cage and welded the door closed. Then she sent her to an underground sex club with feeding instructions. Apparently, the effort to break the cage open was more work than the owners of the club wanted to do. As far as we can tell, they simply displayed her inside her cage as a curiosity for their customer's twisted enjoyment."

As the woman speaks, I am trying to clear my throat. I am looking around the room. I am trying to figure out more about my surroundings. There is a desk. Lots of medical equipment. There is another bed.

"We were afraid that with the helmet on the clone's head, you would quickly lose whatever... er... clarity you might still have, so we put you into a coma for a while and pulled you out of the receiver."

"Receiver?" I ask. I am pretty sure there is a body lying in the second bed.

"Yes. The hard shell that you have been stored in for the past 5 months. I doubt that your clone will have any sense of clarity. Sensory deprivation is a harsh sentence."

"Is that her?" I ask pointing in the direction of the bed with my finger.

"Yeah," the woman is typing something on the computer. "We took her back. We made her. She's government property... then again, I guess that you are too."

I stare at the woman in the bed - the perfect replica of me. I can not make out facial features.

"Is she still wearing the helmet?" I ask.

"Yep... Do you know how to take it off?"

"No."

"We didn't want one of our clones out in the real world. We'll recycle her."

"Recycle?"

"Sure. She's no use to us now." The woman stops and turns to face me. "You, on the other hand... we'll need to run some tests to see what kinds of effects your experience has had on you mentally and physically... Of course, you no longer exist so, after the tests are done, who knows what they will do with you... Not my problem..."

"Splendid."

"I must say, though, you should feel proud. Our experiment with cloning and spying has worked marvelously and we are getting a humongous expansion of our budget. These are exciting times." The woman laughs smugly. "You have helped so much."

We sit in silence for a moment. I hear the woman begin to click the keys of a keyboard.

"There is something on the front of the helmet. Some word, maybe?" I ask straining my eyes as best as I can.

"Yeah... It says, 'Sing'."

"Sing?" I ask.

"Sing." she says.

I start laughing. My voice chokes and I hack up a bit of phlegm. "Sing!" I state a little more loudly, laughing all the while.

The woman starts laughing too. "Yeah... Sing... The clone won't be doing that any time soon though. Ha! Your Mistress is one cold bitch."

I continue to laugh more loudly. "Sing!" Hysteria washes over me and my laughter slowly subsides.

"You should have chosen your friends better," the woman suggests then turns back to her computer.

"She's my fave. Undressing in the sun," I sing. I try to clear my throat. I want my voice to be strong and steady. "Return to sea. Bye. Forgetting everyone. Eleven high."

"Nice tune," the woman says.

"Ride a wave..."

I settle back in my bed to await my fate.

-

Fifteen minutes pass as I marvel in the sensation of the smells of the room. I've missed smells. I look forward to tasting some food.

The door opens.

"Oh, good," the woman says. "You can take the prisoner to her cell."

A guard walks over to my bed and releases a brake of some sort. Then she starts to wheel me towards the door. The bed stops and I hear keys rattling in the locks around my wrist.

"Uh..." the woman says suddenly looking up. "You are not supposed to release her. She is a trained killer... even in her weakened state."

The guard ignores the woman and continues to work on my cuffs.

The woman stands and begins to walk towards us. Then she stops and reconsiders her position. "Who the hell..." The woman turns and starts to reach for an emergency alarm button, but as she turns, she comes face to face with...

Well... with me!

My clone has arisen from the bed and is no longer wearing the helmet. She has a shadow of new hair growing on her head. She skin is red and blotchy. But, she has my face.

"Hi!" my clone says, blocking the woman's access to the emergency button.

The woman looked at my clone and then back me and the guard.

"Hi, Elif! Hi, me!" my clone says with a smile.

"You... You can't kill me!" the woman yells. "You still have the conditioning." She starts to push my clone out of the way.

"Oh! But I want you alive." And my clone punches the woman solidly on the side of her face and we all watch as the woman crumbles to the floor.

-

"...Mistress was suspicious of your 'experimental prison term' from the beginning," Elif explains as the van carries four of us back to the mansion. We are joined by the heavily sedated brown-haired woman from the prison. And my clone, my impostor.

"It took a while, certainly longer than we wanted, to get our spies into the prison, but we knew all along what was going on. We knew that you were locked in the shell. And we knew that the shell was the means by which all of her," Elif says, pointing at my clone, "activities were being monitored. Most everything that the two of you have experienced for the past half year has been a grand act."

"No doubt!" I exclaim. "I thought that you were buried in cement."

"I was. For about ten minutes. They pulled me back out the moment that she [my clone] was whisked away. Scariest fucking thing that I've ever done. Fucking Schulz..."

"And you... uh... Heartless," I say. "How did you survive all that time with the USD on your head without going crazy?"

My clone smiles. "I just about DID go crazy. But Mistress' spies knew when you had been placed into the coma. As soon as you and I were no longer linked, a video console inside the helmet came to life. She has been in constant communication with me for weeks. She explained everything to me. She was in video contact with me when you woke up. My fingers were crossed. The only way for the helmet to be removed was for our voice to sing the song that you sang. I know I certainly would have gotten the hint to 'sing'. I just hoped that you would to. I didn't believe that I was a clone for a while. Even now, I'm finding it difficult to come to terms with, but I cannot deny that I am not quite you. It seems that I have difficulty remembering things about our shared past without being tethered to you."

"Yes!" Elif took over. "And, our new friend here will tell us all about the nature of the tether that you two shared... After she is properly integrated into the organization, of course."

I knew Mistress would take care of us. She is so brilliant. I feel giddy. I feel more happy than I have ever been.

I look over at my clone. I am kind of cute, I guess. Even with a bald head. She sees me staring at her and leans towards me and lightly presses my cheek with a kiss. As she starts to straighten up, I hook my arm around her neck and pull her back towards me and I feel what it feels like when my soft lips kiss lips. I slide my hand up her thigh.

I don't think that this can be considered self-gratification, can it? We've entered some kind of gray area here, I believe.

Certainly.

The End.