Why I Love My Job Ch. 06

I slid the violet wand down her torso, between her legs... and slipped the tip, slowly, into her asshole. "Don't move. You don't want that to break and you don't want it to turn on by mistake. Don't move at all."

The wand had a safety switch, and I locked it, since an accident would have been incredibly painful, and this was only about threats. The wand looked sturdy, but I wrapped my toes around the cord so I could yank it away from her if she forgot and started thrashing.

I pushed the dildo in deeper and turned to high, and then slowly licked and sucked her lips as I worked her nipples between my fingers. Her kisses were unbelievably hot, and her breathing became a desperate panting, then frantic gasping. After a few minutes she began to struggle to hold her orgasm back; I only chuckled and began fucking her with the dildo, and nibbling on her lower lip.

Slowly, she began to arch-

"I will turn on the shocker if you come. Hold utterly still no matter what."

"P-pl-please-" she begged. I pushed the dildo in deep, twisting it inside her, and watched her struggle with not squeezing down on it -- if she did, she'd come.

I picked up the other vibrator, turned it on high, and ground it against her clit, and gave her mouth very, very gentle, wet kisses.

Animal moans and cries, and she shuddered from head to toe-

"PLEASE! I MUST! PLEASE!"

I took the vibrators away, removed the wand, turned it on high and touched it rapidly and randomly all over her body -- under her arms, against her belly, her throat, her palm, her clit, and then slowly across her breast towards her nipple. "I expect obedience," I snarled. "Why can't you learn that?"

"I can! I can! I will!"

"I don't believe you. Maybe this belongs up your ass after all..." I slid it down her belly, listening to it crackle and spark.

"I'll be good!" she sobbed.

My cock was stone hard and throbbing urgently. I hadn't exactly believed her when she said her kisses were drugged, but this was a magnificent erection, and the smell, feel and sight of her was turning me into a raging current of need. I gagged her again, and shocked her all over her shivering, pink skin; her terrified shuddering became wordless pleas for use. Suddenly I tossed the wand aside and forced myself into the warmest, wettest, most inviting slit imaginable. Fuck it felt good! She writhed, frantic to please me, incoherent words trapped by the gag. I love a pretty face, but I had to admit that fucking a blindfolded, gagged woman was burning hot. It reduced her to something to use and come in, and as men so rarely admit, that's what we want women to be during sex. I shifted on my elbows, taking her sensual breasts in my hands, and squeezing down. "Squeeze my cock when I squeeze your tits," I snarled, panting. She nodded frantically. Just a minute of that and my orgasm became inevitable, that glorious feeling of pressure and fullness and gushing and oh FUCK-

I poured into her, snarling. She didn't come, but she thrashed in hunger.

As soon as I was done I pulled out, picked up the wand, and shocked her lower lip, then her belly again. This was supposed to be torture, after all. To my surprise she nearly came, and got closer on each shock.

I took the wand away, and just breathed for a moment, looking at her.

I didn't fully understand why this had been done to her. Petty revenge explained a lot, but she seemed to have accepted her fate. She'd been made the perfect fuck toy, but the man that arranged it wasn't fucking her, and had left her for others to find. I shook her head. She'd been screwed with, but if the idea had been to make her miserable, had it really worked? Maybe she was an object lesson to other people. No, she wasn't allowed to talk about what happened to her; I was a special case because I already knew the details. Did the vice president merely get off on breaking women? Sure, I could see that, but then he'd want her around. And he hadn't arranged it that way.

I traced my hand over her belly. She shuddered, trying to tilt her hips, trying to get my hand between her legs. She was desperate.

Unbelievably, I was getting hard again. I'd fooled around with performance enhancing drugs one or twice, but they were nothing like this. Whatever drug her kiss imparted, it kicked ass.

In a way, she was the perfect Service Girl now. Guaranteed pleasure for any man, just a kiss and a fuck away, and she was impossibly eager to give that pleasure. I'd read historical accounts -- or maybe they were fictional, it was hard to know what the publishing arm of the Company altered and suppressed and exaggerated in the books it sold -- where girls had been addicted to drugs and then made to provide sex to get their fixes. This was more or less the same thing. But the Company didn't have an economic interest in Services; the one thing it couldn't sell was human labor. It wasn't going to field an army of Cheryl-like whores.

Of course there'd be huge money in selling a procedure that made women like this, but she said it required surgery. The logistics of doing this to unwilling women on even a small scale would be a deal breaker. And it would never be legal.

I thought about it a bit, and a clearer picture emerged. The research was going somewhere; I had to assume upper management had a business model in mind and were after something that would make tons of money, because that was their fixed function. It didn't matter what it was, but they needed ongoing research to get there, and drug trials. Cheryl had fucked up, so they used her for their trials, and then... nothing. They kept her employed, provided drug to her, and moved on. She wasn't being punished per se. She'd been used and then cast aside, irrelevant and forgotten.

It was worse than punishment and worse than malice. At least malice is something you focus on a person; it was personal. This was purely impersonal. She was literally a toy now, left on the floor for anyone to find. And possibly step upon.

She was an irresistible toy though. My cock was throbbing again. I was a machine. I got on her again, pushed in -- fuck yes, I'd do this until I dropped from exhaustion-

I took her hard, ignoring her incoherent pleading for mercy, and just let myself come again, in her and on her. Then I stroked the vibrator low on her belly.

"Interrogation time. Answer my questions and you'll get to come. Give me any trouble and coming will be the last thing on your mind. Nod if you understand."

She nodded.

I experimented with the suction devices on her nipples. They made her extremely eager to come, but couldn't put her over the edge. Perfect.

I hit her with question after question, edging her with the vibrator when she answered, touching her randomly with the wand when she hesitated. In her drugged state, the wand was much more terrifying than it should have been and it always got instant answers when I applied it. In a half hour I knew more about her sexual preferences and desires than I'd ever need to, but she didn't remember much about her week as a lab rat and I didn't get much insight into the drugs and procedures involved. By then my cock was screaming for attention again, so I pushed it into her mouth, raped her with the dildo and told her to suck and come. Coming girls don't suck very well, and she just kept coming, but eventually I came down her throat. I let her lick me clean.

"You've been a good toy," I told her. "But... I have a room full of men here who want to fuck you. And you're going to please them all."

She sobbed, nodding. I gagged her again, then cut her free, repositioned her ass to the edge of the couch, and bound her again, legs stretched wide apart, with her wrists behind her. It was a very inviting pose.

I fucked her with the dildo, telling her to "please him". The drug's fantasy aspect was very effective -- she apparently believed it was a cock, taking her. I gave her five or six "men", two of which were me; and then used the vibrator on her to see how many times she could come. I gave up at eight, and fucked her again. I didn't dare kiss her. I didn't know how long the drug in her kisses lasted, and being able to fuck over and over was a blast, but I was going to need an ace bandage for my cock as it was.

Slowly the madness in my veins faded. I jerked off into her open mouth one last time -- my cum was nearly clear now, I was amused to note - and then just sagged in physical exhaustion. I cut her free, leaving her blindfolded. She crawled against me, nuzzling and shivering and offering kisses, which I refused. Slowly, she came down as well.

"Sir," she whimpered.

I removed the blindfold. "You okay now?"

"That... that was... no words. You have a sadistic gift for... erotic interrogation."

"I think Black X gets most of the credit. Cheryl, I'm not your mommy but I have to say it: you have to be unbelievably careful who you let use that on you. Shit could happen."

"I think that's the point, sir. Eventually I'll do something stupid and trust the wrong person. It will go badly for me at that point. Why should the Company get rid of me, or even fire me? That's too public. Someone will take care of the problem for them..."

"Are you insane? Just get a boyfriend!"

"I'm not really girlfriend material, sir. I'm addicted and obsessed and I want this all the time. I'll end up in the bar scene, and you can imagine how that will go. I kiss any man I want, and not long afterwards he's taking me home. It's a matter of numbers. Sooner or later it will be the wrong man."

"Cheryl...!"

"Learn from me, sir. I'm what happens when you piss off the Company."

+++

Julianne got back the next day. Being honest at heart, I told her about Cheryl. The horror of what I described hit her harder than it hit me.

"She has to be helped. Someone has to do something."

"What? I don't want involvement in this."

"She's going to be fucking strangers. A whore for free without a pimp. You said she knows how that ends. She's a dead woman, walking. Something has to be done!"

"What, do you want her to move in here?"

"No," she said, coldly. "And doing something for her doesn't mean fucking her every night."

"I don't know what else can help her."

"Well, can't you get together a bunch of guys who will... I mean how do I even put this... care for her needs and not abuse her, while you figure out her issue?"

"Most of the guys I know like variety. A steady diet of Cheryl, no matter how pleasing she gets... it won't work. They'll get bored eventually."

"Nice to know sex isn't everything," she said, neutrally.

"It's a lot, but no it's not everything. Obviously. If it was, all the sluts would be able to hold the guys."

"They do hold a lot of them, it seems."

I stared at her. "I'm with you tonight, not her."

"I wish you hadn't been with her at all."

"Want me all to yourself, do you?"

She didn't answer.

"Because sex isn't everything, but it is a lot. You're volunteering to keep me happy?"

"I have no idea how," she said, coldly.

"I'll teach you."

"When you aren't busy."

I sighed. "You know I'm sexual with other women, or at least that I planned to be. Sure, you hate it. But this anger isn't just about that."

"Very perceptive. No. It's about you. A woman has been raped and ruined. You think her actual life could be at risk, but you act like it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. I mean I guess everyone matters. But what do you expect me to do about it?"

"You could start by caring."

"Julianne... I hate to say it but this is how it goes. The Company... coercive doesn't begin to describe it. The people who run the place are completely cold, and they step on people whenever they want. Follow the prevailing wind and you sail to wealth and comfort. Oppose it and you end up on the rocks like Cheryl. It's not pretty but it's reality."

"Trimmer!"

"Um... what?"

"Never mind. You probably haven't read Dante's Inferno."

"Never heard of it."

"Try it sometime. A lot of it should resonate with you."

"Whatever. I just don't see how Cheryl is my problem to solve. What happened to her is wrong but... so? That's just how it goes."

"You don't get it," she suddenly raged. "My soldier friends -- they promised to protect me, they kept me safe, at risk to themselves, and not so they could get something back from me. Just because they were good! But you wouldn't understand anything about that. Because you only understand things that are about you!"

The door slammed and she was gone.

+++

I was pissed, and I considered my response. The easy one -- open the holo and watch some porn. She'd hear it, and very little pisses off women more. Another option was to storm out there and make her listen to why dealing with other people's problems was a stupid and dangerous way to live, and which didn't lead to the nice diet and nice car and comfortable life she had now, thanks to my toeing the line and staying out of trouble.

But I chose the third, the hard way. I decided to sit and try to think about what she said.

It did not go very well.

"Julianne."

She didn't answer. The door hadn't opened so she hadn't left the apartment.

"Julianne, please come here."

"Why," she said from the other side of the door. I could have gotten frostbite from the level of warmth in her voice.

"I need your help."

There was a pause, and the door opened. She'd been crying. That didn't help.

"Come in," I said.

"Yes sir."

This was absurd, I realized. It was one thing to realize that my moral compass was broken, that I'd never even bothered to blow dust off it and try to figure out which marking was North. It was another to go to an eighteen year old girl for help. I was supposed to be the mature and knowledgeable one.

But who else would I go to? Tom, who had a deep disdain for people brighter than he was? Which said something about me, now that I thought about it. Greg, who made objectivists look like whoever that final Catholic pope had been? Eric, for whom everything was a joke? Suzie who'd nod and smile at anything I said, and try to suck my cock?

Julianne was somehow the only person I knew who cared what happened to other people.

She sat down.

"I'm lost," I said abruptly. "I'm trying to think through what it means that Cheryl's in trouble. I'm trying to understand how it fits in with my life, and I'm realizing I'm too selfish to even ask the question. And that worries me. I hadn't realized just how... frozen... my view of things is. You aren't like that. Make me understand."

"You see her as a toy."

"That's what she is, now. Before I saw her as a possible fuckbuddy and a sort of partner in very mild crime, someone to trade information with. She was never a friend. But that's not it. She's not your friend either, but what's happened to her has you furious. I don't... have that. And suddenly I think that's a problem. Why don't I care?"

"Do you care about me?"

I frowned. "You know I do. The macho in me wants to laugh the question off -- you're easier to manage if you aren't sure. But we both know I do."

"Do you love me?"

"Julianne... I've come a thousand miles just being able to admit I care about you. Let's just agree that I don't love easily and maybe never have."

"Then that's the problem. You don't love. Love is where you see the value in someone other than yourself. You see no point in Cheryl, at least when her legs are closed. She's meaningless to you if she's not getting you off. Not unimportant, meaningless. And that's just wrong."

I hadn't liked it when I guessed the Company had used her and thrown her aside. I hadn't liked it because she was being treated as meaningless. But it was ok when I did it, apparently. I had two sets of rules: one for me and one for others. I'd always been vaguely aware of it, and it had never bothered me. But it bothered me now; it was a problem. So now I had two problems, selfishness and inconsistency. Would I have three in a minute? Four? Was my view of the world built on a bunch of rotted-out ethics?

"Do you love me?" I asked her.

"If I did you cured it a half hour ago."

I sighed. "Did you?"

"I wasn't letting myself think about it. You're not a good person to fall in love with."

I stared at her. She was eighteen. I'd noticed her because she had the right boobs and legs. Anyone loving anyone had never been part of the plan.

But I didn't like hearing I wasn't a good person to fall in love with. And simultaneously, I had to admit it: she was utterly right.

"Does it make sense," I asked, "that having you love me wasn't anything I thought about... but hearing that you can't, hurts?"

"Yes, but it doesn't make me respect you any more. If there isn't going to be love, just let me go. I'm a woman and I can't a life without it forever."

"And if I help Cheryl, that changes things?"

"Maybe. Only if there's personal risk to you. For extra credit, don't fuck her afterwards."

I sat, and thought.

"There'll be plenty of risk. But I don't know if I can do anything alone. Will you help? There's risk in it for you, too."

She gave a little mirthless smile. "After I lectured you, I guess I have to say yes."

"Even though you know, now, how the Company deals with non-compliant women. Even though you don't like Cheryl. Even though if we succeed there is nothing in this for you, and every possibility that Cheryl will throw herself at me out of gratitude."

"Even though all of that," she said, simply.

I looked at her for a long, long moment. And then I picked up her hand, and kissed it. She gave me a strange little smile. "What's that for?"

"I don't know where you came from, or if there are any more in the world like you. But I'm glad there's at least one of you, and that you're here with me."

"Why thank you, sir," she said, eyes shining a little.