The Bureau Of Pleasure Control Ch 08

(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including chastity, tease-and-denial, anal play, and electric play. This story takes place in a forced chastity dystopia where uncoerced consent is effectively impossible, but all characters gain at least some enjoyment from the scenes depicted and are over 18. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)

***

"It's very important that you get the whole story out of her," Senior Officer Kitteridge explained, while Kristen scrolled through the dauntingly long file full of questions and guidelines for Officer Deacon's performance evaluation.

"Yes, sir," Kristen nodded. "But what story, exactly? I thought this was just an annual review."

"It... is," said Officer Kitteridge, in a tone that said this was the shortest possible version of a very long answer.

He was a skinny, brittle-looking man in his fifties, with an energetic warmth to him that made Kristen feel like he was about to explain a complex mathematical principle with lots of enthusiastic pounding on a blackboard.

"Your mentor has had a busy year," he said, leaning forward against his desk. "We're fairly sure she's been working off the books with an outsider to improve some of the Bureau's systems. We appreciate her initiative, and I, for one, would bet that her secretiveness comes from perfectionism. I'm sure she's waiting for what she thinks is the right moment to present her work. Still, the fact that she didn't consider it worth keeping her superiors in the loop all along frankly doesn't reflect well on anyone."

He punctuated his explanation with an awkward, patient smile.

"I'm glad you decided to spend your points on conducting the session," the senior officer went on. "She seems to trust you. If you can convince her to share her findings in detail

now

, we're willing to overlook the... unconventional order of her actions. If she holds out any longer, however, and what she's done comes out some other way, we won't be able to excuse her."

"I understand," Kristen nodded more seriously. "I won't let you down."

#

"She's been in sensory deprivation for most of a day, and we've administered appropriate doses of sildenafil, sodium thiopental, and MDMA," Senior Officer Kitteridge summarized as two other officers guided Officer Deacon into the visitor room, each of them supporting her under one arm. "She'll be a little out of it, but also extremely aroused, and about as cooperative as a standardized formula can make a person."

One of the other officers pulled Officer Deacon's dress up over the open back of her chastity device, exposing her ass. Together, they slowly maneuvered her over the visitor's chair. Kristen only then noticed the complicated-looking metal probe that had been anchored to the seat. It was thinner than any of the disciplinary plugs she had been trained on, and it had a cage of thick wires surrounding its central shaft.

"The probe detects involuntary anal clenching," said Officer Kitteridge, "which often accompanies attempts at deception. When that happens, it will notify you," he pointed to one of the functions of the eval app on Kristen's tablet screen, "and it'll give her a little zap, just a mild deterrent."

The other officers lowered Officer Deacon onto the pre-lubricated probe.

Officer Deacon responded with a giggle that did not match the voice Kristen was used to hearing from her mouth.

"It's cold!" Officer Deacon half-complained, jokingly slapping one of the other officers on the shoulder before relaxing down into the seat and allowing her hands to be cuffed to its legs.

"You'll also have control over her personal favorite form of stimulation," said Officer Kitteridge, holding up a small disk. The surface of one side was covered in a bulge of silicone, with a hole in the middle. "Give it a try."

Kristen tapped the command on the tablet that he pointed to, and the disk began to vibrate in pulses, its hole undulating in a sucking motion.

Officer Deacon's eyes openly followed the disk. She didn't seem capable of even trying to disguise her longing.

Officer Kitteridge turned the vibrations off, tapped another command, and then touched his keycard to the sensor on Officer Deacon's device. A slit opened near the top of the device's front panel, just wide enough to slide the disk into place.

Moisture rushed to Kristen's own locked-away pussy in sympathy, as she imagined that little silicone orifice sitting motionless, right in front of Officer Deacon's long-denied and now chemically sensitized clit.

"She'll be extremely physically responsive," said Officer Kitteridge, "so I recommend giving her only one pulse at a time, whenever she shares useful information. Remind her as often as you need to that you'll turn the device on for a full minute once we've gotten everything we need."

Kristen nodded, not trusting her voice.

The excitement she'd felt for this session had grown heavier in her stomach the more she'd learned about the protocol. She couldn't help wondering if all the other trainees who had signed up to evaluate their mentors were being made to do it in the same way.

Was this really something all officers went through every year, or every few years? Was getting drugged out of her mind with a lie-detecting electrode up her ass something Kristen had to look forward to herself, once she completed her training? Or was the investigation into Officer Deacon a lot less routine than she was being led to believe?

Neither possibility was pleasant, and she doubted she'd get a useful answer by asking now.

The important thing today was just to get this all straightened out as painlessly as possible. Whatever the higher-ups were so worked up about not knowing, it couldn't be that bad. Officer Deacon might be a touch more lenient than the rulebook, but all in all, she was devoted and effective at her job.

"Keep on track with the questions in the file, and you'll be fine," said Officer Kitteridge, opening the wall panel with the camera and turning it on. "I'll be watching on the feed, so just call out if you need me."

With that, he motioned for the other two officers to follow him, and left Kristen and Officer Deacon alone.

Officer Deacon smiled vaguely across the steel table at Kristen.

"So." Kristen took a breath and scrolled to the top of the list of questions on her tablet. "When was the first time you came in contact with the individual who goes by the name Artemis?"

#

Officer Leila Deacon fed the surgical-grade ring through the new piercing in her subject's urethra, right under the head of his penis, and closed the ends into a perfect circle. She applied the high-speed healing gel to help his skin close around the new, metal intrusion, careful not to overstimulate the sensitive area.

"There, that was the painful part," she informed the man, whose face relaxed out of the wince it had frozen into over the course of the procedure.

"Thank you for your mercy," he breathed.

"If you can call it that," said Leila. "You chose the worst deal I offered you. Once I finish installing the integrated chastity backup, you'll never be able to feel genital stimulation without paying for a full unlocking again. No more opening up just the front of your cage for some quick automated pumping. No more cheap, easy orgasms. Unless you can save up the points to have the backup permanently removed, of course, but that's a

lot

more expensive than the debt credit you're getting for having it installed in the first place."

"I need it," the man insisted. "It's the only way I'll be able to stop trying to cum. I have to know that it's hopeless."

"Oh, it will certainly be hopeless," said Leila. "Whether you're smart enough to accept that remains to be seen."

She closed the steel cap of the backup around the end of his cock, fed the security bolt through the piercing, and tapped her ID card to the sensor to lock it. With only a tiny hole at the end and no give to allow for internal friction, there was no way he could pleasantly tickle himself now, not from the outside.

That little cap of metal could almost have served as a replacement for full standard chastity device, but according to policy, it was called a

backup

for a reason.

Leila fed the subject's capped dick back into its standard cage, reattached the cage to the belt of his device, and secured that with her card as well.

"I want to see you back here for a hygiene check next week," she reminded him.

"Yes, officer." said the man.

#

"And this man, he called himself Artemis?" Kristen asked, confused.

"He did?" asked Officer Deacon. "When?"

"Never mind," said Kristen. "But if he's not Artemis, why did you bring him up?"

Officer Deacon blinked, and seemed to forget that there was a question on the table.

"You are incandescent," she said, swaying in her seat. "I've never told you that, have I? You are."

"Artemis," Kristen pushed. "You were going to tell us how you met someone called Artemis."

"I was?"

"We know you were only working for the good of the Bureau," Kristen assured her. "But for the sake of your career, we need to get the record straight."

"That sounds... false," said Officer Deacon, uncertainly.

The screen of Kristen's tablet glowed.

Get her attention

, a message scrolled across the top of the eval app, no doubt from Officer Kitteridge.

Reluctantly, Kristen pushed the button to administer a shock to Officer Deacon's unclenched ass. She jumped and strained against the handcuff chains, as if she could escape the probe, and then rubbed her hips against the chair, looking for an impossible resolution to the fresh tingling in her nerves.

"All right!" she shouted irritably. "All right. Artemis."

#

Leila kept swatting away the persistent feeling that she was doing something wrong by taking the elevator all the way to the ground floor and walking across the street, into the bar on the other side.

Ever since she'd started her training at the Bureau, she had rarely left the building. Her work was there, her room was there, her friends were there, and some manner of satisfaction for all her basic needs could be found there.

There was no rule confining her, or anyone else who wasn't in debt, to the premises, however. There didn't need to be. The Bureau's control could follow her anywhere, in the form of the device chained over her pelvis. That was the whole point.

As soon as she stepped into the dimly lit establishment, she became aware of the way her uniform dress clung to her body, especially around the outline of her device. That was something she rarely thought about anymore at home, where the uniforms far outnumbered street clothes.

Here, everyone was in thick jeans, or loose skirts, or dresses with stiff paneling around the hips.

Committed now, Leila slid onto one of the cushioned stools at the bar itself. The bartender, a large, bearded man, slid a card across the polished wooden surface to her with a welcoming nod, and then returned to arranging a tray of garnishes.

Leila picked up the sturdy white card and flipped it over. There was nothing on it but a small logo for the bar itself.

"What is this?" she asked, in the same tone she'd used to ask her last subject about the latest screwdriver scratches on his device. Maybe her officer's bravado would shield her from how ridiculous she was probably about to feel.

"Oh," said the bartender, turning around again. "Have you never...? You just tap it to your... um...."

"He needs you to sync it to your point counter," said a woman, hoisting herself onto the stool next to Leila's. "Alcohol

is

an indulgence, you know."

The woman accepted another card from the bartender and slipped it down the front of her jeans, behind her grommet-lined belt. Her leather jacket opened with the gesture, showing the simple white camisole underneath. Her frame was undisguisedly thick and curvy, with almost a hand's length of visible cleavage.

Leila was used to all sorts of fully naked bodies, and of course the clingy and short uniforms of her colleagues, but revealing civilian clothes were a novelty. Most people, women especially, tended to cover up in public to avoid accusations of piling onto someone else's frustration. Leila would have bet every point on her counter that this woman considered other people's thoughts on her appearance to be a

them problem

.

The corner of the woman's mouth lifted, and she blinked a little more purposefully than normal, more of a wink with both eyes. Every line of her makeup was bold, dark, and precise.

"First time?" she asked Leila, handing the card back to the bartender. "You don't

look

like you just turned nineteen."

"I don't go out much," said Leila, tapping her card to her device through her light uniform dress and passing it back across the bar.

"You're authorized for up to five drinks at ten points each," the bartender read from his tablet, holding the card to an attached sensor. "Just let me know what you want whenever you're ready."

"Five? Damn, you really don't go out, do you?" said the woman, glancing up and down at Leila's uniform and ID card. "I always assumed you pleasure control officers were secretly wild hedonists."

"

You

can have up to two," the bartender told the woman, checking her synced card.

"Almost makes you wish for the days when one person could buy another a drink, doesn't it?" said the woman, pulling an elastic out of her dark auburn hair and shaking it out. "I'll have a Cosmo."

"The same," Leila told the bartender, rather than try to remember the name of anything else. There was an annoying lack of menus around, only a list of beers, which she had never cared for.

"At least two people can have a drink, in the same place, at the same time," said the woman. "If that's all right with you?"

Leila had come here with every intention of sitting alone until she could stand the thought of walking back to headquarters, and then doing so, unnoticed. Presented with the offer of company, however, she found herself unwilling to turn it down.

The bartender set down two martini glasses, with the rims touching, and poured in the pink liquid from the shaker in perfectly equal portions.

"Leila," said Leila, raising her glass to the woman.

"Artemis," the woman raised hers in reply. "What's the occasion, Leila?"

Leila glanced to her drink and back at Artemis, wondering if this particular cocktail had a special occasion association, like champagne.

"You never go out," Artemis explained. "And now you are. Did you paddle your millionth ass today, or something?"

Leila took a sip of the pleasantly bittersweet drink, set it down, and stared down at the rest, rotating the glass by its bottom.

"Something like that."

"I'm slightly more curious now than I already was," said Artemis.

Leila took another sip.

"I was capping off the dick of this guy, this chronic would-be escape artist who can't take a hit," said Leila. She tried to practice the disdainful tone she'd use if she were reporting on his session to a superior, but for now, the words came out defeated. "Right as I was locking the bolt through his piercing, I just... I couldn't see the point. I know he's going to be right back in my visitor room next week. And I can make him clean every bathroom in that building naked, or I can cane the living tar out of this guy who cries when I approach him with a feather flogger, but either way, he'll try again. He always tries again." She sighed. "So his new device is harder to get out of. So what? He never got out of his standard cage anyway, no matter how hard he tried. The only difference is now he could really hurt himself in the process."

Artemis listened intently. "So, you thought you'd go stretch your legs and ask a glass of alcohol whether you're accomplishing anything with your life," she continued the story with razor precision. "Has it answered yet?"

#

"You were considering leaving?" Kristen asked breathlessly.

"I don't know," Officer Deacon answered, with no shock from the probe. "Maybe. Maybe I only needed a break. A fresh perspective."

"But you found it, right?" said Kristen. "You talked with Artemis, and together you decided to rededicate yourselves to a project to benefit the Bureau... didn't you?"

#

Leila didn't question it when Artemis took her hand, exchanged knowing nods with the bartender, and led the way down the hall toward the bathrooms.

After all, what could possibly happen? Nothing serious enough to get worked up about.

Artemis turned off the main hallway through two unmarked doors. The first brought them to what looked like a junk storage room, with an old industrial sink and lots of precarious rows of broken furniture and empty bottles, perhaps awaiting sorting and recycling.

The second door opened onto what had definitely been a supply cupboard in the architect's original plans. It had since been repurposed with a loveseat and a string of twinkling white lights overhead.

"It's quiet in here," said Artemis. "Best seat in the house to..." she smiled, "talk."

She had barely finished the last word when Leila kissed her.

The two of them sank onto the loveseat, Leila dragging the door closed behind them.

The kiss did not stop for many minutes, only deepened, accompanied by the constant, stirring movement of hands. Leila reached under Artemis's jacket to stroke the softness of her body through her camisole, and Artemis sat up on her knees to bring Leila's mouth down to her breasts.

"Yes, a nice place to

talk

," Leila agreed with her lips still on one of Artemis's breasts, working her way down to the rim of her pleasure-proof pastie. "But not much else."

"You're not bored of me already, are you?" Artemis asked against Leila's neck.

"Of you? No," Leila answered.

"Good." Artemis reached under Leila's skirt and flicked the front panel of her chastity device, making it reverberate against her inner hips. When Leila responded with an excited intake of breath, Artemis leaned down and ran her tongue over the same spot she had flicked. Leila could almost feel the warmth of her tongue. Almost.

"Do you..." Leila returned to the point she'd been trying to make, "want to go across the street with me instead?"

"And invite some pleasure control officer to ruin all this privacy?" Artemis laughed, stroking Leila's thigh. "No thanks."

Leila was in no hurry to see any of her colleagues or the inside of the building again either, but the heat growing under her device was reaching the point where it would be worth it. She was hoping Artemis felt more or less the same.

"Well, I am an officer," Leila noted. "I could conduct a session for you. Just the two of us.

I'd

still be locked up of course, but then...."

"I don't like being ordered around," said Artemis bluntly, pulling off her jacket. "Not even a hottie like you is going to change that."

"Then what do you usually do?" Leila asked. "When you need release?"

"This," answered Artemis, kissing her again.

With their lips still locked together, Artemis unfastened her belt and jeans and pulled them down over her ample hips. She reached back under Leila's skirt, this time cupping her ass, and guided Leila's hand to mirror her.

Kneeling on the loveseat, with their legs alternating between each other, Artemis's fingers skimmed lightly along the sensitive skin at the open back of Leila's device. She caressed the valleys under and between her cheeks, and finally gave her hole a questioning little tickle with one fingertip.

Leila had been caressing Artemis's ass in response, but at this, she paused.

"You don't like it?" asked Artemis.