(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including a MILF f/f age gap scene, male and female chastity, edging, pussy paddling, pegging, group sex, hand stuff, mouth stuff, and some m/f and m/m sexual interactions, too. 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. Be aware, this episode does have one brief, reluctant handjob in Artemis's section, marked with a ## instead of a # before it. A plot-only summary of that section is included at the end, in case you prefer to skip it.)
***
Kristen tapped her ID card to the sensor on the side of the subject's Bureau-issued chastity device.
The cage disconnected from its frame with a click, and the subject let out a tremulous breath of anticipation, as Kristen eased the tight wire restraint off of his already dripping cock, allowing the blood to flow in.
"Would you look at that?" Kristen sighed, crouching down with her hands on the man's knees, to watch the appendage bob and stretch and stand up.
It took the man a moment to recognize the gentle command in her words. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, and when he lifted it to obey her, he forced his gaze onto his cock for only a moment, before looking past it to her face.
"Are you scared?" Kristen asked him. "Does looking at it make you want to touch it more?"
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Kristen nodded as well. "I can't blame you for that. Who wouldn't feel that way? I'm a little tempted to touch it myself. I mean, look at it. Isn't it beautiful?"
"I..." a fragile smile took hold on the man's face. "I guess so, ma'am."
"It's like--"
A sharp double-tap on the steel table behind Kristen interrupted her musings on the pulsing bit of trapped magic awakening between the man's legs.
Her shoulders pulled upward in annoyance, but she forced them back down, winched a smile onto her face, and turned to look up at her new mentor, Officer Brixton.
"Lean forward a little more," he told her. "Let him think there's a chance you're going to suck it for him."
Kristen managed with difficulty to keep her smile on, and her palm away from her face. "Yes, sir."
She turned back toward the subject, adjusted her posture closer, and tried to find her way back to her moment.
The man kept glancing over her shoulder at Officer Brixton now, and his face was no longer soft enough to hold any expressions that might be called fragile. He was shifting in his seat, and Kristen was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the pressure in his balls. He seemed to be searching for the nonexistent angle that would camouflage his rounded belly.
She had
just
gotten him to relax and stop looking at the pile of his clothes as if he wanted them back.
"I don't think you have to worry," Kristen called the subject's attention back to her, back to the general space between his legs. "You're not going to touch yourself. You didn't earn all those points by being impulsive. You have the strength. You have the discipline. And you know the cost of unauthorized stimulation. You're not going to waste all your hard work and sacrifice now. No matter how long I make you stare at it, no matter how beautiful it is, you won't--"
"Stop calling it beautiful," Officer Brixton ordered. "Cocks can be either impressive or pathetic, but they can't stop being ugly. No one's going to believe you if you say otherwise."
"Yes, sir." Kristen managed not to speak completely through her teeth. She winked at the subject and mouthed, "beautiful," her lips a matter of an inch away from the dripping head.
"And you need to blow on it," said Officer Brixton.
"Yes, sir," Kristen sighed, and did as she was told.
The subject didn't respond to the jet of air she swept across his skin. He was too absorbed in glancing back and forth between her and Officer Brixton, preparing for a threat. His dripping had slowed to a crawl.
Kristen couldn't blame him. There were few situations more awkward than being sworn to obey two people who couldn't agree with each other.
"Are you sure you only want twenty thrusts into the sheath?" Kristen asked him.
Twenty probably would have been more than enough to make him cum when she'd first removed his cage, but with Officer Brixton still hovering, he'd probably be better off budgeting higher, in anticipation of distractions.
"Actually..." the subject hesitated. "Maybe I should--"
A light beep announced an authorized keycard being pressed to the visitor room door.
"Kristen. My office," Commander Hawkins barked, sticking his head into the room.
The subject's erection wilted in alarm.
Kristen wasn't sure whether to be relieved or doubly annoyed. "Coming, sir!"
She stood up and smoothed out her short, white uniform.
"I'm not sure how long this will take," she told the subject. "Would you like to wait?"
"No, thanks, I..." the subject stood up with her and reached for his own detached cage. "I was thinking maybe I should save up some more and come back another day."
"Hey," Officer Brixton sat up a little straighter in his chair to look at Commander Hawkins. "Kristen is
my
trainee, and she's in the middle of--"
"I need her," Commander Hawkins emphasized. "Now."
"...the middle of session that I'm perfectly capable of completing myself," Officer Brixton shifted gears, turning his focus to the subject.
When Kristen scurried out of the room to follow Commander Hawkins, the subject was still trying to lock his own cage back in place with the politest of excuses.
#
As the newly appointed head of the Bureau's freshly beefed-up site security department, this was what Commander Hawkins seemed to spend most of his time doing: sticking his head in places security had no need to be, and yelling at what Kristen considered an entirely unnecessary volume.
He yelled at everyone. He yelled at his own security staff, who also yelled at each other, even when they seemed to be happy. He yelled at the pleasure control officers, and he yelled louder at the trainees. Sometimes he even yelled at the subjects when he barged in on their sessions.
Maybe today was the day, Kristen thought grimly, as she followed Commander Hawkins down the hallway, close at his heels the way he liked it. Maybe this was the day when her tenuous position here would finally fall apart.
In the week since the rebels had blown a hole in the cafeteria, Kristen had already been questioned five separate times, by four separate people.
Senior Officer Kitterage was the one who had taken two turns with her, one of them soft, one with a more urgent, desperate tenor.
The other three were a smiling woman in a business suit (who had offered Kristen coffee, but not her name), a random security guard (who had done a terrible job of pretending to be a rebel to test her reaction), and Officer Brixton (who had demanded to know why he should accept his assignment as her new mentor, knowing how Officer Deacon had ended up).
None of them had been willing to clarify for Kristen exactly how Officer Deacon
had
ended up. The last time Kristen had seen her former mentor, she had still been drugged and handcuffed to that cold steel chair, babbling about how she'd helped someone called Artemis breach the Bureau servers.
Kristen wanted to believe that Officer Deacon was still in the building somewhere, locked behind one of its thousands of key card doors, but so far, she felt as cut off from her as she would have been if she'd taken Zach's offer, and run off with the rebels.
When questioned about the events of last week, Kristen's answers were always the same.
She knew nothing but what she had been told. Nothing about the rebels calling their members home, nothing about the server breach, nothing about whether the two events were related. She missed Officer Deacon and her fellow trainees who remained unaccounted for, but she was loyal to the Bureau, above any individual within it.
She was not aware of having done anything wrong, but if she had, she would gratefully accept punishment and correction for the future.
The truth and lies in this story flowed effortlessly in and out of each other as Kristen repeated them. So far, in spite of the persistence of the questions, she had not seen any hard evidence that anyone disbelieved her. She had not been disciplined, removed from duty, or even strapped in for the kind of interrogation she'd helped put Officer Deacon through, with drugs and vibrators and anal electrodes.
It would not have surprised her at all, however, if Commander Hawkins were the one to change that.
