Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
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- Apr 17, 2001
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This story contains graphic sexual content and some violence. It is intended only for mature readers. It is also a little longer than many of my other works of fiction. I started this on a whim, and two days later, it was finished. It flowed, it took on a life….and to be honest, I went to some really dark, yet interesting places on this one. So, please understand that this isn’t your usual wall-to-wall ticklefest….although the tickling scenes are pretty hot, if I do say so myself. It’s gritty, raw and for the first time in a long time, I really FELT something I was writing. At the time it was written, it was my first full story in almost two years, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
Or….at least parts of it.
There’s something about a back alley that just feels corrupt. You don’t bring a girl to one, you never happen to find anything of value, and it’s not like society’s Greatest and Brightest choose the locale for whatever it is they do that makes them both Bright and Great. Even so, this particular alley exudes something even the others can’t muster, with all of their filth and resident scum. The smell of ozone, that faint electrical taste in the air and the ungodly sounds coming from behind the pile of rubble that’s barely able to legitimately call itself a wall.
I remember the opening. Or…I think I do. I should. I know that much. Maybe there was a door there once, back in the days when doors in this sector actually meant something, but for now, a crumpled piece of corrugated metal hangs from some wire and echoes its clanging cacophony into the dead of night. I walk through, or rather under, and I see him. Again. It is again, isn’t it? Yes, I know him. Reaper….no…Ripper. Yes, that’s what this one calls himself, what those few who even talk about him call him. He eyes me with disdain, but there’s a small spark in his eye…the spark of one about to obtain something and it doesn’t matter from whom.
“Whattya got for me, Sulk?” he asks as he wipes coolant gel onto his pants.
I hate it when he uses that nickname, but what the fuck? Everyone else does. Those few left who even bother to talk to me. I guess it’s because that’s all I do. Sulk around what’s left of this city, not talking to anyone, barely acknowledging the presence of others. Why bother? They have nothing to offer me, I have nothing they’d even want to steal and sometimes just the thought of what I’ll see if I actually look into one of those scarred faces turns my stomach more than the stench.
“Eighteenth birthday,” I intone, with the voice of a man who’d made a hard decision, “I don’t need it anymore.”
He walks up to me, all shamble and cockiness, the air of a man who at least has a purpose in this world. “You sure about that, Sulk? Wasn’t that when you lost your virginity? Fuck, man…I’d hang onto that.”
I hesitate, but only for a moment. Who gives a shit? My virginity. Fuck, I’d lost more than that on that day, and to be honest, I could give a fuck about how it all happened anymore. My mother, once again high on packaging fumes, engine fluid or whatever else she could bake her brain on, laughing, cackling to be more precise, telling me about my birthday present. “Finally make a man out of you, you worthless piece of shit! HA Ha ha….”. The whore in the back alley (spiking my hatred for those places deep into my brain), the smell of her breath, the source of which was still in her teeth. Her fumbled grasp at my dick, my inability to even focus…although the passers-by occasionally stopped to at least notice. All over in about thirty seconds, of course. You wait that long in life, devoid of any female attention, or at least anything that could be honestly called human female attention, and it doesn’t matter who’s mouth is on your cock. It’s that one grasp on normality. At least for thirty seconds. I remembered her wiping her mouth with a grin and me catching that brief glimpse into her bag as she did. Her catching my gaze and bolting faster than anyone with a chunk out of her thigh should have been able. Running….running…..back to the burned-out car we called Home. Mom slumped over the seat…her necklace gone. The one thing of any value to her. The item in the whore’s bag. I didn’t even bother to take her out of the car. Give it a half-hour…someone will, and for what I just didn’t need to know….
I snap back to the here and now and stare Ripper down. I’m not in the mood for his shit. “Take it,” I say, and head toward the seat. Lights…..sounds….smells…and this feeling of nausea I can never quite get over. Not much else to tell, really. I never remember. Ripper says it’s better that way.
**********************************************
I walk back under the metal barrier, a chuckling sound behind me….and with a 100 Value credchip in my pocket. Food, yes. First thing. Not the most important, but up there. And…it gives me the excuse to go where I need to go. I wander (sulk?) down the backstreets until the way widens a bit, a few lights, then a few more…the sounds of the dying giving way to the sounds of those at least attempting to live. The center of the city somehow manages to continue functioning, but it’s a feral place. Base desires, baser instincts. Eat, sleep, get out of the hot rain and maybe fuck. If you’ve got the cred, that is.
I do. 80 left. I eat on the cheap. Who cares, I could die tomorrow (and that’s not even a figure of speech around here), and a full or empty stomach makes no difference. Approaching the center of the loudest of the mixed sounds and noises, I hesitate, slow down. Let them know I’m not a threat, I have a purpose. Under the canopy of the last remaining bar that actually has alcohol not cut with engine coolant, the first of the girls glances my way. The first of the clean ones anyway. Yes, I can afford several of the others, the ones glancing over and stumbling to get off their chairs….but I don’t give a fuck about them. I can do skank anytime I want on the other side of town. Hell, just grab ‘em, fuck ‘em, throw ‘em off a bridge, whatever, no one misses them. No, I’ll need every last cred of the 80 on me for what I’m after.
She sees me. The tall one. The blonde one. Her costume (uniform?) hugging her body, all straps and studs. The wide expanses of flesh showing through the criss-crossed patterns, promises of carnal delights. The laze pistol at her side promising something else. I’ll let her come to me. And she does. “Strut” would be the word, if there was a word for the way she moves, silky yet menacing. She stands before me and I fight my instinct to flee. I’m in dangerous territory and cred or not, streeties are often nothing more than target practice.
“Somethin’ you want, little man, or is this just the day you finally decided to die?” Her voice is harsh, but with an underlying current of sensuality. Not for me, of course…at least not yet. She stares down at me with red eyes. “Stick it in or beat it, asshole.” Her tone tells me the same thing as always…there’s no room or time for a flippant conversation. I fumble in my pocket for the credchip as she thrusts out her arm. The slot opens up, right across her wrist, ironically where my long-faded slash marks are. It was sometime after Mom died, and like most people here, I just thought a piece of glass across the wrist was better than staying alive. It didn’t work, of course, not deep enough, not enough nerve. I come back to the present, and quickly, hands shaking, place the chip in the offered slot.
She goes still for three seconds, and a vaguely familiar chime echoes lightly in the dank air. She stares at me with green eyes. “Awwww, honey…where you been, doll?” Her voice, this voice anyway, is liquid…dripping with desire and sensual intonations far too perfect for the Pure girls. She puts her arm around me, guides me down the street and toward the hotel she prefers. “Alicia’s been missing you, babe. I never get to play with fun people when you’re away….” Her voice guides me as much as her arm. It fills me with a thrill I never get elsewhere. It’s a beacon on a dark night that lasts forever.
We walk through the front door of the hotel, she holds her face close to the attendant…he might be human, hard to tell, and he waves her on. That chime again. Walking up the stairs, she lets me follow behind her, getting a nice view of her shapely ass, cheeks separated by an inch of leather strap. She works it for me, and I like it. She knows that. It’s what she does. The room is somewhat familiar, although they all do look the same. Not much to speak of for furniture, but I don’t need much. Before I’m even completely through the door, Alicia starts her routine. Arms around my shoulders, kissing me softly…pulling me backward. She lays back on the bed, an actual clean bed….they do have them for the working girls. The straps start to come off….but not falling to the floor. No, not this one. She’s ready for anything. The suit is made for work, and Alicia is very good at what she does. She lays her perfect body, all curves and unblemished skin, back on the bed and places her feet against the footposts, her arms over her head. The straps flow off of her and slide up her body, encircling her, snaking their way down her limbs. I’m jealous of their touch on her. Reaching the end of her limbs, the smartstraps wrap themselves around the posts, pulling, tightening until she’s immobile, tied to the bed in a luscious Y-shape. I don’t know how they work, I don’t do tech, and I really don’t give a fuck. The sight of her spread legs immediately beckons me, but I hold back. I have an hour. And I’m not going to waste it. God knows when the next one will come, if ever.
“You just gonna stare, or are you gonna come and get me?” she slyly smirks, a wink of her green eyes. She knows what I like, knows what I pay for and she’s very….very….good. “Just do me a favor, lover, ok?”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask without wonder as I slowly encircle the bed, eyeing every inch of her bound body, already writhing and twisting seductively.
“Don’t tickle me like last time, ok baby? Alicia’s really ticklish…and I’m all tied up and that would just be….mean….” She lets the word hang as she pouts her bottom lip. I bend down and place my lips next to her ear, feeling the power over her….the power over anything, fill me. This is the purpose of my existence, my one happiness. And I’m going to take full advantage of it.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with it, won’t you baby?” I run my tongue down her neck, the warmth absorbed into my taste buds, “Because I am going to tickle you…..” my lips down the sides of her heaving breast…. “everywhere. I’m going to tickle every square inch of your beautiful body and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”
She plays her part well, and in my mind, what’s left of it, I could care less what her motivation is. “Oh PLEASE!” she giggles, “Please don’t tickle me? Pleeeeease?”
Time’s wasting, asshole. You wanna play mind games with her all night, or do you want to do the one thing that brings you happiness? I war with myself, my desire to touch her in battle with my need to own her, even if only for a short time. In the end, the physical need wins out. It always does. I eye her sharply and place my fingertips over the soles of her feet and I hear the sharp intake of breath….see the cute green eyes and the pursed lips looking down at me, framed by those magnificent breasts.
“I think we’ll start……HERE!” I snap as I rake my nails down the length of her soles. The feel of her instep sucks me in as my fingers begin to scrabble a little, tickling lightly, then faster as her feet flutter.
“NNOOOO!!!! HAAHAAHAAPLEEEASSEE!!! OH GOD! Don’tDon’tDon’t…..NNooo—hooo-hooooaaiighh!”
I’m lost in the sight of her thrashing, buckling against the (leather? Kevlar?) bonds. Her body heaving as she struggles to escape the tickling. I love this…I really do. They tend to get pissed if you leave permanent marks or damage with the clean girls…and this is not a group to piss off. But, I didn’t care…I never intended to anyway. This is what I like. It keeps me safe, lets me have some semblance of control in this pathetic excuse for a world, and, for some reason I can’t remember, just turns me on. The feral, base instincts. Even in this place, they survive. I don’t have to fucking explain it to anyone, I don’t have to think about it. I just have to find the cred to indulge, and then life’s worth living for another week…month, whatever.
Awash in my own desires, my nails rake in hard against the tender skin as my tickling turns from playful to menacing. I grab her heel and tickle her arch. I bend her toes back and trail a single finger down the sole. All the while, Alicia is thrashing, laughing and being the best little girl money can buy. The others might just lay there or curse, but the synth girls always know what you like, and how to get you there.
“N-N-NOO!!! STAAHH-HA-HAAAPPP! Pleasepleaseplease! *gasp* Pleasestoptciklingmyfeetplease! I begyouI begyoupleeeeaaaseee!!!”
“You can beg all the fuck you want,” I bark, sinking further into my own depravity, “I really don’t give a shit. You just keep wiggling around for me and maybe I’ll be nice later! Got it? You be good now….”
“Oh-Oh-OOKKAAYY!!!! *gasp* I’ll begooo-ooo-d! I’ll be a HAAAHAAAHAAA…*gasp*….Good girl IpromiseIpromise…HEEEHEEHAAAPLEEEASSEEE????”
As she continues to plead, beg and laugh, I take my mouth to her feet. Grabbing her arch, I place my tongue over the tips of her toes. She starts to shake and her pitch increases. This only serves to feed my desire to torment this perfect girl. I suck her toes into my mouth, not only tasting her flesh, but tasting the high-pitched giggles that float in the air, the screams that howl from her lips and the begging, the constant begging for me to stop. My free hand tickles her other foot, feeling it thrash, unable to escape….tearing down the length with my nails, the pads of my fingers dancing over her sole. My tongue running up and down her foot….she’s screaming now, I can hear her, barely….my lust and depravity is coalescing into a furious sound in my ears…I’m lost….lost in the act of torturing someone I love…she’s everything….everything I want….she has to be mine somehow…I can take her way….tickle her all the time…I’mlostI’mlostI’mlost….it feels so good….so good…..sogoodsogoodsogood…
“Time’s up asshole!” I hear her other voice break through the barrier of my abandon. “Get the fuck off me!”
No! It can’t be…an hour already? FUCK! What the hell did I waste my time on? No, there has to be more, I can’t stop now. I can’t…I just….
I fall back as she gets up, the smartstraps uncoiling from the bedposts and sliding back up her limbs, rearranging themselves in that costume that accentuates every perfect curve of her. She gets off the bed, walks around me and glares down at me with red eyes. She’s off duty.
“You might wanna go out the back…I hear the Eaters are hanging around tonight. And don’t fuckin’ follow ME. I ain’t gonna save your ass.”
She walks out the door as I sit, head in my hands. It’s the same feeling. It hurts, it almost makes all of this not worth it anymore.
Yeah, right.
******************************************************
I walk down the alley, at least I think it’s the right one, and I have the strangest feeling. For some reason, I really do not like alleyways. But, I have to make this trip. It’s been days since I’ve felt human….I wonder if I even qualify for the term anymore. Fuck, do any of us anymore? I follow the sounds and smells more than the sights, they mean nothing to me. I need to find him….Roger….Reamer….Ripper! Yeah, that’s it, Ripper. There’s a dirty piece of metal hanging over an opening in what might have once been a wall and I know I’m in the right place.
He steps out of the shadows and stares at me, half concerned, half self-interest. “Whattya got this time, Sulk?”
Sulk…..oh yes. My nickname.
“And quit staring out into space like that, you’re freakin’ me out.” He walks around and wipes his hands on his pants, beckoning me over to a chair full of wires and a million other things that I have no fucking clue about.
“My mother.” I say.
“Ooohhh, Mom stuff. Lotsa people wantin’ to replace theirs with someone else’s. Wait…”
What now?
“Anything good in there? I can’t use it if it’s all street bullshit.”
I think back. Yes, there’s good stuff. Before the war. Before the collapse. Before the plague. Being held, loved…feeling like everything was going to be just fine.
“No, no, there’s plenty, she was old…pre-war things…..just take the early stuff. I mean, fuck….take it all, but we both know you can use the good AND the bad stuff. Like you’re the only masochist around here. Look, you want it or not?”
“Ok, ok…..relax. Whattya need 200 for anyway? Most aren’t diggin’ on ditchin’ their Moms, you know. I don’t get that every day.”
“None of your fucking business….just take it.”
It goes by quickly. I feel like I should know what’s coming, but I don’t. I’m standing there, just staring down at the 200 Value credchip. His insipant voice breaks into my haze….hey….hey…..
“HEY!” Wake up!” Ripper barks, holding my chin and for some reason looking into my eyes. “You better be careful, Sulk. I think you’re starting to get Holes. You start getting any big Holes, I ain’t dickin’ with you no more, got it?”
“I’m fine,” I manage to mumble, then get a better hold of myself. The world snaps back. “I’m FINE! Fuck off….”
“Dude, I mean it…this ain’t getting’ your nails done, you know. This shit don’t come out easy. Why do you think people pay so much for pre-war memories? You think anyone wants to live in this shithole with nothing to think about? But….they pay because it’s hard to do. If it was easy, I’d be broke, right, dumbfuck?”
“Yeah…I guess” I’m in no mood to argue with him, just let him ramble, I’ve got plans for once.
“You can’t just take the exact thing you’re after. Other shit comes with it. That’s why you’re on your last one next time…I mean it, Sulk. You’re getting’ Holes,” he taps my forehead like a petulant child, “Holes, dude.” He looks away with something almost like sadness. “I’m cutting you off after next time, bro. There’s others you can go to and knowing you, you probably will, but they’ll make a mess up there. I’m the best, babe, it’s why I even bother telling you. Ethics, see?….so just give it up, ok? I don’t give a shit what you do, but this city’s got enough brain-dead assholes running around.”
Leaving Reaper…..Ripper…behind to mumble on about holes or something, I head toward the center of the city. I’m sure he was saying something he valued as important, but I have other things on my mind. I walk down the back roads…they should be getting wider now….hmmmm….
Where the fuck is it? The buildings, what’s left of them, are familiar…but not. Ah shit, they all look the same anyway. I just took a wrong turn. Just follow the smells, man….follow the smells.
They hit my brain, snapping it awake. The sun’s going down, I must have wandered farther than I thought. All I can think about is her most of the time, that’s probably it. The familiar smell of ozone, coolant and something close to alcohol draws me in and I circle the area, my senses tight, danger sense on high. There it is….that little bar with the canopy.
And there she is. I sit on the bench just outside the cleared area and watch her, talking to her girls. All leather straps and tight skin, luscious lips and flowing blonde hair. Her breasts are bare, encircled by the straps which hold them up for the world to adore. She sees me…her familiar gait under her long legs as she….what’s the word I’m looking for?....struts over to me.
“You looking to get your little ass kicked? Get the fuck out of here before you get killed.”
I hold up the credchip, a gleam in my eye that I try very hard to masculinize.
“Stick it in or beat it, asshole….” She glares at me, red eyes boring into my skull.
I place the chip into the slot on her proffered wrist and once again I gaze into the green eyes that mean everything to me.
“Awwww, baby…where you been? Alicia’s been missing you…..”
She guides me down the street to a hotel. Is this the same place? Yeah, shit…of course. The familiarity of everything starts to coalesce as the game begins again. I have two hours for her this time, and I will NOT get lost in it. I won’t, fuck it! I’ll show her how good I can be to her, I’ll show her….STOP! Just knock it off. Yeah…I know why I’m here…and I can once again have the power I crave with the girl I love.
The ritual is routine enough to be familiar, but with enough little differences to keep things interesting. These breeds are the best, totally pre-war. Shit, what the world would be like if we hadn’t fucked it up and could just live with these wonderous creatures all the time. Well, no time to worry about that, I just have to take what I can get. It’s all the world gives you anymore. She dances for me, grinds herself into me and takes my tongue in her mouth, suck-starting my latent desire. And in the end, she takes her position.
“More this time.” I say, and just glare at her. The exchange is starting; for now, she’s mine and I’ll do with her what I fuck well please. “Tighter, bitch!” It feels good to talk this way to her…a being who would normally kill me for even thinking it. It only adds to the temporary power I have, making it even more powerful by its very impermanence.
“Oooohhh, baby….,” she purrs as she crawls onto the bed and lies back and splays her limbs out in a shape that I think she’s done before. “You know what gets Alicia’s gears going, don’t ya stud?”
The smartstraps unfold from her ripe body, and she adds to the effect by swirling her body around as they do their work. She gives me everything I’ve paid for, completely diving into the game she knows I need. It’s not her doing it anymore, it’s me. She lets me know that. She plays along to feed me.
“Oh shit!” she cries, “what’s going on? What are you doing to me? HELP!!!”
This model is very good.
I watch the straps do their work (her work?), listening to her howls of protest, acting the good little victim of a horrific kidnapping, a nubile innocent taken by a voracious predator. I feel alive, and not just the technically alive I usually feel. Completely and totally alive, instincts that no war, no plague or famine can erase from the human psyche. It’s my food…my air. I gaze at her, snarl at her, approach her with evil purpose.
“Wh-What are you gonna do to me? Pleeee-eeease…please let me go!” She whimpers and begs and it draws me fully into my own reality.
Climbing onto the bed, straddling her almost-too-perfect body, I look down at her, grabbing her face and holding it so I can bore my stare into her. I think for a fleeting moment what I must look like and force the thought out of my head. I know what I look like, and it ain’t pretty….scars, burns and a nice little keloid patch from spending to much time in the yellow areas. But now, in my world, I’m everything she wants….everything she fears. I speak evenly, my rapid breathing coming finally under my control.
“I’m gonna do everything to you, little girl….everything. But first,” I leer as I trail a finger from each hand down her long arms, slowly letting her feel my touch, sense my intentions, feverishly enjoying the sight of her first twitches, “I’m going to work you over….and this is going to be quite unpleasant for you, I’m afraid…”
“Oh God…..NO! PLEASE DON’T! Don’t tickle me, PLEASE? I beg you, pleeeeaaassssse?”
I ignore her cries, or at least part of me does. The other part soaks them in like a sponge, sucking the desperation out of every word. My fingers trail down, resting in the hollows of her armpits, the smooth skin beckoning me to touch, tickle….tease….own. I can’t imagine what sort of gleeful psychotic grin my face must be twisted into as I rake my nails over the soft patches, focusing on the look of her, the feel of her. Her breasts thrust upward as I tickle under her arms, watching the muscles tense against the bonds, helpless to stop me. I’m consumed by the sight of her breasts, their subtle flow and shake as the tickling forces her into a reaction of my choosing. My hands, almost of their own volition, drift down and tickle the sides of those perfect tits, stroking over the soft flesh, trailing slow circles around the swelling areolae and flicking over the tips of her pink nipples. They respond to my touch, and it excites me in a way nothing else does anymore. Her futile cries fill my ears, swirl around the inside of my head and fuel my passion, a continuous circuit of act, react, act, react.
“OOOhhh…OOOhhhhahahaaHAANOOO!!!! OHGODPLEEEASE!!!! Nononothatticklessomuch…*gasssssssp*….ooohgod..it tickles so BAD! PLEASESTOPPLEASE?”
My hands continue their torment of this one perfect thing in my life. I love her. I hate her. I know what it’ll be like when I’m done, and I have to make her pay for that. Yes…it’s her fault…not mine. She could be nice to me after….she could understand me…but she doesn’t. She’s a bitch….she’s a goddess…it all flows over me as I drop down to cup her ribcage, feeling each bone press against the skin, her bound position extending her body and accentuating her curves, shadows and female form. My fingertips knead over the ribs, pressing in and out, stroking a single rib and tickling its isolated length. Her giggles become cries, then howls as my ten fingers tickle harder, faster….watching her serpentine form writhe and struggle, knowing that every touch is driving her mad and that she cannot get away from me. I begin to grind my hips on her, my desire to torment mixing with my overwhelming need to fuck her squirming feminine body. My hands slide down further, tickling all the way, keeping her stimulated as they flatten out and lay across her smooth stomach, tapping my fingers on the drum-like tightness of her skin. I lean into get close to her face.
“You have such…a sexy….belly….”
“Oh shitNO!! PLEASE! OhGOD not there, please don’t tickle me there, please? Lemme go-ho-hoooo I don’t wanna be tickled anymore! No more I can’t take itAAAIIGGHHHHHNOHOHOHAAAAA!”
I interrupt her pathetic begging with a grab at her waist, my fingertips poking into the incurve of her midriff, feeling the muscles tense and massaging her, tickling her, tormenting her. Her howls increase in pitch, and it’s the first music I’ve heard in….I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s a symphony of erotic pleasure as her hips try to buck me off but only succeed in giving me a show, a sexy performance where we’re the stars and the ending is always a good one. I stiffen my fingers and press two into each one of her sides, rolling them around and pulling down until I’m hitting her hipbone, digging in and tickling mercilessly, not letting up, needing to see her wriggle, shake….needing to hear her sharp intakes of breath as she tries to beg, tries to formulate words. Moving inward, my fingers flutter over the expanse of her belly, down over her pubic area and around either side of her moistening pussy, beckoning me. I let a finger slide up the tight slit, her wetness triggering a primal and automatic response. I want to flood her with sensation, drive her over the edge, and as I hook my finger to tickle the end of her swelling clit, the dam bursts, spilling the reservoir of my primality and letting it flood the world I’ve created.
“OoohhhhhOOHHH!!!!,” she starts to cry, biting her lips and working her mouth around the escaping moans, giggles and pleas, “Pleaselemmegooooo….I can’t take it….PLEASEPLEASE? NO MOREGODDAMITNOOO!!!!!”
She thrashes at her bonds as she looks at me, wide eyes and quivering lips, following my flow as I massage her with one hand and fumble to shed my pants with the other. I can almost feel the thick glaze over my own eyes, the heavy wet felt dropping onto my brain, enfolding it, crushing it. I have to have her, take her, devour her….she’s everything. I love her. I hate her. She’s every sensation and emotion that’s real and strong. She’s my island in a sea of desperation and misery. I can’t separate my need to love her and my desire to torture her, it all becomes one stifling force. I place my hands firmly at her waist, guiding her hips up to receive me, pressing my hardness against her and pushing in…pushing….pushing….feeling her envelop me, suck me in, draw me back into the womb….safe….warm….happy. My hands start to tickle her sides, forcing her hips into motion, matching her rhythm.
“OhhhOOHHH!!!! GOD baby! Please—HAAHAAAHAAOOOHGODFUCKME!!! TICKLEMEFUCKME…I want you….*gasp*….NoooheeheehaaaanononoGODFUCK!! MMMnnnn…..MMMNNGGHHH!!!”
Her moans match the thrumming in my head, the pounding of my heart…the rising pressure in my stomach. Her body snakes in a pure erotic dance, her breast heaving and bobbing, her back arching, pulling me in. I tickle harder, drawing my strength from her quivering form, the warm wetness of my surrogate womb and her angelic voice. It’s been so long…..so long….the feeling is almost unfamiliar as the pressure flows over my stomach, into the very pit and spreads, builds….have I ever felt this way? Is this the first time? I don’t know…I can’t remember….I am a virgin now, this is too new, too special, too raw….I can’t….can’t…..
“OoohhhhGOOOD!!!!! YYYEESS!!!!!! PLEASEFUCKME! FUCKME!!!! AAIIIGGHHH!!!!! OHGOD…I’m Cumming…cumming…..CUMMING……AAAAHHHHHHFUCKFUCKFUCK!”
She’s an animal as she howls in delight, her orgasm matching mine, pulsing around me, sucking me in and drawing me down. My brain is gone, my mind is somewhere I’ll never find…..colors…sounds….smells…..touches….all one blend of raw sensation as I cum so hard it hurts. I collapse onto her still-bound form, heaving…happy for one small moment. In this slice of time, she’s mine….all mine………
*********************************************
I hate alleyways. I don’t know why. It’s just some sort of subconscious aversion that I’ll probably never be able to figure out. I might be lost, but I think I’m on the right track. I was told where to go, I know that…..it’s just so….foggy. The smells lead me on…ozone and coolant. A wall….a door….
A man. Dirty, tall…one eye.
“Holy shit,” he says, “Ripper said you might come around, and you’re just as messed-up as he said you’d be.”
Ripper? Shit, I can’t keep track of all these street names anymore, they mean nothing to me. “I got something I wanna sell.” I say, my eyes darting around and taking in the sights of the back room.
“Yeah, no shit. No other reason you’d be here, dude. Whattya got?”
“Sexual experiences. Good ones….synth girl.” The words fall off my tongue as a part of me tries to hold them back. I have so little…..I can’t let this go….but I have to. I need more…so much more.
The man’s eye widens and he pulls in close to me, his rancid breath in my face, but I don’t care. My mind is elsewhere, on the future. The past is meaningless anymore. “You fuckin’ serious, shithead? You better not be screwin’ with me, or I swear I’ll make….”
“It’s gonna cost,” I interrupt him “it’s good. Real good.”
“Yeah…some real fucked up shit in there, Ripper tells me,” he breaths heavily, then backs off, “Said it’s why he cut you off a few months ago, too. Told me I shouldn’t mess with you anymore. Fucked if there’s even anything left in there, mi amigo.”
Something in the base of my being, a strength long lost to me wells up. A direction. A purpose. I grab the man by the collar and pull him in close, ignoring the rotten breath and staring into his eye. “Kinky sex with a synth is worth a shitload and you fucking KNOW it. There’s gotta be maybe ten or twelve people can even afford to have that in their brains forever. You can keep ‘em for yourself for all I care.” I let that idea hang in the air, almost hearing the wheels in his little brain whirling, weighing the thoughts of enough money to buy a new eye or having an experience he’d never realize in his pathetic life firmly nestled in his memory cells.
“Ok, ok….settle down, Sulk.”
What the fuck did he call me? Was he swearing at me? I could never keep up with the lingo here.
“How much?” he asks.
“500.” I reply, steadily holding his incredulous gaze.
“That’s it? Damn, dude…you are gone!”
“No, that’s not IT,” I spit the word at him, “Worth ten times more than that….but I need something else, too….that’s why the discount…..”
“What else?” he asks, eyeing me warily.
“I need some tech. I hear you know people.” I did hear that…..right?
“Yeah…I got connections. What exactly is it you want, or do I even wanna know?”
I back away and fix him with a glare that says I’m not messing around and don’t even make me say it twice I’m dead serious thankyouverymuch.
“Smartsuit override.”
*************************************************
I walk down the back roads, past buildings I don’t recognize, or maybe the earth is finally shifting, preparing to swallow up this shithole of a city and reforming the buildings into even more decrepit piles. I don’t know where I’m going…but I feel the need to get there. As I walk, I keep my head down, not drawing attention, avoiding the faces of those still around….just another sad soul lost…wandering…longing…..sulking.
I look down into my hand at the ratty piece of paper that tells me where to go. I don’t remember writing it, but it’s in my own hand, and in the back of mind, it’s the most important piece of paper left in the world. As I walk, I find myself staring at my hand and the long, ragged scar across my wrist. When the hell did I get that? Fuck, you get hurt every damn day around here, and I’m surprised I have an ugly scar? I put it out of mind as I meander, shamble….and the smells hit my nose, traveling up to my brain. Ozone….coolant….alcohol. They still make that? Here? Hmmm……
The buzzing sounds fill the street and I see the small outdoor bar that the paper described. Canopy….stools….girls. I sit on a bench where the road is cleared and watch. I know what to look for, I wrote it down. Minutes pass, then I see her. It has to be her. She flows around the others, drawing all eyes to her, her blonde hair swirling behind her, cascading down her back and falling just shy of her heart-shaped ass, hugged by leather straps encircling her flesh. Her breasts jut out, held up by the same straps, her skin inviting, perfect. She sees me….and walks over, red eyes boring into me as I stand.
“You lookin’ for something, dickhead?” she sneers.
I say nothing, there’s nothing to say. I hold up a 200 Value credchip. She snakes a long arm out at me and for a moment I wonder what she’s going to do. I stare down as a small slot opens up in her wrist. “Stick it in or beat it, asshole!”
I hate the way her voice sounds, and I wonder why I’m doing this. There’s this….thing in the back of my mind, the center of my heart, that feels drawn to her, some crazy emotion that tugs at my soul in a way that goes beyond attraction. It’s like I know her. I slide the chip in and she cocks her head with a distinct chime, her green eyes slitting, sensual. Her voice takes on a liquid smoothness.
“Oh, baby, where have you been? Alicia’s been missing you….”
Alicia. Her name is Alicia. I like the sound of the name.
She takes me by the arm and leads me across the street to some dingy looking building that might once have been a nice hotel. We walk through the door and she says something to the smelly man at the desk. She turns to walk up the stairs, looks over her shoulder and beckons me to follow. I motion to her to get going, I’ll be right there. Her shapely ass swishes up the stairs as she shrugs her shoulders. Standing in the lobby of the dark building, feeling around in my coat pocket. There’s the deskman. Some sort of shape curled into the corner. A woman sitting on a small chair on the opposite side. I grip my hands around the prize that 300 creds bought….bringing the laze pistol out and wordlessly aiming at the deskman’s head. Pressing the trig. Hearing the woman on the seat try to get up and then leveling the laze at her and pressing again, and once more at the huddled shape in the corner. I don’t even feel a muscle in my face twitch. Now there’s no one here….good. I need time, all that I can get. No one would care, bodies litter these streets, these blasted buildings. They move on….I always do.
I climb the stairs and enter the room. I can smell her perfume and it guides me. She’s there, beckoning me….her body all curves and straps. She fills my field of vision as it tightens into a small circle. Time flows, almost without me. There’s a familiarity to it, a comfortable something that leads me on, following her, touching her as she grinds against me, tracking her sexy body as it moves toward the bed and lays back.
“There’s something I’d like to do,” I start, trying to come off casual, “I think you’ll like it. It’ll be…”
“Oh, Alicia knows what you like, darling…she knows real well, baby….”
I’m caught a little off-guard. I thought a girl like this would resist, that I’d have to use whatever I could to convince her I was alright. Was she reading my mind? Did I come across that way? Or was this why I was drawn to this one in the first place?
“Naughty boy wants to tie me up, doesn’t he….you wanna tickle poor ‘lil Alicia, don’t you, baby?” she purrs as she lies back.
Something takes over. Yes! I have it, it’s the sole bright point of light in my brain. I know what I need to do, my purpose for being here…the act that’s going to make this whole stinking life…the whole miasma of corrupted brain images and dark nightmares all worth it. I center….draw myself in.
“Yes…I do. I want you tied up tight….very tight…..”
She giggles and lies back on the bed, her arms splaying out as her legs follow suit. The straps of her costume slide off her body, coiling down her limbs and searching for the bedposts. It all forms into a hard impression in my mind, a focus, a will. I reach into my pocket and grab hold of the thing I’d been carrying with me, the one possession that means more to me than anything. Well, almost anything….
As the straps coil and bind her to the four corners of the bedframe, I approach, staring into her eyes and catch her gaze. “More,” I say…in a daze… “I want you tied up….more….” I hold the small device up, point it at her and press the solitary button. I watch as her green eyes widen and her head rises off the bed. The straps move quickly, responding to whatever they respond to when triggered by some little blue box. I don’t know. I really don’t know tech. But, the results are wonderful. The straps elongate, flow over her body, working their way under the thin mattress, looping around any purchase they can find on the framework underneath….wrapping her wrists, her ankles….strapping her thighs and biceps down hard…I can see her skin bulge ever-so-slightly around the edges of the straps as they tighten. Two snake up her neck….criss-crossing until they find their destination. One pins her forehead firmly to the bed while the other forces its way into her mouth, filling it, parting her jaws and gagging her thoroughly.
I’ll say one thing about synth girls. The are the best. The Bots are fun, but it’s all programming. Synths can feel….can react. Yes, it’s all activated and controlled by their duty status, but it’s more than just programming. I remember (I think) being told they were human in a way…something about clones…attachments, upgrades…I was young (was I young once?) and they were new. I was amazed at the thought. At least, something tells me I was. I don’t know how they work…..I don’t know tech.
This one shows fear. Real fear. Good. Something went outside of her control. She reacts. And I do as well. Everything falls away, everything that’s left…any semblance of civility, any hope for a future. It’s here and now. My primal instincts, my base desires….all that matters to me. I’m going to make this crappy life worth something, feel love, feel power….just feel…something…, before it’s taken away. I’m calm….surprisingly so. Focused. Controlled. I circle the bed holding my gorgeous girl captive. And she is mine. All mine. No one’s coming….no one cares. I enjoy the sight of her breathing, the sucking sound through her dainty nose….the heaving of her chest, those beautifully perfect breasts rising and falling, the wiggle of her hips. My voice drops and it’s not even my own I hear. It’s another’s….someone I might have been…once.
“Are you comfortable, baby?” I spit the word out, “feeling a little helpless? We are going to have so much fun…..for so long…..and you’re all mine….”
She mews into the gag, her eyes wide, the cords in her neck straining to lift her head, unable. I settle down by her captive feet, twitching and thrashing. I take in the sight of my fingers moving slowly toward them, knowing she can’t see me from that angle, so I tease her…it feels good.
“I’m going to….tickle…your ……feet…..” I slightly sing as she screams into the thick strap forced into her mouth. I draw out the moment, waiting for that first contact, savoring it. My fingers touch and it’s electric. Her smooth soles dance as I tickle along their length, stroking up and down as her feet thrash. I curl my fingers, scrabble over her ticklish soles, scrape my nails along the nerves. I feel it almost as much as I know she does. I internalize the sensation of what it must feel like to be helplessly bound and tickled mercilessly…almost feeling pity, but turning it into motivation. I want her to feel this, suffer from it. I hate her. I love her. She is everything. It’s my reality, my world. It’s just me…and her. I grab one of her feet, slowly pull her toes back and run down the length of her sole with my fingertips over and over, feeling the fight in her toes, the attempt to twist her ankle. I hold tight, locking on. The force of my grip counterpoints the light touch, searing into my brain the effect of touching her so lightly, yet getting such a violent reaction. One little tickle, and the object of my desire is squealing like a little girl. I quicken the pace as she screams….
I have to tear myself away from tickling her trapped feet. There’s so much more of her, and all mine. I walk to the side of the bed, my hand keeping contact with her skin, letting her know I’m still there….I’ll always be there. Her eyes dart at me, pleading, her lips curling around the gag, her sounds pitiful…wonderful….sexual to the Nth degree.
“You are soooo sexy,” I tease as I trail a finger down her body, her long flank exposed, helpless, unable to move against whatever I want to do to any point on her naked flesh, “and soooo ticklish. You DO like being tickled don’t you?” I lean in a little closer to her face, “Yes…you do…you just love to be tickled, I can see it in your eyes….feel it coming off of you. It’s ok, baby…I’m here…I’ll take care of you,” I let a single finger start at her exposed armpit, press in and trail down her entire length, feeling her peal of muffled laughter, taunting her all along the way, “I’ll make sure you get what you want. I’m going to tickle you….forever….over and over….just the way you like.”
“MMNNPPHH!!!! MMNNGGG!!! MMMGGRRRRN!!!!”
The sound of her captured pleas focuses me, it’s timeless. There is no future, only now. Only this body and my desire to torment it and break the mind of she who used to own it. I tickle back up the side of her body, feeling the high point of her hip, the smooth incurve of her waist, the rolling ridges of her ribcage, the deep hollow of her armpit. Over and over, I trail the finger back and forth, up and down…..adding more, tickling faster, wider…covering more naked skin….absorbing the way she fights, the way her muscles contract, involuntarily twitching and struggling against the tickling, trying so desperately to pull away…but no. I have her…..spread and bound…all naked ticklish skin and pure sexual energy. I pull myself up onto the bed and attack both sides, tickling under arms as she mews, tickling into her ribs as she moans, tickling her sides as she screams. I like her sides, they’re so deliciously smooth, so utterly ticklish, so very female and full of life and promise of carnal delights….digging into her sides, clawing at her, pressing in hard and circling the sensitive nerves with my fingertips….forcing her to shake her hips, exciting me in a way I never thought possible even in my darkest, most wonderful dreams.
“God, I love this,” I hear myself saying, but something else has taken over, forcing the words from my mouth so I can focus on tickling my blonde captive, “I love tickling you….I love the way your body moves, the way you scream…go ahead…scream for me….SCREAM….. I tickle her harder, more forcefully, poking fingertips into her sides, over her hipbones, fluttering over her inner thighs, teasing her pussy, pressing against her clit, forcing the inevitable moistness on her, working her….
It all gets lost…..it’s hours….days…..I don’t know…..I don’t care. There’s no world outside, no pain, no disease, no desperation….just me and this creature of sex and beauty, all mine…..it goes on…and on….tickling her….fucking her….tickling her….fucking her…..watching her eyes go red and pulling with everything she has, biting into the cruel gag….seeing the threat in her eyes and not caring…barely noticing the change…..just tickling her more….torturing her……how did we get here?.....tickling her….why do I like this?.....fucking her……where do I have to be later?....tickling her….why can’t I remember?.....fucking….tickling…..what’s outside this room?....tickling….fucking….tickling……
************************************************************
The pain is a little better today. Huddled against what used to be a wall, I curl my arms around my leg…the one that I can bend. The broken bone is setting at an ugly angle, and my arms hurt when I hug myself. But, it’s getting better. I can’t remember how it happened. Anything can happen in this shithole….and I’m willing to bet I got mugged and beaten, enough to make me lose my memory of the whole thing. How did I escape? Do I care? Somebody must have given me some sort of care. The cuts on me haven’t boiled over with infection, so I must have some….yes…there in my pocket, a small vial with some pills…where did they come from? I force myself up, holding the 20 value credchip I have left tight in my palm. I need some food. Yes, some food. Where did I get 20 creds from? A fleeting memory….a door…no…a piece of metal….an alleyway. I hate alleyways…I think…yes, I do. There’s an aversion there….I put it out of my mind. It flees….but parts linger…..a man….R---…Roger…no….Richard, yes….Richard. Standing over me….saying he…what?....found me? In a hole? No….maybe….oh, it’s not important….it was something to do with holes. That’s it. I must have been mugged and dumped in a hole. So, why did he take care of me? Do I even know him? Shit, my head hurts. I hear a few words reverberate in my head. ….found you….that stupid bitch….shot her…..medicine….hurt……gonna have to sell it……need medicine….. STOP!
Just stop….
I continue walking, trying to stay straight, trying to show some purpose, show no weakness, don’t be a target….don’t bow your head…..don’t ….what’s the word I’m looking for…..don’t sulk. I follow the smells….is that food? Around here? Maybe….I follow further…the smell intensifies….no….it’s ozone….coolant? …..couldn’t be alcohol. Why did I come this way? Something draws me…something I can’t place. The street opens up and I find a small bench. The sounds attract my gaze. Hmmm…looks like a bar maybe. Could they have food? They have girls, I can see that. Nice ones, a few of them anyway. My gaze lingers on one as she steps out of the shadows….my heart skips a beat. I see real beauty for once….it surprises me, especially here. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back, falling over her heart-shaped ass, surrounded in leather straps, naked skin poking through, her bare breasts high. She…..sees me? Me? Why would she look at me? I’m nothing. I hear her voice, but it’s not like the rest of her….it’s angry…harsh…I don’t like it. Do I? There’s something under it….isn’t there? She approaches, beckoning two others to follow.
“Holy shit…it’s him! I don’t fucking believe it!”
No, she wasn’t talking about me. No one knows me here. But, I sense trouble and lower my head, lifting my eyes enough to take in her form, sexual in its negative energy. I wish I could have a girl like that…..wait….they’re coming toward me! Why?
“You’re mine asshole! And your friend ain’t gonna save you this time!”
What? She couldn’t be speaking to me. Just let her pass, go on by and fuck with whoever she’s mad at….happens all the time. At least I can watch. She is perfect….well, except for that ugly burn mark on her hip….is that a laze mark? Damn, I didn’t know you could get those anymore…..didn’t I have one once…..no, when would I ever have one? Like I could afford it. Wait…..she has one.
And she stops….pointing it….at me? No…..not me. I don’t know…I don’t care. Just let things happen, don’t get involved. Happens all the time. At least I’ll get to watch her fight, maybe. It turns me on, in a way. She’s gorgeous….I’m lost in the way she looks…she’s so beautiful…..so beautiful…..I feel a stir in my heart, something in the back of my mind, blocking out the scream in my head to run…..she is pointing it at me…..I don’t care….she’s so beautiful…..all other thoughts pushed away…..all I can think…all I can feel….I wonder what she smells like? I wonder what she feels like?
I wonder what it would be like to touch her?
Or….at least parts of it.
For Sale; Slightly Used
There’s something about a back alley that just feels corrupt. You don’t bring a girl to one, you never happen to find anything of value, and it’s not like society’s Greatest and Brightest choose the locale for whatever it is they do that makes them both Bright and Great. Even so, this particular alley exudes something even the others can’t muster, with all of their filth and resident scum. The smell of ozone, that faint electrical taste in the air and the ungodly sounds coming from behind the pile of rubble that’s barely able to legitimately call itself a wall.
I remember the opening. Or…I think I do. I should. I know that much. Maybe there was a door there once, back in the days when doors in this sector actually meant something, but for now, a crumpled piece of corrugated metal hangs from some wire and echoes its clanging cacophony into the dead of night. I walk through, or rather under, and I see him. Again. It is again, isn’t it? Yes, I know him. Reaper….no…Ripper. Yes, that’s what this one calls himself, what those few who even talk about him call him. He eyes me with disdain, but there’s a small spark in his eye…the spark of one about to obtain something and it doesn’t matter from whom.
“Whattya got for me, Sulk?” he asks as he wipes coolant gel onto his pants.
I hate it when he uses that nickname, but what the fuck? Everyone else does. Those few left who even bother to talk to me. I guess it’s because that’s all I do. Sulk around what’s left of this city, not talking to anyone, barely acknowledging the presence of others. Why bother? They have nothing to offer me, I have nothing they’d even want to steal and sometimes just the thought of what I’ll see if I actually look into one of those scarred faces turns my stomach more than the stench.
“Eighteenth birthday,” I intone, with the voice of a man who’d made a hard decision, “I don’t need it anymore.”
He walks up to me, all shamble and cockiness, the air of a man who at least has a purpose in this world. “You sure about that, Sulk? Wasn’t that when you lost your virginity? Fuck, man…I’d hang onto that.”
I hesitate, but only for a moment. Who gives a shit? My virginity. Fuck, I’d lost more than that on that day, and to be honest, I could give a fuck about how it all happened anymore. My mother, once again high on packaging fumes, engine fluid or whatever else she could bake her brain on, laughing, cackling to be more precise, telling me about my birthday present. “Finally make a man out of you, you worthless piece of shit! HA Ha ha….”. The whore in the back alley (spiking my hatred for those places deep into my brain), the smell of her breath, the source of which was still in her teeth. Her fumbled grasp at my dick, my inability to even focus…although the passers-by occasionally stopped to at least notice. All over in about thirty seconds, of course. You wait that long in life, devoid of any female attention, or at least anything that could be honestly called human female attention, and it doesn’t matter who’s mouth is on your cock. It’s that one grasp on normality. At least for thirty seconds. I remembered her wiping her mouth with a grin and me catching that brief glimpse into her bag as she did. Her catching my gaze and bolting faster than anyone with a chunk out of her thigh should have been able. Running….running…..back to the burned-out car we called Home. Mom slumped over the seat…her necklace gone. The one thing of any value to her. The item in the whore’s bag. I didn’t even bother to take her out of the car. Give it a half-hour…someone will, and for what I just didn’t need to know….
I snap back to the here and now and stare Ripper down. I’m not in the mood for his shit. “Take it,” I say, and head toward the seat. Lights…..sounds….smells…and this feeling of nausea I can never quite get over. Not much else to tell, really. I never remember. Ripper says it’s better that way.
**********************************************
I walk back under the metal barrier, a chuckling sound behind me….and with a 100 Value credchip in my pocket. Food, yes. First thing. Not the most important, but up there. And…it gives me the excuse to go where I need to go. I wander (sulk?) down the backstreets until the way widens a bit, a few lights, then a few more…the sounds of the dying giving way to the sounds of those at least attempting to live. The center of the city somehow manages to continue functioning, but it’s a feral place. Base desires, baser instincts. Eat, sleep, get out of the hot rain and maybe fuck. If you’ve got the cred, that is.
I do. 80 left. I eat on the cheap. Who cares, I could die tomorrow (and that’s not even a figure of speech around here), and a full or empty stomach makes no difference. Approaching the center of the loudest of the mixed sounds and noises, I hesitate, slow down. Let them know I’m not a threat, I have a purpose. Under the canopy of the last remaining bar that actually has alcohol not cut with engine coolant, the first of the girls glances my way. The first of the clean ones anyway. Yes, I can afford several of the others, the ones glancing over and stumbling to get off their chairs….but I don’t give a fuck about them. I can do skank anytime I want on the other side of town. Hell, just grab ‘em, fuck ‘em, throw ‘em off a bridge, whatever, no one misses them. No, I’ll need every last cred of the 80 on me for what I’m after.
She sees me. The tall one. The blonde one. Her costume (uniform?) hugging her body, all straps and studs. The wide expanses of flesh showing through the criss-crossed patterns, promises of carnal delights. The laze pistol at her side promising something else. I’ll let her come to me. And she does. “Strut” would be the word, if there was a word for the way she moves, silky yet menacing. She stands before me and I fight my instinct to flee. I’m in dangerous territory and cred or not, streeties are often nothing more than target practice.
“Somethin’ you want, little man, or is this just the day you finally decided to die?” Her voice is harsh, but with an underlying current of sensuality. Not for me, of course…at least not yet. She stares down at me with red eyes. “Stick it in or beat it, asshole.” Her tone tells me the same thing as always…there’s no room or time for a flippant conversation. I fumble in my pocket for the credchip as she thrusts out her arm. The slot opens up, right across her wrist, ironically where my long-faded slash marks are. It was sometime after Mom died, and like most people here, I just thought a piece of glass across the wrist was better than staying alive. It didn’t work, of course, not deep enough, not enough nerve. I come back to the present, and quickly, hands shaking, place the chip in the offered slot.
She goes still for three seconds, and a vaguely familiar chime echoes lightly in the dank air. She stares at me with green eyes. “Awwww, honey…where you been, doll?” Her voice, this voice anyway, is liquid…dripping with desire and sensual intonations far too perfect for the Pure girls. She puts her arm around me, guides me down the street and toward the hotel she prefers. “Alicia’s been missing you, babe. I never get to play with fun people when you’re away….” Her voice guides me as much as her arm. It fills me with a thrill I never get elsewhere. It’s a beacon on a dark night that lasts forever.
We walk through the front door of the hotel, she holds her face close to the attendant…he might be human, hard to tell, and he waves her on. That chime again. Walking up the stairs, she lets me follow behind her, getting a nice view of her shapely ass, cheeks separated by an inch of leather strap. She works it for me, and I like it. She knows that. It’s what she does. The room is somewhat familiar, although they all do look the same. Not much to speak of for furniture, but I don’t need much. Before I’m even completely through the door, Alicia starts her routine. Arms around my shoulders, kissing me softly…pulling me backward. She lays back on the bed, an actual clean bed….they do have them for the working girls. The straps start to come off….but not falling to the floor. No, not this one. She’s ready for anything. The suit is made for work, and Alicia is very good at what she does. She lays her perfect body, all curves and unblemished skin, back on the bed and places her feet against the footposts, her arms over her head. The straps flow off of her and slide up her body, encircling her, snaking their way down her limbs. I’m jealous of their touch on her. Reaching the end of her limbs, the smartstraps wrap themselves around the posts, pulling, tightening until she’s immobile, tied to the bed in a luscious Y-shape. I don’t know how they work, I don’t do tech, and I really don’t give a fuck. The sight of her spread legs immediately beckons me, but I hold back. I have an hour. And I’m not going to waste it. God knows when the next one will come, if ever.
“You just gonna stare, or are you gonna come and get me?” she slyly smirks, a wink of her green eyes. She knows what I like, knows what I pay for and she’s very….very….good. “Just do me a favor, lover, ok?”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask without wonder as I slowly encircle the bed, eyeing every inch of her bound body, already writhing and twisting seductively.
“Don’t tickle me like last time, ok baby? Alicia’s really ticklish…and I’m all tied up and that would just be….mean….” She lets the word hang as she pouts her bottom lip. I bend down and place my lips next to her ear, feeling the power over her….the power over anything, fill me. This is the purpose of my existence, my one happiness. And I’m going to take full advantage of it.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with it, won’t you baby?” I run my tongue down her neck, the warmth absorbed into my taste buds, “Because I am going to tickle you…..” my lips down the sides of her heaving breast…. “everywhere. I’m going to tickle every square inch of your beautiful body and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”
She plays her part well, and in my mind, what’s left of it, I could care less what her motivation is. “Oh PLEASE!” she giggles, “Please don’t tickle me? Pleeeeease?”
Time’s wasting, asshole. You wanna play mind games with her all night, or do you want to do the one thing that brings you happiness? I war with myself, my desire to touch her in battle with my need to own her, even if only for a short time. In the end, the physical need wins out. It always does. I eye her sharply and place my fingertips over the soles of her feet and I hear the sharp intake of breath….see the cute green eyes and the pursed lips looking down at me, framed by those magnificent breasts.
“I think we’ll start……HERE!” I snap as I rake my nails down the length of her soles. The feel of her instep sucks me in as my fingers begin to scrabble a little, tickling lightly, then faster as her feet flutter.
“NNOOOO!!!! HAAHAAHAAPLEEEASSEE!!! OH GOD! Don’tDon’tDon’t…..NNooo—hooo-hooooaaiighh!”
I’m lost in the sight of her thrashing, buckling against the (leather? Kevlar?) bonds. Her body heaving as she struggles to escape the tickling. I love this…I really do. They tend to get pissed if you leave permanent marks or damage with the clean girls…and this is not a group to piss off. But, I didn’t care…I never intended to anyway. This is what I like. It keeps me safe, lets me have some semblance of control in this pathetic excuse for a world, and, for some reason I can’t remember, just turns me on. The feral, base instincts. Even in this place, they survive. I don’t have to fucking explain it to anyone, I don’t have to think about it. I just have to find the cred to indulge, and then life’s worth living for another week…month, whatever.
Awash in my own desires, my nails rake in hard against the tender skin as my tickling turns from playful to menacing. I grab her heel and tickle her arch. I bend her toes back and trail a single finger down the sole. All the while, Alicia is thrashing, laughing and being the best little girl money can buy. The others might just lay there or curse, but the synth girls always know what you like, and how to get you there.
“N-N-NOO!!! STAAHH-HA-HAAAPPP! Pleasepleaseplease! *gasp* Pleasestoptciklingmyfeetplease! I begyouI begyoupleeeeaaaseee!!!”
“You can beg all the fuck you want,” I bark, sinking further into my own depravity, “I really don’t give a shit. You just keep wiggling around for me and maybe I’ll be nice later! Got it? You be good now….”
“Oh-Oh-OOKKAAYY!!!! *gasp* I’ll begooo-ooo-d! I’ll be a HAAAHAAAHAAA…*gasp*….Good girl IpromiseIpromise…HEEEHEEHAAAPLEEEASSEEE????”
As she continues to plead, beg and laugh, I take my mouth to her feet. Grabbing her arch, I place my tongue over the tips of her toes. She starts to shake and her pitch increases. This only serves to feed my desire to torment this perfect girl. I suck her toes into my mouth, not only tasting her flesh, but tasting the high-pitched giggles that float in the air, the screams that howl from her lips and the begging, the constant begging for me to stop. My free hand tickles her other foot, feeling it thrash, unable to escape….tearing down the length with my nails, the pads of my fingers dancing over her sole. My tongue running up and down her foot….she’s screaming now, I can hear her, barely….my lust and depravity is coalescing into a furious sound in my ears…I’m lost….lost in the act of torturing someone I love…she’s everything….everything I want….she has to be mine somehow…I can take her way….tickle her all the time…I’mlostI’mlostI’mlost….it feels so good….so good…..sogoodsogoodsogood…
“Time’s up asshole!” I hear her other voice break through the barrier of my abandon. “Get the fuck off me!”
No! It can’t be…an hour already? FUCK! What the hell did I waste my time on? No, there has to be more, I can’t stop now. I can’t…I just….
I fall back as she gets up, the smartstraps uncoiling from the bedposts and sliding back up her limbs, rearranging themselves in that costume that accentuates every perfect curve of her. She gets off the bed, walks around me and glares down at me with red eyes. She’s off duty.
“You might wanna go out the back…I hear the Eaters are hanging around tonight. And don’t fuckin’ follow ME. I ain’t gonna save your ass.”
She walks out the door as I sit, head in my hands. It’s the same feeling. It hurts, it almost makes all of this not worth it anymore.
Yeah, right.
******************************************************
I walk down the alley, at least I think it’s the right one, and I have the strangest feeling. For some reason, I really do not like alleyways. But, I have to make this trip. It’s been days since I’ve felt human….I wonder if I even qualify for the term anymore. Fuck, do any of us anymore? I follow the sounds and smells more than the sights, they mean nothing to me. I need to find him….Roger….Reamer….Ripper! Yeah, that’s it, Ripper. There’s a dirty piece of metal hanging over an opening in what might have once been a wall and I know I’m in the right place.
He steps out of the shadows and stares at me, half concerned, half self-interest. “Whattya got this time, Sulk?”
Sulk…..oh yes. My nickname.
“And quit staring out into space like that, you’re freakin’ me out.” He walks around and wipes his hands on his pants, beckoning me over to a chair full of wires and a million other things that I have no fucking clue about.
“My mother.” I say.
“Ooohhh, Mom stuff. Lotsa people wantin’ to replace theirs with someone else’s. Wait…”
What now?
“Anything good in there? I can’t use it if it’s all street bullshit.”
I think back. Yes, there’s good stuff. Before the war. Before the collapse. Before the plague. Being held, loved…feeling like everything was going to be just fine.
“No, no, there’s plenty, she was old…pre-war things…..just take the early stuff. I mean, fuck….take it all, but we both know you can use the good AND the bad stuff. Like you’re the only masochist around here. Look, you want it or not?”
“Ok, ok…..relax. Whattya need 200 for anyway? Most aren’t diggin’ on ditchin’ their Moms, you know. I don’t get that every day.”
“None of your fucking business….just take it.”
It goes by quickly. I feel like I should know what’s coming, but I don’t. I’m standing there, just staring down at the 200 Value credchip. His insipant voice breaks into my haze….hey….hey…..
“HEY!” Wake up!” Ripper barks, holding my chin and for some reason looking into my eyes. “You better be careful, Sulk. I think you’re starting to get Holes. You start getting any big Holes, I ain’t dickin’ with you no more, got it?”
“I’m fine,” I manage to mumble, then get a better hold of myself. The world snaps back. “I’m FINE! Fuck off….”
“Dude, I mean it…this ain’t getting’ your nails done, you know. This shit don’t come out easy. Why do you think people pay so much for pre-war memories? You think anyone wants to live in this shithole with nothing to think about? But….they pay because it’s hard to do. If it was easy, I’d be broke, right, dumbfuck?”
“Yeah…I guess” I’m in no mood to argue with him, just let him ramble, I’ve got plans for once.
“You can’t just take the exact thing you’re after. Other shit comes with it. That’s why you’re on your last one next time…I mean it, Sulk. You’re getting’ Holes,” he taps my forehead like a petulant child, “Holes, dude.” He looks away with something almost like sadness. “I’m cutting you off after next time, bro. There’s others you can go to and knowing you, you probably will, but they’ll make a mess up there. I’m the best, babe, it’s why I even bother telling you. Ethics, see?….so just give it up, ok? I don’t give a shit what you do, but this city’s got enough brain-dead assholes running around.”
Leaving Reaper…..Ripper…behind to mumble on about holes or something, I head toward the center of the city. I’m sure he was saying something he valued as important, but I have other things on my mind. I walk down the back roads…they should be getting wider now….hmmmm….
Where the fuck is it? The buildings, what’s left of them, are familiar…but not. Ah shit, they all look the same anyway. I just took a wrong turn. Just follow the smells, man….follow the smells.
They hit my brain, snapping it awake. The sun’s going down, I must have wandered farther than I thought. All I can think about is her most of the time, that’s probably it. The familiar smell of ozone, coolant and something close to alcohol draws me in and I circle the area, my senses tight, danger sense on high. There it is….that little bar with the canopy.
And there she is. I sit on the bench just outside the cleared area and watch her, talking to her girls. All leather straps and tight skin, luscious lips and flowing blonde hair. Her breasts are bare, encircled by the straps which hold them up for the world to adore. She sees me…her familiar gait under her long legs as she….what’s the word I’m looking for?....struts over to me.
“You looking to get your little ass kicked? Get the fuck out of here before you get killed.”
I hold up the credchip, a gleam in my eye that I try very hard to masculinize.
“Stick it in or beat it, asshole….” She glares at me, red eyes boring into my skull.
I place the chip into the slot on her proffered wrist and once again I gaze into the green eyes that mean everything to me.
“Awwww, baby…where you been? Alicia’s been missing you…..”
She guides me down the street to a hotel. Is this the same place? Yeah, shit…of course. The familiarity of everything starts to coalesce as the game begins again. I have two hours for her this time, and I will NOT get lost in it. I won’t, fuck it! I’ll show her how good I can be to her, I’ll show her….STOP! Just knock it off. Yeah…I know why I’m here…and I can once again have the power I crave with the girl I love.
The ritual is routine enough to be familiar, but with enough little differences to keep things interesting. These breeds are the best, totally pre-war. Shit, what the world would be like if we hadn’t fucked it up and could just live with these wonderous creatures all the time. Well, no time to worry about that, I just have to take what I can get. It’s all the world gives you anymore. She dances for me, grinds herself into me and takes my tongue in her mouth, suck-starting my latent desire. And in the end, she takes her position.
“More this time.” I say, and just glare at her. The exchange is starting; for now, she’s mine and I’ll do with her what I fuck well please. “Tighter, bitch!” It feels good to talk this way to her…a being who would normally kill me for even thinking it. It only adds to the temporary power I have, making it even more powerful by its very impermanence.
“Oooohhh, baby….,” she purrs as she crawls onto the bed and lies back and splays her limbs out in a shape that I think she’s done before. “You know what gets Alicia’s gears going, don’t ya stud?”
The smartstraps unfold from her ripe body, and she adds to the effect by swirling her body around as they do their work. She gives me everything I’ve paid for, completely diving into the game she knows I need. It’s not her doing it anymore, it’s me. She lets me know that. She plays along to feed me.
“Oh shit!” she cries, “what’s going on? What are you doing to me? HELP!!!”
This model is very good.
I watch the straps do their work (her work?), listening to her howls of protest, acting the good little victim of a horrific kidnapping, a nubile innocent taken by a voracious predator. I feel alive, and not just the technically alive I usually feel. Completely and totally alive, instincts that no war, no plague or famine can erase from the human psyche. It’s my food…my air. I gaze at her, snarl at her, approach her with evil purpose.
“Wh-What are you gonna do to me? Pleeee-eeease…please let me go!” She whimpers and begs and it draws me fully into my own reality.
Climbing onto the bed, straddling her almost-too-perfect body, I look down at her, grabbing her face and holding it so I can bore my stare into her. I think for a fleeting moment what I must look like and force the thought out of my head. I know what I look like, and it ain’t pretty….scars, burns and a nice little keloid patch from spending to much time in the yellow areas. But now, in my world, I’m everything she wants….everything she fears. I speak evenly, my rapid breathing coming finally under my control.
“I’m gonna do everything to you, little girl….everything. But first,” I leer as I trail a finger from each hand down her long arms, slowly letting her feel my touch, sense my intentions, feverishly enjoying the sight of her first twitches, “I’m going to work you over….and this is going to be quite unpleasant for you, I’m afraid…”
“Oh God…..NO! PLEASE DON’T! Don’t tickle me, PLEASE? I beg you, pleeeeaaassssse?”
I ignore her cries, or at least part of me does. The other part soaks them in like a sponge, sucking the desperation out of every word. My fingers trail down, resting in the hollows of her armpits, the smooth skin beckoning me to touch, tickle….tease….own. I can’t imagine what sort of gleeful psychotic grin my face must be twisted into as I rake my nails over the soft patches, focusing on the look of her, the feel of her. Her breasts thrust upward as I tickle under her arms, watching the muscles tense against the bonds, helpless to stop me. I’m consumed by the sight of her breasts, their subtle flow and shake as the tickling forces her into a reaction of my choosing. My hands, almost of their own volition, drift down and tickle the sides of those perfect tits, stroking over the soft flesh, trailing slow circles around the swelling areolae and flicking over the tips of her pink nipples. They respond to my touch, and it excites me in a way nothing else does anymore. Her futile cries fill my ears, swirl around the inside of my head and fuel my passion, a continuous circuit of act, react, act, react.
“OOOhhh…OOOhhhhahahaaHAANOOO!!!! OHGODPLEEEASE!!!! Nononothatticklessomuch…*gasssssssp*….ooohgod..it tickles so BAD! PLEASESTOPPLEASE?”
My hands continue their torment of this one perfect thing in my life. I love her. I hate her. I know what it’ll be like when I’m done, and I have to make her pay for that. Yes…it’s her fault…not mine. She could be nice to me after….she could understand me…but she doesn’t. She’s a bitch….she’s a goddess…it all flows over me as I drop down to cup her ribcage, feeling each bone press against the skin, her bound position extending her body and accentuating her curves, shadows and female form. My fingertips knead over the ribs, pressing in and out, stroking a single rib and tickling its isolated length. Her giggles become cries, then howls as my ten fingers tickle harder, faster….watching her serpentine form writhe and struggle, knowing that every touch is driving her mad and that she cannot get away from me. I begin to grind my hips on her, my desire to torment mixing with my overwhelming need to fuck her squirming feminine body. My hands slide down further, tickling all the way, keeping her stimulated as they flatten out and lay across her smooth stomach, tapping my fingers on the drum-like tightness of her skin. I lean into get close to her face.
“You have such…a sexy….belly….”
“Oh shitNO!! PLEASE! OhGOD not there, please don’t tickle me there, please? Lemme go-ho-hoooo I don’t wanna be tickled anymore! No more I can’t take itAAAIIGGHHHHHNOHOHOHAAAAA!”
I interrupt her pathetic begging with a grab at her waist, my fingertips poking into the incurve of her midriff, feeling the muscles tense and massaging her, tickling her, tormenting her. Her howls increase in pitch, and it’s the first music I’ve heard in….I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s a symphony of erotic pleasure as her hips try to buck me off but only succeed in giving me a show, a sexy performance where we’re the stars and the ending is always a good one. I stiffen my fingers and press two into each one of her sides, rolling them around and pulling down until I’m hitting her hipbone, digging in and tickling mercilessly, not letting up, needing to see her wriggle, shake….needing to hear her sharp intakes of breath as she tries to beg, tries to formulate words. Moving inward, my fingers flutter over the expanse of her belly, down over her pubic area and around either side of her moistening pussy, beckoning me. I let a finger slide up the tight slit, her wetness triggering a primal and automatic response. I want to flood her with sensation, drive her over the edge, and as I hook my finger to tickle the end of her swelling clit, the dam bursts, spilling the reservoir of my primality and letting it flood the world I’ve created.
“OoohhhhhOOHHH!!!!,” she starts to cry, biting her lips and working her mouth around the escaping moans, giggles and pleas, “Pleaselemmegooooo….I can’t take it….PLEASEPLEASE? NO MOREGODDAMITNOOO!!!!!”
She thrashes at her bonds as she looks at me, wide eyes and quivering lips, following my flow as I massage her with one hand and fumble to shed my pants with the other. I can almost feel the thick glaze over my own eyes, the heavy wet felt dropping onto my brain, enfolding it, crushing it. I have to have her, take her, devour her….she’s everything. I love her. I hate her. She’s every sensation and emotion that’s real and strong. She’s my island in a sea of desperation and misery. I can’t separate my need to love her and my desire to torture her, it all becomes one stifling force. I place my hands firmly at her waist, guiding her hips up to receive me, pressing my hardness against her and pushing in…pushing….pushing….feeling her envelop me, suck me in, draw me back into the womb….safe….warm….happy. My hands start to tickle her sides, forcing her hips into motion, matching her rhythm.
“OhhhOOHHH!!!! GOD baby! Please—HAAHAAAHAAOOOHGODFUCKME!!! TICKLEMEFUCKME…I want you….*gasp*….NoooheeheehaaaanononoGODFUCK!! MMMnnnn…..MMMNNGGHHH!!!”
Her moans match the thrumming in my head, the pounding of my heart…the rising pressure in my stomach. Her body snakes in a pure erotic dance, her breast heaving and bobbing, her back arching, pulling me in. I tickle harder, drawing my strength from her quivering form, the warm wetness of my surrogate womb and her angelic voice. It’s been so long…..so long….the feeling is almost unfamiliar as the pressure flows over my stomach, into the very pit and spreads, builds….have I ever felt this way? Is this the first time? I don’t know…I can’t remember….I am a virgin now, this is too new, too special, too raw….I can’t….can’t…..
“OoohhhhGOOOD!!!!! YYYEESS!!!!!! PLEASEFUCKME! FUCKME!!!! AAIIIGGHHH!!!!! OHGOD…I’m Cumming…cumming…..CUMMING……AAAAHHHHHHFUCKFUCKFUCK!”
She’s an animal as she howls in delight, her orgasm matching mine, pulsing around me, sucking me in and drawing me down. My brain is gone, my mind is somewhere I’ll never find…..colors…sounds….smells…..touches….all one blend of raw sensation as I cum so hard it hurts. I collapse onto her still-bound form, heaving…happy for one small moment. In this slice of time, she’s mine….all mine………
*********************************************
I hate alleyways. I don’t know why. It’s just some sort of subconscious aversion that I’ll probably never be able to figure out. I might be lost, but I think I’m on the right track. I was told where to go, I know that…..it’s just so….foggy. The smells lead me on…ozone and coolant. A wall….a door….
A man. Dirty, tall…one eye.
“Holy shit,” he says, “Ripper said you might come around, and you’re just as messed-up as he said you’d be.”
Ripper? Shit, I can’t keep track of all these street names anymore, they mean nothing to me. “I got something I wanna sell.” I say, my eyes darting around and taking in the sights of the back room.
“Yeah, no shit. No other reason you’d be here, dude. Whattya got?”
“Sexual experiences. Good ones….synth girl.” The words fall off my tongue as a part of me tries to hold them back. I have so little…..I can’t let this go….but I have to. I need more…so much more.
The man’s eye widens and he pulls in close to me, his rancid breath in my face, but I don’t care. My mind is elsewhere, on the future. The past is meaningless anymore. “You fuckin’ serious, shithead? You better not be screwin’ with me, or I swear I’ll make….”
“It’s gonna cost,” I interrupt him “it’s good. Real good.”
“Yeah…some real fucked up shit in there, Ripper tells me,” he breaths heavily, then backs off, “Said it’s why he cut you off a few months ago, too. Told me I shouldn’t mess with you anymore. Fucked if there’s even anything left in there, mi amigo.”
Something in the base of my being, a strength long lost to me wells up. A direction. A purpose. I grab the man by the collar and pull him in close, ignoring the rotten breath and staring into his eye. “Kinky sex with a synth is worth a shitload and you fucking KNOW it. There’s gotta be maybe ten or twelve people can even afford to have that in their brains forever. You can keep ‘em for yourself for all I care.” I let that idea hang in the air, almost hearing the wheels in his little brain whirling, weighing the thoughts of enough money to buy a new eye or having an experience he’d never realize in his pathetic life firmly nestled in his memory cells.
“Ok, ok….settle down, Sulk.”
What the fuck did he call me? Was he swearing at me? I could never keep up with the lingo here.
“How much?” he asks.
“500.” I reply, steadily holding his incredulous gaze.
“That’s it? Damn, dude…you are gone!”
“No, that’s not IT,” I spit the word at him, “Worth ten times more than that….but I need something else, too….that’s why the discount…..”
“What else?” he asks, eyeing me warily.
“I need some tech. I hear you know people.” I did hear that…..right?
“Yeah…I got connections. What exactly is it you want, or do I even wanna know?”
I back away and fix him with a glare that says I’m not messing around and don’t even make me say it twice I’m dead serious thankyouverymuch.
“Smartsuit override.”
*************************************************
I walk down the back roads, past buildings I don’t recognize, or maybe the earth is finally shifting, preparing to swallow up this shithole of a city and reforming the buildings into even more decrepit piles. I don’t know where I’m going…but I feel the need to get there. As I walk, I keep my head down, not drawing attention, avoiding the faces of those still around….just another sad soul lost…wandering…longing…..sulking.
I look down into my hand at the ratty piece of paper that tells me where to go. I don’t remember writing it, but it’s in my own hand, and in the back of mind, it’s the most important piece of paper left in the world. As I walk, I find myself staring at my hand and the long, ragged scar across my wrist. When the hell did I get that? Fuck, you get hurt every damn day around here, and I’m surprised I have an ugly scar? I put it out of mind as I meander, shamble….and the smells hit my nose, traveling up to my brain. Ozone….coolant….alcohol. They still make that? Here? Hmmm……
The buzzing sounds fill the street and I see the small outdoor bar that the paper described. Canopy….stools….girls. I sit on a bench where the road is cleared and watch. I know what to look for, I wrote it down. Minutes pass, then I see her. It has to be her. She flows around the others, drawing all eyes to her, her blonde hair swirling behind her, cascading down her back and falling just shy of her heart-shaped ass, hugged by leather straps encircling her flesh. Her breasts jut out, held up by the same straps, her skin inviting, perfect. She sees me….and walks over, red eyes boring into me as I stand.
“You lookin’ for something, dickhead?” she sneers.
I say nothing, there’s nothing to say. I hold up a 200 Value credchip. She snakes a long arm out at me and for a moment I wonder what she’s going to do. I stare down as a small slot opens up in her wrist. “Stick it in or beat it, asshole!”
I hate the way her voice sounds, and I wonder why I’m doing this. There’s this….thing in the back of my mind, the center of my heart, that feels drawn to her, some crazy emotion that tugs at my soul in a way that goes beyond attraction. It’s like I know her. I slide the chip in and she cocks her head with a distinct chime, her green eyes slitting, sensual. Her voice takes on a liquid smoothness.
“Oh, baby, where have you been? Alicia’s been missing you….”
Alicia. Her name is Alicia. I like the sound of the name.
She takes me by the arm and leads me across the street to some dingy looking building that might once have been a nice hotel. We walk through the door and she says something to the smelly man at the desk. She turns to walk up the stairs, looks over her shoulder and beckons me to follow. I motion to her to get going, I’ll be right there. Her shapely ass swishes up the stairs as she shrugs her shoulders. Standing in the lobby of the dark building, feeling around in my coat pocket. There’s the deskman. Some sort of shape curled into the corner. A woman sitting on a small chair on the opposite side. I grip my hands around the prize that 300 creds bought….bringing the laze pistol out and wordlessly aiming at the deskman’s head. Pressing the trig. Hearing the woman on the seat try to get up and then leveling the laze at her and pressing again, and once more at the huddled shape in the corner. I don’t even feel a muscle in my face twitch. Now there’s no one here….good. I need time, all that I can get. No one would care, bodies litter these streets, these blasted buildings. They move on….I always do.
I climb the stairs and enter the room. I can smell her perfume and it guides me. She’s there, beckoning me….her body all curves and straps. She fills my field of vision as it tightens into a small circle. Time flows, almost without me. There’s a familiarity to it, a comfortable something that leads me on, following her, touching her as she grinds against me, tracking her sexy body as it moves toward the bed and lays back.
“There’s something I’d like to do,” I start, trying to come off casual, “I think you’ll like it. It’ll be…”
“Oh, Alicia knows what you like, darling…she knows real well, baby….”
I’m caught a little off-guard. I thought a girl like this would resist, that I’d have to use whatever I could to convince her I was alright. Was she reading my mind? Did I come across that way? Or was this why I was drawn to this one in the first place?
“Naughty boy wants to tie me up, doesn’t he….you wanna tickle poor ‘lil Alicia, don’t you, baby?” she purrs as she lies back.
Something takes over. Yes! I have it, it’s the sole bright point of light in my brain. I know what I need to do, my purpose for being here…the act that’s going to make this whole stinking life…the whole miasma of corrupted brain images and dark nightmares all worth it. I center….draw myself in.
“Yes…I do. I want you tied up tight….very tight…..”
She giggles and lies back on the bed, her arms splaying out as her legs follow suit. The straps of her costume slide off her body, coiling down her limbs and searching for the bedposts. It all forms into a hard impression in my mind, a focus, a will. I reach into my pocket and grab hold of the thing I’d been carrying with me, the one possession that means more to me than anything. Well, almost anything….
As the straps coil and bind her to the four corners of the bedframe, I approach, staring into her eyes and catch her gaze. “More,” I say…in a daze… “I want you tied up….more….” I hold the small device up, point it at her and press the solitary button. I watch as her green eyes widen and her head rises off the bed. The straps move quickly, responding to whatever they respond to when triggered by some little blue box. I don’t know. I really don’t know tech. But, the results are wonderful. The straps elongate, flow over her body, working their way under the thin mattress, looping around any purchase they can find on the framework underneath….wrapping her wrists, her ankles….strapping her thighs and biceps down hard…I can see her skin bulge ever-so-slightly around the edges of the straps as they tighten. Two snake up her neck….criss-crossing until they find their destination. One pins her forehead firmly to the bed while the other forces its way into her mouth, filling it, parting her jaws and gagging her thoroughly.
I’ll say one thing about synth girls. The are the best. The Bots are fun, but it’s all programming. Synths can feel….can react. Yes, it’s all activated and controlled by their duty status, but it’s more than just programming. I remember (I think) being told they were human in a way…something about clones…attachments, upgrades…I was young (was I young once?) and they were new. I was amazed at the thought. At least, something tells me I was. I don’t know how they work…..I don’t know tech.
This one shows fear. Real fear. Good. Something went outside of her control. She reacts. And I do as well. Everything falls away, everything that’s left…any semblance of civility, any hope for a future. It’s here and now. My primal instincts, my base desires….all that matters to me. I’m going to make this crappy life worth something, feel love, feel power….just feel…something…, before it’s taken away. I’m calm….surprisingly so. Focused. Controlled. I circle the bed holding my gorgeous girl captive. And she is mine. All mine. No one’s coming….no one cares. I enjoy the sight of her breathing, the sucking sound through her dainty nose….the heaving of her chest, those beautifully perfect breasts rising and falling, the wiggle of her hips. My voice drops and it’s not even my own I hear. It’s another’s….someone I might have been…once.
“Are you comfortable, baby?” I spit the word out, “feeling a little helpless? We are going to have so much fun…..for so long…..and you’re all mine….”
She mews into the gag, her eyes wide, the cords in her neck straining to lift her head, unable. I settle down by her captive feet, twitching and thrashing. I take in the sight of my fingers moving slowly toward them, knowing she can’t see me from that angle, so I tease her…it feels good.
“I’m going to….tickle…your ……feet…..” I slightly sing as she screams into the thick strap forced into her mouth. I draw out the moment, waiting for that first contact, savoring it. My fingers touch and it’s electric. Her smooth soles dance as I tickle along their length, stroking up and down as her feet thrash. I curl my fingers, scrabble over her ticklish soles, scrape my nails along the nerves. I feel it almost as much as I know she does. I internalize the sensation of what it must feel like to be helplessly bound and tickled mercilessly…almost feeling pity, but turning it into motivation. I want her to feel this, suffer from it. I hate her. I love her. She is everything. It’s my reality, my world. It’s just me…and her. I grab one of her feet, slowly pull her toes back and run down the length of her sole with my fingertips over and over, feeling the fight in her toes, the attempt to twist her ankle. I hold tight, locking on. The force of my grip counterpoints the light touch, searing into my brain the effect of touching her so lightly, yet getting such a violent reaction. One little tickle, and the object of my desire is squealing like a little girl. I quicken the pace as she screams….
I have to tear myself away from tickling her trapped feet. There’s so much more of her, and all mine. I walk to the side of the bed, my hand keeping contact with her skin, letting her know I’m still there….I’ll always be there. Her eyes dart at me, pleading, her lips curling around the gag, her sounds pitiful…wonderful….sexual to the Nth degree.
“You are soooo sexy,” I tease as I trail a finger down her body, her long flank exposed, helpless, unable to move against whatever I want to do to any point on her naked flesh, “and soooo ticklish. You DO like being tickled don’t you?” I lean in a little closer to her face, “Yes…you do…you just love to be tickled, I can see it in your eyes….feel it coming off of you. It’s ok, baby…I’m here…I’ll take care of you,” I let a single finger start at her exposed armpit, press in and trail down her entire length, feeling her peal of muffled laughter, taunting her all along the way, “I’ll make sure you get what you want. I’m going to tickle you….forever….over and over….just the way you like.”
“MMNNPPHH!!!! MMNNGGG!!! MMMGGRRRRN!!!!”
The sound of her captured pleas focuses me, it’s timeless. There is no future, only now. Only this body and my desire to torment it and break the mind of she who used to own it. I tickle back up the side of her body, feeling the high point of her hip, the smooth incurve of her waist, the rolling ridges of her ribcage, the deep hollow of her armpit. Over and over, I trail the finger back and forth, up and down…..adding more, tickling faster, wider…covering more naked skin….absorbing the way she fights, the way her muscles contract, involuntarily twitching and struggling against the tickling, trying so desperately to pull away…but no. I have her…..spread and bound…all naked ticklish skin and pure sexual energy. I pull myself up onto the bed and attack both sides, tickling under arms as she mews, tickling into her ribs as she moans, tickling her sides as she screams. I like her sides, they’re so deliciously smooth, so utterly ticklish, so very female and full of life and promise of carnal delights….digging into her sides, clawing at her, pressing in hard and circling the sensitive nerves with my fingertips….forcing her to shake her hips, exciting me in a way I never thought possible even in my darkest, most wonderful dreams.
“God, I love this,” I hear myself saying, but something else has taken over, forcing the words from my mouth so I can focus on tickling my blonde captive, “I love tickling you….I love the way your body moves, the way you scream…go ahead…scream for me….SCREAM….. I tickle her harder, more forcefully, poking fingertips into her sides, over her hipbones, fluttering over her inner thighs, teasing her pussy, pressing against her clit, forcing the inevitable moistness on her, working her….
It all gets lost…..it’s hours….days…..I don’t know…..I don’t care. There’s no world outside, no pain, no disease, no desperation….just me and this creature of sex and beauty, all mine…..it goes on…and on….tickling her….fucking her….tickling her….fucking her…..watching her eyes go red and pulling with everything she has, biting into the cruel gag….seeing the threat in her eyes and not caring…barely noticing the change…..just tickling her more….torturing her……how did we get here?.....tickling her….why do I like this?.....fucking her……where do I have to be later?....tickling her….why can’t I remember?.....fucking….tickling…..what’s outside this room?....tickling….fucking….tickling……
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The pain is a little better today. Huddled against what used to be a wall, I curl my arms around my leg…the one that I can bend. The broken bone is setting at an ugly angle, and my arms hurt when I hug myself. But, it’s getting better. I can’t remember how it happened. Anything can happen in this shithole….and I’m willing to bet I got mugged and beaten, enough to make me lose my memory of the whole thing. How did I escape? Do I care? Somebody must have given me some sort of care. The cuts on me haven’t boiled over with infection, so I must have some….yes…there in my pocket, a small vial with some pills…where did they come from? I force myself up, holding the 20 value credchip I have left tight in my palm. I need some food. Yes, some food. Where did I get 20 creds from? A fleeting memory….a door…no…a piece of metal….an alleyway. I hate alleyways…I think…yes, I do. There’s an aversion there….I put it out of my mind. It flees….but parts linger…..a man….R---…Roger…no….Richard, yes….Richard. Standing over me….saying he…what?....found me? In a hole? No….maybe….oh, it’s not important….it was something to do with holes. That’s it. I must have been mugged and dumped in a hole. So, why did he take care of me? Do I even know him? Shit, my head hurts. I hear a few words reverberate in my head. ….found you….that stupid bitch….shot her…..medicine….hurt……gonna have to sell it……need medicine….. STOP!
Just stop….
I continue walking, trying to stay straight, trying to show some purpose, show no weakness, don’t be a target….don’t bow your head…..don’t ….what’s the word I’m looking for…..don’t sulk. I follow the smells….is that food? Around here? Maybe….I follow further…the smell intensifies….no….it’s ozone….coolant? …..couldn’t be alcohol. Why did I come this way? Something draws me…something I can’t place. The street opens up and I find a small bench. The sounds attract my gaze. Hmmm…looks like a bar maybe. Could they have food? They have girls, I can see that. Nice ones, a few of them anyway. My gaze lingers on one as she steps out of the shadows….my heart skips a beat. I see real beauty for once….it surprises me, especially here. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back, falling over her heart-shaped ass, surrounded in leather straps, naked skin poking through, her bare breasts high. She…..sees me? Me? Why would she look at me? I’m nothing. I hear her voice, but it’s not like the rest of her….it’s angry…harsh…I don’t like it. Do I? There’s something under it….isn’t there? She approaches, beckoning two others to follow.
“Holy shit…it’s him! I don’t fucking believe it!”
No, she wasn’t talking about me. No one knows me here. But, I sense trouble and lower my head, lifting my eyes enough to take in her form, sexual in its negative energy. I wish I could have a girl like that…..wait….they’re coming toward me! Why?
“You’re mine asshole! And your friend ain’t gonna save you this time!”
What? She couldn’t be speaking to me. Just let her pass, go on by and fuck with whoever she’s mad at….happens all the time. At least I can watch. She is perfect….well, except for that ugly burn mark on her hip….is that a laze mark? Damn, I didn’t know you could get those anymore…..didn’t I have one once…..no, when would I ever have one? Like I could afford it. Wait…..she has one.
And she stops….pointing it….at me? No…..not me. I don’t know…I don’t care. Just let things happen, don’t get involved. Happens all the time. At least I’ll get to watch her fight, maybe. It turns me on, in a way. She’s gorgeous….I’m lost in the way she looks…she’s so beautiful…..so beautiful…..I feel a stir in my heart, something in the back of my mind, blocking out the scream in my head to run…..she is pointing it at me…..I don’t care….she’s so beautiful…..all other thoughts pushed away…..all I can think…all I can feel….I wonder what she smells like? I wonder what she feels like?
I wonder what it would be like to touch her?
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