THE CONTAINER Part 4
T.S. FESSELN
Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depiction of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at [email protected]. Or visit his weblog at fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
Truant Officer Nyx stopped her van in front of the apartment complex in which PAC Inspector Lire Angel was now sleeping away. She knew that by a glance at her pane. Lire’s vital signs were being transmitted by request from the chip imbedded at the base of Lire’s skull. With a few whisks of her finger, Nyx ensured that Lire Angel would continue to sleep a much deeper sleep until Nyx needed her to wake up.
With a hiss, the van had settled to the ground and Nyx climbed out. She was dressed in full TO regalia: glistening black body suit, full isolation helmet, weapons belt festooned with all manner of restraints and her TO special q-gun. Even though her suit was cranked to near freezing, Nyx felt hotter than the barrel of a plasma heater.
The Hub was always humming with people and all steered a clear path around the truant officer. Nyx grinned. She knew she looked intimidating with her nearly two meter height. With a mere thought, the vision screens of her isolation helmet zoomed, panned and switched to thermal and night-light. Data streamed around the screens, telling more than she really needed to know.
The doors to the rear of the van opened and the hovering restraining chair floated out, following Nyx like a fried-wire slave. A compact unit, the Hover Restraint Device looked like a standard bureau issued one, but this HRD was modified for Nyx by her ‘patron’.
The door to the apartment complex was keyed, but with another flick of a finger, the door bolts thunked open and let Nyx in. Nyx moved with purpose through the lobby to the freight lifts tucked behind a neon-lit waterfall sculpture. The lift shot up to the 43rd floor where Nyx and her hovering companion stepped off.
The corridor was as empty and quiet as a tomb as truant officer found Lire’s apartment. Another wave of a finger, and the apartment door glided open.
The apartment was compact, like most workers were. Lire had kept it neat and clean. Her walls glowed images of desert buttes and sand-blasted rock. The scenes were oddly sterile; devoid of any life.
Nyx found her quarry sleeping near the back of the apartment. Nyx knew she wouldn’t wake up; the chip was forcing melatonin into Lire’s brain that Nyx could slap her around and the woman would sleep like the dead.
The truant officer peeled back the covers to reveal her sleeping beauty. Lire was a petite woman with short, honey-blonde hair and an angelic face; the kind of face people naturally trusted. Her skin had that healthy tanned look. Her breasts were on the smallish side but like the rest of her, well sculpted.
The HRD glided over to the bed, the rear arm-restraint panel opening as well as the holes to restrain her feet. Nyx picked-up the blondes limp form and positioned her into the device. When Nyx was done, the nude Lire looked like she was floating in a kneeling posture with her arms encased in back of her.
Nyx let her fingers glide over her captive’s body, feeling its warmth. That was one thing that Nyx loved about her suit. When she wanted to, the suit was like a second skin. She could feel everything her skin could. Nyx could even enhance the feeling.
Enough of this, Nyx thought to herself, it wasn’t really fun. She peeled a black lip seal patch from her belt and smoothed it over the woman’s mouth. Now it was time to wake Lire up from her beauty sleep.
Another touch on her wrist pane, Lire was startled awake. Her dark eyes widened in fear as she saw her own gagged reflection in the truant officers faceplate. She twisted in the grip of the hover chair. For Nyx, it was delicious to watch. Lire tried to scream, but the black, rubbery patch over her lips kept her silent.
Now for the fun.
Nyx’s fingers touched her wrist pane, letting the new sensations engulf her. She now felt her captives fear. The sensations of being restrained, feeling what Lire was feeling, were the product of a shadow market chip that transmitted another’s chipped person’s sensations while still maintaining you own in the background.
Nyx curled up into the blonde’s warm bed and maneuvered the restraint hover over her, maneuvering it so Lire dangled over her. The truant officer reached up and began to slowly pinch her captives’ nipples. A warm ripple of pleasure went through them both as she continued to pull and knead them. Nyx could feel both of their libidos starting to take over; part of the Torean genetics; an abnormal drive for the need to breed. Soon, Lire’s hips began to subtly move as she moaned behind her sealed lips.
Nyx reached further down her captives’ body, her hand spread over her belly and down between her forced-open legs. Nyx tickled at the soft down of Lire’s nest, increasing the desire in both of them. Her gloved finger then caressed the swollen labia of the blondes’ sex. A shudder of bliss made both of them quiver with a need only Nyx could relieve. She slipped her finger into the blonde’s slit, slowly slipping up and down. Lire rocked her hips, trying to impale herself further onto Nyx’s digit. Nyx was happy to oblige, inserting her finger into Lire and fucking her with it.
Nyx moaned as she felt both of their orgasms building like water a high-pressure hose. She caressed Lire’s bud, the fabric of her gloved hand producing an ultrasonic vibration. Her passion exploded as Lire’s orgasm crushed both of them in its powerful grip. Both of them thrashed until Nyx dropped her hand away.
That was good. Nyx switched off Lire’s feeling. It was now time for work. Nyx pulled out from her belt pouch a tight rubber hood which she peeled over her captive’s twisting head until it was fully covered. The material could breathe but would keep her captive’s face cloaked from the curious. The fabric also had woven into it an electric cloak that would prevent Lires’ chip from being read by anyone.
After crawling out of bed, Nyx quickly left the apartment, her prisoner hovering behind her all the way to the back of the van.
-o0o-
Lire couldn’t figure out why this was happening to her. The swarm of moments that led to her being in the clutches of a Truant Officer overwhelmed her. The restraints; the pleasure; the anguish of not knowing what was going to become of her were too much. The only thing she could think of was that this involved that container that she was supposed to have shuffled over to Truck.
Lire shuddered.
She was headed to Truck. She had heard the rumors of his flesh factory and what happed to those women that were forced into that dripping web.
Ice cold terror was all that gripped her mind.
-o0o-
Dross made his way home after reclaiming his uniform when he and Aelea parted ways. She was headed back to her station to try and track down her prisoner and the truant officer that claimed that the prisoner wasn’t at the kiosk.
Dross’ wanderings took him past that very same kiosk. The poor cleaning crew girl was still there. She heard Dross stopping.
“Please, help me. Let me lick you. Use me, please. I need to get home.”
Dross glanced at her fine meter. She still had a few credits to go in order to be let out of the restraint platform. He felt a twinge of guilt. He thought Aelea was a little heavy-handed with the brunette. The woman was a victim of circumstance. Dross swiped his card, typed in what he was paying, and unzipped his pants.
With a few whirrs, the platform swung up until he could position himself between her legs. Her inner thighs were bruised, Dross noticed. He wondered what kind of abuse she had suffered. He was sure it was the result of some over-zealous off-worlders seeing the police kiosks for the first time.
“Thank you sir!” the woman said.
Dross eased himself inside her. He knew the sensors within the kiosk would monitor her punishment and make sure the woman paid her penalties. She felt good around him as he began to thrust into her passionlessly. The act was animalistic and feral as he could feel his seed broiling up inside him. She milked him as best as she could, sensing he was about to cum. Finally, he sprayed his semen inside her as she moaned and quivered. Toreans were built for breeding and no matter how mechanical the sex was, they always derived at least some pleasure from it.
“Thank you, sir,” she panted, “Thank you.”
Dross zipped his pants up. Her fine was now a “0”. In a few minutes, her cuffs would click open and she would have to survive the embarrassment of making her way through the streets naked until she found the shelter of her home.
“I am paging a cab for you,” Dross said, “Don’t worry about the fare.”
“You don’t have to do that, sir.”
“Yes I do.”
The restraints clicked open and the woman untangled herself from the grid-like platform. She peeled away her blindfold and threw it away.
“You!” she spat, “You were with that officer.”
“Yes I was and I am sorry. She is an off-worlder and sometimes doesn’t understand what it is to be a Torean free-womb.”
The brunette grunted, “Thank you for helping pay my fine.”
“Again,” Dross said, “No need in thanking me. However, I need to ask you a question or two.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “What questions?”
“About the other woman prisoner; the one that got you in trouble. After you were put here, do you remember hearing anything involving her?”
The woman thought a moment, “No. I just heard her being claimed. I am sure she was gagged because I could just hear her moanings. Though, as she was taken away, she was really trying to scream.”
Dross dug into his uniform pocket and took out one of his digicards.
“If you think of anything, plug this in. Please keep in touch.”
The woman nodded as an automated cab settled down at the curb. The door swung up and she climbed in.
“Thank you,” she said as the door swung shut, leaving Dross standing there, thinking.
It is usually a long time between postings for my stories. In the past, I have tried to compile a mailing list, but it has become unmanageable as of late. However, you can check my weblog at fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ for news of my latest works and to read some new ones. Or, you can catch me on Twitter or Facebook for up to the minute progress or a pleasant chat. Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated. Please e-mail me a [email protected] or post them on my blog