4 comments/ 38304 views/ 10 favorites Zap By: JukeboxEMCSA "Zap" Ethan watched silently as Pamela's eyelids began to flutter. She gradually shifted position, the return to consciousness clearly a slow and difficult process for her. He watched as she began to reach up to try to rub the sleep from her eyes, only to halt in obvious confusion as her arm tugged against the leather restraints. Only when the bewilderment on her face turned to raw panic and her eyes went wide open all at once did he finally speak. "Scream all you want," he said, savoring each word as it left his mouth. "There's--" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Ethan waited until she paused for breath. It took a surprisingly long time. "Scream all you--" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" She finally stopped to suck air into her lungs once more. Ethan looked at her. She looked at Ethan. There was a long pause. Finally, Ethan spoke. "Scream all you want," he said. "There's nobody who can--" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The end of Pamela's exhalation was hoarse, like someone who'd seen women scream a lot in horror movies but had never realized that someone was standing nearby with a glass of water on the sets of all those films. "Done?" Ethan asked, a bit peeved. He'd rehearsed this moment a lot, in his dreams and fantasies, and he was a little bit irritated that Pamela wasn't responding the way he wanted her to. Only the knowledge that this was an entirely temporary and correctable situation kept him from getting genuinely angry. Pamela let out a brief, experimental yelp. Then another, like the last drips of a faucet after you've tightened it that last quarter-turn. Finally, she nodded. "Good," he said magnanimously. "Scream all you want," he continued, with the amused tones of someone who realized that the line sounded even better when the other person had actually done it. "There's nobody who can hear you." Pamela yanked against her restraints for a few moments. She opened her mouth to scream, then stopped. She looked around wildly, taking in the drab green walls, the heavy metal door, the lack of furniture apart from the bed she rested on. The total absence of hope. She looked back at Ethan, and he imagined her trying to discern kindness from his pinched, craggy features and his beady eyes that poked out from beneath two thick, bushy eyebrows. Ethan was under no illusions about his own appearance. It was part of the reason he'd devoted his life to engineering this moment. Finally, she spoke. Her voice was tiny, barely above a whisper, but she said exactly what he'd imagined she would say. "Please don't kill me," she whimpered. Ethan allowed his mouth to quirk into a half-smile. "I'm not going to kill you," he said. He allowed the specter of hope to cross her features for a half-second before he continued. "In fact, nobody will even have time to notice you're missing. You'll return to your old existence, you'll smile and nod in all the right places and say all the right things to all the right people...and nobody will ever know you've become my mindless, obedient sex slave." He brought out the Weapon, then, as her eyes widened in surprise or amazement or incredulity...or just possibly, he fancied, a bit of excitement at the thought. "It's my pride and joy," he said. He ran his hand along the polished wood barrel, traced a fingertip across the gleaming brass and watched the moisture from his sweat fog briefly on the warm metal before evaporating. "Not just a breakthrough but a work of art. When I pull the trigger, the energies of the Weapon will course through your living brain, instantaneously earthing themselves in the very heart of your mind and permanently eradicating all resistance to my will. Your memories, your skills will remain...but all trace of the woman you were will be gone forever. You will be a helplessly obedient drone, a mindless thrall subject to my command and unable to even conceive of a single thought without my permission." He paused for effect. "Just the way you always wanted to be." He saw it, then, the tiny flicker of shock and recognition in her already-wide eyes that told him she knew exactly what he was talking about, even if she didn't know how he knew. "Oh, yes, Pamela," he whispered, leaning in a little bit closer. He saw that her eyes were fixed on the Weapon, locked in horrified fascination like a mouse staring at a cobra. He felt his cock pulsing rock-hard inside his pants. "I know all about you. I've been watching you for a long time, Pamela. I know about your other identities, the people you become when you're online. I've read all your stories, all those women turned into mindless sex slaves. I've been in the chatrooms late at night, watching you act out all those fantasies time and time again and pushing your Masters to try harder, push farther, make the dream more real." He patted the Weapon with one hand. "This is when it all becomes totally real, Pamela. This is exactly what you wanted." Pamela responded with a tiny shake of her head, her eyes still focused tightly on the Weapon. Ethan felt his cock surge with lust as he continued. "Oh, don't try to deny it," he said smugly. "We both know you're lying. You can try to pretend that you value your mind, your thoughts, your free will. You can try to pretend those were just fantasies, that you're not really that kind of girl. But I can see the truth in your eyes. More than that, I can see the arousal you're trying to deny." He couldn't take it anymore, he reached down and began stroking himself through his pants. "That's why I went to the trouble of kidnapping you first, so you could see this. So you could anticipate the moment when you became my slave. Admit it, Pamela. This is what you want." Pamela shook her head again. "No," she whispered, her voice echoing off the linoleum in the silence. "No, it's not." Ethan chuckled. God, it was even better than he'd imagined. "You're going to try to tell me you haven't fantasized about this? You haven't dreamed of losing every bit of yourself and becoming a true thrall, not just a pretender like all the other girls? You're going to try to claim that your dead-end job and your tiny apartment is worth fighting for?" "No," Pamela said, her voice steadier than he expected. "I want to be brainwashed, just...not like this." "What?" Ethan felt like a dancer who'd just heard the record scratch to a stop. He struggled to find the next thing to say to bring the conversation back in line with his fantasies, but every time he groped for a word, it was always the same one. So he said it again. "What?" "It's the struggle that's sexy," she said, sitting up a little as her eyes lost some of their fear and gleamed with the enthusiasm of a woman who'd finally found someone she could open up to. "I always loved the idea of the slow, sensual takeover, you know? Trying to fight, even though you know it's no good because the brainwashing is a slow, inexorable tide eroding your resistance with the relentless bliss of obedience." Her breathing sped up a little as she got into the fantasy. "And then you reach that moment where you don't even remember what you're resisting or why you should be resisting it, where the struggle becomes mindless and instinctive because your thoughts are all turned to pleasure. And then you realize the pleasure is too perfect ever to resist, and your thoughts collapse because in the end, you want to give in. You want to obey. The...the machine, the power, the whatever-it-is, it takes you to the very brink...and you step over yourself because you can't imagine doing anything else." She was shifting rhythmically now, rubbing her thighs together under the blankets. Ethan suddenly wished he'd undressed her, but he had wanted to watch her strip once she'd become his thrall. "That's what I want. To be seduced into obedience. To struggle against the endless, inexorable undertow that submerges my mind into an endless sea of blank, dreamy pleasure. To lose myself in Master's will..." She inhaled sharply and threw her head back, her nipples stiffening as she came. Finally, she opened eyes he didn't remember her closing and looked at him steadily. "But a ray gun that just goes, 'Zap, you're my slave, now let's fuck'?" She snorted. "BO-ring!" "I. Um." Ethan stared at Pamela for a long moment. The pounding of his heart seemed very loud in his ears, felt even louder in his cock. "Could you excuse me?" he said. "I'll be back in a little bit." ***** Ethan burst through the door in a rush, almost spilling the bag of groceries he carried. "Hi!" he said, his voice a gasp of relief trying to masquerade as nonchalance. He'd imagined coming back into the room to find Pamela gone, waiting for him with an improvised weapon, waiting for him with a squad of police, dead from some sort of brilliant suicide plan rather than live as his sex slave... But instead, she just stared at him with a vaguely petulant look on her face. "I'm hungry," she said. "It's been almost twelve hours." "I know," he said quickly, placatingly, "I'm sorry, I got back as quick as I could. I really didn't expect to have to keep you here this long, I didn't have any food here for you, and oh man was I busy, I had to go find another bed and I had to recalibrate the Weapon and--" He dumped a few packages of food into her lap and started back for the door. "Sorry, I didn't know what you liked so I just got you a bunch of stuff." Ethan darted back out of the room to get the bed. When he wheeled it back in, Pamela was sitting there with an expression of exasperated amusement on her face. Her hands groped for food that was just a few inches out of her extremely restricted range of motion. "Ahem?" she said. "Oh!" Ethan squeaked. He darted over to her bed and put a cup of applesauce into one hand and a plastic spoon into the other. She gestured as if to dip one into the other, tugging theatrically at the restraints. "Oh!" Ethan said again, by now thoroughly flustered. He'd never been very good with women. He was always nervous, always doing the wrong thing and saying the wrong thing and spilling the wrong thing and stepping on the wrong thing. That was why he'd invented the Weapon. He wanted a girl who would always understand, who would never be cruel or disdainful. He felt completely off-balance dealing with a Pamela who actually had feelings of her own. And yet... He scooped some applesauce onto the spoon and put it to her lips, watching her gratefully suck it off. Was it just him, or did she seem to actually...like him, just a little? He poured a trickle of bottled water onto her tongue, watched her swallow gratefully. It was probably his imagination. He wasn't generally good at getting women to like him. They usually tried to run. "Oh!" Ethan gasped a third time, dropping the bottle of water onto the bed and racing for the door. He heard Pamela squeal behind him as the cool water glugged out into her lap, but he had other things to think about. He flung the door open and darted into the hall. A few moments later he returned, dragging a slim blonde woman. "Sorry!" he said. "I just remembered, and I didn't want to just leave her out there, and I..." He reached down and hauled the deadweight of the woman up and onto his shoulder. She flopped bonelessly over him, and he struggled to lift her. "Sorry," he grunted again. "I, um...I know, I probably look like a total idiot." He stood up halfway and lost his grip on the woman's ankles. She slithered down his back to the floor. "I just, I've never kidnapped anyone before." Pamela arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?" she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "That's different!" he shouted, shifting the woman back into a sitting position. "You wanted--I mean, I thought--that was different." He grabbed the woman's wrists and moved around the bed. "I didn't just grab you off the street like I did with her. I planned everything, you know?" He pulled hard, then stopped with a wince as he heard the clunk of head hitting bedframe. "Down to the last detail. This is..." He moved back around the bed, letting the woman slump back down to the floor. He sighed. "This was a lot easier without someone watching." "So what's she for?" Pamela asked, sitting up and leaning forward. She seemed animated, interested despite herself. Ethan grabbed the woman around the waist from behind, feeling absurdly like he was about to give her the Heimlich maneuver. He hauled her up and flopped her onto the bed, then shifted her legs up. "I needed a test subject," he said. "If I'm going to recalibrate the Weapon to do...what you wanted..." He felt his face grow hotter than could readily be explained by the exertion. "I have to test it. I've already lowered it to half-strength, but I don't know what kind of effect that dosage will produce for certain, not without trying it out." "How did you test it before if you didn't do any kidnapping?" Pamela asked as Ethan flipped the woman over and began fastening the restraints into place. "Chimps, mostly," he said absently as he tightened the wrist restraints. "Their brains are basically similar to humans, and they're capable of understanding human language. All I needed to do was test their reactions to commands and give them 'before and after' MRIs." He pulled the ankle restraints taut and stepped away from the bed. "But for this," he said, pulling out a small, stubby brass pistol with a flaring nozzle, "I needed someone who can give me feedback." He pulled the trigger and a soft blue light began to play over the woman's body. "What's that?" Pamela asked from behind him. "Sleep ray," he said, a bit of pride sneaking into his voice. "Same thing I used to capture you. If I don't neutralize it, she'll probably sleep for another eighteen hours or so." He watched the woman slowly stir back into consciousness, then leaned into her field of vision to get her attention. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "Are you feeling okay?" "Yeah, I'm...fine," the woman muttered groggily. "What's going on? I thought I told you I didn't do outcall--" She tried to rub her forehead and started in terror when the restraints halted the motion. "What the fuck?" "Um, yes," Ethan said. He didn't quite know what to say this time. The speech to Pamela, he'd rehearsed a thousand times in his head until he could say it in his sleep (and possibly did, for all he knew) but this... "Um, I was planning to shoot you with a mind-control ray that turned you into my sex slave. Do you think you could talk us through the process, tell us what you're feeling as it happens?" "Fuck you!" the woman shouted loudly. "Fuck you, you creepy limp-dicked woman-killing fuck of a son of a motherfucking pansy faggot fuckass..." Ethan sighed internally. He'd forgotten to cover 'screaming all you wanted' this time. He went back out into the hall, the screaming following him the entire way, and grabbed the Weapon from where he'd left it. He came back into the room to find the woman still spitting out obscenities. "That's fine," he said, trying to sound soothing even though he doubted she could hear him over the sound of her own voice. "Just keep talking..." He pulled the trigger. Almost instantly, the woman's shouts dissolved into a low, wordless moan. Her nipples stiffened as though Ethan had turned the temperature in the room down thirty degrees, and her back arched into a phantom cock. "Nnnnuhhhhh," she whimpered, her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. "Uhhh-uhhh-uhhhnnnnNnn!" "Can you hear me?" Ethan asked, lowering the gun slightly. "Do you feel capable of resisting my commands?" "Guh-uhh-uhhn!" Drool leaked from the corners of her mouth as she bucked endlessly, her hips pumping back and forth over and over as the radiation from the Weapon took effect. "Gnuhh....mahhh...fuuhhhhhck..." Ethan looked back at Pamela. "Did she say 'fuck', or was that just random?" Pamela shrugged. The woman's low moan turned into the high, endless scream of a woman stuck in the throes of orgasm. Her hands strained to reach her pussy with an absolute single-mindedness unlike anything Ethan had ever seen before. He watched in utter astonishment as the woman pulled, her strength like that of the possessed, until the metal bedframe gave out under the strain and her hand plunged under the waistband of her jeans to dive into her pussy. "Ooh, ohh, oh yess, oh yes Master, oh oh fuck Master love Master fucking love love obey must obey feels so so ohh ohh fuuuuuuuuuckkkkk..." At last the tremors of activity ceased, and she slumped back onto the bed to lie prone and still. There was a long silence. "Um..." Ethan coughed nervously. "Excuse me? Miss?" He waved at her experimentally, wishing he'd remembered to ask her name before shooting her with the sleep ray. "Are you, um...feeling alright?" The woman finally sat up, her eyes perfectly glassy and her face utterly devoid of expression. "I am perfectly obedient, Master. I live to serve your will." Ethan turned back to Pamela, a sheepish smile on his face. "Lower the dose?" he asked. Pamela held up her hand, thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. "Just a titch." THREE WEEKS LATER... "Watch out!" Pamela's shout came just as he was adjusting the restraints on Patient Seven, and made him realize why she'd been acting so weird. Well, weird for a woman he'd just kidnapped and was trying to force into a magnetic resonance imaging machine. It was kind of surprising how quickly you got to know what was normal and what wasn't. Patient Seven hadn't been acting normally. She hadn't been struggling (not that it would have done her much good--he'd tied her down so tightly to make sure she didn't screw up the results by thrashing that she was practically mummified. It would be so much easier to get the 'before' MRI if the sleep ray didn't screw up the results...) She hadn't been yelling obscenities, or pleading for mercy. She hadn't really been doing much of anything. She'd just been looking around. Everywhere, he realized in retrospect, but behind him. All that went through his head just before he turned around, much faster than he thought he was capable of. After he turned around, all he could think of was that the dose on Patient Four must have been much too low. If she was capable of pretending to be a slave in order to be let free of the restraints, she was definitely in need of another blast. Too bad she was holding the Weapon. "Keep your mouth shut," she snarled. She gestured to the entranced women lying on their beds, their eyes closed in an an endless blissful dream of obedience. "I swear, you try telling any of these fucking bimbos to even so much as move, and I will shoot you with this thing until you're a fucking vegetable." Ethan started to say, "Okay," then remembered that what he was saying "Okay" to was not talking, and closed his mouth abruptly. A moment later, realizing that she was expecting something from him, he nodded. He felt a trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck as he tried to remember what setting he'd calibrated the Weapon to last. Did Patient Five go under too quickly? Or was that Patient Six? He had notes, but Patient Four probably wasn't going to let him look at them. Zap "I should just shoot you with this right now," she said through gritted teeth. "Just blast you with it and make you my slave. Then you'd have to let me out of here, wouldn't you? You wouldn't be able to help yourself. I could ask you to turn yourself in, and you'd just march right down to the police station and write out a full confession." She made a tiny thrusting motion with the Weapon. "Wouldn't you?" Ethan swallowed hard. Very slowly, he nodded. "But I'm better than that," she said. "I'm better than you. I'm not making a slave out of anybody. Not even you, 'Master'." There was just a tiniest hint of pleasure in her voice, the barest hint of a purr when she said the word that told Ethan the Weapon had left its mark on her. For a moment, he wondered if she was bluffing. Maybe she couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. He'd be willing to risk finding out if only he could remember what he'd calibrated the Weapon to last. If he guessed wrong and she did hit him with a weak blast, he could probably resist it and gun her down with the sleep ray in his pocket. A little jolt wouldn't hurt. Anything he was smart enough to do to himself, he was smart enough to undo. But only if he had the chance. If he became her slave, she'd never let him free. "No, I'm going to take you to the police station myself, and I'll bring them back here and show them what you did, and you can fucking rot in jail on eight counts of kidnapping. And maybe there's a crime for brainwashing women to be your sex slaves and maybe there isn't, but I know you'll go to jail for locking us up like this. You like that thought? Going to jail?" Each question was punctuated with a little jab of the gun. "..." Ethan started to speak, but she tensed up on the trigger in a way that made his voice trail off into silence again. Intellectually, he knew all the energy projection requirements that required a certain size of muzzle bore, but it really wasn't until he was looking at the business end of the Weapon that Ethan realized just how intimidating that black mouth was. It drew the attention the way that headlights blinded a deer. "Don't even think about it," Patient Four said sharply. She didn't specify what 'it' was. Ethan suspected she might not even know. Hindbrain adrenalin had taken over now, instinctive fear and revulsion driving all her actions. Everything was a threat to her now. Even if he could get the Weapon away from her, she'd probably try to kill him. "I might be better than you, but that doesn't mean I won't shoot if you force me to. You think jail is bad? I can make you beg to be someone's prison bitch. You'd deserve it, every second of it. What you did to us, what you tried to do to me...what you did to those seven other women..." "Six," Pamela said. Patient Four did a full 180-degree turn to glare at Pamela. "What?" she said. "You--you mean he didn't...didn't..." She stammered for a second. "Are you crazy or something? Do you want to be like the rest of them? Do you know what he's planning to--crap!" She realized her mistake a fraction of a second too late and spun back around, but Ethan already had the sleep ray out and was holding down the trigger, spraying the beam wildly without even caring what he hit just so long as Patient Four was included. She tried to return fire, but the blue ray was already playing across her midsection, and her shot went wild as the Weapon slipped from her nerveless fingers. She turned back to Pamela again as her legs gave out, sprawling loosely onto the bed. She mumbled something out that Ethan didn't catch before she went completely limp and slid back down onto the floor. Ethan walked over to her and very carefully pulled the Weapon out from under her body. "What did she say?" he asked. Pamela looked a little shell-shocked. "She asked why I warned you," she said. "Oh," Ethan replied. He thought about asking that himself, but decided against it. The look on her face suggested that maybe she wasn't sure herself. SIX WEEKS LATER... "I am perfectly obedient, Master," the redheaded woman sighed out. She massaged her massive tits as she spoke, tweaking and pinching the bare nipples until they stood stiff and erect. "I live to serve your will." Ethan let out a vast sigh of relief. "I think that's done it," he said to Pamela. "It took seven full blasts to finally reduce her to a drone, and it sure as heck sounded like she was enjoying every minute of it. What do you think?" Pamela withdrew her hand from between her sticky, damp thighs. "Um..." she said. After a few moments more, her eyes finally refocused. "Yeah," she squeaked out. She coughed a few times, forcing her voice back to normality. "Yeah, I think that's what I had in mind." She looked around the room. "What do you plan to do with the others?" Ethan looked at the sixteen other women kneeling on the floor, each of them holding their tits in a pose of vacant supplication. "Dunno," he said. "I mean, I can send them back to do what they were already doing, but...they'll just be going through the motions, you know? Deep down, they're my obedient sex slaves and they always will be." "Seems kind of a waste to throw back Shaundra and Kimmi," Pamela said absently. Ethan shot her a look. "What?" she shot back, defensively. "I'm bi, they're exactly my type, and if I'm going to be a part of a foursome, I want to make sure you keep the hot ones." "I hadn't really planned on a harem..." Ethan said, a little uncertainly. "Sex is what happens while you're making other plans," Pamela said lightly. "Trust me, you'll love it. A little variety, a lot more help around the lab, and a non-stop lesbian floor show when you're between orgasms." She shrugged a little, her arms by now practiced at gesturing in the restraints. "I think about this a lot." Ethan smiled indulgently. "I know. It's what attracted me to you, remember?" He gestured with the Weapon. "So, um...it'll take seven doses to permanently enslave you. Completely, I mean. Like them. I was thinking maybe one a day? Does that sound good to you?" Pamela smiled back indulgently. "That's entirely up to you," she said in a husky purr. "I'm your helpless prisoner, remember? Bound to resist your insidious power for as long as I can." Ethan nodded. "Right. So." He lifted the Weapon and aimed it at her. "...are you sure?" "Am I sure?" Pamela fixed him with a steady gaze. "I told you, it's not up to me. You're the Master, remember?" "Yeah." Ethan steadied the Weapon, but he couldn't quite make himself pull the trigger. "I was just thinking...that, y'know, I mean...we've been doing this for a while now, and it's been nice having someone to share this with. A partner, you know? I kinda like...I mean, I still like the thought of you as a drone, but I...thought we could maybe wait a little. I thought maybe you might...y'know. Like me. A little." Mentally, he kicked himself. He'd been rehearsing the speech in his head for a week, and this was what came out of his mouth? "I do, Ethan," Pamela said tenderly. "This has been nice for me, too. But..." She looked down at her lap. "This is what I've wanted for as long as I can remember. I can't be around them, knowing that they're experiencing it, knowing how perfect it is for them, knowing that I could have it any time if only you used the Weapon on me...it would tear us apart, Ethan. I'd have to leave, and you'd have to use the Weapon anyway to get me to stay. I'd rather do it now. As an act of love." She looked up and grinned. "Kinky, perverse love." Ethan looked back at her, his eyes filled with joyful tears. "Okay," he said. He steadied the gun one last time and summoned up a bit of his old swagger. "Seven shots, then. Try and resist all you want, love. You will be mine." "Never," Pamela said, her every word a whisper of seduction. "I'll fight you. You'll never break my will." "Oh, but we both know," Ethan said tenderly, "as much as you try to deny it...this is what you really want." He pulled the trigger. THE END Zapping This story is fictional, though obviously inspired by reality. Many thanks to the editor for their good and important comments and feedback. Please note that the story is in English, but some of the dialogue is French. ------------------------------------------- I ran into Rachel in the Gare du Nord, literally walked into her. She was buzzing along at her normal speed. "Alex!" she said and flicked the hair from her eyes. "Comment tu vas?" I was genuinely happy to see her, "Tu es en train de courir quelques part?" "Non, je rentre au boulot. Mais qu'est-que tu fais ici, j'ai pensé que tu as déménagé a Londres." "Oui, c'est vrai," I answered, gesturing to the big departures board, "J'étais à Paris pour quelques meetings. J'aurai mon train dans moins de deux heurs." "On prend un café donc." She linked my arm in hers and led me out. We sat in the fancy brasserie across the Gare, talking about old times. She was such a huge crush some years ago; it was a bit odd sitting with her like that. She was still as sexy as ever. Her elfin features and short cut black hair still made her look like a Disney fairy, but experienced taught me she was more of a mischievous spirit. "Ça te plait, Londres?" she asked and lit a cigarette. "Pas sur ..." I answered, "C'est assez dur comme ville. Et Paris me manque ..." She gave me a compassionate look and placed her hand on my wrist. I smiled back. I looked outside, the window pane reflected her to me. "Et comment va Laurent?" She blew smoke thoughtfully and said, "Oh il va bien, mais on n'est plus ensemble; on s'est séparé il y a quelques mois." "Merde, désolé," I struggled not to grin. She looked at me with clear mockery. Fuck, she was so hot. We sat quietly for a few moments grinning at each other like two old crooks finding themselves sharing the same prison cell. "Tu as assez du temps?" she asked almost inaudibly. I nodded. No hesitation. "Un hôtel?" she suggested. I looked at the station's impressive façade and the many hotels along the boulevard. Great for businessmen or American tourists, but not really suited for a quickie. I scowled, "Je ne pense pas qu'on trouvera ici des hôtels pour un heur." "Tu veux essayer ...?" I nodded to the stairs leading to the toilets. She didn't seem enthusiastic, made a nasty face. This was serious stuff; I was getting really worried that this amazing opportunity might just slip away. I scanned the street struggling to find a magic solution. Then it hit me. I leaned forward and asked in a low voice. "Est-que tu as jamais allé dans un de ces sex-shops?" She looked at me puzzled and intrigued. Her eyes slide across until she saw the shining lights of sex -shops, all red and blue: "XXX", "video cabines", "1 Euro", "Zapping". "Non ..." she answered, looking back at me with amusement, "pourquoi?" "Hmmm ..." I said coyly, "ils ont des petites pièces, des cabines, tu sais, avec une télévision and canapé, pour regarder des films ..." She smiled at me, "Tu es allé souvent?" I shrugged, "Plusieurs fois, pas souvent." "Allons-y." She stood up and crushed her cigarette in the astray. We lingered outside the sex-shop for some minutes doubting ourselves, but then gathered up our courage and stepped in. We brushed through the curtains that were shielding the inside from the world and found ourselves in a rather big and well lit space. Rows of DVDs and sex toys were racked on the walls and display tables, buxom naked girls stared down on us from porn films posters and a Chinese man behind the counter gave us a nonchalant look. There were no other customers. We walked around the display like kids in a sweetshop. The DVD all looked pretty similar, a naked girl or more posing on the front, and snaps of hardcore porn at the back with immensely stupid blurb. The gay porn was exactly the same, except no girls. Films were strangely organised according to genre, language or country of production. "Genre" is somewhat of an exaggeration, as the films could just as well be said to be organised according to main body parts: anal, big breasts ... or age: matures, housewives, teens ... In the darker corners, the more extreme and perverse sections of the shop hid. This was the niche sections of bondage, bestiality and scat ... We both skimmed these quickly and turned away in disapproval, comforted in our moral strength and purity. Slowly, after Rachel finished inspecting the various dildos and strap-ons, and I the cool porno-comics, we drifted towards the back of the shop, where a sly arrow pointed to "Zapping – 2 Euro 5 Min". We found ourselves in a long corridor with numbered doors on each side. On top of each door a red small light, like a studio. Most of the cabins must have been empty, as only a couple of the lights were lit. We walked to the very end, facing number 15. I looked at Rachel, she seemed worried, preoccupied but excited. I opened the door and we both went in. The cabin was very small and dark; it was less than two metres wide and maybe three metres long. On one end there was a low, well worn-out sofa and facing it, a very large TV screen on which stood a second, smaller screen. A large, strange remote control was set in arm of the sofa. The room smelled of cleaning materials. I took out four 2 euro coins and fed them to the slot. Immediately, the two screens sprang to life and loud moans filled the room. A blonde, eastern European looking, girl appeared on the screen and was giving two very large cocks a hand job simultaneously while another girl was going down on her. The smaller screen split into four smaller images showing different films. "Wow," said Rachel. I lowered the volume on the control panel and looked at her taking in the hard porn. She seemed transfixed. "Tu peux choisir les chaines normalement," I said, pointing to the remote, "mais tu peux aussi choisir sur ceux dans le petit écran," I added and clicked on the A button. The image on the main screen changed to show a black girl, with huge tits, riding a man cowgirl style. Rachel stared at the screen for a few moments, and then changed the channel to show a cock ramming inside a pussy on extreme close-in, and then again to show group of hairy men taking turns fucking a twink strapped to a table. "Ils s'ont même le porno gay," she said dreamingly. "Huh-uh," I scanned the image, "et pire ..." I said as I started necking her. We slid down to sit on the sofa as my mouth was covering her neck with kisses and sucks. Rachel's hands started caressing my back and her crotch. Soon, my hands grabbed her perky tits and I massaged them through the shirt. I knew she was watching the porn intently and occasionally switching channels. We were both clearly getting excited very quickly. After some minutes, she decided to pull out my cock and to start jerking me. I responded by slipping a hand under her shirt and pinching a nipple. My other hand went down and started rubbing her jeans; her soft murmur was almost inaudible in the cacophony of moans that filled the cabin. "Ahh oui ..." she whispered in my ear as I started undoing her trousers and slipped a finger between her pants and the moist hair surrounding her cunt. I turned my head to look at the screen. It showed a teenager girl taken by two older men in the woods. One of them was fucking her from behind and the other in her mouth, they were moaning in German. Rachel was licking my neck and I pushed my finger further down, feeling the wetness of her upper lips. We kissed. We went on with this heavy petting until she grabbed my cock and told me to stand. My penis was now fully erect, but not yet completely hard. Rachel looked at me straight in my eyes and started licking the tip of the head. A shudder went through me. "Tu aime ça, huh?" she said, "Ça fait un moment que tu rêve de ça ..." "Oui," I said. This was a dream come true, though in a strange way. She started sucking and licking me passionately and I switched my gaze from looking at her head bobbing up and down my cock to the action on the screen. I reached over and changed the channel to show another blonde getting her arse fucked on a sofa in some Hollywood mansion. Rachel sucked me hard and tried to get my entire shaft inside her mouth. Her other hand was rubbing her pussy fast. I swallowed my spit as my mouth felt dry. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. We both froze. "Seulement une personne par cabine!" said an angry voice from outside. She looked at me panicked, but I was prepared. I gestured her away and pulled a twenty euro note. I opened the door to a slit and pushed it out, wriggling it. It was taken. I shut the door and put some more coins in the machine. Rachel smiled at me impressed. "Tu as jamais fait ca avant?" she asked bewildered. "Première fois, je jure," I protested, "Au moins premier fois avec une autre personne ..." "Tu es un peu pervers ..." "Viens-la," I said and pulled her up. We stood together, kissing, her hand on my prick and me unbuckling her belt and pushing down her jeans and panties to her knees. Then I sat down and lowered her ass into my erect penis. My cock found her wet snatch and she slowly impaled herself on me. She was tight, because her legs weren't really spread, but the weight pushed her down until I was buried fully inside her pussy. Rachel was now facing the screen and the joint action of her jumping on my cock and the visuals really got her excited. She zapped the channels until she found something she really liked, but I couldn't really see it as I was staring into her back and ass. She leaned forward, bouncing her bottom on me, and I could catch glimpse of some lesbian action. The cabin filled with the sounds of her flesh smacking me together with the French girls on the screen playing with each other. I grabbed her waist, she was so skinny I could hold her pelvis bone, and jerked her up and down fast on me. We were fucking at full speed as she continued to rub herself. "Baise-moi!" she yelled, louder than the screen, as a first orgasm shook her body. I increased the pace, delighting in her ecstasy. I managed to glimpse at the TV set, and could actually see her reflection mixed with the images, it was very hot. Rachel panted and changed the channel, now it was a threesome with a tranny. From what I could see the tranny was arse fucking the guy whilst his girlfriend was giving him head. It made me harder; I felt I wasn't far from coming. "Regarde ça ..." she said between pants. "Ça te plait?" I said, concentrating on not coming. "Ouais, c'est très sexy." "On devrait l'essayer un jour ..." I muttered. Instead of responding she pushed back, flattening me against her back. My hand grabbed underneath her clothes and found her nipples again. They were hard and pointy. With my other hand I managed to press the C button and the image changed to show a girl riding a big cock in her arse in reverse. The girl had big breasts and the smashed them one against the other as she bounced on the prick. This gave me an idea. I stuck my thumb in my mouth to get it wet and then pushed it up her arsehole. It plugged her like a cork. "Ohh ..." she shuddered. "Tu aimes ça? Tu aimes avoir une doit dans ton cul?" "Oui ..." she moaned, "fonce ton doit dans mon cul." I was all too happy to comply, my long thumb was making way inside her anus at the same time that my cock was deep in her cunt; I felt like I was fucking her with two dicks. Her anus was now relaxed enough for the next step. I pushed her up, completely away from my penis, and set her down again, this time impaling her in her ass. "Oh, oh ... mon dieu ..." she panted as the cock, lubricated with her pussy juices, penetrated her behind. With my hands on her ass cheeks and navigated her descent into my prick, the tight hole slowly giving way to the pressure until I was deep inside her. I let go and she collapsed further, my cock completely buried in her ass. It was a delicate moment and neither of us moved, I was concentrating hard on the amazing sensation of her tight ass and she on relaxing her muscles and feeling the pleasure behind the pain. Slowly, she began to move her ass in little circles, as I started bouncing up and down on the sofa. On the screen, the girl's asshole was completely ravaged, and the man fucking her, now doggy style, left it gaping. "Vas-y ... encule-moi ..." she told me. Rachel and I were now fully absorbed in our own debauchery to notice the screen. As our rhythm increased I started feeling again the pressure building up in my scrotum. Rachel was playing with herself again, until she started coming violently. I could hold much longer and pushed her fast up and down onto me. "Oui, oui ... maintenant ..." she gasped as she felt I started coming too. "Merrredddeee ..." I moaned as I began pumping cum into her arse, "ohhh oui ..." She used all her weight and came fully down on me, burying me to the hilt as I continued to orgasm. My palms squeezed her waist with force, feeling the climax spreading through my lower brain. I leant my forehead on her back, just between her shoulder blades, and closed my eyes as the joy took me. I could hear the heavy fucking noises from the screen, but also Rachel's own heart beats and my own. After a minute we regained ourselves. The couple on the screen was still full speed at it, but we didn't care. Slowly, she uncorked herself from me and grabbed some of the paper tissues placed in the cabin by the considerate management. She wiped her arse, collecting the sperm oozing out, and handing me some tissues to clean myself. With some difficulty, I stood up and wiped my cock from the different liquids. We wiped and rearranged ourselves for a bit, pulling up clothes and putting back organs into their place. The time meter showed we only had 3 minutes left. "On y va?" I asked. She looked at me, I leaned to her and we kissed. "Non," she answered, "vas-y toi, j'ai envie de rester un peu plus." I looked at her, she smiled back. "C'était génial, appeles-moi la prochaine fois que tu es en ville." I kissed her again; then I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out another 2 euro piece. I placed it in her palm and went out.