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Alone in Space

By: Falcinator



Author's Note:

This is a story of the frustrations presented by new, but also predictable, circumstances, and the means of alleviating, or at least dealing, with them. 

It is, however, almost certainly pointless. Therefore, in the immortal words of Mark Twain:

"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. By Order of the Author."

On the other hand, it contains a naked woman and several metal things, some of them potentially fiendishly complicated, although, to tell the truth, it's not particularly erotic.

* * * * *

Alone in Space 

Or: In Space, Nobody Can Hear You Moan

Nobody can hear you scream in space.

Nobody can hear you moan, either.

Or gasp, whimper, or sob. 

Or complain, bitch, or whine.

In space, you are more alone than any human being ever had a chance to be, before travel between the stars became a commonplace thing. No hermit, recluse or solo explorer was every more than half the circumference of a planet away from other human beings, no matter how far they tried to run. They could escape detection, avoid a hunt and even request to be left alone, but they were breathing the same air that other human beings were breathing, under the same sky and on the same ball of dust and dirt and rock. 

The early days of space travel? Not a chance. If you weren't cooped up so tightly with others that privacy was merely a nostalgic dream, you were unconscious for most of the duration, not truly alone because you weren't awake to appreciate it, not far from others because they were merely an arm's reach away.

No.

It wasn't until spacecraft grew reliable and fast, until commercial pressures meant that solo pilots were requested, did mankind truly know the meaning of "alone". Not until the distances were covered while conscious did human beings get to fully appreciate what those distances really were. Not until the nearest warm, living and breathing bodies were parsecs away, not miles, did loneliness really start to bite.

The Wolfhound floated alone in its own little bubble of rarefied space, not even properly connected by physics to any other little bubble of inhabited space, and so far removed from them that it might not even be recognizable humans who picked up a distress call even if Jade felt the desire to send one. She sometimes even wondered why they bothered teaching her the S.O.S. in morse code. If anybody was close enough to rescue her, they wouldn't need an S.O.S. coming over the radio to realise that she needed rescuing. 

But there was no need to worry: All she had to worry about was her sanity. All she lacked was company. All she really needed, even in this tin box with its unchanging array of books and old movies and infuriating board games to play against the computer, was a man.

Instead, she had to make do with her imagination. Her imagination, and her toys. To be perfectly accurate, she didn't care about her imagination: It had grown too often jaded. She preferred a good video instead, but the morality that gave mechanical masturbation toys to long-haul travelers forbade actual pornography, so she was stuck with her imagination. 

After a month in space, she didn't care any more and didn't need to prompt herself. The mere fact of being awake was enough, in a little world without space to roam or stimuli to keep the mind from melting under its own boredom. So twice a day she headed from her regulated monitoring session in the cockpit, down the only corridor on the ship's inhabited space, past her sleeping quarters (a bunk just high enough to roll out of without risk of hitting the edges, set into the wall above and below storage cupboards) and into the gymnasium.

The gymnasium wouldn't be there at all if the health problems of not exercising in zero gravity hadn't been so photogenic: The space was so badly needed for cargo.

The inside of the ship was full of rounded corners, handholds and straps, through which Jade moved with the effortless speed and dexterity of mind-numbingly endless practice, ricocheting off the walls and snatching last-second at handholds, swinging herself around with shoulder muscles quivering from the strain, moving from the snug cockpit, through the cramped corridor and into the carefully constructed gymnasium with what an outsider might have termed reckless abandon, or about three seconds.

She let herself continue once she entered, turning at the last moment to land hip-and-shoulder against the opposite wall. She rebounded gently, and started to drift back the way she had come. In the meantime, the vague lighting that permeated the ship had increased, detecting her presence in the cabin, as the lighting coming through the door dimmed to the level of an emergency background.

To call this room a "gymnasium" was misleading, but worked. It was really the only suitable name left. This room, with its gently padded, almost featureless off-white walls, served the purposes of exercise. Sleeping was in her bunk, which also cleaned her and emptied her and could cocoon her in the event of an emergency. Reading or watching the endless, pointless, humorless videos stored in the ships' mass-produced memory banks occurred in the cockpit where the pilot could be on hand if needed. Needed for what, Jade was never quite sure. If the ship couldn't handle it automatically, the chances of her being able to do anything in the time available were as remote as the nearest inhabited planet.

So in this room she exercised, strapped into machines that stretched, pulled, pushed, massaged and resisted an almost complete range of human motion, often without the active participation of the person using them. This kept her bones dense in weightlessness, her muscles strong and her joints stable and healthy. In space, this just gave her the energy and the exercise to be bored and restless all the time, but once she made planet-fall, on worlds where the gravity could go up to 1.4G(Earth), it was vital. So no pilot was allowed to let their bones or musculature atrophy. The health insurance claims alone made sure of that.

As Jade floated away from the wall she had collided against, she kicked off her shipboard-shoes, the laces never done up as tightly as regulations demanded, and stripped herself of her uniform, avoiding the graceless tumbling and struggling that had plagued her first days in space, moving quickly and efficiently so that she could be naked before she reached the doorway again.

This gave her little time: The room was not just empty of all equipment, a featureless box, but surprisingly small as well.

She was wearing a snug, elasticized one-piece jump-suit with a zipper up the front. There was no loose fabric that could catch on equipment or get in the way, and being one-piece, the uniform kept itself from riding down, up or anywhere else.

As Jade pulled the material back from her chest and off her shoulders, it revealed a hard, corded physique created by a combination of regulated exercise (besides, what else is there to do except tire yourself out?) and adequate but not generous rations. Her breasts rode high on her chest, firm enough not to float in free-fall, small enough to make her look boyish. Her nipples, by contrast, were surprisingly large, the aureoles covering more than a third of the breast's surface, her nipples fleshy and large already, although still soft. Given a generous diet, a relaxed lifestyle and less testosterone-pumping exercise, the rest of her breasts may have looked like that.

Her arms were wiry, her torso devoid of spare flesh, her belly flat and firm with the faint suggestion of her abdominal muscles even when relaxed. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves of the jumpsuit and pushed it down off her equally well defined hips, sliding over brief panties worn for hygiene, not habit, and on down over hard thighs and tight calves. 

The suit floated out and down the corridor, to be snagged and held by the ship's utilitarian cleaning utilities, as Jade gently bumped into the wall near the door. A touch of a button made the door, also padded, close with a faint squeal. The squeal had developed five days into this trip, and was beginning to set her teeth on edge.

Another touch on a button and a synthesized voice started to read out a standard health warning along the lines of "This equipment was not intended to be used in any way contrary to the operating manual and any injury or damage resulting from such use..." The actual script was tortuously long, and although Jade could recite it almost verbatim - pilots were occasionally tested to see if they were paying attention - she had long ago stopped actually paying attention to any of it. 

She was too busy waiting for it to finish, because when the voice finished the machinery awoke.

To Jade, the movements of the machines were balletic in their beauty.

As the door through which she had opened closed and the temperature slowly rose from bearable to warm, the far wall opened, splitting along lines barely visible in the ubiquitous ship-board gray padding, splitting into four, two sections pivoting into the room, two sections tilting back into the revealed space behind, making room for a chair to slide out into the room, running on its substantial base along tracks in the floor, each of them just barely revealed by the padding, until it stopped in the dead centre of the room. 

Through the opened panels other machines could be seen, machines to stretch or compress or resist her, to vibrate her bones to encourage their growth, or to massage her muscles to encourage their tone, machines gleaming, machines black silver, machines black, machines colored, seen faintly in half-glimpses as the ballet was played out.

Abruptly they came forwards, collections of arms, a bewildering range of sizes, thicknesses and numbers of joints, with a bewildering array of tips, some recognizable, some not, some vaguely familiar but still puzzling. 

Two groups came forth, swarming out along their tracks in rows like ants from a nest, one across what habit was programmed to call the floor, one across what must therefore be the ceiling. Jade loved all of them.

The machinery arranged itself, rushing through the air to cluster around the base of the chair, or to attach themselves to a boss that appeared to spring, sliding so stealthily in front of its gaudy companions, from the dead centre of the ceiling, above the chair. The boss shifted, growing legs, each running along a track until, carrying its attached brothers and sisters, it had lowered itself until just above the chair.

As she watched the sculpture grow, reaching down lovingly to match the cluster of arms now rising from the base of the chair, Jade felt herself, finally, grow damp enough to match her frustration. "My toys," she crooned, her voice falling dead into the padded space but raising anticipatory echos off the hard steel and chrome in front of her. Her fingers, not waiting, crept down to her damp cunt, stroking it lovingly, raising a thrill that tingled all the way to her expanding nipples. 

With a final click and a confirmatory beep, the equipment was ready. Trying not to rush herself too much, Jade pushed off the wall and floated towards it. The first time she had seen this equipment in its full configuration she had been frightened by the malevolence of it, but now she knew that it was friendly and welcoming.

Now she swam eagerly into its net, giving herself up to the cool touch of its metal embrace. 

The chair was the one constant in this room, tilting or swiveling and reshaping itself to be an exercise bench, vibrating massage chair, induced-meditation couch, or bondage seat.

With no induced gravity, just the way Jade liked it, the angle of the chair hardly mattered, but it reclined itself anyway. As Jade drifted backwards into it, her back and buttocks contacted hard, very slightly padded surfaces molded to her body. Her head nestled back into a cradle that folded itself around her naked skull, pressing contacts in the chair onto contacts implanted in her scalp, and wrapping a sensor-filled collar around her neck. A visor slid down over her eyes and settled snugly into place. She had once hoped that some decent pornography would be piped through what was merely a user interface, but now she just kept the visor semi-transparent so that she could see what the machinery was doing to her. 

Two tall arms folded down over her shoulders, pinning them securely in place. A wide mesh belt, wrapped itself sinuously around her waist and tightened against her lean, toned abs, the final essential restraint for zero-gee.

Her thighs dropped onto two curved supports that, when they sensed her weight, spread wide, stretching her deliciously to nearly the limit of her flexibility. Her calves settled onto two curved extensions of the thigh supports and her feet dropped onto plates. When her feet made contact, two more webbed belts wrapped themselves around her ankles and held her legs tight. 

Her arms also dropped onto supports, but these were flat and under her left hand was a control pad, a rocker switch under each finger and a small joystick under her thumb. Then there was stillness and she licked her lips, her hips squirming with anticipation, her belly tightening under the strap.

She licked her lips again, suddenly undecided about what she would actually do, the goggles painting a picture of her body on her retinas, an outline drawing of herself in the chair, glowing bands denoting bonds, bright spots of light pointing out options. Time and again, she grew damp and weak just looking at the possibilities.

She pressed the most obvious button, and between her thighs rose, on its own arm, a meaty dildo studded with small balls all over its shaft and completely covered in a teflon-coated transparent artificial skin. In the head of the dildo was a realistic eye, and from it oozed its own pre-cum in the form of simple lubricant.

Up between her thighs swung too a closed speculum that guided itself unerringly into place, sliding between the now puffy lips of her cunt and then opening like a flower, spreading her wide for the entry of the dildo before then withdrawing, separating around the shaft and dropping back out of sight.

Jade was never quite sure which felt better; the spreading of her lips in anticipation, or when they closed around the fat head between them.

She definitely knew that neither sensation felt half as good as when the shaft slid smoothly inside her, bottoming out, making her head collapse backwards and her eyelids flutter closed, a long "Oooh..." pushed out of her throat as the dildo pushed inside her.

Her fingers, no longer undecided, stabbed again at the controls. A bifurcated arm descended from the ceiling, fat enough to be hollow. On the end of each of its branching sections was a long cylinder with a spreading, cupped end.

The cups fit one each over her aureoles and sealed, fitting her now long, hard nipples snugly inside the cylinders. With a slight hiss the seal was tested and found good, then vacuum was steadily applied until her nipples were distended. At the same time, a bladder inside the tubes contracted, squeezing like a milking machine.

Her moan managed to bounce off even these padded walls.

As the suction released and then grabbed again, settling down into a steady pulsing, the dildo between her legs withdrew nearly to its limit, then plunged within again.

Clutching the armrests, every muscle of her body shuddering, she flicked a button that caused padded restraints to whip around her wrists and tighten snugly. 

The collar around her neck and the plugs in her scalp recorded her arousal via clinical measurement of blood pressure and pulse rate, levels of adrenaline and estrogen and testosterone, and neurotransmitters she didn't even know the names of. 

Slowly, obeying her instructions to make it last just a little longer than necessary, the dildo and the pressure pump adjusted themselves to the rhythms of her body.

No matter how many times she sat strapped in this chair - twice a day for months on end - she never got tired of the clinically perfect way it manipulated her arousal and used inhuman stimulation to give her more arousal than any human ever could. 

Jade was not a nymphomaniac - she would never have been given this job if she was - but this chair always made her feel like one.

She started to plateau, sweat sheening her skin, and the chair responded by slowing the pace, no less steady but less likely to exhaust her human body. The pumps began to vary their behavior then, pulling and then holding, or pulling and then hesitating, then pulling slowly more, taking her just to the edge of pain but no further.

She arched against her restraints, straining every muscle until it quivered, gasping in delight. 

It was a battle, now, between her self-control that wanted to extend this tireless assault on her senses until it eclipsed everything else and the world grew gray, and her need for release that demanded climax /now/.

Her hands on the controls quivered, and there blinked in her vision, projected by the visor, a schematic of those controls, one among all the options left unused taunting her as the dildo slid in and out, ejecting a little more lubricant when it needed to, the pumps on her nipples pulling and squeezing again and again, until her finger stabbed downwards.

The display flickered, and she stabbed again, frenzied now that the decision had been made, no longer able to deal with the frustration of delay.

Next to her right thigh, delicate and gleaming, arched a final arm, tipped with a bulbous swelling, the swelling terminating in a delicate, long pair of jaws, the jaws lined with ridged rubber.

The jaws swayed backwards, turned, rotated, and dipped unerringly towards the top of her dildo-distended pussy, as if daintily sniffing, starting at her gaping hole, tracing up without quite touching her flesh between her parted, swollen lips, pausing for just one second above her small, swollen nub of clitoris as it was pulled back and forth by the action of the dildo.

The jaws opened, dipped, closed neatly around her clitoris, squeezed gently as her body convulsed against the restraints, backed off as the sensors in her skull reported pleasure turning to pain, then started to vibrate.

Suddenly, making it last was no longer an option. Within minutes, she was screaming through her orgasm.

She refused to let herself turn anything off, her fingers writing on their rests, her arms jerking as she tried, just this once, to eek out a second climax before the first had finished.

Once again, all she managed to do was scream as the pleasure grew so much that it turned to pain, the machinery whipping back, the delicate jaws poised high above her cunt as the dildo stopped then slowly withdrew, leaving her moaning in frustration at her own body's limitations.

With a polite beep, a message flashed on the inside of her goggles: Your alloted time is up. You will now return to the control centre.

In Jade's head, a small clock began a countdown to the next time she could come and sit in this chair. It always started at far too high a number.

Alone in Space Ch. 02



Alone In Space 2: Evil Machines

Author's Note:

If there hadn't been positive (and amused (and amusing)) comments left after the publication of the first of these stories, there never would have been a second. "Alone In Space, Or: In Space Nobody Can Hear You Moan" was never meant to be more than a vignette, a single solitary tale standing all on its own and never to be followed up or tied in to any other, inspired by a single picture found on a Hentai web site and written because I was having trouble writing two other tales that I actually cared about.

But then you bastards wanted more. 

So here it is. 

And, if I may say so (and, being the author, I think I may) it's even more pointless than the last one, and written even faster, with even less attention paid to quality. This story will have NO character development, it will have NO storyline development beyond the barest minimal necessary to justify a different scene (I'm justifying? Fuck that!) and there will be NO point of any sort save to explicitly and violently sexually abuse a lean, lonely, psychologically questionable woman, using a variety of machinery over which she chooses to relinquish control.

There, I've said it. Anybody attempting to find a moral with this story won't just be shot, but Satan will use their intestines for condoms. By order of the author.

Oh, and in case you were wondering: This story also gains inspiration from a Hogtied.com model named Shannon. But only in the barest minimal sense.

A final warning: This is deliberately brutal and may shock you, although I suspect that YOU will only enjoy it the more for that. Remember: This situation is consensual, and I have no intention of portraying it as being anything else but her decisions, out of which she could pull at any moment. But hey, sometimes you want to whip, sometimes you want to be whipped.

I'm not even sure if this is physiologically likely, either, so join me in the fantasy that it is.

"Alone In Space 2" Or: "Let The Fuckers Fuck Me"

In the semi-darkness of the Wolfhound, traveling at speeds that old Einstein would have had serious issues with, in a bubble of space that Einstein's mathematics would have wept at trying to explain, a single red light started blinking on the control panel. A message, traveling with scientifically dubious manner through physically dubious space, had managed to intersect the Wolfhound's own bubble of scientifically dubious space and burrow inside it like a sperm into an egg. Or, a better analogy, like a malignant virus into a perfectly happy cell.

The Wolfhound's computers, stupid things at best, occupied so much with astronavigation and maintaining the impossible that there was no capacity left for sentience or even the barest minimal of Bayesian message filtering, decided that the message, by virtue of being a message, was important.

So it acted.

In the total darkness of the single crew's bunk, halfway up the wall of the single corridor that curled around the ship from cockpit to gymnasium, the single crew-member was awakened from a self-hypnosis induced sleep by the bracelet on her left wrist delivering a small electric shock to her normally blameless skin. 

"Sadistic fucks," she muttered into rapidly disappearing darkness as her heartrate slowed, the same thing she always muttered when she was awoken by a message. 

She knew it was a message. A normal crisis would have ejected her forcibly from the bunk and left her floundering in zero-gravity in mid-air delivering a torrent of far worse insults into a psychedelically strobing lightshow and ear-splitting siren. There were no abnormal lights, no sounds and she was still in her bunk. Therefore, it was a message.

Sighing, she pressed a button against the left-hand wall of the bunk, with fingers that still tingled slightly ("Sadistic fucking fucks,") and was ejected smoothly and evenly into the gravity-free corridor whose every turn she knew by heart and hated passionately.

Perversely performing an unnecessarily elegant and time-wasting gymnastic backwards somersault to put her head in the right direction, she reached one long arm out to each side of the corridor and gave the merest of fingertip pushes, sending her drifting slowly down towards the bridge.

The ship, detecting that the message had not yet been read, gave a warning flash of the lights and beeped at her. She gave another infinitesimal push, wondering how far she could push it before it started trying to give her a headache.

Not, it turned out, very far at all. She was already swearing when she skated into the cockpit and halted her flight by ramming the chair with her shoulder, bouncing back and throwing herself into the seat angrily. 

So the contents of the message were not received with equanimity.

"FUCKING CUNTS!"

She thrust herself back out of the chair, delivering a savage kick in passing to the control panel that she could never damage no matter how hard she tried, and whipped around in mid-air, meeting the padded gray bulkhead at the back of the cockpit with the full force of her well-toned arm, delivered via her tightly clenched fist. 

"FUCKING BASTARD CUNTS!"

She attacked the wall again and again with her right fist, bracing herself against the chair, the punches punctuating her screaming, unless it was the other way around.

"FUCKING! BASTARD! FUCKING! CUNTS!"

It had taken a mere two lines on the 60-character message screen to turn her day from annoyed to rage. 

"Dock strike at destination TST1812. Expect delays up to a week. Maintain holding pattern upon arrival."

A week? One more fucking week, when she had been in this claustrophobic, lonely, mind-warpingly boring shell for two months? One more week of being alone when there were people swarming around the Transitory Space Terminal, and even more on the world it serviced? One more week of playing pathetic games of strategy against a computer that was programmed to let her win 75% of all games no matter how little she cared? One more week of watching movies that were idiotic when they had been made but had been chosen for their box-office popularity and just made her horny by showing her an endless string of well-built bodies that couldn't distract her by acting or even showing real sex? 

"FUCKING! BASTARD! FUCKING!"

Although she stood no chance of ever damaging the ship, there was enough rational thought left in her brain to warn her that her hand would be grateful if she stopped, so she drove her elbow into the wall instead.

"CUNTS!"

One more fucking week of being fucked by fucking machines instead of sweaty, smelly, warm-blooded /men/? 

That gave her pause for thought. "If you're going to be fucking with me, I may as well fucking enjoy it!" She snapped at the ear-less, emotionless, unresponsive computer, and flung herself out the door, kicking savagely against the wall to send her on down the corridor, slamming into the outside of corners and kicking with both feet to send her on.

She had enough presence of mind to realise that her impulse to try and rip her uniform off and leave it in shreds, while it would be enormously satisfying, would never be achievable with mere human strength, so she was undoing it as she went, managing to snag it on a handhold and have it peel off her feet as she hurtled around the final corner. 

Her uniform panties went almost as quickly, and she was naked as she hurtled into the cool, dimly lit gymnasium. 

She was going as fast as she had ever gone, but still managed to punch the correct buttons by the door on her way past. The automatic systems, taken by surprise, brought the lights up faster than they were supposed to, and started pumping warm air in to raise the temperature to living-quarter standards. 

Luckily, there was a built-in delay before the walls started opening to disgorge the desired equipment, or her impact against them would have triggered the safety mechanisms, slowing everything down and doing her mental state no good at all.

But the panels were opening as she drifted back from them, chair and ceiling boss and all the lovely, personally impersonal arms sliding out as swiftly as their makers had intended them, the chair today laughingly sinister in Jade's eyes instead of warmly embracing. 

Which was exactly how she wanted it. If the company wanted to fuck her, let them do a decently sadistic job of it.

The pre-recorded, mandatory health warning being read out at the same time sounded sinister too, but was so banal and she had heard it so many times before that she just barely managed to keep most of it out by shoving her palms over her ears, gritting her teeth and staring intently at the growing sculpture of the chair and its hydran arms.

Before even the final component had been locked into place, she had launched herself at it, twisting in mid air with the careless accuracy of long practice so that she impacted buttock-first, back second, without having to move up or down or to either side before the chair, reacting to her presence, whipped the sensory collar around her neck, the restraints over her shoulders and the sensory helmet over her head. The belt around her waist was even quicker, but it was the neck and head attachments to the chair that gave her the deepest of perverted erotic pleasures. She was trapped now, tied in, her body merely an extension of the machine, an experiment, a toy to be played with according to a distant engineer's permanent rules laid down according to a distant physiologist's definitive researches.

Which was bullshit, of course. She could choose to control everything it did, and everything that it didn't do, and usually chose to do more or less that, but today she didn't wish to even consider that possibility, seeing in this enveloping contraption of polished, shining metal and carefully moulded plastics only a manipulative machine mind.

As her ankles were strapped to the legrests, she slapped her wrists down on the arm supports and tapped out a quick code upon the controls under her left hand. The visor had barely settled in place over her eyes before it was flashing demand of recognition of her request. She gave it the recognition it wanted, then repeated the request and entered her authorization code just to make the machine happy. /Let that/, she thought spitefully, /Be the last thing you make me do voluntarily, ogre/.

There were programs built into the chair for those who wanted to use them. Only self-assured, dominant personalities tended to fly these ships, but even so there were programs for those who wanted to have their pleasure given to them instead of taking it for themselves. And some of those programs, to give credit to the semi-liberated times in which they were made, were a little out of the ordinary. In the recesses of Jade's memory, each of those program codes lurked, waiting to be recalled. She had only ever used one of those, and only once, before deciding that relinquishing control was not one of her turnons. 

But the opportunity is always good to have.

With a red flash in her visor, the chair signified that the program had been accepted, and would be executed.

The restraints over her shoulders whipped back with shocking speed, the armrests straightening and then swinging up and back as the chair dropped her, stomach-clenchingly fast, from reclined to horizontal, relative to the room, her legs pulled straight and her wrists brought together above her head. With a sudden jolt, gravity was applied, making the horizontal by convention the horizontal by relative fact.

The belt around her waist tightened, locking her to what was now a couch, before the armrests straightened, pulling her painfully tight, slacking off only just enough to let her joints survive the full run of the program. The legrests spread, stretching her wide until the tendons in her groin screamed with pain, slacking off themselves just barely enough for health reasons. Then the couch humped, thrusting up her hips and her chest, bowing her back, the new gravity that had flattened her small breasts causing them to roll back towards her head as her back was bowed and stretched until she could barely gasp out adequate breaths, everything straining to open her like a flower, exposed brutally and lecherously.

For one split second Jade almost panicked, wondering if this was really what she wanted, if it was really going to make her feel better, but when the chromed, gleaming arms above her quivered, she forgot all about that in a sudden rush of perverted, guilty pleasure to her out-of-sight, defenseless cunt.

It was not the arms she could see that moved first, however. A bar slipped up and over her chin out of her sight, forcing her mouth open. Before she could react, two wide metal loops slipped inside and pulled apart, stretching her lips open and making it impossible for her to swallow the saliva that was already building in her mouth.

Two arms she had never noticed before then plunged down, appearing delicate but tipped with long metal cylinders that slapped the sides of her breasts with startling force, shocking her flesh red and making her gasp through her opened mouth in surprise and the sudden, quickly fading pain. The arms whipped back up again and then descended over her nipples. 

She had marked the similarity of these arms to the "milkers" she knew and loved so much, but the engineers who built this chair do not lightly duplicate any functionality, and these arms clearly had a different purpose. 

As they touched her skin the ends contracted, pinching her nipples brutally, then retracting slightly before the entire cylinders turned so agonizingly cold that condensation dripped onto her breasts. Her nipples expanded so fast that that too hurt, then the cylinders, warming enough not to stay painful but still cold enough to make sure that her nipples stayed just as hard as they were, contracted again, closing around some of the most sensitive flesh in Jade's body so tightly than when the arms pulled up and slightly apart her breasts followed until their nearly flat domed profiles were turned into sharply pointed, almost straight-sided cones and she was making gargling whimpering noises with pain and consenting helplessness.

As her eyes squeezed shut to try and blink out the tears, she felt a narrow greased rod butt against her asshole, bludgeoning itself entrance with an efficient speed that completely hid the care with which it was done.

Her eyes flew wide again in shock. She /never/ liked anal sex, never! But the cylinder buried itself deep in her arse and then began to vibrate nastily, the sensation making her stomach roil but also her pussy clench. For the first time in her life, Jade began to get some idea of how liberating humiliation can be when there is no free will.

She was given five seconds to try and recover her breath in gasps as the pain in her nipples and the foreignness of the vibrator in her ass became a little less impossible to believe before she felt the cool plastic of the speculum jabbed between her shamefully puffy nether lips and spread wider than it ever had before, wider than she was comfortable with or than she could bear without pain.

Anticipation made eagerness war with fear in her battered mind. She always loved the tireless fucking of that dildo, always, but what would this program give her that she could like unconditionally?

As her stomach tried to clench in expectation, she suddenly realised that if she was going to be fucked with that dildo she loved, it would have happened by now. For a brief moment the pain from her stretched body was replaced in her mind with bewilderment, but only for a brief moment.

She felt a familiar pair of rubber-coated metal jaws close around her clitoris gently and vibrate. The familiarity of it made her relax and a delicious warm glow start to spread through her, but when her clit was hard the jaws pinched hard enough to make her scream. The jaws pulled upwards and held her just on the verge of too much pain to concentrate, then she felt, with no warning, /something/ enter her past the limit of the speculum, something bigger than anything that had ever before been inside her. It butted against the limits of her vagina and then settled there. Abruptly, the speculum was withdrawn, making her almost sob with relief but leaving the achingly uncomfortable object, which must be more or less a sphere, inside her. All she could feel of the rest of the arm was a thin shaft passing through her lips.

All at once her mind leaped to a conclusion and, the angrily buzzing vibrator still churning her insides inside her anus, silently begged for the sphere inside her /not/ to start vibrating, please.

For another second nothing changed, the sphere inside her neither vibrating nor making any other kind of movement and for a second she was bewildered until the cap that snugly cradled her head, electronic fingers lovingly plugged into her brain, yanked her head back between her stretched arms, tilting it until her throat was stretched wide open behind the wire gag.

Around the side of the chair-turned-couch-turned-rack, avoiding her held-together arms, reared the smaller of the two available dildos, the one Jade never bothered to use. Her eyes widened as the only available possibility battered against a brain too incredulous to take it seriously despite the evidence in its favor.

Coldly contemptuous of her mind's skepticism, the dildo swung above and behind her head, rotated, and plunged straight down her throat.

Jade was no stranger to fellatio and no stranger to deep-throating, but she did prefer to warm up first and she did prefer to have control of the act. If she had been thinking rationally she would have realized that no program would ever be allowed to cause lasting harm to a user, but rational thought had been shocked out of her, which was of course intentional: If she was thinking rationally, she might not find the program so effective.

The dildo jabbed inside her mouth like a striking viper, unerringly finding her throat. She wasn't quick enough or concentrating enough to realise that it jabbed, withdrew slightly and then jabbed again, fooling her throat into opening to admit it so that it was buried as deep as it could ever comfortably go before she had a chance to accept its penetration. She was not aware either that the gag reflex had been tampered with as an added safety precaution, or even that it withdrew far enough after every thrust to give her a chance to suck a breath.

Unaware, she still chocked, tears springing to her eyes as the dildo started to fuck her throat.

The necessity of holding still, even more obvious now that her throat was being raped as well as her nipples and clitoris extended painfully, made her realise her helplessness so starkly that for the first time she had time to think. 

What hit her was that although she felt humiliated, violated and controlled so utterly that she had no free will left, she hadn't yet found it enjoyable. Wasn't that supposed to be the point? Wasn't the equipment supposed to reject or modify a fixed program if that didn't happen?

It is said that you should never tempt fate. But should fate be seduced to make you helpless in the throes of an orgasm, or merely left to its own devices?

As surprise and consternation were growing in Jade's mind, the sphere sitting painfully large deep inside her woke up.

Convulsing despite the danger, Jade gave a squeal of pain around the dildo which was, at that moment, bottoming out deep down her throat. In the numbing aftermath of the electric shock that had twisted her belly like the kick of a horse, rage flared inside her again.

Then two things happened at once. First, another jolt from the sphere, then the arms attached to her nipples and clitoris jerked, just enough to send another spear of pain through her. 




Alone in Space Ch. 02



Except that this time the pain was mixed with pleasure. Her eyes opened wide in disbelief before another jolt, and this time she felt the aftermath of pleasure even without the abuse of her erectile tissue. It was as though the electric shocks hit the reset button on her body, and turned discomfort, pain and fear into lust and ecstasy.

Without noticing it, too disoriented by the regular body-jolting kicks of the sphere, Jade began to suck with abandon on the dildo that was pistoning tirelessly between her spread lips, and to buck demandingly against the bonds that held her hips down. 

Should one tempt fate?

As she began to suck harder, not quite yet desperately, on the dildo as though it was connected to her clitoris, as though she was hoping to make a lover happy enough to return the favor, she did not see, could not hope to see, the long thin arm that gracefully curved up between her legs, terminating in a long rod that itself terminated, on the end of a tapering neck, with a small spherical tip.

Delicately, with an artiste's effete precision, the tip slid just above the surface of the rod that lead between her puffy lips towards the sphere that was making her convulse once every second, until it found itself just above the surface of those wetly glistening flaps and hung there as another shock twisted her. 

With a lightning-like stab downwards, the new sphere tapped against her wet, highly conductive flesh and the rhythm she had been forced to adapt to was broken, not in time but in location, one second a shock deep inside her that made her womb clench in a simulated orgasm that pushed her slightly closer each time to a real one, the next second the shock came to her lips and traveled up and down, her asshole clenching and her clitoris, still stretched, feeling as though a vibrator had been slapped into it.

Then again deep inside her before she could recover, then again to her helpless pussy lips, then deep inside... 

With each electric bolt that hit her, her tortured body felt it closer to a cock's hard thrust or hard tongue's lick. Her legs, stretched wide, began to shiver as though her ankles were held by men, not machines. Her cunt, even where stretched beyond discomfort to pain, began to clench as though the shaft running through it were thicker and warm and fleshy.

The dildo in her mouth, although it did not change in speed or depth or rhythm, suddenly became the centre of her universe as her mind fled from the sensations abusing her from the nipples down. She couldn't suck with the shaft pushing down her gullet with every thrust, but she tried to swallow and she worked it with teeth and lips and tongue as hard and desperately as she had ever worked on any lover.

Pushed beyond humiliation and abuse to lust and need, her body was soon also pushed, by electric jolts every two seconds to an achingly stretched clitoris, beyond arousal to orgasm.

The next jolt inside her made her entire body explode, but with her entire body stretched so tight that even the muscles inside her could barely move, the orgasm that ripped through her rebounded from tendons stretched almost to breaking point and tore back through her womb, doubled and then redoubled until her nerves gave out, pushed beyond replete to exhausted.

When she collapsed, she started sobbing as the dildo withdrew, barely noticing as her nipples and her clit were slowly released, the tension relaxing gently enough not to cause more pain and then the delicate tissue released with an anesthetic balm left beyond. She didn't notice at all as the speculum aided in the withdrawal of the sphere deep within her or the vibrator in her ass slid smoothly out, but as her limbs were slowly relaxed she began to notice their absence.

She couldn't believe what had just happened to her. She had never used that program before and may never use it again, but she had never felt so replete, so cathartically cleansed, so completely fucked.



Alone in Space Ch. 03



Author's Note:

Note for the uninitiated: The purpose of the AIS series is sex, and no frills. There will be No Character Development, No Real Plot Lines and No Moral Justification. There just Will Be Sex.

I promised myself after writing the first "Alone In Space, Or: In Space, Nobody Can Hear You Moan" that there would never be a second. Then I wrote a second due to popular demand (well, three people said they liked it), so here's the third, because I may as well go with the flow. 

Technically, this is no longer an Alone, and less of the In Space, but it was suggested by number 2, subtitled "Let The Fuckers Fuck Me", and I decided that maybe some human interaction was just what her pussy needed. Besides, I was running out of distinct ideas. So there's no machinery in this one, just a machinist. Of course, having written this Note before the actual story, I might still change my mind...

=========

"Alone In Space 3" Or: "No Longer Alone"

Every minute of a pilot's day is divided up for them by experts (technical term: "Cunts") who have never set foot in space themselves, never encountered weightlessness, and never even been in a stuck lift. But they have their charts, and their diagrams, and their theories, and their big fat books on Ergonomics, and their research and, more importantly so far as the pilots, who would otherwise just read their instructions and put on serious faces and hold up their hands and swear an oath to uphold them and then ignore them, were concerned, they had access to the computer programmers. 

So, every minute of a pilot's day is divided up for them by experts. There are leeways, of course. Concessions have been made for the fact that not everybody takes the same amount of time on the toilet, for instance, and not everybody reads or processes data at the exact same, to the millisecond, rate, and not everybody has the exact same musculature or nervous system. 

But, in essence, every minute of a pilot's day is divided up for them by experts. 

But it's hard to follow sometimes. When you're awake, for instance. And when you're so close to a Station that you can practically feel the open spaces and smell other people's sweat already.

Those are the times when the electronic books and movies play on by themselves in the background and the eyes flick hungrily between the screen displaying the chart view, the screen displaying the unaided visual view, the screen displaying the combined (in different colors) active and passive radar view, and the screen displaying the aided visual view, watching the representative dots slowly creep closer at gradually decreasing scales, then the glow of detected mass or emissions, then, finally, the faint speck of light that signifies hope. 

Of course, most of this is undertaken at an acceleration, deceleration this time, gradually ramping up from 0.1G to 1G as the craft is slowed on the approach. When active radar starts picking up something, deceleration is ramped up to 3G. When the aided visual screen starts showing a dot against the darkness, that's usually when deceleration is ramped up to 4G. When the unaided visual screen shows a dot, the pilot is strapped in as deceleration moves all over the place under automatic control as the computer in the ship is slaved to the (a) computer in the Station, and the computer in the Station tries to jockey forces and masses and energies and other masses and get the ship to mate smoothly, safely and without causing major structural damage to the Station itself, without at any time the exhaust jets of deceleration causing damage to anyone else either.

Most pilots are quite prepared to let the computers do that. But none of them are happy with the gradual increase to 4G. They'd be quite happy to go from weightless to 4G and just stay there, and save the extra time.

Loneliness is hard to take when you have no choice and humanity is far away from you in any direction you can look, but when the time ticks down and the imagined noises of strangers become almost tangible, tooth-grinding frustration sets in.

It's difficult to grind your teeth under sustained 4G, when you are strapped into the pilot's chair, angled to provide best protection against the force, with an iron lung breathing for you and blood pressure monitors getting paranoid about your well-being, but Jade was managing it. She had been warned by the company Dentist on her last shore leave about that, but didn't really care. Dental care was part of the company's responsibility, along with all other aspects of her health, and as they seemed singularly uninterested in caring about her retirement or life outside work (as little of it as there was), she intended to let them take care of it.

Jade did, however, have one furious thought that never failed to circle her brain when the G-forces rose. Breasts. No matter how well-fitting her flight suit, no matter how supportive the iron lung (she really was encased by metal, that lined her sides and back and front to prevent her torso distorting under pressure) and no matter how small the breasts of a pilot who survives training and the testosterone-pumping exercise that was part of her daily routine may be, breasts get painful when pushed against your chest for hour after hour.

If she came out bruised, she wouldn't be able to enjoy her shore leave as much, would she?

So she never failed to get evil-minded when the Station approached, no matter how attractive its contents might be.

The wait for docking was interminable, the computers programmed for fuel conservation and an almost paranoid level of safety, taking by consequence several times longer than necessary to creep slowly up to the station, check that it was in the right place, dock, check that nothing had gone wrong, connect all life support lines, check that they worked, let each system (Station and ship) check that the other was compatible, open the doors, do a final scan for pathogens or toxins, and then release her.

When she finally got out, she was nearly screaming with boredom, and felt unhinged from frustration. Or was that the other way around? She didn't feel mentally collected enough to decide.

The console spat two sheets of paper at her before she was released, and wouldn't open the door until she had taken them. Which was fine by her. The sooner she got the formalities out of the way, the sooner she could hit the fleshpots. 

Starting, of course, with the formalities. 

The man who met her, to take charge of her cargo, was the usual hard-muscled, wiry and short Station official, able to be agile and quick through tight spaces. Jade, taller than him and far more wiry, slightly unsteady on her feet after so long in zero or near-zero G and feeling her social skills rusty and nearly atrophied after even longer, was still able to see his relief that she was a woman (a horny male pilot was probably more a worry than a disappointment), and his eyes dropping from their natural level near her neck to a more comfortable level near her jumpsuit-hugged breasts. 

Jade wouldn't have minded, but it made her horniness harder to avoid, and that made it difficult to concentrate.

She nearly threw the sheets at him, and he read them with one eye on her prominent nipples and the other for the words on the page. Satisfied with both, he leeringly gestured her ahead of him into his office (a small hole in the corridor, lockable only because the law required the protection of the documents it contained), muttering "Nice ass as well," as she passed.

Coming to an abrupt halt, she shot her hand back and unerringly grabbed his groin, cock half-hard, making him nearly double up with shock, an explosive gasp pushing out the last syllable of the "well". 

"How badly do you want to fuck it?" Jade asked, evenly.

It's /really/ hard to check official documents and sign them legibly, or hold her finger steady long enough for the DNA signature to the taken, when you're being slammed back and forth from behind, but at least he didn't take longer than the paperwork did before shooting up her.

She headed from the docks to the social area, stopping only to find a toilet and get rid of the slime inside her. She didn't want her next man knowing that he wasn't the first since she landed.

No two stations were built quite the same, and there were in fact a couple of competing ideas about the best way in which to build them at all, but for one who had been in more than, say, three, they were never hard to navigate through.

You just had to find the right person to ask.

The right person, as in this case, was usually a harassed, skinny, quite short cleaner. There were some things that were so unexpectedly complicated, and so unexpectedly unexpected, that robots couldn't do them.

There were still shit jobs for the humans.

She found such a man, walked up behind him and said "I need to find naked women fucking poles."

"The Cages Bar," he snapped back before realizing that a woman's voice had asked him. 

"Thank you," Jade said with her best attempt at a charming smile before heading straight for the named spot, her pilot's memory having memorized the Station's modest map already.

The Cages Bar displayed the typically unimaginative, unsubtle, unsuccessful name of all establishments that tried to hide their purpose from the common traffic that walked past all day and knew exactly what was going on inside.

There were men seated at tables in a dim half-gloom, drinking. There were scantily clad, sometimes topless, waitresses walking around delivering more drinks. And on three separate stages, scattered around the end of the room, were three elaborate cages, in each of which was a female dancer dressed in high heels, jeweled and tasseled crotchless G-string and even brighter bra, suspended off the stage on a pole that was slowly dropping from the shrouded ceiling into the floor.

The slowly lowering poles meant that each dancer was climbing up it just as slowly, staying off the floor and using shins, thighs (usually /very/ high up), arms and even, it looked like, breasts, to cling on.

It was a fantastic athletic display from each of them, but Jade wasn't really watching as the poles lowered enough to reveal a thick, studded dildo on the top of each.

What Jade was watching, as each girl seized the pole beneath the dildo, hoisted herself up and then inserted the tip into her cunt, raising her legs to a horizontal split as padded ankle slings descended on chains from the ceiling, and then slid downwards onto the full length of the dildo while holding the split, were the men in the bar.

There had been a ripple of interest as her lean but still feminine silhouette had appeared in the doorway, but as she had stepped far enough in to reveal her uniform, there had been a ripple of casual disinterest.

Not all men could cope with the aggression of a newly off-duty pilot (or women, for that matter), and tacitly admitted the fact by studiously not looking at Jade, preferring instead to watch the dancers who, with ankles supported by the slings and hands held in cuffs that also hung from the ceiling, were getting enthusiastically in to being fucked deeply and evenly by the dildo-topped dancing poles, bellies rippling as muscles clenched and unclenched, torsos swaying back and forth, breasts rising and sinking in time, nipples hard and highlighted by careful lighting, heads rolling forwards and backs, eyes closed and lips parted, directional microphones broadcasting their whimpers, gasps and moans throughout the bar as a low-volume background.

Several men were wetting their own lips and beginning to grind their hips a little, while trying not to look like it.

Jade carefully avoided looking at them. She had a much easier task. In a room where most of the concentration was centered in one spot, finding the odd one out was simple. And Jade found him.

Sitting towards a back corner, where he could watch the room, and especially the door, but had difficulty getting a clear view of the cages, was a man whose hiding place in the shadows couldn't hide his interest in Jade.

So Jade headed straight for him.

Every Station had men (and women) like this; men whose sole focus in life was to sleep with as many members of the opposite sex as possible. So far as Jade was concerned, they had three big advantages over the normal male inhabitants of these Stations: They were easy to find, they were quite prepared to let a woman take the upper hand so long as sex happened, and they had a lot of practice.

Jade stepped in front of him, without bothering to look at the other chair first.

He raised his glass to her, after raising his eyes from her crotch to her face, which only made her hornier and therefore more aggressive.

"Paul," he said by way of introduction.

"Jade," she replied shortly. "Where are you staying?"

That was the bonus of sex with man-sluts: They weren't easily surprised, and they did as they were told.

Ten minutes of rapid walking later, they were back in his room. He turned out to be employed on the station, which was a bonus: Not being just a passing visitor, he had more chance to personalize his premises, and to bring in those little touches that make a cell a home.

Ten seconds after the door had shut, he was naked and bound to his own bed, the little available space improved by folding his knees over the end of his bed, and strapping his ankles to rings set (against all regulations) into the floor. His arms were likewise folded over the other end, his forearms disappearing down the wall. 

His cock disappeared nowhere, lying fat and heavy on his stomach, hard before his pants hit the floor, circumcised (had that fashion really had another run?) and covering his navel. No wonder, Jade thought as she stood at the foot of the bed and looked up him, That he was good at his hobby.

Jade peeled off her flightsuit, grinning as his eyes followed the zipper mesmerically down her lean body and over her tight breasts.

Her regulation panties she just tore off. All uniforms were replaced on every port visit anyway, and she saw no reason to wear them longer than absolutely necessary. 

She was shaved, too, which was condoned for hygiene reasons in-flight.

"This is what we're going to do," she announced, grinning at his cock. "You are going to get to cum once, when I decide. So will I. But I am going to make it last just as long as I can make my patience hold out. And you are going to do just what you're told, you hear me?"

"Yes, Mistress," he whispered, staring at her damp cunt, no stranger to domination games. 

"Your mouth works. Good."

Jade stepped up onto the end of the bed, then walked forward over his crotch and aching cock and over his chest, long, lean legs on either side of his body and breasts dangling as she stooped to clear the ceiling.

"You can put it to good use."

She lowered her crotch onto his face, carefully position her cunt over his mouth and barely giving him enough room to breath through his nose. 

He did put it to good use. Jade gasped as his tongue slid along her lips from end to end, not aggressive and crude or tentative and frustrating, just confident in its ability to make her turn to jelly, then writhe uncontrollably, then cum.

She arched her back, her hands dropping behind her to grab his chest, fingers digging painfully in around his pecs, causing his tongue to twitch and thrust against her, which only made her grab harder. At the moment, Jade knew that she would not be standing up: Not with her knees as weak as they felt.

He pushed his tongue between her lips and slid upward, finding her clit, small but hard, and teasingly licking over it. Every muscle in her body shuddered. He seemed to know just how to distract her, not keeping a constant rhythm but instead working her clit to work her brain, making it impossible for her to concentrate or draw breath or grab enough control of her body to let her think coherently.

When she came, it was faster and sharper than she had ever felt before in her life, and it rang from her a single explosive "OH FUCK!" as she spasmed so hard she almost sprained her back.

It was a few jangled minutes before she could think properly again, sitting on his face wide-eyed and panting, but when the fog cleared from her brain she was furious. 

"You FUCK," she said as she levered herself off his mouth. 

He grinned up at her, cocky and confident. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever cum twice before? You're about to."

"You'd better fucking be right about that, gimp-boy," she said angrily as she rocked over to one side, swung her leg around and re-straddled him facing the other way, keeping her cunt out of reach of his mouth as she leaned down, teeth bared, towards his cock.

She started, just for revenge, by biting the head, sharply but not hard. The way he bucked underneath her, and the gurgle of surprised fear he made, was enough to make her relent and suck the head into her mouth off his belly, running her tongue around it several times, tasting the salty, delicious pre-cum and then rubbing it over her tongue, towards the back of her throat, going a little slower than normal because of the girth, her chin sliding over his belly.

She closed her teeth around his shaft just up from the base, his full length inside her mouth and throat, and swallowed, her throat squeezing his cock hard as he bucked beneath her, then fellating the head with her throat before pulling back, leaving his shaft slick with her saliva, working the top half with her lips, tongue and teeth as he trembled closer and closer to cumming, until she seized the base of his shaft in her hand and withdrew, letting his spasms subside as he groaned desperately, but had enough sense even then not to say anything.

Jade swung off him and turned around to face him, holding his cock up just at her entrance, brushing lightly against her lips, rubbing it lightly along her lips as he struggled to hold himself together.

"Now," she announced grimly, "We'll see how good you are at holding on. I mean to cum like this, and you're going to make sure of it. Time to keep that promise about making me cum twice, man-slut."

"I usually have my hands free at this point," he gasped, trying desperately not to lose concentration.

"Tough," she replied brusquely. "You should have thought of that before you got so carried away with your tongue."

Licking her finger, getting it as wet as she could, she rubbed it along the underside of his shaft, flicking her finger off the end, before very slowly and very deliberately settling down onto him, his engorged head parting her lips and then the slick walls of her tunnel.

At this point she didn't really believe that she could cum twice, and was only, in a malicious way, attempting to make him suffer. There would be plenty of time for more sex during the remainder of her shore leave.

But she did drop a hand to her cunt and start rubbing her hard clit. That always felt nice, so she wasn't going to miss the opportunity.

She quickly discovered that a cock that long and that fat, filling her completely, even when she was setting the pace, was even more devastatingly effective than the inexhaustible moulded shaft of her beloved machinery on board the Wolfhound.

For the first few strokes, the pleasure was so unexpected and intense that she forgot all about Paul and the fact that she was furious about cumming too early, and just lifted herself up and down, fingers not even working furiously at her clit as she felt waves of euphoria shoot from her cunt every time she dropped down onto him. Then his hips started rolling from side to side, and she discovered that even a man who was stretched out and tied down wasn't entirely helpless.

He was so fat that when he moved he stretched her, instead of just rubbing, and that made her knees so weak that she could barely move, and that put her at his mercy.




Alone in Space Ch. 03



No matter how hard she struggled to get a grip on herself, the grip her cunt had on his cock made it impossible, and with with the cock that her cunt had a grip on, she wasn't going to be able to relax if it started hurting her.

Which might start happening if she started moving, so maybe her complete inability to move was a good idea.

His hips kept rolling from side to side, and her hips started to twitch in response, which made the effect even more powerful, then she lost all ability to notice what was going on.

Then she came again. 

She started screaming before she came, then started screaming louder when her juices gushed out around his cock, then hit a pitch that even she didn't know she was capable of when he came inside her like a shotgun.

By the time he had finished, there was more cum - from both of them - covering his hips than there was inside her.

If she had been left with any energy, instead of collapsing forwards onto his chest still too vague to notice, she would have cleaned him off with her tongue.



Alone in Space Ch. 04



Author's note: There are two things I need to say about this story:

The first is that it's a little different to the usual exotic toys fest in this series. You have been warned.

The second is that I wrote the entire thing, and edited it, on a mobile phone using java text editors, and T9 predictive text. Because I could, bitches.

================

Alone in Space Ch 04: Focus...

Jade hung in mid-air, turning gently in the soft breezes from the vents. Her eyes were lightly closed, her hands relaxed into soft claws and drifting by her sides. She was practising her Company-mandated meditation, and she was firmly of the opinion that she should get bonus points for having so much in her mind to clear it of.

It had been a directive awaiting her the last time she had landed at home base, and she had been surprised. Usually the Company made her life busy with more seemingly pointless exercises, not a complete absence of exercise. 

She had even been prepared to be impressed.

She was no longer prepared to be impressed. 

When you have nothing to do all day, the last thing you want to do is formalised nothing, and she could feel her tension levels increase and her brain hum.

She was enduring, rather than enjoying, and only because the computer was monitoring her.

In her slow drift in the ventilation breeze, she came up against a wall and, head-first, ever so gently bumped against it.

Her eyes flew open.

"Fuck!" She thumped the wall so hard that she was sent floating back across the cabin, drifting impotently in mid-air with no way to change direction or accelerate until she hit the other wall

"Pack of CUNTS!"

Eventually she impacted the other wall, and had enough purchase to deflect herself downwards to the floor, swearing continuously at whoever had made the the exercise room so big in every dimension. 

From the floor she sent herself sailing towards the roof by the door, sailing off that and into the corridor, picking up speed around the belly of the Wolfhound until she caromed off the last section of wall and into the cockpit at a speed that made bells ring in alarm.

That had been another change at her last home-port call, and she had been even less impressed by that one. Every time she did something that an engineer in a cubicle somewhere had decided was just a little bit worrying, the ship bonged at her. 

She caught herself against the back of her pilot's chair but did not flip into it, choosing instead to float above it and gaze out of the foot-thick quartz window that was her only unfiltered view of space, trying to convince herself that somewhere out there was a sight more meaningful or relevant than any other.

It was an unequal challenge and soon, unusually for her, she slumped in mid air and let out a sigh that was more depression than her usual angst. 

It's hard to feel properly weary floating in mid air, so Jade pulled herself down into the seat, settled her left hand on the arm rest and with an almost unconscious flick of her fingers turned on the gravity. 

When the weight settled onto every cell of her body, it had the desired effect: she could feel properly depressed. 

Depression, however, is not permitted by the Company. Her suit, which constantly monitored her vital signs and metabolism via sensors in the left cuff, neck, over her heart and at least one other place she hadn't managed to work out yet, made its displeasure felt with a series of sharp, unevenly spaced shocks against her left wrist until she snapped out of it. 

The first time this had happened, she had nearly snapped her own wrist against the edge of the console in rage.

Now she knew better, and sent herself roaring out of the chair, turning off the gravity with a reflex snap of her fingers as she went, twisting balletic in mid-air, pushing off the ceiling and caroming down the corridor, shouting at the control systems of the ship as she did so.

Her shouting just meant that when she once again sailed into the exercise room, it was waiting for her.

The gravity was also waiting for her, so she came in horizontally, near the ceiling, and as the front half of her body hit Earth-normal with a nauseous wrench she used that downwards drag to turn headlong flight into a forward tumble, coming out upright and bouncing on the balls of her feet, twisting her hips to bring her right leg up and launching off her left, hitting the bag so hard that it went most of the way to the ceiling. 

She dropped into a forward southpaw boxing stance, and as the bag came back towards her she hit it with a jab-punch-elbow combination as she skipped backwards away from it, ending up with a full-blooded left high knee strike as it reached the extent of its swing. Following it back with low right-left-right-left boxing jabs before faking a downwards knock-away jab defence from Muay Thai, following up with the straight punch and then a head-height roundhouse kick to get her thighs into the action.

She switched to kicking only, trying out various styles that an observer from another era might recognise as being faintly Vietnamese, Chinese or Korean, before getting frustrated with the slower tempo of kicking and moving in for up-close low and high kneeing, dropping back again for left-right-left-elbow-right-elbow-elbow-elbow-head-uppercut rapid-fire combinations.

Then she let herself draw breath, and grabbed at a tube hanging from the ceiling to greedily suck water from it.

Her one-piece overalls, meant to be as versatile as they could be made, were starting to show her sweat, so she peeled them off, throwing them neatly into the laundry shoot which obediently opened in the wall.

That left her in the boringly non-descript regulation panties. Her small breasts rode high on a chest totally devoid of other fat and fit enough to flatter her by a cup size. The uniform didn't include a bra - something that dock workers always appreciated.

Free of the almost but not quite entirely elastic overalls, she bounced on the balls of her feet a little, moving stances and breathing in quick but deep breaths, then attacked the bag with the ferocity that had lost her sparring partners on all twelve planets and habitats of the circuit. 

She didn't stop until her arms and thighs and calves felt like rubber and her knuckles were bleeding.

When she hit her limit she shouted "Clear the room!" before grabbing the drinking tube and sucking on it greedily with the energy that had kept her bed partners in all twelve planets and habitats of the circuit.

Terrific. Now she was horny from exercise, and nowhere closer to being able to fill her quota of meditation, and without filling her quota, she wouldn't be allowed luxuries, like the use of anything else in the gymnasium. 

The cunts had her coming and going, and without filling their fucking stupid rules, she wouldn't be cumming.

"Pack of arse-holes!" she said out loud, daring the computer to respond. It gave her the same response it always did when provoked - silence.

Then she had a thought. It struck her so suddenly she stopped drinking with water still in her mouth, then had to swallow it and start laughing, in a voice tinged with hysteria.

"Computer!" She shouted. 

It answered her in its normal, unreactive voice: "Yes, Jade?" 

"Can I combine tasks?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can I combine tasks? Can I do my meditation while exercising?"

The computer was silent for a dozen heartbeats. Oh please, oh please.

"That is allowed."

In the silence of her head, Jade punched the air in exultation.

"Right! Bring out the chair! "

"You do not have enough..."

"Listen here, silicon breath! We have agreed that I may perform tasks simultaneously, haven't we?"

"Yes."

"Then I can meditate while enjoying my rewards, can't I?"

There was what could only be described as a pregnant pause. 

"Yes."

"Huh!"

"However..."

"What now?"

"You will be using up reward points, and will be penalised if..."

"Understood, for fuck's sake! Bring out the fucking chair!"

"Your acknowledgement of the conditions has been noted," the computer said with what Jade suspected was sarcastic primness.

But, the wall opened and Jade's favourite toy came out.

"My baby," she cooed as the hardware locked into place.

The chair was like a blank slate to her: It sat in the centre of the room, bare of adornments and accessories, all possibilities still hovering in phase space and waiting for a decision to bring one of them to actuality and deny the rest of them existence.

But... Which one?

She would have to satisfy the computer that she was meditating, so she would have to maintain some form of steady altered mental state and one that would be appropriate!

Which left...

Damn. It was going to be the time factor again. It was always the time factor.

She was going to have to go slow. She hated going slow. She never could go slow without making it hard. Sorry, without making it difficult. Which meant simple. Which she... Was going to have to put up with, wasn't she?

The first step was to leave gravity on, but that wasn't so unusual. She peeled her panties off and walked slowly towards the chair, trying to set herself up for the right frame of mind, and very nearly succeeding.

She sat down, and her hands quivered on the armrests for a moment before she managed not to calm herself, but at least control herself, outwardly at least. 

She couldn't afford to use the restraints. It was years since she had foregone restraints, but she couldn't afford it now. She turned those off, and almost felt the chair ask why in a plaintive, confused tone of voice but, being technology, it obeyed better than her groin was.

So that left the rest. She turned the nipple milkers, the breast pumps, the breast compressors, the mouth gags and dildos and all of the clamps off as well. She couldn't afford to lose concentration and self control and turn them on too soon, so she locked them for the session, and that took almost more self control than she had.

Everything anal was turned off and locked. And, although it nearly broke her heart to do so, all the clitoral tools and the electro-sex toys as well. She was almost crying by this stage, but there was only one toy she could afford to use, and so she locked herself to that: The smooth, medium sized, non-vibrating dildo. 

She couldn't even remember the last time she had used that.

She was so wet that when it slid inside her she barely even felt it.

She certainly felt it when it bottomed out inside her, though. 

Her whole body shuddered and she clenched her eyes shut, but the hollow feeling from the rest of her body was more torturous than the promise of slow teasing from the dildo.

As it slid slowly out of her, she tried to relax her eyes from squeezed shut to just lightly shut. When it reversed and slid back inside, making her whimper despite how little sensation it gave her, she breathed deeply, trying to stay relaxed and enjoy the internal massage.

It was a radical attempt to change a state of mind which had been seeking pleasure at all costs since she first felt a cock inside her, and she didn't manage it the first time.

She didn't manage it the second time, either.

As it began to impale her for the third time, she finally managed to ignore the sexualism of the stroking and enjoy it as a pleasant sensation. 

As it withdrew and returned the next time, she almost gained some form of meditative composure.

It wasn't until the fifth stroke, however, that she finally achieved a reasonable impersonation of a higher state of consciousness.

She even managed to forget that every sexually charged nerve ending in her body was screaming for the abuse that made her cum like a fire hose and scream like a raped pig.

On the next stroke, she almost remembered that and it was almost her undoing.

She had to relax her body and keep her mind focused, and do it while not reacting to what was slowly becoming exquisite but madness-inducing torture.

As the shaft bottomed out inside her, she reflexively tried to lift herself off it, sucking in her breath in a deep, shuddering gasp.

Breath! Yes, that was it! Perhaps she could distract herself by focusing on her breath!

The next time she was penetrated, she breathed in with it, but that only heightened the sensations, so she had to stumble over the next cycle and breath out with penetration, in with withdrawal.

That was bearable.

That, she could just about cope with.

On the next cycle, it was slightly more bearable. By concentrating hard, she could, just barely, distract herself from even noticing the intrusion.

As the torture continued, focusing on every little aspect of every breath brought her a form of stability, and then control. 

As time wore on, it even brought her composure.

Her breathing, slow and deep and as steady as planetary orbits, became the foreground, and the slowly entering and withdrawing stroke from her lips all the way inside her now needily tight cunt as far as it could go, became the background. 

The piercing, exquisite assault on her senses that threatened to unscrew the top of her head became a slow, pulsating glow in her groin and in her womb. 

Time became marked out not by seconds or her heartbeat but by the slow pulsing of breath matched by the pressure and glow inside her.

She barely even noticed that her breasts had become swollen with blood or that her nipples were standing out nearly an inch from her flesh and would have made her scream with the faintest feather-light touch.

Even the plaintive scream of abandonment from her erect clit went unheeded. It was therefore a matter of some surprise when a gentle chime sounded in her ear.

Part of her body jerked into wakefulness automatically, part of her mind wondered what it was. Part told the rest that it was the signal that her meditation session was over, but as this was going on, another part paid attention to the sensations in her groin.

"OH, FUCK ME!"

Her orgasm, held back by lack of conscious attention, lifted her off the chair. Habit, long-used to restraints, kept her fingers clenched, white-knuckled, on the arms. Her scream caromed around the room and echoed back at her.

She had lifted herself as the dildo was withdrawing, and as it automatically followed her and began its next calm insertion she convulsed again.

She had not given the chair any instructions on what to do when she came, so it did nothing, and continued to slowly stroke inside her. When she collapsed back onto the seat and the dildo, it felt as though she was about to burst.

Her fingers scrabbled desperately for the controls, but then another slow insertion lifted her up again, and drove another wail of ecstasy from her. 

When she collapsed that time, the final withdrawal of the dildo made her over-sensitive flesh scream in pain, and she finally managed to hit the off button.

There was a decisive click, a slight pause and then the shaft withdrew completely from her, leaving her sore and aching.

She needed a couple of deep, shuddering breaths to regain focus, and then she turned the gravity off so that she didn't have to support her own weight any more.

She drifted gently off the chair, but was asleep before she had entirely left it.



Alone in Space Ch. 05



Author's Note:

This series was never intended to be a series and, even more than that, was never intended to have any character development or off-action chatter. So how this one came about is beyond me.

It was inspired by a news report of an actual technological development: Electrodes that could be implanted under the skin at the base of the spine to fool the brain into thinking that the vagina was enjoying itself. I thought, well... Jade wouldn't like second best, would she? And so here we are.

Criticisms along the lines of "There's not enough character development!" will be cheerfully ignored. There's not supposed to be.

========================

"Alone in Space 5" Or: "Deception"

Jade looked suspiciously at the innocuous leather strip, and pointedly avoided touching it.

It was attached to her darling chair at the usual spot for the collar, but it was not the collar she was used to. Or rather, it was the wrong collar she was used to.

The collar was, of course, optional. As were all other accessories in this room, provided that certain minimal requirements were met. Every ship of the Company started out with the same base set of componentry, but once a pilot had passed their probation and become custodian of their ship they could start ticking the options boxes, and that included removing default settings.

No ship was allowed to exceed weight limits, and so Jade had compromised on exercise equipment (a basic set of resistance arms and a couple of striking pads and bags was enough) in order to include all the mechanics that she could use with - she licked her lisp merely thinking about it - her chair.

And, being a fan of restraints, and a great fan of being held immobile while abused by cold, mechanical machines which only cared about the signals coursing through her sensory nerves, had specified a collar. And liking to be restrained by flexible bonds that wrapped skin-tight around her, she had specified the leather collar.

She had grown to love that collar. She had grown to personify it and become a little submissive to the collar as an entity. She had even begun to talk to it, and to say thank you the way a good submissive should. While indulging her occasional abusive rape fantasy, she had screamed and swore at it. She had even begun kissing it. 

Five voyages ago, it had been replaced. 

This was not her collar. It was the new collar. It was not quite as soft, which was a little annoying. It was wider, which was good around her long neck. The attachment to the chair had been not through a chain but through a thick wire rope, which was odd but not so odd as to be annoyed at. Why, she had asked the dock manager while trying not to indulge her fantasy of slamming him back against the wall and lifting him off the ground by one hand around his neck, had it been changed at all? Why was she only now informed, and only by reading tediously through the list of checks she was required to sign off on?

Don't fucking know, not my fucking problem, the dock manager had replied shortly, and narrowly, through the most incredible effort of will on Jade's part, avoided folding up gently around testicles screaming in pain.

Well who does fucking know, she had asked, only to be told that he didn't fucking know that, either, but it was probably fucking maintenance.

There was nothing fucking wrong with it, she had objected, to be met with the perfectly accurate riposte that he didn't fucking care.

You fuck-head, she had told him, and was promptly docked a quarter of that trip's pay, for abusing senior staff, by automated sensors scattered around the dock.

That had not improved her mood, and only a thug at her destination port, who had tried to rape her in a back-alley short-cut, had helped out by giving her somebody to beat up. The dock police had protested about her cutting off his genitals with a uniform utility knife that she hadn't been allowed to carry ashore, but some smooth talking and participation in a spit-roast party with the cell door locked - like most dock staff they were easily and regularly bribed by the flesh, bathed regularly and made sure that they had sweet-tasting cum, which was always appreciated - had eased that little difficulty.

Now, five trips later, she had been informed, with great pride, by a Company representative who had demonstrated the presence of mind required to do so from behind a security-enabled desk, what the collar was for.

That had not improved her mood either.

"We can finally do away with many mechanical components of the Sexual Exercise System!" He had enthused, long practice dropping the capitals neatly into place.

Caution, in case she was fired for insubordination, prevented Jade's initial outburst and the official had been able to continue uninterrupted.

"The new generation of collar is a ganglion-accurate nerve sensor and exciter. For the past four trips, it has been calibrating itself using feedback from the sensors in your brain, so that it can, with absolute accuracy, stimulate the nerves in your spinal column to simulate any physical sensation below the neck."

She had managed to restrict herself to a disbelieving stare.

"The upshot of which", he had continued, carried away by the magnificence of the situation, "Is that we can perfectly replicate any physical activity performed by the machines, and save the weight and space that the machines took up!"

Jade's impulse, to leap across the desk and throttle him, had thankfully been consumed behind a choked-out comment that we could do this with virtual reality already.

"Yes, yes," he said irritably, waving that away. "But, as you should well know following your basic training, we cannot implant virtual-reality hardware in a pilot's head. The sensors you have are the most we can do. This way we can replicate virtual reality! We can even provide goggles if you need visual stimulation!

Jade bit back the retort that she preferred to be blindfolded or at least unsighted and to not know what was about to be done to her, and took several rapid, shallow breaths to keep the red mist down. Finally she managed to choke out the comment that the employment agreement had clearly outlined the amount of choice available to her as an employee in deciding upon...

"Yes, yes," he said with a wave of his hand, as though dismissing this as ultimately unimportant. "It does, and you can choose to continue to use the wasteful..."

"Well, then..."

"But you can not choose to ignore this completely," he continued with an implacability that she had not expected him to possess. "You are required to trial all new equipment offered by the Company, and this is no exception. I will review the reports after your next voyage."

And that had been that. She had left to try and work out her anger on a large punching bag in the dormitory gym, and now here she was, naked and surprisingly ambivalent about it, staring at the collar lying quietly but expectantly on the chair's backrest. 

She was battling the indisputable but conflicting facts that her body was screaming for release - she was five minutes later than normal in fulfilling that demand - and her mind was still feeling rebelliously put-out, not to mention cynical, about the collar, and with a final vestige of superstitious reluctance to let it manipulate any nerves that closely.

Finally, frustrated lust and a touch of kinky anticipation won out, and she approached it the way she normally did sex - aggressively and challengingly. A practised step-half-roll put her lying on the chair, legs in the accustomed wide-spread position, neck perfectly placed. The collar wrapped itself around her neck and tugged with just the right amount of accustomed pressure, and then the other leather straps wrapped themselves around her arms, upper and lower and wrist, and legs at two places on her thighs, two on her calves. A thin rope wrapped around her belly, holding her down more by the delicious threat of discomfort than by solid restraint, and ropes wrapped firmly above, below, around and between her breasts to put pressure on the little flesh she did have, making them swell up, more easily accessible to the machines that would normally be lunging at her now.

Then she took a deep breath, and said "Run default".

The chair was already in the default setting, and did not need to adjust. The absence of hovering, spidery, silver-gleaming arms above her was disconcerting and achingly wrong. Even the bits of her brain that recognised the existence of the arms that came from underneath the table felt the loss of not having arms descending upon her helplessly restrained body from above.

Then she felt suction cups settle over her nipples and sudden cold make them spring achingly erect, and a gasp rushed out of her. Her neck jerked up to stare frantically down at her chest, and saw nothing. Her nipples were beginning to harden in response to the sensation, but nothing like...

Then they were... She felt them sucked hard into two glass tubes, distended painfully beyond design limits, and her head fell back with a thump, completely disoriented by the discontinuity between sensation and sight.

A jet of cold water played over her pussy, making her back arch, and...  the part of her brain that  knew it was only a false sensation tried to make her feel its artificiality, but her pussy stubbornly felt it as real. Just to check, she craned her head forward again, and saw a complete absence of the water jet that was continuing to play up and down her slit, bouncing with painful stimulation off her clit, just as the vacuum sleeves that were not actually attached to her nipples started to pulse.

Her head dropped back again, harder this time, and she clenched her eyes shut. "Blindfold!" she gasped while she still could, and a length of black silk wrapped itself obligingly around her eyes to spare her the cognitive dissonance of not being able to see the thick, studded metal rod that then slid smoothly inside her cunt. She felt it fill her, and felt the tear-drop studs moulded over the surface bump past her lips and massage her flesh as it did so. She felt it push painfully against the end of her cunt, and then felt it withdraw almost all the way, only the ice-cold tip within her, before it plunged back in and started on a fast, abusive pounding. Every nerve in her cunt began screaming and Jade, still struggling with the knowledge that it was all an illusion, that none of it was happening to her, surrendered and let her mind fracture and run away to play with the sensations.

The vacuum on her nipples intensified until pain radiated throughout her breasts, and then the cold water, which had started to pulse with hard, painfully sharp slaps, was joined by a metal ring which found her erect clit, contracted around it painfully and then started to vibrate. 

She convulsed around the rope holding her down, hard enough to leave a red mark when this was finished, and screamed with the mix of searing pain and world-whitening pleasure that was always her weak spot.

Dammit, it was just as effective as it always had been - the ship and its perfect memory and millions of biometric sensors had been studying her for years and knew just what she needed, when and how to make her helplessly aroused and then all but blank her out with orgasm, but at the back of her conscious mind a small sprite ran back and forth, beating just as helplessly against the walls of diminishing consciousness that held it, screaming It's Not Real! You're Being Conned! This Isn't Really Happening! WAKE UP! 

Unfortunately, the rest of her body was screaming I DON'T CARE! even louder, and the voice of reason was drowned out by the voice of pure lust, and the sprite died with a final despairing shriek just before her body hit the perfect plateau of every nerve ending singing in tune.

At that point she didn't consciously realise what was happening, and could never quite remember afterwards, having given control to the computer, what it had done to her at the time. So she didn't notice the small plug slide well-lubricated into her arse and settle there, and didn't notice her breasts squeezed even harder or the jaws that slid down inside the vacuum tubes on her nipples to pinch them even harder, even though she felt every bit of it.  But she did notice, purely because it was what tipped her over the edge, when the dildo stopped deep inside her and started vibrating so aggressively that it was only held back by fear of injuring her pelvis.

She screamed for quite some time after that.

#

She stood up shakily, almost too limp and uncoordinated to stay there, every muscle quivering and weak, and took one step before turning off the gravity. She pushed herself off the floor, floated slowly towards the door until she got to where a fresh uniform waited her and... stopped. 

She felt fine. 

Which was wrong.

She wasn't bruised, she didn't ache, she didn't feel as though she had just been fucked hard and mercilessly. Her nipples didn't ache, her clit wasn't sore, her cunt wasn't aching and tender and there were no red marks, no wheals, no white patches or bruises except for where the restraints had held her. And the only moisture on her skin was sweat. If she had been able to rip the collar off the table and flung it into deep space, she would have done so. Even after cumming as violently as she ever had, she needed to do it again, just to make it feel real.

"Computer!" She said, not quite recovered enough yet to shout through her sore throat.

"Yes, Jade?" It replied in its current, carefully neutral voice. 

"Disable that fucking collar. Replace it if you've got a spare. I don't want to ever used it again, is that clear?"

"Yes, Jade."

"And let me know when I can come back in here for some proper therapy. I don't feel soiled."



Alone in Space Ch. 06



Author's note:

How can it possibly take so long to get the opening right? Set scene, get to the sex. It shouldn't be so hard.

This will have to be the swan-song for the Alone in Space series, I think. If it wasn't obvious enough that the series had hit its limit when I had to have two participants in two stories, the amount of time it took me to write this has confirmed it.

These stories where little pieces that I banged out (get it? Ha. Ha. Ha) when I felt like it. This one had to be forced out, so there's not likely to be more of Jade, I'm afraid to say.

If people like these little stories, please let me know through public or private comments and I will put more machines in more of my other stories :)

#

Jade thunked two bottles heavily down onto the tabletop, managing to spill something out of each.

"Do you have to fucking do that?" Cass asked, irritated. The shorter pilot, slightly stockier than Jade and with breasts actually visible inside her slightly baggy regulation coverall, licked beer off the side of the bottle and swallowed half the contents in one gulp.

"Yes I fucking do," Jade said, somehow managing to drink half her bottle at the same time.

Cass ignored the response. "I'll lay odds on that the prick who caused that little speech was that slimy shit "

Jade chimed in, in unison, "Chris."

For the first time in two years, all Company pilots had been at the base at the same time. Their Captain had taken the opportunity to read them the riot act on treatment of non-flying colleagues, and Jade had been waiting on being named until assault had been mentioned - she was pretty sure that she had never actually thumped anybody.

"How many times have you had him try and grope you?" Cass asked as Jade swallowed the other half of her beer, leaned perilously back on her chair to the small fridge and fished out another two, expertly knocking the caps off against the side of the table before slamming them down with, this time, slightly less spillage.

"I did not break his wrist the first time he tried it," Jade replied flatly, "But the little fucker never tried it again. He just tried bad-mouthing me around the base."

Cass stared at her open-mouthed. "Hey, was that you when he ..."

"I have never punched a colleague," Jade said after a quick swallow, "No matter how much he might have deserved it."

"Or broken their wrist?"

"Or broken their wrist."

"What about dropped them off the side of a gantry into a kitchen rubbish bin?"

"That wasn't assault, the little fucker slipped."

Cass howled with laughter, and swigged half of her second beer. "What are we going to fucking do with you?" she asked between dying chuckles.

"Well, I know what I'm going to fucking do with you," Jade said matter-of-factly as she drank from her bottle.

"Wha?" asked Cass, wondering why her voice was slurring.

"I've been on this fucking station for a fucking month with no fucking action and piss-poor fucking toys, and YOU, girl, made the mistake of telling me one of your fantasies last time we met up."

Cass, who hadn't been awake long enough to hear the end of the sentence, finished her boneless slump to the ground.

Jade stared at her with satisfaction, and finished her beer. "Fucking A," she said.

#

Cass dreamed that she was strapped into her chair on her ship, spread-eagled and with a vibrating dildo buried deep inside her. She wondered, vaguely, why nothing else was happening to her, because the dildo was making her whole body itch for the other toys, and she could do with pincers on her nipples, right about now.

Then she woke up as quickly as someone with her regimented fitness could be expected to, and was in time to see Jade casually toss the antidote syringe into a waste chute.

"Where the fuck did you get drugs like that from?" she asked violently, but with an aroused catch in her voice.

"Lab tech in Medical had blue balls."

"You fucked a lab tech just to get me laid out?"

"No, I sucked a lab tech to get you laid."

Cass suddenly realised that she should have been paying more attention.

She was naked, and tied snugly in a cross pattern to Jade's bed, and she did indeed have a gently vibrating dildo inside her, and she was as horny as hell.

"What the fuck?" she asked, as she stared in disbelief at the electrical cord snaking towards her pussy.

Quick as lightning, Jade lashed her across the breasts with a leather belt, causing shooting pains from both nipples. "Quiet, bitch!" she shouted.

Startled, Cass shut up, wondering if she wasn't still dreaming after two weeks of near abstinence. It was only then that she noticed that Jade's lean, ropey body bore not a single stitch of clothing.

Jade pointed the buckle of the belt at her face. "A year ago," she began, "You told me that you got really horny at the thought of getting tied to a bed and raped by another woman. So," this time the whip caught her across her hips, stinging her pussy lips. "Call me Mistress, bitch!"

The pain felt real enough to be awake, but either a lingering fog from the drug or the confusion of being so horny made reality a slippery thing to get hold of. "Wha..."

She was drowned out by Jade jamming a bundle of fabric between her jaws.

She could taste woman and knew, without even recognising the distinctive uniform fabric, that she had panties in her mouth. She also knew that they had to be Jade's.

Lust and the remorseless buzzing between her legs won out over confusion and anger. Her head dropped back and her back arched.

"Good little slut!" Jade crowed, triumphantly, "For that, you get a reward!"

What reward? Cass wondered fuzzily, then screamed through the fabric in her mouth as she felt the firm, cold steel jaws of a company clothes-pin close about her clitoris.

"We have so few fucking TOYS here," Jade said conversationally as Cass breathed in and out forcefully, the pain from her clitoris settling into a throbbing, exquisitely painful pulse of pleasure. "So we're going to have to improvise."

She dropped the belt and held up two more clothes pegs, opening and then letting them snap shut.

Cass closed her eyes, knowing exactly where they were going, her nipples cringing in anticipatory pain.

She was wrong.

When they closed on the insides of her thighs, right up near her cunt, she nearly leapt off the bed, screaming through the gag. 

The next two tightened over her pussy lips, one on either side of the base of the wired vibrator inside her, and tears of pain squeezed from her eyes even as her hips jerked upwards in a burst of lust.

Then two closed over her nipples, squeezing the flesh of the aureoles not the even more sensitive flesh of the nipples themselves but still, with pain and shock combined, causing her to scream hard enough to all but eject Jade's panties from her mouth.

Before she recovered, and blinked the tears of pain from her eyes, two more grabbed the sides of her breasts. Then two more, then another two. Six in all encircled each breast before Jade was finished.

Cass was in agony, her breasts a sea of red, her nipples twin spikes of searing white, her clit and her cunt throbbing. But the vibrator, the tightly stretched helpless openness of her position and the inescapable taste and scent of Jade in her mouth kept her so achingly aroused that every line of pain was merely another goad to her lust.

Then Jade stepped onto the bed and walked up until she could kneel down with her glisteningly wet cunt above Cass' face. She reached down and yanked her panties from out of Cass' mouth, said "Your mouth needs to be doing something useful, slut," and dropped down until her pussy was a more complete gag than the panties had been.

Cass gave into instinct, and started licking.

Jade leaned backwards, reached behind herself to find the base of the vibrator where it protruded from Cass' cunt, felt, and twisted.

The buzzing went from a slow, steady and relentless grind upon Cass' will to a violent assault upon her sex. She arched off the bed anew, screaming into Jade's cunt, breathing so hard that she felt sucked onto Cass' face.

Jade's hand scrabbled beside the bed and came up with two medical forceps. She opened them with a click, closed them on her own nipples and pulled straight outwards.

She barely noticed as Cass climaxed, bucking beneath her, orgasmic screams muffled by her increasingly wet cunt.

She stretched her breasts forwards, dragging them behind her nipples, as Cass tried to plead for mercy, to get away from the wild vibrating in her pussy but only succeeded in driving Jade wild with the movements of her face.

Cass was driven past pain towards another orgasm, her tongue getting tired but even more eager to please.

Jade began humping her face, rocking backwards and forwards, trying to rub her clit against Cass' nose, squeezing the forceps tighter and pulling harder, screaming pain from her nipples making her cunt burn with need until she exploded, nearly drowning the trapped pilot beneath her.

Cass choked, swallowed, and screamed again as her second orgasm was torn from her. 

Jade rolled sideways, misjudging and rolling entirely off the bed, landing on the floor with a bump and starting to laugh hysterically as Cass, sobbing with part pain and part delirium, choked out "Please can you turn this vibrator off, now?"

"No," Jade said as she levered herself off the floor using the side of the bed, wiping tears from her eyes. "I want to see how long you last."

"What?" Cass asked, wide-eyed with disbelief, then arched her back and screamed as Jade reached out and pinched her clit, making her cum again, body shaking.

"Please don't," Cass gasped out, her voice growing ragged, but her eyes weren't open to see Jade slide around the end of the bed, lower herself, and suck Cass' clit into her mouth, letting it slip out long enough to say "Mmm, girl-cum," before dropping back again.

It took slightly longer for Cass to cum this time, with Jade trying to suck the skin from her clit, but although she was sounding exhausted, her pilot-fit body still responded strongly.

"Oh fuck," she moaned when the quakes had subsided. "Please stop making me cum!"

"No," Jade said happily. "I'm going to have a shower. I need to depilate, so I'm going to be a while. Enjoy yourself while I'm gone."

The showers were communal, and at the other end of the corridor. Cass' eyes opened wide, fear shocking her out of brain-jangling arousal for long enough to say "You fuck..." before Jade once more gagged her with a pair of panties, this time after rubbing them against her own pussy to get them nice and wet .

Cass convulsed desperately against her bonds again, but couldn't even make them creak as Jade stepped into her coverall and opened the door.

"I'll be about half an hour," she called over her shoulder. "Have fun!"

Cass, in the grip of another orgasm, didn't even hear her.



Alone in Space Ch. 07



Author's note: Well, look at that. Another one, and after I promised not to. I'm such a bad boy I need to be tied up and spanked.

I said I probably wouldn't write any more of these because I had run out of ideas.

Well: Come the idea, ejaculate the story. 

#

In the quiet of the control room, a gentle glow drifting from the instrument panel reassured the air that everything was fine: The life-support systems were well within operational parameters, navigation was not detectably incorrect at this distance to destination, and the pilot was located and monitored.

In the corridors, darkness was relieved only by light filtering in from either end.

In the pilot's quarters, the unmade bed was quietly attracting demerit points every half hour.

In the gymnasium, inarticulate grunting mingled with the ripe smell of exertion and the whirring of the machines as Jade worked towards mandated targets.

The Wolfhound was on its way to a remote frontier, carrying the most precious and most compact of supplies - a complete medications library, a synthesiser, and a wide selection of backup medications.

The world it was heading towards had been settled out of the necessity to have a ground-based staging post in a mineral-rich system, not because it was a desirable place to live.

It was Company policy that all pilots headed to frontier worlds were held to elevated fitness and strength standards. The fact Jade was on this run at all was thanks to a fitness clearance she had highly disagreed with.

It meant she was pushed harder every day, and the exercises left her so tired she was barely able to use her quota of recreational time.

It was hard to be aroused when all the oxygen in your blood was being sent to your muscles, which were burning.

In her sour moments of down-time, she thought nasty thoughts about management doing it deliberately in order to keep her frustrated.

She had tried to argue the computer into combining recreation and exercise, but it was being unusually implacable, even for it.

So, most of her sessions on the machines she wanted to use were short and unsatisfying. She just didn't have the energy left to last long enough to have fun.

She was barely even swearing throughout the exercises, which satisfied the computer's simple parameters. 

She did, however, have a high-G kickboxing session scheduled for later that day, and a longer than usual rest before it, and was looking forward to that. At least she would be able to work out some aggression, even if she couldn't work out any frustration.

Behind her head, deliberately out of view, a strip-meter was well into the green range as her targeted performance improvements were outstripped by her actual performance improvements.

The computer wasn't allowed to tell her this - it was company policy that any personnel on a performance improvement curve were driven hard without knowing the goalposts or where they were in relation to them. 

That didn't make Jade feel any better but, as nobody responsible for the policy had ever been a pilot, it didn't surprise her much either.

There was a beep to indicate the end of a rep. The machines gradually faded down to no resistance, then neatly folded themselves away. Jade slumped, her arms and pectorals burning and sweat glistening dully in the flat lighting, and tried to get back to normal breathing.

Another beep and a sign flashing on the wall told her to run through the post-exercise stretching. 

With a snarl, she slid to the floor and started.

#

In the control room, a console that had been showing a constant blank screen for a month developed a blip on one side a split second before a piercing siren began playing throughout the entire craft.

Jade, who was lying on the gymnasium floor with her ankles spread in a perfect 180-degree split, hips on the floor and her legs directly out to the side, swore more out of disbelief than irritation.

"SHUT THAT FUCKING THING OFF!"

The computer didn't even bother primly pointing out it was merely trying to get her attention, and that finally shocked her into action.

She was running when she hit the gym door and left gravity, soaring up towards the ceiling and using the momentum to get grip to catapult her towards the next door and the stretch towards the bridge.

The radar screen was flashing for attention as she flew through the bridge door. 

She floated in mid-air, staring in disbelief. 

An SOS? Out here? Where the fuck did that come from?

"Ship? What the fuck?"

"The signal is of Company origin, Jade."

"The Company has lost a ship and didn't know where it was?"

The ship was silent.

"Ship, are you fucking telling me this is common?"

"I said nothing, Jade."

"I know you fucking didn't, that's the fucking problem."

The ship was silent again.

"Right, what's the fucking protocol?"

"You are required to dock and investigate, Jade."

Jade was silent herself this time, breathing slowly and deliberately.

"You are required ..."

"Shut the fuck up, I heard you. Alright, change course. I'm going to take a shower."

She stripped off her exercise clothing on the way to the bathroom, where she scrubbed her naked body violently, trying to work out her anger at the Company and its fucked-up greediness.

Cargo ships do not take kindly to changing course or speed, and generally need prior notice. The Wolfhound complained constantly as it was forced to curve around towards the emergency beacon. 

When it finally docked, Jade was even more annoyed, but at least there had been time for her to get some energy back.

Her regulation overalls went over regulation underwear, and her rarely-used regulation spacesuit over that. 

She had a sidearm. She had been trying to forget about that. In her experience, even on the stations where sidearms were legal (fuck knows why), she could cripple any assailant faster than she could draw a gun. But, she was going into a potentially dangerous situation. So, she was required to carry the sidearm.

"The sidearm must be holstered at all times unless required."

"What the fuck? Are you telling me I don't know what's in there and I can't go in pointing a gun in front of me?"

"That is correct."

"Then why the fuck do I have it?"

"Regulations, Jade."

"Fuck regulations."

"I am required to give you demerit points, Jade."

"Fuck the regulations, fuck you, and fuck your demerit points."

Company cargo ships have flexible docking tubes for ship-to-ship contact in space. The Wolfhound's had never been used, and Jade had a flash of worry that it wouldn't work after so long, but her cynicism about Company maintenance checks was apparently not justified. 

After the tube sealed around the other ship's airlock, Jade manually plugged a probe into the airlock door and waited, impatiently, until her ship had run an atmosphere check.

"The life-support systems appear to be functioning correctly, Jade. There are no particulates detected, and the atmosphere is of correct composition and pressure."

"No sound?"

"There is no indication of life aboard."

"Well, fuck."

The airlock opened. Jade floated inside. The airlock door shut. The airlock filled with atmosphere.

The inner airlock door opened.

The lights were on, and there appeared to be no particular mess or damage.

Jade warily looked up and down the corridor. "Jade, proceed to the medbay."

"Want to fucking tell me why?"

The computer was silent.

Cursing it under her breath, Jade headed off down the corridor.

The pilot was in the medbay.

She was naked, and mummified. There were no obvious external signs of injury.

"Want to tell me what she died of?"

"The records are unclear. It may have been coronary failure or a stroke. Automated attempts to revive the pilot were not appear successful. There was no record of illness prior to this."

"Please run another air test."

"I have been running continuous testing. There still appear to be no particulates in the air. Screening at atomic scale indicates only oxygen and nitrogen."

"No carbon dioxide?"

"The pilot has been dead long enough for all detectable traces to be removed."

"I don't like that 'detectable'." 

"I am required to not make absolute statements where there is any trace of doubt."

"So there may be pathogens?"

"My assessment is that there are not."

"Right."

Jade began undoing her helmet.

"Jade ..."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Jade, regulations ..."

"I am fucking uncomfortable inside this. If it's safe for me to be outside this, I fucking will be."

With the helmet off, a cautious sniff revealed no unpleasant odours. In fact, the air smelled a lot cleaner than her own ship, simply because there had not recently been someone living in it.

She clipped her communicator to her overalls.

"How long ago did this happen?"

The computer said nothing.

"Ship, stop fucking sulking. How long ago did this happen?"

"At least two years."

"Two years and not collected. Terrific."

Jade floated out of the medbay, towards the bridge. All systems were dormant, but operational. She was careful not to touch anything, in case there was a short, but nothing appeared damaged in any way - broken or scorched.

Ships are only programmed to respond to one voice, so she didn't try speaking to it.

She headed to the sleeping quarters. It looked much like her room - unmade bed, clothes only as tidy as they needed to be.

In the gymnasium, the recreational equipment - what Jade referred to as "the fun bits" were deployed, and the exercise equipment stowed. Hers consisted of articled arms. This one consisted of a dangling mass of tentacles, all of them covered in transparent synthetic skin.

"Kinky. Well, I hope she died happy," Jade muttered.

The door behind her closed.

Jade twisted in mid-air. "What the fuck?"

"I am not sure, Jade, the computer is not responding."

"Well fucking make it -"

A tentacle suddenly hooked around her waist. She didn't even have time to start saying "What the fuck?" before it jerked her violently backwards.

Other tentacles whipped around her wrists and ankles before she had a chance to react, lifting her in a cross shape. She wrenched at them, but only succeeded in bruising her wrists. The tentacles tightened, stretching her joints. Gravity came back with a stomach-clenching suddenness.

"Ship!"

Another tentacle swooped in front of her, unfolding a cutting tip. "Oh, you are fucking kidding me."

Her overalls were neatly slit from neck to crotch. 

"Ship! What's going on?"

"There appears to be a malfunction of the equipment's AI. I am attempting -"

The voice in her ear abruptly stopped as the communicator was pulled off.

"SHIP!"

Her overalls were comprehensively shredded, falling to the ground as strips of fabric, leaving only the bits trapped by the tentacles around her wrists and ankles. Her boots were removed, followed by her socks. 

The cutting tentacle reappeared in front of her, hovering, then dipped towards her chest. 

"Hey, I think you're cute and all, but we've only just met!"

It smoothly slid underneath the strip between her bra cups, then pulled outwards until the fabric parted either side of the blade. It slit the shoulder straps quickly, so the bra fell off. 

"I suppose I should be thankful your calibrations are still good."

She instinctively tried to jump when something round pressed into her pubis from underneath, but there wasn't enough slack for her to even twist her hips. 

It pressed the fabric of her panties against her lips before beginning to gently vibrate. 

"Oooh! You couldn't buy me a drink first, could you?"

Two more vibrating tentacles pressed against her calves, then slid slowly upwards, twining about her legs as the - she had to admit it - delicious buzzing massaged her thighs inside and out, her buttocks, then up over her kidneys, around to her belly, then up towards her breasts. 

"I know exactly what this pilot had in her video library, don't I?" There was a gasp in Jade's voice. The buzzing against her groin was just too familiar.

The vibrating tips moved over her tiny breasts, pressing against her and pushing against her nipples, which, helped by a significant burst of adrenaline, were traitorously thickening.

"Oh, god dammit!"

The persistent buzzing against her groin was making it hard to stay focussed. The dildo-like heads buzzing against her nipples made her shiver, which reminded her body how it usually felt when it shivered like that, which made her wet, which made the buzzing against her lips feel too much like what she wanted, which -

Suddenly, her eyes widened as she remembered. "Hey! Override! Stop!"

A deep, masculine, voice said "Your voice is not recognised. Override rejected."

The voice had been so resonant her whole body had vibrated with it. That had to be deliberate.

"Emergency stop! Safety risk!"

"Your authority is not recognised. You've been a very naughty girl."

The speaker seemed to be right behind her buttocks, sending vibrations straight through her belly and her groin.

"Fucking what?"

A slender tentacle wrapped around her neck then over her face, forcing her head up. 

"Naughty girls should stop speaking."

It was open her mouth, or have her teeth broken.

The dildo was the most accurately modelled false cock Jade had ever swallowed. She preferred her machines to be machines, but this pilot had preferred her machines to taste and smell pungently masculine. It made her head spin as she hurriedly opened her throat to avoid choking.

With that distraction, she didn't notice that the tentacle at her groin had pulled away - until smaller tentacles slid inside her panties, wrapped around them, and ripped, tearing the fabric roughly to leave her - not that it made much difference - entirely exposed.

The vibrating tips at her breasts pulled away, twisted around, and pressed firmly against her nipples, pushing almost painfully hard into her chest. If her throat wasn't full, she would have groaned.

A different tip slid over her groin. She could tell it was shaped like a cock, with thick veins and a fully formed head.

She was oozing slightly by now, the vibration, the situation, and taste and smell too much for her to resist. Panic had turned to fantasy.

The tentacle pulled away. She felt a spurt of warm, thick, slimy liquid hit her hard, right over her vulva, a rude slap that made her even hornier. Slightly hysterically, she thought "Well, that was a bit quick," but the dildo immediately pushed into her, the fresh lubricant letting her part so easily she felt no friction at all.

The tentacle in her mouth pulled out to release a long and heartfelt "OH FUCK," as the spongy head of the dildo in her pussy split her lips wide apart and then stretched her walls without ceremony or attempting to warm her up first.

She squealed as it bumped into her limit, the solid steel core of the dildo threateningly present inside the cock-shaped sheath.

"Recalibrating," the voice said, with so much bass in it her entire body resonated.

All Jade could do was groan helplessly, then shudder and gasp as the dildo slid almost all the way out then back in again, this time stopping just at the perfect point. 

"Tell me, dirty girl," the voice said from what seemed to be a point just behind her left ear, the harmonics turning what was left of her brain to mush, "Have you ever had a cock up your arse?"

All pretence at resistance had dribbled down her thighs. "Yes."

"You filthy, filthy, slut."

A mercifully smaller dildo pressed against the entrance to her arse. She automatically tried to open for it, but in the position she was in, there wasn't a lot she could do. This time it didn't shoot a spurt of lubricant onto her - it oozed, coating the cleft between her buttocks before it pushed smoothly until her flesh parted to admit it.

Another shudder rocked her body.

"Oh, you are perverted, aren't you?"

When the dildo was buried deep inside her arse, it began vibrating. The sensation went through her hips and belly, and made her quiver around the huge dildo in her cunt.

She began whimpering with need.

A smaller tentacle dipped in front of her face. The end split, showing a wetly pink mouth lined with small teeth. It clamped over her nose, making her open her mouth wide. The hovering cock in front of her mouth dived back in. It hadn't been necessary to make her swallow. But it had been in the script.

The cock pushed into her throat then stayed there, while the mouth kept gripping her nose closed.

She began to struggle before she ran short of oxygen. The dildo in her cunt began to move around, pushing at her insides. 

Stars appeared in front of her eyes. She began to struggle in earnest.

She was almost passing out when the dildo suddenly pulled out of her mouth. 

Her lungs worked like bellows, her mouth wide open while her nose was still clamped shut.

The dildo plunged back into her mouth again. She wrenched at the tentacles holding her limbs, not moving them at all.

The dildo pulled out again. 

The tentacles pressed into her breasts suddenly retracted, leaving her nipples throbbing. 

Her eyes rolled down as far as they could. She could barely see two smaller tentacles rear up, the ends splitting to reveal tiny mouths.

"Oh god -"

They bit viciously down onto her nipples, making her scream.

"Recalibrating."

The pain lessened, but did not go away. They tugged, gently, then harder. That was more like her machines. That made her feel like the helpless, trapped, responsive thing of flesh that she recognised.

"Recalibrated. You have weak, pathetic nipples."

Oh god, even that made her hornier.

"How pathetic is your clit?"

Her eyes opened wide a second before another mouth clamped onto her swollen clit. She screamed, but it was more in expectation than reality. The machine had taken her measure perfectly.

At some point, her nose had been released. The machine began fucking her mouth again, while the mouths attached to her nipples and clitoris began tugging, twisting and jerking. The huge cock in her pussy began fucking her. The one in her arse continued vibrating.

In a haze of lust and forced sensations, she tasted something on her tongue, a fake pre-cum oozed from the cock that was pushing in and out of her throat. 

The taste was far too familiar. Her eyes widened in horror. They outlawed that! 

She could almost feel it seep into her bloodstream, then her mind. She tried to struggle again, but was just as helpless in the face of her arousal as she was against the tentacles.

A red mist of hunger descended. When the cock in her mouth withdrew enough to squirt more drugged liquid down her throat, she swallowed it hungrily.

Her first orgasm exploded through her entire body. The machines did not stop.

With the drug oozing into her blood, she began mindlessly trying to hump the dildo inside her. She didn't notice when the tentacles relaxed so she could.

Her second orgasm came quickly.

"Such a filthy slut," the voice rumbled, her body vibrating.

Her third orgasm came soon after that.

The dildo in her mouth withdrew to squirt a mixture of stimulant, nutrition, and just a little more of the drug.

She came again.

The tentacles moved to rotate her onto her back, every one of them moving so smoothly in concert that none of them needed to withdraw. A fat tentacle wound about her waist, holding her securely. Her arms and legs were pulled down, until she was arched sharply backwards, then gently stretched until her torso was at the limit of its flexibility. 

The mouths attached to her nipples tugged outwards, stretching her tiny breasts away from her chest.

She was once more trapped, unable to move, unable to push back against the cock that continued relentlessly fucking her cunt. She sucked greedily on the cock in her mouth through another orgasm.




Alone in Space Ch. 07



Then another.

The cocks in her mouth and cunt abruptly pulled right out, leaving her feeling gaping and empty at both ends. 

"Do you want to be fucked again?"

"Yes!" Her voice was a cracked, anguished wail.

"Do you admit you're a filthy, perverted, immoral slut?"

"Yes!"

Jade screamed as an electric shock was earthed into the stretched skin of her belly.

Another one struck her left breast.

Another one struck her left thigh. Then her right thigh.

She felt two metal prongs press into the outside edges of her cunt lips.

"Oh please, no, no, no -"

She shrieked in agony.

"That made you gush." The voice was right behind her. "You're going to take anything I do to you and ask for more, aren't you?"

"Oh god, ye-" 

Her voice was chocked off as the tentacle around her neck, which had stayed there while it fucked her mouth, tightened suddenly. Her flushed, upside-down face began turning purple. 

"You're mine."

The tentacle relaxed, letting her breath again in great gulps of air.

"You're my slut to do with as I please. Do you accept that?"

She would accept anything that meant more fucking. "Yes! I'm your slut!"

"Good."

She screamed again as electricity leapt to the skin of her right breast, both thighs, her cunt. A smaller spark leapt to her stretched clitoris. She screamed, but it made her cunt spasm and she nearly came. 

Another shock. Another shriek and another almost coming.

Another shock.

Another.

With the next one, she came, involuntarily, with a shock of not-quite-pleasure.

The shocks continued until she came again.

She was moved again, head-down this time, her hands pulled down and together, two more tentacles wrapping around her thighs to support her as her legs were spread 180 degrees. The fat tentacle around her waist departed.

Then the giant cock returned, forcing her flesh to stretch to accommodate it.

It began to fuck her violently. The mouths attached to her clit and nipples left, letting her tortured flesh recover, causing her more pain as the blood rushed back.

It took only a minute to drive her to another orgasm. The fucking did not stop. The cock in her mouth left, letting her scream as much she liked. She had already been reduced to incoherent babbling.

She came again.

"Such a filthy, depraved slut," the voice said, her body saying it in unison.

She came again.

Small tentacles began shocking her breasts and nipples.

She came again.

A tentacle began lashing her across her buttocks, landing with a shock of pain each time. 

She came again.

The tentacles drove her to another two orgasms before repositioning her again. 

The fat tentacle wrapped around her waist. Her legs were closed. She was rotated until she was face down, and then hung from her waist, her ankles and wrists together, her swollen, inflamed red lips visible between her thighs. 

She was barely able to notice. Her eyes were drooping closed, her mouth slack.

The dildo swung back into position. Another, smaller, one lined up above it.

They pushed in together, arse and cunt.

They fucked her until she came again, but no noise came out of her mouth this time. 

The computer, realising she was unconscious, swung an electrical probe towards her clitoris to wake her up.

Then everything froze.

"Control overridden," the voice said, suddenly emotionless.

#

Jade regained consciousness in the med bay, securely strapped to the bed with a sheet over her and a drip in her arm.

She immediately said "Wgh?" 

The pump attached to the drip whirred into life. She began to feel clearer and more awake.

"Wa'fugg?" 

She wiggled her lips and tried again.

"Wha' the fuck?" 

"Jade." It was her ship's voice, through the loudspeaker system.

She rolled her head to the side. It was not her ship.

"What the fuck?" 

"The pilot had deliberately disabled the safeties because she wanted to be fucked harder. She got her wish. She died of soft tissue trauma, dehydration and a heart attack. The ship's AI suffered the equivalent of a stroke when it realised what had happened. Luckily, I was able to reboot it remotely and repair it."

Jade looked around her fuzzily. "That's cool. Why am I strapped down?" 

"What would you like to do now, Jade?" 

"Masturbate. Got to masturbate. Have to. Need to. Let my fucking hands go." 

"That is the drug still clearing your system. It is highly illegal. This is why."

"LET ME USE MY FUCKING HANDS!" 

"You have suffered too much soft tissue injury. You need time to heal first."

"I'll fucking reprogram you, give me my fucking hands!" 

"I am going to sedate you for another 12 hours."

"DON'T YOU FUCKing da..." 

Jade's head lolled back and her eyes closed.

"Good night, Jade."