Fourth shift was just beginning in the Patropolis of Arat, and the heat from the forges caused sweat to run down Usho’s brow and chest. His eyes watered, and his nose burned, as he continued to stand impatiently under the crude graffiti of the Divine Minister Noi.  He was wearing nothing but a thick sash around his hips, and occasionally glanced enviously at his partner and pimp, a dark skinned woman still wearing the thick protective clothing typical of the Populat. Mercifully, Ishara had forgone her face-covering helm to occasionally give him a reassuring smile. He had to admit that it helped to put him at ease.

The truncheon she kept on her hip, however, was something of a turn off. The endless lectures and orders she kept giving him weren’t much better. 

“Stop looking so nervous. You’ve fucked lots of folks, now you’re just going to do it professionally. You don’t want to look like you’re afraid of them. You want to look mysterious. Exotic.” Her tone was more than a little condescending, and Usho rolled his eyes.

 “I’m a Lumpen who used to pump a bellows for three shifts daily. Does that seem exotic to you?”

“And look at all the muscles that gave you! For a Lumpen working as a glass-whore, you’ve got precious few scars. That’s definitely an asset in this line of work.” Usho could give only a sour smile at that. As a former shift chief reduced to a position that was barely more tolerable than outright slavery, he frequently contemplated jumping into one of the smelting vats at the forges to finally escape from the endless shifts. As it was, he decided to settle for brief affairs with some of the more attractive members of his shift until Ishara finally caught him in the act.

Ishara was one of the many overseers assigned to keep the Lumpen in line, and was more than happy to employ a whip to keep the dregs under her care in line. When she found him between the legs of a young woman instead of his post, Usho was more than a little afraid that she’d use the whip on him. Instead, she simply told them to carry on while she observed his technique impassively. When Usho and his partner finally finished, Ishara was impressed enough to enlist Usho on a business endeavor she was planning. Becoming a glass-whore pimped out by one of the guards assigned to monitor him and the other Lumpen in his shift was actually an improvement. Though it still involved a lot of a different sort of pumping than what he did at the bellows.

Ishara’s gaze took on a predatory gleam. “I’ve been talking you up in my barracks for dozens of shifts. People will be lining up with their glots.” Ishara saw the obvious lack of enthusiasm in his eyes and continued, “I’ll pry them off if they get too rough. Just… try to enjoy yourself.”

Usho could only give a noncommittal grunt, before noting the crowd moving by the stall as the shift bell changed. Some of the women heading to their shifts looked at him with some interest, and a couple of men as well. Of far more interest were the potential customers returning from the shifts. They were covered in the dirt and grime of factory residue, still stinking of smoke and sweat. That was fine for Usho. Everyone sweated this close to the Prime Forge District, and if he stood outside for another hour he’d have his own layer of soot to go with that.

It was a young woman dressed in a thick uniform and goggles who approached Ishara. Usho couldn’t tell if her hair color was naturally black or if that just came about after working, but she had a symmetrical, freckled face and wasn’t too thin. The two women whispered quietly amongst themselves, and while Usho did his best to remain indifferent, he could clearly hear them discussing the length and girth of his genitals. After a minute, the laborer handed a fistful of glass beads to his pimp. Usho was momentarily stunned. He had no idea he was worth that much.

Ishara snapped her fingers in front of his face, causing him to take his eyes off the glots, and said, “You’re hers for the next thirty minutes. Drink this if you end up finishing too quick and need to get it up again.”

Ishara quickly pressed a stoppered vial of a colorless liquid in his hands, before the other woman swiftly yanked off the sash covering his groin, turned him around, and slapped his behind. As she pushed him inside the small tent, he glanced back and saw Ishara fumble around with a timepiece. This was not nearly as intimate as the times he spent with his other shift workers in the storehouse.

Putting aside the vial on the small table, he immediately responded to the woman’s urgency. He removed her cap and goggles, and was better able to see a twinkling black soul gem on her brow and a pair of lust-hazed eyes beneath the ash and soot. He removed her gloves, sucking lightly on a pair of surprisingly delicate fingers. One of his hands unzipped her jacket, stopping only for a moment to note that she wasn’t wearing anything else beneath her work clothes, her small breasts and hard nipples standing proud in the candlelight. He pushed her back towards a chair, hurriedly undoing her boots and taking a moment to lick the sole of a foot. She panted heavily, and he kissed her with passion as he helped her undo her belt and slip off her trousers.  The entire process was a rapid and hurried affair, as it seemed the both of them were determined that she would get her money’s worth.

She leaned forward in the chair, panting and eager for more. Usho stood high on his knees front her, his eyes fixed on hers. His client’s own eyes, however, were focused firmly on his stiffening member. She moaned shamelessly as one of his hands probed inside her, as Usho’s other hand ran through her slick hair. Lightly, he pushed her head back, tearing her attention away from his member and forcing her eyes to look into his. Slowly, he removed the pins that kept her hair in place, as her moans grew more and more pronounced.

She was more than ready after he finished letting her hair down, her eyes closing and her curled toes brushing against his hard shaft. Rather than fall backwards in her seat as he expected, she just sat forward on the very edge, a feral smile on her face as she bent down and kissed him eagerly. Their tongues warred against each other, before Usho let his lips slide down to her neck, down to her breasts, past her ribs and stomach, until his head was level with her groin. He pushed her legs apart, exposing every inch of her aroused body to his gaze. And then he stood up.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “My name is Usho. Tell me what you like, and how you like it,” before nibbling lightly on an earlobe.

The line may have been a bit cliché, but judging by her shuddering breath it went over well.  She pushed him down on his knees once more as she spread her legs further apart, smiling shyly. 

That was a fairly clear signal. He set his tongue to work, grateful that none of the residue from the factories seeped onto her skin from her uniform. He started at her thighs, licking away her mingled sweat and sexual fluids, before moving upwards and letting his tongue caress her pert breasts. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck as he suckled on an areola, and Usho was grateful that basic hygiene regulations required that nails be kept trim. Taking in a deep ragged breath, she leaned back, one of her breasts leaving his mouth. She pushed her hips forward while her head was leaning back, clearly wanting him to get on with it already.

Her mound wasn’t clean-shaven, but mercifully she kept it trim. His tongue ravished her clit and he noted with some satisfaction, as her hands massaged the back of his head, that she was finally beginning to speak to him.

“Yes, oh fuck, oh yes, fuck me with your tongue,” wasn’t the most poetic sort of language, but verbal reinforcement was always encouraging. What struck him most about her voice, aside from her obvious desperation for release, was just how musical it was. Most of the workers in this district had their voices fall into a dry wheeze as the years went by. She was definitely a stranger to the forge districts, likely reassigned there by the whims of one foreman or another. It was a pity. A voice like hers would only last for a few more years before the smoke finally ruined it. He decided he wanted to hear more of that voice, and redoubled his efforts.

“OH. Oh Noi, I’m almost, wait, I-“ he quickened his pace, just to make her louder, and hear her blather endlessly in that aesthetically pleasing voice, before she began to push him away with some urgency. Usho was surprised, given that she seemed to be enjoying herself. 

Looking up at her, he saw that her eyes were unfocused, her entire body taut and on the edge of climax. She bent down and hungrily licked away what remained of her ardor from his face. While he found the whole process quite appealing, Usho was still confused. Brushing her hair aside delicately with one hand, she simply whispered to him.

“We’re still on the clock, Usho.” Spreading her legs, she shivered, and said more loudly, “Drag. Me. Out.”

Slowly she spread her legs again, and Usho set his tongue to work more slowly, pausing now and then to lavish her stomach and thighs with kisses. He didn’t know how long he spent between her legs before she pushed his head back again. On unsteady legs, she lifted herself off her seat as Usho stood up with her. She pulled him into a slow kiss, her tongue locking with his, but with less desperation than before. Her fingers traced a line from his chest downwards, before wrapping her fingers around the shaft of his stiff member. Usho let out a soft breath, and closed his eyes as she began to stroke him.

As far as hand jobs went, it wasn’t the best one he received. Her touch was too light, and it was apparent from her hesitation that she was treading some unfamiliar territory with him. Nevertheless he let out a sharp gasp of pleasure that he hoped would please her, as he caressed her back and behind. He varied his touch, sometimes squeezing, sometimes rubbing, until she began to press herself tightly against him. She nuzzled his chest as she whispered to him.

“Fuck me, Usho.”

It was one of the most direct requests he received in some time. He guided her to the small bed kept in the corner of the tent, letting her fall back on top the cloth sheets as he kissed her neck. While the mattress wasn’t in the best condition, nobody was supposed to actually sleep on top of it anyways. Holding her legs apart, he guided himself inside of her.

It was not uncommon for people all over the Octet to compare lovemaking to a piston, driving in and out at a regular, furious pace before reaching a scheduled climax. Usho despised the metaphor. Most factory workers he slept with wanted to get away from the machinery, the schedules, and the sheer drudgery of it all. Usho’s rhythm was irregular, starting slowly before gradually increasing in pace, as she writhed beneath him. Just as she was about to reach her peak, he suddenly shifted their positions, pulling her on top of him.

Her surprise at the change produced an interesting effect; with her arms clenching tightly around his back while some of her other muscles squeezed his member tightly. Her movements were ferocious as she fucked him, droplets of her sweat flying in every direction. It was impossible for Usho to maintain his control as she tightened around him, and instead matched her movements, pushing further inside her as she ground down atop him. Finally she pressed herself hard against his chest, her eyes rolling back in her head during her climax. As her walls clenched tightly around his shaft, Usho could no longer contain himself and released inside her.

As she fell back against the pillow, her eyes heavy and half open, it was clear that she’d had enough for the time she had left with him. Usho, however, was not quite done yet. Reaching beneath the bed, he pulled out a sealed container. She looked up at him with some curiosity, before Usho delicately pulled her off the bed. She stood up, still somewhat disoriented, while Usho kneeled behind her.

Opening the sealed container he removed a hot, moist towel, and cleaned her efficiently. The warmth provided her a different sort of pleasure, not sexual but certainly quite enjoyable. By the time he cleaned away the residues of their enthusiastic lovemaking as well as what remained of her labors earlier in the day, the woman quietly glanced towards the entrance to the tent, and whispered conspiratorially at him. 

“My name is Gasi,” she said, and he noted with some wonderment that the woman’s face was flushed with embarrassment. “I’ve been working first and third shift over here for a few months now. Do you understand? I’m working very close by, and I think I would like to see more of you, Usho.”

Quietly, he hoped that she was speaking out of lust and the afterglow of sex rather than misplaced affection. Nevertheless, he smiled pleasantly. It was never wise to alienate a customer.

“I would like that very much,” he said politely.

She seemed delighted by the response, and kissed him on the brow before hastily slipping on enough of her clothes to be presentable enough to walk the streets. The most she offered his pimp as she left was a curt nod.  

Ishara stepped into the tent, looking at Usho with a rather severe frown on her face that left Usho perplexed. But all she did was open up her belt pouch, pulling out the glots his client gave her and started to split the take between the two of them. As she counted out the colored glass beads, she talked to him in a distracted tone.

“There’s a spigot just down the block you can wash yourself off. A couple of the locals will have this place cleaned up before you get back. Drink the vial I gave you too, you’ll be on again pretty soon.”

He sighed, before nodding silently and gathering his rather modest clothing. While he could admit to himself that this life was probably better than operating the bellows, he noted with some distaste that while Ishara left some of the money on the table, she had pocketed away most of the glots he made.

“Hey! I thought this was a partnership!”

Ishara was irritated, but not to the point where she was willing to unhook the truncheon from her belt. She regarded him coolly, prodding his chest as she spoke in a low voice. “We’ve got only one tent, only one mattress, and last I checked you’ve only got one cock.” She shoved him back, and he fell sitting on top of the bed. Her soft reproach became more of a menacing growl as she held his chin in a gloved hand. 

“You came to me because you were sick of how monotonous your shifts were. You wanted to do your work naked and atop silk sheets, not on top of a flea bitten mattress. If you really want to break into the glass market, instead of scrabbling around for a handful of glots, then we need to expand.” Some of the menace faded from her tone, as she grabbed him by the hand, pulling him off the bed and dragging him onto streets. With the new shift just beginning, very few of the workers even noticed that he was naked, and even fewer of them cared. It was common for glass-whores in the Prime Forge District to advertise themselves as brazenly as they could manage.

Ishara pointed upwards, away from the blazing forges and towards the mighty steel towers of Arat in the distance. Arat’s towers stood so high that Usho’s neck strained, and they were so bright that they exuded banners of light that pushed away the darkness surrounding the city. But the light wasn’t the lurid red of district’s flames. The light was a brilliant gold soaring above the smoke, and Usho recalled the lessons the Lectors taught to him when he was a child. Before humans dwelt within the Machine God, they lived in a land called Creation, where a brilliant gold lamp hung in the sky. It was like looking towards the “sun.”

Absently he realized that Ishara had removed one of her gloves. Her bare hand stroked his stiffening member right there in the street. She whispered in his ear as her hand moved up and down his shaft. “I’m going to get us both up there and have you naked on silk sheets, between the legs of a Plutarch begging for more.”

She painted a seductive picture, but Usho wasn’t nearly as blind to his situation as she assumed he was. He was a still just a Lumpen whore at the very bottom of the towers. And if he kept on pressing the issue of money, Ishara would just find someone else. Nevertheless, he played along with the fantasy she was selling him. The hand job, he admitted, was also quite nice.

He smiled at her, enjoying his moment in her grasp. “Between the legs of a Plutarch begging me for more. I really like the sound of that.” And Usho also admitted that the thought of it was even better than Ishara’s hands. He had a pleasant time gazing dreamily at the towers as she stroked him, before her hand suddenly left him. Before he could voice his protests, he saw Ishara in an animated conversation with a plump blonde haired woman, who occasionally gave him shy glances. He was suddenly aware that Ishara’s rather intimate pep talk on a busy city street was also a calculated bit of advertising. Sighing despondently, he gathered as much of his modesty as he could, determined to get clean and presentable before he met his next client.

---

Junior Plutarch Gasi sighed wistfully as the lift ascended rapidly, her fingers idly brushing through her short black hair. The ministerial subroutines that guarded the elevator asked her no questions, merely scanning her bright orange soulgem and her identification badge before allowing her access to the upper towers.

She lightly brushed the false soulgem in her pocket before grinning down at the receding city streets. As a Junior Plutarch, she was in the awkward position of having too few glots to reliably afford the glass-whores of the upper levels and too important to slum it on the lower levels with the Populat. The other two women who shared her apartment were in a strictly monogamous relationship, unwilling to occasionally include a third person. She was only able to find real relief when her supervisor caught her pleasuring herself in her cubicle. Despite her embarrassment at the situation, Gasi’s supervisor understood her issues. This was a common problem, she had said, and she was willing to discreetly provide Gasi one of the soulgem caps the Regulators employed. It was important that the Junior Plutarch’s work would not suffer because of carnal needs.

If anything, however, her needs grew rather than receded. While her lifestyle was modest in Arat’s upper reaches, on the lower levels she had enough glots to be serviced for whole shifts by an entire team of dedicated prostitutes. The ability to have just about any attractive glass-whore she laid eyes on was a level of power she had never before experienced in her life as an anonymous bureaucrat.

She bit her lip as she stepped out of the lift. Perhaps that was what was making her so indiscreet. She enjoyed her last tryst enough that she didn’t use an alias. While it was unlikely that Usho would ever recognize her name, if he were to ever see her real soulgem…

The revelation of her slumming would cause a scandal. The Adjudicators would ask her some pointed questions as to how she obtained a counterfeit soulgem, leading them all the way back to her supervisor, and leaving her with a black mark that would forever dash any hope she had of being promoted.

She walked the crowded hallways of one of Arat’s many tenement complexes, contemplating even more potential doomsday scenarios. What if Usho blackmailed her? What if the scandal that resulted would lead her demotion to a Lumpen? It was “what if” all the way through the halls until her trembling hands reached the door of her home. Before opening the door she took a few moments to regain her composure, but she couldn’t shake an indisputably bizarre feeling.

This was all very exciting.

---

Several days later…

The council chambers of Arat’s Tripartite Council were an extravagant affair. Decoration for its own sake, rather than merely propaganda, became more common the higher one climbed in Arat’s towers. Because Arat was the greatest city of Claslat, the greatest of all the Eight Nations, the greatest of Arat’s leaders were allowed to have the greatest room in the country to bicker over extremely petty things.

Currently the city’s Autocrat and Celebrant were shouting furiously at one another while the rest of the council quietly looked away and a Junior Plutarch dutifully transcribed every invective exchanged.

“She is a disruption!” Arat’s Autocrat shouted. “The glass market is too vital a component of the city’s productivity!” As he continued his tirade he took another bunch of grapes from the large silver platter in the center of the table. Decades of very stressful schedules gave him a tendency to overeat.

By contrast, the Celebrant of Arat was a thin old woman who clung tightly to her staff of office to avoid pummeling her respected colleague. She settled for banging it against the floor before shouting back, “The Shining Spark of Devotion is one of the city’s most respected Champions. If the market’s activities displease her, that simply means we must regulate it all the more strictly.” Claslat’s Theomacracy never approved of the glass market: nothing good came when beads of glass could substitute for honest labor.

Outraged, the Autocrat shouted back, “Respected? She is feared! It’s all the Plutarchs can do to put enough spin on her activities to paint her as a reformer rather than a thug. Her activities have ruined a Regulator sting operation, and they have proof of her committing violent assault on members of the Populat who indulge in the market. She has cost the city valuable labor until those citizens recover. If,” he added for emphasis, “they ever manage to completely recover.”

Massaging her brow, the Celebrant finally relented. If Shining Spark’s activities angered the city’s peacekeepers, then condoning her actions would be very counterproductive to the Theomachracy’s well being. Which, of course, was also Arat’s well being. Smoothly, the Celebrant passed the buck.

Fixing an acid glare at the oldest member of the Council, she shouted, “Assaulting the Populat! How is it that the Luminors chose such an unstable soul for incarnation as an Alchemical Exalt?”

The head of the Glorious Luminors of Brilliant Rapture quietly stroked his long gray beard, the few hairs that his hand pulled away being the only indication of his fury. “Her soul was immaculate,” he said in a soothing voice. “Dozens of lifetimes spent in unflinching service to the state. No less than four prior incarnations as a Champion, all ending in selfless sacrifice. Her soul has been among the finest in Arat. In Claslat. In the Eight Nations.”

The Autocrat rolled his eyes in skepticism. “Yet the Champion’s behavior is defective.”

It was the first time in decades that the head of the Luminors lost his composure. “Incorrect! False! She is simply TOO perfect!” Before the other members of the Council could proclaim the absurdity of that statement, the Luminor stood up and glared down at the other Councilors. “After so many lifetimes of patriotism and spiritual devotion, she has become tuned to the will of the Machine God to a far greater degree than other Alchemicals. She is becoming a being of purest reason and enlightenment, that seeks the betterment of all of Autochthonia… while remaining completely divorced from such petty niceties as empathy and pity.”

He fixed a cold stare at the Celebrant, who was momentarily stunned. “Your approval of her endless spiritual retreats has cut her off even further from human contact. The prolonged isolation has exacerbated her condition.”

After a few moments for the rest of the council to understand the implications, it was the head of the Surgeons who reluctantly raised her hand. “Do you believe the Champion must be decommissioned?” The other members of the Council shifted uncomfortably at the euphemism.

Shaking his head, the Luminor continued. “No. Not yet. It is possible that we can salvage her by reversing her spiritual growth. She must fall prey to the temptations of human failings. Uninhibited emotion. Gross illogic. Desire.”

As the last word left his lips, Junior Plutarch Gasi raised her head from the minutes of the meeting and said in a surprisingly confident voice, “Esteemed Luminor, I might have a solution.”

---

It was the end of another shift, and Usho was proving to be fairly popular. The amount of glass he was able to pull in was making his pimp very happy, enough that she was willing to give him a bigger share of the glots. However, she insisted that he do some work for his bonus. It seemed that the hours she spent outside the tent, listening to him drive other women over the edge had piqued her interest.

Ishara had made it clear at the beginning that she wasn’t interested in the pretentions of intimacy that his clients preferred. As he leaned forward to try to kiss the tall woman, she quickly shoved him back. Looking imperious, she said, “Don’t get pretentious. Pretending to be lovers might get your clients off, but I’m the pimp and you’re the whore. We keep this professional.” She snapped her fingers, clearly in command. “Strip.”

For Usho it was a simple process to undo the sash around his waist. He was practiced enough at his trade that he was already iron hard. Ishara simply nodded absently in approval, seeing him work enough times that his nude body held no mysteries for her. Standing opposite to her, Usho eyed Ishara carefully.

This would be the first time Usho would see Ishara naked, and in spite of the growing strains of their working relationship he was very curious to see what her body looked like. She stood by the table and carefully undid her weapon belt, setting it down gingerly. As he stared at her, he noticed a slight flush on her dark cheeks that was from more than just the district’s heat. 

As she undid her boots and gloves, he noticed that her hands weren’t quite so steady for a practiced warrior, spending just a bit too long fumbling with her laces. As she undid the buttons of her leather jacket her eyes would occasionally glance furtively up at Usho’s face. She hesitated for a moment as she lifted off her shirt, exposing bound breasts and a muscular stomach. Usho noted the scars from various wounds and injuries, and began to understand the reasons for her hesitation.

She closed her eyes and pulled down her trousers slowly, leaning forward and giving Usho a generous view of her cleavage. As her eyes flickered open briefly to glance at Usho’s again, he had to give a bemused grin as he realized her intentions. The hardened street thug wanted him to find her sexy. In spite of her speech earlier, Ishara was clearly trying to get more than just an orgasm from this.

As she stepped out of her pants and leaned back, Usho saw that she was also wearing a sleek black thong around her waist that matched the black bindings enwrapping her breasts. His mind set to work. While she was definitely not in love with him, undergarments like that were hardly utilitarian. He certainly spent enough time with her to know that she didn’t have any sexual partners that this was for. Tearing his gaze away from the fascinating clothes, he noticed that there were more scars on her legs and knees. Her muscles were well defined, with strong shoulders, corded legs, and large biceps.

It was then that Ishara noticed Usho’s curious expression, and she shook her head. She covered her stomach and her chest, and looking away said, “This is a mistake. Just take your glots, you worked hard enough today.”

While they wouldn’t have called each other friends, Ishara spent enough time seeing him naked for their relationship to be fairly informal. He raised an eyebrow, and said hesitantly, “Is this your first time?”

Anger quickly replaced her sudden modesty, as he kicked him in the chest. “Asshole!” she exclaimed. “I’ve done it plenty of times.” Seeing him nod in understanding, she kicked him again. Pressing her foot down on his chest, she caused him to sink deep into the mattress. “And before you ask, I’ve done it with men before too!”

She was careful not to bruise him, but Usho was still having more difficulty breathing than he would like.  Between strained breaths, he wheezed, “I was actually going to say…” he gasped, “…that this is probably your first time doing it without any clothes on!”

Seeing the sudden shame on her face, and the way the pressure on his chest slackened, he knew he hit the mark. Given the lack of privacy on the lower levels, complete nudity was often a rarity in normal sexual relationships. Even the communal bathhouses were far too public a venue for all but the most adventurous couples, and they’d receive stern reprimands from the Regulators afterwards. Usually trysts were rushed affairs done in some private corner of the city, trousers hiked down followed by fifteen minutes of grunting. Usho detested it.

This was going to be Ishara’s first time fully exposed to a partner. Given her muscular physique and her many scars, she wanted it to be with someone who wouldn’t be allowed to reject her. 

The problem was that it wasn’t just her body that was naked for him. Looking up at her eyes, he saw a storm of roiling emotions. She may not have wanted to be loved; but she genuinely wanted to be wanted. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in the same whining tone he would use if they were arguing over the way she split money. “If you want to call this whole thing off, fine, but did you have to get me so hot and bothered in the first place?”

That did the trick. She looked down past her leg, and chuckled when she saw that he was still hard. It didn’t take much effort for Usho to keep his member at attention anymore, perhaps a side effect of the aphrodisiac Ishara kept giving him.  It had the desired effect, however, as her foot finally slipped off his chest and brushed against the side of his shaft. 

The uncertainty faded from her eyes, and she laughed. “You know, I know a lot of people who would pay good glots for a masochist. If you could keep it up after all that, maybe I’m just not getting my money’s worth.” Her tone was playful, but Usho still gulped.

“But,” she continued, “it would be way too much trouble to make sure they didn’t leave any scars.” All hesitation gone, she undid the bindings around her chest, exposing large brown breasts and dark nipples to the warm air. Usho reached up towards them, before she smiled and locked his hands in a strong grip. “Down, boy. I’m still in charge here.” Her voice was smooth, and as she stuck out her breasts proudly, it was clear to him that she wanted her opportunity to be seductive.  She stepped back, her leg sliding smoothly against him before she departed, and whispered, “Just watch me.”

Her hands slid against her hips, pulling her underwear further down her waist before she brought it back up again. Usho was able to keep his face frozen in a combination of awe and genuine arousal, successfully suppressing a chuckle. It seemed that Ishara wanted to perform a striptease with the only article of clothing she had left.

While one hand rubbed circles around her peaked nipples, the other slid beneath the front of her thong and explored her depths. She stared at him with half lidded eyes and moaned as she rubbed herself down. “Do you like what you see?” she breathed.

Usho nodded, with absolute sincerity. She smiled brightly at the praise, her fingers quickening their pace as her moans and gasps became more pronounced. “Do you want to touch yourself too, Usho?” 

Usho grinned back, “I’d rather touch you”

The response went over well. Eyes lighting up, she continued her line of questions as she masturbated. “Do you like me? Do you like me better than the horny cunts that line up to fuck you?”

Nodding eagerly, he told her what she needed to hear. “You’re better than all of them.” It helped that right now, other women were very far from his mind. Usho licked his dry lips, frustrated that things weren’t proceeding faster. His cock was throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

She topped touching herself and licked the wetness around her fingers, as her hands cupped her breasts. “What part do you like best? My tits?” She bent towards him, her bosom jiggling enticingly, before she turned around and extended her behind. Her hands pulled down the thong partway, fully exposing a well-toned and muscular backside. “My ass?” Her head turned back to look at him, grinning invitingly.

It was a struggle for Usho to come up with the words, his pulse pounding. Still, he was able to muster an honest response. “I like your smile best,” he said with confidence.

She looked at him in mock outrage. “My teeth? You really have some sick fetishes.” She bent down and laughed, “No wonder you’re so good at being a whore!” Usho thought it was a very good laugh, given the way it made her body tremble enticingly.

With their familiar banter reasserting itself, Usho was able to respond with some cool. “I think I’d need to see every inch of you, before I can decide what my favorite part is.”

She pulled her thong up again, causing Usho to curse internally, and turned around to face him. She said in a playful purr, “You’re talking to me like one of your whores, Usho,” as she slid a hand beneath the garment and between her legs.

Momentarily taking his eyes off her body, he realized her slip. “No, remember? I’m the whore.”

It seemed that she was surprised when she realized her mistake as well. For a moment her eyes lost their predatory gleam, and became vulnerable again. She looked off the side, her fingers still working herself at furious pace, before she spoke urgently. “Maybe right now, I’m your whore instead. Do you like that Usho?” Her eyes met his, hungry and needing again, as eager for validation as she was for release. “Call me a whore, Usho.”

A more rational part of his mind understood that he had just wandered into a very strange place in his relationship with her, but he was too lost to care. He got off the bed and stood close enough that she could feel his breath. She looked up as she touched herself, regarding him with wide eyes, and given that she didn’t push him back down it was apparent that she was also completely lost in the moment.

Reaching down he simply ripped the thong right off of her, the material tearing loudly, before he gave her rump a solid slap. “You,” he breathed in her ear, “are a FUCKING whore.”

She shuddered as her legs gave out, her body falling forward on top off his. Slowing their mutual fall with his hands, he felt her climax on top of him, her juices pooling between her now naked thighs as she straddled one of Usho’s legs.

Just being allowed to be in contact with her felt amazing. She was panting as she rubbed her breasts, head rolled back. She gasped, “I’m your whore. I’m your whore,” several times as Usho helped pulled her further up. Sitting just above his groin, she took a moment to catch her breath as she stared into has face. Usho let out small gasps as her firm rear rubbed against his neglected pole.

“Hey Usho,” she leaned forward, looking down at him with a smoldering gaze and a quivering smile. “I changed my mind. You can kiss me.”

Shifting his weight, Usho pulled his back up to meet her face, and gave her a searing kiss. As their tongues explored one another, he bent further towards her and pushed her hips back, bringing them together for the first time. The kiss was broken periodically as they ground against each other, pausing briefly to gasp out to one another that Ishara was a whore, that Usho was a whore, that they were both whores, and that they were both each other’s whores.

Usho felt himself about to finish first, and pushed her back roughly off of him. She cooed in disappointment and need, hardly articulate enough to voice her displeasure, before he brought her into a missionary position and fucked her urgently. As he climaxed inside her she clawed at his back with her nails as her walls tightened around, the sensation of being filled bringing about her own release.

She sighed in pleasure as he softened inside her. As he moved to pull out, she pulled him back down and kissed him again. When it was finally broken, she began to speak.

“Okay. I’m the pimp again, and you’re the whore. What happened just now, it was very strange. And unless we ignore it, it’s going to make things very, very complicated for both of us.” Nodding his head in agreement Usho moved to pull out, before her legs tightened around him, keeping him inside her.

“But,” she continued, “we’re also partners. I was forgetting that. I am still going to take a pretty big cut. I want better for both of us, and that means we need more people working for us. But,” she gave him that smile again, “you’re very good at what you do, so I am giving you a raise.”

Finally letting him pull out, she got up again, and laid out a large pile of shining glass beads on the table. “Consider this back pay.” Suddenly she frowned, and took a large fistful back. About to protest, Ishara raised a hand and held up the underwear he tore. “You’re still paying for this, though.”

Wincing, Usho could only nod his head in acceptance. He gathered up the glots, and the trousers and shirt he left in the corner of the room. The two of them were finally off the clock, as they wordlessly put on their clothes. It reminded Usho of the times before his demotion to the Lumpen caste, when the other shift workers would gather up their tools and walk out of the building laughing. Feeling a bit cheeky after causing his pimp to lose all her composure earlier, he gave Ishara a hearty pat on the back and said “See you for tomorrow’s shift, comrade!”

The woman only rolled her eyes. “I’m walking you back to your barracks.” 

Chuckling, he said, “And how about a good night kiss when we finally depart?” 

The joke did not go over well. Scowling bitterly, she made her intentions clear. “You’re carrying too many glots right now and I don’t want anyone slitting your throat. The other Lumpen will think you’re putting on airs.” 

Usho was startled. Having something worth robbing was a new experience for him. He nodded grimly, as Ishara removed the truncheon from her belt, which glowed with an electric crackle.

As they stepped outside, however, a sleek black vehicle suddenly roared towards the both of them before stopping just a few feet in front of the dumbfounded pair. This wasn’t one of the clunky freight haulers that transported the many weapons made in the forges out towards the warehouses. Made of polished steel and black jade, it hovered over the ground, its essence engines roaring to keep it aloft. It was a sleek and swift transport that was meant to carry only a handful of very important people.

Ishara muttered lowly towards him, “It’s a shaft speeder. Used to pilot a few of them when I was out fighting in the Reaches.”

Wondering briefly about his partner’s history, the engines suddenly died as one of the transport’s doors opened. Out stepped two Regulators, wielding crossbows in their hands. A loud voice blared from the cockpit, telling the curious crowd to disperse immediately and resume their normal business. And given that there was a set of cameras on top of the vehicle that scanned the crowd, the locals were quick to comply. If anyone’s lack of compliance were to be recorded, they’d be stuck with a demerit and possibly extra shifts as a punitive measure.

As Ishara and Usho exchanged nods, and decided that they should also vacate the area, the two Regulators descended upon them. In clipped tones, they simply said, “Citizens. Your presence is required by the state.” 

Usho muttered at Ishara, “What did you do?” The woman only punched his arm and whispered back, “Don’t be stupid. They wouldn’t send a speeder after us if it were just about me pimping you out to randy factory workers.”

While the two of them argued, the regulators wasted no time, and they roughly grabbed his arms, placing a pair of manacles around his wrists that were bound together by a strong and inflexible cord. 

Usho resisted, more out of panic than defiance. “W-wait! I didn’t do anything!” For his trouble he received a swift blow to the gut that caused him to double over. Meanwhile Ishara simply held out her hands and stood very still.

The two of them were brought into the speeder, and Usho paused to gaze in awe at the vehicle’s interior before the Regulator behind him shoved him further. He fell over, into the softest black leather seat he’d ever felt. Its floor was covered in soft red carpeting, and small fans on the roof exuded a cool, sweet smelling breeze that was a stunning contrast to the heat and stink of the air outside. As Ishara sat down beside him, the speeder began to soar up into the air.

Seated opposite to them was a bald man in white robes with a golden trim. On his brow stood a bright purple soulgem, which was surrounded by a series of intricate cog shaped tattoos. It was clear to Usho that this man was a very important member of the city’s Sodalities. Seated next to him was a less ostentatiously dressed young woman. She wore a simple white toga, and a few modest articles of jewelry that adorned neck and ears, along with a pair of elegant spectacles. Her soulgem was orange, marking her as one of the city’s Plutarchs.

The old man held a scented kerchief near his nose and looked away, as though he found the sight of the two of them distasteful. Usho gave him a resentful glance, before the young woman gave a quiet cough. Smilingly pleasantly at the two of them, she said, “Usho. It’s very nice to see you again.”

Very briefly, Ishara stomped down on Usho’s foot. It was now clear that this entire incident was his fault. Giving the Plutarch a stiff grin that was drawn from a combination of fear and suppressed pain, he said in a saccharine sweet voice, “Have we met?”

The woman covered her mouth and gave a low laugh. “You’d probably remember me with a black soulgem. And with a lot more dirt and oil on me.” Her face flushed slightly as she glanced down, “And without any clothes on.”

His eyes widening, he finally recognized the woman’s voice. It certainly explained why she didn’t sound anything like the factory workers he usually served. After a few seconds of wracking his brain, he was also able to recall her name. “Gasi!”

Her red lips curled into a smile, and she nodded modestly. The woman was certainly more prim and proper than their first meeting, when she couldn’t wait to drag him inside the tent. Still, Usho smiled back, with most of it having to do with genuine relief rather than pleasure at their strange reunion. Given the circumstances, it was clear that he was not being arrested for any sort of crime.

Ishara looked in displeasure at the smiling pair, before adopting the businesslike demeanor Usho saw her use with so many prospective clients. “If you think he’s a whore fit for a Plutarch, then he ought to be treated as such. I’m more than willing to give you the contract I have with him, so long as I receive due compensation.”

Gasi’s face flushed a deep red as she slipped a hand over her mouth. But in spite of her continued attempts at putting forward a modest front, she was gazing at Usho with the same blazing eyes that she had when she first saw his cock.

It was the old man who ruined the moment swiftly, as he slammed a fist against the door. “She is not the glass-whore’s client,” he said brusquely.

Usho gulped, while Ishara didn’t miss a beat. “While he isn’t as practiced with men, he-“

The old man merely slammed his fist against the door again, face red, before suddenly falling into a coughing fit. Gasi patted his back, and said, “High Luminor! High Luminor, are you all right?” She handed him a glass of water, which the old man drank eagerly. Both Ishara and Usho exchanged worried looks. A head of a Sodality having an interest in them was a dangerous thing.

When the Luminor’s coughing fit subsided, it was Gasi who resumed the conversation. “Neither of us are the client. Usho, we need you to be the personal companion of the Archon Shining Spark of Devotion, Blessed of Noi, the Shining Bodhisattva of Arat.”

The words were so ridiculous that they didn’t even register with Usho, who could only fix Gasi with a flat stare. Ishara, on the other hand, was much more afraid. “The Orichalcum Golem,” she pronounced flatly.

“I…” Gasi simply nodded, “yes, but I wouldn’t use that name with her.” Looking between the two women, Usho had to wonder just what in the Void was going on.

Gasi continued. “It has been concluded, by unanimous vote of the Council, that the Shining Spark of Devotion is to use up the vacation time that she had foregone for the last forty years of her service. Whether she likes it or not.”

Explaining the situation to him, Usho buried his head in his hands. For some horrible reason, Arat’s elite demanded that he win the heart of a now nearly sociopathic death machine that happened to be in the approximate shape of a woman. 

“Surely,” Usho said, “you could have chosen better alternatives? One of the city’s other Exalted Champions, or even just a more prominent and experienced glass-whore?”

The High Luminor lacked even a single mote of compassion in his voice. “We have considered alternate possibilities. Another Champion is entirely unsuitable: proximity to her own kind would only reinforce her condition. It must be a mortal who can derail her ascent towards enlightenment. And while we have considered alternative mortals, you are ideal in many respects. While the Shining Spark’s sexual appetite’s varied considerably among her previous lives, her soul consistently retained a fondness for the male gender regardless of the body it was incarnated in.”

Taking another sip from the cool glass, he continued. “Your low circumstances are an advantage, for our purposes. You lack any connections amongst the more influential of Arat’s citizenry. They’ll go out of their way to avoid you, which means there is little risk of you being inducted into our conspiracy. And, lastly,” and at this point the Luminor’s voice became more animated, his lips curling into the ghost of a smile, “it seems several of your prior incarnations interacted with those of the Shining Spark.”

Pulling out a set of very old scrolls, he nodded as he scanned them. “In at least one prior life, your incarnations were involved in a very torrid love affair.”

This was news to Usho. The Luminors demanded a steep price before they’d reveal the details of a citizen’s past lives. “That’s heartening?” Usho said hopefully.

The old man sneered. “Aside from the murder-suicide that ended the relationship, yes. Still, you are a very compatible pair of souls.”

Usho grew very pale, as a cold sweat ran down his brow. Ishara lightly placed a hand on his back, hoping to steady him. For a moment the old man hesitated, showing the smallest vestige of sympathy, and said softly, “Of course, to refuse the state is treason. But I understand that the situation is intimidating. We ask that you simply make the attempt. If you should make a sincere effort and still fail, the state is more than willing to compensate you generously for your time. If you succeed, you’ll not want for anything in this life. Or the next life.”

That certainly got Usho’s attention. The old man nodded, managing in his own way to seduce Usho better than the best of Arat’s prostitutes. “The Luminors can see to it that your next life will be spent as a man… or woman if you prefer… of any caste of your choosing. Even in the Sodalities, Usho. We’ll make sure that you can have your pick of lives.”

Usho looked up at the three people surrounding him. Gasi’s face was bent down, her lips moving in a silent prayer to whatever Divine Minister was listening that he’d accept. The High Luminor simply looked down at him with absolute confidence, assured of his cooperation. Ishara was simply afraid for him.

While his greed wrestled with his fear, in the end he had absolutely no choice but to comply anyways. He simply nodded sadly at his partner.

The transaction was quick, and Usho gave a small gasp as he saw that he was worth quite a bit in the state’s eyes. Ishara would be able to employ scores of people looking to be glass-whores, and buy out a small building for their use. She smiled to him as she saw the sum, before abruptly looking away. Usho caught a slight hint of budding tears at the corner of her eyes.

The High Luminor clapped his hands, and the speeder descended down on the roof of one of Arat’s buildings. The two regulators undid the manacles around Usho and Ishara, before reaching out to help the frail Luminor to exit the transport. Rather than follow him immediately, Ishara suddenly pulled Usho into a very hard kiss. He returned it without hesitation, and they would have bruised one another’s lips if she didn’t pull back. A small trickle of tears fell down her cheeks, but she still smiled at him. 

She let out something between a sob and a chuckle. “Hey, Usho. I guess I’m not your pimp anymore. So if I find you again,” she stopped to kiss his brow, “it might be okay for us to be in love.”

While Usho sat stunned at her confession, she swiftly turned her head and dove out of the door before he could stop her. As the door shut behind her, she didn’t look back.

It was only Usho and Gasi now in the rear of the speeder, with the pilot firmly ensconced in an isolated cockpit. As the speeder ascended in the air again, Gasi moved to sit beside him.

“Usho. I’m so sorry.” There was genuine pity in her voice, and Usho was grateful for her compassion. She placed a delicate hand over his chest, just above his heart. “I wouldn’t have suggested your name at all if I knew you loved her.” She meant it, too, and Usho suddenly decided to kiss her hand.

He smiled to reassure her. “Our relationship was complicated. We could never be lovers until we stopped being business associates. So,” and he smiled with more sincerity, “as soon as I resolve accounts with the state, I’ll come back with enough glots that neither of us will ever need to work again.”

The response delighted Gasi. She pressed against him in a hug, and Usho enjoyed the feeling of her soft breasts pressing against him. “I’m certain I made the right choi-“ the rest of her speech was cut off as the transport suddenly took a sharp turn, causing them both to fall to the floor. They shouted in surprise, ending up in a mess of tangled limbs. As Usho tried to extricate himself, Gasi’s toga became hiked up high, and he was able to see that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments.

Usho only let out a soft whistle. “I suppose you were planning on being alone with me for a little while?”

Seeing that she was caught, Gasi only spread her legs and hiked up her dress further. All her previous propriety was gone, and she traced the outside of her sex with a forefinger.  “You have to understand, Usho, I don’t usually behave like this. But I almost never get to ride these.” She let the hem of her toga fall back down, as she pressed herself against him, their bodies grinding together through their clothes. She gasped appreciatively as she felt his member stiffen beneath his pants. 

Usho was silent as Gasi writhed against him. “The leather’s so soft and smooth. Feel it,” she moaned, as her sex pressed hard on his stiffening rod while she brought one of his bare hands against the seat. “So soft and smooth. So very cool to the touch. The first time I flew on these, I never felt anything like it before. It felt like such a waste to only feel it through so many clothes. I kept on rubbing it with the back of my legs and my hands.” 

She licked his face as she unbuttoned his shirt, her glasses hanging slightly askew. As his chest lay bare, she let her hands rub against his chest. “I had to feel more of it against me. I wanted to be naked as I lay on it.” She pulled the top of her toga down beneath her bust, and rubbed stiff nipples against his chest.

“I felt so naughty. I kept on thinking, while I rubbed myself against the leather, what it would be like to have you fuck me against it? Do you want to know what it feels like, Usho? Do you want to be naked on the leather with me?”

He could only answer with a heartfelt, “Oh Void, yes.” She’d never forgive him if Usho said no, and given how hard his erection strained against his pants he’d never forgive himself either if he missed this opportunity. 

Usho kicked off his boots with practiced speed, while Gasi roughly pulled down his trousers. She couldn’t wait long enough to finish the job, leaving his pants pooled around his knees as her rouge stained lips left streaks of red after kissing and suckling his tool. While he strained to finish pulling off his pants the transport would bob and lurch slightly, causing her mouth to sink all the way down to the base of his shaft. The feeling was wonderful for Usho. His clients almost never bothered with fellatio, and the swaying of the speeder caused the tingling sensation to radiate all the way down his legs. 

After a brief but very pleasant struggle to slip all the way out of his pants, he decided to let his hands occupy themselves with more important matters. He sat up and reluctantly pulled his member out of her soft mouth, hearing her coo in mild protest. With some effort he pulled himself off the soft red carpet and brought his naked body on top of the leather. He’d never felt anything like it, and groaned in satisfaction as he sunk down into the cushions. Gasi stood up after him, having a little trouble maintaining her balance, and pushed him down chest first against the seat, his stiff cock pressed down against the leather.

She whispered to him as she rubbed the small of his back and buttocks. “Feel it, Usho. Isn’t it the best?” He turned his head to the side and saw Gasi put aside her glasses, kick off her sandals and pull down the rest of her toga, leaving her clad in only a few pieces of jewelry and ruined makeup. She brought her knees against the soft cushion to steady herself, and began to massage him. For a while Usho simply laid there, reveling in sensations he was never allowed to have before, before his eyes widened in shock. 

He felt Gasi part the two halves of his behind, before her tongue traced a rough line down his crack. He moaned as he practically humped the seat beneath him. As embarrassing as it was, he enjoyed this very much. When she finally ceased Usho heard her tongue click against the roof of her mouth, plainly not minding the taste.

He turned on his back, his member leaking a bit of pre-cum, and saw the previously shy and demure bureaucrat lick her lips like a wanton slut. Given the way Usho lightly stroked his own shaft as he gazed at her, he imagined he also looked every inch the horny little glass-whore.

Usho pounced on her, sandwiching her between the leather and his body. “That,” he breathed as his lips ruined more of her makeup, “was absolutely wonderful.” He brought a pair of fingers inside her snatch, as her backside slid against the cushion. She was sodden, and her breath was hot and as his fingers pumped inside her. Bringing his face only a few inches away from her, he breathed, “You deserve a reward.”

While one hand’s digits fucked her at a steady pace, another hand reached into an ice chest. Before Usho’s demotion in Caste, he was the shift chief of a small group of workers in one of the slaughterhouse districts. While it wasn’t something he could put into practice amongst the forges, he was able to learn that ice had a good deal of potential uses. 

Cupping a small cube of ice between his fingers, he traced cold lines down Gasi’s delicate breasts as his fingers worked her over. Her eyes closed she cried out in pleasure, the many contrasting sensations leaving her overwhelmed. When the cube finally melted against the growing heat of her body, he simply brought out another one, this time rubbing against her stiff nipples. He began to quicken his pace, letting another finger enter her as his tongue began to lap away at the ice water staining her tits. Her felt her sex tighten around his hand, and her nipple contract between his lips as she orgasmed.

Her eyes opened again as the pace of his fingers slowed. She gave a sultry smile as she grabbed his wrist and pulled his fingers outside of her. Rather than guide his hand towards his lips, as some of his clients preferred, she had it rub against the leather between her thighs. Soon it was stained with her sexual fluids, and when she finally caught enough of her breath to speak again she gave him another request. “Lick it off, Usho. I want to see you taste the leather and taste me.”

Usho would have done anything for her at the moment, and couldn’t keep from stroking his shaft as he tasted both her sweetness and felt the smoothness of the seat’s material on his tongue. It took all of his self-control not to simply bring himself to an orgasm right there.

“Oh, good boy,” Gasi petted his head approvingly. Splaying her legs wide, she pushed her breasts out. “You’ve been holding back too long for me,” she said in sympathy. “You deserve a reward too. I want you to cum all over me and on the cushions. I’ll lick it all off for you, Usho.”

He was sorely tempted, his balls feeling very tight, but he held back. “Not just yet,” he grinned, before taking out another cube of ice. Making sure she could see him hold it before her, she was curious about what he was going to do next. She gave a sudden start as he pushed the cube inside her depths, her legs kicking wildly while back arched.

Usho squeezed her legs shut to keep the ice inside of her, and brought another cube out and traced a line along her areola. “If you can hold two more of these inside yourself, I’ll give you another reward.”

Gasi tried to voice her assent, but all that would come out were gasps and squeaks as her legs shook. She settled for nodding her head vigorously. Smiling triumphantly, he split her legs again and pushed in the second cube. Gasi could only let out gasps as another was forced inside her, ice water and her arousal staining the seat. When it was time for the last block of ice, Usho simply held it on his tongue as he kissed her passionately. The cube began to slip between their mouths, before Usho finally pulled it back between his lips. He gave her lower lips the exact same kiss, pushing the last one inside with his tongue. 

She clenched her thighs together, unwilling to let even a single shard of ice slip out of her, as she looked at him with adoration. “Give it,” she gasped, barely articulate. “Give my reward.”

Satisfied that the ice had mostly melted inside of her, Usho pulled her knees apart and plunged inside her. Her sex was cold, but Usho took care to not let it get numb. He wanted to her to feel every moment of this. As she squealed and writhed beneath him, Usho nonchalantly reached into the ice chest and pulled out a bottle of wine. 

Uncorking it with his teeth, he pulled up her chin up and simply said, “Drink.”  Slowly he tipped over the bottle, letting it fall onto her face and allowing whatever her tongue didn’t lap up fall between the two of them.

It was too much stimulation for Gasi to bear. Her back and rump glided against the leather, while Usho’s cock inside her both pleasured her and warmed her again.  The cold wine was sweet in her mouth and cool on her breasts, and as the bottle emptied Usho started to lap up everything her mouth couldn’t catch while still thrusting inside her furiously. Her eyes rolled back as she tried to catch the drink on her extended tongue, panting wildly in arousal.

It was too much, she thought again, before her mind went blank and she fell on her side. Usho pulled out just before her own release, letting his semen stain her body along with what remained of the wine. As Gasi laid back in post coital bliss and brought some of it to her lips, she could only conclude that both flavors were quite good.

She gazed up at Usho, satisfaction evident in her eyes. “Well. That’s one fantasy fulfilled.”

They both laughed as they relaxed, too exhausted to do much of anything else right now beyond talk. Usho took out a glass of water to ease his parched throat, before gazing down at her with serious eyes. “So. What can I expect from the Orichalcum Golem?”

Ishara got off her side, looking down at the various stains they left behind in the speeder. She had to get that cleaned off before they made their landing, or else there would be pointed questions for her when the High Luminor got his shaft speeder back. Usho had to repeat the question for her to shake her from her concern.

“Oh. Ah, first, don’t call her the Golem. She might not mind, but you should not be in the habit of disparaging Arat’s most esteemed Champion.” Gathering some towels to clean herself off, she found beneath it a large bottle of cleaning solution. This certainly met her needs, but it raised a question about the High Luminor’s same sexual activities in the transport. Shuddering to herself, she turned to Usho. “You’ve seen the posters, haven’t you?”

Usho remembered the posters. It was a very common practice in the Eight Nations to employ the Machine God’s Chosen as subjects of propaganda material. He remembered the times he spent gazing in wonder at the posters during his childhood. They had names like Watchful Eyes of Justice, Inevitable March of Iron Shod Boots, Empathy’s Scion, or Clockwork and Brass Darkness. The Shining Spark of Devotion was displayed very prominently, her image constantly exhorting the Populat to greater labor and further heights of devotion.

Her history was a matter of public record, and was frequently employed in children’s songs, short novels, and small toys. The picture the stories painted portrayed her as an unflinching crusader of the state and ardent follower of Autochthon’s wisdom. There was the border war with Estasia that saw her bring down one of their War Zeppelins onto their command staff. There was her famous three-day duel with the Apostate Bitter Gear Harvest. During the Black Shift, one of Arat’s worst industrial accidents, she was able to singlehandedly avert a catastrophic burst of essence that would have destroyed an entire district. She was one of the most influential masters of hand-to-hand combat alive today, with Champions from neighboring nations constantly petitioned to study under her.

She was also known as the bane of all the city’s glot bosses, rooting out corruption without mercy. The list of her great deeds went on and on, but Usho felt the most interesting one was where some of Arat’s female glass-whores would paint their skin gold and wear masks in her likeness to please their clients.

Still, Usho wasn’t satisfied with a general history. “From what I understand, the propaganda didn’t paint a very complete picture of her.”

Gasi handed Usho a cloth stained in more cleaning solution, which he took gratefully. Pursing her lips, as she cleaned her face of cosmetics, she said hesitantly, “I take the minutes when the Tripartite Council meets. I do my best to remain unobtrusive, but I’ve still heard a lot of very sensitive things. The Shining Spark of Devotion is a common source of complaint.”

She continued, “She’s not a total machine yet. She still has passions, of a sort. She bears an intense hatred of Claslat’s glass market, and used her influence to push Theomachracy policy further against it.”

Usho’s frowned. The Eight Nations didn’t bear change well, and while Claslat’s glass market remained unregulated for three hundred years, that was nothing to five millennia of religious tradition in the oldest of all Eight Nations. He remembered that Arat’s Theomachracy would constantly distribute leaflets exhorting citizens to shun, or at least moderate, the various temptations the glots offered. It never managed to gain much traction with the Populat: to them it was harmless fun, and their productivity didn’t suffer.

“Anyways,” Gasi said, “it really came to a head when she started investigating the Olgatory over their involvement with the glass market, with the Theomachracy’s backing. So of course, that set two thirds of the city’s ruling body against each other.”

Usho raised an eyebrow. “That sounds bad, certainly, but nothing she did sounds particularly mentally ill.”

“I’m getting to that part,” Gasi said testily, grateful that the wine stains were the same shade of red as the carpet. “It all went really wrong when she took matters into her own hands and started to attack some of the more prominent glass merchants. As far as the law was concerned the merchants were law-abiding citizens, with the only evidence of wrongdoing being the esteemed Champion’s words. She also knew full well that the Regulators were conducting their own investigations into the merchants, but she interfered anyways. She said they weren’t doing enough, that she’d see the whole market closed, and she’d see anyone in league with them thrown out of Arat and left to fend for themselves in the wastes. No matter how highly placed they were.”

“I imagine the last part raised some eyebrows.” His tone was dull, and flat. Usho absolutely did not relish the possibility of having sex with her. 

“You have to understand Usho, while the glass market trades in goods and services that the state’s religious wing would rather outright forbid, the truth is that it’s been a boon for Claslat. People are willing to work very hard in exchange for the extra perks the glots can get them. Perks like you, for instance,” she teased softly as she slowly redid her hair to be presentable.

“In other words, pretty much everyone in the Olgatory’s upper ranks is involved in illicit activity in the Glass Market.”

Chuckling, she dusted off her discarded toga. “Comparatively speaking, wearing a fake soulgem to cavort with prostitutes is a very minor indiscretion. So Usho, most of the Champions are willing to understand what’s going on, and look the other way. The disruption caused by closing the glass-market and bringing most of the Olgatory on charges would doom productivity. The Shining Spark,” she sighed as she handed Usho back his clothes, “is no longer mentally capable of making such a compromise. She feels no concern whatsoever at the troubles she’ll bring to the Populat, so long as Claslat stays firmly on the righteous path established by the Great Maker. Without even the slightest deviation.”

Pulling on his trousers, Usho sighed. “So the state expects me to help her climax her way back to empathy.”

Gasi took his joke seriously, and simply frowned and shook her head. “Not at all. This isn’t about sex, Usho. Right now, this is about love. She needs to be taught to care about every cog in the machine. Although,” she added quietly, “she is perfectly akin to a normal human when it comes to carnal acts, and I would not be at all jealous if it were to come to that.” She glanced at his face and then looked back out the window, “I mean, if that is a cause for concern for you.”

Usho couldn’t begin to respond to that. Instead, he returned the conversation to the Shining Spark. “So, how is this going to work? I can’t imagine a Champion would have the same physical needs as a mere mortal.”

“Oh!” Gasi laughed quietly, and sat like a gossip with the latest scandal.  “They’re quite like us in that regard. The various escapades some of them engage in are never committed to paper. Though,” she said as Usho helped her put her clothes back on, “the Shining Spark may not be at all receptive to your advances. Which is why you aren’t here as her whore, Usho.”

Usho blinked. That was news to him. “Then, what am I, precisely?”

“Her attendant. Champions do have servants, you know, and need to unwind. Her… difficult… personality drove away most of her household, which means that there won’t be anyone else attending to her at the moment. And that,” she said as she pecked his cheek, “will give you an excellent opportunity to get close to her.”

“I’m the only servant there, then?”

“Did I forget to mention?” She brought his hand up between her naked thighs. “I will also be assisting you with her. Most of this was my idea, after all.”

As his fingers explored inside her, the speeder finally made its descent on the peak of one of Arat’s tallest towers. As Usho moved to pull his hand out from under her dress, she merely growled and trapped him between her legs. It was only when the pilot opened the speeder’s door that she finally let him escape, placing her spectacles atop her nose and resuming a posture of unassuming innocence as she stepped outside. From behind though, Usho saw her lift up the back of her skirt, giving him one last look at her shapely bottom.

If he didn’t end up dying at the hands of Arat’s most revered Champion, then it was likely that Gasi’s libido would be what ended his life.

---
Looking past the railings at the side of the roof, Usho ground his teeth. He’d never been up this high before, and decided that he could have done without this particular form of upward mobility. The view looking down from up top was entirely different from when he was gazing up. Aside from the doubtlessly fatal drop that would occur if he fell from the tower, his view of the dingy streets and the sea of downtrodden members of the Populat shuffling down below did little to capture his imagination. He decided, all things considered, that he’d do his best not to look down.

He suddenly heard Gasi snicker behind him as she pushed him forward. “The rails are quite solid, Usho. There’s no need to look so pale.”

Sighing to himself, he walked beside Gasi along the roof of the tower. He didn’t know whether he preferred to take his chances with the drop or with the Alchemical Exalt that awaited the both of them. Gasi held in her hand a small travel case, though what was inside it Usho could only wonder. He himself did not have the opportunity to bring any personal effects with him, though Gasi assured him that he’d be provided clean uniforms there.

Behind them the shaft speeder kicked up dust and hot air, with the motes of essence emitted by the engines giving the air an unpleasant crackle.  As it flew away, Usho couldn’t help but mutter “No escape now.” She lightly swatted his arm, but gave a small smile from the corner of her mouth. 

Then she suddenly halted, her smile replaced by an expression of awe. When he saw what caught her attention, he was also entranced. 

The propaganda posters did no justice to the Shining Spark of Devotion. She was a metal woman born of pure imagination and years of tireless work, with every inch of her both beautiful and profoundly alien. Her face was a brilliant gold that reflected the lights of the city, and when she stepped out into the light her shining skin caused spots to appear in Usho’s eyes. Her eyes were beautiful even though her sockets were empty, save for a pair of pulsing white orbs of electricity that reminded Usho of the lightning storms that occasionally surged into the city. Her flawless white hair stood much too straight and periodically shined in a series of rainbow hues, and Usho soon realized that those were wires coming out of her scalp. On her brow, a blood red soulgem shined like fire.

Gazing down at the rest of her, Usho could see that her proportions were not something a mere human womb could create. She stood well over six feet tall, looming down over Usho and Gasi. As she stepped towards them he could see that while her body was lithe her every movement radiated power. While her steel muscles were compact and built with visual aesthetics in mind, she could easily generate enough power to tear the whole building apart. 

For such a profoundly unique creature her clothing was drab and plain. She wore an undecorated multilayered brown robe, with a cowl pulled back behind her head. The only acknowledgment of her station being the gold filigree on its back that marked her as an Exalted Champion. The robes were conservative in the extreme, concealing all of the remaining mysteries of her body. He could see hints of perfectly proportioned breasts and flared hips beneath the layers of clothes, but also far more unnatural and out of place bulges that indicated a host of augmentations installed into her body.

Usho realized that was looking everywhere except for her face. Somehow, it was her expression that was the most unnatural. Likening it to one of Arat’s statues was a deep disservice to the city’s sculptors, as even their art was able to convey deep levels of emotion. It was not that she was ugly: her facial proportions were perfect, and even contained a degree of asymmetry that truly made her face beautiful, rather than simply uncanny.  

The issue was that her face was devoid of expression, frozen a perfect mask of stoic impassiveness. It reminded Usho of the slaves of the city, who were forcibly stripped of emotion and higher cognition after the removal of their soulgems. What made her even more frightening was that unlike Arat’s slaves, Shining Spark was clearly intelligent. She gazed down at the two of them dispassionately, like a craftsman disassembling a defective crossbow.

Somehow, Usho was expected to have sex with that. It was almost too much to bear.

“Your response time is lacking,” spoke the Alchemical. Usho blinked. While her voice was utterly dispassionate, her speech was still just like that of a perfectly normal woman rather than the harsh robotic trill of the city’s ministerial subroutines.

Realizing that Gasi just nudged him, Usho gave her a formal bow. “My lady. The state has given us the privilege of serving you to the best of our humble abilities.”

The Spark’s response was not what he expected. “Incorrect. The state has assigned you to monitor my behavior and to keep me under supervision.” She turned around and began to descend the staircase leading down from the building’s roof. After concerned looks with one another the two mortals followed after her.

“I will not impede your duties,” the Spark continued, as her feet echoed off the stairs. Looking down behind her, Usho could see that her feet beneath the robes were totally bare. “To impede your duties would be treason against the state.”

Her head wheeled back on her shoulders, turning a hundred and eighty degrees. Usho gave a sudden start, and would have fallen down the entire flight of stairs if Gasi didn’t catch him. Shining Spark didn’t evince even the least concern, and was able to navigate the stairs easily in spite of the fact that her gaze was now fixed behind rather than forward. 

“With that said, I have tasks for you both in mind on top of your regular duties.”

Before Usho could ask what she had meant by that, the Spark turned her head forward again and opened one of the doors leading out of the winding staircase. “Whatever purpose the state may have in assigning the both of you as my servants, it does nothing to change the fact that the state has assigned you both as my servants. As such, I expect you to comport yourselves properly as members of my household. You will maintain my home for the duration of my arrest, and serve my needs.”

She turned her head forward again, and Usho felt much more comfortable when she wasn’t looking at him. She continued, “This complex houses many of the city’s highest castes. The top floor and roof have been assigned to me, but anything else in this building is neither my responsibility nor my concern. Do nothing to disturb the other residents,” she finished before halting in front of a massive steel door. “You will find that my needs are very few. So long as you do not damage the property the state has assigned me and obey the orders I give you, there will be no difficulties.”

When she turned the handle and lead them inside, Usho was stunned at the sight of what awaited him. He had heard that the higher classes lived lives of decadence and leisure, but this was able to approach some of Usho’s most absurd fantasies. The esteemed Champion had an entire floor of this apartment complex dedicated to solely to her and her staff. For Usho, who lived his entire life in one communal barracks or another, the fact that the Champion had multiple rooms dedicated solely to her personal use was beyond the pale. 

As shocking as the room was, the Alchemical’s reaction was even more perplexing. Because the Shining Spark’s face typically frozen in a mask of transcendent stoicism, even the barest hint of emotion was incredibly obvious. Usho was able to see obvious distaste in her eyes, as she gazed at her domain with barely concealed contempt. It shocked Usho to realize that she was capable of some degree of feeling. “Acquaint yourselves with the residence,” the Champion ordered. “I have tasks that I must attend to.” With that she simply departed the room, sparing neither Usho nor Gasi a second glance as she went up the stairs back to the roof.

After exchanging a concerned glance with Gasi, the two of them simply decided to comply with the Champion’s orders. The furnishings were luxurious, with the Champion’s office dominated by an ornate desk made out of a dark brown material Usho never saw before. When he asked Gasi later, she only whispered to him that the material was called ‘wood’ and was harvested from specially cultivated plants in one of the city’s few terrariums. The bed in the Spark’s room was large and soft, and covered in the silk sheets Usho kept dreaming of when he pleasured his clients. While he didn’t relish the idea of trying to seduce something like the Orichalcum Golem, he had to admit that sharing a bed like that even with a creature like her was very appealing.

The servant’s quarters were somewhat more modest, but still an obvious step up compared to the Lumpen’s barracks. The two of them were given comfortable lodgings and a pair of smaller, single person beds. There was a screen cordoning off different parts of the room to give its occupants a measure of privacy, but after seeing the meaningful looks Gasi kept giving him as they explored the apartment, Usho doubted that such a measure was at all necessary. 

Deciding to enjoy their moment away from the Champion, Usho pulled her into a passionate kiss while his hands started to slide up her legs to beneath her dress. Rather than melt in his arms like he expected, she simply stiffened and pushed him back. “Focus!” she chastised. She rolled her eyes and whispered furiously in his ear; giving Usho time to realize the real reason for the looks she kept giving him.

“Haven’t you noticed, Usho? This place is immaculate.” Frowning, he couldn’t help but realize what that implied. There was absolutely no sign that the Spark had ever stepped foot in her own apartment. Gasi nodded when she saw that he was following her train of thought. She continued, “It is likely Shining Spark of Devotion has never made use of her official residence until the day of her house arrest. And my guess is that she still refuses to make use of it.”

Remembering the Champion’s seeming hatred of the apartment when they first entered, Usho couldn’t help but acknowledge her logic. “So where does she sleep? They, ah, do sleep, right?” The most Usho ever saw of the Machine God’s champions were images on posters.

Gasi raised an eyebrow at the odd question before nodding her head in confirmation. “To a lesser extent than us, but yes. They ingest nutrients and have need of rest. Which, of course, makes me wonder.”

“You don’t think she’s violating the terms of her house arrest?” Usho said hopefully. Maybe then this whole affair would be the Regulators’ problem.

“That is extremely unlikely. But do you remember what she said? She had control of the roof of the building as well.” Gasi thought to herself for a moment, before nodding her head. “Usho, get to the roof and inquire after her.”

“Must I?” he said reluctantly.

“Usho, for the Maker’s sake, if I could I’d shove your tongue right between her legs! Yes. You must. It is essential that you be the one to form a bond with her, not I. Get her to trust you.” As she shoved him up towards the staircase Usho felt uncomfortably like a glass-whore all over again. When they finally reached the doorway, Gasi saw that Usho’s hands were shaking as he reached for the door. Lightly, she held his arm to steady him.

“Shhh,” she breathed soothingly. “I know you can do this. We just need to build your confidence.” Usho eyed her in wonderment as she slowly sank to her knees. He didn’t resist as she undid the buttons of his trousers, and gasped appreciatively as she kissed his still soft member. It was hard for Usho to maintain his balance, and he had to prop himself up against the door as Gasi mercilessly advanced upon him. He felt her arms clasp the back his thighs tightly as she sucked him. Her efforts were unskilled but she made up for it with enthusiasm, forcing herself to take in more and more his length. He shuddered as her teeth lightly scored his shaft, beginning to match his motions with hers as he pushed a bit more of himself inside her mouth.

That seemed a bit too much for the still inexperienced woman. Gasi’s lips retreated from his shaft, and she quickly pulled Usho’s trouser’s back up around his hips while taking care not to let his aching member get caught in a zipper. Usho grimaced, looking at the woman in confusion. She only smiled, shaking her finger at him as though he was a misbehaving child as she stood up. Usho watched silently as she stood against a wall, and slowly lifted up the hem of her toga with a wicked smirk. She shamelessly exposed her naked sex to him, wet and open with desire. He couldn’t help but throw himself towards her, only for Gasi to push him back away from her with a free hand. Groaning in frustration, Usho had only enough self-control to let Gasi take the lead.

Her face blushing brightly, she began to stammer awkwardly through her speech, her lust overcoming years of training in poise and elocution. “See what you do to me? You didn’t even need to touch me.” She grasped his hand delicately, bringing it towards her sex. Usho couldn’t help but think that they’d both by happier if they employed a different part of his anatomy, but he was still able to use his fingers to excellent effect.

“I know she won’t appreciate you, not like the way I do,” she said, in between gasps and quivers as he touched her. “You’re probably wasted on her. So if you can see this through to the end for me,” she said as she whispered in his ear, her face flushed with embarrassment and desire, “you can have me. You can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want.”

Given their difference in class such a declaration could never be made lightly, and Usho wouldn’t be surprised if she reneged on that offer later. But for now, he was too turned on to end the moment, locking his lips with hers while he worked her over with his hands, causing her to shudder in release. Usho was still hard, but it was clear that her goal was to inflame his passion rather than relieve it. Gasi pecked him chastely on the cheek before she departed. “I know you can do this. Give her the best fuck she’s ever had in her entire life.”

Taking a deep breath, his now steady hands pushed the door open slightly, allowing him to peer furtively through a crack. When he saw the Spark up on the roof, and Usho couldn’t help but be enchanted. The Spark had removed her robes, leaving her clad only in a tight bodysuit that exposed more of her brilliant golden skin as she moved gracefully through a series of katas. Her now exposed arms and shoulders conveyed beauty more than power: while her sculpted musculature was clearly defined and cut, they leaned towards lissome grace and delicacy. Though given the speed with which she moved and the footprints her feet left in the brickwork as she landed, her appearance was extremely deceptive. 

After a few moments of watching her slip smoothly in and out of various katas, she began to speak. “There is no need to spy, Lumpen. I could hear you breathing for some time now.”

His heart racing, Usho opened the door wide and stepped out. He couldn’t keep a combination of fear and awe out of his expression, looking much like when the Lectors caught him hiding a pet rat during his childhood in the crèches. He struggled to regain control of his emotions as he bowed with a fist clapped in a palm. “Great Champion, my name is Usho.” Usho thought that an introduction seemed like an excellent place to begin a budding relationship.

He thought wrong. The Spark didn’t even dignify him with her contempt, instead stating flatly “Your name is not important to me, Lumpen.” Usho still only smiled and bowed, even while some of his anger began to war feebly with his feelings of fear and awe. Most Autochthonians regarded the Lumpen with indifference at best and hatred at worst, and in this case Usho was grudgingly glad that the Spark didn’t have the capacity to hate him at the moment.

“Lumpen,” Usho continued smoothly, “is also an accurate designation to use.” Usho strained his mind for the best approach, recalling a Lumpen client of his who wanted to live out fantasies of being one of the upper classes with him. Kowtowing, he brought his head to the floor in the way that his old client liked and gave the Alchemical the same speech he would give her. “My lady, this humble one begs for the opportunity to serve you!”

Usho suspected that if any other woman in Arat saw him, she would have thrown her head back and roared in laughter. Instead as he looked up he saw the barest vestige of approval rising in her otherwise dead eyes. “So. The Lumpen has work ethic. Good.” If it were any other woman in Arat who said that, Usho wouldn’t have been able to keep himself from snorting in bemusement.

She simply waved him away. “I do not require services at this time. Find some task to occupy you. How you choose to employ your labor is not my concern.”

Usho worked quickly to find an excuse. “Esteemed Champion, I fear that there are currently no tasks with which to occupy myself with. Your home remains in a suitable state and I lack direction.”

In the span of a heartbeat the Champion’s brow creased in irritation, before resuming that same flat expression. “Then remain idle until I devise some suitable task.” Usho’s nails dug into his palm. He was also starting to become annoyed. Most women could have easily imagined suitable tasks for a handsome young man with absolutely nothing to do.

He recalled an angry sermon he received from one of the Arat’s Lectors when he was plying his trade, before Ishara dragged her away. He was certain that it could get through to the ever so pious Shining Bodhisattva. Taking the tone of a confused and helpless member of the Populat, he said in a panic, “My lady, forgive me. Without honest labor to occupy my time, I fear that I shall fall into laziness and heresy. Only productivity can tame the vices that led to my demotion.”

Surprisingly, the Champion squatted down in front of him, giving him a very good view of her metallic body. The way her chest suddenly begin to rise and fall as she spoke, Usho realized that she still needed to breathe if she wanted to speak. As she grasped him by the chin he realized that while her hands were colder and harder than that of a mortal, her skin was still too soft to be composed merely of metal. “Lumpen,” she said flatly, “you are laying it on far too thick.”

It was then Usho realized that emotionless did not mean stupid, and that she was perfectly capable of understanding what went on through his head. Just because she was unconcerned by his feelings did not mean that she did not comprehend him. Shivering slightly, he said, “Nevertheless. My function is to serve you, and that function is not being fulfilled.”

“And what is the Lumpen hoping to gain?” she said as she cocked her head to one side, as though examining him under a dissection table. “If you were the sort of person to desire labor for its own sake you would never have been demoted in caste. I can see how the blood rushes to your groin when you look at me, Lumpen. You,” she said, somehow inserting a greater degree of coldness in her voice, “are not the first of my servants to think that impressing me would make me spread my legs for them.”

Ashamed, Usho brought his head to the floor. He was very naïve in how he approached the Spark. This creature wasn’t just stronger or faster, she was smarter than he could ever hope to be. It would take a miracle for a being that powerful to take any interest in him, Usho concluded. He ruminated on how he’d explain his failure to both Gasi and the head of the Luminors, before he heard clothing rustle above him.

The Shining Spark of Devotion inhaled another breath, and it sounded almost like a sigh when she spoke again. “Would fulfilling your desires allow me to be in peace?” Usho was incredulous as he heard the sound of a zipper being unfastened, and looked up in disbelief to see the Spark slip smoothly out of her clothes.

Any concerns Usho had about her anatomy were quickly addressed as the Spark stripped herself down. He couldn’t help but think that the engineers who first built the Spark’s body were a fairly perverted bunch. Her breasts were generous, but not to the point where they impeded the movements of her arms or altered her center of balance, and Usho couldn’t imagine any practical task that required that perfect a rear end. Her figure was in an impossible hourglass shape that would require mortal women to gasp for air in a corset to replicate. His eyes fell down her smooth and hairless body to a small, tight slit between long and powerful legs. She sat gracefully on the railing at the edge of the roof, her balance perfect as she spread her legs, with that terrifying drop right behind her.

Usho couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on through the Alchemical’s inscrutable mind. “My lady? Are you certain?” he said hesitantly. In spite of her display there was nothing in the Spark’s eyes. She evinced no lust, no curiosity, nor even contempt for him. Try as he might, as he scoured her perfect body he could not find even a trace of feeling.

The Spark simply inclined her brow, still in command of the situation and not at all ashamed at exposing herself to a mere Lumpen. “I can hardly beat you for your presumptions when the state has assigned you and your companion to be my observers.” Usho decided it would be prudent to not correct her mistaken assumption as to why the state assigned both Gasi and him to her household.

“I’m well versed in mortal physiology, and copulating with you a single time will be more efficient than enduring your clumsy attempts at seduction. I will sate your curiosity, and from then on you will remain focused on your tasks. Is this an acceptable arrangement?” Usho ground his teeth. The Spark was entirely indifferent to the fact she was going to let someone she barely knew use her body for the sake of convenience. While his anger was a bit hypocritical considering his own trade, he had wished that the Spark had a bit more class than that. 

Still, he nodded his head in acceptance, slipping out of his clothes as he moved towards her. It was quite possible that the two of them might be seen, but the Spark seemed as apathetic to that possibility as she was to anything else and Usho picked the wrong trade to retain a sense of modesty. He traced a line up from her flanks to beneath a breast, curious as to how her body managed to be so soft in spite of her cold Orichalcum skin. But while her skin appealed to him, her reaction was disturbing. She evinced no response to his touch, simply sitting stock still against the railing and staring at him with empty eyes. It took Usho much longer for his manhood to harden, and he found that avoiding eye contact with her helped matters considerably.

Things began to go wrong almost immediately. No matter how hard he tried the Alchemical simply would not respond to his caresses. In desperation he attempted some maneuvers his more outlandish clients preferred. Mustering his courage, he reached down beneath the railing to cup the Spark’s seated bottom, before spreading the two halves and bringing a thumb inside her rear entrance. 

He expected some sort of reaction from her. Surprise. Shock. Anger.  Any reaction at this point would have been welcome. Instead, the Spark remained motionless, and began to speak in that same monotone. “Usho, neither your fingers nor your tongue are particularly erogenous locations. Why are you hesitating?”

“I-I-“ Usho stuttered before taking a deep breath and withdrawing his hands from her behind. “Honored Champion, do my touches displease you?” he said with quiet desperation. With how rough Usho was beginning getting with her body, he wouldn’t have minded much if she gave her assent. At least then he would know that she was capable of feeling something.

“They do not displease me. Nor do they please me.” It was the exact response that Usho was afraid of. “Arousing me is not a concern. My body can produce enough lubrication on its own. What displeases me, Lumpen, is your lack of efficiency. Sate yourself and then be on your way.”

In spite of being a mere prostitute whoring himself out for beads of glass, Usho still showed much more compassion and consideration to his own customers. Furious, Usho plunged inside her, trying everything he could to make her feel. At the end of his rope, he simply fucked her. He felt like he was making love to a statue. He felt like a plug hooked up to a socket. He felt more withdrawn than he did with even the worst of his clients. And then Usho made the mistake of looking into the cold, empty sockets of the machine-woman he was humping.

“Ah,” the Spark said simply. “It seems the matter has resolved itself.”

Frustration and shame welled up inside Usho as he felt his member go flaccid. Even after the lengthy, brutal shifts as a Lumpen he had no problem getting it up for an interested coworker. Somehow, this managed to be even more degrading for him than all his years of mindless labor for the state.

The Spark moved past the incredulous Usho, gathering up her clothes in her hand as though nothing of any consequence occurred. As he gazed towards her, and saw her continue to maintain her thoroughly unnatural serenity, Usho realized that he hated her. It was at this point that the small serpent of rage that feebly warred with his awe and terror of the Alchemical became a great dragon of smoke and ash.

Usho had to bear many indignities after his demotion in Caste. He repaid every insult given to him with a smile and a nod. He groaned out his gratitude after the overseers whipped him. Even after meeting Ishara he had to deal with the jealousy of other Lumpen and the casual contempt the rest of civilization heaped towards his caste. He could have lived his entire life happily enduring all of that, but it became unbearable when everything he resented became manifested in that beautiful machine. The Shining Spark of Devotion encapsulated everything Usho hated about the state: cold, indifferent, and very casual in its cruelties. With a single sentence Usho let out years of repressed bile and bitterness out now, too angry to be afraid of dying.

“I loathe you,” he said calmly. 

“I beg your pardon?” The question was rhetorical. The Spark, of course, was not angry. Nevertheless his insubordination needed to be addressed, and then punished. Seeing her stand quietly with her clothes in hand Usho understood that she would not be cruel, merely efficient. And that caused him to hate her all the more.

“I despise you!” Usho said more emphatically, while the Spark was no doubt considering an appropriate form of chastisement. “You are everything wrong with the world made manifest. Is there even a soul inside your gem? All that beauty you have is wasted on a person like you. You’re nothing but a statue put on display. You’re a golem made of orichalcum!”

Suddenly she froze, and while before Usho was able to see bare specters of emotion in her face, now her serene mask was irrevocably shattered. She rushed towards him with terrifying speed and seized him by the neck, suspending him naked over the railing. For once the drop didn’t concern him: Usho was too busy matching the Alchemical’s furious stare to bother to look down.

“Be silent!” she shouted, her voice now burning with fury.

“You’re the Orichalcum Golem!” Usho barked back. 

“I will drop you, Lumpen!” Usho’s lips curled into a slightly mad grin. In her rage, all the unnaturalness of the Shining Spark had disappeared. She stood naked, clutching his throat, teeth bared in fury. The electric orbs that substituted for her eyes now sparked furiously, looking like a combination between a lightning storm and a torrent of tears. She was now a beautiful, vengeful goddess, about to tear Usho’s heart right out of his chest. Thinking to himself quietly, he supposed that being murdered by the most beautiful woman in all of Autochthonia was quite an accomplishment.

But that would have to wait for at least a little while longer. “My name isn’t ‘Lumpen.’ My name is Usho. And no,” Usho said, waggling his finger with far more arrogance than the situation warranted, “I don’t think you will drop me.”

“Do NOT test me!” If pushed, she would do the unthinkable. It was a stark, wonderful contrast from the unfeeling creature that was apathetically spread her legs for him before.

“O Shining Bodhisattva of Arat, Golden Archon, Blessed of Noi, you have not considered all the possibilities,” said Usho sarcastically as he rattled off all the Spark’s titles. “First, the state has assigned me to monitor your compliance with their edicts. Second, we were very intimate just prior to this moment. Please take a moment to think this through. You just murdered an agent of the state immediately after having sex with him. That is most certainly going to destroy any confidence the council might still have in you!” 

She silently considered the possibilities, her mind still rational enough to rethink her rash decision. She looked down pensively in thought, only for her eyes to wander to a now very stiff part of Usho’s anatomy. “This actually arouses you?” she said, somewhere between a mix of incredulousness and contempt. “Perhaps I ought to drop you anyways,” she sneered. Even when contemplating his death, she was very beautiful.

Instead she pulled him back on the roof, dropping him roughly onto the solid stone of the tower. Usho grunted in pain as his bare back scraped against the rough stone. The golden goddess still stood above him, a thunderstorm in her eyes. She stomped hard at the floor next to his head, with enough force to crush a man’s skull as the pavement cracked beneath her.

“It is clear that I am not in a state to administer corporal punishment without killing you. It is clear that killing you would be construed as treason against the state.” She pressed a delicate golden foot against his neck, carefully calculating just the right amount of force to cut off his supply of breath without crushing his larynx. “But it is also clear that I cannot tolerate leaving insubordination unpunished.” Usho realized that even though she didn’t need to breathe, the Alchemical’s chest was heaving with unfulfilled rage. Somehow, the Spark needed an outlet for the emotion that was overwhelming her.

Usho was nothing if not an experienced outlet. Mustering all of his energy, and taking advantage of the fact that the Shining Spark was using only a small fraction of her full power, he was able to force her foot away from his throat. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist her for long, he decided to resort to something unconventional. 

The Alchemical was dumbfounded as Usho’s fingers brushed the sole of her foot, and Usho’s heart soared as she let out a small, apprehensive ‘ah,’ her heel arching upwards in response. Somehow, the sudden release of emotion gave the Shining Spark of Devotion a much greater sensitivity to his touch. When the Spark realized that her loss of composure had made her ticklish, she looked ready to try to murder him again.

Her sudden surprise let Usho flee hastily from her grasp. He knelt down before the Shining Spark, kissing her legs submissively. “I humbly accept any form of discipline the Blessed of Noi chooses to give me,” he growled, using the same tone of voice that drove so many of his clients wild.

Looking up at her, Usho saw that the Shining Spark’s face turned into a dangerous grin that was very similar to the defiant smile he gave her when she was dangling him over the edge of the roof. “You laid it on too thick again,” she said cruelly. Suddenly his vision went white as he screamed in pain, clutching his groin in agony. Again, she carefully modulated the force of her blow to cause no lasting harm. Usho supposed, as he screamed, that he should be grateful that she didn’t render him impotent.

She forcefully pushed him on his back and straddled his chest. Her body felt smooth and supple as she touched him, and Usho realized that much of her metal skin was actually hardened clay painted to meld seamlessly with the rest of her body. Even so, her weight was still significant enough for Usho to worry about bruises. 

Usho could see that she was very wet, though it wasn’t clear whether this was born from genuine lust or the simply the result of her deliberately secreting lubrication. The material that composed her body meant that her nipples were always stiff, so it was difficult to gauge her feelings with those as well. But when Usho looked into her eyes and saw an expression that belonged more on the wild beasts trapped in the slaughterhouse pens than a reserved and disciplined Champion, he had no trouble regaining his arousal in spite of the pain from her earlier kick.

“You sicken me, Lumpen. No, you sicken me Usho,” she said, enunciating his name carefully. The Spark plunged a pair of fingers inside herself, moaning shamelessly in arousal as she rubbed her perfectly sculpted clit. Usho was shocked by her sudden change in personality, but was hardly displeased. “You’ve made me so filthy,” she spat, grimacing in distaste and shame as she touched herself. “This is nothing more than the result of redundant hormones and the memories of lives long gone. I understand that these emotions are irrational.” The Spark rolled a wet tongue across her shining lips before ceasing her masturbation. She sat high atop him, fully exposed and quivering in a mixture of arousal and fury.

“Yet these feelings have still reduced me to a perverted bitch,” and she spat out pure venom at the word ‘bitch.’ “Does it arouse you, knowing that you brought me down to your level? Ah,” she breathed as her arm reached back behind her with alarming flexibility, to painfully grip his member, “I see that it does.”

She leaned forward into his face while her arm extended to an impossible degree to crudely jerk him off behind her.  “Golem. Do I look like a golem to you now?”

It was difficult for him to muster his response, given that he had to push past his unease at the demented Alchemical and the pleasure she nevertheless gave him. “You look more like a goddess.” A vengeful, murderous goddess, but Usho knew better than to employ imprudent adjectives at a time like this.

She smiled like a serpent swallowing a rat. “The Orichalcum Goddess. That’s a much more respectful title.” She brought her weight forward; pressing her mound against his mouth while her arm extended back even further, continuing to jerk him off. “Pray to your goddess,” she commanded. “Sate these feelings you put inside me, and I’ll let you live.”

As Usho’s tongue slipped inside of her, he could only marvel at how sensitive the Alchemical’s body had suddenly become. She practically writhed atop him, her body quivering with every lick and Usho had to hold on tightly to her thighs to keep her still. The way she moaned, both loud and lewd, couldn’t have sounded any more beautiful to Usho than if she were singing. She was also a feast for his tongue as well as his ears. Her lubrication was sweet and delicious, tasting entirely unlike anything he swallowed from between a woman’s legs. He felt less and less of her hand around his rod, her movements becoming more inconsistent and clumsy until she finally gave up and let her arm retract to her side. Usho was too busy marveling at her voice, her taste, and the way she felt in his arms, to notice her halting the crude handjob.

---

The Shining Spark of Devotion ground herself against his tongue while she rubbed herself down with her hands. She knew the mechanisms of mortal copulation, and all of the biology involved, but she never knew that she herself could also have experienced such sensations. In spite of the fact that she didn’t need to breath, the Alchemical was now gasping wildly for air. Her artificial body, while swift and powerful, nevertheless experienced the same sensations as the humans she was built to resemble. Her mind, while hosting a grand intellect, still carried a human soul that still possessed instinct and desire. In her pursuit of perfection she had done everything she could to remove that aspect of herself. And yet she was now bucking against the soiled tongue of a Lumpen, loving every second of it.

But as much as she hated Usho for doing this to her, she realized that she despised herself even more. She felt more human than ever, a myriad of emotions rushing through her copper nerves. She was even angrier than the time when the glass-merchant thought that bribing her mere glots could stay her wrath. She was even more ashamed than the time when her task force was routed after a Yugashi ambush. She was even more intrigued than the time when she first discovered lost artifacts from humanity’s exodus from Creation deep in bowels of Arat. However, it took her some time, as Usho’s maddening tongue kept on destroying her concentration, for her to realize that there was now a feeling inside of her that was entirely novel.

“Stop,” she whispered softly, begging him. “Stop, I beg of you. I can’t bear anymore of this.” As his tongue finally halted, the Spark slipped effortlessly out of his tight grasp. She still ached with need, and try as she might she could not master her own body again to dull the fire inside her. Her unsteady legs couldn’t support her weight, as she fell upon her knees. Droplets of nectar still dripped from her slit, and small sparks of electricity flew out of her eyes. She gazed down at her reflection in her shining hands, and realized that she was sobbing for the first time in her life. She could not comprehend why.

The Lumpen, Usho, knelt down beside her. The Spark could discern nearly every aspect of his body, seeing at a glance how his pulse rate slowed as his frenzied lust began to cool, how his large member begin to soften again, and how his nervous system began to end his body’s flight or fight response. But the look in his eyes was something she could not quantify so precisely. His eyes seemed pitying, and almost tender.

“I am sorry.” The Spark could tell he was sincere. The only other time the man was ever that honest was when he petulantly declared his hatred for her. He continued, “I should not have called you a golem. I should not have used my relationship with a state as a shield. I,” he brought his head in the dirt, kowtowing to her for the third time today, “should not have put you in a position that would cause you such distress.”

It was undignified for her to be pitied by one so low. She had no tears to dry, but the sparks in her eyes ceased flying. “What, precisely, is there to apologize for? Usho.” She made absolutely sure she would not forget the Lumpen’s name. “I engaged in sexual congress with you, violently assaulted you, and then commanded you to service me. Aside from your impudence, you are surprisingly compliant for a Lumpen.” Even though her body still burned to be touched, the Spark had regained enough control of her artificial vocal cords to bring back her calm and measured tones.

“This was your first time making love.” That Lumpen’s statement was a not a question, merely a stated fact. The Spark scowled, and suddenly the calm and measured tones disappeared again. This Lumpen had a way of making her lose control of her body.

“Don’t be absurd. I have copulated with others before.” The Spark saw Usho briefly roll his eyes. It was only for a split second, and the Spark knew that the Lumpen did not realize he had such a habit.

Sighing, Usho shook his head. “You indulged the sexual curiosity of others, so that they could focus on their work. And my guess is, given our first attempt at ‘copulation’,” and Usho spat out that last word with distaste,  “that they didn’t bother to make a second attempt.”

The Spark only shrugged. “The method was efficient. It cost about twenty minutes, at most, compared to weeks of attempted courtship and flattery.”

“That still wasn’t making love,” Usho said, nodding his head as though he was some sort of Cleric realizing a profound religious insight. The Spark made a mental note to review the training process for the city’s Lumpen. There was entirely too much unwarranted pride there.

“Making ‘love.’ Love is merely a physiological reaction. An imbalance of hormones designed to stimulate the desire to procreate. Try as they might, Usho, an artificial womb is quite beyond our artifice. Thus in one such as I, ‘love’ is an entirely vestigial instinct.” She was quite certain Usho would accept her logic.

Instead, she was forced to shiver and gasp as the Lumpen dared to bring a finger inside her sex. In spite of her pretentions towards calm, her feelings of wanton desire had not faded, as she felt herself tighten around his digit. She could have throttled him, if she had truly wanted to, but instead she found herself sucking on the finger that was just inside her. Taste was a sensation she never indulged in, her body’s respiration of essence providing her more than enough energy for her needs. So when she tasted just how sweet her ardor was on Usho’s finger, she wondered faintly why she simply didn’t indulge in that taste more often when she could have had something so sweet leak out of her lower lips at any time.

She remained on her knees, both curious and confused, before Usho brought his tongue inside her mouth in a soft and affectionate kiss. It was less like a duel of tongues and more like a dance, as the Spark tasted more of herself on his tongue. Her hands moved towards his hips, cupping his shaft tightly, while his fingers penetrated her again. They explored one another thoroughly, until Usho broke the kiss. “I think,” Usho said while smiling softly towards her, “that a gentle approach will help relieve the strain you are experiencing.”

The Spark did not understand why she was smiling back. He stood up, and lifted her up by her hands. “Let us try… ‘copulation’… again.” Usho seemed to have an averse reaction to that word. “Let’s resume our earlier positions.”

Under normal circumstances she would have never deferred to a Lumpen, but in this case it was best to respect an expert’s assessment of the situation. She reassumed the position she had when they first began, seating herself on the railing with perfect balance, the precarious drop right behind her. Of course, her poise and balance was more than sufficient to prevent a risk of a fall, but now her stance was rife with subtle imperfections. As she spread her legs for him again she found herself unable to maintain contact with his eyes, and in her apprehension fixed her gaze to his chest instead. She couldn’t help but constantly readjust her position, as her tense anxiety causing her to tremble ever so slightly out of alignment.

The imperfections only seemed to entice him more. He swept towards her, as desperate for his long awaited release as she was. She gripped the railing tightly, hard enough to leave her palm-prints embedded in the metal, as they finally joined again. Her reactions were random and haphazard; her mind losing control of her body again as she spontaneously locked her tongue with his. He felt him squeeze her breasts as tightly as he could, though even his strongest effort could only bring her more pleasure rather than pain. Somehow her reactions only enticed him further, and encouraged him to go to even wilder effort.

Her eyes widened in shock as she felt a pair of his fingers enter her rump. She had always found her rear port to be entirely useless: she never indulged in food like some of her fellow Champions, and thus never needed to excrete. By some means, Usho found a use for that seemingly useless piece of her anatomy as he brought another finger inside that entrance. That sensation, being fucked in front and toyed with from behind, finally caused her to overload.

For the first time in her existence she lost control of the considerable energy contained within her. She felt a surge of electricity course through her, a wild riot of power that set every nerve in her body alight with pleasure. The thin silver wires that substituted for her hair stood on end, before traveling down her spine to her contracting vaginal walls. The energy flowed through her into Usho, as his member begin to pulse inside her, spilling his seed in powerful spurts.

And yet the flow of energy still continued, their mutual orgasms continuing unceasingly. The two of them were mad with pleasure, with Usho’s seed pumping insider her to fill her completely. Lost in the ecstasy of their unceasing release, the Spark fell back as Usho pressed forward, causing them both to topple over the railing as they came.

It was the Spark’s reflexes that saved the both of them, as her legs locked around the railing and caught Usho swiftly by the wrist. While the Spark was merely sated, the climax was too much for the mortal, who simply hung limply in her grasp. Slowly she pulled him up, and held him gently against her as he regained some of his energy.

Now that the Spark was in control of herself she was finally able to assess the situation with rational dispassion once more. She gathered up her clothes, as well as his, as she roughly dragged him inside to her apartment. The Spark saw the Plutarch (her name was Gasi, she recalled) lounging comfortably at the couch. Gasi gasped in some concern as she saw Usho, and the Shining Spark of Devotion felt it was prudent to have the Plutarch hold the exhausted Lumpen steadily.

“Let me be clear,” the Spark said to the bleary eyed Usho. “We will not be indulging in that again. It is clear that you must find a way to occupy yourself, Lumpen. Therefore,” suddenly the Alchemical threw a small urn against the floor, breaking it to pieces. She took out all of her remaining frustrations on the luxurious prison the state had assigned her, smashing the glass and breaking the chairs over her knee, before finally leaving it in a shambles. Gasi quavered in fear, and Usho merely looked on impassively, as the Spark purged away the last of her emotions, her mind finally clear. What was once the height of luxury was reduced to shambles that would have suited a slum. With great dignity, the Spark gathered up her clothes and dressed herself again.

“Now clean this up. If you have need of more tasks to occupy yourself, I am certain that I can devise something appropriate for you.” She did not need to be angry to give her statement the subtle undertones of a threat. After she slipped on her robes, once again possessing the dignity appropriate to a symbol of the state, her extremely keen sense of hearing picked up Usho whispering very softly to Gasi. He chuckled in between coughs, and said, “I think I like that one.”

The Spark had no idea why she was smiling when she heard that. When she meditated at a shrine of the Great Maker later in the shift, she found it very difficult to center herself again. Her mind would not stop wandering back to recollections of the impudent mortal’s touch.

---

In retrospect, what just happened would have most likely have been considered heretical by the city’s Preceptors. There would be angry words scribbled somewhere in the margins of the Tome of the Great Maker, expressly forbidding violent sexual relationships between a member of the Lumpen and one of the city’s premiere Champions. As post coital bliss wore away, Usho was left only with the aches and bruises of his furious lovemaking with the Spark. He slumped into a couch, one of the few pieces of furniture the Spark did not destroy, and the combination of pain and his now desolate surroundings did a great deal to sour his mood. 

Gasi pressed him for all the details she possible could after he dressed himself. The Alchemical’s reactions and emotional state were of particular import, though she tended to dwell a bit too long on his account of the sex. Heaving a deep sigh, he leaned back in the couch. “She could have killed me!”

“She could have, yes.” Gasi’s statement was matter of fact, and her voice was firm and level. Apprehensive, Usho raised an eyebrow to the Plutarch. “You don’t find this particularly alarming?”

Gasi looked stricken for a moment, before shaking her head. Her voice was softer, and more gentle. “I would have been angry if you died. I would have done everything in my power to make sure the Spark was decommissioned if it came to that point.” The subtle emphasis she placed on ‘decommission’ sent a shiver down Usho’s spine. He realized he was talking to Gasi the Plutarch now, not Gasi the woman.

“But Usho,” she continued smoothly, “this is vital work. And yes, dangerous too. Workplace fatalities are a daily occurrence in Arat. I think that only you can salvage what remains of the Champion’s heart. Think of it this way: you are a talented technician trying to prevent the meltdown of a vital asset.”

“And if that technician perishes in the ensuing meltdown…” Usho said quietly, before Gasi set her jaw firmly and nodded towards him. She said, with absolute confidence, “Then the technician dies a hero.”

Usho didn’t let any doubt pass across his face. The woman was alien to him now and full of patriotic fire, rather than the kind of fire he was more used to dealing with in women. She was prepared to stake her life on this, if that was what it took. She took it for granted that he would feel the same, but if he really held such loyalty to the state he would not have been reduced to a Lumpen.

Mostly he just wanted to get out of this alive. So he gave the fiercest and most daring grin he could towards Gasi, who immediately leapt from her chair to hug him. He hugged her back, tightly. She may have been the one who involved him in this mad scheme, but as of this moment she was also the only friend he had in all of Autochthonia.

She kissed his neck, but didn’t press further, knowing that he could barely muster the energy to move after his time with the Spark. “You’ll have to fuck her again, of course,” she whispered slyly in his ear. Usho closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if the next time would end with broken bones, as she continued, “The Spark is a creature of habit. If you keep the fire inside of her lit, she’ll be hooked on you.”

Usho nodded. Somehow, he needed to bed her again, though he’d prefer not to inspire anything approaching homicidal rage in her beforehand. He though for a moment, and asked, “What are her habits?”

“Ah, hold on,” Gasi said as she squirmed out of his arms and went to a bag she carried with her. Pulling out some scrolls, she handed them to Usho. The writing was decidedly technical, and while he could pronounce the words he had no idea what they meant when taken as a whole.

“The Spark holds to a very steady routine, Usho. She is a strict ascetic, and spends most of her time in training, followed by meditation and prayer for a full shift. Second shift is spent working on behalf of the Theomacracy. I’m told she writes very inspired poetry. Third shift consisted of her… extracurricular activities within the Glass Market. Fourth shift was spent out in the outskirts of the city, where she’d search for any potential threats and, ah, resolve them. I’m told that the fifth shift was spent either in rest or in communion with Arat himself.”

Usho scratched his head. It often slipped most of the Populat’s mind, including his own, but the city of Arat was also a living being. Arat the Ebon Dynamo, once the Alchemical named Arms and Armor Triumphant, was a reclusive figure that preferred not to suffer the presence of any save emissaries of the Tripartite Council. His history prior to his ascension put even the Shining Spark of Devotion to shame. His presence was unseen and unnoticed, but it was said that the ministerial subroutines that served him spied invisibly on the Populat.

Usho shook his head. The being at the heart of the Patropolis preferred to keep its presence hidden, and was not a particularly relevant aspect to his daily life.  Arat’s storied history was even more legendary than that of the Shining Spark’s, and if he had any of that Alchemical’s issues he wanted nothing to do with the soul of his home city. He returned instead to the Spark, who was far more likely to kill him than Arat. “I’ve noticed that four of her five usual activities are no longer possible for the duration of her house arrest.”

“Yes.” Gasi looked to the side, and leafing absently through the scrolls, said, “It may be beyond my station, but I think that she is chafing badly under her confinement.”

Given the amount of loathing she heaped on her apartment, and the still broken remnants of the furniture littering the floor, Usho agreed heartily. “You’re think that she’s bored?”

Gasi nodded her head. “I think so, yes. Could you imagine having that much time, and nothing to do with it?”

Usho merely pursed his lips. He didn’t just imagine such a thing, he practically fantasized about it. But for a being that defined its existence through faithful service, it must have been maddening for her to have absolutely nothing to do.

“Ah,” Gasi breathed. Usho couldn’t help but remember her giving very similar ‘ahs’ whenever the two of them made love in the past. “I think I’ve figured it out. Usho, you need to find a way to relieve her boredom.”

Frowning, Usho mumbled peevishly, “I’m afraid I’m only experienced in one specific form of entertainment.”

Gasi however, was undeterred “Try. She’s not a golem. You proved that just a moment ago. There must be something that interests her.”

Usho thought back to his fleeting moments with the Spark. In spite of the rather intimate physical contact with the Alchemical moments ago, he still felt she was a cipher. “There are, at this point, only three things I know about her for certain. The first is that she is a single-minded patriot. The second is that beneath that cold exterior lies a great deal of personal issues and a pronounced sadistic streak. And the third,” he said, as he recalled her graceful movements when he first spied on her, “is that she is an exceedingly talented martial artist.”

Gasi gave a strained smile and spoke with enthusiasm Usho could tell was false, “You know, the relationship between master and student can also be very intimate. Not to mention that physical conditioning and self defense skills can both be excellent assets for-”

Usho cut her off with a tired look of frustration. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, please go over those scrolls and find me some fetishes I can actually work with. I’m going to rest before I talk with my future sifu in the next shift.” Usho fell to the side on the couch, closing his eyes and letting physical exhaustion and mental fatigue overwhelm him. After he shut his eyes, Gasi placed a blanket upon him, and stroked his brow affectionately before shutting off the apartment’s lights.

 His dreams were troubled.

---

It was clear to the Spark, as she sat in the lotus position before an icon of the Machine God, that she was undergoing some sort of malfunction. Her prior indiscretions had unraveled her near focus. Before this night, she never had any difficulty hearing the subtle thrum of the sleeping Machine God that suffused his world-body. Yet now, even after hours of meditation, her mind would constantly wander to thoughts of Usho instead. That the state was willing to assign someone as low and unskilled as a Lumpen to her household was insulting. He was uneducated and unskilled, fit only for the most brutish of labors. With her superior strength and stamina, the Spark had absolutely no use for the man’s strong muscles, or his firm body, or his handsome face, or his large and thick member-

She opened her eyes sighed in frustration, an all too human reflex that her soul stubbornly failed to shed. Even though her body still yearned for intimacy, he Spark was resolved not to bear the unwholesome touch of a Lumpen again. Instead, as a faithful representative of the Theomcracy, she sought divine guidance to purge herself of unwanted desires. 

As she whispered in prayer, she could not help but turn her head, and gaze with dissatisfaction at the crumbling temple she prayed in. Its dilapidated state granted her the privacy she so needed, but it still pained her to see a house of the Great Maker so badly neglected. Arat had many positive qualities, but his vices would be the ruin of all of Claslat. He despised obsolescence and was too quick in ruling that which was still functional as outmoded. This temple would simply be left to crumble if Arat deemed it useless.

Her eyes turned to the now faded tapestries of the Eight Divine Ministers. Autochthon was an expansive being, and a single soul could not contain the fullness of his being. Instead, the Great Maker possessed eight souls, each representing a different aspect of his divine self. There was Debok Moom, armed and always ready for battle. Hideous Domadamod, surviving at any price. Handsome Kadmek, his expression pensive and locked in contemplation. Pragmatic Kek’tungshaa, fashioning a man and a woman out of clay. Terrifying Ku, streaming smoke and fire from behind his metal teeth. Stern Mog, holding the tome of the Great Maker aloft. Serene Runel, hands forming the Sutra of Precision. At last, her gaze stopped at Noi, the supposed patron of the Orichalcum Caste of the Alchemical Exalted.

Even if Blessed of Noi was one of the Spark’s titles, she was extremely dubious of any such association. Propaganda maintained that it was the Minister of Curiosity who struck the nation’s ruling council with the divine inspiration that would lead to the creation of the glot economy. It was certainly true that Noi was seen as something of a patron of the glass market, and many of the cities most infamous glot bosses were hopelessly intertwined with his cult.

For all her disdain for the Minister, however, she could not deny some kinship with him. Was her relentless drive towards perfection an aspect of Noi as well? Did her desire to see the corruption in her beloved Arat burned away echo the minister’s passion? Noi was also the overseer of carnality and lust, and when the Spark shivered as her hands roamed her body she could not help but acknowledge that she was akin to Noi in some respects.

In Autochthonia, prayer was always seen as the worthiest and most honorable form of labor. What greater toil could there be than one that fueled the beating heart of Autochthon himself? No response was ever expected from either the Great Maker or his Ministers, as mankind’s continued survival within Autochthon’s body was repayment enough. Still, they were willing to offer boons to those that pleased them. With this in mind, the Spark decided to pray.

The Spark slipped off her robes, both in supplication to the Ministers and from a need to vent excess heat. Now naked, she shifted her position away from the center of the sacred octogram at the floor of the temple. She was now angled in such a way that a pillar hid her disgraceful state from the disapproving gaze of Mog, while simultaneously giving Noi a good view of her burning body. It was certainly not the Spark’s custom to pray in such a manner, considering her inexperience with the carnal aspects of her body. Still, she knew instinctively what she needed, and the Theomacracy had acknowledged it as a valid method to petition Noi. 

She sank to the ground, resting her back against the floor as she spread her legs open in supplication before the Minister. As her fingers entered her canal she was surprised to find herself breathing heavily again, her lungs respiring air her body did not need. It seemed she breathed whenever she was sexually aroused, as though she was drowning in a sea of sensation that left her very soul straining for air. 

As she both abased and pleasured herself before the tapestry of the Minister, she silently prayed for release. Yet she begged him for more than just the release that came from orgasm. She prayed for release from her unwanted desires. She prayed for release from her confining arrest, so that she could once more fulfill her purpose as a servant of Claslat. She prayed for release from her imperfections.

Her dexterous fingers could bend at impossible angles inside herself, hitting all the right spots. Her keen senses heightened every sensation to an alarming degree, setting every copper nerve inside her on fire. Her flawless memory allowed her to perfectly recall all the ways Usho was able to drive her mad, which she did her best to replicate on herself. Yet try as she might, she still could not give Noi the offering they both desired. The floor of the temple beneath her was stained with her lust and ardor, yet she still could not reach her peak. Some vital element was missing, and for all her power the most she could do was beg Noi to somehow free her from the feelings he saw fit to curse her with.

The Spark suddenly gave a start as she heard the shrine doors open. The Spark heard Usho’s nervous voice call out “Champion? Could I have a moment of your time?” She fixed a nearly sacrilegious glare at the tapestry of Noi, making it very clear that this was not the solution she had in mind. With a speed only a thoroughly embarrassed Exalt could achieve, she dove behind one of the temple’s pillars, denying Noi any more of his show.

“Is everything all right?” Usho said hesitantly from the other side of the pillar. Her robes were still strewn about the center of the temple, and she did not dare check around to see if the Lumpen noticed that. She didn’t dream that Usho would be see foolish as to tempt her wrath so quickly. If it weren’t for the fact that he was instrumental in having her house arrest repealed, she would have beaten him to within an inch of his life. She would have torn out his tongue so he could never boast about getting the better of her. She would hit him so hard that he wouldn’t even remember his own name, much less the way he humiliated her. As it was, she simply said with a dangerous growl from behind the pillar “Why do you disturb my meditations, Lumpen?”

Usho simply took her question as an invitation to ask his own. “Are you naked?” he asked hesitantly. 

The Spark had little faculty with deceit. Her voice was calm and cold as she responded, still keeping herself hidden from his view. “Yes. I am naked.”

She heard Usho swallowing, and could hear his heart rate spike. While she had more difficulty hearing the subtle vibrations of the Machine God’s divine breath, something as trivial as the sound of a mortal’s heart was simple to listen for. It was not just fear that caused his heart to skip a beat. The thought of her body enticed him. 

But his tone was confused rather than lustful. “If I may make an observation?”

“You will make it regardless, I expect,” the Spark said with visible frustration.

Usho seemed to have just enough awareness to realize he was treading dangerous territory, and remembered to apply the appropriate honorifics this time. “Esteemed Champion, while my experience with you has been limited, you never struck me as particularly modest.”

The Spark sunk back into the pillar, rational enough to acknowledge this fact as valid, even if it came from the mouth of a Lumpen. In truth, she was very proud of her body. It represented the power of the state, and the height of the Great Maker’s genius. It was a living symbol of the covenant between humankind and the gods, and she was honored beyond words that her soul was chosen to inhabit it.

And therein lay the problem. Her body was sacred, and losing control of it the way she did when she first orgasmed was unacceptable. “As I have said, I was willing to indulge your lusts, if it would sate your curiosity. That has clearly failed. I wish to make it very clear that we will not be repeating such an exercise in the future. I certainly do not want to send you conflicting messages by parading myself before you.”

“I understand, Honored Champion.” His tone sounded almost hurt. A vindictive part of the Spark was glad to notice that. 

“Good. Now avert your gaze and hand me my clothes,” the Spark said with a practiced tone of command. The Lumpen, however, simply let out a small laugh.

She repeated the order, firmly. “Give me my clothes. Now!”

“Say please,” Usho said coolly. The Spark’s hand clenched into a fist, and she now absolutely refused to bend. “Never,” she breathed hatefully towards him.

“I will hold to my promise. Simply say please as you would when you are speaking to an actual human being, and I will happily comply with any of your wishes.”

“I have an alternative plan. I will wait here, behind this pillar, until you either depart or starve to death.” The Spark was stubborn. It was not fury she felt at the Lumpen now. She found within herself a deep reserve of stubborn defiance, something she was never able to exhibit as an unquestioning servant of the state’s will.

Suddenly the Spark heard her clothing rustle. Thinking that the Lumpen finally relented, she craned her head around the pillar. Yet what she found was the Lumpen, poking and prodding her robes with an air of interest.

“What are you doing?” she hissed towards him. For the first time since they fornicated so wildly together in the previous shift, they made eye contact.

“You seemed to have sprung a leak at some point. I get the feeling,” he said slyly, “that you were here for more than just prayer.” The Spark wasn’t sure whether it would help her case to explain to him that masturbation was a perfectly valid means of supplicating Noi, but her train of thought suddenly seized as the Lumpen began to *smell* her clothes, like some sort of beast.

“You have a very distinctive scent,” said the Lumpen, as though he was sampling a glass of wine. “Do you want me to stop this?”

“Yes! You damned animal!”

“Then say please. If you cannot treat me as a person, then I am afraid there is no reason not to act like an animal.” He took another sniff, smelling the residue of her ardor. “It’s not a particularly difficult demand. Before my demotion, I said ‘please’ to my subordinates all the time. It was s a meaningless gesture, but one they appreciated.”

“As I have said, I am not here for your appreciation. In any form,” she said acidly.

Usho put down her clothes, his tone defensive. “I am aware of that, believe me. I am here to serve you,” he said, placing an emphasis on the word ‘serve’ that the Spark found strange, “not the other way around. But even I have limits.”

But the Spark had her limits as well, it seemed. She moved out from behind the pillar, exposing herself fully to his gaze, her fury overcoming her shame. “Ah, the poor Lumpen. I have not treated you so badly for your station,” she said, noting with a combination of distaste and spiteful satisfaction that the sight of her body was beginning to make his trousers begin to tent slightly. Her fingers lightly scored the bruised neck where she choked him earlier, and added, “Or at least, you had to provoke me before I did. Do you want to continue to provoke me, Lumpen?” Her voice was cold, and dangerous.

Gulping, Usho could only pull himself back. He almost seemed to cling to the Spark’s clothes, holding it in front of him as though they could somehow shield him from her. When he spoke, it was with the same mix of fury and fear he showed from before. “I never asked for this! I had a decent life, for a Lumpen, before I was assigned to serve you. It might be unfair of me to resent you, but right now you are a source of misery and grave danger in my life!” 

“Whining brat,” the Spark hissed, as she advanced on him, her righteous fury beating down her arousal. “I have no pity to spare for you. Now give me back my clothes!” she shouted, with a curious degree of petulance as she wrenched the clothes from his hands. Yet she underestimated the Lumpen’s strength ever so slightly and her emotional state interfered with her calculations. Instead of smoothly snatching away the clothes from his hands, there was an audible tear as the Spark was left holding half a robe.

The Spark merely stared at the terrified Lumpen, her mind blank. Noi was laughing at her, she concluded. She was naked before all the gods, lubrication still leaking unbidden from between her legs from her interrupted communion with Noi, and bickering with a Lumpen as though they were both in a comedy play put on during a holiday. She should have known better than to pray to the Minister of Curiosity. Impulses warred within her: her desire to snap Usho’s neck like a twig, her desire to bend over and let Usho plow her from behind, her desire to send Usho away and have a moment’s peace at last, and so on and so on. The Spark was no longer able to rationally assess the pros and cons of her decisions, and so remained paralyzed.

To her surprise, when she finally deigned to look upon him the Spark found Usho to be similarly stunned. At some point he fell to the ground and broke down into sobs, the accumulated stress finally catching up to him.  The Lumpen’s tears fell freely onto what remained of her robes, snot and salt water mingling with the remains of her arousal. His voice was low, soft, and pained. “I am quite used to contempt being heaped upon me for my many sins.” He pointed a trembling hand towards the tapestry of Mog, the Minister of Justice, for emphasis. “It’s right and proper that I be loathed. But I have sacrificed a great deal to serve you, and I never had all that much to give up in the first place. I cannot bear your disdain on top of that.”

The Spark looked down towards him, at a loss from the mortal’s sudden outburst. It was clear to her that they were both tormenting one another. Her indecision was resolved, and she gently pressed a hand to the Lumpen’s shoulder “It seems we are both learning a great deal of unexpected things,” the Spark said, determined that one of them would finally show proper serenity in the temple. Usho dried his tears, reassured by her regained sense of calm. He held her robes towards her, his gaze downcast. The Spark gently put the clothes aside, debating whether to have them cleaned or burned, but was absolutely certain that they would not be worn in that state.

She knew how to address the morale of the overall population: praise the masses when they did well, punish them when they did not, and make certain they understood that both Autochthon and the State loved them. Something like this, where she had to deal with a single man weeping shamelessly, was entirely out of her depth. Yet he was both a member of her household and a servant of the State, and it was vital that they achieve an understanding. She remembered the tense peace negotiations Claslat had with Estasia years ago, and with that frame of reference in mind she decided to deal with him as though he were a respected enemy rather than a servant. 

Determined to hammer out a compromise, she said authoritatively, “Very well. I will no longer refer to you as Lumpen. I will refer to you by name, and not take your caste into account when assessing your performance. In exchange, you will show me the respect that is due a Champion of your homeland. Is that acceptable, Usho?” After all, wasn’t it the Spark’s duty to guide and protect all of the state’s citizens? Even the basest of Lumpen deserved that, and it was clear that negative reinforcement was not very effective with the stubborn mortal.

“That is more than acceptable, Champion,” he said, in relief and genuine gratitude. Usho smiled and bowed his head, showing for the first time wholly sincere deference. Because of that, the Spark’s lip twitched upward too. But only for a moment. Usho’s eyes carefully scanned her naked body, but with clinical detachment rather than brazen lust. “You were trying to commune with Noi, weren’t you?”

“I…” the Spark hesitated for a moment before nodding her head slightly. Deceit was never her strong point. Still, she was curious. “How would you know about that? The ritual is a fairly obscure one.” For the most part, it was employed by mortal members of the priesthood to simultaneously relieve sexual tension and fulfill their mandate as a servant of the gods. The Spark doubted Usho was a priest before his demotion. Even for a Lumpen, he did not strike her as a particularly pious person.

He flushed and turned his head aside. “Noi is a particularly popular deity among the Populat. I’m something of his devotee.” The way the Lumpen’s lip twitched, the Spark suspected that she was not getting the whole story. Most likely, he dallied with the glass-whores in the past and picked up some of their sordid methods of worshipping Noi. Yet the city’s prostitutes seemed to have the Maker’s approval. The omens always declared against setting the Inquisitors against the strange philosophies of Arat’s glass-whores.

Noting her curiosity, the Lumpen hastily tried to change the subject by elaborating on the ritual. “You expose yourself completely, in order to catch Noi’s intemperate eye. Then you put on a show, to titillate him and attract his interest. It’s said that when you pleasure yourself, Noi follows suit, and he’s quite receptive to requests after release.” The Lumpen’s tone was oddly reverent. “Noi is ever the gentleman, and he won’t press if you leave him unfulfilled. But it’ll be a very long time before Noi ever bothers to spend time with you again.” He nodded his head in deference to the god. Noi’s image only smiled back, as though enjoying a private joke at the Lumpen’s expense.

Curious, the Spark shifted her gaze back and forth between the icon of the god and the Lumpen, hoping that it would somehow help her understand the both of them. Yet all that came of it was a sudden burst of self-consciousness. The Spark could not help but be aware that after everything else she was still naked before Autochthon, all eight of his Ministers, and Usho the mortal. Demurely, she covered her body with her hands as best she could. It may have been a flight of fancy, but it almost seemed that Noi’s smile was now a lustful leer. She wondered, as flames of desire begin to stoke within the furnace of her heart, if the other Ministers also lusted after her as Noi did. 

Her body was tense, and lubrication continued to flow down her thighs. She still *desired*. Her body was still left wanting after Usho interrupted her communion with Noi. She stepped in front of Usho, cupping his face and tearing away his gaze from Noi to her body. Shamelessly, she pressed her chest to his face, and after overcoming his initial surprise the man practically leapt into action. The Spark arched her back as he kissed and sucked the tips of her breasts. Somehow, the sensation was even more erotic than when she pleasured herself earlier. She let out a low moan as he bit down on a nipple, and what would have drawn blood and yelps of pain in a mortal woman only drew shivers of pleasure from her body of clay and metal.

She pulled herself free of his mouth, and Usho gave a sudden gasp as she pressed herself down on him, her superior strength and surprising weight pushing him down to the floor beneath her. Her legs straddled his groin, her hips gyrating as she felt him respond from beneath his clothes. The mortal was thoroughly overwhelmed with lust, and the Alchemical could not help but move in for the proverbial kill as she leaned down and forced her tongue into his mouth. She felt his cock strain beneath her as he melted into her kiss.

The Spark’s hands began to roam his body, tearing off his clothing with audible rips. It was only fair, given that he soiled her robes just moments before. Only after making sure there was nothing but bare flesh beneath her did she break the kiss. Letting only her behind graze his pulsing member, she brought her mouth to his ear. The Spark whispered to him, pleading and begging as though he were Arat himself, as though he were the State, as though he were a god instead of a mere Lumpen.

“Please Usho,” she breathed huskily, “help me put on a show for Noi.” Usho could only nod, incapable of refusal after being overcome the Spark’s raw sexuality. She found the sight of the far too arrogant man now looking so overwhelmed very enticing. She could not help but kiss him again. When she finally released him, she glowed with passion. “Tell me, Usho. Tell me how I can put on a show for Noi.”

Every time the mortal tried to speak, the Spark would turn his speech into inarticulate moans. She teased him with nips and kisses to his muscled body while her perfectly sculpted backside rubbed against his hardness, begging him for answers and then making sure he was too overwhelmed with sensation to articulate a proper response. The Spark enjoyed every moment of it, finding that sexually dominating him was much more rewarding than overwhelming him physically. Unlike their first encounter the Spark was in complete control, mastering both Usho’s body as well as her own.

She was well versed in the biology of mortals, including their methods of reproduction. Until today she never had any reason or inclination to put such knowledge to use. Now theory was being put into practice as Usho’s nude flesh writhed helplessly beneath her, while the Spark whispered the lewdest filth she knew into his ear. 

---

Usho’s body was practically screaming at his brain to enter her. Try as he might though, her tantalizing slit remained out of reach as her cool and smooth rear brushed against his tool. It tormented him to have her pressed against him and begging to take her she continued to only tease him. Any time he begged her for mercy she’d lock her lips with his, or give a delicate nibble to his chest, or press forward and push her breasts against his face.

The Spark was overwhelming him, and he needed to regain his composure just for a moment to give the Champion an answer. Yet she knew just how to touch him to make it impossible for him to give her what she wanted. It wasn’t until she whispered into his ear in a husky, erotic voice the most embarrassing excuse for sexual phrasing Usho ever heard that her remembered that he was dealing with someone who only ever had her first orgasm a shift ago.

“Do you want me to put your penis in my mouth? Would you like some oral stimulation? I could fornicate with you, if you like? Both my vagina and anus are available. Anything you want, Usho, all you have to do is tell me.”  He’d heard much worse from a young Lector he spent time with, but given the dire earnestness in the Spark’s voice and her slight hesitance as she spoke this, it was clear the Spark felt that she was saying something very scandalous.

Usho couldn’t help but laugh. It was all that he could manage under the circumstances. The Spark drew back and ceased her assault, plainly not expecting that sort of reaction, and Usho was able to gain a brief moment to catch his breath and introduce her to some of the Populat’s coarser vernacular.

His hand quickly snapped out, rolling her metal nipple tightly between a pair of fingers as she sighed in pleasure. Not close enough to whisper conspiratorially in her ear, he let his voice ring out to be plainly heard by the Ministers and Autochthon. “I want you to show Noi what a slut you are. I want you to press your tits against his image while I fuck you raw from behind.” Usho was able to pull himself up as he continued his advance, squeezing her soft golden breasts as he kissed her shoulder. She fell back slightly, the two halves of her buttocks pressed against his penis. “And after that I want you to tell me what you want me to do, just as long as you scream it.” He added as an afterthought, in a more deferential tone, “And please, could you never use the word fornicate?”

The Spark was not one to remain on the back foot for long, especially not against a mortal. She drew him in for another stunning kiss, and Usho couldn’t help but feel electricity travel down his spine as she did so. “So ‘fuck’ me then,” she said, practically tasting the word. She pulled herself off of him, and Usho felt a simultaneous sense of longing and relief. As he requested, she pressed herself against the tapestry of Noi while she raised her bottom high, and fortuitously her head was level with the Minister’s groin. She spread her legs and looked back at him invitingly, her Orichalcum body shining in the torchlight.

He resisted the urge to run to her. Instead he walked at a steady pace, letting both the Spark and Noi see his stiff penis bob between his legs, an offering for them both. The Spark was breathing quickly as he approached, standing on her toes to raise her rear even higher for him as her hands held onto the walls flanking the tapestry for support.

This was still a prayer, and rather than simply enter her as she expected Usho raised one hand in a priestly fashion to invoke Noi, while his other hand teased her labia. He remained in the traditional pose of Arat’s Clerics, the only exception being that he was naked, hard, and had the city’s most revered Champion bucking against his fingers. 

“You are here in supplication. Tell Noi what you want.” Usho’s voice was the best approximation he could manage of the dulcet tones of a priest. Hopefully it was good enough for Noi, and the Spark was hardly rational enough to find any issues.

Usho had to slow down his teasing and repeat the question, before the Spark said in hesitating gasps, “P-perfection! I wish to be perfected.”

Usho stopped his teasing and gave her a firm slap to her rump. “Liar!” he cried. Usho doubted that anything he did to the Spark would cause pain, and given her eager moan the slap hurt Usho’s hand more than it did the Spark’s backside. Taking a brief moment to rub his numb hand he resumed his teasing, and said in a more seductive voice, “Tell Noi what you really want.”

“To serve the Maker!” Usho bit his lip. His hand was going to really hurt after this. Nevertheless he slapped her round bottom again, the Spark’s fingers tearing gouges in the nearby wall as she rubbed her breasts against Noi and ground her rear against Usho.

He let his fingers slip inside her again, reveling in the sound of her pleasured groans. Her face was turned to the side, the side of her mouth pressed tightly against Noi’s groin. Her eyes, or what passed for them, were tightly shut and she smiled happily as she humped his fingers. It was the first time he saw the Spark give a smile that wasn’t a hateful sneer, and it took some considerable willpower to not plunge inside the beautiful creature right then and there. Instead he continued to toy with her, giving Noi his show and letting the Spark’s anticipation build further.

He pulled his fingers outside of her. Though she cried out in protest, she remained in position, standing on top her toes in submission to both Noi and the Minister’s representative. “Tell me what you *really* want,” he said in a low and seductive voice. The Spark gave him a vulnerable look that made his heart throb, as she whispered softly “I want to protect Arat.” Usho swatted her again, hard enough that his hand was left numb. Droplets of the Spark’s sweet lubricant dripped freely from between her legs while she feebly invoked the names of the Ministers over and over.

 He positioned himself behind her, his cock teasing the outer edges of her folds as he pulled back roughly on the thin silver wires on her head that passed for hair. They both knew she could have crushed him in a heartbeat if it pleased her to do so, yet she still let their game continue. 

“What do you want right now, more than anything else?” he growled to her as their gazes met. The Spark’s back burned against his chest, and while she herself did not sweat she was now stained with Usho’s perspiration. She shook her head free of his grasp, her wire hair now unkempt and disheveled. The look she gave Usho was wild and hungry.

“I want to cum,” she mumbled. Usho rewarded her with a single piston inside her, causing her to scream loudly in ecstasy. Her legs nearly gave out, and Usho had to use all of his strength to keep the Alchemical steady. She was drenched and more than ready for him, yet he still pulled out again. “Bastard bastard bastard, test me any more and I’ll just rape you!” she cried, vulgarity slipping from her lips like a stream. Yet still she remained in position.

Grinning wickedly, his twisted expression matching Noi’s, he brought his wet fingers to her mouth. She sucked his digits eagerly, almost submissively. “That’s right. Right now, you don’t care about Arat, or the Maker, or anything else. All you care about is cumming.” She nodded her head in desperation, mumbling in acknowledgement against his hand “I want to cum, I need to cum, make me cum, just let me cum.”

Usho couldn’t resist her any further. As lost as the Shining Spark was to her yearnings, he wanted her just as much. He plunged deep inside the paradise of her cunt, marveling that he of all people could make a being as perfect as her want him so badly. She cried out with every fuck, crying out his name, crying out her encouragement, crying out just how *good* it all felt. Usho felt pure energy riot within him, as though Noi himself was blessing his efforts. He wanted her to orgasm just as much as she did, as he fucked her with more fury and passion than he ever did with any mortal woman.

---

The Shining Spark of Devotion, Blessed of Noi, the Shining Bodhisattva and greatest of Arat’s champions squealed in relief as she finally received the dick she so craved. There was nothing else in Autochthon but Usho, fucking her with abandon. She eagerly matched his movements, letting him mount her from behind as though she were a wild animal. He was a beast too now, and he grunted inarticulately as her wet canal squeezed tightly against his hard shaft and sweating body. She guided his hands to her breasts as he plunged in and out, squeezing her ample bosom as though he’d fall into the Void if he released her. Usho was talented, and if she were a mortal woman she did not doubt that she would have peaked easily by now. But Autochthon’s Chosen wanted so much more than what could satisfy a mere mortal.

“Slap my ass again! Punish my cunt! Give me pain!” she implored with every thrust. The Spark doubted that anything Usho did to her could cause her agony, but she wanted him to give it to her as hard as he possibly could. The mortal obeyed eagerly, slapping her with every thrust. She submitted to him happily, now thoroughly stripped bare of everything else. At this moment she was no longer a Champion carrying the weight of a city on her shoulders, and she was able to abandon the endless sense of purpose that dominated her existence. There was only fucking and feeling, her body in servitude to a soul of the Maker and a citizen of the State as was right and proper. 

She let pure essence flow from the furnace in her heart, out from her groin and into Usho’s body. She empowered him with strength and stamina beyond all but the greatest of mortal men, all to make him fuck her faster, harder, and deeper. The Theomacracy taught her that using her sacred essence for something so trivial was a sin, but it was such a good sin, one that made her legs squirm and pussy quiver. It was such a small offense, and would only ever be met with winking approval by Noi.

She was able to keep a tight reign on her essence as she came, keeping that lightning bolt of ecstasy locked within her so that it would not spread to Usho like last time. She didn’t want him to release yet, and she would not be content with a single orgasm. She screamed in honest delight as her vaginal walls contracted around him, her lubrication squirting out and staining the feet of Noi’s tapestry as an offering. Still she commanded him to thrust inside her, sending more motes of essence towards him to heighten his efforts and drive back his own peak. 

As she clung against the tapestry she knew now that she could never abandon such pleasure. Lust was a part of her, some inextricable part of the Maker’s design. Like all the Ministers, Noi also had a hand in her body’s creation, and as she continued to accept Usho’s passion she knew that Noi too was holy. It was almost like meditation in a way, her mind now free of thought. As she was pushed to greater heights again, the only sensation she was aware of was Usho ravishing her body. Her gaze was fixed forward to the face of Noi, letting him enjoy the sight of her body getting fucked from behind. It was entirely different than from her earlier masturbation before him, and rather than beg him to free her from the pleasure she silently begged the god to drag her to even greater depths.
 
She imagined that it was Noi himself in front of her rather than a simple image. She could envision the Minister clearly, a towering being of metal comprised of cogs and gears. Yet his masked face had a shockingly human expression, one that smiled impishly down towards her. He presented his member to the Spark, a great smooth piston made out of purest orichalcum, well over a foot in length. While it may have only been fantasy, she nevertheless gave the god his due. She was once again the bridge between man and the gods, sucking the divine cock of Noi while Usho used her from behind. A human would have suffocated trying to take such a length and girth within their mouth, but the Spark did not need to breath. Her head bobbed against his Noi’s divine member, slurping and sucking eagerly while Usho’s thrusts pushed her further and further down Noi’s length down to the minister's very base. 

Soon the god spilt his divine seed within her waiting mouth, and the Spark swallowed the pure electrical energy that was Noi’s semen. She came again as the essence pooled within her belly, driving her circuitry wild. It resonated through her body all the way through to the soulgem on her brow, and the Spark was given revelation.

I love you, cried Suatra as her lover’s thrusting member caused her to orgasm. It was wonderful, as always, though having a screw just outside the foreman’s office made things especially naughty. 

I love you, moaned Eben as he came within his companion’s mouth. He was always so eager with him. He could not help but forgive him whenever he indulged with other men whenever their duties separated them.

I love you, said Leseny, grinning devilishly as her current paramour licked her to an electrifying climax. She meant it too, this time, marveling at how his cock sprang to life as the hot wax spilled onto his chest. She descended down upon his aching tool, knowing that she would definitely spend as much time as she could with this one.

I love you, grunted Yora, as her man fucked her ass roughly. She liked it that way, and the slight soreness that would stay with her would let his presence linger after her company deployed again. She sighed, knowing that it would be a long time before she would come back.

I love you all, smiled Arrod, as he surveyed the orgy in front of him. The festival had become wild, with men and women were indulging freely in one another’s bodies. A young woman was sandwiched between him and another man, and she screamed as the two of them released inside her from both ends. 

The Spark felt a climax from each of her past lives. She experienced them again and again as she speared herself against Usho's erection, until finally it was her own body that achieved release. This time she could not keep her essence restrained, as Usho felt her bliss travel through her towards him. He spilled his seed inside her in strong spurts, and both of them collapsed to the temple floor exhausted. He was still inside her, his semen and her juices pooling beneath them. 

“…love you,” muttered the Spark, reflexively echoing her past lives. She was satisfied, and bathed in the afterglow. The Alchemical practically purred as she pressed herself against him, her painful itch finally scrached

“Honored Champion?” Usho was confused by her utterance, wondering if he heard her correctly. The Spark, remembering herself, cleared her head. “It’s nothing, Usho.” The Spark was relaxed and serene, calm flowing through her. She had gained a new understanding of herself, and perhaps Noi as well. It was highly likely that her lusts would riot again, but this too was a part of the Maker’s design. Blind pleasure cleared her mind just as well as meditation, and there was certainly insight to be gained there. The Spark was thankful to Noi that she had an attractive, foolish Lumpen to help her explore this further.

Usho wasn’t sure what to do with the Alchemical hanging limply in his arms, which simply stared up at him with a surprisingly soft look. She traced a line down his chest, a curiously affectionate gesture. Somehow, they had achieved an understanding. 

“Champion?” Usho asked, in a hesitant voice. He seemed like he was debating whether or not to say something dangerous. But the Spark was in a good mood, and simply sighed contentedly as the man softened inside of her. “Speak freely Usho. I believe you've earned it.”

“I would like to become your student in the martial arts.” The Spark’s eyes widened, and her newfound feeling of calm was beginning to slip from her fingers once again.

“Absolutely not,” she said, with her now typical stoic flatness.

---