Chapter 2 #11
He really has gone all stern again. For a moment, I felt like he was almost sweet and protective, the way he put himself between Drak and me. But I guess he’s going to deal with me regarding the ship issue, and I guess he’s going to do it the way he has dealt with everything. Physically.
I bite my lower lip and I try not to say anything. Saying things in moments like these always makes them worse.
“Fortunately, there is a chance for this to be a learning experience for you. The way you’re going to be trained to the machine involves sensors that connect to you. They’re going to read your outputs and in time, that will control various elements of machines in our research.”
I nod along, pretending to understand. I think I get it. The words are simple enough. It’s just that the concept is super weird and I can’t see why anyone would want this, but I guess science tends to be that way. It seems fucking odd and then suddenly you have a microwave.
He rolls out a relatively low padded table device that looks small compared to the rest of everything in the room. I realize that is because it is made for me. Arkon taps the padded surface.
“Come and lie down,” he says.
It’s odd. Like a massage table, but with way more points of articulation.
I lie on it, and find that it’s very comfortable.
As soon as I am in position, he starts strapping me to it and moving the various parts of it about.
He moves the knee part of the legs down, so I’m in a kind of bent over position.
He straps my thighs and my calves down so I cannot move them.
He does the same to my forearms and wrists, both of which have their own little padded places to go.
Then there’s my torso and head. My head pokes through a hole in the not quite a massage table, and he secures that with a strap behind it.
Another two run across my back. By the time he is done, I am snugged up so tightly against this padded device I cannot move at all. It’s unexpectedly comfortable.
“How is that?”
“It’s good,” I say, my voice kind of muffled.
He makes a pleased sound. “I thought you might dislike it. You have the temperament of someone who wants to run about and be free. Though, the ship’s steward did tell me you took to your kennel on the vessel very well.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I mumble toward the floor as he keeps adjusting me. He’s spreading my legs open wider, into a position that is actually very lewd.
I feel a bolt of excitement at the notion of what he might do to me next. It could be anything. The rules I grew accustomed to on Earth clearly don’t apply here, and that mention of all the debt I’ve incurred has made me particularly, almost stereotypically keen to work what I owe off another way.
“Is this going to hurt?” I ask the question with some nervousness.
“The point isn’t to hurt you,” he says. “But given you’ve been naughty here and there, I suppose it’s worth telling you that it could be painful if I wanted it to be.”
“Oh, no,” I giggle. I wish I didn’t have that reaction, but the truth is I am so snugly held and there’s just something about being completely at the mercy of a stern alien that gives me an almost unbearable lightness.
He’s not going to hurt me. He needs me for work, for starters, and even if he didn’t, he has been more indulgent than stern, even when I deserved punishment.
“You think this is something amusing?” He growls the question down at me. I wonder if he is trying to sound stern, or if he is just letting his amusement leak through. Whatever one it is, I am getting those little bolts of excitement again.
He taps my ass lightly, affectionately.
“You enjoy this almost too much,” he says. “But that is a good sign. We’re going to be using a lot of different interface approaches with you…”
“Wow,” I say.
“Wow what?”
“I’m strapped down so firm I can’t even move and somehow you managed to make it boring.”
He laughs and smacks my ass, harder this time.
“You are not going to be bored for long,” he says. He flips up my skirt and lowers my underwear, and I am instantly much less bored.
“What…”
“Relax, if you can,” he says. “As I was trying to explain, controllers and such are often used by the hands. But the hands are limited in the number of fingers they have and how fast they can move. There are other parts of your body with finer, faster reaction times. Such as here…”
He lets the tips of his heated fingers run lightly over my sex.
“You want me to interface with a machine through…”
“Mhm,” he says.
“I don’t see how…”
“You don’t need to understand it yet,” he says. “Today is training. You’re going to receive stimulus and that will calibrate your body and the machine. Hold still. I am going to attach some… oh, I suppose you don’t have any choice but to hold still,” he laughs.
I squirm in place with the few fractions of an inch I have, just to prove I still can.
“I’m going to have to shave you clean first,” he says. “I want to give these something to attach to.”
The feeling of having him lather my most intimate areas while I am stuck in the alien equivalent of stocks is incredibly vulnerable. Also, erotic. Everything Arkon does to me feels good. I don’t know how he achieves a near constant level of peak seduction.
I make little muffled noises that reveal my arousal. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t. He’d know by the way my body responded. The way my body always responds.
“You like this,” he says, sounding very satisfied. “I picked well. Everything about you is perfectly calibrated to this task. You were made for me.”
He starts to draw a razor over the sensitive skin of my pussy, shaving away the curls of hair that have protected me for a long time.
“Your intimate areas are so beautiful,” he says. “You have a very delicate sexual interface.”
It would have been hot if he’d called my pussy anything other than an interface. I feel a spike of annoyance, but then he strokes over the freshly shaven skin and that spark turns back to heat.
“Beautiful,” he repeats himself. “The way you flower under my touch. The way your lips swell in response to stimulation. You are complex and you are sensitive and you are ready to be attached.”
His fingers leave my sex, and then I feel him put something right above my clit, something that sucks onto the skin and stays there even when his hand moves away. Another one slips onto my clit directly, which would make me writhe if I could possibly move that much.
He puts another on my left labia and one on the right, and then another pair on my inner thighs, and… I lose track of all the places he puts his little suckers.
“What are these supposed to do?”
“They’re supposed to make you feel something, and they’re supposed to feel something in turn,” he says. “Don’t worry, you can’t do anything wrong in this. It’s a calibration phase. I’m going to turn the machine on now.”
He does just that. I feel all the little hoses flex and the suckers grip a little tighter.
It feels as though I am being caressed and teased and felt, all at the same time.
It’s not like a hand, but it does feel surprisingly organic.
Almost like some kind of machine tentacles are all over my sex in one tantalizing motion.
“Now,” he says. “Remember about those credits?”
I can barely hear him over the arousal that keeps coursing through me, making it impossible for me to think straight.
The sucker above my clit is giving me a thrumming input that makes me feel as though I am being rubbed in wickedly fast, but ever so light circles.
It’s a touch designed to create a craving, and it works.
Not being able to grind my hips instantly makes me feel absolutely mad.
“Lemme move a little, please,” I whine.
“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “The machine needs to read your responses, not the motions you make, but all the impulses coming back through the nerve endings. This might feel a little intense, but you can handle it. Just breathe.”
Within just a few minutes, I am whining and mewling with need. I can feel my arousal practically dripping from me.
“I bet your pussy would enjoy a cock,” he muses. “Being stretched around hot, hard flesh would make so much of this unrequited need be satisfied. But this isn’t how a sweet young woman like you should lose her innocence, is it?”
“What innocence?” I blurt out from my captive position. I feel like any semblance of naivety has been stripped from me now. From the moment I met this alien, he has been handling me in the most intimate of ways. I think he might have rubbed my pussy before he so much as held my hand.
“You’re still a virgin, and will be until you beg for release from that condition,” he lectures firmly.
“Beg?”
The word comes out with a kind of strange lilt because the sucker that is over my clit just lit up and started actively lapping at my most sensitive parts.
I forget a lot of what he was just saying, and instead all I can think about is the way I feel right now, how desperately I want to reach the peak that all these little machines seem to be driving me toward.
“Beg,” he says. “Beg for my cock deep inside this sweet hole.” His fingers join the suckers and I feel the tips of two of them sink inside my pussy as deep as my virginity will allow them.
He stirs me up for a moment, enjoying the sounds I make as I start to lose all control, then he pulls them free and leaves me to the mercy of the machine.
“I shouldn’t really do that,” he says. “It could interfere with the calibration data. Instead, I think your other naughty hole should be filled by way of punishment.”
I feel a dose of lubricant being delivered to my cheeks, a stream dripping down into the crevice of my butt. Then I feel something new. Well, I hear it first, another device being rolled into place and positioned.
I feel something blunt and rounded, but rather large pressing against the tight hole that I’ve never even considered letting a man touch.
“Not there!” I gasp. “That’s not for…”