Work Text:
Diamond District - Week 13, Tuesday, Evening
60 minutes. I eye the holo screen above the stove. 167 hours of this torture. Living. Cooking. Fighting. Fucking. And it comes down to these last minutes. I groan out of frustration. I can feel Kylie smirking at me, sipping her wine, enjoying my torture.
The vatmeat hisses in the pan, tearing me away from grinding against the counter. I shake the pan, stirring the too-regular cubes of synthetic steak, causing an uproar of fat and oil. I'm glad for the apron I'm wearing, protecting my otherwise-naked flesh as it pops its anger at my disturbance. I return the pan to its hob, checking the rice (real, thank goodness, the synth stuff always tastes like potatoes). Three minutes left on its timer. The steam from the rice cooker fills the kitchen with the smell of tumeric.
I stir the tzatziki sauce, ensuring the yogurt base hasn't separated from the olive oil. Cooking is an intricate dance and I'm in the final motion, timers counting to zero. It starts with the rice and I open the maker, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam, and I layer it carefully at the bottom of a pair of prepared bowls. Vegetables, oiled and spiced (my preferred state), are ready next, the hot pan's content transferred to the bowls, and the pan dropped into the sink. And finally I judge the steak cubes done, carefully spearing each to add to the medley.
"Dinner is ready, Mistress." I lift the bowls of dinner and sauce, making my way to the table.
The tall, black haired hacker rises to follow me. Her eyes burn against my bare back. I bend over the table, putting the bowls in their places. A hand presses on my back, synthleather cool against my heat, preventing me from standing back up. With rough motions, she tugs the tie of the apron, tugging the only bit of fabric on me free.
"Better. I like looking at all of you." She lets me up, taking her seat at the table. "Sit."
I obey, squirming a little as the action jostles the plug inside me. We eat in silence, but her naked feet wander my smooth legs, teasing and stroking. 41 minutes. Utensils clack against the bottom of bowls. I remain seated, avoiding Kylie's eyes. Her toes touch the metal between my legs. My hips flex, grinding the cage against the limited pressure she grants, further stirring the plug inside me with my desperation.
Then she's removed the foot, standing to smirk at me. I finally meet her eyes. "Come on, I want to see how much more you can take. I've only got 40 minutes left to tease you." I gulp, but follow her — admiring that gymnast ass — to her room. The suite is lowly lit by a collection of maglev lights, the dim orbs flitting about like nervous hummingbirds as the controlling program adjusts to Kylie's presence. Along the far wall, her massive bed is book-ended by glass display cases, showing off her impressive collection of toys: dildos, paddles, vibrators, cuffs, straps, grinders, switches, ropes, and more esoteric options displayed like trophies. I guess they were, to Kylie.
She turns, offering a hand. I accept it and find myself gently lowered to the bed, my naked body pressed for a brief moment against her clothed one. Then I'm exposed, laid out on soft fabric for her vivid eyes to devour. Long, brown hair reaching. Brown, almost black, eyes begging. Handful tits clamoring for touch. A belly, lightly curved with the beginnings of abs, heaving with breath. Legs, always toned, now stretched over the edge of the bed. And my slender girlcock, locked in a chastity cage. Locked for the last week.
"Gods I want to eat you up." I flush at her praise and gaze. "Stay right there, Snack." She sways away. I track her with my eyes.
The cabinet is opened.
She takes out my favorite pair of cuffs, her favorite strap, and a powerful vibrating wand. Her smile is distinctly canine, showing off her pointed, perfect teeth. "I'm going to win."
I have no response. I'm eager. I'm determined.
"Wrists," she commands. I offer my hands and she cuffs them and lets them drop above my head again. "Good. Now hold still."
The wand clicks on, humming with the promise of pleasure. 37 minutes and I win. A whole week in chastity. The vibrator lands just below my sack and my dreams of winning turn into pink vapor. She's been winding me up all week. I groan, my breath fleeing my body before the vibrations, every nerve in my body lighting up to tell me of the joy I feel. My vision goes, eyes rolling back in my skull. I think my hips buck. Maybe they wiggle?
She seizes the base of the buttplug she put in me before I started cooking, slowly twisting the smooth metal, dragging it out of me. I finally manage to reverse the flow of air, filling my lungs with an extended gasp. I think something is leaking out of me. Drool? Pre-cum? I can't tell.
She removes the toy — the vibrator — letting the white fade from my vision. I pant, trying to catch my breath to the sound of her giggles. "Wow, just a week and so desperate already?"
"B-bi-" I start, only to be interrupted by the plug finally overcoming my grasp and slipping out. Thought leaves my brain.
"Oh? Is someone trying to brat? While I've turned them into a mindless toy? Tisk, tisk." The length of the dildo on her harness rubs over the cage. "I'm going to fuck you so good." She grabs a leg, using the leverage to put me in the perfect position for her strap-on to align with my ass. She locks eyes with me, giving me that suspended moment of clarity. Knowing she's about to fuck me silly. Then she's pushing forwards, silicon like a coolant rod into the overheated reactor of my core. The vibrator clicks on. She begins rocking back and forth, establishing a rhythm. Her wand touches the tip of the snug cage, turning the object of my torment for the last week into stimulation. I'm definitely leaking pre-cum, the distinctive pitch of the vibrator changed by the amount of liquid I'm oozing.
"Yes yes yes," I chant. Rational thought begins to empty from my brain. She's a master of topping, using her strap and the vibrator to hit every erogenous button. She's starting to breathe hard too, the frantic thrusting testing her cardio.
Something begins building in me. A sensation I've never felt before. It's heat and tension, just below my belly button. A spring and a bonfire.
"Kylie, kylie, something-" She lays a finger on my lips.
"Hush. Enjoy it. Or beg for the cage to be taken off." I whimper, but nod, letting her remove the finger to resume its grip on my leg. Her hips resume their reciprocating motion, stoking my fire.
I can feel the pleasure in my bones, her expert use of my body seizing hold of my everything, placing it at the altar of Kylie. The spring winds tighter. The bonfire rages higher. The vibrator shifts slightly, putting more of my sack in contact with it.
I scream. My vision is white. All is consumed as the bonfire shoots through my body. As the spring goes loose, scattering around my insides. The moment is drawn out. I think Kylie stops moving. I think the vibrator is removed. I am the orgasm. Pure, stunning, new.
Finally, my consciousness returns. Kylie is laying beside me, stroking my hair. "Hey girlie, you ok? That was kind of intense."
I nod, mouth and throat dry. I swallow. It doesn't help. I feel like I'm floating, tension a non-factor in my body. I swallow again. "That was new."
"Oh?" Her voice is a gentle breeze, batting around the leaf of my body. I let myself twirl on the current for a moment.
"I've never- it's never been like that. I've never cum from just," I lose the words, watching them sling off my green glider as it spins in the wind, "inside."
"Oh, my Dear. We'll have to fix that. Every girl deserves to cum like that as many times as she wants. I wonder if every time will be that intense."