A Fly in the Spider-Room

by Moro

Summary:

After months of loyalty therapies on her captured Gunnery Officer Ana Khouri, Triumvir Ilia Volyova is ready to put them to the test.

Khouri isn’t so sure the Mademoiselle’s supposed countermeasures are working all that well after all.

-En route to Delta Pavonis, 2546-

Triumvir Ilia Volyova sat in the plush control seat of the Spider-Room, steepling her fingers together thoughtfully.  Khouri didn’t sit down, since Volyova hadn’t told her to, but it was awkward to stand while Volyova sat in the control chair and just looked at her, reminding Khouri too much of being reprimanded by a superior officer.  Khouri couldn’t think of any reason Volyova might be displeased with her, however.  She had been, at least in her own estimation, as obedient to the Triumvir as she would have been expecting, and her performance in simulations with the gunnery had been satisfactory as far as she knew.  

But since they were in the Spider-Room again, it was probably because Volyova wanted to have a private discussion about something she wanted to keep away from the other Triumvirs.  Which did not narrow down the possible topics by much.  Not for the first time, Khouri wished she could understand the labyrinthine power plays constantly taking place around her, but Volyova was so far singularly uninterested in talking to her about it.  The Ultra woman was inscrutable, impossible to read, though she certainly seemed to enjoy making Khouri try.  

Enough time passed in silence for Khouri to begin feeling markedly uncomfortable, which irritated her.  Less likely that this was a “usual” visit to the Spider-Room, and, mulling it over, Khouri then suspected what would soon follow was some new loyalty test, but she couldn’t guess at the nature of it beyond that.  Volyova had inflicted such loyalty tests on Khouri with gradually more frequency over time, presumably because she now expected the therapies to be working and wanted to verify their effectiveness, but despite the Mademoiselle’s assurances, Khouri wasn’t entirely confident the therapies had been fully negated in the first place.  She had noticed she felt… different now than when she had first been brought aboard the lighthugger, in a manner which was difficult to quantify, but she also had multiple new neural implants with which she’d been aggressively training over the last several months, and an additional implant with an irritating Beta-level simulation on top of those, so some kind of change was hardly surprising.

Still, begrudgingly, Khouri had to admit that her life aboard the Nostalgia for Infinity was not so terrible, especially under the circumstances.  Volyova was demanding, and unnerved Khouri, and the rest of the crew unsettled her even more, but it wasn’t as though anything really awful had happened to her.  They hardly treated her cordially, but at least they weren’t outright cruel… yet, anyway.  Triumvir Sajaki frightened her, but she saw him infrequently.  

Khouri wondered if some of Volyova’s loyalty tests were of a less scientific purpose than Volyova might let on, as much out of her own enjoyment as anything.  The Ultra woman might be hard to read, but one thing Khouri was very certain of was that Ilia Volyova loved control.  The tight leash she kept Khouri on was proof of that.

Finally, Khouri couldn’t stand the artificial silence any longer, and prompted, “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?  I can’t imagine we came here for no reason.”

Volyova raised a thin, dark eyebrow, like she was surprised Khouri had spoken.  “It isn’t so much that I wanted to talk about anything,” she said, “as that I wanted to do something.”  Pause.  “And I dislike the other Triumvirs knowing too much about my affairs.”  

The obviously deliberate vagueness irritated Khouri even further.  Just say it then, what’s the point of dancing around it like this?  But Volyova liked making Khouri work to her conclusions, as though she expected her to have learned to read her mind, and yet always seemed pleased when Khouri would have to ask anyway; a game Volyova apparently never tired of playing.

“All right, what is it you want to do?” Khouri asked, taking an effort to keep her tone of voice and facial expression neutral.  Volyova caught the flash of emotion in Khouri’s dark eyes for just a moment, and her pale, angular face shifted to an opaque smile that Khouri suddenly did not feel good about at all.

“It’s simple,” Volyova said. “Strip.”

“What?!”  Khouri didn’t manage to keep the surprise from showing in her body language as she stiffened, her large eyes widening.  Her heart suddenly seemed to have taken up residence somewhere in her throat.

“I said, strip, Khouri,” Volyova repeated, more firmly, as though she were addressing an ill-trained dog reluctant to obey its handler’s commands.  “Take your clothes off.”  She waved her hand at her in a vaguely incredulous gesture.  “I assume I don’t need to give you instructions for such a simple task.”

“No, you don’t,” Khouri replied, more sharply than she intended.  She took a deep breath, trying to get her jangled nerves under control.  Volyova’s command was so unexpected that Khouri was momentarily stunned.

“Look, it isn’t as though I didn’t understand you…”  She trailed off, not sure what she should or could say.  

“Then there shouldn’t be any problem, no?” Volyova asked.  It wasn’t really a question.  Khouri hesitated, then slowly shook her head.  

“Good,” Volyova said.

Khouri’s mind raced, rapidly trying to process the shock.  Shit!  I never would have expected something like this.  Not from a woman…  Sure, I can see why a man might abuse his authority like this, but… 

Khouri had little in the way of embarrassment where nudity was concerned—military service in a mixed unit eliminated anything of the sort relatively early on.  “Shy” was not a word anyone who knew her would ever have used to describe her.  But there was a world of difference between soldiers showering and dressing in close quarters, and having to strip naked in front of Volyova, here in a place where she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed, while Volyova sat there and watched her.  Khouri felt her stomach drop with the realization of the only place this could be headed.

Come on!  Be rational, Khouri chided herself, immediately. As far as things I might have to do to maintain my cover, this isn’t even that bad.  Don’t be stupid.  

Volyova retrieved a cigarette and lighter from her pocket and lit it, inhaling slowly and exhaling the tendril of smoke in a thin stream.  “I’m waiting, Khouri,” she said softly.

I’d better just get on with it.  Khouri began to undo the straps of her uniform jacket, a prickling sensation creeping across her neck at Volyova’s intense and unwavering gaze.  The glossy black leather was tightly fitted around her torso when fully closed, and as soon as Khouri had undone all the straps it slackened and was easily dropped from her shoulders, as if weightless.  The jacket fell to the floor with little sound.  Beneath the jacket she wore a tight grey shirt.  It was plain grey fabric, without decoration, outlining every lean muscle in Khouri’s chest and abdomen.  Khouri peeled it off quickly, depositing it on the floor next to her jacket.  The air seemed even colder then, raising goosebumps on her arms, her nipples hardening in response to the sudden chill.  She strove to ignore it.

It’s just an automatic physical response, it doesn’t mean a damn thing! 

With slight difficulty, Khouri removed her boots, and found removing her pants was a clumsier affair, with nothing conveniently adjacent to keep balance.  Nevertheless, she managed to do it with a modicum of fluidity, the pinpoint orange light of Volyova’s cigarette momentarily gleaming in the reflective material.  Khouri stepped out of her pants, nudging them aside with her foot, and forced herself to stand at attention again, as though nothing was unusual and she was still wearing all her clothes.  

“All of it, Khouri,” Volyova said sharply, when Khouri didn’t move to take off her underwear. “Unless you have some sort of objection?”  There was a glint in her cold grey eyes, not of suspicion; something which seemed more dangerous.

“...no,” Khouri said quietly.  Any doubt about the Ultra woman’s true intent dissolved.  She’s… she’s really going to order me, to…     

<You’d better hurry up and do it,> the Mademoiselle’s voice cut in suddenly, unhelpfully. <Volyova will become suspicious if you hesitate too much.>  To Khouri’s perception, she had blinked into existence in the corner of the room, watching her and Volyova with the infuriating smug smile expression she often used.  Despite knowing Volyova couldn’t see the simulation’s image, Khouri always felt vaguely anxious when she appeared, some worry in the back of her mind that Volyova would somehow know anyway.  

<Believe it or not, I don’t need you to tell me that!  I know!> Khouri replied mentally, wanting to scream it at her.  She hoped it didn’t show on her face.  <Just go away!  The last fucking thing I need is you watching me do this—> 

<Well, this certainly isn’t the reaction I expected,> the Mademoiselle continued in an affronted tone, cutting off Khouri’s furious train of thought. <I don’t see what all the fuss is, dear.  Consider yourself lucky if this is the worst thing you have to do to accomplish your mission.> 

<Shut up, why don’t you?> Khouri thought angrily. <I know I have to do it, I’m not stupid!  But, it’s not so easy… I haven’t… well not with someone like Volyova…> 

There was a distinct pause as Khouri trailed off; she was skirting the issue, she knew, and then the Mademoiselle replied, <Ah, so that is the source of the problem.  You’ve never had sex with another woman, is that it?  So, you’re nervous.>

<No, I haven’t,> Khouri thought savagely.  There wasn’t any use trying to hide it from the Mademoiselle, but the admission was still humiliating.  <I haven’t exactly had a lot of sexual partners in the first place.  And I never even thought about it with a woman…> 

The Mademoiselle replaced her smile with a thoughtful look.  <Really?  Never?  Well, you’ll find it isn’t so different, or so difficult, dear.  You’re overthinking it.  Just do what comes naturally.>  The digital ghost laughed then, a little chuckle Khouri hadn’t heard before but instantly hated.  <Relax and try to enjoy it, it’ll make it easier,> she added. 

<Fuck off!> Khouri snapped internally.  It took concentration for her to avoid shouting it aloud. <Easy for you to say.  You don’t have to do it!>

<Oh very well, if you insist, I will leave,> the Mademoiselle sniffed.  Khouri was about to take a last parting shot at the simulation, but when her eyes again flicked to the corner of the room, the woman’s ghost had already vanished.  

Some help you were, she thought bitterly. Well.  I don’t know what I expected.  

Khouri cleared her throat and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her plain black underwear, sliding them down as gracefully as she could manage, her eyes downcast.  She could feel her cheeks burning and cursed inwardly, hoping Volyova wouldn’t notice, and shifted nervously, unsure how to stand now.  Standing at attention, as she had been doing before, suddenly seemed stupid, so she attempted to adopt a relaxed posture, putting her hands behind her back so Volyova wouldn’t see them trembling.

What’s the use, I’m sure she can already tell I’m nervous… Fuck, I never thought something like this would happen to me.  I don’t know how to act.

Volyova, of course, had already seen Khouri naked, when she initially examined her right after she had been “recruited.”  But that had been a merely clinical process, and of little interest to her at the time.  To now see Khouri standing in front of her like this… that was a different matter entirely.  Her skin was darker than Volyova’s near-translucency, a warm honey color, now tinted red with a blush that covered her cheeks and crept down her neck onto her chest.  Her body was muscular but very lean, as expected of a former soldier.  She had only the suggestion of curves, with her small breasts and only slight widening of the hips, her overall silhouette otherwise very much hard lines.  She had obviously kept herself in the same shape after leaving military service.

“Mm, very good,” Volyova murmured, tapping one long finger to the side of her face thoughtfully.  Khouri was distinctly aware of the way Volyova raked her shadowy grey eyes over her body now, slowly and analytically, as though Khouri was a particularly intriguing weapon Volyova was preparing to take apart. It was entirely possible, perhaps even probable, that Volyova regarded Khouri in a manner not dissimilar to her beloved cache-weapons… a piece of her property in which she took great pride.  

Volyova licked her lips subtly, drinking in the sight of her.  It was so much more satisfying to have someone strong like Khouri under her thrall than if she had been some weak wisp of a thing.  Like a caged lioness, Khouri’s strength was obvious, but here she was captive, her wild and dangerous nature tamed by force of will.  Volyova felt a rush of arousal, anticipation making her heart beat faster.  And all mine, to do with whatever I please. 

Khouri felt her face heating up even more at the look of open desire in Volyova’s ashen eyes and was overwhelmed with the sudden, extremely absurd urge to try and cover herself.  She resisted doing so only with conscious effort, feeling ridiculous.

What the hell is wrong with me?!  Why do I feel so weird about this?!

“I never took you for the type to want… something like this,” Khouri said, trying to shove down her self-consciousness by saying something.  Why can’t I make myself say it openly?  I know what she wants, I know what she’s going to do.

Volyova laughed quietly, a scratchy sound, mirthless.  It felt like claws slowly dragging down the back of Khouri’s neck, and she shuddered involuntarily.  Volyova took another long drag of her cigarette and slowly exhaled, the wisps of smoke briefly obscuring her face.  The thin smile she gave Khouri was so openly predatory it made her shiver.

“Then I suppose you don’t know me very well,” Volyova said. “Not to worry.  I’ve no doubt you and I will become… very close.”  With her free hand, she beckoned Khouri closer. “Now, come here.”

Khouri obeyed.  She felt as though she had swallowed a block of ice, but her body also felt too warm, her heartbeat stuttering against her ribs as though she’d just come out of combat.  Her body and mind warred between the overwhelming desire to break and run, or to fight, and neither was an option.  Neither even made sense, if she could be fully logical about it.  She fought to keep her emotions, or at least the outward indication of them, rigidly controlled, but couldn’t entirely manage it.

I don’t understand this, it’s just sex, I should count myself lucky she’s not making me do worse—it’s fine, it’s fucking fine, so why am I—

“You’re nervous, Khouri,” Volyova commented, raising a thin, flawless eyebrow in an apparent, but wholly unconvincing, show of surprise, unable to resist another opportunity to make her squirm. “There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I’m not!” Khouri protested a little too forcefully to be convincing.  She cursed inwardly, at a loss as to how she could have lost her composure so quickly.  Volyova hasn’t even done anything yet, why do I feel like this?  

She took a deep breath, trying to force a semblance of calm.  “I’m not afraid,” she repeated, more calmly than she felt.  She wanted to cover it up with some kind of excuse, reaching desperately for some reason she could give to Volyova that would explain it all away conveniently, but realized with a rising sense of panic that she couldn’t come up with anything.

Except, of course, the truth, but telling Volyova that was an even less appealing option.  

Volyova hummed with obvious satisfaction as she took one last inhale on her cigarette and extinguished it with the tips of her fingers, dropping it into a small receptacle off to her side.  The fact that Khouri had obeyed her, in spite of her initial hesitation, was the clearest indication she could have asked for that the loyalty therapies were working as she had hoped.  It seemed quite unlikely Khouri would have obeyed otherwise, especially without any genuine argument.  It was equally evident that Khouri had in no way expected it, had not even anticipated the possibility that Volyova would tell her to do something like this.  Volyova felt another flush of arousal as she looked into Khouri’s large, dark eyes, shimmering with trepidation and the barest residual whisper of anger.  

Fuck, I just want to take her apart, Volyova thought hungrily. I want to use her, I want her to feel completely helpless.

Volyova stood, crossing the remaining distance between them.  Volyova towered over Khouri, like all the Ultras, Khouri only coming up to her chest.  Khouri, for all her strength, looked so vulnerable now, naked with the waves of anxiety practically radiating from her.  Volyova smiled again as she threaded her long, bony fingers through Khouri’s jet-black hair, barely longer than her own close-cropped cut.  Khouri managed not to flinch away from the touch, but Volyova still noticed the involuntary shiver that replaced it.

Yes… I want her to understand who owns her.

“Don’t be afraid,” Volyova repeated in a husky voice that did not assuage Khouri’s anxiety in the slightest. “You’ll enjoy it,” she added, which seemed less like a reassurance than an additional command.

“I don’t—I don’t know—” Khouri stammered, before she could stop herself. “I haven’t—I mean, I have, but not… not like this... ” She cleared her throat, her mouth going dry. “Not, not with…”   

“Be quiet,” Volyova said. “That’s enough talking.  I have a better use for your mouth.”  Khouri fell silent.  Volyova hadn’t raised her voice, but there was something in her tone that brooked no argument, and this time Khouri knew without a shadow of doubt what Volyova was going to say next. 

Volyova’s smile broke into a grin that showed her teeth.  “On your knees, Khouri.”

Khouri swallowed hard, a sudden flush of heat rising on her face.  “All right,” she answered softly.  She kneeled on the hard floor, resting her hands on her thighs, and looked up at the Ultra woman, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it all the way to her fingertips. 

“Very good,” Volyova said, and reached down between her legs and manipulated something in the fabric of her uniform pants that Khouri couldn’t properly see.  With astonishing fluidity, the fabric of Volyova’s uniform shifted and moved, retreating from the center and apparently folding itself up beneath the rest of the fabric.  Khouri couldn’t help but watch, fascinated, until it had entirely retreated.  Volyova’s uniform was fairly similar to Khouri’s—tight, shiny black leather adorned with straps and shiny silvery accents, but Volyova had more ornamentation, and Volyova’s boots reached up over her knees.  And obviously, it had shape changing capability Khouri’s lacked.  The edges of the silhouette were sharper, though this was partly because of Volyova’s thin, angular build.  The overall impression was of an officer’s military dress uniform constructed from the carapace of a scorpion.

Volyova raised one leg, resting it on an offensively plush footstool next to Khouri, leaving her slit exposed fully to view.  Khouri licked her lips unconsciously, unable to take her eyes off Volyova.  The Ultra woman had no trace of pubic hair, not even the suggestion of hair follicles which would still be present if she shaved, so the skin had the appearance of almost unnatural smoothness, highlighted further by how pale she was.  Volyova stood out among the other Ultras on the ship for her lack of extensive cybernetic modifications, but she had that strange, otherworldly perfection common to them all.  Distinctly unnatural, too beautiful to seem truly human.

“Don’t just stare at it, Khouri,” Volyova ordered, speaking softly, but with authority. “You ought to know what to do.  Lick me.  And do a good job of it, I won’t accept anything less than your full effort, understand?”

Khouri nodded, hands trembling.  “Yes, Triumvir, I understand,” she replied.  The words tasted strange in her mouth, but she fought to put everything aside, to focus on what Volyova was ordering her to do.  

How hard could it be?  I mean, I’ve had it done to me…  But it had been so long since anyone had touched her at all, she struggled to even remember how it had felt.  Sex had never exactly been the top of her priority list, and after the separation from her husband, it had become something she just told herself she could do without.  Not the type to seek out someone for a quick fling, she had tried to put such things aside.  She switched off the need for it, or so she told herself, making do on her own when the need became too great to ignore.    

She leaned in, closing her eyes, her breath catching in her throat as Volyova’s scent filled her nostrils—so close to her, it was sharp and intense, the smell of cigarettes, and the intimate smell of her arousal; so entirely unlike Khouri’s own scent, with an almost metallic tinge.  Khouri shivered involuntarily as she extended her tongue and gave a slow, experimental lick, reasoning that starting slow was the safest approach.  Volyova made a very small sound, an intake of breath that was not quite a gasp, and Khouri took it as a positive sign.  She licked her again, still not applying very much pressure, feeling Volyova’s slit under her tongue—warm, the skin smooth and already faintly slick with Volyova’s fluids—bitter, but with a strange sweetness, not at all what she had expected.  But then again, she had never even tasted her own fluids before… Is this what all women taste like, or just her? she wondered suddenly.

Curious in spite of herself, Khouri shifted her head a little lower, licking slowly right at Volyova’s entrance, her tongue spreading her open a little with each lick.  The taste was stronger, and the flesh felt so hot and slick on her tongue, entirely unlike anything she had ever experienced.  Khouri lapped at her more, steady licks one after another, very conscious of the need to bring her full attention to the unfamiliar task.  Volyova was making soft sounds now, little sighs and uneven breaths and not quite moans, and Khouri began to lick a little more firmly and shifted to licking the entire length of her slit again, and again, keeping the movement carefully controlled but making sure to keep her tongue moving the whole time.  She was encouraged by the way Volyova’s breathing was becoming faster, heavier, in spite of how quiet she was otherwise, and could feel Volyova’s body occasionally shiver with pleasure against her tongue as she licked her, the slick fluids now steadily dripping into her mouth and onto her cheeks.  It was all she could taste, and wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as she feared.  In fact…    

She tastes… good… she’s getting wetter… I must be doing something right.   

“Hahh… nh…” Volyova’s hands settled on the back of Khouri’s head, fingers pressing against her and pulling her closer in—Khouri picked up the pace more, Volyova was noticeably panting now, her breathing uneven with soft moans slipping from her as Khouri shifted where she was licking.  Khouri flicked her tongue a little faster over Volyova’s clit, shivering at the sounds the Ultra woman was making, somehow she didn’t have to force herself to keep going, wanting to keep her tongue moving without having to think about it.  Volyova took a handful of Khouri’s hair—it was just barely long enough for Volyova to get a good hold on it, her nails digging into her scalp—using it as leverage to force Khouri’s mouth onto her more completely, holding her head firmly between her legs.  Khouri made a muffled sound, opening her mouth wider and licking faster in response.

I feel strange… I feel so… hot…?  I don’t know… I can’t think straight…   

“Ahh, ah—” Volyova’s moans were louder now, she kept a firm grasp on Khouri’s head to keep her in place, and Khouri found herself moaning against her at the sting of her hair being pulled, the taste of Volyova’s fluids dripping steadily into her mouth… it was difficult to breathe properly with her face trapped between Volyova’s legs, pressed so hard against her, and she sucked in deep, ragged breaths where she could, the sound of her heavy breathing mingled with the wet sounds of her tongue.   

She sounds so hot… and she’s so wet now, it tastes so good… is this really what it’s like?  It’s so different…   

“Hnn… ah, ahh, good, Khouri…” Volyova gasped, and the sound of her moaning Khouri’s name was like an electric shock, drawing a shaky muffled moan from her, making her tremble, with a corresponding pulse of heat between her legs she couldn’t ignore.  She tensed her entire body, all thought momentarily interrupted by that singular sensation and the realization it forced upon her.  It was no longer something she could put down to anything but arousal.  Confusion mingled with something close to panic as she fought to sort out an explanation from her racing thoughts, but it was like trying to identify stars while flying past them at near-light speed.

—shit, fuck, how is this happening to me, hey fucking listen Mademoiselle I don’t think your countermeasures worked, help me, you were supposed to help me!—but maybe it’s not that at all?—but how is that possible—

—she struggled to concentrate on what she was doing, faltering as her thoughts chased round and round in a loop; her tongue stilled for a moment, and then Volyova yanked hard on her hair, drawing a startled muffled moan from her, the brief burst of pain producing a corresponding sizzle of pleasure that was that much of a further shock—

—oh god that felt good—?!

“Don’t you dare stop, Khouri,” Volyova hissed, the edge of anger in her voice somewhat undercut by how breathless she still sounded.  “Unless you want things to become unpleasant for you, you don’t stop until I’ve finished with you, understand?”

Khouri shuddered with a muffled groan, her body seemed to respond to Volyova’s threat in precisely the opposite way that it ought to have.  She tried to nod, though she could scarcely move her head with how hard Volyova was holding onto her hair, and returned to licking her with a redoubled enthusiasm.  Volyova’s moans were harsher, broken up once in a while by words that were clearly Russish curses, which Khouri didn’t understand, and some words Khouri understood perfectly well—

“—fuck—ahh, faster, faster, now—”

Khouri obeyed, trapping Volyova’s clit carefully between her lips and moving her tongue ceaselessly back and forth, she seemed to have gotten the hang of the correct movements, she could feel Volyova’s thighs tensing hard on either side of her head, the weight of Volyova’s body halfway slumped over above her, she had to be close, just a little more… 

“Ah—!—nnh—!”

Volyova came with a harsh, shuddering gasp, almost like a growl, gripping Khouri’s hair so hard that tears sprang to her eyes.  Khouri moaned against her, kept licking as fast as she could as Volyova rode out the orgasm for many seconds, bent almost double above Khouri and trembling with irregular little shocks. 

“Hahh… nnh…”

Finally Volyova released her, staggering back slightly, and Khouri pulled back with deep gulps of air, panting heavily with exertion.  Volyova’s juices were smeared all over her face, little droplets of excess dripping down onto her chest.

There’s so much… fuck, it’s all over me…  

Hesitantly, she reached down between her legs, fearing to confirm what she already knew perfectly well.  She gasped as her fingers brushed against her slit, feeling the wetness and heat that had been building and was now a persistent need.  She jerked her hand away as though it had been bitten, staring at the thin strands of fluid that still clung to her fingertips.

Oh fuck, I’m wet like this just from licking her… I can’t believe it.  I didn’t think I really… 

Volyova reached down and grabbed Khouri’s wrist, startling her—she tried, reflexively, to pull her hand away, but Volyova held firm.  Her grip was not hard enough to cause any particular discomfort, but it more than sufficed to demonstrate to Khouri who was in control.

“Not so hard after all, is it?” Volyova said.  Despite the obvious intensity of her orgasm only a few moments before, Khouri could see in the woman’s eyes that she was not yet satiated, that predatory desire no less prominent than before.  If anything, it seemed more potent now, as though coming once had only turned Volyova on more.  I don’t think she’s done with me yet… not by a long shot.  

“Did you think I was finished with you?” Volyova asked, as though she’d read Khouri’s thoughts.  She released Khouri’s wrist and pointed to the lavish couch occupying the opposite wall. “Over there, now.”  Khouri scrambled to her feet, her legs quivering, and walked to the couch.

Following behind her, as Khouri turned to sit, Volyova grabbed Khouri’s shoulders and shoved her down—Khouri lost her balance immediately, falling on her back onto the couch with a gasp.  Despite the thinness of her limbs, Volyova was stronger than she appeared.

I’ve never felt anything like this before, never, Khouri thought frantically. I’m not… submissive like this…!  And yet, with the Triumvir pinning her down, looming over her, that desire she didn’t want to accept was all the more inescapable. 

Volyova smirked, a little breathy chuckle escaping her lips as she knelt on the edge of the couch and looked down at Khouri. 

“You want this, Khouri,” she said, leaning down until their faces were so close Khouri could feel the warmth of her breath.  “I can see it written all over your face.”

“Ilia…” Khouri breathed, her large eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at Volyova. “Ilia, I…”  It felt so natural to say, and only distantly she wondered if it was the first time she’d called her by her first name.  Volyova never called her anything but “Khouri”. 

Volyova’s grin widened. So the loyalty therapies have had this much of an effect on her already?  They never had this sort of an effect on her predecessor, even if I’d had any interest in him.  But one thing is very clear…   

“You want me,” Volyova said, triumphantly.  She let go of one shoulder, caressing the side of Khouri’s face, holding onto her chin, forcing her to keep looking up at her. “That’s the truth of it, isn’t that right?”

“I…” Khouri struggled to put together a sentence, her mind a tumultuous mess of arousal and confusion.  I was never like this with anyone before… was I?  I… I can’t remember…  “I don’t know, damn it, I can’t think…”  An admission, a fragment of the truth, but more than that, a desperate attempt to obfuscate the real truth of Volyova’s words.

“Don’t try to deny it, Khouri,” Volyova purred, letting go of Khouri’s face, her long bony fingers caressing her neck, down to her chest, her ribs, and lower, and Khouri felt her breath coming faster, the pulse of insistent need growing louder in her mind.  

“Even if you try to pretend otherwise…”  Volyova roughly pushed Khouri’s legs apart with her knee and her long fingers brushed against Khouri’s slit, so wet her juices were slowly trickling onto the couch beneath her.

“Ah—!” Khouri arched her back unthinkingly as Volyova’s fingers slid over her wet slit, even the light touch felt better than anything she could remember in years—

“—your body tells me everything,” Volyova finished, her fingers sliding down to dip, ever so slightly, inside, feeling the wetness and heat waiting, and Khouri whimpered, lifting her arms from the couch to grasp for Volyova, trying to pull her closer.

“Ilia…” Khouri mumbled again, shivering, shutting her eyes as though that would make any of it easier, any of it less confusing, her blood roaring in her ears.  Volyova wasn’t really moving her fingers, rather just letting them rest against her, just short of slipping inside her. “Nh…”

“You’re so wet, and I’ve barely touched you,” said Volyova softly, sliding her fingers up to rest on Khouri’s clit instead, slick with Khouri’s own fluids.  “Just admit it already.”  

Khouri shuddered, automatically arching her hips up toward Volyova’s hand, her body trying to get closer, no matter what she might have wanted it to do.  Volyova sighed with clear satisfaction, beginning to move her fingers in slow circles over Khouri’s clit—Khouri shivered with a delicious, breathy little moan, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, but even then, Volyova could see the fear that still managed to cut through her dizzying desire, the disbelief of her half-open mouth and fevered gasps.

“Ah—ah, ah—Ilia…”  Volyova kept her movement slow and light, never quite ramping up the way she knew Khouri wanted her to, and with each passing moment that she teased her, she could see the shredded fragments of Khouri’s self-control wither away bit by bit, unable to stand up to the flood of desire she had unleashed in her.  I wonder how long it’s been since anyone else touched her? Volyova wondered. The way she’s reacting to this… probably a very long time. 

“I’m waiting,” Volyova prompted again, and Khouri whimpered, still straining to get closer to Volyova, to get more pressure, more friction.

“Please…” Khouri breathed in a voice that felt less and less like it was truly her own. “Ilia, I’m…”

Volyova laughed cruelly, a sharp, hacking sort of sound. “Please what, Khouri?”  she asked. “What do you want me to do?  You’d better tell me.”  

Khouri wanted to scream, she wanted to deny it, but it no longer mattered what she wanted.  Or what she thought she wanted.  All that mattered now was how much she needed—she needed—

“Please, Ilia…” she whispered, her voice hoarse, like it didn’t want to allow her to speak at all. Her body felt like it was burning up, the smallest touch from Volyova was like electricity coursing through her. “I want… you.”  Even as she got the words out, Khouri reeled in disbelief, it was true, and there was no escaping it, no possible way to pretend she didn’t want Ilia Volyova more than anything in the world.    

I can’t believe it… I can’t believe how much I want this…   

Volyova grinned, her eyes hooded with obvious enjoyment as she let her fingers slip ever so slightly inside Khouri, feeling the wetness and heat that welcomed her touch, even allowing a few slow, shallow thrusts, just enough for Khouri to feel that hint of what she was not yet being given.  

“Nh, ah…p, please…” Khouri gasped.  

She’s so desperate, Volyova thought, flush with further inflamed desire, exhilarated with power. I’m close to breaking her… if I push her just a bit further… 

“Go on then, beg for it,” Volyova said. “Prove to me how much you want it.  Say it.”  I want to make her say it, I want to hear her voice break when she admits it to me.

Khouri whimpered, a little broken sort of sound she could hardly believe she was even capable of making.  “Ilia, I can’t… aah, hah… I can’t stand it…” she gasped. “More, touch me more… please…”

“That’s better,” Volyova purred, punctuating the word by sliding her fingers up and down over Khouri’s clit with the slightest increase in pressure, enough to feel the slick, heated flesh throbbing at her touch, drawing a desperate whine from Khouri. “Keep talking, Khouri… Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

Khouri shivered at Volyova’s light touch, the need so overwhelming it physically ached, every minute motion of Volyova’s fingers sending renewed sparks of pleasure that only inflamed her more.  She couldn’t remember ever wanting anything so much before in her life.

“Please… fuck me,” Khouri mumbled, and she could feel her face burning, a flush washing over her skin all the way down to her neck. “I want…”  A deep breath, like a diver preparing to plunge into the depths of the ocean.  There was some kind of precipice looming ahead of her and she could see the darkness beyond, helpless to do anything but leap over the edge, entirely outside of her control.  “Ilia please… I want your fingers inside me, I need it…”

Volyova grinned. “You had better be ready to take it, Khouri.”

The void seemed to open up and swallow her, as Volyova finally slid her fingers all the way inside, Khouri moaning shakily deep in her throat as her body welcomed them, pleasure washing over her as they sank in down to the knuckles.

Fuck, it feels so good!

“A-ahh—!—nhh—!”  Volyova’s long fingers reached much deeper inside her than her own fingers could, rubbing against a sensitive spot Khouri didn’t even realize existed—she moaned more loudly as Volyova began shallowly thrusting, her fingertips pressing and rubbing against that deep-inside spot that sent waves of pleasure through her whole body.

Has it ever felt this good before?  Fuck, it’s been so long… I can’t remember… I don’t remember…!  The subjective years it had been since Khouri had felt anyone’s touch but her own felt like another lifetime ago now, a distant memory, as though the pleasure of Volyova’s touch was erasing anything that had come before it.

“Nnnh—fuck, Ilia!—ah, ahh, th-that feels so good—” she gasped, a string of moans and words falling from her lips without thought, spreading her legs wider, trying to get Volyova’s fingers as deep inside her as they could go. “Ah… haah, fuck…!”  

“That’s it, Khouri… give in, give yourself over to me,” Volyova murmured, beginning to steadily slide her fingers in and out, feeling the way Khouri’s body twitched, her shaky moaning with each still-unhurried thrust.      

“Ah—ah, Ilia—yes—fuck, yes—”

“You’d do anything to keep feeling this, wouldn’t you?” Volyova said, punctuating her question with a harder thrust of her fingers, relishing how she could get such a response out of Khouri with the simplest movements.    

“Y-yes—anything—” Khouri answered breathily, “ahh, haahn, please—”

What am I saying? I can’t think, I can’t think about anything but how good this feels… 

Volyova laughed softly, thrusting her fingers more rapidly now, feeling the way Khouri’s muscles clenched harder each time she plunged her fingers inside.  Khouri’s juices soaked her fingers, dripped down her hand onto the floor, the wet sounds audible even over Khouri’s moans.  “My property, my possession,” Volyova continued, speaking so softly. “You belong to me, Khouri.”

“I—I—ahh, ahh, Ilia—hnn—” 

“You belong to me,” Volyova repeated, even softer, nearly a whisper. “Not to anyone else, not even to yourself.  You were mine from the moment I decided to bring you aboard this ship.  I can do anything I like to you, and you know it.”

“Ah—ah—!—nngh, Ilia, it feels, s-so good—yes—”

“You could probably stop me right now, if you wanted to,” Volyova continued, breathing hard, “but we both know you wouldn’t even think of trying, because you want this more than anything.”  Fucking her faster now, and Volyova was so wet again, a long strand of viscous fluid dripping from her pussy onto Khouri’s leg. 

“Ilia, Ilia—I can’t, I can’t help it, ah-ahh—” Khouri moaned, clinging to Volyova’s shoulders, hard enough to feel the muscles flexing even through the fabric of her uniform. “Fuck, nh—”

“Who knew you could be so shameless?” Volyova teased, pausing in her thrusting long enough to add another finger, stretching Khouri further—as she worked the third finger inside, Khouri whimpered, gripping Volyova’s uniform jacket so hard her knuckles were white. 

“Nngh, aahh-hh—fuck—”

“I will ruin you, Khouri,” Volyova purred, giving Khouri only moments to adjust to the stretch before she was fucking her again, hard and fast, all the way down to the knuckles with each thrust.  Khouri shuddered beneath her, the words seeming to affect her almost as much as Volyova’s fingers. “I will take you apart and remake you to my liking… a good little plaything.”  Volyova seemed to be getting carried away herself, her words coming almost stream-of-consciousness, so absorbed was she in what she was doing.

Khouri made a wordless sound that was somewhere between another moan and something that might’ve been an attempt at denial, but it died in her throat under the onslaught of Volyova’s fingers—hitting that deep-inside spot over and over, the palm of her hand pressing against her clit and Khouri could feel the pleasure ramping up and building, the heat coalescing inside in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

“Ah—ah, ah, Ilia, Ilia I’m, nnh—I’m close—” 

I don’t think I was like this, before, not with anyone… I never said stuff like this, I didn’t really talk in bed at all… right?  Fuck, I can’t remember!

“Look at me, Khouri,” Volyova commanded softly, certain from the repeated clenching down of Khouri’s muscles how close she was.  Khouri’s scent filled the room now, she was so wet it could hardly be otherwise, and Volyova loved it; a softer, more mellow smell than her own.

Breathing so fast she was almost hyperventilating, Khouri finally did open her eyes, irresistibly compelled by Volyova’s voice. 

She’s fucking beautiful… 

“H-harder, Ilia, please, hhhahh, I’m going to… nnh?” Khouri moaned, and then, terribly, Volyova slowed down her thrusts, still moving her fingers but so slowly it was torture compared with how fast she had been fucking her only a moment ago.  Khouri’s moans dropped to a whine instead, she could feel herself close to that edge, and it was as though Volyova had grabbed her and pulled her back before she could fall.

“Iliaaaaa…” Khouri whimpered, “Please, I’m so close…”  But even as she pleaded with her, Volyova’s thrusts slowed to complete stillness and she slipped her fingers out, grinning at the long sticky strands of her fluids that clung to them and dripped onto Khouri’s legs. 

“Ilia—wait, wait, please don’t stop,” Khouri begged, frantic. “Please—put them back in, please—” 

Volyova held her soaked hand in front of Khouri’s face, interrupting her stream of desperate pleading.  “Clean it off,” Volyova ordered.

Khouri practically lunged for her hand, tears escaping the corners of her eyes, she was so close, all she could think about was wanting Volyova to fuck her again, to drive her over that edge, her pussy throbbed almost painfully, so sensitive, the sudden absence of Volyova’s fingers more terrible than she had thought possible.  She sucked and licked at Volyova’s fingers hungrily, moaning softly at the unfamiliar taste of her own fluids—quite different from Volyova, a milder, ever so slightly more bitter taste.  When Volyova pulled her hand away Khouri unconsciously leaned to follow, breathing rapidly.

“Please, Ilia… please, I’ll do anything…” Khouri said brokenly.   

Volyova smirked, caressing the side of Khouri’s face in a manner that would have seemed affectionate coming from anyone else. That desperation… it’s so delicious, Volyova thought, gazing down at Khouri as though to etch the expression on her face deeply into her memory. I think she means it… or thinks she does.  Perhaps she’s not yet aware of just what telling me she’d do anything will mean for her.  

“I have something better in mind than my fingers,” Volyova said. “Now wait here.  And don’t even think of finishing yourself off, understand?”  Khouri nodded mutely without thinking about it, watching as Volyova climbed off the couch.  She walked over to a set of ornate cabinets against the opposite wall and retrieved something from a drawer.

It was a nearly featureless, whitish tube, the surface perfectly smooth with a satiny sheen.  From one end dangled a dense fringe of long shimmery filaments, translucent like a jellyfish’s tentacles.  Given the tube shape, the object’s purpose was apparent to Khouri, but then what were the filaments for?  

She got her answer as Volyova positioned the filament-covered end of the object over her pubic bone and pressed it firmly down.  Almost too quickly to see, the filaments extended and grew, shrinking in size even as they did so, appearing to vanish into Volyova’s skin with a disturbing squelch.  Volyova flinched minutely, then let go of it a moment later and the tube remained anchored in place as though it were simply another body part.  Immediately afterwards, the tube began to elongate and become thicker, shifting organically, and in short order it looked like a natural human penis, perfectly matched with Volyova’s skin tone, though it lacked testicles.  Evidently, Volyova considered them superfluous.  The entire process had taken no more than perhaps 30 seconds.

Khouri gaped, shocked by its lifelike realism.   

“Ilia,” she murmured, wonderingly. “That’s… is that what I think it is?”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” said Volyova, as if discussing a favorite weapon. “Looks just like a real one.”  She gave her new artificial cock a little stroke, and shivered appreciatively at the odd, but pleasurable sensation. “And works like a real one.”  She was obviously proud of it, and Khouri assumed she must have crafted it herself.

In terms of functioning, the device was elegantly simple.  Some of the device’s thin filaments held it in place by attaching solidly to the muscle fibers at the front of Volyova’s pelvis, but the majority were dedicated to sensation transfer, by tunneling more deeply into the tissue to connect directly with her genital nerve endings.  It did not quite create sensations identical to that which someone with a true organic cock would be experiencing, but instead, transferred the sensory inputs it received to stimulate her nerves in the most equivalent manner possible.      

“You’re fortunate, Khouri,” Volyova said as she climbed onto the couch, kneeling in front of Khouri. “You get to help me give this a proper test… I couldn’t do more than preliminary experiments with it by myself.” 

Khouri swallowed hard, finding it difficult to articulate a reply.  She was trembling visibly, the need so overwhelming it almost hurt, her body now slipping, in the absence of continued sensation, backwards from the edge into a state of frantic desire stronger even than it had been before Volyova touched her.  Volyova gave her artificial cock a couple of even strokes, making a soft sound at the unusual feeling.  As Khouri watched, a viscous, perfectly clear fluid oozed steadily from the tip, covering the shaft with a little help from Volyova’s hand.  She grabbed Khouri’s thighs, yanking her closer.

“Ilia…” 

Volyova positioned her cock at Khouri’s entrance, the tip rubbing against her, and Khouri let out a shaky moan—it was hot, and hard, just as soft as skin, she could even feel Volyova’s pulse in it.  It really did feel exactly like a real cock. 

“Nhh, fuck, fuck that feels…” Khouri panted, a palpable throb pulsing from where Volyova’s cock rested against her, radiating through the sensitized flesh.  She groped for better words to describe it, but voiced instead her immediate thoughts.  “It’s just like a man’s.  It’s… it’s warm…”

“Quite convincing,” Volyova said with a smug smile. “Mmm, and you’re so wet, it feels good against you…”  She paused, rubbing her cock slowly up and down over Khouri’s slit, a movement that seemed experimental more than anything else, feeling out the sensation of her new attachment.  Khouri whimpered, straining closer, trying to get her inside, but Volyova’s grip on her legs was too strong.  She could only rub the tip against her pussy, the friction felt good, but it wasn’t what she needed, it wasn’t enough… 

“Iliaaaa…” Khouri whimpered. “Please…”  

Volyova hummed approvingly, pleased by Khouri’s obvious desperation. “I know how badly you want this,” Volyova said, “so, come on, I want to hear it.  Beg, Khouri.”

“Fuck, damn it, Ilia,” said Khouri, “I need it, I can’t take anymore, just put it in me already…”

“That’s it… so obedient,” Volyova murmured, beginning to push her cock inside, a little pleasurable shiver running through her as the wet heat surrounded the head of her cock, the muscles throbbing around it, like it was trying to pull her in further.

“Ah, ahh—yes, yes, god yes, please Ilia,” Khouri moaned, little more than a stream of consciousness. “All of it, I want all of it…”  

Volyova laughed softly. “That’s it, Khouri… nhh, this is what you really wanted, isn’t it?  For me to actually fuck you myself.”

“Nhh… yes… ah, ah-ahh, fuck,” Khouri whimpered, still struggling to get closer, trying to get Volyova’s cock deeper inside. “Fuck me already, Ilia please, don’t make me wait anymore!”  She was too far gone to even realize she had never before in her life been this way with anyone.  That realization that she was never this vocal in bed, and certainly never begged to be fucked, seemed far away now, like it had happened to a totally different person.   

“Very good.” Volyova grinned and jerked Khouri towards her, shoving her cock the rest of the way inside with a soft groan.

“Ah-ahh—!  Oh fuck, Ilia, ngh, it’s big…!” Khouri writhed as Volyova finally sheathed herself fully inside her.  Even after having stretched Khouri up to three fingers, the cock was thicker than that, and longer too.  Though she hadn’t exactly gotten out a measuring tape, Khouri was certain it was bigger than any real one she’d ever had.  It stretched and filled her deliciously, the faint sting of the stretch gradually dissipating into a pleasurable ache, hot and throbbing inside her.    

It’s so big inside me… fuck, it feels amazing… 

“Nhh… oh, that’s good,” Volyova said breathily, shuddering with pleasure at the novel sensation. “Even after I fucked you so hard with my fingers, you’re still tight.”  Had Khouri done anything to her normally, without the attachment, she would have come almost instantly; she was so wound up from the mess she’d made of Khouri.  Instead, there was a sensation of slick heat surrounding her clit, both from the outside, and deeper inside her body, the artificial cock making use of those nerves comprising the branching internal structure of the clit.  It was diffused, but intense in an entirely different way.

And as she began to thrust in and out of Khouri, that feeling spiked in rolling waves, the strokes of her cock inside Khouri manifesting as a sort of oscillating set of peaks in pleasurable sensation, spreading from her clit inward and outward, deeper into the tissue reaching nerves normally not accessible from the outside. 

“Iliaaaaa—ah—!” Khouri moaned, Volyova’s fingers had felt so good but her cock was much more overwhelming, so big and hard it rubbed against every sensitive spot inside with each thrust. “F-fuck, ahhhn—more—ah—”

Volyova roughly yanked one of Khouri’s legs upward, pulling it against her chest. 

“Nh—!” Khouri made a startled sound, which shifted to a moan as the movement drove Volyova’s cock more deeply inside her, sparks flashing in the corners of her eyes.  Volyova’s moans were almost drowned out by Khouri’s cries, her voice softer, more muted, but still audible.  

“Hah, nnh—”

“S-so deep—ahh—it feels so good—” Khouri gasped. “Ngh, fuck me—”

Volyova leaned down further, pushing Khouri’s leg down as she went so Khouri was bent almost double below her, fucking her bruisingly hard.  Khouri looked up at her—the Ultra woman’s brow was slightly knit, as if she were concentrating, a faint sheen of sweat on her pale, pale skin, and Khouri found herself reaching towards her, wrapping her arms around Volyova’s shoulders and clinging onto her. 

“Ah, I can, haah, feel your cunt squeezing down on me,” Volyova murmured, breathing hard with exertion from the steady, hard thrusts, bracing herself on Khouri’s body for leverage. “Ngh, you love, being used—”  

“Haah, ahh—Ilia—yes, yes—” 

Unlike the usual limitations of a biological cock, the artificial cock simply stayed hard for as long as it remained attached to the wearer, with no apparent decline in function… at least in Volyova’s initial tests.  She was determined to test its possible limitations thoroughly, unable to keep from analyzing it even as she felt it drawing her closer to coming.  It felt like a more gradual escalation than she was used to, a slowly rising tide, but it was no less enjoyable for it.

“Ilia, Ilia—ah—touch me, ah, please, ahh—” Khouri had lost all sense of anything outside of her body, the ecstasy driving out any possibility of conscious thought.

Volyova growled breathily, pinning Khouri to the couch, and though Khouri hadn’t been specific, Volyova had the idea, and was so absorbed in fucking her she decided to give Khouri what she wanted.  Volyova reached between their bodies with one hand, resting her long thin fingers over Khouri’s clit and rubbing back and forth, the movement of her thrusts aiding her motions up and down, fingers gliding slick and wet—

“A-ahh—yes, fuck, Ilia—!”

Volyova was getting close herself—being inside Khouri and fucking her like this was entirely different from any other kind of pleasure she’d felt before, her nerves firing off in a consistent rhythm with her thrusts, and Volyova could feel it building, climbing inexorably higher and higher… 

“Nhh, come on—”

“Yes, fuck, yes—ah—”

—Volyova was fucking her so hard Khouri could feel the bones of her hips impacting her with each thrust, and she thrashed beneath her, so breathless her moans were like the frantic gasps of someone drowning, being pulled irresistably toward her own climax—  

“Ilia I’m—I’m going to—ahh, don’t stop—!”

“Do it, Khouri—”

—Khouri came hard with a high whine that drained her utterly of breath, her muscles squeezing down on Volyova’s cock in powerful spasms so hard it was difficult for her to keep thrusting, Volyova’s fingers never stopped moving over her clit, it was almost too much, but Khouri couldn’t squirm out of reach and couldn’t stop her, only moaning helplessly as the orgasm overwhelmed her, clinging to her as though her life depended on it.  Her vision whited out, all other sensation overridden by the intensity of her climax.  

“Ah—hnn—!” Volyova came only moments afterwards, dug her nails so hard into Khouri’s leg it left stinging crescent-shaped indentations, hissed harshly through her teeth, her body snapping rigidly.  There was no ejaculation, but Khouri could still feel Volyova’s cock twitching inside her as she squeezed down on it, the twitching carrying through to Volyova’s hips pressed against her own.

“Hahh…nh…” Volyova stayed inside Khouri, shuddering as the residual tremors went through her body, echoed still by Khouri’s twitching and trembling aftermath.  Volyova finally disentangled herself and pulled out of Khouri when her spasms had dwindled to a stop.

Khouri fell back onto the couch as soon as Volyova moved off her, chest heaving with exertion.  It felt as though all her bones had been replaced with gelatin.  Volyova was faster to catch her breath, and sat up with a sigh that seemed contented.  She retrieved a cigarette from her pocket and lit it with a little satisfied hum.  She took a long drag off her cigarette and exhaled slowly, savoring it, the smoke gradually encircling her and drifting outward.  Khouri tried to summon the energy to lift her head, but even that was too much.  Her head hurt in a way that reminded her strangely of post-combat fatigue.  

“Shit,” said Khouri, her voice hoarse.  She cleared her throat.  “Fuck.”  Her mind was hazy, swirling with the dreamlike fragments of thought like someone abruptly roused from reefersleep.  What was that?  I’ve never come like that before…   

She tried to think, to rack her memory for how things had been with her past partners, but any particular memory was conspicuously absent.  She instead recalled only that those past experiences had been unremarkable, certainly incomparable to what Volyova had just done to her.  The lack of detail in her recollection should have been concerning, but it was hardly critically important information. 

“I never knew anything could feel like that,” Khouri whispered, more to herself than Volyova.

“I told you that you’d enjoy it,” Volyova replied matter-of-factly, not without a touch of pride.  A kind of disorientated exhaustion was plainly visible on Khouri’s face, an apparent internal crisis of which Volyova could only see a fraction.

So, I didn’t go so overboard with the loyalty therapies that she’s lost her sense of self, she thought.  Perfect.  She blew smoke out in a thin stream which slowly coiled around her, obscuring her view before it spread out.  I don’t want to break her so much she forgets I’m what made her this way.

Khouri watched the tendrils of smoke drift away from Volyova and above her, snaking upward to the low ceiling.  Her eyes fell closed, the exhaustion catching rapidly up with her.  She heard Volyova get up, heard mechanical sounds, the operation of the Spider-Room’s controls.  There was a vague sensation of movement. Ilia must be taking us back to the ship… how long have we been in here?  I want to put my clothes back on, but I’m so tired…   

“So you’re… done with me?” Khouri asked, as the sensation of motion ceased several minutes later, the Spider-Room safely ensconced back inside the ship.  It felt like a stupid way to ask, but she couldn’t think of any other way to put it.  She heard Volyova’s footsteps and opened her eyes to see her already at the door.  Volyova regarded her cooly, almost disinterestedly. 

“Yes.  For now,” Volyova said, and then she went through the door, and was gone.

Khouri stared up at the ceiling.  The Spider-Room’s quiet emptiness, Volyova’s absence, had her thoughts rushing back into her head.  That icy feeling returned.

Fuck, I don’t even know what came over me… I’ve never felt like that before… it has to be the loyalty therapies, she made me feel that way… 

The idea was still hard to accept, but she was more and more certain it had to be at least partially true.  The Mademoiselle’s warning about the loyalty therapies had only suggested it would be a problem because an enforced loyalty to Volyova might prevent completion of her mission whenever the critical time came.  It had never occurred to Khouri that what Volyova would do would go this far.  That it was even possible for Volyova to manipulate her mind to this degree… perhaps she had greatly underestimated the sophistication of Ultra technology.     

...But what if it isn’t only the loyalty therapies?  

Even supposing the Mademoiselle’s countermeasures weren’t working at all, could the therapies alone really explain how she’d been so aroused from licking Volyova?  How she’d wanted it so much once Volyova actually started touching her, how good it had felt?     

What if it really is… something I wanted, but didn’t know until she… made me?  Is it just because no one else had touched me in so long?  Was I really that desperate for it?  

The way she had begged Volyova for more without hesitation, hanging on her every word… how she had coaxed such filthy words from her so easily…  The irrefutable evidence was etched into the ache between her legs, the sticky mess soaking slowly into the couch.

No, there’s no way… it couldn’t be… 

She shifted uncomfortably, unable to keep from thinking about the last thing Volyova had said before she left.  “For now.”  Her stomach twisted with a kind of fearful anticipation.

What else is she going to do to me?

She sighed, running a frustrated hand through her disheveled hair, sticky to her scalp with half-dried sweat.  Neither explanation was comforting in the slightest, and in fact both possibilities made her feel worse in their own ways.  What am I going to do? 

<Mademoiselle?  Care to tell me what’s going on here?  Tell me the truth, have you really been able to counter those loyalty therapies or not?> she ventured.  

But there was no response.

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Contact Binary