The local pleasure control office was as modern, sterile, and secure as the chastity device Kristen had been fitted with on her nineteenth birthday.

That had been six weeks ago now, long enough for her to get intimately acquainted with the infuriatingly well-engineered piece of steel.

The front panel, which blocked access to her clit, curved outward in the middle just enough to make it impossible for her to grind against the inside. The panel of mesh under her vagina allowed her to spray enough water into the device to clean herself, with the help of a moveable shower head, but it disrupted the flow of the water jets, so that they wouldn’t reach her skin with any consistent, enjoyable pressure. The chains that held the whole thing in place around her lower back and the insides of her hip joints were exactly as tight as they could be, without cutting off her circulation. Too tight, in other words, for her to slide a finger or anything useful inside.

The Bureau had thought of everything.

The office itself was less familiar to her. Without any medical or mechanical complications that would require the Bureau’s attention, she hadn’t been able to come up with an excuse to return since her fitting.

This was the first chance she’d had to sneak away from home and come in by herself.

Already, she’d been guided through five separate keycard-protected doors and an elevator just to reach what she hoped was the right waiting room.

Every seat was full, but the other occupants avoided eye contact and conversation, which suited Kristen fine. They could all collectively pretend that they hadn’t seen each other here.

Finally, a pleasure control officer read Kristen’s name off her tablet, and escorted her down yet another hallway.

The officer was a woman only five or six years older than Kristen herself, and like her colleagues, she was dressed in a fine knit fabric in a uniform shade of gray. In her case, it took the form of a knee-length dress, with her ID card clipped over her heart as its only adornment.

Officer Deacon, it said.

Modern fashion was generally loose or rigid around the hips to conceal the bureau-issued devices, but the clingy knit fabric showed the outline of Officer Deacon’s openly. It made her all the more intimidating, the constant reminder that everything she did, she did in the same confinement as Kristen. She walked and sat as if she hardly noticed it, exuding an effortless discipline that made any complaint of Kristen’s feel foolish before she tried to make it.

Officer Deacon tapped her ID card to the wall of the bare-looking hallway, opening a hidden sliding door to another room that was, thankfully, private.

In the exact center of its blank white walls was a steel table with two chairs positioned across from each other.

Officer Deacon took one and motioned Kristen to the other.

“So, I see this is your first follow-up appointment,” Officer Deacon said, checking her tablet again. “How has your adjustment been going?”

Kristen looked down at her hands as she prepared her answer, but she had already spent too long looking at the officer to avoid picturing her, no matter where she looked.

It might have been her confinement playing tricks on her, but Kristen was fairly sure Officer Deacon was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She had the combination of sharp jaw and full, soft-looking mouth that Kristen had always liked, left perfectly obvious under a close, neat pixie cut. Her angular glasses slightly magnified her already intense gaze, and her breasts moved freely under her dress, small enough not to require support but still quite pronounced.

“About as well as could be expected, I think,” said Kristen.

“No withdrawal symptoms?” Officer Deacon asked.

Kristen bit her lip and didn’t point out that the officer was making assumptions about her behavior before the device, assumptions that directly contradicted the Bureau’s public stance.

Officially, the bureau waited until a citizen turned nineteen before regulating their sexual stimulation out of a good-faith belief that people were nonsexual anyway up until that point. Imposing regulation earlier would only force young people to think about things that were none of their business yet, they said.

Kristen suspected that it was really to make sure you had a chance to find out what you were missing, first.

Before her birthday, she had been in the habit of rubbing out a quick natural sleeping pill before bed. It had taken her three nights to get tired enough to fall asleep without.

“It’s… it’s been difficult,” Kristen admitted, shifting in her chair. Shifting in the device.

“And now you’re here,” said Officer Deacon. “Why, exactly?”

“Because…” Kristen skirted the main point. “Because you’re called the Bureau of Pleasure Control. Not the Bureau of Pleasure Eradication. So, I wanted to ask for some more information on how exactly all this is supposed to work. Nobody really explained much at the locking ceremony. What am I supposed to do? Are there rules? Is there a schedule for how often I’m allowed out?”

“Out?” Officer Deacon repeated, with a little laugh that Kristen hoped very much was only meant to scare her. “You’re getting awfully ahead of yourself.”

Kristen wasn’t sure why else the officer thought she’d come here, but she didn’t dare say so. She let herself blush, shrug, and grin in a compliant, self-deprecating way. “Like I said, I’m new.”

“Nobody mentioned the point system?” Officer Deacon asked her.

“Sort of,” Kristen acknowledged, putting her hand to the device’s built-in score counter on her hip. “It measures my restraint against my peers?” She repeated the spiel she’d been given.

“Yes,” said Officer Deacon, in a tone that said she was only half right. “And this is where you can turn in your points for rewards.”

“Turn in…” Kristen repeated, holding her hand protectively over the counter.

Every interview and application process she’d been through while trying to figure out the next stage of her life had involved a verification of her score. She wasn’t sure how many points she could spare.

But then, if she didn’t get out of this thing soon, if only for a couple minutes, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more applications anyway.

“Okay, so, how much does an orgasm cost?” Kristen asked, hoping her bluntness wouldn’t count against her if she softened it with another embarrassed smile.

Officer Deacon smiled back at her, not at all embarrassed herself.

“That depends on you,” she answered. “Stimulation costs one point per stroke, per location. Vibration is extra. It’s your responsibility to budget accordingly. I recommend making sure you have a good buffer saved up before you begin. There’s no refund if you’re unable to achieve the results you’re looking for.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Kristen blurted out.

She’d been cooped up long enough that if she could just touch herself, or be touched, she was pretty sure it would be over almost as soon as it started.

Officer Deacon’s smile widened. “Then by all means, what can we do for you today?”

“I’d like…” Kristen pulled down the waistband of her jeans to check her total, even though she knew it by heart. Two hundred and twelve. “I’d like ten strokes, please.”

“Only ten?” Officer Deacon asked, taking a note on her tablet. “Because—”

“Ten,” Kristen repeated firmly, enjoying the confidence that came with finally understanding the rules.

“Where and how would you like them?”

“Across my clit,” said Kristen. “Moderate pressure.”

“No penetration?” Officer Deacon verified. “No nipple stimulation or other personal erogenous zones?”

“I am on a budget,” Kristen joked. “Let’s go straight for efficiency.”

“As you wish.”

The officer entered a few more commands into the tablet, removed her ID card clip from her dress, and tapped it to the sensor at the front of Kristen’s device.

There was a click, and the hair on Kristen’s arms stood up as she anticipated the glorious feeling of the metal chastity device opening and falling around her ankles.

Instead, a tiny hole opened in it, just above the compartment that guarded her clit. It was too small to squeeze even her smallest finger into.

With a few more taps of the officer’s tablet, a panel opened in the blank-looking wall behind her. Kristen had only a few seconds to absorb the array of differently-shaped toy attachments inside before the officer pulled out a sterile-looking paper envelope and closed the panel again.

She tore open the end of the envelope and pulled out a plastic wand. It was rigid enough to hold its shape, with a softer layer around the outside, and a hard base with a complex series of ridges.

Without stopping to explain, the officer inserted the wand through the hole until its base clicked into place in the device.

The tip of it brushed past the hood of Kristen’s clit and came to rest right alongside it.

At the first hint of contact in weeks, Kristen felt a tingling rush of blood to the already tender area.

“Enjoy,” Officer Deacon told her, with an encouraging gesture.

She showed no sign of leaving the room, or of allowing Kristen to do so.

A little self-consciously, Kristen shifted her hips inside the device again. This time, instead of grinding helplessly against the empty dome, she was able to slide her clit along the slick, narrow surface of the wand.

“Oh my god,” Kristen gasped, gripping the edge of the desk.

“Is it calibrated all right for you?” Officer Deacon asked sweetly.

Kristen gave a wordless, noncommittal moan, ecstatic but unable to make any clear assessments beyond the fact that she was being touched.

The wand bowed slightly away from her as she rubbed against it, marking each stroke she took with a soft, mechanical tick.

It was delicious, but unfamiliar, not lending itself to the tried-and-true strategy of her fingers. Between that, and the strangeness of being watched in the act, even by someone as alluring as the officer, Kristen hadn’t gotten very far by the time she’d already counted seven ticking strokes.

She lowered her gaze to the clinging top of the officer’s dress, embracing the strangeness of her presence, hoping to boost herself over the finish line. The material was thin enough that Kristen could make out the hexagonal outlines of the officer’s pleasure-proof, tamper-evident pasties, just like the ones Kristen was wearing herself.

Eight.

Muscles tensed and spasmed deep in Kristen’s pelvis.

Nine.

She wanted to request just a little more firmness, but if she stopped long enough to say the words now, she definitely wouldn’t make it.

Ten.

She was so close. Just one more would have done it, but with the tenth tick, the wand gave way and folded itself out of reach, leaving her pulsing clit straining at the empty air again.

“Ten more,” Kristen gasped. “Please.”

That wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. Her score wouldn’t look quite so impressive once it dipped below two hundred, but it wouldn’t be terrible.

“Of course,” said Officer Deacon. “We’ll just have to go over a little housekeeping for this transaction before processing the next one.”

Kristen’s eyes widened involuntarily, and the officer’s smile tightened, acknowledging her disappointed pleading without acquiescing to it.

“So, that’ll be ten points for the strokes, plus two for the processing fee, and a fine of fifty points each for interrupting a Bureau officer and failing to answer a direct question from a Bureau officer. That brings you to… an even one hundred points remaining.”

With a few more commands on her tablet and a tap of her keycard against Kristen’s device, she set the counter back accordingly.

Kristen swallowed, her stomach churning with panic at the heavy blow to her score, but knowing better than to argue.

The fines had been due to her own carelessness, after all. She would learn better for next time. She was going to be an expert point budgeter yet, a shoo-in for every opportunity, who could afford vibration on demand. Someday.

Officer Deacon read her face effortlessly.

“I assume you have at least been taught the purpose of the point system, and indeed the Bureau itself?” she asked.

“Yes, officer,” said Kristen.

“What is it?”

“To ensure restraint, respect, and discipline among the population,” Kristen responded instantly.

“And you assumed those values would not be rigorously enforced within our own offices?” Officer Deacon asked.

“I…” Kristen struggled to construct a less automatic response, over the urgent aching of her vulva. “If I did, that was my error, officer.”

Officer Deacon studied her for an agonizingly long moment.

“I’m only fining you twenty-five for that one,” she said, finally. “That was just about half of an answer.”

Another tablet tap and card tap took Kristen’s hard-earned score down to seventy-five.

“Thank you for your mercy,” Kristen forced herself to say. It was the safest thing to say to a pleasure control officer, especially when you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Now,” said Officer Deacon, perfectly friendly and accommodating again. “Did you still want to add another ten strokes?”

Kristen scrambled to calculate another prompt answer.

She really couldn’t afford to let her score drop any lower, but the thought of trying to walk out of the building now, still pent-up and distracted, with no relief to show for all she’d spent, was almost unbearable.

Officer Deacon’s gaze was hardening again with each second of silence. She had to make a decision.

“Actually, could we make it twenty? No, thirty,” Kristen decided.

Better to make sure this batch counted than to end up needing yet another.

“Of course,” said Officer Deacon.

She entered something on her tablet, and the wand inside Kristen’s device raised itself back into its usable position.

With difficulty, Kristen waited for the officer’s nod before rubbing herself against it again.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Kristen rocked her hips, sliding her clit back and forth along the wand, side to side over the top of it, around in circles, squeezing every ounce of pleasure she could out of each movement.

The wand did not fail to count a single one.

Nine, Kristen couldn’t help counting too. Ten, eleven.

“Were you looking at my breasts, earlier?” Officer Deacon asked, matter-of-factly.

“Wha…” Kristen panted. “I…. Yes, I did,” she admitted.

“This isn’t slowing you down, is it?” the officer asked. “Talking about my breasts?”

“No,” said Kristen.

Officer Deacon winced very slightly, seemingly on Kristen’s behalf. “I’m afraid that’s going to be another fifty-point fine for lying,” she said.

Kristen managed not to whimper, barely.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not your breasts, or you…”

Fifteen

“It’s the conversation…”

Sixteen

“That I’m not so used to.”

Seventeen.

“You should stop now if you’re going to afford that fine,” said Officer Deacon. “Tell you what, if you stop by the next stroke, I’ll pretend that’s all you asked for, and we can call your score even at zero. You won’t have to go into debt.”

Kristen’s hips rocked again, seeming to have a mind of their own.

Eighteen.

“You don’t even know the procedure for debt, do you?” the officer asked.

Kristen didn’t. But the wand hadn’t collapsed yet, and it was just so hard to resist.

Nineteen.

The officer’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two.

If she could just finish by thirty, she could face the consequences with a clear head.

“When you were looking at me, what were you thinking?” Officer Deacon asked.

“I was thinking how lucky I was to have someone just my type to look at for this,” Kristen answered.

She wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say, but it was an answer, and it was the truth.

“And now?” Officer Deacon asked.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

“What about now?” Kristen moaned, her focus splintering again.

Officer Deacon smiled innocently as the wand gave way, leaving Kristen still on the edge.

This time there was definitely whimpering.

“Do you still think I’m your type?” Officer Deacon asked.

Kristen rested her head against the desk, hollow and overwrought and wondering if she might cry. If so, she meant to maintain just enough dignity to not let the officer see.

“I think you’re terrifying,” she said.

“That brings your debt to sixty-two points,” said the officer. “Because that wasn’t an answer.”

#

“Your situation is not wholly uncommon,” Officer Deacon told Kristen, with her tone balanced precisely between stern and assuring. “As a public service, we do of course provide ways for guests to earn points. Otherwise we would either have to detain you indefinitely, or let you operate in the world with a negative total, which would undermine the whole system. We will get you back in the positive. However, you shouldn’t expect the same exchange rate you would receive for every day, proactive displays of discipline, like completing homework or choosing a smaller meal. What you’re doing now is more like visiting a pawn shop outside a casino. You will be paying for the convenience, and for the fact that there’s not much else you can do about it. Understood?”

“Yes, of course,” Kristen agreed.

“Good.”

Officer Deacon placed the tablet on the steel table as she scrolled through a document on it. Upside-down, Kristen could just see that it was a list of acts and point values.

“I’m going to have you perform in a reminder video,” said the officer.

Kristen’s stomach cramped with apprehension. “You mean like the ones mixed into all the commercial breaks?”

“Exactly. Is there a problem?”

Kristen hurried to answer with both honesty and respect.

“I’ll do whatever you say. But given the choice, I’d prefer to pay my debt privately.”

“Are you ashamed to be seen serving the Bureau’s cause?” asked Officer Deacon.

“No, it’s just, I still live with my parents. I don’t want them to have to see me like that.”

“I can limit the video’s use to regions other than this one. Would that make it easier for you to throw yourself into the work?”

“Yes, please,” Kristen answered. It wouldn’t eliminate the possibility that the video would come back to haunt her, but it was more mercy than she’d expected, and she didn’t want to press her luck. “Thank you, officer.”

Officer Deacon was busy with some quick math.

“So,” she said after a moment, “that’ll be forty points for the public service of performing in the video itself, minus ten for limiting the region, so we’ll just have to pick thirty-two points worth of punishment for you to submit to on camera as an example to others.”

She turned the tablet around on the table so that Kristen could read from the list under that heading, “Debt Recovery Punishments.”

Kristen skimmed them nervously, skipping past the ones she didn’t understand, and the ones that would definitely mean staying here longer than she could get away with unnoticed. Things like spending hours in stocks, iron maidens, sensory deprivation tanks, or cleaning various rooms of the office building.

“If I choose one of the ones that last for days,” Kristen pointed to a section, “the ones involving smaller devices I could walk around with, would I have to stay in custody until I’ve earned out the debt?”

“No,” answered Officer Deacon. “You’d be free to go about your life and stop here once a day for maintenance and monitoring. However, you’re required to submit to at least ten points worth of punishment on camera for the video, not counting the installation of any multi-day devices. Since the public won’t be able to watch you serve your full sentence with those.”

Kristen nodded, swallowed, and reexamined some of the more direct options.

Flogging, one point per ten strokes.

Paddling (basic), one point per five strokes.

Caning, one point per stroke.

She had never been subjected to any of these things before, but she knew by reputation which was supposed to be toughest, and the point values backed it up.

“Would you…” Kristen asked hesitantly. “Would you be the one administering these?”

“Yes,” Officer Deacon answered simply. “Are you under the impression that that will make them easier on you?”

Kristen shook her head. “No.”

Cautiously, she tapped her selections on the menu, hoping she knew her pain tolerance and endurance well enough to strike a balance.

Officer Deacon looked over the list again and nodded. “Sensible choices. Remove your clothes and get on your knees, facing the wall behind you.”

Kristen complied, focusing on each button of her shirt, the zipper of her jeans, trying not to make these moments of anticipation any worse for herself than she had to. The next part was going to be hard enough.

Officer Deacon opened another wall panel, revealing a monitor with a camera mounted above it. With a tap of her tablet, she activated the setup, so that the monitor showed a live image of Kristen kneeling on the floor, naked except for her chastity device and pleasure-proof pasties.

She lowered her head, hoping it looked like a posture of respect instead of what it was: an attempt to hide her face and her breasts, which were larger and less self-supporting than the officer’s, behind her long hair.

“Keep your eyes on the screen,” Officer Deacon warned her.

Kristen looked up as text began to scroll across the image of herself.

She realized just in time that it was acting as a teleprompter.

“I was completely out of control today,” Kristen read aloud. “I wasted over two hundred points in one sitting, and then sixty more than didn’t belong to me, because I’m a weak, undisciplined girl who couldn’t help myself.”

Kristen’s voice quavered slightly as she thought of how proud she’d been of those two hundred hard-earned points just this morning, but she managed to keep up with the scroll of the text.

“Left to govern myself, I would be a useless slave to my urges. I know my restraint will improve with training, but I also know that my inexperience is no excuse for my willful self-indulgence. I knew the rules, and I broke them. I beg the Bureau’s charitable attention, to correct my flaws and redeem me.”

The text ran out, leaving her shame-filled face unobscured on the screen again.

“Well done,” Officer Deacon told her softly. “You got it right in one. Now remove your pasties.”

The officer handed Kristen a bottle of hand sanitizer to help dissolve the pasties’ adhesive. As they were designed to, they turned from beige to red before releasing, to tell on anyone who tried to remove them without permission.

Officer Deacon dropped a packet of fresh ones on the floor in front of Kristen. “Explain these to the folks at home, while you’re putting them on,” she ordered.

“Uh, for my first atonement, I will be wearing electric pasties for the next three days,” said Kristen, holding up the packet to show the camera, before opening it. “These will deliver a mild electric shock to my nipples twenty times per day, at randomized intervals.”

She peeled off the backing and applied them, under Officer Deacon’s careful observation, so that the two close-set metal patches on each one lined up perfectly with each of her nipples.

“Explain how you plan to use them to improve your restraint,” said Officer Deacon.

“Well, I…” Kristen thought fast. “I think they’ll… they’ll serve as a valuable reminder to be always vigilant of my behavior. Because, you know, distractions can strike at any- holy shit!”

Kristen yelped involuntarily as the first jolt of current ran between each of the pairs of metal plates.

It hurt, like a sharp, targeted swat, but it also hardened each nipple, instantly and more completely than any amount of rubbing. Secondary jolts ran down her body in response, not electric but similar in sensation, making her clit harden inside its prison again.

Officer Deacon looked like she was drawing on a lot of her impressive personal discipline to refrain from laughing. Her hand hovered over her tablet, and Kristen was pretty sure the timing of that first shock hadn’t actually been random.

Officer Deacon waited a few seconds, possibly testing to see if Kristen would comment, or possibly just solidifying her own composure.

“Good enough,” she said, finally. “You may proceed. Get up and bend over the table, face to the camera.”

Kristen obeyed, laying her naked upper body on the cold steel surface.

The open back of her chastity device, which she usually appreciated, felt terribly exposing now. The chains around her back and upper thighs would provide her with no protection whatsoever from what was coming.

“Do you remember what implement you chose for the next phase of your punishment?” Officer Deacon asked her.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“The level three paddle.”

Officer Deacon retrieved the implement from behind another wall panel and dangled it in view of both Kristen and the camera.

It was a sturdy piece of wood wrapped in black leather, with a long comfort grip. Three large holes had been drilled through the middle of the paddle, no doubt to decrease its wind resistance and increase its maximum velocity.

Every half inch or so along the surface, the leather was secured to the wood with a hard, protruding steel rivet.

“How many strokes did we determine were necessary, again?” Officer Deacon asked.

“Twenty,” Kristen rasped through a suddenly dry throat.

Half a point for each one.

She gripped the edge of the table and closed her eyes, bracing herself.

“I’m going to let you take them in sets of ten,” said Officer Deacon. “With a short rest in between.”

“Thank you for your mercy,” Kristen recited, both automatically and sincerely.

“Count them out, starting from one,” the officer directed, walking around to stand behind Kristen.

She let Kristen feel the studded leather brush her bare skin once before winding up and swinging.

The slap was deafening. The force drove Kristen’s hips and the front panel of her device hard into the near edge of the table, which she only now realized was bolted to the floor. The pain was so overwhelming that she almost forgot to say, “One.”

Kristen let go of any faint hope that this step might help reduce her arousal. In fact, that seemed to be the only sensation that the pain didn’t drown out.

During “two” and “three,” Kristen wasn’t sure how she’d survive as far as ten, let alone twenty.

By the time of “five,” she discovered that the counting task had become automatic, so she was able to check out and grit her way through by naming flowers in her head, the way she usually did with anything painful.

When it was time to say “ten,” she said it a little triumphantly, her pride in her point-earning abilities returning.

Officer Deacon brought her a little plastic cup of water while she caught her breath.

“For the next set, I won’t require you to count,” said the officer.

“Thank you for your mercy.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Officer Deacon. “Instead, for each stroke, you will give me a reason why you got yourself in debt. If you cannot give me a new reason within five seconds, you will receive another stroke with no point value.”

Kristen drank the rest of her water, to have something to do with her face other than show her uneasiness.

Ten whole different reasons, without lying?

Officer Deacon set the cup aside and returned to position behind Kristen.

“Do you understand what is expected of you?” she asked.

“Yes, officer,” said Kristen.

Slap.

“I… I was weak,” Kristen stuttered. She definitely couldn’t afford to check out now.

Slap.

“I couldn’t restrain my urges well enough.”

“The rest of your reasons had better be more different than those two,” Officer Deacon warned.

Slap.

“I didn’t have enough respect for the Bureau.”

Slap.

“I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Why weren’t you thinking straight?” Officer Deacon prompted.

Slap.

“I was desperate to cum.”

Slap.

“The wand felt so good.”

“Look at the camera,” said Officer Deacon.

Slap.

Kristen lifted her head and forced herself to confess into the dark glass lens. “I thought I could get away with it.”

Slap.

“I thought things couldn’t get much worse for me.”

Slap.

“I…” Kristen tried, but her mind was blank.

Slap.

“I don’t know!”

Slap.

“When the obvious runs out,” Officer Deacon whispered, “you have to go deeper.”

Slap.

“I thought I was special enough that I’d never end up like the videos,” Kristen blurted out, “because I’m always so good at anything with grades or scores!”

“What else?”

Slap.

“I knew there was a chance that this would happen, though. I was enjoying your attention, and I wanted more of it.”

There was silence after this last admission. Officer Deacon didn’t strike again. Nor did she move from her position or acknowledge that this was the tenth reason.

Kristen could only see her from neck to waist on the monitor. Her face was out of frame.

After a long while, Kristen twisted her upper body, almost instinctively, to try to look at the officer.

Another slap to her ass stopped her, a casual one, only at half force if that, but still loud.

“Don’t get up,” said Officer Deacon. “You’re not finished.”

I’ll say, thought Kristen, pressing her pubic bone hopelessly against the device’s front panel.

“Describe your third chosen method of atonement,” said Officer Deacon.

“It’s a level two anal plug,” Kristen told the camera. “Like the pasties, I will be wearing it for three days, with daily maintenance and inspection performed here.”

With another opening and closing of a wall compartment, Officer Deacon placed the plug on end on the table, near Kristen’s face, so that both she and the camera could get a good look at it while the officer applied a thin layer of lubricant.

It was more intimidating than Kristen had expected from its “level two” name. The bulge between its tip and its neck looked about an inch and a half across, and the black, rubbery surface was textured with a swirling pattern of ridges.

Next to it, Officer Deacon had set down another steel panel with attached chains, slightly different in curvature than the one Kristen kept trying and failing to grind against.

“While it goes in, explain why,” Officer Deacon directed, taking the plug and panel and returning to the back of the table.

“I accept this plug,” Kristen improvised, as Officer Deacon positioned the tip for insertion, “to… to teach me how generous my usual pleasure control regimen really is.”

Officer Deacon pushed firmly on the base of the plug, and Kristen fought the reflex to push against it.

“After a few days of more intense, uncomfortable urges,” Kristen paced her breathing carefully, “my everyday lust should be easier to ignore.”

With a final, painful stretch, Officer Deacon finished pushing the plug into place. There was a moment of relief as Kristen’s anus was allowed to shrink again around the smaller neck of the plug, with only the base sticking out. Still, the intruding object made its presence clearly known.

Kristen had known in theory that plugs made arousal harder to fight, but it was something else to feel the pressure on her internal nerve endings for herself, while being completely helpless to relieve it.

Officer Deacon placed the new steel plate over the base of the plug and attached the chains to the front plate of Kristen’s chastity device, running them around her hips and between her legs. The receptors along the edges of the front plate clicked as they accepted the new chains and shortened them to the perfect length, locking the back plate, and the plug, into place until an officer gave the command to release them.

“Say it,” said Officer Deacon.

Kristen didn’t have to ask for clarification. All the videos ended the same.

“Thank you for your mercy,” she said.

With a nod, Officer Deacon picked up her tablet and tapped to shut down the camera and monitor.

“Great,” she said with the friendliness she had started with. “So, assuming you remain compliant with your temporary devices, your account is balanced. Go ahead and get dressed, and we’ll get you on your way.”

Kristen propped herself up on her elbows, trying to prepare herself to walk back into the world.

Another jolt to her nipples, this one probably random, caused her muscles to clench around the plug, leaving every sexual nerve in her body unbearably active and hungry.

Officer Deacon watched her expectantly.

Kristen wanted so much to grab her and kiss her and rub whatever stretches of their skin against each other they possibly could.

She didn’t, of course. The officer was still basically a stranger to her who was doing her job, and she had no idea if she’d welcome the contact. No amount of teasing or deprivation could make Kristen ignore that.

It could make her take some pretty wild risks, though.

“I know this is reckless to ask,” said Kristen. “And maybe you’ll have to punish me for even bringing it up, but is there any way I could earn back enough points to actually use some today?”

Officer Deacon raised an eyebrow at her audacity, and the corner of her full, beautiful mouth twitched with amusement. “How would you imagine doing that?”

“What if I promised to leave the devices in even longer?” Kristen proposed.

“Those are debt-recovery punishments,” said Officer Deacon. “They’re only offered for those who need help getting up to zero.”

Kristen’s disappointment mixed heavily with her desperation. “So, there’s no way?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Officer Deacon. “We do have a few tasks for brave volunteers. But they’re experimental.”

Kristen listened, barely breathing.

With a shrug, Officer Deacon opened another wall compartment, this one full of medical supplies. She pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and retrieved a small, full syringe from a box of them.

“The Bureau is working to expand the very concept of pleasure control,” she explained. “This treatment, injected under your tongue, will make everything you put in your mouth taste like unflavored cornflakes for about a week. Or at least, that’s the design. You would be part of one of the first waves of human testing, so who knows what might happen?

Kristen eyed the syringe apprehensively, while her entire pelvis begged her to hurry.

“How many points would I get?” she asked.

“Twenty per week,” Officer Deacon replied. “First installment up front.”

“Twenty,” Kristen repeated, remembering how her attempt at spending thirty had gone.

“It would also mean that I’d become your case supervisor,” Officer Deacon added casually. “It would be my job to work with you each time you come in. Projects like these require consistency and follow through.”

Unable to force a more rational evaluation of the options, Kristen opened her mouth and lifted her tongue.

Slowly, giving Kristen every opportunity to change her mind, Officer Deacon uncapped the syringe, purged the air bubble, and administered the shot.

It stung sharply for a moment, and then a cool, tingling sensation spread throughout Kristen’s mouth. She could still feel where everything was, not like the dental shots that always made her bite her tongue or cheek and realize it hours later, but something had definitely changed.

“Is that it?” Kristen asked, still able to enunciate perfectly well. “The points are mine to spend?”

“Right after the first test,” said Officer Deacon.

She leaned down, bringing her face level with Kristen’s, where she was still leaning against the steel table.

For a split second, Kristen thought the officer might let her taste her mouth, and her dark lip gloss, just to show her how she couldn’t taste it, not really.

“Open,” said Officer Deacon.

Kristen did, and the officer popped a hard candy from the medical compartment into her mouth.

“What flavor is it?” Officer Deacon asked, and readied her tablet to write down the result.

“Lime,” Kristen answered.

“You can taste it?” Officer Deacon asked.

“No,” Kristen answered, moving it around her mouth with some consideration. “Only smell it.”

“Is it a pleasurable experience?”

“Not really,” said Kristen. “It’s like the taste is just out of reach. It makes me crave it more. It’s like… it’s like chastity, actually. For my mouth.”

Officer Deacon took her notes.

“Great. Now, did you want to apply the full twenty points to basic clitoral stimulation?”

“Yes,” said Kristen, swallowing the candy whole. “Please.”

“Return to your seat, then.”

Kristen did so, her legs slightly wobbly from adjustment and anticipation.

Officer Deacon entered the command on her tablet and tapped her keycard to Kristen’s device.

The wand raised itself back into reach.

Kristen rubbed her clit eagerly and immediately against it.

Tick.

Officer Deacon sat down across from her, observing closely without interfering.

With each backstroke Kristen took, the plug inside her pressed forward, recharging her nerves. There was no pause between types of stimulation.

Tick, tick, tick.

Before she even made it to five, Kristen came with a startled cry. Instead of a gradual lead-in followed by rhythmic waves of pleasure, all the waves seemed to crash through her nearly simultaneously, leaving her lightheaded and gasping against the edge of the table.

“You understand there’s no refund for early completion either,” said Officer Deacon.

Kristen moaned incoherently, and then remembered to say, “Yes, officer,” in case this counted as a question.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Officer Deacon, handing her the bundle of her clothes. “And the next day, and the next. I’ll ask you then if it was worth it.”

***

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