It was the third and final morning of Kristen’s debt recovery punishment.

She had not slept for more than an hour at a time since being fitted with the electric pasties, which shocked her nipples to a state of painful hardness at more or less random intervals. Her ass was sore from the near-constant presence of a sizeable anal plug, and she was even more restlessly horny now than she had been after six weeks of simple sexual deprivation.

At the end of today’s appointment, she would be allowed to remove the punishment devices, leaving only her basic chastity device and a fresh pair of plain, pleasure-proof pasties — something she had never imagined she could look forward to.

Officer Deacon was taking her time with the appointment. Kristen felt as if they’d been sitting on these hard folding chairs in their usual meeting room for at least an hour, with the locked back panel of her chastity device forcing the plug in especially deeply. Her pasties had punished her twice in that time.

Officer Deacon acknowledged this only with a faintly sympathetic nod before moving on with her checklist.

As uncomfortable as Kristen was, though, she could never completely wish for her time with Officer Deacon to end. The officer questioned her in a solicitous, nonjudgmental tone, even about her worst failures and transgressions. She listened attentively to the answers, eyes clear behind her angular glasses, soft lips occasionally pressing together against an impulse to laugh, or maybe even relate.

Aside from being stunning to look at, Officer Deacon had quickly become the only person in Kristen’s life who really knew how much she was struggling with the transition to adulthood under the Bureau’s management. She was the only one Kristen could really talk to about the desires and frustrations that dominated most of her thoughts.

The officer could turn on a dime at any moment, become the hardened disciplinarian her job required, but even in those moments, Kristen was as fascinated as she was intimidated. The authority this beautiful, twenty-something-year-old woman could wield, while wearing a clinging gray dress and a chastity device of her own, was something Kristen wanted to touch, bottle, take a bath in.

“Your discipline compliance is looking good,” said Officer Deacon, scrolling through the notes on her tablet. “No complications or irregularities at all. Let’s do your sensory test.”

The officer opened one of the wall panels behind her, pulled out a foil snack package, and set it on the bolted-down steel table between them.

“Open it,” she said.

Bracing herself to learn what sort of treat she would be taunted with today, Kristen peeled back the foil to find six Oreos inside.

“You monster,” she said, only half joking, but keeping her voice carefully light. She had been investigating the officer’s tolerance for sass and found a fair bit of slack, so long as nothing Kristen said technically broke any rules.

“Some are real,” Officer Deacon gave the usual explanation. “Some are unflavored textural imitations, stored with the real ones to absorb their fragrance. Sort them into two piles for me.”

Mechanically, Kristen nibbled the edge of each cookie and placed them in two stacks, completely at random. Under the influence of the experimental injection she had volunteered for, they were all equally flavorless to her, their decadent aroma an unsatisfying lie.

Officer Deacon took notes on her selections. “Are you experiencing any pleasure?”

“Still no,” Kristen answered.

The officer nodded and took another note. “Have you noticed any side effects since we administered the treatment?”

“Not unless you count vivid dreams about mashed potatoes,” said Kristen.

Officer Deacon finished up her notes and set the tablet aside for the moment.

“Was it worth it?” she asked, as she had at every follow-up appointment.

Kristen answered the same way she had each time. “For a release that didn’t even keep me comfortable for an hour? Probably not. To have you as my case manager? Yes.”

“You have dangerous taste,” the officer told her, with a shake of her head and a distinctly flattered smile.

Kristen was fairly sure that smile got bigger, less controlled, every time they had this conversation.

“At least I have some kind of taste left,” Kristen joked.

Officer Deacon wrestled her smile back into its cold customer service shape.

“Was there anything else you wanted my help with today?” she finally reached her usual closing question, picking up her tablet again.

Kristen stifled a sigh, aware of all the varied implements of pleasure stored neatly behind the blank wall panels, along with the implements of pain.

There was plenty she wanted help with.

She felt like she would have done almost anything for a bit of help touching her clit inside its steel prison, but that was how she’d ended up in debt in the first place — after blowing two hundred and twelve merit points.

Today, she had a grand total of eighteen points to her name, all of them awarded for undereating, which was more of a habit brought on by her chastened tongue than an act of self-restraint. Once the first week of the injection trial was over, she would have the option to extend it for more points, but that was currently her only prospect. Her low total and sleep-deprived state had made it impossible for her to find work while serving out her punishment.

“No, at least nothing I can afford,” Kristen answered with the required honesty. “Thank you.”

“All right, let’s get you back to your baseline configuration,” Officer Deacon directed, returning to the wall panel for a bottle of hand sanitizer and a fresh pair of pasties.

Kristen removed her clothes and gratefully accepted the bottle, to help her peel off the electric pair.

Just as she was working the edges off her skin, they went off again, drawing a startled cry of, “fuck!” from Kristen’s lips.

“Oh, sorry about that,” said Officer Deacon, fiddling with the control program on her tablet with an unapologetic smirk.

Kristen finished peeling them off in a painful hurry.

With another command of the officer’s fingers, the back panel of Kristen’s chastity device unlatched from the rest of the structure.

“Bend over the table,” Officer Deacon directed.

Kristen obeyed, so that the officer could circle around and, with gloved hands, extract the thick, rubbery plug.

The moment the plug left Kristen’s body was a punishment all its own, a blend of relief, re-bruising of her exhausted hole, and tingles of arousal she could do nothing about.

Officer Deacon gave her a cursory cleaning and then removed the gloves.

“Sit,” she said.

Kristen did so.

The officer lifted one of Kristen’s naked breasts in her smooth, ungloved hands.

Goosebumps broke out all down Kristen’s arms in response to the rare skin-to-skin contact, and she fought down the familiar urge to kiss Officer Deacon.

The officer was careful not to make any direct contact with Kristen’s fiercely hard nipple, as she pressed the first of the plain pasties into place.

“I did have another proposal for you,” Officer Deacon said casually, lifting Kristen’s other breast.

Kristen’s whole body clenched, preparing for anything it might possibly be. “What’s that, officer?”

Officer Deacon considered her words as she smoothed on the second pastie.

“Would it be accurate to say that you’re… discontent with your current level of control in this office? Perhaps in your life in general?”

Kristen froze as two of her most crucial survival skills — honesty and praising the Bureau — came into conflict.

“Yes,” she answered. “But that’s my problem to deal with, isn’t it? Like everyone else.”

“Not like everyone else,” Officer Deacon corrected. “People respond to Bureau control in many different ways.”

“Still, it’s not like I qualify for more control than I have, right?” Kristen asked, trying to keep any hope from creeping into her voice, or her mind.

She knew there were some people the Bureau trusted to govern their own pleasure, but they were an elite few, recognized for their exceptional contributions to discipline and restraint in the general population.

The officer smiled mysteriously. “Get dressed, and come with me.”

#

Officer Deacon led the way out into the hall, down a few room lengths, to another hidden sliding door, and into the room behind it.

The bolted-down table, two hard folding chairs, and nondescript wall panels that could hold any number of enforcement tools, were all the same as the meeting room they had just come from.

The only difference was that this one was already occupied.

The man in the visitor’s seat jerked his head nervously toward the door as Kristen and Officer Deacon entered. His eyes followed Kristen closely, sizing her up, guessing at the reason for her presence but not daring to ask.

He was dressed in a business suit, his hair recently cut into a stylish fade, a faint five o’clock shadow on his chin.

Kristen guessed he was in his late thirties, about twice her age. He’d probably spent her whole lifetime under Bureau monitoring.

She wasn’t sure if she was more comforted or disappointed to know that, through all the man’s extra experience, he still wasn’t at ease within the walls of this building.

“Ethan,” Officer Deacon read his name off her tablet. “What was it you were in for today?”

“Petitioning for medical mercy, officer,” Ethan replied, eyes still flicking back and forth between the officer and Kristen.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind my assistant helping me out with your appointment,” said Officer Deacon sweetly.

Ethan’s expression cleared slightly. “Not at all.”

His eyes performed another flick, not between the officer and Kristen, but up and down Kristen’s body.

Kristen recoiled reflexively.

Part of her was flattered, and a bit baffled, that someone would look at her that way while Officer Deacon was in the room, but it was hard to feel anything pleasant with her shoulders tensing up, preparing for danger.

“You’ve had negative experiences with male attention,” Officer Deacon diagnosed her at a glance.

Kristen let out a breath, trying not to laugh at how safe a guess this was. “Yes, officer.”

“A hefty handful of your own, some involving older men, and countless more passed on from other honest, well-meaning women in your life, hoping to save you by teaching you to hide,” Officer Deacon went on.

“Yes, officer.”

“Are you a lesbian by nature?” Officer Deacon asked neutrally, factually.

“No,” Kristen answered. “Bi, just… cautious.”

“Look at him,” Officer Deacon directed.

Kristen obeyed.

She and Ethan stared at each other in mutual awkwardness for several seconds. Catching onto the conversation, he kept his gaze fixed studiously above her neckline this time, while she surveyed the entirety of him.

Too old, said the well-established tufts of chest hair peeking through his partially unbuttoned shirt.

Too powerful, said the tailored lines of his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.

Too alien, said the mostly-hidden socks peeking out over his dress shoes, covered with images from a violent adult cartoon Kristen had never watched.

It seemed impossible that she could ever know someone like that well enough to trust in what he might do next.

“Look at where he’s sitting,” Officer Deacon said, with all the gentleness her direct, professional voice allowed. “Do you remember what it’s like to sit in the visitor’s chair?”

“Of course, officer,” Kristen answered.

She had been there not two minutes ago.

“In one word, what do you suppose he came here to do?” asked Officer Deacon.

Kristen hesitated to say it in front of Ethan, but the officer would not accept less than prompt, truthful answers.

“Beg,” said Kristen.

“I’d say that’s accurate,” Officer Deacon agreed. “Would you say that’s accurate, Ethan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a sheepish nod.

“Remove your clothes,” Officer Deacon told him.

“Now?” he asked, already unbuckling his belt to show that he was not resisting, only requesting verification.

“Your petition was going to require it soon enough,” said Officer Deacon. “I’m sure you don’t mind varying up your schedule slightly in order to support some necessary Bureau operations.”

“No, of course not, officer,” Ethan said quickly, peeling off his jacket and untying his shoes, rushing to strip off every piece of fabric.

When his pants came down, Kristen shut her eyes automatically, thinking about boys streaking through school shouting, “last call, ladies, drink up,” and about all the hand-drawn self-portraits of male genitals she’d been sent by older men, accompanied by messages like, “I can still make you look.”

Officer Deacon’s delicate fingers squeezed her shoulder.

“How dangerous does he look, right now?” she asked softly.

Reluctantly, Kristen opened her eyes to look Ethan over once more, sitting naked in the visitor’s seat.

Helpless, said the metal cage chained over his penis.

Desperate, said the flicker of his Adam’s apple, as he watched the two women in front of him, wondering at their plans for him.

Human, said the universal, stifled grunt of discomfort as he sat back down in the cold, hard chair.

His hair was only hair, the muscles only tissue, and whatever power he might hold out in the world, it obviously wasn’t enough to escape the governance of the Bureau.

The longer Kristen looked at him without anything horrible happening to her, the more she began to notice that he was actually rather handsome.

“Now,” Officer Deacon guided, “knowing what he came here for, what do you suppose my first question for him would be?”

Kristen thought for only a moment.

“What do you need mercy for?” she asked.

Officer Deacon smiled proudly and took a step back, signaling Kristen and Ethan to carry on as she observed.

“Well, uh,” Ethan looked awkwardly down at his chastity cage. “You can see how swollen I am… assistant?”

“Kristen,” Kristen told him automatically.

She examined his puffy pink testicles, hanging out of the bottom of the wire cage. Her familiarity with male anatomy wasn’t strong enough to know what swelling was or wasn’t normal, but they did look tender.

“Do you suspect infection?” she asked him. “Are you asking for an antibiotic, or an anti-inflammatory?”

“No, I don’t think that would help,” he answered with an awkward smile. “They just need a good emptying… Kristen.”

She was starting to regret not holding him to a more formal means of address.

“Why don’t you trade in some points for stimulation?” she asked, walking to the side where his merit point counter was visible on his belt.

It sat at precisely zero.

“Ah,” said Kristen. “How did that happen? Did you run out of points in the middle of an attempt?”

“No,” Ethan answered.

“You don’t look like you’ve been having any trouble finding high-value opportunities,” said Kristen.

“No,” Ethan acknowledged. “I had almost a thousand points saved up for this session. That’s from a month of sales service.”

“And what happened?”

Ethan glanced at Officer Deacon. She did not offer him the chance to answer to a smaller audience.

“The guys at work have a tradition,” he explained. “Every time one of us has a birthday, the others all pitch in half their total to buy him some real, unlocked human contact.”

“That’s expensive,” said Kristen. “But what happened to the other half of your almost-a-thousand points?”

“Okay, so, usually, the birthday boy brings his wife or girlfriend or what-have-you, and we go down to the Bureau office and get them both unlocked for a quickie.”

“And this time?”

“Well, a bunch of us happen to be single this year, random unrelated reasons, including Dave, the one whose birthday it was. So, instead of bringing a girlfriend, he arranged…”

Ethan’s gaze slipped to Officer Deacon again. Something about Kristen seemed to make him particularly uncomfortable talking about this.

Finding no escape, he pushed onward. “Do you know what a skin girl is?” he asked.

Kristen did know about skin girls and boys, in the abstract, but preferred not to do the talking on that subject.

“Why don’t you explain it in your own words?” she prompted Ethan.

“It’s… basically, they serve as the human contact for someone else’s unlocked time. They do it for points instead of pleasure in the moment, so they stay locked up while they’re working. Contact with free parts only.”

“And that was even more expensive than unlocking two halves of a couple at once?” Kristen guessed. “Did you each have to contribute more than usual?”

“Uh, not for that reason,” said Ethan. “But once we realized we were going to party with a skin girl, we kind of agreed to pool the rest of what we made for the month to buy a second session. Whoever earned the most would get unlocked to play with her. After Dave, of course.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Officer Deacon cut in, “is that you spent almost five hundred points on the pleasure of gambling, and now you regret it.”

“…Yes?” Ethan answered first, made excuses second. “It was expected. We all had to go in on it, or no one could. Plus, I already had an insurmountable lead.”

“But someone did surmount you,” Kristen pointed out. “Didn’t they?”

“Yes,” said Ethan.

“And that’s why you’re begging mercy,” said Kristen. “Because you made a bet without accounting for how you’d handle losing?”

“I wouldn’t normally be this bad off, even after a month,” Ethan explained, cradling his testicles. “It was thinking about that skin time, looking forward to it, it did something to me. That’s what I didn’t account for. And now I can’t sleep, I can’t work, I can barely think. I know, it’s probably what I deserve, but aren’t the mercy rules more about needing than deserving?”

Kristen stared at him, swallowing a lump of mingled disgust and understanding.

“Let him know what you think of that,” Officer Deacon prompted her.

Kristen dragged Ethan’s chair a short way from the table, crouched down between his legs, and reached for his tender pink pouch. She glanced at Officer Deacon for permission before taking it in her hand.

“Do you think these things excuse you from responsibility for your own budgeting?” she asked, pressing her thumb gently between his testicles to separate them.

“No, ma’am,” Ethan said, his throat audibly tightening in anticipation of pain.

Kristen noted how he’d dropped the use of her first name without being told.

“If I’d made the same mistake you did,” she said, “if I wasted all my points getting myself so worked up I couldn’t see straight, what do you think I’d do?”

“Probably tough it out like a badass, until you could earn some more,” Ethan answered.

“I’d have to,” said Kristen, squeezing slightly and dragging a gasp out of him. “But because your desperation dangles out of your body for the word to see, you think you can count on a safety net of pity. Does that seem fair to you?”

“No, ma’am.” Ethan cleared his throat, carefully testing the stability of his voice. Kristen could feel the movement in her hand. “But if you could show people how you feel, can you tell me you wouldn’t take advantage?”

Stumped for a retort, Kristen dropped his scrotum, letting it impact with the chair under its own weight as she stood up.

“You see the challenges the Bureau has to juggle,” Officer Deacon said to her. “So many considerations we can’t ignore, while needing to preserve the integrity of the work. Off the top of your head, how would you deal with this one?”

Kristen considered the man writhing in the chair for a moment, groaning from the slightest bump.

“I think we can’t just leave him like this,” she said. “But I also think there need to be consequences, severe enough that he can’t make a habit of screwing up.”

“I agree,” said Officer Deacon. “What about you, Ethan? Do you agree?”

“Yes, officer,” said Ethan, a wobble in his voice. “Thank you for your mercy, officer.”

“So,” Kristen turned to Officer Deacon. “Do we let him choose from the debt recovery punishments? Earn the points it’ll take to give him the draining he needs?”

Officer Deacon tapped her chin. “I think we’ll start by letting him stew on that a while longer.” She looked to Ethan. “You may use the restroom down the hall while you wait, but do not get dressed.”

#

Instead of their usual meeting room, Officer Deacon brought Kristen to an officers’ lounge to confer on the case.

Sitting across from her felt different in a more relaxed room, filled with armchairs, potted plants, and an imitation fireplace that put off real warmth. The officer even poured her a paper cup full of coffee, without deducting any points for the non-sustenance indulgence. The aroma and caffeine kick felt luxurious, even without taste.

“The Bureau actually gives us quite a bit of latitude in mercy cases,” Officer Deacon told her. She sounded more relaxed herself, almost as if she were talking to a friend. “We could punish him a thousand different ways. Or we could literally slap him on the wrist and let him cum all over the floor. Neither would cause us any serious trouble.”

Kristen sipped her coffee, imagining variations on both options, weighing them.

Officer Deacon leaned forward, watching her think.

“Your frustration is telling you to do one thing, your compassion another,” she said. “That’s normal. Those are both useful to tap into, but at the end of the day, what you do to him has to be about training the weakness out of him, so that he can fulfill his rightful role in society. That’s the standard our work will be judged by. The more we tailor our response to his specific transgression, the more effective we are a correcting it, the easier his life will be in the long run, and the more we’ll impress the higher-ups. And I’d very much like for you to impress them.”

“Is this an audition?” Kristen asked.

Officer Deacon smiled. “Why, yes, it is. You’re bold, perceptive, ambitious, and able to submit to the rules while tirelessly probing and charting the gray areas at the edges. I’ve suspected you were one of us since your first session. After how you took to it in there, I’m sure of it.”

Kristen took another sip. Unused to the caffeine, her nerves buzzed. This was easily the best opportunity anyone had ever offered her. Pleasure control officers got steady work for steady points and, apparently, a few off-the-books comforts as well. Still, the chains of her chastity device felt especially tight, and her clit throbbed distractingly inside.

“Is something bothering you?” asked Officer Deacon.

“It’s just, when you said the thing about me being discontent with my level of control,” Kristen sighed. “It’s my fault, of course, but I’d started hoping that I might get to orgasm. Not just once, but regularly. Enough to be satisfied and relax, and not obsess about it all the time.”

“Never,” said Officer Deacon, with a sympathetic twitch of her lips.

Kristen failed to hide her horror at the officer’s honesty. She felt her eyes widen.

Officer Deacon chuckled indulgently.

“People must be controlled,” she said. “Otherwise, they revert to being worse than animals. You understand that, right?”

Kristen nodded, then remembered to say, “Yes,” out loud.

“A human who has enough is a human without a leash,” said the officer. “Did you know that, before the Bureau, the government kept people in line by withholding necessities?”

Kristen’s eyes remained wide.

Officer Deacon nodded. “Food. Shelter. Medical care. People who didn’t meet earning quotas, or who made a mistake, sometimes people who just got unlucky, the old punishment was letting them die.”

“That’s horrible,” said Kristen.

“Yes,” said Officer Deacon. “Especially when you consider that controlling pleasure is just as effective a way of controlling people. Not to mention, it allows a lot more chances for learning and improvement. That’s what the Bureau is really for. To impose discipline safely, without the loss of lives.”

Put like that, it didn’t sound like the worst calling to follow.

Officer Deacon reached forward to brush a long lock of hair behind Kristen’s ear.

“The reality is, you will never truly control your own pleasure,” she said. “Fewer than one in a thousand people are ever granted that privilege. However, with a bit of training, I think you’re an excellent candidate to control someone else’s. You might be surprised by how much satisfaction there is to be found in that.”

Though it felt shameful to admit it, Kristen could already see how that might be the case.

“And, in case you need any more convincing,” Officer Deacon looked away from Kristen to gather up her own coffee cup. “Joining us would mean a year of training under me, after which, we would become coworkers.”

“Coworkers,” Kristen repeated, not minding the equal, symmetrical sound of the relationship. “What would I call you then? Still Officer Deacon?”

“On duty, yes,” said Officer Deacon. “But if we were to grab a drink after work… you might call me Leila.”

It took all the restraint in Kristen’s body not to call her Leila right now.

“Can I assume you’re interested?” asked Officer Deacon.

“Yes,” Kristen answered, fully decisive. “I won’t let you down. Whatever I have to do—”

“Okay, calm down.” Officer Deacon held out a hand before Kristen could get ahead of herself. “Let’s focus on your first subject. We really shouldn’t keep him waiting all day. How do you think we should teach him his lesson?”

#

“You should know, we— I strongly considered taking pleasure off the table for this appointment altogether,” Kristen told Ethan, taking the officer’s chair opposite him.

Officer Deacon stood in the corner of the room, behind Ethan’s left shoulder, observing. She had opened the panel next to her and activated the camera behind it, with promises that the footage would be for internal use only.

Ethan swallowed and watched Kristen’s lips move, hanging on every word.

“I considered a lot of different tools to bruise you up a bit,” said Kristen, “and then induce a minimum-pleasure ejaculation.”

Ethan waited for the “but.”

“We can still do that,” said Kristen. “But I’d like to give you a chance for something better. Something that will help tide you over until you can get your score back up. But only if you can show me signs of improvement.”

“Of course, ma’am. How?”

Kristen rose and opened the wall panel on the far right behind the desk, where the highest-level disciplinary implements were kept.

The device she selected, based on Officer Deacon’s guidance, consisted of two narrow steel plates, rimmed with soft rubber for safety. Two long, threaded bolts, one for each end, held the plates loosely together.

Kristen set the device down on the table, removed the nuts from the ends of the bolts, and separated the plates. The bottom one, she placed at the edge of the table closest to Ethan. The top, she kept in her hands as she retook her seat.

“The way I see it,” she said. “Your current situation stems from two problems. First, your underestimation of just how sore your testicles can get. Second, your uncontrolled weakness for skin girls. We’re going to tackle them both, and if you do well, you’ll get a chance for a full-pleasure mercy orgasm. Sound reasonable?”

“Y… yes, ma’am,” said Ethan. His breathing grew short and shallow as he eyed the metal plates, and his penis thickened against the bars of its cage.

“You wouldn’t prefer a guaranteed ruined orgasm with only a mild paddling? Or just to go home as you are and think about what you did?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head firmly. “I want to do better.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Kristen.

She glanced to Officer Deacon, who stepped forward to tap her ID card against the side of Ethan’s chastity device. With a command on the officer’s tablet, the chains detached from one side of his cage, making it possible to remove.

Ethan’s breath hitched.

“Stand up, remove the cage, and place your balls on the plate,” Kristen ordered. “Hold your dick out of the way by the base of the shaft. We won’t need it yet. Do not touch the head.”

Ethan’s knees shook slightly as he stood.

With difficulty, he eased his straining penis out of its cage. It expanded to triple its resting size in a matter of seconds and stood on its own. Realistically, he didn’t need to touch it at all to keep it separate from his balls as he placed them on the metal, but he did anyway, lingering with his hand on the base, apparently savoring the novelty of the contact.

Kristen could see his fingers twitching to move upward, but he restrained them, holding to the letter of her instructions.

She fitted the second plate back onto the bolts, resting it on top of his balls, and screwed the two nuts back into place. Gently, for now.

“Hands away,” she instructed. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Ethan answered, reluctantly letting go.

“Really? Just from the weight of that tiny little sheet of metal?” said Kristen. “Wow, you really did a number on these, didn’t you?”

She ran a finger along the loose skin sticking out on her side of the vice, and watched a shiver run all the way up Ethan’s spine.

“I’m going to give you five full turns of tightening,” she told him. “Each half-turn will squeeze the plates about a millimeter closer together. While I do that, you’re going to imagine a situation where you’ll be tempted to gamble more than you can afford to lose, and tell me how you’re going to handle it. Ready?”

“Yes.” Ethan gulped the word. “No problem.”

Kristen put her thumbs in place, on the tiny built-in handles of the metal nuts, and gave them their first half-turn.

Ethan breathed in sharply. His erection bobbed down and up, but if anything, it ended up sturdier than before.

“Okay, so,” he put a lot of air into the words, giving them a melodic wobble. “The next birthday in rotation is, oof, Phil’s, so we’ll probably be going to an actual casino. It’s kind of his thing. That’s probably not a good idea for me, is it? I’ll tell them to go without me. That I’m under the weather.”

Kristen gave him a full turn of the nuts.

He sucked in air and reached down to the table to support himself, keeping his hands a careful distance from the device.

“That sounds like a short-term solution,” Kristen told him. “Are you going to play sick on every birthday from now on?”

“Maybe?” Ethan said uncertainly. “If I have to?”

Kristen gave another full turn.

“You’re halfway there,” she told him.

“Thank you for your mercy,” Ethan squeaked and then cleared his throat.

“When your friends point out your convenient timing, what are you going to tell them?” Kristen asked, slowing to a half-turn.

“I…” Ethan panted and struggled with abstract thought. “I don’t know, ma’am. I’d welcome your guidance.”

Kristen gave him a full twist for his stalling tactic.

“You could tell them you’ve quit risking the pleasure you’ve earned for a chance at pleasure you haven’t,” she suggested.

Ethan clasped his hands behind his head and let out a long breath through pursed lips, concluding in a low whistle. Kristen wasn’t completely sure whether he was reacting to the pain or the thought of how his friends would react to this description of their activities.

“Or,” she fluttered her fingers over the top plate, making it vibrate lightly, “you could always tell them that you let a nineteen-year-old girl put your balls in a literal vice, and squeeze them so hard that somewhere, in the back of your mind, they’ll always be there. And now you just can’t bear the thought of doing anything that might make her disappointed” she half-twisted, “with you.”

Officer Deacon pressed a hand silently over her grin behind him.

Ethan was beginning to hyperventilate, each gasp bordering between laughing and crying. “I’ll… I’ll just tell them that I’m quitting and don’t owe them an explanation. Would that be okay?”

Kristen shrugged. “They’re your friends, you should know what’ll work. But if it doesn’t, I’ll still be here.”

She gave the nuts their final half-twist.

Ethan teetered on his feet, testicles pinned to the table by the weight of the device. His breath was turning ragged, and yet through it all, his erection remained. He even managed to smile as his eyes took one more tour of what he could see of Kristen above the table.

He seemed to think he’d earned it under the circumstances, and Kristen could relate, but she doubted he would have done it if he’d known how the second half of his lesson would work.

“There’s no implement you enjoy quite as much as a woman’s body, is there?” she asked him.

“No, ma’am,” Ethan acknowledged.

Kristen got up, raising her face to his level.

“You’re willing to take unwise risks for the feel of real skin. So that’s what you’re going to practice resisting today.”

She turned to open one of the wall panels and bent over to reach the lowest shelf. She knew Ethan was looking at her ass, framed by the chains of her device under her jeans, and for the first time in her life, she enjoyed it.

He wasn’t going to get to fuck her there — she was still too sore from her own punishment to even consider volunteering that — but she could make him imagine, and wonder.

She grabbed what she was reaching for: a plain tube of lip balm.

Turning back toward him, she opened it, applied a smooth layer to her lips, and smacked them when she was done.

“We have eight minutes left to squeeze your balls, before I have to release them for safety,” she told him. “During that time, I will personally rub, lick, and suck your cock without so much as a pair of gloves between us.”

The sharp thrill that passed behind Ethan’s eyes shifted quickly to terror.

“Ah, you already know it won’t be that simple,” Kristen pointed to his easy-to-read face. “Good. You have the capacity for learning. Every time you reach the edge, you are going to tell me, ‘No.’ Just like what you should have said when you were asked to gamble for that skin girl session.”

By the look on Ethan’s face, this must have been even scarier than whatever he’d imagined for himself.

“Each time you say ‘No,’ I will stop for thirty seconds,” said Kristen. “If you can control yourself for those eight minutes, just eight minutes, I will suck you off and swallow. If you cum before that time, I will make sure you don’t enjoy it. Do you understand?”

Ethan nodded vigorously, barely gathering the air to say, “Yes, ma’am.”

Kristen arranged her knees under her on the chair and sat up, leaning forward on her forearms.

It was strange, having her torso bent over one of these cold, steel tables, with her clit locked away and an older man’s erect penis inches from her face, when she was supposed to be proving her ability to control the situation.

She shoved away her worries that she’d veered off course somehow, and dived in, running her tongue along the bottom of his shaft, all the way up to the head.

Ethan shivered, thighs breaking into goosebumps before her eyes.

Kristen grabbed onto the ends of the vice, holding it even more firmly in place, and took him all the way into her mouth, making him gasp out an audible “Oh.”

Paralyzingly sensitive skin and vulnerable blood vessels pulsed trustingly between her jaws.

Her calculations were sound, she decided. This might not have been what she’d imagined power looking like yesterday, but there was no question where it lay in this interaction.

She sucked him gently, lifting her head up and down to rub her tongue against the head, playing with the stickiness of what dripped out.

Her inability to taste him was part of what had given her the courage to do this, but now that she could smell the surprisingly mild musk of his sweat, feel his warmth and smoothness, she found herself wanting to fill in the missing piece of the sensory puzzle.

Letting him keep his flavor a secret while she did this felt almost like allowing him the privacy of clothes.

She’d fix that the next time she worked a case like this… assuming the experimental injection actually wore off when it was supposed to.

Ethan gasped, almost reached for her, and then clasped his hands forcefully behind his back. His dick lost what little give it had, refusing to conform at all to the pressure of her lips.

“No,” he forced the word out.

Kristen stopped immediately and sat back in her chair, noting the time on her phone.

Ethan put an arm over his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm his body.

With his attention elsewhere for a moment, Kristen met eyes with Officer Deacon, who was smiling with pure pride. After a matter of seconds, however, she nodded in Ethan’s direction and lifted one eyebrow.

Her look said plainly, You’re not going to make it that easy for him, are you?

Kristen smiled back. Keep watching.

Determined to justify her new mentor’s confidence, she examined Ethan, trying to imagine what Officer Deacon would do with him herself, if she were sitting in this spot across from him.

“You just love knowing that I can’t cum while I do this, don’t you?” Kristen asked Ethan.

Ethan looked at her with a start, lowering his arm.

Kristen left the chair and sat halfway on the table, so that he could see the outline of her device.

“No pressure on you to make it happen. No guilt, no worries about whether you’re good enough. You can be as selfish as you want, because that’s all we’re here for. It’s all for you.”

Ethan bit down on both his lips at once. His shoulders lifted in a self-conscious shrug.

“I guess so, ma’am. Sounds like you understand the appeal.”

It was a halfhearted attempt to turn the point around on her. He couldn’t hold her gaze for long, and his eyes kept falling to the hard chain tracing the top of her hip joint.

Kristen continued studying him.

“That’s not the only reason you like it either,” she said. “You love thinking about how it must feel for me, servicing you while locked up. You love knowing that any excitement this gives me will build up inside a steel cage, with nowhere to escape to, that I’ll have to sit with it for days, maybe weeks, uncomfortable for you. Makes you feel desirable, doesn’t it? Even knowing how little it takes to make a starving body drool.”

Fresh drops of pre-ejaculate slid out of his straining dick in agreement.

“Yes,” Ethan admitted breathlessly. “I’d like to think I do that to you, even a little. Even if it’s a bit of a cheat.”

“Break’s over,” Kristen said cheerfully, kneeling back on her chair and leaning forward over the table again.

Ethan moaned with apprehensive longing and stood still, hands gripping each other behind his back, while Kristen lowered her mouth onto him again. It was about all he could do.

She had barely given him one full tour, from her lips to her throat and back again, before his next “No.”

Kristen stopped and sat back on her knees, leaning her cheek on her hand and looking up at him suspiciously.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Ethan?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Not even a little exaggeration to how close you are, to sneak in a few extra breaks?”

“No, ma’am,” Ethan insisted, between heavy breaths. “I can’t imagine needing to exaggerate how hard this is.”

Kristen checked the time. “All right. You might be telling the truth. But just to be sure, I’m going to have to make it a little harder.”

Ethan swallowed and almost choked. He rushed a couple of deep breaths afterward, obviously aware that his seconds for rest were slipping away.

“Each time you say ‘No’ after this one, I will tighten the vice half a turn,” she told him.

“Am I… aren’t I supposed to practice saying no?” Ethan asked cautiously, leaning into his lightheaded confusion.

“Turning down temptation will often be painful, don’t you think?” said Kristen.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Time’s up.”

Kristen leaned forward and started on him again, running her fingers over the head before sucking on it in a steady rhythm.

Ethan did last longer this time, obviously applying every ounce of mental resistance he had left. Kristen counted nearly three consecutive minutes before the next stammering “N… no.”

It sounded as if Ethan’s own jaw was fighting him to keep the word from escaping.

Kristen sat up, checked the time, and put her thumbs to the nuts of the vice.

“At the end of this break, you’ll have just over a minute left,” she told him. “Think you’ll be able to make it in one go?”

“God, I hope so,” Ethan answered in a rush. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”

“Will this bring you closer to or farther from the edge?” she asked, turning the nuts very slightly.

“At this point, it could go either way,” said Ethan.

His responses were getting much less guarded.

“Let’s find out.” Kristen pushed the rest of the way through the half-turn.

Ethan grunted through his own tongue, biting down on it.

“Inconclusive, from where I’m sitting,” said Kristen, examining his glistening erection with her most clinical gaze. “How does it feel?”

“Oh, fuck, like I’m going to burst,” Ethan answered. “I’m just not sure in what way.”

“Better keep it together a little longer,” Kristen advised him. “Here we go.”

Kristen wasn’t sure which ending she would have bet on, if she’d had to.

Ethan had taken everything she’d thrown at him so far with surprising fortitude. Then again, he was as hard now as he had been for the few seconds before his first “No.” She could easily imagine him losing it all over the back of her throat at any moment.

She was ready for that possibility, ready to pull away at the first sign of release and let a whimpering dribble replace the explosion he was anticipating.

It wasn’t until the eight minutes ticked to an end, and Kristen found her lips forming a smile as they left him one more time, that she realized how hard she’d been rooting for him.

“Please, don’t stop,” Ethan begged openly. “I made it. Please.”

“You want me to free you before you get hurt, don’t you?” she asked, unscrewing the nuts up to the tops of the bolts.

His next “yes, ma’am” was so mumbled that Kristen could probably have knocked him fifty points into debt for failure to answer, if she’d really wanted to nitpick, but technically, he wasn’t speaking to a real pleasure control officer. Not yet.

Besides, as she took the vice apart, she couldn’t help feeling he’d been punished enough for one day.

“You didn’t earn this,” Kristen reminded him, lips millimeters from his dick. “But you can have it now.”

She had barely touched him with her tongue again when he came, groaning with bottled-up aching as well as pleasure, letting slip his first tears of the session.

Tightening her lips around him, Kristen sucked firmly, keeping contact with his skin and catching every thick, flavorless drop of semen.

Once she was certain that his last contraction had passed, she sat up so that he could watch her effortlessly swallow.

Ethan slumped forward to rest his hands against the table, his head bowed below hers. “Thank you…” he rasped, “for your mercy.”

#

“Congratulations, recruit,” Officer Deacon said, clipping a provisional ID card to Kristen’s new, clinging white trainee dress, in the privacy of their usual meeting room. “The president of the Bureau personally flagged you as ‘promising new blood’ after that trial video.”

“Thank you, Officer,” said Kristen. “I hope I can live up to it.”

“I hope so too,” Officer Deacon said sincerely.

Kristen’s stomach flip-flopped. The officer had never shown anything but confidence on this subject before.

“It’ll be a great loss to all of us if not,” the officer clarified. “You’re a natural at almost everything.”

“Except for…?” Kristen asked apprehensively.

Officer Deacon bit her lip with the first hint of doubt Kristen had ever seen on her face. “Your mandatory three-month chastity test starts today. No matter how many points you earn in that time.”

Kristen’s knees almost buckled at the thought. Deep spasms ran through her pelvis, and her clit throbbed as if it truly thought it could fight its way out.

She’d assumed she might not earn many points working for the Bureau while she was still in training, but she’d had her heart set on buying a release with her experiment points. She was counting the days until she could rub herself against one of those stimulation wands under Officer Deacon’s watchful eye.

“Were you… were you allowed to warn me about that?” Kristen asked.

Officer Deacon shook her head. “We can only accept the strongest, most disciplined applicants. Ones who can take that news at any time, in any state.”

Kristen breathed until she could nod. “That is… an intense opportunity to impress you.”

Officer Deacon broke into a grin and then returned immediately to her usual bulletproof poise.

“Then let’s get started.” She gave Kristen’s ass a sharp, open-palmed smack. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”

***

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