And now she'd followed her here, to the one place she could actually have sex as if to taunt her that she still couldn't do it properly, that she had to have her powers suppressed or twisted.
`We could simply mind wipe her of course. It's standard procedure with those who, ah, stumble upon us at an inopportune moment. She's rather excited by the whole affair though. A couple of notes of indignation.'
Her server. Short cut hair with a single dyed red streak. She was a Master, but Lisa's knew that she wouldn't use her power unless requested — couldn't, most likely. A restriction imposed by Anansi. She was clad in what looked and felt like leather — tight, tight leather trousers, tight enough that she could see every flex of muscle as Cherie shifted, a leather corset cropped short over the midriff, which was itself covered by a fishnet web of leather. Leather seemed to be her theme, covering almost every inch of her skin save her face, and Lisa had been rather enjoying its cool, varied textures before the sudden interruption.
`Would she be gone for long?'
`Two days. Maybe a week depending on how much excess work Cranial has to do.'
`Shit. She'd have set her team up to harass me if she wasn't back within a day.' Lisa rubbed at her temples. She loved not having her power for these little sessions, but it would be so useful —
An idea. Sudden clarity of thought. `Anansi. Was Faultline on the list of potential clients?'
`We had considered contacting her, yes.'
`Can you keep her tied up until the power nullifier you've given me wears off? And stop her power from working?'
`Of course. We did the latter immediately. The damage she could cause otherwise...'
`And — I'm going to need a costume. I don't know if you can -'
`My spiders are perfectly capable of spinning web directly onto you, yes.'
`Good. If she wants me so much, she's going to get me.' And then Lisa told Cherie and Anansi her idea.
* * *
To say Kayden was uncertain about this would be a gross understatement.
She wasn't proud of coming here. It was the sort of place that seemed — grimy, on an ethical level, no matter how much it attempted to polish itself. But she had — oh, who was she fooling. She wanted sex but couldn't screw up the courage to go bar hopping. After the complete failure that was Justin she wasn't going to return to him, and the thought of sex with Max again — it was appealing but it would be too much of a backslide. She couldn't go back.
So instead she'd gone here. Night had recommended it, of all people. Had shown her how to get there. She really didn't want to think about what her sort-of-friend got up to here — with her power...
They'd asked to examine her to work out `the best service to offer'. Her memories of the process were fuzzy — apparently that was deliberate. Said it ruined the pleasure, the anticipation to have memories of `awkward psychology exams and personal questions'. The man had been strangely charming, but she'd almost blasted him when he'd handed her the results. It was unthinkable that this was what she wanted, something so extreme, so taboo — she just wanted sex —
Somehow she'd ended up on this gurney. She hadn't been coerced. But she'd — had it explained. Partly. And while that hadn't made it any better — knowing that she'd find this hot frankly made her stomach churn — it had made it more — oh, she didn't know. Appealing, maybe?
One of the spiders on the bed beside her crawled forward, nail-legs digging slightly into her skin as it moved. As if sensing her discomfort they sprouted into soft rootlike structures. It gazed at her, blank bronze eyes fixed on her own. `Are you ready?'
Not really. `Yes. Are — are you just going to get started?'
`Well, we like to show clients the designs available first.' Motion. The gurney was sliding forward. `Make sure they're happy.'
`Do you do this — often?'
`A few times, yeah. Enough to have a procedure for it. Let's see...' The ceiling in motion overhead stopped, a screen coming into view. `Now you won't have nerve endings on the interior of the shell — we tried that once and while some people enjoyed it, your tests indicate that you probably won't. So most of this is going to be just cosmetic.'
`What about the — anatomy?'
`Hmm? Oh that's fairly standardised. I'm fairly sure you don't want the details...' Images flicked past on the screen. `Where are we...ah yes. All our devices are sterilised and specifically designed for whatever we've worked out the client wants. Hermetically sealed to prevent any organ degradation, of course, with fully functioning oxygenation pumps and all the rest. Now, with your options...we can go with a more standard vase shape, or something like an amphora?'
`Um. Standard, I think.'
`Any preference on colour or pattern? We're going to make it glow, by the by, so the contrast with your flesh won't be as harsh.'
`Glow?'
`We'll be turning on your powers, just a very little bit, to mask your identity. That is what you do, isn't it? Instead of a mask?'
`Y-yes.'
`Good. Was worried I'd read the wrong file. Colour?'
`I, um, like the idea of contrast. More like -'
`Your costume! Of course. So we'd want a dark, blue-black — let me just feed that into the system...ooh, that looks nice. Now, we're making it with an extending frangible exterior and back valves to prevent drainage. In terms of what that means, what goes in in liquid form won't come out and the exterior will expand and eventually shatter with its, ah, contents. This will be the end of your session, and we'll anaesthetise you and reconstruct you. Then your session is complete — no need to discuss payment as you're here as part of Magdalene's contract. Does that all make sense?'
`Yes.' That roiling feeling in her stomach, the twitches — surely that was nervousness and dread and not anticipation? She'd suffer through it and then just not go back here again. Night wouldn't ask about it, most likely. She'd probably forgotten she'd made the offer.
`Alright!' The gurney was already moving again, the screen being replaced with harsh white lights. `We're going to put you under now and get started. See you soon!'
And then there was a prick on her neck and darkness.
* * *
It wasn't exactly itchy, wearing her new costume. But it was somehow different in some indefinable —
{microthin, force exerted on exterior spread across wider interior layer by interconnected threads, designed for maximum sensation transmission}.
— or her power could completely ruin the mystery. She'd missed it. Not that it was useful for appreciating Cherie's wonderfully tight little leather clad rear {hip swing is uncomfortable in clothing that tight, doing it out of habit} or even how it had felt to have Anansi's spiders crawling across her skin, leaving their secretions behind.
Taylor's swarm would feel like that, only more so. She hoped that was true, that she'd find that out someday. For now, she'd just have to make do with the memory. {swarm movement more erratic, thicker concentration of insects; Anansi's creations designed with comfort in mind}. Fucking power.
And ahead of her, muffled noises, slowly drawing nearer along the long dark halls. {something restricting speech, indignation, no noises of struggle — unable to be made}. Anansi had done a good job of tying her up then. Good.
Cherie looked over her shoulder and winked. `Ready?' {relying on me using my power to follow her lead, using her power to work out what I want to do to Faultline}.
`Oh yes.'
She strode ahead, palms hitting the carved wooden doors with a heavy thud and slamming them open. {practiced movement, has done this before}. Lisa followed, quickening her step so as they passed the foot of the bed — her on the left, Cherie on the right — they did so in the same instant, steps in sync with each other.
And spread out on the bed was Melanie. Faultline. Naked, save for her silly little welder's mask.
It had been dark, the one time she'd seen her naked before. And then eclipsed under the awkwardness of the rush of information from her power. Which was still there, but because she knew much of it already it had...less impact? Even so, the laundry list kept going — {hair tangled, last washed hair a day ago, last brushed hair three hours ago, ties are made from same material as your new suit, ties are naturally biodegradable, breathing patterns indicate excitement, circular scar under left breast from bullet -}
`Hmm. So this is the intruder. Honestly, I was expecting more.' Cherie's eyes flicked up. {knows you're struggling, offering to use her powers to help}.
Lisa tilted her head. Not yet. `I'm sorry we took so long, we were rather — busy. Gosh, looking at your restraints we left you here for a whole hour.'
`That must have been difficult for someone like you.' Cherie's fingers walked up the underside of that long pale arm with a strange, lilting pace — {musical rhythm, something to do with power}. `My power isn't best suited to checking her state I'm afraid. Would you be a dear, Tattletale, and let me know?' She leaned forward even further, hands running over Faultline's legs.
`Oh, she's not upset at all. She's very excited. Just as one might expect.' She trailed a hand up the thigh. {last shaved legs two days ago, hair now 0.38mm in length, tensile strength of copper of the same thickness}. Thanks power. `After all, she has been asking for this for so very long.'
`Oh you know her? Is she a friend?' Those supple leather wrapped fingers were running over breast and thigh and throat in little skirting patterns, and the sounds Melanie was making were swiftly changing through the gag.
`More like that little girl from school — you know the one. Who thought she was the best and smartest in every class, and so brilliant and obviously the leader. But the cool kids only let her hang out with them because she was so easy to fuck.' The words felt oddly clunky for a moment, then a sudden rush of lust washed through her, overcoming it. Cherie's power.
`Oh that sort.' One leg swung high, and she was straddling Faultline's chest. `Well. She doesn't need the mask, then. Not like she's a proper cape.' {muscle motions are grinding vagina against her sternum, deliberate, can be felt through the `leather', leather is actually biodegradable -} she could guess the rest. The mask came away revealing her face. A little on the round side, brilliant blue eyes. What lipstick she'd worn had smeared away on the cute little gag that held her mouth open.
She looked away before her power could start analysing it. She would show Faultline, but she'd know her limits, and she didn't want to know its manufacture and why it was shaped the way it was. Its effects mattered, not its history.
She kept moving her hand, leaning over that tightly muscled stomach. Lisa couldn't quite resist planting a very light kiss against the soft black surface of Cherie's ass even as she slid up those taut thighs. Feeling it tighten and flex in response, and feeling the silk of the suit transmit that from her fingertips to her own legs. {deliberate, certain touches on certain threads will pull other ones in different areas of the suit, can cause very distant sensations}. Now that was actually useful to know.
`Is she one of those self-deluding ones? Who actually believes all the shit they do? Or does she have enough sense to know it's all an act and this is where she really belongs. Mmm.' Lisa looked up in time to see Cherie kiss Faultline hard, hips still grinding into her. `Oh, she already tastes like other women. How desperate are you that right after you whore yourself out you come here?'
`She always did have a hard time keeping herself restrained, Cherie. "Oh Tats, can you just finger me quickly before we go back?" "Come on sweetie, it won't take long." And all the others I caught her with — well. There was a reason we broke up.' It was surprisingly hard keeping this kind of talk up when she could see and smell Melanie's reactions to it. Feel the sweat, the anticipation. It should have been a turn on, but with her power telling her the salt content of the sweat and that from the amount of vaginal discharge she was close to ovulation it was...difficult to keep what that meant in mind.
Cherie glanced over her shoulder and the information seemed suddenly unimportant, easily disregarded. Or perhaps it was the twitches of her hands that sent pulsing pressure across her body, or the glistening dark curls below. She trailed her fingers through them, feeling Melanie — Mels, maybe? That was sufficiently demeaning and childish — shudder in response. `Ooh Mels, you're so plump down there.' Oh god, the liquid seemed to slide right through her gloves, soaking the threads and turning them to nothings, like they weren't even there but somehow the slickness extended to her own labiae —
`She's getting quite excited now. Maybe a bit too excited. I'm not sure you should reward her so much Tattles darling.'
Careful not to move with too much haste, Lisa kept trailing her fingers up, around, back down. `Just checking on the merchandise. And it's not as if she wouldn't enjoy anything we did to her.' She clambered on to the bed — fuck, it was harder than Cherie had made it look. Settled herself down on that long leg of Mels', all too aware of how much she could be felt through her costume. Her nipples were firm and rubbing against the fabric; not the pain and hassle of going braless and becoming aroused but something more like ten thousand hands gripping and rubbing and twisting — oh it was delectable.
`You should be careful. We don't know where she's been, after all. We wouldn't want you catching anything.' {concerned won't be able to hold emotions in place against overwhelming information from direct sexual contact, suggesting some sort of protection}.
`Hmm...do we have any extra silk — ah, that'll do nicely. Thank you Anansi.' She laid the square over her lips. `It's a shame to cover it up, but safety must come first.'
Then she slid her index finger inside, turning it and curling it up as she did so. The double-wrapped silk finger couldn't quite feel enough of that clenching contorting muscle as she'd like, but it cut down the information to something approaching bearable levels. {large number of phagocytes bacteria and yeast present at entrance to clean area of infection, unused to penetration, internal wings of clitoris present — }, ah, now there was something she could use. She made a gentle beckoning gesture...no, she needed to turn a little to the left —
And like a key fitting into a lock Faultline's hips shuddered and bucked and her walls clenched, hard enough that she almost had difficulty keeping up the same slow motion. That sent her thigh straight into Lisa's own crotch, almost painfully, but she rode with it, the tightness on her finger transmitting straight through Anansi's fabulous, wonderful silk right to her clit, like she was sucking on it with her pleasure even as she ground against her.
