The Bureau of Pleasure Control Ch. 02

(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including ballbusting, male and female chastity, edging, fellatio, ruined orgasm threats, an anal plug, and electric play. There's also a brief reference to psychological sexual trauma. This story takes place in a forced chastity dystopia where uncoerced consent is effectively impossible, but all characters gain enjoyment from the scenes depicted and are over 18. Some activities may be unsafe to recreate. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)

***

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 had 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 that 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 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?"