The Bureau of Pleasure Control Ch. 02

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.