Beyond Charybdis (18 page)

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Authors: Bruce McLachlan

Tags: #chimera, #erotic, #bruce mclachlan, #fetish, #ebook, #fiction, #domination, #submission, #damsel in distress, #cp, #corporal punishment, #spanking, #BDSM, #S&M, #leather, #bondage

BOOK: Beyond Charybdis
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‘Evening, Poseidon, who's the new girl?' asked one of the men.

‘She's the new hopeful; I think we may have found our pilot for the party,' he replied, scrutinising what they were currently working on. ‘Still trying to improve the deployment mechanism?'

‘Yes, it's not easy, but we'll get there. What we really need is a pilot who can handle this. You think she can?'

‘If anyone can, I believe this girl will be able to.'

‘She'll need amazing reflexes if we can't improve the control ratio,' he added, lifting a new section of rubber hide to expose more of the wing anatomy.

Mina looked upon the interior, rising to tiptoe for a better view. Frowning, she regarded the older parts being deployed, ones she was well aware could be updated. Secret advances were being tested in the field of fibre bundles that she knew from personal experience worked well enough to rely upon for this type of duty. Such creations were not unlike artificially grown muscles, save they were many times stronger than their organic counterparts. Tiny impulse generators would make the responsive bundles contract, acting like a cybernetic nervous system, creating wings that could work better than versions nine times their size if these engineers stuck to the clumsy and current means to control them. Poseidon had to have access to the relevant technology, his devotion to finding a pilot slave diverting him from upgrading the design from its initial specifications. She didn't want to embarrass or seem as though she were boasting, but she could seriously assist the project by applying her own considerable knowledge.

‘May I speak, master?' she asked softly, all eyes turning slowly to her with befuddlement, wondering what she could possibly be about to say. Mina noticed worry in Poseidon's eyes, clearly afraid she might withdraw her consent to be the test pilot for his prototype.

‘What is it, slave?' he asked with trepidation.

‘Well, master, the wing mechanism you're using is employing old cybernetic struts and outdated micro-hydraulics. They're about a year or two out of date by now. I think you'll find electrically motivated fibre bundles would refine your weight and drag coefficient and improve aerial dexterity as well as speed of response...'

After a moment's stunned pause, Poseidon smiled and turned to the blank-faced engineers. ‘Is this true?'

The men shrugged and reluctantly gave some soft bobs of their heads. ‘It might work, but they're still experimental at best,' stated one, trying to exonerate their efforts, their pride wounded by the expertise a mere slave girl had shown.

‘But the main reason is time; we just haven't enough to overhaul the entire design and replace everything except the basic skeleton,' retorted the other, with more than a trace of indignation.

Poseidon looked at them with a dubious frown, and then turning back to Mina, he raised his eyebrows, offering her the chance to rebuke. She stepped forward and indicated the relevant areas as she spoke, the strangeness of a naked slave on a leash explaining details that were beyond cutting edge cybernetic technology to the scientists being one that did not escape any in the room.

‘Keep the original pulse generators; the fibre bundles use the same frequency parameters. Sharpen the output and response vectors and you can run the bundles in place of the hydraulics. It should be a fairly simple series of replacements providing you anchor the fibres directly to the superstructure rather than the hydraulic bases.' She noticed another lapse in their design.

‘And look at this, you've used titanium pivots in the main articulated joints. These should be diamond-bored plasteel. Try any of the main centres of advanced metallurgical research in Alaska, they should be able to have the parts moulded the quickest, and while you're at it, see about these fibre-optic control veins.'

‘Now we know those can't be improved... slave girl,' bitterly retorted one of the engineers.

‘Yes, but they're carrying the entire data load. Use older strands; they'll break it into smaller portions. Overall they'll be quicker on reactions and use less room and be less heavy. The ones you've got would be ideal for something much larger, but they're designed to carry heavy traffic. You need lines that are small and deft, working on a single response procedure, direct routes rather than larger, more meandering paths.'

‘Anything else, or would you like to take over for us?' growled one of them, before being hushed by his more sedate comrade, this one less easily inflamed by the questioning of their work.

‘How the hell do you know this?' he enquired, seeking to confirm her sources before taking her word as genuine.

‘I worked for Turan Incorporated until a short time ago,' she replied calmly.

‘A
secretary
,' accused the other man, folding his arms, his eyes glaring at her with contempt. ‘She saw it on memos or something.'

Mina didn't care, she was above trying to boast, she knew what she knew, and she knew she was right. She wasn't trying to impress them; she just wanted the suit to work properly, as best as modern technology could offer.

‘Slave, tell them what you did,' said Poseidon with a drawn smile, revealing that he had all the information about her nefarious existence prior to Charybdis.

‘I was their operative, master,' she said without inflection, addressing her current owner rather than those who were questioning her abilities.

‘What do you mean, “their operative”?' ranted the agitated engineer, throwing his arms up in frustration before the other calmed him, placing a hand to his shoulder and regarding his comrade eye to eye with sudden gravity.

‘No, Jackson, she was
the
operative, as in
one
, as in...'

The eyes of the man suddenly widening with realisation as he followed the chain of words to what his partner was getting at. He suddenly became nervous, his eyes flitting to Mina, more than fear in them.

‘Oh, I see,' he burbled, and quickly shifted away to lose himself amidst the hardware. ‘Well, that would, er, explain it. I'll, erm, get to making the orders.'

‘A pleasure to meet you, miss,' said the other with better-hidden anxiety, and after a curt bow he swiftly followed his companion.

They knew what she was, and knew what she did. She was the person people such as these dreaded. As employees who worked in the shadowy world of private and ultra-secret development, their discoveries moved power across the globe like the tides of an ocean. They created and manufactured discoveries no government would see for years. Scientists such as these were entities Mina had snuffed out on many occasions, snubbing their advances with murder to allow her paymasters the chance to beat the sponsoring rivals to the goal. A delay of mere days could offer billions in potential profits.

The men before Mina would have lived like she had - in hidden corners and pampered luxury. But also they would dwell in constant threat of someone like her coming to their lab or home one night, sabotaging, booby trapping, hobbling their efforts and perhaps liquidating those responsible for them.

Turan Inc was a global power, and as such it confirmed that Mina was one of the elite in her class, a ruthless professional right arm that extended outside the law to smash whatever Turan wanted out of its way.

Poseidon smiled and shook his head, leading her across the room and to the opposite door. Led through the separate room, she was presented to a slightly convex hatch.

‘Don't worry, they're the best in their field,' said Poseidon, with an amused smile. ‘They've just been kept behind on the latest advances by their work here. I wouldn't judge them too harshly.'

‘I meant no offence, master, I just thought—'

‘Don't worry about it, you did the right thing,' said Poseidon, removing her collar and lead. ‘If you're suggestions work out it will make the Pegasus project more effective. Now, to the matter of your training. First, I'll be testing your reflexes and stamina. If you pass these tests, you'll be fitted with the basic uniform that you will then wear until you have earned your wings, so to speak.'

Opening the hatch and revealing the interior of a smooth white sphere, the large orb easily accommodated Mina, leaving her standing at its base, looking up at the ceiling and bland dimensions of the interior. The hatch closed and locked and she was left naked and alone within the test chamber. She could guess its purpose; the ball would spin and rotate, try and confound her ability to adjust to its ever-altering directions.

With a mechanised murmur the ball began to roll on the spot, bringing Mina to a slow jog along its base, her bare feet slapping softly upon the interior plastic surface.

With a smooth and swift deviation it rolled around until she was running in the opposite direction, moving quicker, making her accelerate to a sprint. Keeping focused to the task, she regulated her respiration and kept her mind and awareness razor-edged and ready to assimilate any problem the sphere threw at her.

For seemingly hours she ran around and around, the sphere drastically changing direction at random intervals. Sometimes it jerked to a halt and reversed, carrying her up one side. If she were not quick enough she would be toppled and rolled on the floor, but Mina had the celerity and agility that kept her upright. The programme continued to get more and more harsh, the ball hurtling around, changing speed, direction, trying with ever-increasing stress to defeat her.

It was a pleasing workout, the feeling of pushing her tolerances never ceasing to stoke Mina's sense of pride in her own body. Dancing along the floor of the ball, her heart raging in her chest, alive with tingling heat from the exertion, she was possessed by euphoria as she battled the machine, pitting herself against it.

At last the sphere ceased movement, and with an agile twist she landed in a tensed squat, her balance tilting left and right, her senses confused by the rigours of the event.

‘Well done, slave, you did exceptionally well,' stated a synthesised voice, Poseidon's words corrupted by the hidden microphone he was using to address his imprisoned test subject.

‘Thank you, master,' she panted, keeping her position and striving to once more fixate herself on what direction was what just in case he continued the test.

The hatch opened and Poseidon appeared, beckoning her out, her collar and leash in his hands. Once she emerged she accepted the symbol of her servitude, feeling wonderfully secure for the simple addition as she was led back out of the room.

Escorted through the chambers, she was brought to a fitting room. A black metal sawhorse resided in the middle, and a series of small black wood chests were placed to one side along with a plain chair. The corners flickered with the lights created by the candle-adorned female prisoners, the women hidden from their own source of illumination, their hunched forms squashed into the compacted and terrible fate of eternal captivity and use as no more than furniture.

Three glass doors were equally spaced on the left wall, each entering a white-tiled shower cubicle. The two maids from before were already present, standing on either side of the sawhorse, awaiting Mina with a grim intensity. Their lush forms still resided in the seductive lingerie and Mina's eyes found keen arousal in studying them, her heart aching to run hands across the smooth materials, to touch and embrace the beautiful women, her exercise having roused her thirst for carnal experience once more.

Poseidon caught the fervour of her stare and smiled to himself, removing her leash and collar and indicating to the middle shower room.

‘Remove your clothes and clean and prepare this slave for her uniform,' he ordered. ‘And while you're at it, see to relieving yourselves, and her. I want your full attention on the fitting.'

The women looked to each other with jubilation, ecstatic that they would finally be able to end their frustration. Poseidon walked over and grabbed the chair, drawing it up and settling into it before the transparent pane that would allow him to view their acts. The women moved closer and began stripping each other rather than doing it themselves, taking pleasure in running their hands over the form of the other, fanning the flames of their swollen libidos.

Mina watched the erotic display of their teasing strip with glaring eyes, her mouth watering, her mind yearning to taste and feel them.

Once their bare bodies were exposed they sauntered over to Mina, their motions fluid and graceful, showing their curves off to their waiting and expectant subject. Taking her by the wrists they led her into the small chamber and turned on the warm flow. Twin jets from either side launched a soothing deluge of water across the trio, making Mina gasp with joy as she felt her perspiration being washed from her, the flows of crystal warmth causing her to shudder and run her hands across her slick skin. As she traced her breasts she felt other hands merge onto her, the women using cakes of soap. The suds flowed down with the passage of water, the bars slithering upon her flesh, her head draping back, her ponytail hanging as a limp tentacle down her spine as she moaned softly at the excellent sensations.

Hands parted her thighs and started to run up and down the inside, the soft touch causing Mina to sway with giddiness. In answer to her decadent stupor, the other woman embraced her from behind, her sultry breasts brushing Mina's back, the nipples distinct against her skin. The assets slipped against her, the lubricating waters making them slither against one another as the woman's arms rolled around her, caressing and supporting her, holding her up as the other female continued her task.

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