by Ora le Brocq
“Hey, Zara, you want some fun?” hooted Butch as he stood in front of me, his arms spread wide to catch me. Butch and his gang are always looking for meat. They have their code. Steal the victim and share and share alike. If you accept it, you’ll get a few slaps, maybe a kick, maybe lose a tooth or break a rib, but then you’re done. Take a mood pill, you’re good to go again.
That night, however, I felt rage. Rage at my life. Rage at how life was for everyone. When would the revolution happen? Sex gangs could do as they wanted because no one stopped them. No one ever tried. All the police would do was give you a crime number to prove you were a victim of crime and a few credit notes in compensation. That was it. Anyone from a steel city gets attacked, the private police rip the city apart to get the criminal, and the system pays the victim a huge lump sum of hard cash.
I growled in fury and charged at Butch. His grin faded as he saw me heading straight toward him, probably something that had never happened before. Then, I was on him. My heavy bag smashed into his face, and I followed up with a heavy boot straight to his balls. He fell with a howl.
The rest of his gang turned on me, pulling knives and chains.
“Run!” I screamed at the woman on the floor. She crawled upright and staggered away.
“You’re going down, bitch,” leered one of the gang.
“Only after you’ve dealt with the corps,” I snarled back. “They’re right behind me.”
“You’re lying,” snapped another of the gang. Then, the aerial corps car, lights flashing, swung in behind me and accelerated forward.
“Shit!” screamed Butch as he hauled himself up and tried to run, cupping himself in agony. The gang fled as the two corps jumped from the car. I shoved a gang member into another and they fell, sprawling, blocking the route, and I was running again.
I continued up the street and glanced behind me. The gang was desperately trying to get away, while behind them, I could see the corps. I skidded into a side street, turned left down another, then left again, and appeared back on the main road just in time to see the corps looking round, confused. They’d lost me.
I slipped away, laughing and crying in fear and rage, and headed for the flat.
Chapter Four
I wouldn’t have been able to describe how I felt at that moment, not properly. I didn’t have the vocabulary, or even the ability to sift my thoughts in a rational manner. Those things had been denied me by my upbringing. I only have it now, after… but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I got back to my flat, feeling elated for having, as I thought, escaped the system, but I was angry as well. Undefined feelings moved within me. Why should I have to live like this, illegally, just to get money for food and rent? Why do any of us have to live this way? There are too many parasites, not enough police, not enough good jobs except for those who went to the best schools, but then, they’ve got class. I’ve got nothing.
I was emotionally and intellectually confused, trying to put words around concepts I could see only as vague outlines in my mind. I could not articulate everything I felt and thought, but neither did I realise the fact that I couldn’t articulate what I felt. I was just aware of being disturbed by half-formed ideas which were too big for my head.
At that point, Wrecker wondered past. “All right?” he asked as he walked through from the kitchen, carrying food that I paid for.
I followed him into the sitting room, which was also the bedroom.
“We’re nearly out of electric,” he said, gesturing at the display on the wall. “Got any money?”
“Why don’t you put some coins in?” I demanded in exasperation.
“I haven’t got any,” he said, shrugging, his eyes never leaving the multimedia screen.
“Then turn the media centre off and conserve the power for heating and hot water,” I snapped as he reached for his game headband.
He sighed, as though I were being completely unreasonable. “Lift out of order, is it?” he asked, finally looking at me and noticing my heavy breathing and flushed face. The lift frequently breaks down in the flat. The last time was because a drug dealer had flung a body down the shaft. It took over a year for the owners to fix it.
“No,” I replied, wondering if I should tell him what had happened. I wanted to talk to someone but Wrecker was useless. He’s only got one talent, aside from not paying his way. He still gets his laundry done by his mum when I refuse to do it.
I looked at his muscles, his bandana, his leather biker vest and felt the usual stirring. He is good on your arm. All my female friends are jealous. “Get over here,” I rasped, feeling yet more strange feelings running through me. Again, I couldn’t explain them clearly, but I had escaped, I was free and adrenalin was surging through me. I was in a state of triumph and I felt I needed to celebrate, for something in me had changed.
Wrecker grinned as I pulled the bed down from its niche in the wall. He unwound himself from the sofa and walked cockily over to me, swaying his hips, letting me see the rippling torso under his top.
It occurred to me he really loved himself and that his grin was more of a leer, almost adolescent in its appearance, but I was hot and horny, and he was good between my legs. I’ve always liked a bad boy. I wanted to reform them.
“Get your clothes off,” I said as the bed banged onto the floor.
Wrecker looked surprised at my words and tone. “Hey, baby, you first,” he said, stretching out to me.
I slapped his hand away. “Undress,” I snapped at him.
Again, he looked surprised, but this time he began to pull his top off.
“Slowly,” I rasped. Again, I couldn’t explain it, but I needed more than just the act. I needed to nourish another part of me, a part that was just awakening, a part of me that needed sensual stimulus, not just physical satisfaction. “Tease me with it.”
I watched as Wrecker slowly, self-consciously, pulled his top off, revealing his sculpted torso.
“Now your jeans,” I said, ogling his gorgeous body, yet strangely conscious that the package was better than the contents. I tried to ignore the alien thought, the criticism of Wrecker’s personality, to concentrate on his body as his muscled legs appeared from under his black jeans.
He stumbled as he pulled them off, unnerved by my close, hungry examination. “Are you all right?” he asked, doubt in his voice as he stood there in his tight purple pants.
“What’s the matter, don’t you enjoy me looking at you?” I asked. “You like looking at those women in your skin flicks.”
He shrugged, his movement sending a ripple around his shoulders and a corresponding ripple through my stomach. God, he was gorgeous. “That’s different, they’re used to it, they like it,” he whined. Gorgeous on the outside, at least. “And they get paid for it.”
“Get on the bed,” I said, repressing a sigh. Whatever mental stimulation I needed, I knew then I would never get it from Wrecker. “Get your pants off,” I added. He was happy to oblige.
I quickly pulled my clothes off, releasing my breasts from their tight container. They’re not huge, but I have a small body, so they look pretty damn big against me. As always, they were the one part of me that Wrecker would look at during sex.
He moved over and gestured next to him, indicating I should go underneath, as always. This time, however, I was hungry and still angry. I grabbed him and thrust him onto his back. His eyes widened in shock.
“Hey, baby, what you doing?” he asked.
“Shut up,” I replied, taking in his perfect physique. Then, I dived onto his cock.
I took the large, throbbing muscle in my mouth and sucked hard, barely conscious of the change in me. Before, I had always taken a cock in my mouth and just licked a bit. Now, I wanted to devour it. I wanted to suck it clean off his body. I wanted to feel it move and squirm in my mouth as I pleasured it, to taste the head, to feel the round, hard end of it against my tongue, to feel the warmth of it ignite deep inside my throat.
My pussy almost d
ripped in excitement and power as I took control, thrusting my head down the length, feeding the cock down my throat before rising back up, saliva spurting out as my mouth cleared the muscle. My spit dribbled down, drooling over the purple head, before I plunged back down once more, harder, faster, sucking with greater intent, feeling not just the cock but the whole experience of devouring it, of hearing Wrecker groan in pleasure, of feeling his dick spasm as I worked him in total control.
With a final suck, I lifted myself, still dribbling, and raised myself on my knees so I towered over Wrecker. Dawn was breaking and natural light was filtering in through the curtains, shafts of warm golden colour spreading out over Wrecker’s muscles. One shaft fell over his hairless chest, illuminating one nipple, a second fell over his taut stomach, while a third went over his thighs, leaving him in dark and light stripes.
He tried to rise but I pushed him back. I straddled him. This time, I was on top and I was staying there. I grabbed his soaking cock, lubricated by my drool, and lifted myself over it, aligning the head with my soaking pussy before dropping myself down.
I almost exploded. His cock slid up inside, rigid, straight, huge, parting me in delight. My juices flowed as I cried out, a yell of pure enjoyment, shock and power. My nipples stiffened and stretched out, straining so much I thought they would burst, especially as I took Wrecker’s hands and lifted them to my breasts.
With this encouragement, he finally got to work, squeezing and massaging my chest, his fingers rubbing against my huge nipples and sending a sensual overload through each one. I longed for him to tweak them, rub them, lick them, but I could only imagine this as I rode him harder as his attention was on squeezing my tits together.
At least I didn’t have to imagine the cock inside. I slammed myself down on it, rotated my hips, lifted and slammed down again, feeling the muscle pound inside me. My orgasm was already starting, only this time, it was so much more intense as I worked for it myself.
I hammered up and down, my stomach muscles and thighs screaming in pain and ecstasy, the sweat springing out from my gyrating body and running down me, covering me in moisture that the cool morning air licked over in delight as it strayed in through the open window. I was nearly there, at the most intense orgasm I had ever known, knowing that release was about to happen, until with a final wrench and convulsion, I came.
I think Wrecker had already come by that stage, but I was so wet I hadn’t noticed, and I didn’t much care. He was just a stud to be ridden. I’d never felt so alive.
Chapter Five
I panted, sucking in a great lungful of air. The night was catching up with me. The fear from earlier, the exhilaration as I swung the bag at the corps drone and saw him go down, the satisfaction of stopping the sex gang. I can’t explain it. I felt things. Maybe for the first time ever. Even the sex felt better. Realer. More intense.
Then the door was kicked open.
“Don’t move,” bellowed a voice. Needless to say, I moved.
I jumped off Wrecker, who was looking around him and bleating, “What the fuck, man?” over and over again. I tried to run through a gap between two of the figures who had burst into the flat. I never made it. Something struck me in the stomach and I fell in agony to the floor.
“Get some light into this hovel,” said another voice in disgust. The curtains were drawn back as I was dragged upward by two heavily armed corps security guards. With their thick armour plating and black helmets, I had no idea if they were male or female.
I recognised the two agents I had run from earlier that night. The agent who had spoken was the same one I had struck with my bag. A small bruise was developing on his face, presumably the cause of his anger. He now had the chance to take his revenge.
“Good God, look at the state of you,” he sneered, looking at my naked body.
What seemed to disgust him were my tattoos and body modifications. I have numerous works of art all over me.
“Degenerate,” muttered the agent.
“What’s going on, man?” whined Wrecker, seemingly gaining some courage from the fact that he was being largely ignored by the two suited agents.
“Your girlfriend is going to face trial for crimes against a corporation,” replied the corps operative.
“Who are you, man?” asked Wrecker. “This is illegal!”
“I am Agent Clarke, this is Agent Nichols,” said the man, still sneering at my naked body. “Miss Zara Mason is to stand trial for her criminal activity. This is your copy of the arrest form as next of kin, partner or nearest available friend.” As he spoke, Agent Clarke pressed a button on the palm-top computer he was holding. A receipt printed out. He passed it to Wrecker, who dumbly accepted it.
“These are your rights, Miss Mason,” continued Clarke. “Anything you say may be used against you in the Corporate Hall of Justice. Anything you do not reveal now may prejudice your defence and will incur a fine. You have the right to representation, if you can afford it. If you cannot afford it, you waive that right. You have no other rights. Do you understand your rights?”
“Damn your rights,” I muttered. “I want to put my clothes on.”
“You do not have the right to want anything. You certainly have no right to your clothes.” Clarke smiled unpleasantly. “I wonder what all your neighbours will think as we drag you naked out of here? Past all thirty-five flights of them?”
Agent Nichols cleared his throat. “That may lead to unfavourable publicity for the department,” he murmured to Clarke. “We’d better let her put something on.”
“Fine,” snarled Clarke. “I think I’m in danger of being sick anyway, looking at the deformities she exhibits. You can see the marks of the lowest citizen stamped all over her body, never mind in her criminal behaviour.”
“I wiped those components so I had money for food and the utility bills,” I shouted. “When have you ever had to wrap old dog blankets around yourself for warmth and eat rotten potatoes to survive?”
“The record shows that Miss Mason, without duress, has admitted her guilt,” crowed Clarke as he printed another form and handed it over to Wrecker. “The trial will now be a formality. Get her dressed and get her out.”
“Er, hey, man, what about me?” mumbled Wrecker as I had my clothes dumped over my head.
“You will receive a fine of two hundred credits for co-habiting with a criminal,” replied Nichols, printing off another receipt and handing it over. “If you wish to challenge the fine, you will need to provide proof that you had no knowledge of Miss Mason’s activities. If you do challenge the fine, please be aware the administrative charge is two hundred and fifty credits. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Wrecker, do something!” I shouted as I was dragged away. I should have saved my breath. As always, I was on my own.
Chapter Six
It used to be said that justice grinds slowly. This is not the case where corporate justice is concerned. The trial was set for that day.
“No point waiting around for a piece of scum like you,” was how Agent Clarke explained it as he pushed me into a holding cell at a private prison. “As you’ve admitted your guilt, you’ll be formally found guilty, and then, your arse belongs to us,” he continued with an evil grin before leaving me to suffer the wait.
“Hey, don’t sweat it, babe,” said one of my cellmates. He was muscular, covered in tattoos, had a grizzled goatee and a shock of dark hair flecked with silver at the sides. On the outside, I’d have been all over him.
“Yeah, these creeps get their kicks by scaring the little people,” added the other occupant of the cell, a short, curvy woman with several pins through her face. I would have been all over her on the outside as well. Both were watching TV on the monitors implanted in their wrists. I envied them the tech.
“I’m Clare, this is Kyle,” she added, never lifting her eyes from the screen.
“What happens if you’re found guilty?” I asked, not really wanting the answer.
“If found guilty
of breaking corporate law, you belong to the corporation concerned,” answered Kyle, barely glancing up from his TV. “Totally. Body and soul, until you have paid off the debt. By the time you’ve paid off the debt, you’re in no state to do anything ever again.”
“Some are used for experiments with new or dangerous technologies,” added Clare. “People have been released from corporate imprisonment missing limbs, organs, even part of their brains. Some don’t survive at all.”
“What?” I exclaimed in horror.
“That doesn’t always happen,” said Clare soothingly. “Sometimes, it’s just a sweatshop you go in, like Kyle did in his first time in the system.”
“Yeah, I was one of the lucky ones,” grinned Kyle. “I was put to work in the corporation factories, making whatever goods were required. The work was tedious, back breaking and lasted for sixteen-hour shifts, but at least you’re alive and mostly undamaged at the end of it. Unless you’re in a radioactive facility.”
“Mason, it’s time,” barked a guard as he opened the door.
“Be strong,” whispered Clare, finally looking up. “And don’t worry. The revolution is coming!”
“Don’t I get the chance of a shower or even a wash?” I demanded as I was taken out.
“Nope,” drawled the guard.
“Why not?”
He glanced at me with a little more sympathy than I had been shown by any other corporate employee.
“You’ll create a bad impression, with your piercings and smudged makeup and grimy face,” he said. “It will confirm the judge’s prejudices against the people of Old London.”
“That’s totally unfair,” I muttered as I was led along to the court, attached to the guard by a huge chain, making me look like a criminal before I even got in.
“Best thing is to plead for mercy, make the judge feel powerful yet forgiving,” whispered the guard. “Good luck.” He shoved me into the court.
