CyberpunkErotica

by Ora le Brocq

  I found myself in a sort of glass cage. This was the dock. The judge, dressed in an immaculate, expensive suit, looked around in my direction. I stifled a gasp. He had just black sockets where his eyes should have been. I didn’t think I’d have much chance of swaying him toward a sympathy vote.

  A man in a suit stood up and began to talk. “My Lord, case number 312787/2275/33907/exp.”

  The judge’s hand groped on his desk until he found what looked like a pair of old fashioned glasses, except these glasses had red crystals instead of lenses. He inserted the crystals into his empty eye sockets and glanced in approval as his palm computer brought up the case. Then, he popped his crystal eyes out and looked in my direction, a scowl on his face.

  “No defence is to be offered,” continued the suit. I suppose he must have been the prosecutor, though no one ever told me for sure. “I refer to the defendant’s own admission.” He pressed a button on his own palmtop and my voice came out, a recording taken at my arrest in the flat.

  “I wiped those components so I had money for food and the utility bills. When have you ever had to wrap old dog blankets around yourself for warmth and eat rotten potatoes to survive?”

  “We also ask for the normal expenses to be made against the defendant,” continued the suit. “The cost of the investigation into her, the cost of fuel in the vehicles that carried the agents, the cost of authorising the arms and equipment to break into her flat, wear and tear of boots and the ram used to batter down the door, expenses incurred by the agents as they stopped for food and drink during the case, and the cost of holding her in a cell as well as the future costs of keeping her incarcerated.

  “Oh,” continued the suit as an afterthought, “and compensation against the defendant for striking Agent Clarke in the face with the stolen memory chips, and of course, the costs of vandalising the same chips.”

  “Have you anything to say in mitigation?” demanded the judge, looking bored and contemptuous, his black eye sockets glaring at me.

  “Doesn’t it bother you why I did it?” I asked. “What I said in that tape? I would have starved if I didn’t bring money in somehow, and despite being first rate with tech, I can’t get a decent job anywhere because I never went to the right schools or have the right accent. That is what life is like. Don’t you care about that? Don’t you understand about reality?”

  The judge looked stunned at my words. “This is a corporate court. This has nothing to do with reality! This court is here to ascertain if you are guilty.” He screwed the crystals into his sockets and looked in satisfaction at the court records. “We have done so. Sentence can now be passed.”

  “And that’s it, is it?” I shouted. “That’s the system? Narrow and blinkered? Tick the boxes and be done?”

  “They system works,” screeched the judge, shocked and appalled that I dare question him. He waved his palm computer in the air. “The records prove it!” he gazed lovingly at the records on the computer before un-popping his rose-coloured eyes. “You are guilty! I could tell as soon as you were brought in you were guilty! Filthy, degraded creature! You belong to Vine Corp now! You will work off the debt to them in any way they see fit! Take her away!”

  Before I could say anything more, a different guard yanked on my chain and pulled me back to the prison cell, where my two cellmates were still watching TV on their wrist monitors.

  “What did you get?” asked Clare as I was thrust back in.

  I wiped my eyes as I sat down on the bunk, Kyle moving up to make space for me. “Guilty. I’m now the property of Vine Corp.”

  “Oh, god, I’m sorry, babe,” said Clare, giving me a hug.

  “Stay strong, babe,” said Kyle, lifting his eyes from his TV viewer. “Did they say where you’d be taken?”

  “No.”

  “You might just end up in some safe facility, working off the debt,” said Clare encouragingly.

  “Yeah, when I was in the Trenton Corporation Correctional Facility, we all got food and lodging while we worked, plus sometimes, we had the chance to nick a bit of tech and sell it on,” said Kyle. “We still had the chance to stick it to the bastards.”

  “I hope we get the chance,” said Clare, rubbing her shaved head while grinning evilly. “Let the drones know they may legally own us but we’re still free inside.”

  “Shaddup in there,” growled a guard through the wire grate in the door. “You’re not free, never will be.”

  “Like you’d know,” shouted back Kyle. “You’re just a dog on a leash, following your master’s commands in return for a bowl of food.”

  “Yeah, and I’m on this side of the door, so that makes me more free than you and better than you,” grunted the guard.

  “You think you’re as free as us with all your regulations and commands and laws,” laughed Clare. “When did you last do something spontaneous, something for joy?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got more freedom in here than you have out there,” shouted Kyle. “We’re free inside. You’re not. You’re in chains.”

  “Yet, I can go home tonight, which you’ll never do,” sneered the guard.

  “You’ll never do this, because you’re too scared,” laughed Clare as she suddenly peeled her top off. Underneath she was naked. She cast the t-shirt down and lifted her arms up, laughing at the scarlet face of the guard.

  “Stop that, put your clothes back on!” he demanded. “That’s against regulation five seven three, sub section four nine one!”

  Clare responded by pulling her skirt off. She stood totally naked apart from her heavy boots. “Fuck regulation five seven three,” she shouted in jubilation. “This is why we’re free! We’re free of your restraint, your codes, your oppression. You may control our lives, but you don’t control our bodies or our minds!”

  “You tell ‘em, babe,” grinned Kyle. “This is the spirit of the Woodstock Company 2145 all over again!”

  “Put your clothes on, you’re unsettling the other inmates,” snapped the guard.

  We could already hear the shouts and laughter from the other prisoners as they guessed what was going on.

  “Yeah, fear the power we have,” shouted Clare. “You want to stop us? How are you going to? We’re not conditioned to obey your laws! We have free will! Who agrees?” She thumped her fists repeatedly on the steel door, causing a low, dull strum to fill the air.

  “Yeah, testify, sister!” shouted a voice down the corridor. More banging of fists could be heard, setting up a dark rhythm that pounded around the area, a crashing drum beat of rebellion and defiance.

  “Stop that!” screamed the guard, but the noise was so intense, the cheers and shouts so loud that his words and authority were lost. The hatch slammed down and a red warning light came on in the cell.

  “Lockdown,” bleated an electronic voice from the speaker system. “This facility is on lockdown!”

  A fresh cheer went up from the prisoners. Cries of “Let’s party!” and “Beat the system” echoed around the metal cages.

  “This is freedom,” shouted Kyle. “Self-determination, rebellion against the state, never letting them break you! Free will!”

  “Free will!” roared other voices, the drum beat increasing.

  “Paaarrrrtey!” yelled a dozen more voices.

  “What’s going on?” I asked incredulously.

  “Rebellion of the mind, rebellion of the body!” shouted Clare. “We’ve had control taken from our lives, but we can control our bodies and our thoughts. We can act how we want, not how we’re told. Free bodies, free minds!”

  “Free bodies, free minds!” shouted the mob, the drumbeat getting louder, sensual, more dangerous.

  Clare whirled round and grabbed Kyle around the head before crushing her lips against his.

  He reacted to the embrace, running his hands over her hot body, feeling her ass, her thighs, her hips.

  “Join the revolution,” gasped Clare, holding a hand out to me. “Rebellion against oppression!”

  I was con
fused, scared and with the sensual drumbeat and the gorgeous, nearly naked body of Clare in front of me, plus the hard muscles of Kyle yet to be undone, I was feeling damn horny as well. Scared horny but still horny.

  Chapter Seven

  The sensual drumming of the forbidden beat being rapped out on the walls of the prison, the act of rebellion, the act of taking control, all worked on me, taking me to a higher sensual pitch I’d ever known. Finding freedom when trapped in a small cell, finding space within my own mind that overcame the limited space of my surroundings worked on me, heightening my sensations, tastes and feelings. The beat pounded my ears and sent shivers down my body, making my nipples extend and engorge, the tips quivering in time with the beat.

  The white of the prison wall was such an intense colour, it almost blinded me. The smell of Clare’s body filled my nose. Kyle pulled his top off. The sight of his flat torso and intricate tattoo design around his abdomen filled my vision until the tattoo almost seemed to move, winding its way sensually over his skin.

  Clare dragged me forward and kissed me. Her mouth exploded on mine as I tasted her skin, her saliva, the heat from her tongue as she forced it into my mouth in savage abandonment, surrendering herself totally to the moment. Her hands ran up and down my body, grabbing at my breasts, squeezing them tight, sending electrical pulses through me.

  At the same time, Kyle was kissing my neck, his hot lips covering my bare skin, his teeth nipping at my exposed flesh, sending yet more signals through my pulsing body. His strong hand ran up and down my spine, stopping at my ass, pressing me into him and Clare, while his other hand pushed Clare forward so we were all three crushed in tightly together, kissing, rubbing, Clare’s naked body burning me through my clothes, Kyle’s naked torso driving me wild with lust.

  Moving as one, Kyle and Clare pulled my top off. My bra followed and both dipped down to smother my naked chest in kisses before latching on to my huge nipples, sucking, licking and caressing. My breasts bounced with each touch, sending more crazy signals through my body, most of which seemed to be plugged directly between my legs.

  I yanked at the buttons on my jeans, desperate to release the pressure, to reveal myself, to be taken, to be me.

  Clare and Kyle grabbed my jeans and pulled them down, exposing my shaved pussy.

  Clare cried out in delight and immediately unfurled her tongue, running it over my bare flesh before teasing me around my wet opening.

  I kicked the jeans away and opened my legs. Cupping Clare’s head in my hands, I guided her face into me, moaning as her long tongue eased its way in. My pussy was already soaked in anticipation. At Clare’s touch, it quivered and nearly exploded, covering her tongue in hot drops of cum. I repositioned my leg so I could haul Clare’s face up higher, tipping her head back so her tongue could have greater penetration, revealing the top of my pussy, which invited my hand to drop down and play with my clit ring as Clare licked me harder.

  Easing my legs further apart opened up my ass. I felt Kyle’s lips kissing my back as his finger slid up toward my ass hole, gently probing. I eased my legs open even more, inviting him in, wanting to feel full penetration, front and back.

  Kyle’s finger slid up to my ass hole and probed the opening. The finger eased me apart, a slight pain turned to a raging fire of pleasure, and I was open, exposed, two fingers in my ass burning in delight, gushing over Clare’s face, two fingers rotating, opening me more, easing inward, deeper, making me scream in delight, the sound bouncing off the walls and entwining with the continued throb of the forbidden drum beat.

  I almost collapsed from the pleasure. Clare caught me, laughing, pulled me down onto the bunk on top of her, my breasts hanging down and pressing against her larger chest, our nipples brushing, the contact creating sparks inside our bodies. I pushed her legs apart and dropped down, our pussies meeting, our juices flowing, mingling, joining, pussy against pussy, one shaved, one hairy, rubbing together, sweat mingling, clitoris against clitoris, rubbing, engorging, exciting, pulsing.

  Behind, Kyle positioned himself, rubbing my breasts, then with one movement, he entered me, his cock sliding into my well-lubricated pussy. I screamed into Clare’s face as the shaft eased me open and plunged deep within me, multiple signals roaring through my body, physical abandonment and emotional freedom combining, making me cum, making me scream, making me sweat in torrents.

  Clare licked at my body in a frenzy, tasting the salty sweat, licking it off my neck, my breasts, my nipples, my face, all over, licking and panting, gasping in pleasure as we continued to grind our pussies together, climaxing in unison. She yelled in delight as Kyle slid out of me and into her, his cock heavy with my juice, mixing with Clare’s, burning her, making her mouth fall open, her eyes unfocussed as she lost herself, her identity, her individuality in the sex, the rebellion, the act of validation that powered us all.

  Kyle was back inside me, riding me doggie, pounding me in time as I fucked Clare beneath me. Then, he was inside Clare again, she was rotating her hips, pushing up and sideways to increase penetration, to fill her pussy from side to side, to slam upward into my own hot pussy, pleasure for all, freedom for all, until I was spent, drained, the torrent reducing to a dribble.

  Clare shuddered and gasped, but she was done as well. Kyle had already collapsed on top of me. He had been spent some time ago. I never even felt him climax as my body raged and produced its own juices, but I felt his hot cum dripping out of my trembling pussy, sliding down my legs where I caught it and rubbed it over my clitoris.

  I slumped down, resting on Clare’s hot body, her heat radiating through me, my sweat almost boiling off my skin, Kyle heavy on top of me, his cock still deep inside me, and we held each other as the drumming ceased, the cries of the inmates quietened as we slept together, holding each other tightly, enveloped in our lust and freedom.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day, I was taken from the jail. I never saw Clare or Kyle again. The guards didn’t tell me where I was going or what was going to happen to me. They just bundled me into a prison transport vehicle, which added another week to my sentence for the cost of the vehicle and driver, and I was taken on a short journey.

  I was pulled out of the windowless van and marched into a building. I barely had time to make out any details apart from the odd flash of metal and glass windows. Wherever I was, it looked like a new, modern and important building.

  I was frogmarched along several corridors, all without windows, all with guards posted along them, and I guessed I wasn’t going to be working off my debt in a factory. By the time we reached our destination, I felt sick. When I saw the final door was labelled Experimental Laboratory, I was sick.

  “That’s another three days on your sentence,” snarled one of the guards as he called for a cleaner.

  He thrust me through the door, and I was in the lab. The interior wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. Some computer terminals stood against three of the walls, a video screen dominated the fourth, and a few chairs and stools were scattered around. About a dozen people were already inside, all wearing white coats over their suits.

  “Thank you, Tom, just put her in that chair,” said one of the technicians. The security guard thrust me roughly down on the hard chair, pinned me under the restraints and glanced around.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “No, we’ll handle everything from here,” said another technician as he busily flipped switches and rotated dials on the equipment. There seemed to be a sense of urgency and excitement in the room.

  “I think we are good to go,” said a woman eventually. “All the readouts are within the predicted range.”

  “Good. Hook her up then initialise,” said an older man, presumably the leader of the group.

  “What are you going to do to me?” I demanded in fear.

  “You’re very lucky,” said the woman. “If this works, you’ll work off your debt to the Vine Corporation in almost one go.”

  “If this works? What if it
doesn’t?” I asked. “What are you going to do?”

  “We’re trying to create a new interface, not just for entertainment, but one that will unlock the human mind,” said one of the younger men. “An interface that expands our intelligence exponentially while also allowing us to access all information ever recorded. This could be the moment that we truly become our own masters as we take full control over evolution. From this point on, we can control our own development. We can rise above our physical limitations. We can become as gods! Oh, I’m Andrew, by the way.”

  “You mean you’re going to make me more intelligent?” I asked doubtfully. “I’ve never been that bright. I failed the grade three intelligence test when I was five. You must all be alphas, the cleverest of them all. I’m only a Delta.” I felt humiliated and insignificant. “But what are you going to do to me? What’s the danger?”

  “We’re expanding the human mind by realigning the synapses and rewiring the brain code,” said Andrew, “whilst also dumping into your brain the sum of human knowledge contained within the Neural Data Net. You could become as clever as we are. Won’t that be an experience?” He grinned nastily.

  “Ha,” muttered one of the women. “A trained chimp is still a chimp.”

  “Now, now, Anna,” smirked Andrew, trying not to laugh. “Not everyone has our advantages.”

  “I started out in Old London, the same as she did,” said Anna dismissively. “I was able to pull myself up by my own efforts.”

  “Anyway,” continued Andrew quickly, as though he had heard that before and didn’t want to get side-tracked. “If we can do this, we can experience a whole new level of being, of sensation, of emotion. Not to mention what the law and military will pay us for a soldier capable of hooking up to the Data Net and monitoring everything, everywhere, at once.”

  “This will be worth billions in the first few months alone,” said Anna, her eyes gleaming.

  “So we try, try and try again,” said one of the other men.