Quality Control (Kita's Adventures in Product Development Book 1)

by Vanessa Cardui

  "How many is he bringing with him?" asked Terra.

  "I still don't know," said Gerana. "But try asking me another four times and maybe I'll have a different answer." Then she turned, and saw Kita, and stopped there for a second. There was something sort of shocked in that look, which raised up even more butterflies in her stomach. Well, she was . . . she lifted her chin, met Gerana's look.

  "Very decorative, Keets," said Gerana, finally. "Where do you think she should be set up?"

  "Have her by the door, so she can take their coats," said Terra. "You think five people, maybe?"

  "I still don't know!" said Gerana. "But yeah; stay over there, next to the door. No, the other side, so you're not behind it when it opens. When people come in, take their coats, put them in the closet, okay? And don't look so worried. Balan is a notorious libertine, of course, but he's also . . . well, he's not bad. And he's scared of the government, which is is what's going to make this sale."

  Kita went to where she was told, and watched the two of them fussing around the living room. What she really wanted was the collar, so that there'd be something making her stay where she told, other than the way that Gerana looked at her, but it was nice not to have to move tables and chairs around.

  Honestly, Terra and Gerana were way better at that sort of thing than she was. Yeah, the floors were clean and there weren't papers and used dishes everywhere, but they made the living room look nicer than it had ever looked, despite the fact that the furniture was the same, and they were just moving it. There were drinks out, and glasses, and a thing of little cakes, all of which looked classy, but that wasn't it—it was just the way things were set up. Made them look better than they really looked.

  Kita looked down at her dress, and at her bare feet, and then looked away. They were good at what they did, both of them.

  "No, but—leave the coffee table there, for when they're doing the demonstration."

  Terra shrugged. "Not enough room for two, though—we could—"

  "No, we'll showcase one, then the other."

  "Can you—"

  There was a knock at the door.

  Kita wasn't at all sure what to do, but Gerana gave her a sort of put-upon look, so Kita breathed in and opened the door.

  There were a few people who were coming in. Rich-looking people. There was a little confusion as Kita tried to take all their coats at once, and then get them into the closet, but eventually they were all sitting in the chairs, talking to each other and to Terra and Gerana. They had the collar out—two collars, both looking more or less the same, and then some other collars made with brown leather, that were probably the exercisers.

  "Mingle," said Gerana, as she went past Kita to get more cakes, quietly, but sounding tightly wound and exasperated.

  "But I—" Gerana wasn't there to argue with, unless Kita wanted to raise her voice, and then she was in the kitchen.

  "Um, hi?" said Kita, to a woman who was going over to the side table to get a drink. "I'm Kita?"

  The woman looked a bit like Terra; skinny, blonde, and intent. She was shorter and dressed to the nines, rather than wearing a labcoat and baggy trousers, but the essentials were the same.

  "I see," she said. "You're the one that Gerana's been crushing on for like a year?"

  "What? No. . . " Kita hesitated, then blushed. "Maybe? I'm just—"

  "The evening's entertainment," said the woman.

  Kita looked at the floor, and didn't say anything.

  "There, there," said the woman, and she patted Kita's cheek. "Don't worry; nobody besides Gerana is that interested in you. It's the collar they're here to see."

  "Thank you," said Kita.

  The woman trailed her hand down Kita's cheek, to her neck. "Although, Gerana does have good taste. You'd—"

  Kita yelped, and dashed into the kitchen. It was . . . she opened up a window, and stood next to it, breathing. No way she could go back out there, not without.

  "Come on," said Gerana, impatiently. She grabbed Kita by the wrist, and pulled her back out into the living room, sort of dumped her onto the couch next to one of the guests.

  "Kita, this is Balan Courdy; Balan, this is Kita. She'll be demoing tonight. There's just a little bit more we have to set up before we can get started, but if you've got questions, I'm sure she can answer them."

  Balan had professionally styled hair, and the sort of suit that cost more than their entire flat. Kita had no idea what a notorious libertine was supposed to look like, but apparently, this was it. He gave Kita an appraising sort of look. "What are the production statistics on the exercise collars?"

  Kita shook her head. "I have literally no idea why Gerana just told you that I could answer your questions."

  Balan laughed. "Fair enough," he said. "I take it the thing works?"

  "Oh yeah," said Kita. "I mean, it worked in tests? So I assume it still works, but . . . yeah."

  When Gerana had sat her down on the couch, Kita's dress had ridden up a bit, and since she wasn't wearing anything underneath it . . . she did her best to pull it back down into position, but it was hard to do that while sitting, and without looking even less confident than she felt.

  "And is there anything that compels you to put it on, or to not take it off?"

  Kita shook her head. "I don't think so? I mean, once it's on, I can't . . . if I started taking it off, they could just tell me to stop that. But I don't think there's . . . I mean, maybe?"

  "Well, I have to say, from all descriptions, you're certainly earning your share of the enterprise. I mean, yes, Gerana's been putting in a lot of work trying to sell it, and Terra's a genius, but the sort of risks you've been taking, and the—"

  "Yes," said Kita. "My share. Is. Yes. That's a thing that we've been—"

  Gerana showed up next to her, holding the collar. Kita reached for it, pathetically grateful.

  "No, not just yet, Keets," said Gerana. "Everyone, if I could have your attention for just a second? We're about to start, but before we do, if you could all sit down, please? We need the space for the demonstration. Thank you. Keets, can you go stand in the middle of the room, please?"

  "Without the collar?" asked Kita.

  "To establish a baseline," said Gerana. "Go on, that's a good girl."

  Kita stood in the middle of the floor, fidgeted as everyone watched her. "Okay, Keets. Up on your toes, please, and then hold that position. Long as you can."

  Kita went up onto her toes, and tried to hold that position. She wasn't able to do it very long; it was like a minute before her calves were aching impossibly. The people they'd invited mostly weren't paying that much attention to her; they were watching, but they were still talking to each other, drinking, eating various cakes.

  Finally, Kita stumbled, nearly toppled over.

  "Now, drink this," said Gerana, and she gave her a glass of something.

  Kita grabbed it, swallowed, and then spit most of it out. It was impossibly lemon-y, and foul, and the little bit that she'd had was making her want to vomit. She curled up on her knees, coughing, and Gerana was there, her hand on her shoulder.

  "That's it," she said. "Come on, hold it together, that's my Kita. Come on; that's it."

  Kita coughed again, explosively, and shook her head, tried to stop coughing, coughed yet again.

  Then Gerana put the collar on her. "Stop coughing," she said, and Kita stopped.

  "Stand up, tiptoes—just like that."

  Kita stood up on her tiptoes. Gerana put the cup of lemon grossness in her hand. "Drink it up," she said. "Swallow all of it, no coughing, no throwing up."

  It tasted exactly as bad as it had, but she was able to swallow all of it, no problem.

  "Well," said Balan. "She's either a very good actress, or you've got something interesting."

  "Thank you," said Gerana. "And as far as her acting goes . . . Kita stay on your tiptoes, but turn around, so that you're facing away from Mr. Courdy. Now, pull your skirt up—like that, thank you. Now, remember the
ruler from last time—it's going to be hitting you every three seconds, across your ass. Slightly different locations, slightly different intensities, but all at least a bit harder than last time."

  Kita closed her eyes, tried to brace herself, and then the thing came down, hard. She yelped, jerked forward a little.

  There was a soft mutter of conversation from the group behind her. More, the next time it came down.

  "If there isn't anything physical—"

  "The input is entirely convincing," said Terra. "Which is why the version that we're offering is limited—you could convince someone they were choking, and they'd choke. Or that they'd eaten something, when they hadn't. Which'll cause some digestive upsets, so we've put in controls to keep unintentional damage of that sort from being a problem. But it's pretty great—Gerana, do the ass-fucking thing. Only they're not going to do see from that angle."

  "Keets," said Gerana. "Come closer. Two steps; three, good girl. Now, bend forward a little, and use your hands to pull your ass-cheeks apart a little. That's a Kita. Now, you're being fucked in the ass by something big and hard and well-lubed."

  "There is still the possibility of fraud," said the woman who'd talked to Kita, briefly.

  "Even if I'll admit that there's training that'd let muscles move like that," said Balan, "the marks on her ass are pretty convincing."

  "I'm not saying that the device they're showing us does nothing," said the woman. "And the exercisers checked out. But it's possible that training and other effects are combined to make this look like something it's not. If—"

  "If you'd like to do your share of due diligence," said Gerana. "We do have a second prototype available."

  Kita's legs were starting to feel the strain, but she couldn't come down from her toes, or move her hands to help her balance; she stood there, tried not to look at the man sitting opposite her, tried not to think about the way that she was holding herself open, so that they could watch her ass get fucked with an invisible penis, tried not moan as the thing thrust into her, big and hard and well-lubed.

  "The possibility of a confederate within our organization exists," said the woman. "I'm not sure that—"

  "But you aren't my confederate, Nat," said Gerana. "And I don't think that Mr. Courdy is a plausible confederate either. If one of you will take the controls, and the other one put this second prototype on, I'm sure that the effectiveness of our product will be immediately established."

  There was a long pause, when nothing was audible over the sounds of Kita trying to keep her breathing under control.

  "Well?" said Balan, finally. "I'm afraid that I don't intend to put myself under anyone's power in that fashion, not even yours, not even for a few minutes."

  "Fine," said Nat. "But don't—"

  "As you pointed out," said Balan, "we really do have to be thorough; this is a major acquisition. And it would be best if we focused on activities you would be resisting, if you were able to resist."

  Another long pause.

  "Yessir," said Nat, in a much smaller voice. "But—"

  "Once the demonstration is complete," said Balan, "we'll remove the collar, of course."

  And then there was the sounds of a collar being fastened into place, and Gerana giving Balan instructions in how to use the device. It seemed that it was a lot more limited than the collar that Kita was wearing; contradictory or impossible orders would result in the wearer going to a neutral posture in front of the user, and in the case of injury, the wearer would be able to lie still, and repeat that they were injured until the collar was removed.

  "And that's it?" asked Balan, when Gerana was done. "It's on? Functioning?"

  "Feel free to test it," said Gerana.

  "Stand up, Nat," said Balan. "Put a finger on your nose."

  "It works," said one of the other men. "But I can think of better places to put her fingers."

  "Sure," said Balan. "Go ahead and confirm that there isn't anything physical fucking that nice young woman's ass, Nathiene."

  Nat was standing next to her, her hand warm on Kita's flank, her finger probing inside her ass, somehow occupying the same space as the thing that was fucking her.

  "Nothing," said Nat, "but—"

  "But you should remove your skirt and anything under your skirt, stand next to the young woman, and take up the same posture as her, Nat."

  "I don't—"

  "Silently, please."

  From the corner of her eye, Kita was able to see Nat getting undressed, her fingers working quickly and efficiently, and her eyes still not processing what was happening. And then she was next to her, her thigh against Kita's.

  "Is there a command for that ruler," asked Balan, "or—"

  "Just describe what's hitting her, and how hard," said Gerana. "The safeties mean that if you go for something too dramatic, she'll drop down to a ready position and wait for new instructions."

  "Your ass is being hit with a bullwhip, Nat," said Balan. "Almost hard enough to draw blood, but not quite. Slightly different place each time."

  Next to Kita, Nat started, tears at the corner of her eyes.

  "Huh," said Balan, and he was standing behind them. He ran his hand across Kita's ass, and then Nat's, in the same movement. "You can feel the ridging. It's different than your girl's."

  "Right," said Terra. "Like I said, the input is convincing. I mean, yours has the safeties, but without that, you could cause actual physical damage."

  "There's an awful lot of potential here," said Balan.

  "For applications other than simple pain," said Gerana. "I mean—Keets, you're no longer being fucked in the ass with the thing. But you do feel intense physical pleasure whenever Nat touches you."

  She did—her hip was suddenly alive, where Nat was pressed against her. "And if you'll give me your control for a second there—"

  "Nat, you can break position now. You've got a big penis, and you are going to use it to fuck Kita. First her cunt, then her ass. Kita, Nat has a penis, and you're going to feel it when she fucks you."

  Nat broke her position, pulled away, and Kita heard herself whining about the loss of contact. Then her hand was on Kita's hip, pushing her down to her knees.

  Kita landed heavily, tried to struggle back up to her tiptoes, but couldn't, with Nat holding her down, her legs on top of Kita's, pinning her in place.

  And then she thrust up into Kita's cunt, and Kita gasped, her legs still struggling to stand, her face pushed down into the floor, her hands still holding herself open.

  It was big and warm and hard, and it felt impossibly good, everywhere Nat was touching her.

  "No orgasm until you're told," said Gerana. "Both of you."

  Nat was pushing in, hard and insistent, and Gerana could hear her gasps coming in time with hers, her fingers clenching in Kita's hair, on her hip. Then she pulled out, and slid into Kita's ass, still wet and slick from her pussy.

  It was . . . Kita knew it wasn't real, knew that there wasn't anything there, but it felt so real, and so impossibly good. She ground back against Nat, and was rewarded with the way her hands started to tremble, the feeling of her skin against hers, the pulse of her cock deep inside Kita.

  "Okay, Nat," said Gerana. "Go ahead and come like a big boy. That's right; let it all out."

  Kita could feel her coming inside, feel the force of her come, the way Nat's cock stiffened then relaxed, and when Nat pulled out, she could feel a dribble of come coming down her leg, though there couldn't be anything there.

  "Good job," said Gerana, "you can get off her now."

  As soon as Nat's weight was off her legs, Kita scrambled back up to the position she'd never been told to break. Nat lay on the floor next to her, a glazed look in her eyes, breathing heavily.

  "It can open up all sorts of new experiences, is what I'm saying," said Gerana. "I mean, like Terra said, the input is convincing. It can't make the blind see, exactly, but it can leave them pretty sure they've seen."

  "What do you think, Nathiene?" sa
id Balan. "Convinced?"

  “I uh. . .”

  “You haven’t got a penis anymore, Nat,” said Gerana. “And you feel great. Full of energy.”

  “Wow. Yes, okay. There isn’t any fraud here, and this is just about the biggest opportunity we’ve been presented with. If you could—”

  “And now you really want to lick Kita’s pussy, more than anything.” That was Balan talking, but it seemed like he was close enough to the transmitter for it to work.

  Nat pulled herself up by Kita’s thighs, buried her face into Kita’s crotch, and started licking. It felt good; it felt good everywhere Nat was touching her, but oral sex always made Kita a little uncomfortable. At least, receiving it did. And it wasn’t as though complaining would be a good idea.

  The combination of uncomfortable and really good was pushing her ever closer to orgasm, but she couldn’t get there, and she knew she couldn’t get there.

  “Actually,” said Gerana. “Down, Nat. Kita go to your room, and wait on your bed. If anyone comes in for a visit, do what they want and try to make them happy. If anyone pats you on the head and calls you a good girl, orgasm.”

  Kita pulled herself together, and went to her room. She left the door open, though, so she could hear them talking.

  “And that’s another thing,” said Gerana. “It’s not just the collar, right? You can get people to be. . . roll over, Nat, and stick your tongue out.”

  They laughed.

  “You know,” said one of the men. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see . . . how well the collar will work without additional instructions? Purely to test the capabilities of the product, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Balan. “Go ahead.”

  He came into Kita’s room, and pushed her dress up around her neck. Kita mewled, moved under him, melting as he pushed into her. When he was done, he tested how eager she was to suck his thumb, to fuck her doorknob, to try and push her fist up her cunt. And when he was done with that, he left her there, still fucking herself, still not able to come.