He grabbed at her cheeks and she instinctively spun around. “Hey!”
Bindinelli looked up at her in shock. He’d done this many times before and wasn’t used to the resistance. “Okay, this is your last warning. Do you want to do this or not? I’ve got a couple other girls I could’ve made appointments with but I set aside this time for you. The next fucking time you piss me off we’re done. You can park this tight little ass in your cell for the rest of your stay here, class or no class.”
Maximillia wanted to deck him and it took every iota of her self-control to deny herself this. She finally straightened up, eyes forward, face tense and slowly spun back around, her ass level with his face. He rubbed his hands together, licking his lips in giddy anticipation as he clasped his grubby paws around her delicious cheeks and began to knead them. He couldn’t see, but she was grinding her teeth, eyes forward in defeated indignation. He continued to just stare in awe at her ass, squeezing her luscious globes with a stunned fascination. His massaging became so firm and insistent that she had to lean forward and grab the countertop in front of her for purchase.
The despicable tub leaned forward, nearly slobbering at this point and buried his face between her tight cheeks. Nuzzling his fat, greasy face betwixt her warm flesh, he just imbibed in the sensation of being partially buried in her. He let one of his hands free to wander back to his partially-erect nubbin as he began to curl his tongue up her ass crack, much to her dismay. He stroked his cock faster and harder, his breathing growing heavier to where he was emitting these low, growly mutterings.
Suddenly, he stood up, possessed by an animalistic urgency. “Bend over! Bend over!”
She obeyed, hoping this debacle would soon be at an end. He scooted forward, fisting his erection mere inches from her ass, caressing it with his free hand until he began to let loose the familiar short gasps that signaled an impending orgasm. With a desperate wheeze he thrust out his hips and a streaming gush of hot seed squirted out the tip of his needly cock and splashed against her bare ass in thick globs.
Finally having expelled the last drop of his semen, he stood back, his chest heaving and gazed at the beautiful sight of her cum-drizzled ass.
“Can you clean me off, please?” she asked, annoyed.
“Yeah, yeah!” he said through labored breaths as he scuttled off, pants still around his ankles and returned with a large napkin that he proceeded to wipe her down with.
She quickly hiked up her panties and sweat pants. “Are we done?” she asked with a stewing defiance. “Can I go back to my cell?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course. Whew!” he exclaimed, chortling. “You have got to have the sweetest fucking ass I’ve ever seen.”
“When does the first class start?”
“Tomorrow. Room 12B. Be there at 0930," he huffed.
Maximillia lowered her head and strode out of the room, her hands bound into fists so tight that her nails nearly broke the skin of her palms.
She spent the next hour in her cell, thoroughly taking a towel that had been soaked in hot water, and scrubbing the remnants of Bindinelli’s seed off of her bare ass. The only true way to rid herself of the repulsive film that had absorbed into her skin would’ve been to take a torch to it, but she wasn’t prepared to commit such self-destruction to cleanse herself of him. She tended to this most foul task without so much as stirring the deep sleep of her cellmates. Her defilement would remain a secret.
***
The next day, she was up and out of her cell, primed and ready for the 0930 class. She was privately optimistic. This was the kind of opportunity she’d never had the pleasure of taking advantage of. Maximillia wasn’t sure how she’d take to the terminal repair classes, though, because, after all, she wasn’t one who naturally thrived in situations where consistent routines were involved.
The VR training pods were out-dated by several generations, but sufficient for her needs. There were half a dozen other girls there who enrolled and seemed just as determined as her. At least she wasn’t alone, she thought. Upon climbing in and accessing the instructional program the class begun.
Maximillia’s initial fears were apparently unfounded because she happened to comprehend the quantum state language—the computing language of the terminals—eerily well in a strangely serendipitous revelation. It could’ve been that she adopted the analytical prowess needed for navigating the digital realm from her father and his mechanical wizardry. If so, it’d be just one more thing she could’ve thanked him for.
Each student could control the speed of each lesson and Maximillia opted for the accelerated version whereas some of the other students languished at the normal pace and, for a few of them, the decelerated format. She took to the lessons with a natural’s flair, cruising through the basic theory, technical instruction and advanced application portions. Two weeks into the syllabus, she went into the class and attempted to begin her training via a VR pod, but it denied her access. She suspected the culprit and stomped off towards Bindinelli’s office. There he sat, cramming a handful of cheesy crumples—a popular snack—into his thoroughly pitted face.
“I tried to access the training pod for my class, but it wouldn’t let me in,” she said, quietly agitated.
“Oh yeah?” he grumbled through a mouth full of food.
“Why can’t I get in? Did you do something?”
“Well, I do offer a service. Services need to be paid for. Your last payment was, what? Two weeks ago? Payment’s due.”
She sighed. “When?”
“Tonight. Same place. Same time.”
“Can you at least unlock my pod so I can finish today’s class?”
He let his fingers crawl across the holographic control panel for a brief moment before looking up at her. “Better move that little ass if you don’t want to miss it.”
She was teetering on the edge, her patience supremely tested. Biting her tongue, she slowly turned to leave.
“Don’t forget our date tonight,” he reminded and she stomped off. “And don’t bother wearing panties.”
That night, as promised, Maximillia begrudgingly showed up for their clandestine rendezvous. As she approached the resource management office she noticed a diminutive Tarian girl coming out, tears streaming down her face, her arms crossed protectively against her chest. They exchanged glances as she rushed past Maximillia. Another one of Bindinelli’s customers, no doubt.
She fulfilled her duties, letting the gnomish pudge bend her over a table and worm his sorry excuse for a knob into her dry crevice. He remarked about the amount of lube he had to coat her pussy with to make the fuck possible. She remained constructively silent. Hearing him labor to plant his seed into her was enough to force her to quietly dry heave, thankfully hidden from his gaze, should he notice and possibly obstruct her future educational aspirations.
Having worked up a vigorous sweat, the wheezing Bindinelli shook spasmodically, tightening his grip on her hips as he spurted his gooey warmth into her. “Fuck!” he exclaimed through labored breaths.
Maximillia escaped the office with her lube and cum-infested cunt drooling with his juices, leaving his carnal appetite temporarily slaked; a sick, self-satisfied rictus grin was plastered across his filthy mug. She used the time out of her cell to sneak into the showers and wash off not only the unwanted fluids, but to also drown her shame. It didn’t work.
The sickening bi-monthly routine of nightly trysts with Bindinelli continued twice more when a particularly cunning ember of an idea ignited a conflagration in her mind. During her next class, she investigated the protocols for hacking into the type of terminal that was in the resource management office. Via the archives in the training pod, she familiarized herself with the model of terminal that Bindinelli used: its operating system, location of subroutine programming and security measures. The security wing’s terminals could have real-time video feeds from anywhere in the facility routed into their network. Since the administrative wing was meant to be offline during that time the s
ecurity feeds would be shut off. Maximillia knew this now. A plotting smirk rose. Their unofficial “meetings” always took place at the same place and same time. It was like clockwork, painfully predictable.
As expected, Maximillia was at the resource management office at 1300. Thankfully, Bindinelli was also there, as usual. Her plan was germinating in her mind, sizzling in anticipation, desperate to be employed.
He looked up from his terminal. She glanced over and noticed he was watching a video of a well-hung thoran face-fucking a petite female human who looked similar to her, apart from the chopped blonde locks.
“Alright,” he announced. “Let’s get this party started.”
“One quick thing. I haven’t eaten all day and I’m really hungry. Can you run down to the automat and grab me something?”
He chuckled. “What am I? Your waiter?”
“We’ve been doing this for months now and I think I’ve been pretty receptive to everything you’ve asked me to do. I haven’t ever asked you to do anything extra for me. I just really want something to eat.”
He still wasn’t sold. She knew she needed to employ her profoundly effective wiles. She slithered up to him and rested a soft hand on his thigh. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise,” she whispered in a masterful performance.
Bindinelli could only sit back, stiff as a board, eyes agape, mouth hanging open. He was sold. “Yeah, yeah. Why not?” he responded in a state of perplexed wonderment. He rose from his seat. “What do you want?”
“Anything. Something hot and mouth-watering,” she purred with a decidedly beguiling weight. He was mesmerized.
“I’m on it. I’ll be back in a few,” he stammered, practically tripping over his own feet as he scuttled off.
The second he was around the corner, her scowl returned. “Knobby-dicked little fucker."
Maximillia quickly swung around and took his seat, manning the terminal. Her hands were a darting blur, zipping about the holographic control board. Within moments she’d accessed the system’s security command shell’s user interface.
The weeks of painstakingly finding the time to study the resource management office terminals—along with her course’s formal didactics—were not spent in vain. She cracked into the somewhat sparse list of subroutines and found the access protocols controlling the video feeds to the security wing. They’d been switched off for the afterhours shift close. Her fingers skittered about the holographic panel, dropping commands en masse.
She looked over her shoulder, but the corridor was thankfully vacant. Bindinelli was still held up in the cafeteria. Within moments she entered the request to open the video channel from the office to the security wing. She set the subroutine to begin broadcasting the feed recorded by the office’s ambient environmental scanners in mere minutes, just when Bindinelli would be returning. The security droids, and the organic on duty, would see and hear everything the subsequent tryst would reveal. To ensure the efficacy of the act, she also commanded the terminal to send a copy of the feed to the facility administrator’s office. She concluded the preparation stage of her stratagem and returned the terminal back to showing Bindinelli’s smut.
Maximillia hopped up from the terminal, without a shred of evidence to convict her, and stood in her original position, looking as inconspicuous as possible when her foul admirer returned, food in hand. He was all smiles, a wretched, wound-up mess. He was ready to dip his wick and handed the food to her with shaky hands.
“How about you eat after I have my dessert?” he asked in a sad, tumbling attempt at being charming.
She glanced over at the terminal and noticed the obscure green light flicker alive that designated that the environmental security scanners were in operation.
Two floors above, the security droids were in position before the mosaic wall of real-time security feeds being piped in from multiple sectors on the compound. No discernible activity. Then, the originally deactivated administrative channel flickered on. One of the droids noticed and watched with silent intellection.
Maximillia set the tray down. “How much longer are we going to have to do this? The course lasts another few years. You don’t expect me to have to come up here and fuck you twice a month for the next few years, do you?”
He flashed his gaping, toothy grin; flecks of food were wedged in between his yellowed chompers. “Hey, I’m an opportunist. This job pays shit, but the perks are amazing,” he chuckled, eyeing her taut, luscious body.
“How many girls are you extorting? I’m just curious.”
“Look at you. All curious now.”
“C’mon, you’ve got to be proud of your position. These girls don’t have much of a choice, do they? So, how many?”
“Right now? I don’t know, half a dozen? This cute little tarian bitch, a couple thorans who are worth the climb, that tight gnorat in B-wing, a couple other humans... and you,” he bragged.
“How long you been at this little scheme of yours for?”
“Like I said, this job pays shit. I started at this a few years ago and haven’t gotten many no-shows. I’d say my success rate is at around ninety percent. That’s what’s great about being a gatekeeper. You get to name your price.”
“So, if I want to keep taking my class, we have to keep doing this?”
He stepped forward, sliding his hand up and down her side. She flinched, inching away. “You’ve got nowhere else to go. I’m your guy. And, hey, it’s not like you’re not getting anything out of this. You get to attend that class. Try to make a better life for yourself, and all you have to do is entertain me twice a month. Is that really so bad?” he said, his rotten breath burning her nostrils. “So, c’mon. Help a guy out. I’ll give you something to drink before you eat. What do you say?”
She knew that eyes and ears were on them so she had to play along. “I don’t know if I want to anymore.”
Not the answer he wanted to hear. He grabbed her fiercely by the arm, growling through gritted teeth. “No, you do. You’re just not thinking straight. You do.”
She feigned fear, knowing she could flip this tubby twerp onto his back and smash his nose into oblivion, but acted at being the brittle wallflower. “Let go of me.”
“Oh, so now you want me to play rough? I can play rough,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and slowly pushing her to her knees. He undid the flap on his pants and worked out his length-deficient member, threatening her face with it. She turned away at first, but he twisted her back towards it and forcefully fisted his meat past her lips.
Maximillia played the now unwilling partner, groaning with her mouth stuffed with cock. Fueled by her defiance, he grabbed the sides of her head and began to rapaciously face-fuck her. In her mind, she begged the security droids to bust in. She knew they were watching and just had to hope.
He finally extracted his cock, eliciting from her a desperate gasp for air. He loomed proudly over her, gloating with a vicious smile.
“I’ve got something for you to drink and you’re going to swallow every drop.”
She shook her head.
“I’m not swallowing.”
“Yeah, you are,” he said, before guiding his pathetic cock back past her lips, a disgusting, self-satisfied grin on his face.
He ravaged her at a quickening pace, the sensation rising in his balls. Suddenly, he clutched the back of her head and held his cock firmly trapped in her mouth as he shot ropes of goo against the back of her throat, forcing her to gag.
“Swallow it!” he demanded, but she turned away and coughed, spitting out the viscous filth. Angrily, he reached down and grabbed her by the throat.
“Hold it right there!” the security officer exclaimed, a blaster tight in his grip aimed dead at Bindinelli and flanked by the security droids. Bindinelli leapt in surprise, stumbling back and raising his hands in surrender as Maximillia lay crumpled, portraying the frail victim as best she could.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” the officer shouted.
“
Uhh—" was all Bindinelli could utter.
Maximillia, still the actress, reached out to the security officer. “Help me, please...”
The droids stepped in and helped her to her feet, silently tending to her as the officer strode forward and pinned Bindinelli against the wall with his forearm pressed against his throat.
“I got a call from the administrator. The feed in here got routed to him. The recorders saw and heard everything! You are in the deepest shit, my friend. The deepest shit.”
The look of pure, unadulterated terror smeared across Bindinelli’s face was priceless: glassy eyes, quivering lips, that awkward, petrified stance, and his already pitiful dick shriveled up and practically cowering up into his pelvis. Maximillia wanted nothing more than to laugh in his face, but she couldn’t. The officer slapped magna-cuffs on the perpetrator and drug him out. She allowed herself a vengeful grin.
The dragon had been slain and the gate slung open.
With that bit of inconvenience swept aside, Maximillia reintegrated back into her diverted course. The classes proceeded, uninterrupted. She exploited every possible available minute of instructional time and sought out the comfort of the training pods whenever the administration allowed.
In a bit of karmic justice, Angel Falls, seeking to remunerate Maximillia for her undo interactions with Bindinelli under the state’s watch, allowed her to pursue her educational aspirations with nearly unlimited admission. As a security droid stood watch in one of the classrooms, she sat enthralled in a training pod, soaking in the trickling data-streams. Her determination would no longer be deterred.
Weeks turned into months, months stretched into a year, and one year stretched into three. Her instructors considered her a savant. She earned her certification in half the time it typically would take students. Near the end of her studies she was informally teaching other fellow inmates. Word went up the food chain to the administrative heads of the parole board about her positive constructive development. She only had four months left on her sentence when she received word that the parole board was holding a special hearing in regards to her case.
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