When Kara Met Isabel

Isabel was still chuckling as she strode through the doors of the warehouse that they had rented. Within, it was dark. Empty; the kind of place that no one would expect to look. It had taken them days to move their equipment in. Piece by piece and bit by bit so nothing unusual could be traced. Now, at last, the place was outfitted like a machinist’s shop.

As soon as she stepped into the room, the lights flickered on. Burning gas torches hissing with new life as one by one, they flickered into existence. Pump was waiting there. His clothes were burned and torn, but his body was not seriously damaged.

As always, Isabel was humbled by his awesome power. His confidence and mystery never failed to shake her. He was perfect. Perfect in every way. A guardian, a defender, a trusted advisor. Pump was everything that she had ever needed.

And once more he had proven that beyond any shadow of a doubt.

“You got her! You actually got her! Why didn’t you tell me that you were going to do that? I could have helped! How did you even do it? How’d you figure out where she was?”

Pump looked over to her. His clothes were ragged; the false flesh that covered his body was torn and burned in places. She didn’t care. His brasswork internals caught and reflected the light of the torches in a pleasing hue. His motions were smooth, and her machinist’s eye could detect no damage beyond superficial work that would be easily repaired.

“Gearheart,” Mister Pump said. “If you had known what I was planning to do, there is a chance he would have learned it from you.”

“You think I’d give it up?”

“I think he has a talent for people. Mister Gearheart likes to paint himself as blunt and direct. In truth, he is anything but. I had to be sure he would not know until it was too late to stop me.”

“He couldn’t stop you anyway.”

Pump inclined a massive head.

“Most likely. But best not to take risks that can be avoided. Even minor ones. Mister Gearheart was not the target. Kara was. So why should I engage him? It serves no purpose.”

“But how did you find her? We’ve been looking for weeks!”

“That answer also comes down to Gearheart. He is a man of action. I thought he would not sit idle for long. I was correct. He set out to make money. Most likely, he wanted emergency funds in case they had to flee the city. All I had to do was put out the word that I was seeking a mercenary matching his description. After that? I merely followed him back to his home.”

“You followed him?”

Disbelief must have entered her tone because Pump shot her a look that she thought might just be tinged with amusement, though it was always had to tell with the taciturn automaton.

“I am a machine, Isabel. Do not think that I cannot be quiet when I want to be. I do not breathe. I do not make missteps, and when I move, it’s in the exact way that I intend to. A lesser automaton might hiss and whirr, or perhaps you would hear turning cogs and churning gears. But I am silent, and when I wish to be, I am absolutely still.”

“Then you followed him home and what, just waited for me to distract him?”

“Yes. I knew you would. You do not take losing easily. Once you knew you could not find Gearheart, you would attempt to **** a confrontation. He is not a stupid man, but he is arrogant in his own way so I knew he would answer your call. Yet he would not bring Kara.”

“So you used me.”

“Some might choose to see it that way. But it was your goal that I advanced, and it was your request that precipitated my action.”

If it had been anyone else, anyone in the world, Isabel would have been furious that she had been used. She would have screamed and stormed and raged. She would have lashed out.

But this was not anyone else.

“So now we have that slut Kara and Richard doesn’t even know where we are! You turned things from a total mess into a perfect victory.”

“We can continue with the sale.”

“Sale? No, not after all of this. She’s caused far too much trouble at this point to let her get away with just being sold off.”

“The man has paid for her.”

“We’ll return his money. She’s mine and mine alone. Mine to **** and break.”

“I feel this is unwise.”

She ignored that, sweeping past him and moving for the back rooms, away from the main hall. Pump followed in her wake. Anticipation bubbled up inside of her and Isabel felt a sadistic little glee burning in her gut. All of her anger and fury from the conversation with Richard faded into the background. Replaced by a keen and soaring sense of triumph.

This was what she had been waiting for.

This was what she had wanted ever since Kara had gotten away from them before. Selling her was a mistake, Isabel could see that now. It had been tempting to demean her, to humiliate her by selling her as a common whore. But that meant that Isabel wouldn’t be able to punish her personally and she could now see that this result was simply unacceptable.

She would return the money to the client. If they had a problem with that, well, she had Mister Pump and he had a way to deal with problems that made sure they didn’t come up again. Kara would be hers and hers alone.

They turned away from the main corridor, entering a side room which had once belonged to an administrator of some sort. Under Isabel’s tenure, it had been outfitted for a different purpose. There were racks of toys and tools set into the wall. Her whole collection had been stowed here and it was considerable. A large desk had been placed near the corner and it was piled high with mechanical components. Most of them are spares for Pump. To the left, there was a familiar sight. The ****-maker which she’d put Kara in and which Pump had retrieved at the same time as the **** herself. It sat, malevolent and glittering. Fully pulled from the wooden crate and on display for anyone who stepped in.

And in the centre of the room, there was Kara.

She looked uncomfortable; a rope descended from the ceiling, wrapping around her arms and forcing them behind her back. It pulled upwards tightly, while a second rope had been attached to the collar she was wearing. It also pulled upwards, forcing her to the tips of her toes. She’d clearly been standing there for some time. Her body was straining; her legs trembling. Her green eyes flickered towards Isabel as she entered the room, but she said nothing.

Isabel could only gaze at her with lust. Kara had always been a dream when it came to her body. She was slim and toned, not an ounce of extra fat. Her breasts were soft, and her nipples were sensitive. Her legs were long and smooth, and Isabel could well remember how Kara had moaned and wriggled as she ran her fingers down them.

But that had been then. Before all this. Before the betrayal. When they had worked together, played together, explored each other and the joys of submission.

Do you remember that? Isabel wondered, gazing at her former friend. Do you remember the fun we had? Do you remember the pleasure? Those long nights? Trading control, submission and dominance? Do you remember what it was like to be on the same side?

Her thoughts were tinged with regret, melancholy and sadness. But she banished that side of herself as she always did when it invaded her mind. Regardless of what she felt, there was no going back. There was no way to undo what had been done, no do what should have been done.

“Isabel…” Kara spoke at last.

It was characteristic of her that even naked and in bondage, she still refused to be cowed. She glared.

“I see you’re still far too dependent on Pump.”

“I see you’ve recovered your memories,” Isabel said. “We’ll have to do something about that again. Later.”

“Most of them. Enough to know what’s going on.”

Kara wriggled, her body shifting in the bondage, inciting a primal excitement that Isabel found hard to suppress. She stalked to the table, her hand closing around one of her favourite tools.

“You shouldn’t have tried to take him from me.”

“You shouldn’t have turned him into a monster.”

“I was trying to save you! Surely even you can see how far you’ve fallen? Isabel, think of who you used to be!”

Isabel snarled, turning away from the table with her tool in hand. Her eyes were wild, her mouth narrowed into a sneer.

“Who I used to be? You killed that girl! Who I am now is your fault! You did this!”

Kara recoiled as if she had been stuck.

“That’s not true, you made your own decisions. You took a masterpiece and twisted it into an abomination.”

“Pump is more now than he ever was under you. And I am not responsible for what you have done just because I tried to stop you.”

“Are you not?”

A coiling whip slithered along the floor. The leather handle fit snugly in Isabel’s palm. Kara tried not to look at it, but she couldn’t help but follow its progress from the corner of her eyes.

“If you had helped me… if you had been the friend you were supposed to be… none of this would have happened.”

“What was I supposed to do, Isabel? Help you kill people? Throw away everything we both believed in? You know damn well that Pump is just a machine! You’re a machinist like me! Pump is a replacement!”

“Enough!”

Isabel cracked the whip, the feral sound split the room but Kara refused to be cowed.

“No matter how you try to pretend otherwise, Pump will never be him.”