Vigilante Dominatrix.

My name is Chloe Neon, the year is 2173 and man has moved into space, leaving earth as a place where only the poor live. Population controls are in effect and capital punishment is widely used, in most places life is cheap, but it is no dystopia… yet.

I have a good job at an A.I company, programming heuristic algorithms, and occasional grunt work, I was currently dressed rather boringly, drab colours, bad makeup, and strategically tight clothes gave me an uninteresting figure, nobody gave me a second glance, and assumed 'boring Chloe' was in her 40-50's I was actually in my 70's but after stepping out of a shower would look mid 20's, thanks to modern gene technology, and had been around long enough to be promoted to the top, but I chose to run the company from the middle, as a tech, rather than from the top.

The time came and I clocked out, and slid away. My car was a old model sedan, at least 10-20 years old, didn't look like much but was modified to perform better, and look worse than most.

I got home, and my home computer chimed a welcome. Text appeared in my vision as my home A.I connected to my neural implants; with a thought my hair clothes shifted, and the drab disappeared as the tension in my clothes shifted and they fell off, making my hourglass figure return. All I was wearing now was a suspender belt, stockings, and a pair of sexy heels that adjusted as I walked across the room.

My house was on a hill, and I had a large window that overlooked the city, and a leather chair/throne that I sat in. I lifted my arms as a corset slid around me and was pulled tight.

I turned and my personal **** was standing next to me with coffee and fruit on a tray, I took the coffee and he knelt waiting for instruction, that then came as a small picture floating in his vision, he instantly moved.

I looked down as he knelt at my feet facing me, with his hands behind his back, I slid a stiletto heel into the end of his cock cage, down his shaft, and crossed my ankles using his lap as a footstool.

"So, Seventeen. What have we got?"

He pulled his hands out and started to gesture bringing up information that floated in the air.

"We have results on a 2 of the 8, Mistress." And he started to rattle off information for my 'hobby' as pictures and evidence scrolled past.

8 women, kidnapped over the course of two months, and we had some data on them, because I had a bank of high spec computers hacking into databases and CCTV footage all over the city, running facial recognition software, and tracking down kidnaps and tracing their steps, then their kidnappers.

"I believe, Mistress that this man has one of the captured females!" A picture of a slimy looking man stared back at me. "A Titus Harcourt, Mistress."

"Well, That is good work, work went okay today but you have made my day, Seventeen, thank you."

He smiled. Seventeen wasn't captured, we found each other and he had offered himself as my ****, he had even wrote the contract, and I was surprised at how much he was prepared to take, but I had got accustomed to it and he had become part of the furniture, and he loved it. I had also came to trust him greatly, and he was accompanying me in my 'hobby' and being a very helpful sidekick.

My coffee table turned into a war map where maps and helpful information appeared, as I planned an exploratory raid.

When we had all we needed, I was excited to begin, we got ready to go, I showered and lubricated my body while Seventeen got ready, I went to my closet and my suit was being held open by machine arms, like a cocoon waiting to be filled, with Seventeen next to it on his knees. I pushed my pussy into his face, and he licked me eagerly, then as an orgasm built inside me he stopped, normally a punishable offence but this was different, I always hunted frustrated, the pleasure was a reward for a successful hunt. I turned and slid into my cocoon and it enfolded me perfectly, a second skin that could absorb light, change my skin colour clothes, anything, with a thought.

The utility harnesses wrap my thighs and hips, they carry all manner of equipment and can project images.

I turn to Seventeen, looking glamorous, with a white lace cravat, red crocodile leather jacket, red leather leggings and suede platform stilettoes.

I give his ass a light slap, and say: