Melodia's bad week

Melodia dutifully reports to you later that evening in the dungeon. “I’m sorry mistress, I failed.” She hangs her head in shame.

You withdraw the strap-on from Bellextra who slumps in her cage, exhausted after another day of testical shocks, titty whippings, and anal ****. “Tut, tut Melodia, you know what this means.”

“Yes mistress.” she dutifully offers her wrist for binding. Normally you don’t find willing submission so sexy (you prefer a struggle afterall), but the way she sticks out her lower lip, moans sensually when you restrain her wrist in soft cuffs, and trembles as you insert her denial vibrators inside her plush pussy really makes you want to go another five orgasms with someone. Still, if you fucked her now it wouldn’t be punishment.

“Melodia, you’ll get another chance tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy Bellextra’s predicament,” you say as you gently place her in a cage next to Bellextra.

In spite of her larger size, Bellextra is in a smaller cage, the cold metal pressing against her **** skin. Where you were sweet and tender with Melodia, you were sadistic and terrible to Bellextra. The slut's supple tits bulge under the ropes pulling them to her knees, forcing her into a ball tie. The tension on the two crimson orbs is enhanced by the binding of her arms, which you have threaded through the bars on top of the cage, pulling her up and back. On all sides her flesh presses against the bars. In her mouth is a cock shaped feeding tube, which occasionally spurts a nutripaste mixed with her own cum inside her mouth. You don’t want her to starve after all.

“I’ll get it tomorrow mistress,” Melodia whispers as you close the door.

“Of course you will.”

The next day…

“I’m sorry mistress,” Melodia says softly as she squirms in the armbinder. “I thought I had it.”

“I’m not worried about it.” You finish strapping the binder tight and frog-march her towards a sybian. “Down you go now.” Melodia obediently lets you lock her in for the night. You’ve strategically positioned Melodia’s vibrating perch so that she is across from Bellextra; all the better to "incentivize" her.

The strapping amazon has been strapped into a bolero straight jacket, the black leather framing her red tits magnificently. In her ass, a dildo the size of your forearm is mimicking the sound and energy of a beehive while her cock is being milked by a chrome tube that pumps semen through a hose into a clear tank next to her. Bellextra groans are suddenly interrupted with a sharp crack; the electric shock triggered by her orgasm forces her prostate to contract, squeezing her semen through the tube. The mostly empty tank barely fills. At this rate, it will take Bellextra an entire night of **** orgasms to fill it. Melodia licks her lips in envy.

You press a button and Melolodia’s sybian hums to life, eliciting a sweet gasp. “How long will I be like this mistress?”

“All night silly.” A lie of course. A sleep deprived Melodia is a useless Melodia. A terrified Melodia is a motivated Melodia. It’s enough to edge her for an hour or two and then inject a sleep agent by way of her **** collar. It will feel like eternity, and she gets a full eight hours. Of course if Melodia thinks she passed out from the exhaustion of a never ending ordeal, well.... You finish securing her. “If you want to trade places with Bellextra over there, you better crack the code on that data pad.”

She whimpers softly as you leave the two for the night.

Two days later…

“Okay, it's just a simple recrypting algorithm that uses non-euclidean physics as a stand in for a key. I got to hand it to these guys at the federation, that was some pretty clever code-work. But now that I have their system figured out, it's just a matter of time.”

“Yeah, seeing as how I didn’t know what most of that meant...” You work the ring gag into her mouth.

“Ah’ll ‘ehk’ eh’!” She pouts. You push her back so she lies against the horizontal cross. Tenderly but forcefully you ratchet the straps down so she can't move, but not so tight it will restrict blood flow. You need not make such considerations with Bellextra. That robust Iah Kuruh biology means you can really make those straps dig into her flesh, which is good for what comes next. With a press of a button, Bellextra’s cross flips up over Melodia’s on robotic arms so her heavy tits and meaty schlong hang above Melodia. The two slaves positions are inverted so that Melodia lies on her back while Bellextra is upside down, and they have nowhere else to look but each other's crotch. Bellextra's tip is inches away from Melodia, so close the pixie haired **** girl can almost taste the succulent meat. “Mmmmhhh,” they wine in unison.

Melodia can only stare helplessly as a a piston mounted onahole, painfully clamped in place, begins to rapidly stroke up and down Bellextra's blood sausage. Melodia’s open mouth lies just beneath Bellextra’s crotch, ready to catch all the droppings from Bellextra's all night molestation. Semen slurping was part of what lead to Bellextra’s enslavement in the first place, and you suspect that it holds a a special place in Melodia's heart. Of course, she normally she's allowed an orgasm while she’s gurgling cum.

“Don’t feel bad Melodia. Tomorrows another day.”

A few days later…

“Five more minutes! Just give me five more minutes!”

“You said that ten minutes ago.” You haven’t had to work this hard to restrain Melodia since… well, ever. When you first caught her she didn’t have the chance or the skills to fight back and ever since then resistance has been token at best. But after a week of frustration both sexual and technical, she has been endowed with a wildcat's fury.

She squirms and bucks and kicks in a manic attempt to keep working on the datapad. You like your **** girls feisty but this is ridiculous. At the last minute you duck beneath a flailing elbow as you redirect her momentum into a grappler's grip, pinning her arm behind her.

“No! No! I’m going to figure this out if it kills me!”

“Kick me one more time and it won’t have the chance!” Somehow between her serpentine wigglings you manage to **** one wrist into cuffs and lock it to the other. “Now knock it off! You’re coming with me.” You drag her out of her makeshift workshop in the engine room to the dungeon.

Once there, you find Bellextra much like you left her. Well, not quite. Since you left, the auto mummifier has successfully transformed Bellextra into a red sex burrito. Only her fun bits are left exposed, which gives you something to play with while Melodia replaces her in the entangling engine. You swap her with Melodia and the devious device begins its work anew, blissfully indifferent to Melodia’s continued protests.

Bellextra moans softly as you set her on the floor. Today she was particularly rebellious so you’re giving her a particularly cruel toy. Gently, deliberately, sadistically, you slide a crystalline sounding-rod down her urethra. It is made from quite an exotic material that reverberates with nearby sound. Whenever a soundwave passes through the saphire sliver, it reverberates at subsonic frequency for twenty-seven times the duration of the original noise. A dull throbbing only heard by the most sensitive of ears, or felt by the most tender of cocks.

You thought that number was odd when you bought it on Vidor IXX, so you asked the merchant you bought it from “Why twenty-seven? That seems random.”

“Quantum physics,” he had said with a knowing wink. You didn’t argue.

The mummifier finishes with Melodia. You can just make out the coded scripts she is spitting past her gag. Something about garbled allegory, or maybe a giga-crypted logarithm. It’s hard to tell with the gag, and you really don’t care about coding all that much. What you do care about, is how desperately Bellextra starts thrashing when you put the whining Melodia next to her. Blissfully unaware of the sound based **** Bellextra is being made to endure, Melodia continues her very vocal tirade against the infernal datapad.

Truthfully, you’re starting to get a little worried about her. Melodia has always been… well Melodia. Even when tied down, whipped senseless and over fucked she’s always maintained that indefinable quality, that je ne se quoi, that guarantees you will never turn her over to the Syndicate, or sell her to the Iollians, or trade her to clear your debt with some backwater loan shark, no matter how many times you threaten to do all of those things. But since starting this project, she’s been a little manic and part of you is getting worried.

Ah well. It’s surely a passing thing. With a shrug you turn on the denial vibrators. She’ll feel better about it in the morning.

The next day...

“Melodia, put the wrench down…”

“Ohh no. Not today. Today is the day Natalia.” It's never a good sign when she calls you Natalia. “Today, it’s either me, or Paddi.” Ultimatums delivered to inanimate objects are also a red flag.

“Did you… name it?”

“Stay out of this! This is between me and Paddi.” Her knuckles go white as she clutches the wrench. You try to slowly circle around, a difficult task given the state of the room. As the week has gone by, the engineering workshop where Melodia has set up shop has become crisscrossed with wires and equipment. It never occurred to you to question why she needed the arc welder, but now that you look at it, it hovers over the datapad threateningly. The same way you suspend an oversized fucking machine over some beta bitch's ass when they have information you want. Come to think of it, you’ve terrorized Melodia the exact same way to great effect. Not to mention… Paddi is locked in place with an unnecessary amount of clamps and belts on that table. You suppose it makes sense that she would remove the outer casing to try to access the hardware, but somehow it seems... naked? What has she been doing?

“Okay, Melodia, I think this has gone on long enough.”

“Oh,” she coos, “I’ll tell Paddi when it’s had enough.” It’s the same soft whisper a viper sings to a mouse. You’ve tortured mob bosses and warlords. Gone to insane lengths to pick apart the psyches of the innocent and guilty alike. Never before today have you thought you went to far.

“Look, Melodia, just... Just relax." Internally you curse yourself for leaving all your equipment in the arsenal. You came from the dungeon and are dressed appropriately, which is to say wearing nothing but a strap on. Sure you have your whip, but it was your plane old leather whip. Not your capture whip. Even still, you can almost certainly subdue Melodia. You're just worried that will exacerbate the problem. Besides, the way she's speaking and looking at Paddi (you can't believe your calling it that, even internally), this is starting to remind you a little too much of a hostage situation. "Tell you what, tonight we'll skip the dungeon. I got a bottle of wine somewhere, we can spaceflix and chill for the night. I know you want that.”

“And what? Let Paddi win?” She gesticulates wildly as she speaks, her pupils bulging to meet her whites. “Nonononono NO! I’ll wear it down yet! I’ll outsmart it!”

“Hey, hey, hey, its okay. You just need a fresh start. Maybe some help? We can fly out of here in the morning-

“Help? Help! You think some backwater cyber-punk can handle this? Do you know what I've done to crack this thing? she swings her wrench menacingly towards the bound datapad. "I fucking wrote code that would make your eyes bleed! I did everything short of physically ripping this thing apart to see what is inside! What the fuck is some hack hacker going to do? Type in password123?"

“Password accepted,” says an entirely nonplussed Paddi.

There is a pause that stretches towards oblivion.

“Melodia, put the wrench- Oh gods!”