I yawned as I stared at my screen. A normal Friday evening, right? The girl in the video was jerking around, convulsing in her restraints until she finally came to a shuddering stop, appearing to gasp for breath. I pondered and hummed, surveying an array of buttons in front of me. My own custom little keyboard. I was really quite proud of it. I pressed the yellow one, and the girl started jerking wildly once more. Unlike how television usually portrayed it, electricity didn’t really come with visible shocks and bright flashes of light, which I admit was just a little bit disappointing the first time I had experimented with it. With the sound off, with no visual indicator of what was happening? It really was like pressing a button and making her dance. I clapped my fingers in glee.
A normal Friday evening indeed.
I wasn’t always like this, you know. What can I say? Power corrupts. You start out with one innocuous suggestion, realize it works, and wonder what else you can suggest, what else you can get away with. You wonder how long-term the suggestions can be. You wonder how to reinforce them, you wonder how to make it more efficient. Eventually, you just think about how to do it all without having to do it yourself. Eventually you just kind of build a whole system of sorts to break people down for you. And sometimes get other people to break people down for you. And all you have to do is press the buttons. Sure, you lift a finger or two, but it’s minimal.
I turned on the sound while simultaneously pushing the yellow button once more. Rationally, I knew she was begging and pleading for ‘No more’, but it was really starting to sound like she was emphasizing the ‘more’ and screaming for more, more, more. And I’m nothing if not benevolent. I pressed a red button - the one in the top-left corner, she probably wasn’t ready for that one in the bottom-right.
Her eyes widened as her previously-clenched fists began to loosen, her fingers splayed and trembling. Her mouth opened and closed and opened and closed, her voice paralyzed, unable to make any sound beyond soft groans and whimpers. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her hips started bucking, straining at her bindings, uncontrollably so.
I cut off the scream of pleasure that almost sounded like it was being ripped out of her chest as I muted the screen once more. She was already done for. By evening she’d be begging me for something she couldn’t even articulate, whimpering and pleading and grinding against my leg.
They all did.
I couldn’t seem to escape my boredom. Capture another girl, do it again. Capture a different girl, do it a bit differently. Either way, it had started to get repetitive, and my interest started dwindling at a rapid pace that even kidnapping girls couldn’t keep up with.
I tapped a microphone and spoke into it, instructing others to clean the new girl’s mess up and toss her with the others for her final mind break. Usually I’d delight in seeing somebody’s sanity just snap for good, but I wasn’t quite feeling it tonight.
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t quite realized the time until it started growing dark and the natural light began to dim. I wasn’t really anticipating on staying so late. I cleaned up my area and got ready to head back home. A part of me smirked at the thought of treating all of… this… as someone would any other full-time job. As I walked to the elevator, I realized what a privilege boredom truly was - it wasn’t like I had the most difficult job, and you’d be hard pressed to call my job uneventful or dull. Without even meaning to, wholly on a whim, I pressed the button for the cell I often kept for the captives. Maybe I’d take a little detour before home.
Running my fingers along the metal tables and cuffs, I marveled at my reflection in them. Upkeep was marvelous. The cleaning staff (as if they had any choice not to) did a stellar job. Moments before, it had been stained with all manners of juices and liquids, and now it was…pristine. Perfect.
I stared at the electrode that earlier this evening had been firmly attached to my latest acquisition. I knew it wasn’t live, but still I hesitated to touch it. Finally, I touched at it lightly with just a finger, running it along the smooth feeling of metal. It wasn’t cold at all – still warm, even. I shivered. This electrode had broken down another girl just earlier. Yet like this, it felt so…insignificant.
…Which made the sudden spark that much more surprising and alarming. I jumped away and landed on my back, the air suddenly knocked out of me. Was that a misfire? I looked at my bag on the floor beside me, the custom control keyboard sticking out. No, I must have pressed it against the table when I leaned too close. I took it out to inspect it, made sure it hadn’t broken or otherwise needed repairs, but it was fine. Of course it was. I made it, after all.
The shock had not been…painful, or unpleasant. My fingers tingled with a warm numbness, like electricity was still coursing through them.
Really, it wasn’t as if the thought had never occurred to me, but this was the first time it felt like more than just a product of boredom, more than just a stray thought.
For the first time, I contemplated using it on myself.
The green button shut down all activity, I reminded myself. There had to be some failsafe, after all. If… If I really wanted to, I could…
I shook my head.
Was I an idiot? I must be, to think about using it on myself.
But I was different. Wasn’t I? I was the mastermind. I was the one who had built this entire system from the ground up. I wasn’t like those other girls. I wasn’t helpless. I wasn’t naturally submissive, just waiting for my will to be broken, like so many of them were, like so many of them claimed to be as they longed to be closer to me, to touch me, to beg me for more. I was stronger than them.
That was the thought that I took comfort in as I hopped up on the table and cautiously stretched my body out in the same fashion so many girls before me had been forced to. I latched cuffs over both of my feet and only one of my wrists, the other free to press and override if need be. I situated the keyboard over my chest, in my bag, in a way that guaranteed I wouldn’t be able to shake it loose. I tested the green override button, and confirmed that it undid all of the cuffs. I cuffed my legs and wrist once more, and finally around my neck.
I took a deep breath.
I pressed the yellow button.
Almost immediately, the electricity began to course through my veins, not exactly electricity, whatever I had programmed it to be, whatever made me feel so fucking warm and numb and good so fucking good and PAINFUL in a way that made my nerves come alive with both pain and pleasure in equal parts. I remembered being bored that electricity didn’t come with bright lights and zaps, externally, but feeling it was a whole different experience that left my eyes swimming with bright lights and blurred focus.
I realized I had only pressed the button briefly before letting it go, but the aftereffects felt like they lasted for ages after. I panted and gasped for air as I made sure the keyboard was still within arm’s reach. Good.
I wasn’t quite willing to leave, not just yet. Especially not after experiencing… that. I felt my heartbeat quicken, a blush rising.
This was wonderful.
No wonder it always did so well in breaking girls down.
I wondered what else I could do. It was apparent that I wouldn’t be able to hold down the button for more than a second before I started jerking uncontrollably, but I wasn’t comfortable doing much else other than electricity. At least not for tonight. At least not without more future planning. Reluctantly, my shaky hand hovered over the green button. For now. I’d be able to return tomorrow.
Clearly, the electricity hadn’t completely left my system, and I watched in horror as my finger twitched and hit the red button in the top-left corner.
At least it wasn’t the other red button, my thoughts barely formed, before I felt a sting in my wrist and pressure as something was injected into my arm.
I screamed, and screamed, and screamed until my voice grew hoarse and pained, my eyes rolled back into my head and wouldn’t come back, pressure building in my head, liquid lust being scattered all throughout my body as I tore at my restraints with all of my raw strength to no avail. More, more, more, more more more MORE MORE I couldn’t help but laugh wildly, couldn’t stop bucking my hips, all I could do was grip the table with my fingers as I tried to bear the intense overwhelming sensation of pleasure and failed, as more of me screamed from the deepest parts of my soul, as my thoughts fizzled and burnt out and dripped out of me, as tears and drool began to course down my chin.
And it didn’t stop. Every nerve ending was lit up with pleasure and sensation, every piece of me was burning with a raw need for MORE MOREMORE more MORE as the words slipped through my trembling lips, more, more more, more…
I remembered making the drug. I was very proud of it. So sure no one would ever be able to resist it. But I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t like those girls who would so easily submit to chemicals rewriting their thoughts, feelings, emotions, needs. I made the damn thing.
I could press the green button. But I could also…
No. I didn’t even do it to most of the girls. It would have been too much. Overdosing was definitely a problem.
But was I most other girls?
My body knew the answer before my mind did. Or perhaps it was the building need and addiction within me. My tears made it hard to see that I had pressed the red button in the bottom right-hand corner, but I knew that I had once I felt two red-hot sharp stings in my neck. Almost like a love bite. I let out a half-whimper, a half-giggle.
My last thought was how I should have done this so much earlier, and being annoyed at how loud the screaming was, before my vision went white and my consciousness shattered.