The walk from the bar was enlightening. Bailey knew what she wanted now. It was obvious. It was a truth she’d denied since she first got that offer from those plucky little rebels. A refreshing change from the life she knew. Most pivotally? Corvis Base was a new hunting ground, one where her seductive charms and depraved skills might meet a real test, or at the very least some unique meat to chew on.

Could it make piloting a rush again, though? Would this bring real fire back to the act of crushing other pilots to shining, metallic dust? That was a tougher conundrum to piece together drugged up…

Perhaps if she was there… maybe the spark would be there too… even if, after fifteen years, it had surely metastasized into something sicker.

Hell, that was assuming she was even there. Assuming she was going through the same damn turmoil. Stupid bitch had to be. Why was Bailey even doing it if there was a risk she wasn’t?

Ugh, fucking focus.

All these thoughts slowly rammed their way through Bailey’s brain while those two animals from the bar hung off her every word, step, and throb. She didn’t show it. Even if she was drugged out of her mind, she was confident in her restraint. Flirting, smirking, and toying with the meat in her arms came as naturally as breathing. In a battle between powerful debauchery and Nataliza fucking Rayfield, the former won every time. It always would; Bailey made sure of that. Even if that fucker wasn’t there, tonight was a refresher. It was prep for the veritable feast she’d have with a rebel hole in the ground.

Three months? She’d make that whole damn place worship the boots she walked in…

Ah, right! Worshiping her boots. That got Bailey’s brain back on track. Didn’t stop the throbbing going on in her suit, but her mind was focused again. More focused than the two yammering creatures she was nodding along to. What they were talking about was beyond her, all that mattered was the look she got at one of Chalybe’s few shoe stores while she stood at the counter, Mari ‘subtly’ grinding against her hip. The other girl, meanwhile, looked as red as her plump date’s hair while Bailey went into unnecessarily excruciating detail regarding her boot servicing needs.

The merc’s eyes practically never left Sarah while she spoke, too. Did the old gal behind the counter catch on? Bailey didn’t care, but she knew Sarah would. As far as Sarah likely knew, though, this was just a playful gift to curry her favor, right? Lonely women in need of hot company did that all the time.

Ha. Like Bailey Cluanaire needed shit like that. The pricey little kit, kept in a nice, compact metal box, was certainly a gift, but Bailey didn’t buy those for nothing. She certainly didn’t buy them not to get some use from them. That’s all Sarah was, tonight. Use.

The blonde could stroll out of the store with her girlfriend hanging off another woman in suspense for a little longer, though. Why truly embarrass her here when the long-term effects of this are sure to do it plenty in her hovel back on Orsus, hm? Far more fun. Less effort too!

The trip from the store to the motel was similarly brief and involved similar tuning out of her two pieces of mammalian prey. Something about Mari knowing a hotel that would let her in for free? So interesting. So fascinating. Bailey just had to decline, though. Tonight, with her thoughts still flittering between entertaining Mari’s tales of Bailey’s prior sexual prowess, and thoughts about what and who awaited her on Corvis Base, there was only one shitty hotel on Bailey’s mind. The place she always dragged Mari to…

…the one where it all blew up. Where Bailey and… her split fifteen years ago. A reminder of how far she’d grown past foolish errors and poor control over those she cared about. Tonight, it would be conquered proper. She’d have her appetizers, then devour herself a nice, long main course. If Rayfield was there? If she was the main course? Even fucking better. That was a meal she’d have to fucking earn…

Oh! They were at the hotel already? Drugging yourself and getting lost in the pangs of odd desire really made a yammering walk through Chalybe fly by. She could reminisce about the past and sink into the future in the morning. For now, it was time to prove her dominance.

“You again?” Even if Bailey hadn’t pulled herself back to the real world, the tired, smoking girl behind the motel’s dimly lit, wooden reception desk surely would have. The disgustingly unmistakable scent of nicotine could have woken Bailey from a coma.

“Me again~.” Bailey’s voice promptly switched from lazy, if well-hidden, disinterest to her natural, teasing self. Poor minimum wage girl really hated her, and gods, was that a turn-on during a night like this.

The drug in her system made sure of that, of course. “You know Mari by now. Other girl’s Sarah. Cheapest room you've got for the night… please~.” Bailey was quick to get this over with. Quicker than usual, actually, though the raging hard-on in her suit may have had something to do with that.

“Uh-huh. See you’re up to your usual… whatever… don’t get paid enough to deal with you.” The smoky-haired woman sighed, typing away on the cheap computer in front of her with her cigarette hanging lazily at her lips. “Room thirty-four’s free. Two hundred for the night. Do I need to explain the rules again, ma’am?” Such impatience in the sad smoker’s voice. Was Bailey that much of a problem guest?

…

You fucking bet!

“Oh, of course not. Though, ain’t smoking banned in this establishment, hm?” Impatience didn’t mean Bailey couldn’t play with this miserable sack of tobacco and crushed spirits for a moment. She had a giggling audience of two to impress, after all.

“Yes, it’s supposed to be…” The receptionist took another drag from her hand-rolled cigarette to accentuate the lack of care lurking beneath her flimsy professional courtesy. “Just don’t make whatever you did to these two my problem. Day’s been shitty enough, merc.” Little Smoky and her tired, hoarse voice had long since stopped caring about anything. Resigned to her dead-end job in a dead-end city. So sad. If Bailey had any sympathy, she’d replace that cigarette with a gun barrel.

Alas, not her job! Bailey’s job was to take out two nice, green paper notes and leave them on the desk. No tip for this one, obviously. She was no Lucy.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Smoky. My gals and I won’t make a sound. Ain’t that right, you two~?” Ah, the ever-comedic annoyed growl that came after Bailey’s words. Bliss. Her tongue almost instinctively traced around her lips as she spoke, though, that was mostly from the excitement of testing out how broken in that blond was… Her arousal wasn’t a hidden article on a normal day, certainly not after lacing herself with the toxins of both alcohol and loosely defined Arcadium drugs.

“Quiet as a mouse, ma’am!”

“N-Not a peep…”

Mari and Sarah gave their word, respectively. The former still possessed enough of her faculties to pretend to be normal, grinding against Bailey’s thigh aside. Sarah, though, seemed distracted…

A weaker drug tolerance, maybe? Poor little kitten!

“Whatever…” The smoky receptionist didn’t believe any of them, but she didn’t seem particularly invested either. Bailey was a known quantity; saying no to her in this city was a fruitless endeavor. Why fight a million connections and a bottomless wallet, right? She didn’t even bother trying to get Bailey’s boot knife from her anymore. Complete victory for her. That tasted fucking delicious. “Enjoy your stay.” The girl tried to sound upbeat as she handed a room key to the merc, but it failed. As things sadly tended to for her

“Oh, we will. Give the nice lady a goodbye, girls!” Yet another twisted smile on Bailey’s face as she grabbed her key and made these two the receptionist’s slight problem. This was crucial, though! The real fun required control of these two!

“See ya in the mornin’.”

“V-Very nice meeting you!”

Once again, Mari and Sarah spoke respectively. Lambs to the slaughter, these two.

The receptionist responded with an eye roll and a lazy wave. More importantly, Mari and Sarah seemed as primed as they could be for Bailey’s big show of dominance. A show this nicotine-breathed bore didn’t deserve to see.

Bailey strolled past the old gray walls of the reception and off to the poorly lit, identically gray hallway. Room thirty-four was but a few flights of stairs away, and by now Bailey knew the entire layout of the shitty little stain. Cheap, cheerless, and long beyond asking many questions of its patrons. When she was here with her, it was the very same… but she wasn’t here. The two sluts holding onto her arms, though? They were. Time to pay proper attention to her captured prey.

“So, Mari.” Bailey felt the need to assert a little fearful control first, though, a hand taking rest on Mari’s shoulder while she allowed a smile to grow on her face. “I’m assuming your pretty kitten here’s smart enough not to try and run off with my wallet, right? I’d hate for tonight to end up as bloody as our first time~.” The smile on Bailey’s face warped with a slight sting of malice, her tongue tracing her lips with a sickening sense of nostalgia while the trio climbed a gloomy flight of stairs.

“N-Nope! Not at all, miss. Sarah would never!” Mari got the message fast for a drugged-up cow! Go, Mari! One couldn’t blame her for briefly ceasing her grinding and straightening up, though. Even with her brain fucked, Bailey knew Mari’d never get the image of what she did to that stupid little thief from her head. The viscera, the broken limbs, the dozen or so busted teeth lying in the same pool of red she did.

Picture it, Mari. Picture Sarah lying in that same pool of blood if she dared to step out of line. Let the drug fuck with your senses that little bit more.

The climb continued with a few seconds of awkward silence from tonight’s pets. The mission was certainly accomplished there; a little fear made her prey easier to keep in their place. All was going as expected. Control was a beautiful fucking thing, wasn’t it?

“U-Uhm…” What wasn’t anticipated was the sorry sight Bailey got to see when they’d gotten to their floor. Sarah had pried herself away from Bailey’s arm, clearly a massive effort with her system utterly mangled by Bailey’s… alluring embrace! She was slow to step a few inches from tonight’s suitor, but she was quick to give the taller woman the best guarantee she could. “Y-You have my word, Bailey.” Sarah’s words emanated shakily from her lips, paired with the equally shaky but well-practiced action of a military salute in Bailey’s direction.

Fuck, that felt kind of amazing, actually?

Bailey wasn’t typically one for the whole military hierarchy shtick. She was an independent merc who worked with herself and herself alone, a fact she was damn proud of…

But, damn, maybe it was the drug, or some lingering intrigue in what role to take on a base of needy rebel meat. Whatever it was, that salute awoke something in her, though. Something dormant. “At ease, soldier. Although…” That dormant, possibly drug fueled feeling made her smile creep back up into pure, lustful joy. It would have been foolish of her not to prod at a pet’s potential pressure point, right? “Someone at your rank… hmm… Think you should be calling me, ma’am, no~?” Right! Obviously! Duh!

“O-Of course… uhm…” Poor, desperate little Sarah. There she was, still trying to act like a soldier with her cock practically bursting through her skirt. Adorably pathetic. It was a shame nobody else was climbing those stairs; Sarah deserved more embarrassment than this. “You have my word… ma’am!” Bailey would simply have to settle for the intoxicating energy this whole saluting was giving her.

There definitely had to be some desperate bitch who’d treat her like a military superior at Corvis Base, right? Those rebels always hid some broken thing in their ranks. Some poor thing desperate for a Handler. Perhaps Bailey could indulge in toying with a little pigeon like that.

Breaking in the weaker meat came first, though. That was tonight’s special military conquest. It was time to usurp whoever this weakling’s commander was in her fragile mind. “Much better. Come on now. You’ve got a job to do, Sare~.” Bailey’s words were quick to pierce and followed by a light grab of Sarah’s still-saluting arm. Only a second later, Sarah was right back to practically drooling against the nylon and rubber of Bailey’s stealth suit, paired with a still shy nod. Right back where she belonged!

The walk to their room was fortunately uneventful. With Bailey’s hard-on, the drugs ravaging her system, and the needy prey giggling along with each other, she might have offed someone if it wasn’t. She certainly wouldn’t admit it to pets like these, but she needed this. Bad. Real fucking bad. The key to the room shook a little in her hand. The lock was as flimsy as it always was, further unaided by her unsteady hands. Bailey really needed to cut down on her own dosage of those pills. She should have made Mari taste-test that wretched glass of scotch…

…

That’s what a fucking coward would think! Focus. Bailey.

The door unlocked with a soothing click a few slow seconds after Bailey began fumbling with the key. Said seconds had a nasty habit of passing like eons, but it was only a few more of them until she’d dragged the three of their needy bodies into the proverbial shed of a hotel room. A patron didn’t book a room here for the stunning vistas and five-star breakfast buffet, of course. It was cheap by Chalybe’s extortionate standards. It had a bed. Lavish! Not only that, but it had a bathroom with a functioning shower. High quality! If you wanted more than that, you’d better have money and a lack of nostalgia for a night gone wrong. Bailey was only lacking the latter.

The interior of the room was drab, lifeless, and lit lazily by fluorescent lamps hanging off the ceiling. The gray paintwork, small, single bed, and boxed-in nature gave it all the warm, inviting charm of a rebel bunk. So, hey, good practice for Corvis, right? What better place to stretch her legs for a resistance buffet?

Bailey had seduced and waited long enough. The raging hard-on in her suit was all but threatening to tear through the damned thing, pre still idly leaking from her tip as she shut the door behind her two eager cuts of meat. “Mari, I think you know the drill by now, hm~?” Bailey’s words were fast, clean, and hiding a much deeper undercurrent of lustful impatience. She wasn’t here to slowly work her way to the good stuff, not with Mari at least. She was a good cow, one who, assumedly by now, didn’t need to be slowly coaxed into tearing herself from her butcher paper.

…

Bailey could encourage her a little, though…

“C-Course, ma’am... I... Oh!” Mari’s drooling, slow talking was cut off by a more literal slice. One of the sharp, claw-like fingers of a robotic hand traced down the back of Mari’s cheap, flimsy dress, making a small incision that made the girl jump. No harm done. The beef was unharmed, and her wrapping wasn’t worth dirt anyway. She should have worn something nicer for Bailey if she wanted it kept intact!

The trio had started to spread out evenly in the boxy hotel room not long after. Space was extremely limited, the energy was claustrophobic before Bailey had even ordered Mari to tongue-worship her perfect figure, or whatever fun game she’d settle on for the cute cow tonight. The couple’s eyes, though? They weren’t locked on each other; that was for fucking sure. They were eyeing Bailey up like a fine meal, desperate to see a hand zip down the front of her already skimpy suit. Would it be worth the wait for Sarah’s dazed eyes?

Ha! Stupid question! Like Bailey was about to let her entertain a thought otherwise. Sarah was there, waiting for orders, but beyond a cursory glance, she was ignored and left to assume what her role even was tonight, a fate worse than death right now. Poor thing couldn’t think for herself; Mari couldn’t either, of course, but she was used to that. Bailey couldn’t imagine her doing much thinking undrugged, either. It wasn’t her forte. Gawking like she was viewing a goddess through a window into heaven was far closer to Mari’s deserved lot in life!

Even the most ardent enemy of Bailey Cluanaire would have to pony up and admit she was a looker in her uniform, but when the zip finally slid down the middle of her tight, gray stealth suit, it was like peeking at perfection for tonight’s greedy pets. Akin to glaring at a succubus in the flesh.

Bailey wasn’t taking it slow; these two were needy puppets already, and she was strong enough to admit she was fit to burst if she stayed in that stuffy thing for another second. The suit removal was never an instant process, of course. Slipping herself free from its clingy embrace was a trained art for many a year, but the addition of her cybernetic arms transformed it into a finicky process of cloth manipulation, and that was when she wasn’t drugged. Blindly flailing her extra arms through carefully tailored openings on the back of her suit may very well have been amusing to watch, if her two spectators weren’t far too enamored and narcotized to laugh.

Ah! There we go! That only took thirty seconds! That might have been embarrassing if Bailey could even grasp the concept. But, with the arm ordeal over, she could let the top half of the suit fall to her waist, exposing what those two staring girls were drooling over. Poor Mari, already forgetting to get out of her wrapping. So many years and a peek at heaven still got her this hot under the collar. That required punishment. One with more empathy than Bailey couldn’t even blame her if she was drug-free. The merc was a well-maintained figure of perfection, and she was generous enough to let the duo bathe in the top half of her gleaming rays of superiority for a few extra, delicious little seconds. Mercenaries didn’t tend to get the idolization rebel heroes got from their peers, so this was always a treat. People like Bailey got fear, not fans, and certainly not the fucking doting upon Nataliza seemed to get.

Focus.

Bailey gave the two enough to ogle without doing some elaborate pose. Her chest alone was enough of a prize. Ample, round, and far too real for even the most ardent imperial bigot to be able to clock her. They were always Mari’s go-to target for desperate staring. Greedy fucking dairy cow. Bailey’s drooling bovine’s udders were bigger, of course, but what good would she be if they couldn’t at least outmatch Bailey’s D cups?

Sarah, however, seemed to have her eyes wander off to another target. A muscle girl? Bless Bailey’s heart, this pathetic blonde was fucking begging for a leash.

Couldn’t blame her, though. Bailey’s abs were statuesque. Well-toned via careful, focused workouts that had become somewhat of a necessity nowadays. A healthy body capable of supporting the extra technological weight installed inside of her, not to mention the heavy arms themselves, was a vital recommendation from the UA Frankenstein doctor who was willing to take on her dangerous pet project. Good for her work too. A healthy body and a deeply unhealthy mind were a requirement for mech piloting, and Bailey had both to flaunt.

That was enough showing off, though. Sarah’s drool had better places to be soon enough, and Bailey was growing impatient even in her boastful thoughts. It was time to turn them into boastful action.

“Sarah.” Bailey’s call was powerful and precise, as was the smiley gaze shot in Sarah’s direction with it. “Be a good cadet and help with my boots. Mari. Clothes. Off.” Wearing her newfound appreciation for military superiority on her lack of a sleeve, Bailey cut through the two like a hot knife through butter. If Sarah wanted a captain to take orders from, she’d get it.

Mari would just have to settle for a girl with a metaphorical cattle prod, nodding away without a word.

“O-Of course, ma’am!!!” Sarah was adorably quicker to act than her girlfriend. On her knees in seconds, still fully dressed, while Mari finally did her damn job and slipped out of that cheap dress. Atta fucking girl. “Ahe…” Sarah made quick, almost giggly work of Bailey’s slightly dulled boots, too. The three buckles on each side were child’s play, obviously. Sarah may as well have hung up her leather dyke license if she lacked the basic skill for that, but the speed at which Bailey’s laces were undone was a personal best. Faster than her own diligent hands, even! “F-Finished!” Fucking hell, Kern. Save some bitch-breaking for the professionals.

Shaky as Sarah’s hands were, and drooly as she was besides, Bailey was free to comfortably step out of her boots moments before Mari had slipped from her red garment. It was honestly a shame Mari was getting the real treat tonight; her girlfriend was showing her up more by the second.

Though… Mari still had that cow-print bra, huh? After all these years? Who said this drug couldn’t have permanent effects again? Dumbass. “Good girls! Sarah, stay. Mari, the rest, please~.” Bailey was firm and in her element, but no amount of confident speech could hide the predatory scanning Mari was getting from her. She was a rare indulgence, after all. One who put on a few extra pounds, and maybe needed a size up of the skimpy, cow-print bra Bailey had gotten her on their first meeting. Maybe some panties to match… the basic black lace was a contrast she didn’t like.

Obviously fucking not. She needed to save that energy for Nataliza…

Focus.

“Ya got it, miss…!” Mari didn’t seem to waste time now. The bra was untied fast; her soaked panties were dropped to the floor faster. All while her girlfriend simply sat there and nodded, eyes transfixed on unused leather. Slow and steady bored the fuck out of the merc, so Mari picking up the pace was a win for her. One she’d aid by carefully stepping out from the bottom of her suit to finally free her sensitive self from its skintight embrace.

Leather gloves and black socks aside, she was free at fucking last, and her cuts of meat seemed even happier than her for that to be the case. Bailey’s top half was a fine treat to stare at, but she was a prize below the belt. A prize Sarah was agonizingly close to the centerpiece of. Bailey figured she could showboat here for a moment; she’d earned that.

Standing on her tippytoes, Bailey stretched herself upward with an accentuated groan. Rather cutely, her robotic arms seemed to join the organic ones in said upward stretch. A remarkable little instinctual effect the neural link had on Bailey’s brain. That Dr. Lavern chick could probably whip up a great paper on the psychology of such a phenomenon, but Bailey was infinitely more focused on making these two study her like a prized scientific discovery instead.

Mari’s eyes performed the usual ogling. Nothing new; her adoration had been secured years ago, bolstered by Bailey’s favorite cheap pills. Sarah was her fixation right now, eyes locked onto the drooling face of her latest appetizer. Fuck… this was just embarrassing for her! Her girlfriend, seconds away from fingering her cunt with more voracity than she’d probably ever shown Sarah, watched in her druggy, lustful haze as the blond pilot’s eyes darted from prize to prize.

Bailey’s ample thighs could crush a woman to death. Her slick cock, twitching away at a length easily comparable to whatever cheap strap-on Mari used on this pathetic kitty cat, shared ample attention with what may have been a growing object of Sarah’s affection. The boots. Those dulling leather boots.

And Bailey thought she was a freak. Thick girlcock and full balls mere inches from Sarah, and she was dividing her focus between that and Bailey’s footwear. Ah, she loved it when a plan came together like this. Such easy, predictable little minds these animals had. So unlike hers… so unlike…

…

Bailey abandoned that thought. Better things to do than listen to the poison in her brain, like exploiting the poison in these two. “That’s much better. Now…” Another smile crept up on Bailey’s face as she bent down, both allowing Mari to admire her shapely, defined curves and Sarah to nearly end up smothered by her tits. A perfect distraction for the amateur pilot, enabling Bailey to slip back into her boots subtly enough for her not to immediately notice.

What was infinitely more obvious was Bailey’s hands reaching around the satchel of her discarded suit, rooting around in a slight haze for her wallet and the compact cleaning kit she’d bought Sarah. “I think it’s time you earned your treat, kitten. I’m sure that’s not a problem, right~?” Bailey’s smile was almost wicked. This was her favorite part of breaking a new, temporary animal in. Time to get rewarded for her benevolence.

“O-Of course, ma’am… That just… makes sense…” Bailey could all but peer into Sarah’s mind. The drunken tone of voice and wide eyes, drug-induced or not, both reflected sparkles of adoration. Bailey stood over her like a superior, maybe even a goddess if Bailey was feeling especially self-assured. From head to cleavage and throbbing cock to pricey, show-offy combat boots, Bailey knew she was shining for the little kitty cat, and in front of her girlfriend too. Humiliating.

“Think we’re… c-close to gettin’ started… please?” Ah, right. Mari. The pet who got to have some more traditional fun tonight. Without that needy whining, Bailey might have gotten lost in the throes of Sarah’s patheticness. Almost unlike her, but she was still behind the wheel of this wonderful car crash.

“I guess I’m in the mood, Mari. I’d just feel terrible leaving you to your fingers, wouldn’t I?” Bailey’s sick grin moved its light towards Mari as she began strutting a few steps away from Sarah. Said few steps was almost the entire space between the door and the bottom of the bed; cramped couldn’t even begin to describe the room they were in, after all. Yet, those few steps seemed to be an insurmountable distance for Sarah, her gaze only seeming to fill with more longing for Bailey as she sat down on the foot of that puny mattress.

Fitting two of them on it would be a stretch; fitting three would probably send them through the damn floor. It was rather fortunate that Bailey only needed space for two. “Up on the bed, Mari. Sarah…” Bailey’s glare of power settled back down into Sarah’s eyes, joined by a greedy smirk. “Get to work, cadet~.” Short, simple, and delivered with as much professional candor as a drugged-up pervert merc could offer, Bailey’s words made another clean incision through the pairs’ brains. In a blurry flash, Mari had clambered onto the bed, kneeling behind Bailey with a clear need to do something with her. Fucking anything, Bailey would bet.

Sarah, though. She crawled over to Bailey’s feet like a starving, caged animal. Bailey may have been able to barely feign the professionalism she imagined this thing’s commander bashed her brains in with, but Sarah had no such thing. “The… k-kit, ma’am?” Despite that, her words were clear and concise. Slurred, but intentional. Drugs and alcohol or not, Sarah seemed trained for this. Ready for this as she knelt at Bailey's boots.

Usually Bailey needed to sneak somewhere risky in an Arcadium outpost for kicks like this. Heavenly. The drugs Bailey could get her hands on had some temporary boons, much as she’d prefer getting her hands on the permanent stuff a system over, but Sarah was well-worn hard work. “Want ‘em spotless, cadet. Don’t like girls who waste my money.” Impressively professional again, but Bailey was starting to slip into an ecstasy these two would hardly notice sober. The rush when Sarah greedily grabbed the little boot kit was insurmountable. She could ask these two to lick the fucking things clean, but she had better uses for Mari’s filthy tongue. It was intoxicating…

…so why the hell could she only think about Rayfield when she looked down at Sarah? The pixie cut. The rebel pride. Bitch probably piloted a Whitehawk too. It should be Nataliza on her knees for Bailey...

…fuck it. She could settle tonight. Bailey would have her day over her again. With her again…

Focus.

“Y-Youuuu got it, ma’am!” Sarah’s slurry, yet intentional, speech pattern remained even as Sarah unpacked the fresh cleaning kit bought for her. That smile on her face? Blissful.

“S-Sooo… Just a quickie tonight, hon?” The less slurry desperation in Mari’s voice as she got ready to beg for the most basic release? Intoxicating.

“Early morning, but I have plenty of work for you too, Mari~.” The immediate perking up of the stupid cow’s face when Bailey teased her work tonight? More refreshing than any amount of bathing in the blood of shitty pilots. She’d bathe in something else tonight. “Shut up and get that tongue over here. Don’t think you’ve had anywhere near enough to drink.” Bailey’s tongue traced her lips while one of her cybernetic arms re-revealed the bottle of cream liqueur stashed behind her back. Pain in the ass to get that through the sleeve for said arm, but from the gawking Mari was performing, she clearly hadn’t noticed it until now.

Such weaklings.

“U-Uh-huh…” Mari didn’t even need to entertain Bailey with words. It was starting to get doubtful she could even produce ones that didn’t make the merc laugh. The red-haired cow was on her knees next to Bailey real quick, inches from her and ogling every inch of her modelesque body.

Bailey, eager to show off her spoils for even the most meager of prey, held the midpoint of the bottle with her left cybernetic hand, twisting the cap off with the above, gloved hand only to toss it over into the loose pile of clothes by the door. “If I see a drop of this land on the floor, you’ll be licking it off the carpet, Mari… and Sarah…” Bailey’s eyes had all but locked onto the blonde pilot for what she planned to be for the rest of this encounter, smiling away with depraved joy at the mere sight of Sarah eyeing up Bailey more than her own girlfriend. Ain’t seen nothing yet, Sare. “Eyes where they belong. Chop chop.” Bailey’s gloved hands clapped to further demean her subject, the cybernetic appendage below them swishing the bottle above Sarah before moving the attention of all but her gaze to Mari.

“S-Sorry, ma’am…” Poor little Sarah, so lost and obedient to those pathetic base instincts. Her eyes returned sheepishly to Bailey’s boots, and her hands finally started on what they were born for… with help from another source first. “Ptwuh…” The kitten was trained well. No questions. No pleading for advice. Sarah was trained by the best around, spitting on the brush included in the kit and giving the bristles enough of a rub in the small tin of saddle soap included with her prized gift to create a sufficient lather.

Bailey would have been annoyed if a clear freak couldn’t even do that part, but Sarah’s handiwork was smooth and stable. She was drunk. She was drugged. But the haze that bootwork got her in almost seemed to cancel them out. It’d be a damn shame if Corvis didn’t have someone like this in its dim little nest.

While Sarah got to the simple cleaning work, brushing in a gentle, circular rhythm on the first boot, Bailey got to her own, delicious work. A slow, carefully poured trail of liquor coursed down from her collarbone. A trail Mari assaulted with her tongue before it could even begin to drip past her chest. She seemed to resist the tempting distraction of suckling on Bailey’s teat like a newborn calf; Mari was the animal born for milking, after all. The redhead’s focus was purely on lapping at the soft, pillowy breasts to try and claim as much of that creamy nectar as she could.

Certainly acquired that taste fast, didn’t she? A hungry cow needed to eat its grass, Bailey supposed. “Look at you… Not wasting a fucking drop, are you? Good little cow~.” These two were drunk enough and poisoned enough for Bailey’s restraints to gleefully come off. One of Bailey’s organic hands was already moving down to scritch Mari behind the ear. She was in the zone. These two were meat, and she was the butcher. Time to get carving.

“C-Can’t help it… Thank yaaa, miss…” Mari nuzzled against that leather-clad hand immediately upon its contact, but she wasn’t here to act like a needy kitten. Not her role. That was the place of the blonde piece of meat by her legs, moving onto cleaning the second of Bailey’s boots in a drooling, hazy stupor…

She was looking up, though. Bailey saw it. Jealous little thing, though who of was a mystery to be unwrapped when her boots were clean. “What’d I say, Sarah? Eyes where they belong~.” Bailey’s tone was deceptively sing-song. Any malice flew right past, Mari, assuming the pathetic thing was aware enough to care if it didn’t.

“S-Sorry, ma’am!!!” Truthfully, there was no harm in Sarah’s peeking. Her focus was still on cleaning, and she was doing solid work. But hearing the tiny thing scared of disappointing a superior? Ah, that was everything to Bailey. That was status. Precious little subordinate.

“That’s it, cadet. Focus on what you really want.” Bailey had to suppress a laugh as she toyed with the amateur rebel hero, failing to stifle the growing smugness of her smile when she moved the bottle a little lower. The soft, delicate tongue drinking divine cream from her bosoms was all well and good, but the years when her hormones made them the most sensitive part of her body were long over.

What did she say to Lucy again? Something about her abs? She was, perhaps, a little too dazed to recall the exact quote!

Mari’s tongue was quick to change targets, though. A little liquor seeped onto the already unclean bedsheets below, but that sweet, brain-fogging cream was once more lapped with due diligence, funneled through the well-toned abdominal muscles of the cow’s favorite farmer. “Th-Thaaaamk yew…” Deliciously pathetic. Shouldn’t get her too drunk, though. If this thing puked on her boots, she’d have the cow made into a new pair.

Another few gulps couldn’t hurt, though. Maybe Bailey was just saying that so the hand not rustling Mari’s hair could trail down to her desperate cock. The merc wasted no time beating herself off at the fastest pace she could without rocking her body too much. Would that be fair to Sarah, after all?

Who fucking cared? Bailey was invulnerable. She could do fucking anything. These two meat sacks today. A whole base of rebels tomorrow. Even her. Fucking especially her. She was more focused than she’d ever been. More ready than she ever was.

If she was there, then it was time to make up for fifteen long fucking years.

That was the main course, though. These appetizers needed to be consumed first. Just a few more seconds of stroking that desperately sensitive dick… and…

“P-Please, miss…” Mari’s voice broke Bailey from her spell, and more frustratingly, the thoughts of a nude Nataliza beginning to roll around in her head. It was needed, though. The presumptuous thing seemingly wasn’t able to resist the heat in her own loins, either, fingering herself with a weaker veracity than Bailey’s now-ceased masturbation. She could make her wait while she assessed Sarah’s work thus far. A punishment for needily taking her from more important thoughts.

Although, if that hadn’t woken her from her brief stupor, the permeating smell of boot polish surely would have. Bailey had to admit to herself, it was a sweet smell. A smell of success. A scent of allure. An aroma of future, shining perfection that a lesser grunt didn’t get to wear. Good on Sarah for knowing her damn place too. If you weren’t going to give her a good fight, then it was better you shut the fuck up and do your job.

Sarah was good too. After she’d wiped off any lingering soap, the right amount of polish was diligently applied to her cloth. She was smart enough to start with the toecap, rub that in good, and spread it around with slow, ceaseless care. She was surprisingly rhythmic in the most repetitious part of her work. Focused. Diligent. One almost couldn’t tell her meager cock was throbbing hard enough to threaten tearing a hole through her skirt.

One could surely see her free hand reaching down towards it, desperate for contact. Desperate for release. So horny, yet her eyes were locked on her slowly growing reflection in Bailey’s shining leather.

Fucking delicious. But, who said she could get handsy with herself, hm? “Not a fucking chance, cadet. No touching until I can see myself in both boots.” Bailey’s tone billowed to Sarah like a commanding, icy frost, met with her hand ceasing the pouring of her pricey drink. No use wasting the whole bottle on a greedy cow when she was approaching new ground to hunt in. Thanks to tonight, she had a bottle of the good shit and a pair of well-polished boots to stroll into Corvis with.

“S-Sorry!!!” Sarah seemed to perk up at the coldness in Bailey's voice. Almost like it was familiar to her. Lots to unpack there, but the odds of them meeting again depended on either a miracle or deep misfortune. A therapist could unpack that in the blonde. For Bailey…

…it was time for the finish.

“Mari. Be a good cow and get that mouth where it belongs. That cunt is mine to finger too. If Sarah finishes up quickly enough, it’s only fair I give her a show~.” Bailey’s words and gaze alike were honed in on Sarah like a guided missile by the end of her demands.

“U-Uh-huh… G-Got it, miss…” Mari was there; she was moving the attention her soft lips gave towards that slick, twitching pole of desperation with hardly a word she could produce from them.

Tonight’s conquest, though? Certainly not over Mari. This was a victory lap after years of occasional victory laps over some glorified livestock.

“Doing great, Sarah. Th-Thiiink you’re almost done, hm~?” Even with Mari bobbing away on her leaky dick dragging some good moans and whines from her lips, the win tonight was over Sarah, and Bailey’s locked gaze made it all the more clear.

Sarah got nothing she initially wanted tonight. She wasn’t the one getting toyed with. Wasn’t the one getting fingered. Wasn’t even the one who’d started enticing smooth, siren-like moans from the merc with a passable blowjob. No. Not Sarah.

Sarah kneeled, polishing away without as much as averting her gaze from the second of Bailey’s boots, undoubtedly more pricey than her whole outfit. She listened to the sanguine sounds of her girlfriend moan, gag, and pant against Bailey’s fuckpole…

“Th-Thanks, ma’am.” And the little boot cleaner thanked her for it. Bailey could have came from that alone, but Sarah was full of surprising little boons. “F-Finished… They look… very pretty now…” Sarah was right. Her slow, delicate circling of the brush on both boots had left them pristine. It wasn’t the best work Bailey had seen; a professional bootblack should teach her to be a little gentler when rubbing in the polish, but the smell and shine alone were an add-on to heaven for the merc.

The real bliss, however, was Sarah’s gaze afterwards. A milky, glossy stare as her girlfriend used every trick reserved for the blonde tonight on what was, drugged-up status aside, a total stranger.

Said total stranger had placed the bottle of liquor aside the bed to free up her cybernetic arm for a careful, yet speedy ramming of two fingers inside Mari’s vag. Her thrusts were lazy and low effort. Mari wouldn’t take much to coax into orgasm, and Bailey only saw that as more room to show off to Sarah.

The smile. Fuck, that dumb blonde’s smile was magical. For an ever-so-brief moment, Bailey liked this little thing. Always liked her kittens. A favorite of her animals to tease.

Second favorite. Next to that bird.

Brief distraction aside, that face may very well have etched itself into Bailey’s memory for a while, but she had prey to beat and some damn release to get. “Hah… heads u-up, Mari.” Bailey spoke out a simple, moan-filled warning before, barely a second later, slamming the red-headed cow’s head down until every inch of her cock was rammed into her throat.

Another second passed, then several thick, sticky globs of cum fired down Mari’s throat from Bailey’s throbbing tip. Already far above the likely standards of whatever Sarah could produce, but Bailey wasn’t done there.

Not by a long shot.

Bailey’s two synthetic fingers kept up a smooth pace of plunging in and out of Mari’s wet slit, even as the sticky sensation those advanced prostheses could feel indicated her work was done. Such a quiet, pathetic orgasm.

With Mari limp, Bailey’s above-organic hand grabbed a good tuft of her hair and pulled her up from Bailey’s still-firing cock. She let the cow pant and catch her meaningless breath while the opposite hand reached low to begin stroking her desperately sensitive cock. No restraint. No managing the pace. This was all about showing Sarah one, simple thing.

That she was better than her in every fucking way.

“L-Look right at me, cadet~.” Bailey pierced through Sarah like Circe’s whip slashed through the steel of lesser mechsuits.

“Y-Yes, ma’am!” The blonde looked up with an obedient nod and a delicious void in her eyes. Temporary as these pills may be, Bailey knew a night like this would rattle around in this wannabe hero’s mind for the rest of her fleeting days, even if what came tomorrow would overwrite any permanence Bailey could see in this dynamic.

Better prey. Better animals. If she was right, the one predator who was truly equal to her.

Sarah was just a light snack. Nataliza Rayfield was what she really wanted. What she’d really have.

The thought of it all only made this easier. Spurt after shot after flurry of gooey, white spunk was aimed and splattered onto Sarah’s awaiting face. Her mouth slacked open on pure, drug-fueled instinct, something Bailey had no reason to correct. Drink your fill of milk, kitty cat. You’d earned it.

The fifteen seconds of firing at Sarah felt like eons; watching a girl smile at the taste of a load her doting girlfriend had drained from a stranger would have had that impact on Bailey if she wasn’t running through the same pills as her prey.

Sarah was in awe. Mari too, despite her wordless panting. Bailey was a living artifact of maintenance. The expensive arms. The divine, youthful body. The sickening charm. Even the gels and know-how to keep that hormone replacement routine from wrecking her pastime of creampieing the scant few sluts who deserved it.

All of it was ceaseless work. An endless cycle of maintenance on the self that would drive most insane. But, for Bailey, every expense was essential. Every check-in to keep her arms steady, balancing of t-gel, estrogen injections, and every beauty product used to keep her looking prettier than a sunset back on Earth was worth it. Because nobody else was her.

There was one Bailey Cluanaire.

“Th-Thank you for that, ma’am~.” And hopeless little rebel pilots like Sarah thanked her for every fucking part of it. There were a thousand Sarahs. A million Maris.

There was one Bailey… 

…and one Nataliza too.

That thought now lingered in her cleared, yet still drugged mind as she slipped her feet from her untied boots, tiredly slumped backwards, and dragged her tired body to the top of the bed, letting her charm go from intentional manipulation to lazy bliss. “That’s enough. Got a busy morning. Time for bed~.” Bailey had it in her to all but drag Mari to the top of the undersized bed with her. A chubby cow like her was good for keeping warm in dumps like this, much as she didn’t like reserving the intimacy of a cuddle for obvious inferiors. Especially those too inferior for a mechsuit.

“You got it, miss… I’m… phew… beat too…” Mari was easy. If she wanted the cow to be used as Bailey’s mattress for the night, she doubted it would take much real convincing.

Sarah, though… What to do with her…?

Ah, got it!

“Sarah, you’re free to touch yourself. Get a drop on my boots and you’re cleaning them with your tongue, though, cadet.” Bailey spoke with her usual charm, but the need for a little sleep was creeping into her voice. “Curl up at the bottom of the bed after. Commander’s treat~.” Didn’t mean she wouldn’t have one more assertion in her before bed, though.

“Ye-Yes… O-Of course, commander!!!” Sarah ate it up like she’d licked nearly every drop of Bailey’s gift of cumshots from her face. As expected.

These two would do anything. Lambs to the slaughter.

A good cow she’d doubtlessly milk for pleasure again.

A kitten she’d, ideally, never be misfortunate enough to see die pulling some self-sacrificial bullshit nearly all of these rebels pass on to.

Good appetizers, but tomorrow morning was looming. Corvis Base was calling. Seeing Sarah cum into her skirt would bring her little relief by now. She didn’t care.

Tomorrow could hold much more for her…

…

Would Nataliza be in that nest to greet her in the flesh?

…

She fucking better be.