Lapis kneels, cocooned in love.

What else can this be? The dark blue latex moulded to every curve of her supplicating form, kissing every inch of her skin. The ball held in her mouth by a panel gag, sealing her meagre whines within her throat. The cuffs binding her wrists in her lap. The rope embracing her in a full body harness. The vibrator between her legs, on a lower setting so it only teases her clit with the humming promise of relief. All of it- sticking, suffocating, strangling love.

Isn’t it?

It’s hard to tell. The vibrator’s steady buzz holds her ears just as the sensation of it holds her rapt on the edge of pleasure. She wriggles, hoping the movement will add to the stimulation enough to inch her to orgasm. In response, her latex suit softly creaks. It’s a reassuring sound- like the feel of the suit itself, so tight against her body. Ever-present, all-encompassing. Her head sags forward, weighed down by a boxy headset that bristles with cables and knobs and covers her eyes with a dark visor.

“Deep breaths, Lapis.”

Lapis’s teeth clench around the ball gag, muffling her answer to a weak groan. That’s right. She needs to breathe deep. Drawing in a long breath through her nose, she fills herself, diaphragm straining just a little against her tight corset. Sensation brushes against the hazy edge of her awareness- the rope entwined around her shoulders and between her breasts, rubbing against the suit as she moves. Automatically, her body corrects- not that deep. Her next breath is more measured. The discomfort fades.

“Good girl. Now watch.”

In the darkness filling her eyes, a small pulse of grey. Like mist rolling in off the water in the evening. It recedes back into black, until a second swell rises in its place, just a little larger, a little brighter. Fade. Pulse. A little more solid each time, until colour and its absence roll into her eyes in rhythmic waves. White. Black. White. Black.

Breathe in. Fade. Midnight jaws yawn open and close around her. Breathe out. Pulse. The mist drifts over her, moisture droplets prickling her skin. Lapis sinks- lets white and black have her in their turns. Lets herself be swallowed into them. Heavy serenity greets her in their depths.

She barely even notices the panel gag being undone and the ball popping out of her mouth, trailing saliva down her dry lips.

“I want you to go back now. Broden’s Crossing.”

Detail by detail, the memory takes shape in the fog. Smoke. Burnt oil and ozone. Voices crackling through her comms. Crashing artillery and barking autocannons. Tremors running up the legs of her rig into her cockpit. Fire and rent metal and rushing water, filling her view port. Broden’s Crossing, in a far flung corner of the southern front. Her own long walk through hell.

In the cramped space of the cockpit, Lapis is bound. Thick cables weave around her body and tie her legs down to the pilot’s seat, warmed by the tonnes of machinery snarling around her. Her body stews in sweat, boiling alive inside her latex plugsuit. And she is plugged into the rig, pins and needles across her body where wires slot into ports along the suit.

“What is your mission here?”

“N-No...” Lapis mewls in protest. Tries to pull herself out of the fog, ignoring the droning discomfort at the edges of her conscious as she fights. She can’t answer questions. It’s a big red number on a depth gauge, warning that she’s sinking too deep. This isn’t love. Why would love need her to drown?

The vibrator stops.

A whine slips up from her throat. She struggles, fruitlessly trying to fill that void between her legs.

“Lapis. What is your mission?”

“Buh... Bridge,” she moans. “Had to t-take the bridge.” Yes, her unit has been deployed to take the bridge over the River Broden- the last barrier shutting her side out of the south. Ruined mechs and tanks smoulder along the grassy river bank and float along the roiling black surface of the river, their flaming ruin lighting the night.

“Good girl.”

The vibrator buzzes back to life. She gasps as the void floods with new sensation.

“Keep going.”

Lapis strides through the meagre cover of the hills approaching the river, weaving between the shells shrieking down to smash the land apart. Emerging from the terrain, she lumbers towards an abandoned house along the road leading to the bridge, just large enough to cover her if she crouches. She catches a glimpse of the bridge- tall concrete barricades clogging its entrance, the looming shapes of enemy rigs beyond them, sending a hail of autocannon fire her way. Their aim goes wide and she hunkers down behind the house. Leaning out, she sights one with her railgun and-

“Which side are you on?”

“Nnnn...” There’s that big red number again, flashing a warning. Don’t answer. As if she hasn’t already. As if she hasn’t been answering for weeks now. She tries to dig her fingernails into the last hand hold of resistance she has- and finds it eroded down to almost nothing. She grinds her hips against the vibrator’s head. “Nnnnhh...”

“Lapis.”

“Em...” Saliva trails down Lapis’s chin as she tries to speak. “Empire.” She’s in one of the hulking Imperial Sucho assault rigs, all broad grey-and-black armour mantled in shoulder-mounted rocket pods and wielding a humming grey lance of a railgun. In her view port, an enemy rig’s outline flickers white as her targeting system locks onto it.

“No, you aren’t.”

“Wh...?” Lapis blinks, and the memory dissipates back into the rhythmic white pulse.

Small movements along the headset jostle her head- a hand adjusting the knobs. “Focus, Lapis.”

In her eyes, the pulse deepens, the whites brighter, a greying afterimage settling in her eyes until the next bloom of white, until the images bleed together into a lazy black-and-white spiral. In her ears, the hum of the vibrator, and its teasing tickle against her cunt. It’s constant, consistent- like the close embrace of the latex around her, adhering to the small twitches of her body like a second skin. A needful little whimper escapes her. How long has she been pulled along the edge now? Does love hold one in suspense like this? “Puh-Please.”

“Soon, pet.” Fingertips brush over her shoulder. “Sink for me, and focus.”

The haze rises again to pull Lapis back down. She lets it. Soon. That word latches onto her- onto the back of her neck, over her eyes, rubbing itself against her clit. Maybe love is anticipation.

“What do you remember?”

The memory blooms back into her mind, and Lapis describes it as best she can. Two hostiles on the bridge. Sleek Southreach models, firelight dancing across their armour and shoulder-mounted autocannons peppering her cover while they take aim with the assault rifles in their hands.

The vibrator stops. “No. Those were Imperial mechs.”

Lapis squirms in her restraints, aching for sensation. “Huh?”

“Those were Suchos on the bridge, Lapis. You were stopping them from crossing the river.”

That is not what Lapis remembers.

Is it?

The question is a stone thrown into her memories, rippling the image. Was it a house she took cover behind or a downed rig? Was it only her who’d reached the bridge, or did anyone else in her unit make it? Was she really tied down to her seat during this engagement? Did she feel a vibrator kissing between her legs then? Yes, she’s sure of that last part. Did she ever get to orgasm, though? Or has she always just been dragged along this cold precipice over the warm chasm below?

Lapis cannot tell.

She struggles again, body feebly straining against the ropes.

“Calm, pet.” That gentle hand settles on the back of her neck, thumb stroking her nape just below the headset. “Focus on My voice.”

“Okay.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Lapis listens.

“Those were Suchos on the bridge.”

They weren’t. Lapis had been the one in the Sucho. Hadn’t she?

“Focus, Lapis.”

That voice- deep and measured and whisky smooth. A towering oak unbowed by the storm. It’s warm in her ears, like it was always meant to be there. It flows over the inflamed tissue of her brain, soothing the lacerations this confusion has torn into it. Lapis wants to follow it. She wants it like she wants the vibrator buzzing beneath her again.

She nods. “Y-Yes.”

“Those were Suchos on the bridge.”

They weren’t.

But the path is laid. If Lapis follows, the vibrator will come back on. If she follows, she will be able to bury this dissonance beneath pleasure. She will be able to sink- to drown in this love. Maybe love does make you wait. Maybe it can let you hurt for a little while, before it relieves you.

Lapis nods.

“You were holding the Crossing against them.”

Lapis nods. It’s not such a stretch. She can force the pieces around the canvas. Make it so she was crouched on the opposite bank of the river, and it was the immense forms of the Imperial assault rigs trudging past the destroyed barricades towards her. Maybe it’s even true. She’s been here for weeks. Her mind is a ruin, rent open like the hills beneath the barrage. That voice could lead her anywhere now. It could call anything Truth, and Lapis finds her will to fight it ebbing away fast.

Especially once the vibrator comes back on. She moans, suspended between the onset of relief and the promise of release.

“You downed one. Assault rifle through the cockpit.”

That’s right- Lapis would have been in a front line Southreach mech. Move the pieces. Follow the path. Her hands tighten around the control sticks as she moves them, and her rig raises its weapon into her viewport as she takes aim around her shelter. One of the Suchos flickers white. Recoil shudders through the cockpit as she opens fire. The small slit of the enemy’s view port bursts in a swirl of embers and shredded metal. “I-I downed one.”

The vibrator presses harder against her clit, jolting a gasp from her.

“Good girl.”

Lapis almost comes then. But she hasn’t followed far enough.

“And then?”

“C-Caaahp...” Hostile artillery hit her cover. She remembers the shrill whistle of the shell descending on her, cutting down through the raucous choir of gunfire. The force of impact threw her rig onto its side and the back of her skull into the headrest of her seat. “Caaahptured...”

“By the Imperials, yes.”

No.

Yes?

Lapis could still fight this. The knowledge hangs an arm’s length away through the fog, jangling like a pair of keys. But as she floats in this sucking mire, that voice a life raft beneath her, the vibrator lapping at her, she can no longer find the will to do it. Maybe, sometimes, love is being taunted and knowing better than to take the bait.

“By the Imperials, yes?”

Lapis nods. “Yes.”

“And we saved you.”

The headset cables tap against each other, Lapis nods so hard. “Y-Yes.”

“Which side are you on, Lapis?”

An incorrect answer almost slips from her tongue. The Empire. But maybe love is trusting another over yourself, even when something deep in your core screams for you not to. “S-S-Souuthreeach.”

“Good girl.”

And it ends. The headset’s swirling stops. The vibrator goes dead. Lapis is left in a void, bound and sealed in sweat-slicked latex. She blinks in rapid succession, as if to restart the pulsing lights and set the process back into motion. Her pulse surges hot through her veins. “T-Tuurn... It back...”

“Yes, pet?”

“Turn it back on, please. I-I’ll be good.” As she listens to herself beg, that wrongness bubbles in Lapis’s stomach. Cold and thick like mud after a rainstorm.

“There’s no need.” Boots tap across wood towards her. “You’ve been very good for Me today, Lapis. So, I have something better for you.”

Lapis’s tilts her head back, mouth hanging ajar. “Better...?”

Leather caresses her throat as a hand slips under her chin. The headset strap is undone, and the heavy contraption is lifted from her head, allowing soft illumination to reach her eyes- overhead lighting turned down to a comfortable medium. Blinking again, she tries to force her blurred vision into focus. Before she can make sense of the vague shapes before her, that hand slips behind her head and with care undoes her ponytail, letting her dark blue hair fall around her face.

A shape comes around to tower over Lapis. She looks up, eyes more or less adjusted now, and the world clicks back into place.

Sir looks back down, Her eyes dark and framed with crow’s feet, just as Her tanned and wizened face is framed by the collar of a fine green uniform and officer’s cap. Emblazoned in silver upon that cap is the baying coyote of Southreach.

Lapis’s stomach settles. “Sir?”

Reaching down, Sir slips a finger through the metal loop on Lapis’s collar and pulls her up to her feet. “Come along,” She instructs, and leads Lapis to Her desk.

Adrift as she is, Lapis almost feels like this is a memory, too. At some point she’ll re-emerge from the depths of trance and the lines will solidify again, and she’ll be able to trace, approximately, what was real and what wasn’t. But for now, Sir will stand before Her desk and give her a debriefing of sorts, as always. And then--

Sir leads her around the desk.

Lapis blinks. This is new, right?

Settling into the chair behind it, Sir lowers Lapis down with Her, propping the pilot in Her lap. Then She unstraps the vibrator from Lapis’s inner thigh and sets it on the polished mahogany desktop.

This is new, yes. “Sir...?”

Sir pulls off Her gloves and adds them to the pile on the desk. “You’ve made impressive progress, pet.” Her face is stoic as always, set in professional neutrality. But if Lapis listens close enough, she can convince herself there’s warmth in Her voice. She wraps a hand around the pilot’s waist, as Her other hand moves to the zipper in the crotch of Lapis’s suit. Wetness slicks against Lapis’s clit as it’s undone. “You’ve earned a real treat now.”

“Treat?” The stirring Lapis feels in her stomach now is warm and right- anticipation.

“For being so good.” Commander lifts Lapis’s bound hands and affixes the clip on her cuffs to her collar. “Follow My voice.”

“Y-Yes, Sir.” Lapis slows her breathing. Lets the tension bleed from her body until she is soft in Sir’s arm. An automatic reaction now. Fighting it did no good. She’d fought like a rabid dog at first. But Sir is stronger. Sir wants her pliable. Sir wields Truth. And now, Sir shares it with two fingers sliding gently into her.

Lapis’s breath catches, flinching at the entry. “Sir...”

“Hush.” Sir’s voice has lowered like a campfire burnt down to embers. Warm, comforting, final. She begins to work Her fingers in, out, in, out. A rhythm as sure and measured as any She conducts. “Follow.”

Eyes fluttering shut, Lapis rolls her hips against Sir’s hand. “Yes, Sir.”

Sir whispers the world into Lapis’s ear. “You fight for Southreach.”

“Yes, Sir.” This is True, because Sir says it is.

Sir probes Her fingers deeper. “You have always fought for Southreach.”

Lapis shudders. “Fuh... Yes, Sir.” This is True, because Sir is working it into her body and mind.

In, out. Getting faster. “You were holding Broden’s Crossing against the Empire.”

Lapis writhes within her prison of rope and latex, burning alive. “Fuck, yes. YesSir.” This is true, because Lapis is getting close.

Faster. Deeper. “You were injured in combat. Hence the need for this program to rehabilitate you.” This is true, because it feels so fucking good to surrender to it- to let it be true.

Lapis bucks her hips against Sir’s hand. “YesSir. Fuck, Sir, yes.”

“You are a good pet, Lapis. My good pet.”

Lapis comes. Heaven’s gates open and she finally crosses the edge. Mind caving, weakened supports giving, submitting to the chasm below.“Yeeesss, Ssir.”

The high hits, then recedes. Lapis exhales and deflates against Sir’s shoulder. Floating in the warm afterglow of her will’s destruction.

Sir withdraws Her fingers. A desk drawer scratches open. “Good girl, Lapis.”

Lapis nuzzles her cheek into the epaulette decorating Sir’s uniform, cool silver digging into her skin. “Thank you, Sir.”

A soft buzz reaches her ears. On habit her body tenses- the vibrator? No, she hears Sir remove something from the desktop. Cracking open her eyes, she finds Sir with a comm set to Her ear.

“I’ve just finished today’s session,” She says. A pause for reply. “Yes. It’s proceeding as we hoped.” Pause. The thinnest glimpse of a smile plays across Sir’s lips. “As I said, there’s always a way in.” Her eyes flick to Lapis, having noticed her watching.

A sinking feeling falls over Lapis. Like she’s just said something stupid at a social gathering. Some mistake subtle enough for her to unwittingly make.

But that smile remains. “Subject is responding well. Very well, in fact.”

Lapis settles. Whatever her mistake, Sir forgives it. Sir sees that she’s a good pet, and lets her feel good for it. Maybe that’s what love is.

Yes, it must be.

Because as Sir holds Lapis’s gaze, that smile becomes a little more tangible.

“Unfit for the front line?” Sir considers this. “Yes, I’m inclined to agree. Not to worry, though.” She slides her hand up Lapis’s spine, along the small bio-ports installed along it- sealed and disused for weeks now. Lapis doesn’t miss how the wires prickled as they entered her. Sir’s hand feels so much better. Especially as it slips up under her hair, and She hooks her fingers into the back of Lapis’s collar. “I have other plans for her.”