4F woke up. That alone was remarkable, she realized, she hadn’t expected to survive drowning. Her attackers had said something about taking her alive. She tried to assess the situation. She was still wearing the interface suit, and was lying on a table of some sort. Her arms and legs were chained to the table, she realized, which confirmed that she had been captured by the enemy. The room was filled with high end looking equipment, though she couldn’t place what function any of it might serve. 

She tried struggling free of the restraints, their clinking on the table's metal surface filling the room, but found it to be hopeless, not that she had expected differently. She didn’t have any other course of action, just staying put felt too easy. After a few minutes of trying, she finally lay back down, still this time. It was pointless, and she was expending energy she might need later. 

She thought of her mate, would she ever see her again? She had no reason to expect to do so, but she wanted to hope, at least for the moment. Her skin had been so unlike hers, feeling so soft and warm. With her she had remembered deeply buried feelings, even if she never quite grasped what it was she was digging out. 

Her thoughts got pulled away when she heard a door opening and closing again. She couldn’t turn to face it, but there were steps coming towards her. A real Human stepped into her field of vision. She looked so different from what 4F remembered, her only point of reference in living memory being the pale grayness of herself and the other drones. The new arrivals skin was a warm bronze, her hair bouncing with excitement. Her white lab coat hung off of her with a kind of slack that reminded her how much her interface suit hindered her. She held a clipboard in one hand that held a stack of papers printed in a language unfamiliar to 4F. She turned to the defeated drone lying on her table. 

Not quite human, 4F noted. She looked at 4F with milky white eyes, their unseeing focus mirrored by two cybernetic implants next to them, jutting out of her temples much in the same way the interface conductors did in 4F’s. The implant’s camera lenses fixed her with an unblinking stare, she could feel their cold machine-like cruelty burning into her. 

Her captor leaned over 4F, taking in the details of her face, wrinkling the nose at her smell. She spoke in a melodic, cold, beautiful cadence as she observed her. 

“Permanent cyanosis, formaldehyde stench and that suit. Those cyberneticists were creative, I have to give them that… and you can’t argue with the results, can you?” she waved her hand in front of 4F’s face. “There is absolutely nothing behind those dead eyes of yours, is there?” 

4F tried to press herself flatter against the surface to get away as far as possible, which brought her at most centimeters. She tried to look away, but a hand gripping her chin forced her back. 

“I can’t believe I finally have the real thing in my lab, an original imperial combat drone, all for me.” 

The woman let her free hand wander down from her chin, brushing over the steel collar around her neck, sending a shiver through her. 

“I didn’t think you really were as pathetic outside of your armature as intelligence always reported. I guess they are better at their job than I gave them credit for,” she mused, and let her hand continue downwards. Over the heavy rubber sealing her in, over the row of probe sockets in her collar bones, finally settling on 4Fs unassuming left breast. A gasp escaped her, telling her captor that 4F was still human in some ways. 

“Oh, you liked that, my pathetic little drone?” she asked, a wicked smile lighting up her face. Her fingers found 4F’s nipple under the interface suit’s clingy material, and traced gentle circles over it. 

A needy moan escaped 4F, the touch of another feeling unfamiliar, the touch of her enemy demeaning, the touch of a human sacreligious. She wanted her to stop, but she had clearly no intention to do so. Instead, she pinched her nipple, hard enough to have her fingers turn white with the pressure. 4F squeaked as the pain hit her. She was used to pain, the regular corporal punishments at the hands of her wardens had made sure of that, but that had always been a dull and sexless affair. She bucked against her restraints, but there was no escaping her touch.

“So there is something under that blank expression of yours. How wonderful, it would be so disappointing if there was nothing left to break in you - and I promise I will find whatever self you cling to and tear it from you. You will be ours soon, a designer mind ruin like you is too valuable on the battlefield to just be thrown away.” 

Her words were cruel, but her fingers were gentle again. She trailed down the gentle inward curve of her waist, brushed along her stomach, and kept wandering further south. 4F understood where she was going, and her breath quickened in response. She couldn’t remember ever being touched like that by another drone, let alone a more-or-less human. She could hardly recall the feelings from doing it herself, life had left her precious few moments of calm where it felt appropriate. 

Her captor's hand found itself between 4Fs legs, pushed against the smooth material covering her most private parts. The touch alone sent an electric shiver through her, but the human wouldn’t let it end there. She started to rub, teasing her slit, brushing over her clit, blanking out her thoughts completely with an unfamiliar pleasure. She could hear herself moan like she heard someone else, she didn’t want to be present when her enemy violated her so gently. 

Her captor kept going, pushing against her harder, rubbing faster over the shiny rubber encasing her. 4F could feel heat rising in her core, pushing away the cold she carried with her every hour of every day. She knew it was wrong to want this, but her body - accustomed to abuse - didn’t ask permission to enjoy this. 

The woman found a rhythm, she was clearly well practiced doing so, and soon a pressure, a need to climax started to rise with the heat. She tried to push it down, but her teasing was relentless, even if she had stopped paying all that much attention. Her right hand kept pushing 4F’s panicked mind to new heights, while she idly read through a printout on her clipboard. Drool had started to escape 4F’s mouth leaving a trail across her cheek, her mind empty with need. 

“So you’re a later generation model. I’ve read reports indicating that the earliest drones had their spinal cord severed when your interface was installed. That must have been so practical, I could have skipped these ugly chains.” she mused, 4F didn’t manage to pay attention. She had completely given up on modesty and instead freely moaned her need out into the room. 

She felt she was getting close to something, she could hardly recall what, but she knew she needed her to keep going, just a little longer, she was so close, just a bit more, so close. 

Just as she felt like she was tipping over an edge, the woman stopped. 4F mewled pathetically, and tried to rub her thighs together for a little bit more, tried to get her own hand in the same spot where she had left off, but both times the chains holding her prevented her from continuing. She just hung on the cusp, and felt the pleasure drift away from her, release way out of reach, leaving a yearning that was so much worse than when she had started. 

“I didn’t expect you to respond to something so simple. I won’t say no to having it easier, reverse engineering your interface will take enough work as is. You having a cute little control nub is a very welcome discovery.”

4F moaned at her, she felt pathetic for doing it, but she just needed her to continue. The woman ignored her, and stepped over to some of the equipment lining the walls of the room, piling on workbenches and occupying every possible spot. She tossed the clipboard on a pile after marking something on it, and picked up a few objects from the clutter and returned to her. 

She noticed the stinging smell of disinfectant as the woman rubbed something over an exposed spot on her neck. Without warning, her captor pushed a needle into her. She could feel blood draining out of her, into a collection tube her captor had prepared when she had been over at her equipment. 

“This might pinch,” she announced, way too late. “I would have preferred to make you watch, but that suit of yours is in the way. I guess I can’t have everything.” 

4F pressed her eyes shut, she didn’t want to be there for this either, but not seeing made the sensation of her essence leaving her body more pronounced. 

“Shouldn’t this be red? Look at this, you’re full of surprises. That explains the skin color, at least,” she held a first sealed tube up to 4F’s face who hesitantly opened an eye. The translucent blue liquid sloshed as she rocked the tube, coating its walls in an oily film. 

“And another done… Just one more, for the guys down in R&D.”

She swapped out the tube again, and sealed the second one with a stopper. When she was done, she produced an adhesive plaster from somewhere. It was obnoxiously pink and covered in unicorns. 4F wanted to scoff at the disrespectful gesture, but she couldn’t get herself to do it. 

“This is so you, isn’t it? Here, let me make things better,” she said, and applied the plaster. With a satisfied smile, she carried the samples over to one of the machines, and loaded two of them, storing the third sample in a pocket of her coat. She pressed a few buttons, and it spun to life, filling the room with a low hum. 

“This will have to run for a few hours.” She came back again, this time sitting at the edge of the table, resting her hand on 4F’s thigh. “Do you have any idea what we might do for that time?” 

4F desperately moaned. She needed her to touch her again, even if it was something she couldn’t allow herself to want. 

“Nothing?” 

She looked up at her with pleading eyes, desperate for her touch.

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to get lunch. Don’t go anywhere, I’m not done with you.” She booped 4F’s nose with a finger, getting another frustrated moan out of her. 

With that, she got up and walked out of her view. She heard her leave the room. After the door clicked shut she was left alone with the whirring machine, a burning need for release and awfully conflicted feelings towards her captor.