Chapter 3

“We can’t just let them get away with it. It’s completely unfair!” Theo shouted.

He was at home watching TV again with Trish, Marc, Sam, and Ben. As usual, Theo sat in his favoured armchair, Sam sat on the floor and the other three shared the couch. A news report detailed CaliaCorp’s latest acquisition, a huge swathe of the city including a large section of the Circuit District. That usually meant massive demolition followed by the erection of huge towers for CaliaCorp employees to live in. It seemed as though more and more of the city worked for them, and they all needed somewhere to go. That meant the group of people sitting in their dingy room would have to move on if things continued as they had for the last few years. They were lucky this time, the area CaliaCorp purchased was a few blocks away, but it seemed just a matter of time before the company owned every inch of the city, and only their employees could live there.

“We should protest,” Trish said. She bristled with anger. Some of her other friends lived in the area that would now be exclusively for CaliaCorp staff. They would be homeless or forced to leave the city altogether. None of them had been in touch for a little while, she thought, maybe she should check in and see if they needed to crash with her.

“I think we should just do something crazy. Like smash up their building or… I don’t know,” Theo said. “Really send ‘em a message.”

“That doesn’t sound… safe,” Sam said, “like, they’ll just throw you in jail.”

“Yeah but at least someone will do something,” said Theo.

“I guess,” Sam replied, “there just has to be, you know, a less dangerous way to do something.”

“We could hack ‘em,” said Marc, “I mean, I’ve got some skills.” He clasped his fingers together and cracked them with a smirk.

“You’re barely able to hack into your own emails,” quipped Theo. Marc scowled.

“We should just leave it alone,” said Ben.

“What?” Trish shouted. “Let them get away with ruining our lives?”

“Are they though? They bought some buildings,” said Ben, “all we’re doing is putting people in danger if we try anything crazy.”

“The hell happened to you dude?” Theo snorted. “You used to hate them.”

“I… I do, I just don’t think there’s anything we can do. You can’t resist a corporation like that.”

“The hell we can’t,” Theo said. “I’m not just sitting around while our world gets destroyed.”

“Yeah but, maybe Ben’s right,” said Sam. “How do you fight a company that big? They control everything. They just… take over and nobody can do anything about it. We’re just some broke Circuiters.”

Everyone fell silent. Theo shook his head. He knew Sam was right, but he had a hard time admitting it. Ben’s words demoralised the room, turning their righteous indignation to solemn sadness.

Trish stood from her seat and faced everyone. She dressed as she usually was, in a pair of black boots, fishnet stockings and a black skirt, a ripped t-shirt with some band’s logo on it. Her blonde hair swayed about with the movement of her head and her thick black eyeliner accentuated her deep eyes. Black lipstick completed the look, she was a total badass, at least in the eyes of Sam, who quietly harboured feelings for Trish since she met her, never spoken.

“We can’t just… give up,” Trish began, “We’re losing friends, losing places to go, to eat, to go out, we’re losing our city. Our homes. Seriously, come on.”

Everyone remained silent for a while. Finally, Ben stood and walked to Trish, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Trish, look, I get it, I do, but there’s no sense resisting them, they always get what they want.”

Trish eyed him suspiciously. Ben had always been a little weird, but this was beyond even that. She brushed his hand off her shoulder and stepped away. “Everyone else agree with Ben?”

“I don’t agree with him, but he’s not wrong, is he?” said Theo. “Plus, it’s not even our places they bought.”

“Yeah Trish, face it, we’re just a bunch of losers in the worst part of town. We can’t like, buy property from them or anything,” Theo added.

Sam scratched her head. She wanted to have a solution, to be able to help Trish and maybe just impress her too, but she had nothing. “I’m sorry Trish, you know I’m on your side, but… I have no idea what to do.”

“You see,” said Ben, smiling, “it’s ok to be mad, but knowing we can’t do anything about it is ok too.”

Trish looked at Ben’s strange, awkward smile. He creeped her out. “Dude, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I don’t like it.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ben said, “I’m just… being realistic.”

“Whatever, I’m out of here,” Trish said. She was angry. Angry at her friends for being so meek, angry at herself for not having any answers. The door slammed behind her before she even realised she had stormed out. Not that it mattered, they were getting nowhere. Instead, she walked out onto a rainy street. Dilapidated buildings were all around her, dwarfed by the towers CaliaCorp built, all gold and glass and steel. Pink and blue neon lights buzzed above filthy storefronts and tiny restaurants in the grime below. Steam wafted from vents and grates in the ground, flickering lights flashed in puddles. Noise leaked from cracks in walls and open windows. Arguments, sobbing, shouting, sex. So many people crammed into a tiny space. All humanity meshed together. The last real part of the city left. She passed by old people struggling with their groceries and young people dressed in fraying, torn clothes. The street beneath her feet was muddy and messy. Everything had been getting worse since CaliaCorp came along. There was no local government help to tidy up, no programs to assist anyone. Everything just went to CaliaCorp. Everything was CaliaCorp.

Trish arrived back at her place, a faded brown door beside a red-lit noodle bar. She fumbled her keys into the lock and went up the dimly-lit stairs to the single room flat above the bar. Posters of old bands who long since played their last show covered the walls. All Trish had to her name was a single bed, tiny couch and tinier TV and her guitar and clothes, and one more thing under her pillow. She threw herself down on the bed and pulled it out. A vibrator she bought in the local sex shop, the one beneath Sam and Theo’s place. It was low on batteries, and she could not afford more, so she only used it when she was either very horny or extremely stressed. Right now, it was the latter.

Pulling her skirt up, Trish slid her finger over her panties and moaned. It felt good to just stop thinking about all her problems for a little while and focus on herself. As the pleasure grew and she felt increasingly aroused, fantasies began to swirl in her mind. She pictured herself, powerful and strong in leather, no, latex, with a riding crop in her hand, standing over a woman. The woman knelt at her feet, cowering before her over-the-knee boots. She looked up and Trish’s mind raced to fill in the blanks of who she was dominating today. It was always dominating. Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman. The power turned her on. She rubbed herself faster, still over the black lace panties, taking her time before touching herself more intimately.

Sam’s face appeared; sweet, innocent Sam. Trish had fantasised about her for years. She was so nice and kind and that made it all the naughtier to think about making her prostrate herself, making Sam obey her every command and punishing her for failure. The thought was enough to send her finger underneath her panties and inside the top of her pussy, teasing her clit and grunting with the added sensation of skin against it. In her mind, Sam lapped at her, licking up and down Trish’s lips and flicking her tongue in and out while Trish held her head down there, letting her stop to breathe for a moment before she started again. The thought of Sam’s sweet face covered in her juices was so hot Trish completely forgot why she was upset getting home. All that mattered was making sure fantasy Sam did as she was told. Of course, she messed up and Trish struck her on her bare behind with the riding crop and pulled at her hair until she yelped.

The fantasy became more fun, and Trish needed a little extra to push things over the edge. She pushed the vibrator under her panties, then flicked it on. The gentle rhythm caressed her in just the right way and she let out a soft moan. Fantasy Sam licked her harder and faster. She pictured herself looking down at Sam, their friendship ruined by Sam’s submission, the shy girl now fully under Trish’s control. The idea of it made her even more turned on and she turned up the vibration. Sam would be such a good little slave for her, she could have her move in and do all the chores and maybe let her cum once in a while as a reward.

Somewhere deep down, Trish thought she would say yes if she asked, but the reality was that she was scared to risk their friendship or be rejected. Sam was a dorky girl, but you never know if someone really wants you. Fantasy Sam was different. She only cared about Trish’s pleasure. Her tongue expertly moved over Trish’s clit as she approached climax and she held down the vibrator, fully lost in the fantasy that it was Sam’s mouth melting her into a puddle of lust. It was what she wanted more than anything, to control and dominate and be serviced by a willing and eager pet. Sam would be so good, so good at fucking and licking and stroking and begging for release while Trish denied it and whipped and caned her.

Trish felt right on the edge, thinking about Sam strapped down to her bed while she used her mouth like a sex toy, gagging her so she couldn’t talk, just thrusting her tongue into her over and over and over until… the batteries died.

“Fuck,” Trish said and threw the dead device on the floor. It bounced across the hard wood and stopped. She used her fingers to try to finish herself off, but the fantasy faded and now she felt angrier than ever. Angry at CaliaCorp and the fact she couldn’t afford batteries if she wanted to eat and angry at fantasy Sam for not getting her off quick enough, useless subby cow. She gave up and pulled her hand from her panties, pushed her skirt back down and lay there, staring up at the cracked, damp ceiling in her tiny apartment. The smell of noodles wafted up from below. Dinner would have to satisfy her instead of her toy.