Cyber Crime

Chapter 2

by scifiscribbler

Tags: #cw:noncon #clothing #comic_book #f/m #kraft-bimbeau #masturbation #pov:bottom #serial_recruitment #sub:female #hollywood_hacking #language_restriction


In the month and a half it took before Faria arrived in New York City, Lovelace hadn’t found anything that might help her break free which wasn’t against the rules he’d bound into place.

Today was the day. His plane had already touched down. But she had work to do for him - instructions he had given her very clearly last night - and so, instead of collecting him (a demeaning task of its own but one she’d expected to have to do), she was at her computer chair, doing Faria’s bidding. Enriching him and working toward his glory, not the glory of Lovelace.

And because she was sat on her computer chair, she was kept upright by the suction-cup dildo he had made a rule must be stuck to her computer chair before she sit in it, and must be inside here whenever at the computer.

That had turned out to be why she now owned so many short skirts, too. Faria had been very clear on how accessible she should be, and how important it was that something fill her pussy before his cock would.

Lovelace wasn’t happy about it, except that every command she followed made her closer to being happy about it. By now her state of obedience was something she mostly accepted, but every time she slid onto one of the two dildos - one holding her in place at her computer, the other attached to the glass of her shower - she had a moment of deep and honest frustration with her situation.

Even at her happiest, her most accepting, though, Lovelace refused to forget that this was the result of a trick; that her submission was imposed, that the control Faria had over her was not ‘real’, even if he tried to make her accept that it was.

She knew that his efforts to keep her watching the reprogramming site were all down to just how fragile mind control could be. When she’d had time, this past week, to look at her own life, she’d done some research. She knew it had limits. She also knew that regular exposure could extend the time limits effectively indefinitely.

Glancing at her computer’s clock, she realised that Faria should by now have been done with customs for a while and probably in a cab halfway across the city by now. Rather than fail to obey, she picked up the two pink ribbons she now kept beside her computer and began to put her hair up in two perky bunches. It was important to obey. It also wouldn’t do to disobey the first command he’d be able to watch in person.

A small mirror now sat beside her monitor. She quickly checked her appearance - yes, it all looked the way it should, even the understated makeup (and how frustrating it was now being required to make that part of her day every day, no matter how much else she had to do). She rose, emerging off the dildo with a slick pop, picked up her cellphone, and padded barefoot out of her computer room and down the stairs into the apartment’s lower floor, over to the front door.

Then she stood and waited. She shifted from foot to foot, idly wondering if she should be in a specific pose, wondering if she could guess the right one for Faria’s seemingly whimsical moods, frustrated by her own desire to please him.

Being brainwashed wasn’t something she’d ever considered before, but she’d somehow imagined it would involve less internal conflict.

When the door finally opened, another ten minutes later, the man she saw in front of her couldn’t have been more than 20. Slim to the point of skinny, his face was finally emerging from the baby-fat phase of adolescence, his dark brown hair cut short and his facial hair barely visible as thin wisps and curls. As well as his jeans he was wearing a faded old WWE T-shirt and a bright blue fleece jacket.

She’d been brainwashed by a college student?

How embarrassing.

He smirked as he saw her, and instantly Heather wished her face had still been a programmed, expressionless mask. No doubt her reactions had given her opinion away instantly. Faria reached out and tugged on one of her bare nipples. Heather bit her lip, which might have given him the wrong impression.

“You like that, then, lassie? You’re adapting better than I expected. I guess a computer nerd like yourself is probably going to be easy to program…”

The door to the corridor outside was still wide open and, thanks to his orders, she was standing in it topless, her lower half clad only in a microskirt, her hair tied back in bunches with pink ribbons. He’d just taken it as his right to play with her breasts and if any of her neighbours opened their door they’d get the whole show.

Faria stepped in, moving close by the side of her - uncomfortably close, but she didn’t shy away. His hand trailed across her belly, over her skirt, and then under it; she gasped as two fingertips probed her suddenly, finding her still slick from her dildo ‘training’. She heard the surprised, delighted catch in his breathing and realised with mounting confusion that he was new to all this.

He withdrew his fingers, held them, slick with her juices, to the light, then to his nose. Heather fidgeted, wanting the door shut, but not feeling it was her place to ask. And then, with a flourish, he presented his fingers to her. She scented her own arousal.

“Lick,” Faria instructed, and automatically, reflexively, she obeyed. Her head tilted forward and her tongue darted out.

If she’d fought, she could probably have made it just the once; he might have thought she was just being literal. But he might have realised there was resistance still to be destroyed, and he might have pushed it. At least, that was the rationalisation she gave herself as she lapped at his fingers, tasting herself on him. The door had been open for probably thirty seconds, if that, and she was already compromised, debased, by his commands and his control.

“Suck,” Faria instructed, and her mouth opened wide, her head thrust further forward. Her juices were only on his fingertips but she took him in down to the hand itself. An “Ahhhh” of surprised satisfaction escaped him.

Heather was furious with herself that hearing that satisfaction felt so good.

She withdrew her mouth from around him slowly, the seal breaking with a satisfying smack. Faria laughed again, and stepped all the way past her, swatting her ass with his hand on the way. “Bring in my cases,” he said.

Heather had been so focused on the power dynamic changing at her doorway that she hadn’t noticed the two suitcases resting outside the door, both very expensive and obviously new.

Wanting to limit the risk of exposure to her neighbours, she bent at the waist, leaned forward, and dragged them in then quickly shut the door behind her. Then she went to find him, deeper in her apartment.

He was waiting for her in the kitchen. As she passed the door, he reached out, caught her by the wrist, and pulled her in. Unsteady, surprised, and offbalance in her head, she tottered from the motion, but his other hand closed firmly around one of her breasts. That left her physically steadier but mentally even further off kilter.

“I know you don’t want me yet,” he told her. “But you will.” He paused, made eye contact; Heather wanted to look away but doubted she could. “You do,” Faria commanded, and she no longer resented his hand on her.

“Ask me to fuck your titties,” he urged.

“Fuck my tits,” Heather said, faltering a little at his word choice. “Please,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Faria looked at her curiously. “Tits?” he asked. She bit her lip and nodded.

“New rule,” he said. “Ongoing programming.”

Heather’s heart sank, but she was already replying “Ready to receive.”

“Rule… what are we on? Ten?” She nodded again, not wanting to betray her thoughts. “Rule ten. You only get to call them titties.”

“Ongoing programming received. I can only call my titties titties.”

The gleam in his eye was primal, the grin so unbearably smug. Heather was glad of a chance to obey, and she wanted him so much just then, but she still mourned the loss of some of her vocabulary.

“Changed my mind,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you on the kitchen table.”

Without even waiting for a command, Heather sprang to the side of the table. She paused, wondering how he wanted her, and he took the opportunity to put a hand on her shoulder, spinning her round so her back was to the table. A domineering shove put her on her back across it, and she quietly thanked herself she’d spend the extra to get a sturdy table. She hadn’t envisioned this use for it.

Her legs went up high on reflex; Faria caught one with a hand, steadied them both into a V, then grunted his frustration and paused to fumble at his belt, unbuckling hastily. Heather found herself excited and impatient despite herself. She wanted him. And a part of her wanted all this to be worth it in some way. For this to be something she didn’t have to hate.

Haltingly, fumblingly, he got free of his clothes and stepped up to the table. He reached out and grabbed her titties to steady himself against her, lined up, and thrust in.

There was no technique, no skill, no experience. But there was desire on both sides, even if one had had to be commanded to feel it; and Heather had experience and skill. She shifted position under him, bit by bit, disguising it as writhing ecstatically to protect his ego, until he was hitting the spot. Her legs wrapped around him, keeping him close, and allowing her to control his pace without his noticing.

It was rather like using a sex toy - she had to position and control him carefully for best effect - if you didn’t want to risk hurting your sex toy’s feelings and also found yourself wanting him to have a good time of it. Despite her concentration on these other tasks, she was able to coax herself right to the edge before he came, and she actually believed her own fake orgasm.

She watched him sag back onto a nearby chair and wondered if her future was as a slave or a free woman.

He was ten years her junior, she reminded herself, and to judge by his reactions she had the advantage of him in sexual matters.

She could work with this. She could find a way around him.



Almost a year after she fell into Faria’s trap, Heather had mostly forgotten thoughts of escape. Her mind was stuffed with rules and programming, and so long as she continued to reinforce his hold over her every day, it would stay that way.

To an outside observer, 2012 had been the year Lovelace went from a legend who picked their targets and struck only when they found something special, to a total workaholic. Along with the rest of the programmed hackers Faria called the Infinite Loop, she’d been set to a variety of projects, many of which were designed to make Faria rich through one hard-to-prove crime or another.

Having been closest to Faria in the first months of the year and therefore most convenient to order, Lovelace had been at the forefront of this effort, and often assigned the craziest hacks. Her name was now synonymous with data theft and blackmail, something she’d almost never done before.

Heather had also been tasked with several other jobs in the interim - among the stranger, making sure that four other women Faria had decided he had to have would be properly exposed to his treatment. She’d been ordered to research their lives and design new scavenger hunts that would bring them in.

That was a whole new level of social engineering. And, much as Heather tried her best never to admit this to herself, she had been glad to do it - to bring other women into Faria’s harem.

He’d been smart enough not to choose any celebrities, but equally only one of them had been Scottish, which would have been Heather’s other guess - old schoolfriends and other crushes, now that the 21-year-old had the power to make them his, just as he’d done to Heather. The others, she figured, had to be people he’d met on his various chat fora, seen selfies of, and fallen for. Two in America, one in Canada, and one in New Zealand.

Still, she’d had to assemble a background dossier on them all, and as such, she now had a pretty good idea who Faria was.

She hadn’t done further research into him - at the time Faria had told Heather to target this young beauty, he was still living with her, taking his pleasure from her every day, and she knew that if he found her looking into him, new rules would make it impossible - but a cursory examination of his contact with the woman at his college didn’t bring up much to suggest he had the technical background for the device; he’d studied psychology and there was no evidence of any dedication to computers or code.

Once the Scot was under his control, Faria took the opportunity to head home, and Heather got used to having her apartment to herself again. Not that she wasn’t still following the twenty-nine rules he’d implanted her with by that stage, and her fitness routine had been perverted by his desire to take her from fit and healthy to a bubble butt, rock-solid thighs, and a flat belly.

And not that he didn’t require camshows from her and occasionally full cybersex. He’d even had Heather pass on a number of his favourite rules to Kelly, the Scottish conquest, as ongoing programming, while he watched this exchange and enjoyed it; enjoyed her obeying him, enjoyed seeing his programs propagate…

She wondered sometimes if the psych graduate had ever psychoanalysed himself.

After a couple of months with his college sweetheart and some time in Australia, Faria was coming back to New York today, and that meant that Heather would be his host and, as he’d put it yesterday, “the active harem member” until he decided to leave again.

In the meantime, she was working on an issue he’d raised with her before he boarded the plane in Melbourne early yesterday; he wanted a way to disguise the programming script’s subliminal flickers without it being set up on such odd display rules, as that would always mean a higher level of suspicion.

She worked in silence these days, not something she’d ever done before Faria’s control set in. He’d liked to control the music, and when he wasn’t around, in deference to his wishes, she didn’t play any. So she heard the rattle of keys in the downstairs door, and immediately swore aloud. “Fuck!”

She snatched up a different pair of hair ribbons from the selection she’d slowly built up - a rainbow pair, in this case - to match her growing collection of miniskirts, and got her hair back in bunches just in time. After months where her hair had spent most of its time in bunches, it was easier than it had been when she first tried; her hair naturally kinked in the same places. (She hadn’t been surprised to learn that Kelly had made a habit of tying her hair that way when she was happy.)

Her mistake had been in not allowing herself time to be made up for him. He’d told her before that he didn’t like makeup, so she applied a very naturalistic palette, but this would be the first time he’d see her without it while wide awake.

Heather was disappointed with herself. This wasn’t proper obedience. And while she still told herself she’d escape one day, it always seemed to be the next. Between the occasional flashes of pleasure reward and the fact he kept her so busy, she spent most of her time too busy (and enjoying each moment of obedience) to think about stopping.

Faria wandered into her study, as he called it - Rule 12 had been that she wasn’t able to close the door to her place of work, so she’d always be accessible to him - and came up behind her. There was the usual jaunty cockiness to his tone, but a little more tension and nervous excitement than last time they’d spoken. “Did you miss me?” he asked.

“I’ve been too busy following your orders to miss you,” she offered. His hands came to rest on her shoulders from behind and she looked up from where she sat, meeting his eyes as he looked down. He grinned and slid his hands forward from her shoulders, taking her titties in his hands as he owned them.

Heather barely even remembered that she’d ever preferred to use words other than ‘titty’, and had grown so used to being topless, that she provided him with a perfect opening. She felt exhilarated, awash in dopamine as her body excitedly prepared for more orders and even more fucking.

Silence began to stretch and she felt she should break it. Searching for something to say, she offered “Welcome home,” and realised with a jolt that by now she did think of her home as being his, too. His jaunts around the world to see the other women she’d bagged for him were, in her mind’s eye, holidays.

“Thank you,” he said, and grinned. “How’s your work coming?” His hands were still toying with her titties. Even if she wasn’t often required to tell him the truth, between the natural excitement and her layers of programming it would have been impossible to think of a lie.

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m near a breakthrough,” she said, but didn’t go much further immediately, having instead a question uppermost in her mind. “It would be a lot easier if I knew why you’d made the choice to focus on screen disruption.”

Faria fell silent for a few moments. His hands ceased their work, and he wasn’t meeting her eyes. Her attention sharpened; without knowing it she’d clearly stumbled on something startling.

“I can’t tell you,” he said in the end. “It’s not my original idea.” His eyes flicked back to hers, and Heather got the sense he was checking her reaction. Was he afraid she’d judge him over this? He didn’t care if she judged him over making her into an obedient fuckpuppet!

Ugh. Men.

“Perhaps you should tell me about it,” she prompted. She wasn’t sure what she thought about this, but he had control, and she had a year of conditioning in her head, and she wanted him happy.

“If you want the honest truth, I got it from a TV,” he said. She blinked, surprised, and tried big, innocent eyes to get more out of him.

That didn’t exactly ‘work’. He moved over to the other chair they’d added to her workroom, unbuckled his pants, and sat down. “Before I continue,” he said. “Ask permission to tittyfuck me.”

Heather wanted to roll her eyes at how obvious the power play was, but couldn’t. Her mouth was already opening. “May I please tittyfuck you?” she cooed. And to her internal shock, her turncoat mouth added “I’ve missed it soo bad…”

Faria nodded. She climbed off her dildo and dropped to hands and knees, crawling across to him slowly.

“So this is going back a couple years,” Faria said, resuming his story now he had her attention where he wanted it. She settled into place between his thighs. “I’m home from Uni for the holiday after my first year, feeling pretty good, but the mood in the village is pretty crappy. Our local laird - I guess that’s something you wouldnae understand,” he continued, and as she coaxed his cock out from his boxers and kissed it gently into life, she heard his accent strengthen. Remembering his home town was bringing out the Scot in him. “We had a laird, he didn’t have much tae do wi’ runnin’ the place. But he was there, and he’d just died.

“Aboot a couple of weeks later, his daughter showed up. She’d been missin’ for ages. Now she was back to take his place. And the first thing she did was order a bunch o’ stuff chucked out. My mates and me went up to see what we could find - turned out there was some pretty cool stuff. A couple o’ big-screen TVs. They were old, sure, but they were huge. So we took ‘em. I mean, it was that or-” His voice cut off for a moment as her lubricated titties welcomed his cock between them. “Or they’d be thrown out,” he managed.

Heather nodded quietly, still gazing up at him, and began to stroke. Faria continued. “Took it home, plugged it in, completely zoned out. I had no idea what was happening. Just… didn’t think. Not until my ma yelled at me to get downstairs for breakfast.

“I’d been up through the night,” the story continued as Heather pumped his shaft between her titties, her eyes now downcast from his. She took in his tale even as her focus was now on delivering the right experience for him, now that she was indoctrinated it was the right experience for her, too. “Hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t registered. It happened again when I went back, except only to lunch. After lunch I turned it off and went to bed.

“Then I took it apart.” Despite herself, Heather was now almost entirely fixated on the tittyfuck. Faria’s story was background noise that she’d store and unpack later. Luckily, her year of conditioning had made her very good at that. “Someone had wired in extra controls, extra circuitry. I gradually figured out how it did what it did. I knew I had a hypnotic device, so once I could make it a website, I had a way to make money.” He reached down and took hold of her by her bunches, tugging them firmly enough that her scalp began to sing in delight. “I didn’t expect to catch someone like you. But I have, and I’m not letting go.”

Heather whimpered, her body throbbing with deliciously mixed feelings on that.

“But you’ll manage it,” he told her. “You’ll make this a hidden subliminal track for me. Just like you were told. Won’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I will obey.”

Faria gave an involuntary exclamation of delight and her affirmation of submission pushed him over the edge. He spattered her titties and her onlooking face, and her eyes rolled back and up as her mind whited out in an orgasm of its own…



Heather missed New York City. She’d been on the island for only a couple of months now but it was already starting to frustrate her.

On the other hand, this was where Faria wanted her, along with the twenty or so other women in the Infinite Loop, in the newly-built practically-a-McMansion he’d had constructed on the island he’d bought with his pet hackers’ earnings. Heather and Kelly - who turned out to be a delightful young woman - had been sent there ahead of time, in order to get everything prepared for Faria, and the other women had been trickling in recently. Faria was due to arrive later with the newest of them.

Heather had almost entirely stopped thinking about escapes over her second year of submission, but the past two months changed that somewhat. She was no longer on her own ground, and that seemed to have changed something. But by now she had virtually no freedom of her own; almost everything she said, did, or thought - specially said, where many other words had been set as the only ones she could use for their concepts - was defined by Faria.

She couldn’t even talk to Kelly about it - there was always the risk that Kelly had given in entirely. From time to time the two of them would exchange artificial smiles, and Heather always wondered about Kelly’s sincerity - and whether the other woman might be wondering the exact same thing.

It didn’t help that, with the two of them following the same miniskirt-only rules at all times now they were on a landmass entirely owned by Faria, Heather had started feeling a little jealous of Kelly’s younger perkiness. She was at peace now with the fact that part of her mind actively embraced her submission, and that part of her was mentally preparing to compete with Faria for their entertainment.

Over the course of the past two years, she’d assembled a harem for the man who controlled her, finally now including a couple of celebrities he’d visibly been crushing on. Now, as she felt herself giving in more fully, they felt less like duties she had upheld and more like the creation of her own competition.

The sound of a boat’s motor not far from shore brought her back to herself. Along with the other women already on the island, she turned to collect her hair ribbons and tied it back into the two bunches Faria wanted - now long enough that even with the lift from their tie, they reached down beyond her shoulderblades.

Then they all went down to the beach, to await Faria.

On that shore stood twenty-three women, fourteen of whom still wondered if there was an escape from their programming. Of those, thirteen were certain that Faria’s right-hand-woman, who many of them thought he called Loveless, would take them and burn out the rest of their will.

One of them was planning to try.

They watched Faria’s yacht approach the jetty, and one of the women knelt and bowed her head in respect. The others followed suit, some wanting to please Faria, some concerned, all bound by the same compulsion to submit.

It occurred to Heather that while she couldn’t escape, it was possible she could find a way to disrupt this. There might be a way to bring Faria to the attention of the authorities, or to someone else with the capacity to take him down.

She would have to find some way to test that soon, but first, against all of her personal principles, she was hoping he would approach her first, even use her first, so the others would see how important to him she truly was.

The next story in the series will be The Siren. The next story to touch on Heather, Faria and more will be Kara Kraft and the Infinite Loop.


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