The world as we knew it ended ages ago. A new one struggles to rise in its aftermath. Martin, a former street urchin from a barren region known as The Wastes, is living out what looks to be the end of his turbulent days in a citadel that exists at the service of inscrutable forces steering humanity’s scattered remnants from the shadows.
On an ordinary morning, he encounters a strange woman named Neva, who might just hold the keys to some of this new world’s biggest secrets and give him a new lease on life. All he has to do is take a chance and join her on a wild, unhinged adventure to the ends of the Earth while facing off with some of humanity’s most vicious and dangerous mistakes, and uncovering its most bizarre conspiracies.
This is the setting for When All The World Dissolves, a new, dark post-apocalyptic sci-fi adventure created on a dare, and can best be described as Mad Max meets Dune with a few dashes of cyberpunk for a little bit of extra fun, and some influences from Eastern European thrillers. That means things are going to get a tad intense and gritty at times, so I really should give you a few content warnings. This work contains graphic violence, swearing, sexual content, and disturbing subject matter, and is indented for a mature audience. There are no kids saving the world here, just adults surviving one.
For those who would rather consume this in an audio format, we've got you, and I say we because the chapter is narrated by my editor Leslie Bardal of Crimson Touch, Neva and other female roles are voiced by the supremely talented Ivy Wilde, and yours truly takes on the male voices. We explain how the idea and the story came about in a little more detail, but you can skip to 7:04 if you'd rather just get into the chapter.
Life after the apocalypse was generally very boring. Certainly, the apocalypse itself must have been chaotic and terrifying, but once whatever caused it finally subsided, it was just a matter of following a routine. If you were still alive, your luck turned into hope, then into resolve, then discipline. People then did what people tend to do best: they figured out a way forward.
Oh sure, there were still moments of violence, fright, and excitement, but after long enough, life reverted to a new normal and so, what world ended and how, tended to be forgotten so thoroughly that few seemed to care.
Ancient scholars and thinkers thought there would be a special name for it, something like The Deluge of Fire, or The Rending, or The Last Cataclysm, but when doomsday came and went, there was no one with the time and luxury to think of one. Then, when it turned out not to be the end, humanity moved on. Sure, it was severely diminished, struggling, radically different from what came before in some ways while also being identical in others, but it was still very much around.
And so, a lone figure, wrapped in a wind-battered cloak that blended in with the rocks and sparse vegetation, stood at the edge of a cliff as desert gusts swept through the valley below. His eyes peeked through the opening between his hood and face cover. The sun was setting, and a relatively pleasant day was giving way to an unseasonably chilly night.
In the distance, he saw a range of jagged mountains with thin, wispy snow on their peaks. Finally, his goal was in sight. Just one more night of walking. Well, probably two. He allowed himself a single sip from a hidden water bladder, pulled down his goggles, and lurched forward, limping as he followed the precarious path, leaning on his walking stick.
As the moon illuminated the sand and rock formations, he was moving at a relatively slow but steady pace. He looked up at a constellation of white, blue, and violet lights drifting overhead. These lights floated in the night sky for as long as anyone bothered to notice, extremely useful for nocturnal navigation across the barren desert of the Wastes.
With another sip and a small dose of the only painkiller he had left, he continued to trudge toward the mountains ahead. It was going to be his last destination, one way or another. There was nowhere else he could go. After all, for the last few thousand years, the citadels under the path of the lights in the sky had been the last vestiges of actual civilization on Earth.
The massive metal cage slammed down on the smooth stone floor of a bright and airy loading area. A trio of sweaty, grimy slavers from The Wastes, caked in sand and machine grease, joked about the fate of their trophy.
“What do you think they’re going to do with this one?” one of them asked.
“Who knows?” shrugged the second. “But... this place is full of creative weirdos. I’m sure they can think of something.”
“Maybe she’ll get to have some fun before, you know...” grinned the third with a sinister laugh.
“Knock it off!” growled their leader. “We’re here to get the supplies and get out.”
A steady clink of a walking stick hitting the floor interrupted their conversation. Nursing a very slight limp, Martin casually strolled toward the cage. His piercing eyes were black, their irises every bit as dark as the pupils. A mop of unruly brown hair with gray streaks framed an otherwise lean face.
He crouched down and looked inside at the waif covered in grime and rags. She was chained to the cage with equipment more fit to secure a bear than a rail-thin woman who had barely enough strength to sit.
“Where did you find her?” he asked.
“Just roaming around the desert like all of them,” replied the leader. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let them touch her.”
Martin examined the head slaver. While his helpers were young, he was an older, grizzled bear of a man covered in tattoos and with several prominent implants. Dark cables looped around his shoulders, and one of his eyes was replaced with a large, bulky camera.
“Really? All on her own? Almost naked?” Martin’s brow shot up quizzically. “Seems like a lucky break for her that you fine and upstanding gentlemen came across her.”
“It is, which is why this one is worth top-tier equipment,” said one of the slavers. “Young, strong, fit, healthy...”
“She can’t even sit up on her own,” scoffed Martin.
“Just let her have a nap, and you’ll be surprised how feisty she gets,” chuckled another.
“I don’t have all day to negotiate with you,” Martin sighed. “Go and get your usual fee from the guards, and ask for a few extra boxes of ammo and med kits.”
He looked back into the cage, signaling that he was done with the conversation, and the slavers were dismissed.
“What if we...” angrily started one of them, trying to reach into his tattered uniform, no doubt stolen from a corpse.
“We understand,” thundered the leader, grabbing his subordinate by the shoulder, twisting his fingers into the upstart’s pressure points.
Turning around, he pulled the overzealous minion, now wincing in pain, with him.
“Idiot,” he quietly hissed to the subordinate. “Take one good look at his right arm.”
The slaver glanced back at Martin. As the sleeve of the man’s battered, faded tunic momentarily rode up, he spotted an odd sliver of dark swirls framed by geometric lines.
“Survivor?” he whispered incredulously to his boss. “And he was that far along?”
“See what I mean?” the leader nodded, whispering back. “Don’t make a scene. This place is good for a steady resupply and a few extras. Don’t take it personally. It’s just business. Flesh is everywhere if you know how to look. Now come on, let’s get our stuff.”
Martin smirked a little to himself. He was used to dealing with young slavers’ tantrums. It was nice to have experienced elders who knew how to keep them at bay. Now, on to his new charge.
“Hungry?” he asked, still peering into the gloom.
There was no answer. He unlocked the cage and swung the door wide as he slowly, carefully, showed his hands at every step. He took out a small, elongated wooden bowl and unwrapped a piece of fresh bread from the pouch around his belt. He slid the bowl into the cage, unsnapped the carabiner holding a small canteen of water, and gently rolled it after the food.
After a little bit of hesitation, a filthy, chained hand took the bread. It vanished in the blink of an eye. The canteen was quickly drained as well and rolled back toward him.
“Don’t worry, there’s more food coming,” said Martin. “You just need to expand your stomach a little bit first. You’ve probably been out there with nothing to eat for a few days, maybe even a week?”
She nodded in reply, still mostly covered by shadows.
He walked around the side of the cage and slid in a key. She watched his every step, noting that he purposefully took his time. With a strained, groaning clanking, the massive cuffs unlocked as the chains fell onto the floor. She was free.
She rubbed her wrists and tried to stand up, leaning on the bars of the cage to stabilize herself. Regaining some sense of balance, she made her way out of the cage, her bare feet firmly planting themselves into the cool stone of the floor. Wincing, she tried to adjust to the light as she looked up at Martin.
Her frame seemed downright fragile, lean with the obvious onset of malnutrition. Ribs were ever so slightly starting to show through the tears in the rags wrapped around her body. Her jet-black hair hung in clumps, and dust and dirt clung to her face. Looking down, she watched Martin’s boots for any forward motion, but the man seemed content where he was.
“Come with me,” he said after a minute. “Let’s get you washed up and do a health check.”
Wait, did she just hear him right? Wash up? Like, with water? In a proper bath?
“What would you like me to call you?” asked Martin.
“Neva,” she croaked in response.
Her face froze in shock as the sound of her voice resembled a rusty hinge being pried open, more than a human vocalization.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “More water and a shower will help that. We see it all the time.”
Neva followed him through large hallways and corridors to a large room with smooth stone walls and round pebbles on the floor, which seemed just rough enough to safely step on when wet. He pointed to a stall with a fresh, fluffy towel and small glass bottles of soaps and cleansers.
“Take as long as you need,” he said. “The water is heated and recycled. I’ll be across the hall. If you get lost, just ask for Martin.”
He may as well have pointed her to heaven. Over the next half an hour, a month’s worth of desert came off her body. Included in the kit was a safety razor and shaving foam, which she took as a hint to shave every nook and cranny. According to some of the nomads in the Wastes, this was decent protection from lice and other little parasites.
Refreshed and with a bounce in her step, Neva walked into the office across the hall, wrapped in the towel, awkwardly holding her rags, unsure of what to do with them. The first thing she spotted was a large exam table and an array of lights hanging from the ceiling. A nervous pit suddenly wound itself in her stomach.
“Please drop those in the waste bin, take off your towel, and have a seat on the table,” said Martin, barely looking up at her, scribbling something on forms laid out in front of him.
“Are you... a... Fixer?” she asked, clearly struggling to find the right word.
“I do my best,” he nodded, putting on a pair of clean latex gloves.
She slid onto the exam table after discarding what was left of her clothes and neatly folding the towel. He took her vitals, listened to her heart and lungs with a stethoscope, consulting a chart and an ancient electronic tablet as he did. Looking deep into her pale, sun-damaged green eyes, he checked her reflexes and vision with a thick, pen-like device that shone a bright light.
“Please uncover yourself,” he calmly and politely requested.
She complied with a slight shiver as his hands started to examine her. His motions were well practiced and had the quality of a thorough search. Less than a minute later, he marked off another item in his notes, plopped down on a stool with wheels, and looked over all of his paperwork once again.
“All right, heart and lungs sound just fine, you don’t seem to have any parasites, reflexes are normal, no tumors or abnormal bumps. Now we’ll just get a little blood for testing and do the standard reproductive exam.”
A device shaped like an armrest came up from the exam table. She put her arm on it, and flexible straps affixed her wrist and forearm. One of the straps coiled itself around her arm just past her elbow, tightening as a robotic syringe with a small, curved, screen-like attachment found a vein and started siphoning blood into several glass vials.
“I’ll try to make it as quick and painless as possible,” Martin assured her after seeing the anxious grimace on her face.
The syringe was extracted from her arm, and the robot dropped it into a biohazard bin before extending the vials to Martin and retracting into the table. Martin pressed another button, and a robotic arm with a curved device unfolded itself while a pair of stirrups appeared by her feet.
“Wait,” Neva’s eyes widened. “Is this place a... farm?”
“A farm? Not exactly...” he sighed. “But the principle is more or less the same, I suppose.”
A cacophony of thoughts rushed into her head, but she silenced them by reflex. Just like in the desert, she thought. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other.
She sighed and shrugged.
“I understand,” she almost whispered, and slowly, with a deep breath and steely determination, placed her feet in the cold metal stirrups. “Like this?”
“Yes, perfect,” confirmed Martin, moving the curved device over her lower stomach in his unhurried, rehearsed, dispassionate manner.
“This won’t hurt, right?” Neva couldn’t hide a tiny wince.
“No, you shouldn’t feel a thing,” replied Martin.
As the machine whirred for a few seconds, he applied a very large dollop of clear gel to his hands. His right hand firmly planted itself on her lower stomach, sliding lower and lower until his palm rested between her parted legs. Just as Neva tensed up, he removed his hand, focusing on the machine’s readout.
After a tense minute or so, he nodded with approval and hit the button again. The device and the stirrups obediently retracted. He grabbed a small towel, wiped off the gel, and tossed it into another bin.
“And we can check that off as all good as well,” he said after handing her another canteen of cool water, sitting down on his stool, and consulting the forms and the tablet. “Looks like you are in perfect health. Just two little things left. Ready?”
Neva nodded. Martin rolled back in his chair and motioned for her to stand up and turn around. As she did, she suddenly felt his fingers on the small of her back and immediately glanced over her shoulder. He was studying the dark swirl at the base of her spine.
“You must’ve had the infection as a baby,” he said, shaking his head, his fingers tracing the geometric design containing it.
“I promise, I’m not contagious...” she started.
“Don’t worry. I’m a survivor too,” he smiled wryly and rolled up his right sleeve.
His symbiotic structure swirled across most of his arm, also held in place by intricate medical tattoos. Which meant that his limp was... Neva’s blood ran cold at the realization.
Another robotic arm came out of the table. She squealed just a little as the middle of her right buttock burned for a few moments. A black barcode was now seared into her flesh, tattooed by the laser. A strong, light, well-padded collar with a thick latch made of a metal resembling polished chrome snapped shut around her neck, sealing itself as if it were a single, seamless, solid structure.
Turning around, she once again saw all emotion drained from his face. He looked her over and made a final check on the forms.
“Welcome to Eden,” he intoned.
In a dark, cold office, a tablet slid across a white table. A wrinkled hand with long fingers grabbed it, pulling it into the gloom. Its owner examined the information on its display with a frustrated grunt.
“Entire team. May be a total write-off,” said the uniformed assistant with an appropriately grim frown. “Monitors finally confirmed the incident but couldn’t trace what happened after that with any degree of confidence.”
“Second one in three months,” grunted his boss. “Any sign of their involvement in this one?”
“No sir,” the reply came quickly and confidently.
“Well, thank heavens for small mercies. Still, we can’t keep on losing our people like this.”
“We’re scheduled for one more attempt in two days. Should we proceed given...”
“Yes. Find anything worth recovering. If I have to take this up to the other Elders, I need all the data I can get.”
“Understood sir,” nodded the assistant, taking the tablet out of his boss’ hand, which retreated back into the shadows.
Martin flexed against the restraints holding him down on an operating table. Large magnets lined its sides, pointed at the joints in his legs, his hips, and along his ribcage. Satisfied with the new position, he lay back down.
“Sorry we have to resort to this Martin,” said the Scientist, adjusting cryptic settings on the computer terminal in front of him. “But your tolerance for sedatives and painkillers is just too high now, and we only have so many supplies.”
“I get it, let’s just do this as quickly as possible,” Martin nodded in reply.
“Just a few more little tweaks,” purred the Scientist. “If only they hadn’t done such a botch job on you...”
“Yeah, well, they used the tools they had.”
“By the way, I saw the forms for your new intake. Interesting specimen. I’m sure you’re looking forward to it.”
“We’re both just working for our keep.”
“But nevertheless, I’m sure it has its... moments.”
Martin remained silent.
“Ah! There we go!” smiled the Scientist. “Ready?”
“Ready,” nodded Martin.
The magnets began to whine, powering up. The whine became lower and deeper, turning into a low, menacing hum. Martin’s eyes closed, his lips clenched, and his body began to ever so slightly twitch. As the hum hit its peak, a series of cracks, both metallic and organic, emanated from his joints and spine. The Scientist immediately shut off the magnets and retracted them into an assembly hanging from the lab’s ceiling.
“Now you’re in alignment!” he chortled.
Martin merely groaned in reply as the restraints pulled away. After taking a few deep breaths, he hopped off the table, stretched and flexed, then took a few steps. His limp vanished.
“Thank you,” he finally said, still wincing in pain.
He grabbed his walking stick and headed to the door.
“Of course Martin, you know there are only so many more times we can do this,” noted the Scientist. “Like I said, they did a real botch job on you. I’d say at the rate you’re going, six months to a year. Beyond that, we can’t justify the resources and what we do have won’t do you much good.”
“Well, you did tell me six months to a year six months ago,” replied Martin. “I’ve been on borrowed time for a while. Not exactly a new development for me.”
“I’m glad you‘re being pragmatic,” nodded the Scientist as Martin headed for the exit and grabbed the door handle. “Oh, and please keep me apprised of how things are going with... Neva, was it?”
A nod and an affirmative hum on his way out was the entirety of Martin’s response.
Instead of having to hide in some rocky crevice as she had for quite some while, Neva was resting in a room all to herself. Not only that, but she was on a real bed, with real sheets, blankets, and pillows. And before that, she was even fed a more than decent dinner. Yet she tossed and turned, her mind buzzing.
She sat up and looked around the room. It was sparse, but comfortable. The bed was nice and wide, situated by the wall opposite the door, with a nightstand on each side. A window looked out into a courtyard. There was a desk with a chair, some built-in shelving, and a sleek, plush lounge seat with a footrest. Behind another door was a bathroom. There was no shower, but that didn’t matter. By her most recent standards, this was downright lavish.
Likewise, there were no bars on the window and the door locked from the inside with a simple switch. Aside from having no clothes and the collar around her neck, it’s as if she were a concubine in the opulent palace of a regional warlord.
Though, come to think of it, the desert outside, with its roaming bands of bandits, slavers, and mysterious “wanderers,” was probably all the bars and locks that were necessary. She could escape, but where was she going to go? She barely made it a month on her own, and if the slavers hadn’t caught her and sold her to this place, it’s an open question how much longer she would have lasted.
Neva wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but when she opened her eyes, the room was flooded with bright light from the window. As her eyes focused, she saw Martin sitting in the lounger, reading a thick book with small, slightly faded glyphs made of sharp lines and dots scattered across its pages.
She groaned, rubbing her eyes, groggy and struggling to sit up.
“Mhmm,” he replied. “Good morning to you, too.”
“How long have you been here?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Not long,” he shrugged. “Want some breakfast? You will need your energy today.”
“What’s today?”
“Orientation.”
After making their way through a small courtyard and past another wing of rooms, Neva and Martin stood in front of a large, imposing, jet-black door with strange red markings. The walk was brisk, as she still hadn’t been given any clothes. Covering herself seemed like it would slow her down, and she was always taught not to demand anything from the locals.
Following her guide with her head down, avoiding eye contact while watching her bare feet step across the cool, impeccably polished stone tiles seemed like her best option.
While trying to work out what orientation might have meant, her mind returned to the most disturbing fact she knew so far. This was one of the farms, one of the places Elders both kept very meticulous track of but also refused to discuss. Any questions that required them to go into detail were met with deflections, or curt attempts to plead ignorance.
Obviously, she had some idea what must be happening. But now it seemed like she was about to experience the details of their day-to-day operations firsthand. The biggest question was in what capacity.
Martin fished out a key from his pouch and unlocked the large, ornate doors, silently inviting her to enter. Inside was an imposing chamber with massive skylights. In the center was a circle of heavily padded leather.
Thick chains with cuffs resembling the collar around her neck extended from the floor. A bright red X marked the center of the padded circle. Something told her this was where she had to stand, the feeling confirmed by a glance at his expressionless face. Nervously, she walked to the mark.
“What is this space?” she asked.
“It’s where the work gets done,” replied Martin. “You said yourself what this place is. And this is how its overseers chose to... let’s say, fulfill its purpose.”
“What happens if I don’t do this?” she heard herself ask.
“You’ll be sent back into the Wastes,” he replied. “Or the lab. If given the choice, I’d ask for the Wastes. You’d at least have a chance in the Wastes.”
A shiver ran up Neva’s spine.
“Don’t take it personally,” Martin added. “They’re interested in what we can produce, not us. If they get interested in us, that’s bad. You want to stay under the radar here, do the job the citadel needs from you, earn your keep, get your meals, and make it to tomorrow to do it again. It’s what all of us here are trying to do. It’s not the worst way to survive.”
Neva bit her thumb in contemplation. The lab. That must be what the Elders didn’t want to talk about. There were rumors. So many rumors. Maybe if she cooperated, she could confirm some of them for herself and pillage some useful tools. A plan started to come together. Maybe this Fixer had the right idea when he described this as an exchange.
“I suppose this does sound better than the Wastes,” she finally huffed in reply. “All right, Fixer, do your worst.”
“Please, on all fours,” said Martin, his eyes quickly darting toward the wall, then back to her.
Neva assumed the position. He clamped the chain on the floor onto the latch on her collar and gave it a gentle test tug.
“Everything is padded for your safety,” he began as he started to cuff her wrists and ankles. “But try not to make any sudden moves or tug on any of the restraints too hard, so as not to dislocate one of your joints. A lot of adrenaline will be flowing through your system, and you will pull harder than you think.”
His delivery was as flat as any other safety briefing, recited from rote memory as he tested the chains and the integrity of the locks on the cuffs now secured around her limbs.
A slight shudder traveled up her spine. This was intimidating, and yet, it didn’t feel malicious, just cold and impersonal. The tugs on the chains were measured, and the padding was soft and smooth against her skin.
Plus, she thought, Martin wasn’t one of those grimy, loud, malodorous desert slavers with missing teeth and a breath that could easily be mistaken for a chemical weapon. He had his own masters and obligations. She tried to will herself to relax, holding back a yelp as she felt his hand spreading a cool gel on her lower stomach.
“Just take a deep breath, exhale through your nose, and I’ll try to make this as efficient as I can,” he said, carefully feeling for any aberrations missed during his initial exam.
Inexplicably, she felt a light vibration radiating through her lower half. Martin’s fingers gently yet firmly slipped down between her inner thighs, sending more intense vibrations through her body.
With a low moan, Neva arched her back, raising her ass as high as she could. Suddenly, he stopped and moved behind her. She could hear his tunic and hiking pants hit the padding behind her. His hand landed on her left buttock, and she relaxed into it almost reflexively, surprising herself. One of his fingers effortlessly slid inside her, eliciting a moan and squirming as he slid in another finger.
“Is that all you got, Fixer?” she scoffed.
In reply, he disengaged, grabbed a metallic loop, and tugged on it. Her neck chain yanked her face-first into the padding and now held her there.
“Don’t get too feisty, we haven’t even started,” said Martin.
Before she could catch her breath, she felt his tip slip inside with alarming ease. After a moment, he continued. She could feel herself being stretched and filled. Her hands desperately tried to grab on to something, but found nothing except for a patch of smooth padding. Finally breathing again, she moaned.
“Almost there,” he said.
She squealed as she felt him bottom out, buried inside her to the hilt, grinding his hips into her, his still vibrating hand pressing down on her lower stomach.
“Oh fuck!” she hoarsely let out.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“What do you... mean how?” she groaned, her brain starting to go fuzzy.
“How do you feel?” he asked again. “Are you doing okay?”
Her reply was another groan.
“Let’s try it another way,” he mused.
Slowly, his hips began to move, gaining a little more speed with every thrust. His hand let go of the handle, and Neva’s head shot back up. She turned, glaring at him with a scowl, taking in the swirling, dark patterns and markings which stretched from the right side of his chest, down his arm to nearly his wrist, and ending somewhere around the middle of his thigh.
It took a moment for her to realize what she was seeing, but as soon as it dawned on her, her eyes snapped wide open in shock. How far gone is he? There was no way he was still...
Her thoughts were interrupted by his hands now firmly wrapping around her hips as he picked up the pace. She could feel him coming close to bottoming out again, but pulling back right before pleasure turned into pain. Her hands tried to reach for her mound, but the chains once again denied her. She landed on her forearms with a thud and an angry snarl.
“Please...” she heaved. “Please... can you...?”
“Can I what?” he asked.
“Do the thing... with the vibration... right on my clit.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m...”
“Because why? Finish your sentence, please.”
“You’re fucking me... too hard for me to do that!”
“Should I ease up?”
“No! I’m so close... I want to... I want to cum! Please!”
Mercifully, his right hand moved back down to her lower stomach, and she could once again feel the vibration.
“There!” she yelped as his fingers touched right above her swollen clit.
As the vibration rocked her body, her kegels tightened, clenching him in what felt like a velvet vise. She felt him putting more effort into keeping his previous pace, his shaft throbbing as he did.
“Are you... going to cum too?” she asked.
“I think so,” he replied, but now in an obviously labored tone.
“Please... if you let me cum, you can cum too, ok?”
Moments later, she felt the climax rock her body. She let out a scream as her forearms slipped. Martin lost his grip, and she felt a sudden splash of warmth across her ass and lower back. In her convulsions, she pushed him out at the last second.
“No!” he suddenly growled, a forceful spank landing on Neva’s left buttock. “That’s the exact opposite of what you had to do! You know that!”
“What?” she groaned, but quickly realized what happened as her senses returned. “Wait, shit! I didn’t mean to!”
“You know where you are and why!” He yanked on the handle once again, firmly planting her face into the padding with just barely enough room for her to breathe.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she squealed. “I’ll do it right next time!”
“Oh, I know you will. I’ll make sure you remember,” he seethed.
An icy chill traveled down her spine. This sudden change from a dispassionate job to casual sadism, to anger, was giving her whiplash. Even more unnerving was the cold, removed harshness of his tone, like a character testing his range.
His hands now gripped her ass like predatory talons, and she couldn’t help but feel an inhuman rigidity to the fingers in his right hand. A wave of panic gripped her as his right thumb covered her other hole and began to slowly pulse.
“Wait! Wait! No, I understand, I promise!” she cried.
His thumb, slick with lubricating gel began to sink into her ass.
“And now I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it,” he calmly said as it fully penetrated her.
“I don’t think I can take that lesson,” she pleaded.
“And I think you’re lying to me again.”
“Why do you...?”
She didn’t finish her question as he pulled out his thumb and touched his tip to her now pulsating hole. With a gush of warm, slippery gel, she felt his tip burrow in and stop. After a few huffs, she caught her breath, still pinned to the floor, and as soon as she did, he pushed in deeper. Slowly but surely, millimeter by millimeter, most of him was now inside her ass as she let out a whine that turned into a moan and then into a low-pitched gasp.
“Oh... My... Fuuuuck...” she finally managed to let out.
He started moving, little by little at first, but was gaining both speed and momentum. Neva was no longer worried about keeping it together, moaning and swearing with every other thrust. In her fury, she managed to lift her head off the padding, pulling the chain attached to her collar against Martin’s grip.
“Who the fuck... do you think you are?” she roared. “Just fucking my ass... like that? You wanna teach me a lesson? You’re gonna... have to... go harder than that!”
“As you wish,” he said, yanking on the chain again, sending Neva face-first back into the pads.
His thrusts rapidly sped up. Her feet tried to find firmer footing, her legs shaking, her breathing labored. She felt so incredibly, unbelievably full, every thrust hitting something that felt good. Not enough to make her climax again, but with just a little play with her...
Her hands were once again denied by the chains. She howled in frustration as his hand came down on her ass once again, hard. He barely even slowed his rhythm while she gripped the padding and bared her teeth in frustration.
“If you’re going to cum, let me cum too!” she begged. “Please!”
“And where do you want me to cum?” he asked.
“My pussy!” she begged. “You need to cum in my pussy!”
After another thrust, she felt him pull out of her ass, and just a few moments later, slide back inside her, maintaining the same furious pace. Instinctively, she bucked her hips and felt the chain around her neck loosen. His right ring and middle fingers curved over her clit, once again vibrating.
“Cum! Cum! Come on!” she chanted. “Fill me up already and let me fucking get there!”
Her eyes almost rolled back into her head as she came. Her body shook, but this time she made sure to push back on him to take him inside her as far as he could go. He suddenly stopped for a moment, and she could feel his hands clamping down around her body. Without making a sound, he came deep inside her, pulsing again and again with explosion after explosion.
Catching her breath, she looked up to see the chain linked to her collar in his hand, his throbbing erection slick with all her fluids, hovered an inch away from her face.
“Now, clean it up,” he ordered.
She glanced down at the chain and looked back into his eyes. Unsteadily, she gently licked the underside of his tip and gingerly wrapped her lips around it.
With a disapproving grunt, he yanked the chain, forcing himself further into her mouth as her eyes grew wide. With yet another yank, he pushed even further down her throat, grabbed the back of her head with his left hand, and with a steady, practiced motion, began to fuck her throat.
To his surprise, after a short adjustment, she began to push herself even deeper down on his now throbbing member, straining with sounds even he found a bit alarming while watching the distention of her throat with a mix of awe and approval.
“I’m going to cum if you keep going like that,” he warned.
With a pained gasp, she pulled back, freeing her mouth.
“Don’t waste it,” she said before licking his tip again, “unhook my hands and let me ride you.”
He nodded and quickly released her wrists and collar and slid under her as her newly freed hands gently stroked and guided him back inside. The warmth inside her now felt like a pulsing inferno, every thrust seemingly effortless. His hands reached out and grabbed her breasts, firmly but not roughly, fondling them.
“Are you trying to edge yourself?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Then just cum!” she instructed.
He complied, grinding into her while exploding once again. After a few moments to get his wits back about him, he slowly and carefully flipped Neva onto her back without withdrawing and raised her legs over his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Well, I think I’m going to walk funny for a day, and my ass is on fire, and I’m definitely gonna get some bacterial infection from all that, but otherwise just fine,” she grumbled.
He nodded in acknowledgement and tried to steal a glance at the wall again. Ordinarily, Neva would’ve noticed this little detail, but her head was still swimming from the adrenaline high and simply refused to register it.
“You did well,” said Martin. “Now, let’s go clean up.”
The vault was once again opened, this time by a worker pulling a trolley with a bucket and a collection of mops. He began dutifully cleaning the padding, working his way towards one of the curved walls.
When he was within reach, he looked for a small triangle under the lens of a camera aimed at the center of the chamber. He pressed it and collected the blue crystal cube which extended out on a pair of finger-like robotic appendages.
Neva lay on her stomach, her dinner half-finished on the table. Even though she was still a little hungry, she couldn’t bring herself to empty the plate. After a long, hot shower and the application of various ointments and creams to help soothe and sanitize her poor bits, she felt downright amazing. But now, both the medication and the adrenaline were wearing off.
Martin sat in the chair, finishing more paperwork. His manners were just as polite and professional as before.
“Hey, Martin,” she started. “What did you mean when you said that I was lying to you again?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, not lifting his head from his papers.
“And how can you make your hand vibrate like that?” she tried again.
“Just a little trick,” shrugged Martin.
“Am I asking too many questions?”
“We’re coworkers. Let’s make sure that we keep it professional and polite.”
A knock on the door preempted her rebuttal. A man peered in and, after a quick nod to Neva, turned his attention to Martin.
“Hey, Martin, can I steal you for a bit?” he asked. “They want an update.”
“You’re kidding me,” mumbled Martin and turned to her. “Please excuse me. There’s more ointment in your bathroom if you need it.”
With that, he followed the messenger, leaving her sore and no closer to any answers.
Martin and the man walked down the winding stone paths towards the center of the complex. Coming to a fork, Martin tacked right while his colleague hung a left and started to walk on a downward slope.
“Xavier, that’s not the way to the admin offices,” said Martin with a suspicious grimace.
Xavier paused, mulling his next words carefully.
“I need your help,” he said. “Something’s wrong. I just lost my newest Vessel. They took her to the lab, and I haven’t seen her for almost a week.”
“You know as well as I do that once they go to the lab, whatever happens is out of our hands.”
“And you’re not the least bit suspicious?”
Martin only sighed heavily in reply.
“It’s my third vessel in four months,” Xavier shook his head. “I overheard them. I think they want to take your new one too.”
“Why?” asked Martin.
“I don’t know. All I heard them say is that she’s not who she says she is.”
“This is why they say ‘don’t get attached.’ You’ll end up doing stupid shit like this.”
“So... does this mean you’ll help?”
“Think about it. There are guards, patrols, spies... If you were just going to sneak around and hope you’ll find your way in, you’re going to find out what happened to the Vessels, but that’s going to be the last thing you do.”
“You’re probably right. Just forget I said anything.”
“Now, why did they want an update on Neva?”
The corner of Xavier’s mouth twitched into a sinister smile.
“They found... some inconsistencies,” he replied.
Martin and Xavier walked into the palatial office of Bartolo, the Supervisor of the citadel, and took their usual seats. As he adjusted his position, Martin couldn’t help but yawn, trying to cover his mouth as quickly as possible.
“My apologies,” he said. “Long day.”
“We saw,” replied Bartolo, leaning to the side.
Behind him, a whole menagerie of holographic cubes resting on a desk showed either 3D freeze frames or video loops from the padded chamber. In the center, five screens showed Martin and Neva in various positions, the last one focused on her riding the Fixer, her face utterly lost in pleasure.
“Right, of course,” nodded Martin.
“Tell me something Martin,” sighed Bartolo, nervously tapping the arm of his chair. “Does this... uh... Neva? Right? Neva? Does she strike you as some overgrown urchin of the Southern Wastes now that you spent some time with her?”
He menacingly glanced at the screens.
“No, she does not,” Martin dutifully shook his head.
“Okay, so she’s not who she says she is,” shrugged Xavier. “A lot of vessels lie, and we don’t get summoned to late-night meetings over them.”
“If she were just as meek and submissive as a lot of vessels, I wouldn’t care,” growled Bartolo.
“She is a bit of a power bottom,” mumbled Martin.
Xavier turned to him with a popped eyebrow.
“Right,” continued Bartolo. “She’s confident. Malnourished but still fit. Knows how to behave herself, more or less. She isn’t broken down by slavers or the desert. She has a strategy for this predicament, and Martin, following the rules, snapped her out of it for just a moment or two and regained control, but long enough. This is why we observe what happens in that chamber. If he couldn’t regain control, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.”
The Supervisor leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply.
“Have you heard of Yanzhen?” he finally asked.
“Yes, the ruler of Aus’a’ref in the Southeast, by the coast of the Inland Sea,” replied Xavier.
“Former ruler,” corrected Bartolo. “Word is, he was murdered last year. Clean hit, obviously by someone who knew what they were doing and could get close to him.”
“Do we know anything else?” Xavier perked up.
“No,” groaned Bartolo, leaning back in his chair. “That’s all we can verify. A few other warlords nearby and the Supervisor of Phex’a’ref were offed as well, details equally sparse, the hits equally clean and professional.”
“So, you’re thinking an assassin posing as a concubine or a Vessel is going around the Wastes killing important people on someone’s orders?” asked Martin.
“Precisely,” agreed the Supervisor.
Martin scratched his chin.
“All right,” exhaled the Fixer. “And between her behavior and the strange test results, you’re thinking the assassin might’ve been down on her luck, was caught by slavers, and ended up in my care?”
Another affirmative grumble.
“Do you want me to find out more, or are you just going to drag her away to the lab?” Martin leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Bartolo. “I understand we may have gotten a little overzealous with test subjects lately. It would be a shame if we didn’t at least try to find answers without just throwing our resources to Rahime and his Biohazard Brigade.”
“You really want to tell him that?” Bartolo let out a deep, throaty laugh. “He might adjust you a little... too tight for comfort next time. Although he’s not too keen to keep doing it, according to his latest reports.”
“I respect him as a scientist and appreciate his help,” replied Martin. “But he’s not a Fixer. He’s not an Investigator. All of his answers are going to be facts and figures translated from ancient equipment. And I know how to deal with people without menacing and complicated tools.”
Bartolo mulled his words for a few moments.
“Very well,” he said just as the pregnant silence started to become uncomfortably long. “You can have a few days to see what you can find out and report back. We’ll go from there.”
Martin hauled himself out of the deep chair with his walking stick. Xavier hopped up.
“Supervisor, since I have your...” he began.
“Dismissed,” barked Bartolo, turning around and starting the play loop on one of the holographic cubes.
The meeting was officially over, and his subordinates were to see themselves out. Just as they were leaving, two Vessels, both naked and collared, as was the standard, walked past them into the office and slid the door shut.
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