Taking her time this morning, Rivalle sauntered along the trail outside of her private estate, the last vestiges of the morning fog lingering around the patches of forest and low hills rimming the main area of the property. She listened to the birds chirping as they flew about, pausing to enjoy a few sips of her steaming herbal tea. Moving on after a flight of purple and red birds flew off from the nearby bushes, Rivalle passed by a row of hedges dotted with brightly colored, perfectly manicured flowers in all colors of the spectrum, breathing in their sweet scents as she passed by.
Though she spent much of her time in her office, she did enjoy the simpler moments she could spend with nature. As much as she’d grown used to urban settings, her elven blood still drew her to greener pastures from time to time. Simple pleasures, true, but even she needed to enjoy the peace and quiet nature afforded from time to time.
The servant behind her shadowed her path, barely noticed but for the squeak of their body-covering latex catsuit and maid uniform, and the jingle of the chains upon their wrists and ankles. They certainly didn’t protest their situation, thanks to the mouth-filling gag and thick hood upon their head. Rivalle couldn’t see any aspect of their face, just the smooth outline of it beneath the latex; even their eyes were hidden behind dark lenses, their ears contained within padded, oval-shaped pockets; had it not been for the length of those ear pockets, which were filled with noise-canceling padding and earplugs, Rivalle wouldn’t have known the servant was an elf.
After taking another sip of tea, Rivalle held her cup out to the servant, who obediently refilled the glass with more of the steaming brew, taking extreme care to balance the serving tray and pour the tea around the cuffs. Rivalle smirked, knowing that sooner or later, the servant would fail at their task, and she would receive a punishment. The servant knew it too. That would be another very amusing distraction.
Putting that brief distraction out of mind, Rivalle continued along the path, returning her thoughts to the business at hand. One of her many holding areas for her various pets lay ahead of her, and it was a particular pet that had her interest this day. The building itself was nothing flashy, very utilitarian, and once she was inside, the sweet scents of the morning were replaced with recycled air, filtered and scrubbed, sterile. Rows of doors lined either side of the building, each with a different number stenciled on the outside and glowing panel next to them; there were no windows on the doors, though she didn’t need them to observe her playthings.
Rivalle considered checking in on a few specific chambers while she was here, but decided to take care of business first. About midway down the corridor, she saw that the item she had ordered from one of her manufacturing facilities had been delivered, contained within a waist-high black case with the DSM logo in several places, as well as a series of barcodes and warnings in various languages.
Finally reaching the door next to the case, Rivalle finished the last of her tea and placed the cup on the servant’s tray, and touched her fingers lightly to the door itself, channeling a bit of magical energy into it, just a small electrical current. A rectangular section of the door shifted and became opaque, revealing the cell inside.
As expected, the occupant of the cell was where Rivalle had left her, in a state not unlike the others in this particular holding area. Although, unlike the others, this one realized that Rivalle was watching. Only a moment after Rivalle had activated the magical viewing portal did the occupant’s eyes open, her head lifting slightly, as much as the stout posture collar would allow, focusing on what would be just a blank door. The way her eyes narrowed and her fur bristled could leave no doubt that she knew exactly who was on the other side.
Like the other occupants of this particular holding area, the woman inside this cell was an assassin, hired by one of the upstart companies that sought to destabilize DSM by removing Rivalle from the picture. It was a recurring theme over the decades and centuries Rivalle had managed the company. It was dangerous at the top, quite a bit more dangerous than some would assume. Rivalle’s collection of would-be assassins was a clear sign of that; she had nearly a hundred of them currently, and would likely have a few more within the year assuming they survived the attempt on her life.
This one was a Ferakatian, a tall, lean, and muscular felinoid, with sandy-colored fur, mottled with orange and black spots, the fur of her twitching ears all black on the outside, the same mottled patterns on the inside. Her hair was long and wild, a warm shade of reddish-orange with a few mottled spots of black, spilling over her shoulders and framing her face. Her amber eyes glared at the door, angry and narrowed, perhaps with a hint of madness lurking within. Her tail twitched back and forth below her, the only part of her body that she could move.
Rivalle did have mercy, despite what some would think. Was it not merciful to offer a prisoner, especially one who had attempted to kill her, some amount of freedom during their confinement?
Of course, like the other assassins Rivalle kept, this one was completely unable to move her limbs; in fact, it appeared that she had no arms or legs at all, just silvery disks capped over the apparent stumps where her appendages used to be. Were she not secured to a framework built into the wall via a chest harness that wrapped around her breasts, held by a pair of robotic arms, she would be little more than a torso and head writhing on the floor. Her limbs were still there, of course, just contained within the small extra-dimensional spaces generated by the disks. The sensation varied based on the individual, with most experiencing a never-ending numbness, the feeling that their limbs were still there, but asleep. Others experienced more painful sensations as if the limbs had been truly severed.
Of course, the assassin had been further restrained with a severe collar and head harness, her mouth filled with a large, penis-shaped nourisher gag beneath the muzzle over her snout. And her lower holes had been filled with large inserts attached to another wall-mounted support, which kept her clean and either in pleasure or agony, depending on the whim of the program that controlled the restraints. Judging by the dripping fluids and her erect nipples, each pierced with a pair of thick silver rings, she had just finished a pleasure cycle.
Rivalle waved her hand over the door panel and the light turned green, the door’s locking bolts retracting before it slid open with a hiss. The scent of the assassin’s sexual fluids assailed Rivalle’s nose, but she kept her face suitably smug. “Murissa, so nice to see that you are enjoying your time as my guest.”
A low, threatening growl came from Murissa, her tail swishing back and forth as she writhed atop the plugs that filled her lower holes, her jaw twitching below the muzzle as her eyes continued to bore holes into Rivalle, though her eyes were beginning the twinge of desperation and madness that came before the inevitable mental break. She had only been in the cell for a handful of weeks…or was it months?…either way, hardly enough time for her to have broken completely, especially given her inborn mental resilience, a trait common with psychics. Although Murissa wasn’t an especially powerful psychic, it did give her an edge when on the hunt, a unique way of tracking her prey.
Rivalle’s lips curled into a slightly more amused smirk. “I happen to be feeling fairly magnanimous today, my pet. I feel that we can come to an arrangement that would be agreeable to both of us…one that would see you out of this cell and with gainful employment once again.”
This caused Murissa’s eyes to narrow into thin slits, but her ears shifted, her tail’s angry swaying slowing. Of course, she was interested; she couldn’t possibly miss an opportunity like this. They came so very infrequently with Rivalle.
“So eager to leave my care, are you?” Rivalle mused. She then lifted her left hand, making a quick motion with her fingers. The straps holding the muzzle in place unbuckled and pulled themselves free before the gag jerked out of Murissa’s mouth, trailing saliva from the tip of the long phallic shape, said tip having rested almost within Murissa’s throat. Rivalle let the gag float in the air close to the assassin, ready to go back in at a moment’s notice.
The captive assassin let out a low groan, working her jaw, freed for the first time since her initial confinement, unable to fully articulate speech as she remembered exactly how her jaw was supposed to work. “You…” she croaked, her vocal cords likewise unused to speaking after so long. “You… have…”
Rivalle rolled her eyes. This would take all day at this rate. She raised her chin and lifted her right hand, palm upward. “It’s a simple offer. I want you to assist one of my subordinates in retrieving something of mine, a person of very great interest to me. Once they are safely in my care, you shall have your freedom. A simple task for a hunter and assassin of your talent, no?”
Murissa’s jaw shifted, and her head lowered against the edge of the posture collar as she continued to glare at Rivalle. “What…what are…you not telling me?”
Chuckling, Rivalle’s lips curled into a sadistic grin. “So very much, but none of it you need to know. The offer is simple and with a very limited time to accept. Retrieve what I want to my satisfaction, meaning that they have suffered no permanent damage, and I will release you. Perhaps, if you prove yourself adept enough, I would be willing to make use of your services in the future. Is that not much more agreeable than this cell?”
Rivalle could tell that Murissa was conflicted. The assassin surely didn’t trust Rivalle, as Rivalle didn’t trust her, as was wise when it came to wild animals, but that was so often the nature of business. An electrical hum filled the air, and Murisssa grunted in pain as a sudden electrical jolt shot through the plugs in her pussy and asshole, then arced over the rings in her nipples. Such perfect timing!
As the hum faded, Murissa barred her teeth, either a smile or a snarl, Rivalle couldn’t exactly say which, given her lack of care to learn the nuances of ferakatian body language. “Very well,” she croaked. “I will do as you wish if it will get me out of this place.”
“Excellent. It’s good that you’re so reasonable. Now, shall we go for a walk to discuss the details before you are delivered to my employee?”
“Yes, a walk sounds wonderful,” Murissa replied in her rough voice, though her intense gaze had not shifted from Rivalle, very much the dangerous animal sensing an opportunity to strike. Her tail swished, and she wiggled atop the plugs. She was quite eager to have the ‘stumpers’ removed.
Such a presumptuous creature to think she would be free of those devices so easily! No, there was something much more amusing in store for the assassin. Rivalle’s lips curled into a grin that may have rivaled the ferocity of Murissa’s, the ferakatian losing some of her prior excitement at the prospect of freedom.
Rivalle let the gag fall to the floor and turned to the case, waving her hand over the control panel. With a series of beeps and clicks, the case unlocked and split open, a hiss escaping as the nitrogen it had been packed with rushed out. Rivalle stepped around the crate, smiling cooly at Murissa. A faint hum came from within before a louder mechanical grinding started, the object within being moved outside the crate.
“What is that?!” Murissa hissed, her eyes falling upon the device as it came into view, at first narrowing, then widening as she took in the details.
“A highly advanced piece of equipment from the R&D department,” Rivalle replied simply. The device that had been moved out of the crate whirred and several metallic clicks could be heard as it shifted its compacted form and expanded to its normal operating size and shape. “The concept was originally developed for some military contract or another, to build a highly efficient exoskeleton to boost a soldier’s performance. Naturally, we expanded markets onto the civilian front by modifying the designs to function for those who were severely handicapped, missing multiple limbs, or who could not survive without auxiliary life-supporting tech. That was…my, has it been that long ago now? Well, this is the prototype of the mark seven, so I suppose it has been.”
The look of realization upon Murissa’s face quickly turned to horror as the felinoid assassin saw what the device was changing into.
Rivalle continued to smile at Murissa, though it had taken on an undoubtedly more sadistic nature. If there was one thing that she truly enjoyed, it was watching her playthings squirm. “This device is designed just for you, my pet, to help with your handicap. With this, you’ll be able to move just as though you were walking using your own legs, and manipulate things just as if using your own hands. Of course, since this is for a new military contract, improvements had to be made, with the ultimate goal being to expand the operational combat time of soldiers in the field suffering grievous wounds.”
The assassin hissed as the frame’s expansion brought its height over the top of the crate, the mechanical arms to either side of it clicking into place, the exposed mechanical insides being covered by a thin nano-carbonate layer that resembled smooth skin, but with a decidedly artificial look. Her eyes went to Rivalle, filled with that delightful look of horror. “What is it for?! You…you can’t mean to…!”
“Oh, but I do! You’re an assassin, pet. One who came after me and killed several of my elite guards, and further destroyed several of my security robots. I simply can’t take any chances with you, can I?” Rivalle chuckled, snapping her fingers. The exo-frame stepped forward into the cell, turning in a circle before it backed into place beneath Murissa.
The arms holding the assassin aloft shifted, the plugs within her pulling themselves free before disappearing into a panel set into the wall. She squirmed and snarled, glaring at Rivalle. “Let me out of these things! I’ll hunt your target as you wish, but this is not needed!”
“I can assure you, it is,” Rivalle replied, leaning against the crate, angling toward the cell as she watched. “I’ve been quite curious to see if this new design will function as intended, and I could think of no better field test. The design of the frame will interface with your limb restraints and you will perhaps feel a bit nauseated at first, but before long, you’ll be moving just as if they were natural.” Rivalle’s voice may have sounded reassuring, but the smile on her face and look in her eyes were anything but. “Do stop squirming, though; the plumbing connections are somewhat larger than those you have been used to.”
Murissa’s eyes would have melted Rivalle had she been that powerful a psychic. Though her rage burned hot, the assassin was just as helpless to resist as if she had still been secured upon the wall. The robotic limbs holding her aloft guided her over the frame, and the waist area opened wider, a pair of thick black plugs rising from within, glistening with lubrication. The precise movements of the robotic limbs compensated for Murissa’s squirming and positioned her over the plugs, lowering her upon them and skewering her with them in one quick motion.
The assassin roared at Rivalle, a deeply animalistic sound, her face twisted in a mixture of anger, fear, and revulsion as the thick intruders were secured via an inflation mechanism. Murissa barred her teeth as she continued voicing her protests, an obvious wince coming over her face for a moment, no doubt as the internal mechanisms fed the tube into her urethra. The waist section of the exo-frame closed and locked into place, giving a look very much like that of a pair of hip-hugging jeans, complete with a hole for her tail.
The upper part of the frame started moving then, a section rising upward at the back that resembled a spinal column, which then pressed against Murissa’s actual spine and to the base of the collar at her neck. As this clicked into position, the side sections rose and moved into position, the arms locking into place over the ‘stumpers’ with a louder click, and the sound of another locking mechanism sliding shut. The midsection began forming itself as well, into a form-fitting outer shell that resembled a bustier-type corset.
As the exo-frame made its final adjustments, Murissa’s hissing and snarling faded, her jaw dropping against the posture collar, her eyes darting downward at the unit, looking rapidly from one limb to the next. The limbs extended and reshaped slightly, forming into a more lithe form, and with protrusions that resembled her natural claws at the ends of the mechanical toes. The suit had been programmed with Murissa’s measurements, and the shape-shifting metals were adapting themselves to match now that the device had connected to her. There were a couple more locking devices that rotated into place within the hip area, and several lines of blue-white energy began flowing through the limbs and rest of the frame, feeding power throughout. The only visible parts of Murissa at the moment were her head, tail, and breasts; everything else was covered by the exo-frame and collar.
The assassin seemed overwhelmed for a moment, a brief look of helplessness passing over her face as she took in her situation, but then it was gone, her intense hatred again directed at Rivalle. She growled, grunting and shifting ever so slightly beneath the frame, shaking after a moment and gritting her teeth with effort. “I thought you said I could walk in this!” she snarled.
“You can, pet, but only when I allow it,” Rivalle said, standing from where she had leaned on the crate before stepping around it. As she was now, the assassin was much taller than Rivalle, her species being naturally larger than many other humanoid species; well, the females anyway, ferakatian males were quite a bit smaller, more like the average humanoid. In fact, Rivalle eyes were level with Murissa’s exposed breasts for the moment. The moment didn’t last, because Rivalle raised a hand and motioned downward at the floor with a single finger.
Murissa moved, the frame dropping her to her knees in one smooth motion, and shifted her forward so that her head was bowed, her arms on the floor in front of her. She snarled again, tail thrashing behind her as she shook her head back and forth, trying to will the frame to move.
“Do you understand now? No, I suppose not entirely,” Rivalle said. She wasn’t going to tell everything, certainly. This was indeed a new prototype, but unlike previous designs that were purely mechanical, Murissa’s frame had been woven with magic from the ground up. The arcatech was designed very much like golems from the old days, keyed to obey specific people and to be unable to function unless instructed to do so. “What it means, to put it in terms you would understand, is that you will do nothing without my permission. I could leave you as you are now, and you wouldn’t be able to make that device move no matter how hard you tried. While you are upon my moon, you will have no freedom of movement that I do not allow. Should you attempt to assault me, even though the frame would prevent you from actually reaching me, you will be punished. Severely.”
To emphasize her point, Rivalle made another motion with her hand, sending a mental command to the exo-frame. Murissa screamed, writhing within the unmoving frame as a violent electrical burst shot through her body, straight through the ‘stumpers’ to her nerves.
The burst only lasted for a second, but it was enough for the assassin to be groaning and twitching inside the frame, her fur standing up. Rivalle couldn’t see her eyes given their downcast angle, but she could imagine the look as the assassin mewled. “Now that the demonstration has been given, do you wish to pursue our business, or shall I have you positioned outside to be used as a bird stoop? Or perhaps a fountain?”
Murissa let out a hissing sigh but nodded. “I am ready, yes. I…understand what you have said.”
Rivalle couldn’t resist the urge that suddenly came over her. “Mistress. Call me ‘mistress’, pet. Tell me you will obey your mistress.”
Murissa’s tail swished angrily again, and she growled, but despite her resistance, she complied. “I will obey you, Mistress Rivalle.”
It had been said in a cold monotone, but Rivalle could still sense the anger and rage roiling just beneath the surface. It was fine, though; she was already learning like a good pet. Even a ferakatian beast could be trained, it seemed. Another test was needed, though. “Good. Now that we have an understanding…you will kiss each of my shoes, as a sign of loyalty.” She silently released the restrictions on the frame’s movement.
Murissa jerked suddenly, almost as if she’d been slapped by the command, but it may have been from the sudden unlocking of the frame. She glanced up, face still full of hatred, but then lowered herself further, putting her face to the floor. Obviously fighting her natural instincts that were likely telling her to bite, Murissa managed to control herself and placed her lips upon Rivalle’s left shoe, licking the tip, then repeating the gesture on the right one. “Is that acceptable…mistress?” she said in a hissing tone.
“Good enough,” Rivalle replied, turning to her servant, who quickly refilled the teacup again before passing it to Rivalle. “You may rise and follow; I shall tell you of your target on the way to the landing platform. You’ll be setting off with my subordinate at once.”
“Just tell me who I’m after and where they were last spotted,” Murissa said quickly. “…Mistress,” she added after a moment of hesitation. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Rivalle chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t. You’re such a big girl after all.” Rivalle made sure that it sounded as condescending as possible. The low growl that sounded from behind her as she started walking toward the exit told her she’d hit the mark. “Saida is not going with you simply as a babysitter. You will need a support technician for your frame, and you will need someone much more adept than yourself when it comes to dealing with people. Besides, she has intimate knowledge of your target, Reina Pridewing. Human, female, last spotted boarding a transport bound for the edge of the Demon Sector, and presumably to board another one going into it, to Aphelion Station.”
“Demon Sector?” Murissa asked, her voice revealing a rather surprising hint of uncertainty, maybe even fear.
“Don’t tell me that the unknown fills you with that much fear. It’s space like any other region of the known galaxy, simply locked away behind an ancient magical, multi-dimensional barrier until now,” Rivalle replied in a dismissive tone. “Or do you hold to your people’s superstitions about the region?”
Murissa was silent for a moment as they passed out of the building. “They are just stories…mistress.”
Rivalle wasn’t entirely convinced that was what Murissa thought, but it was good enough. There were other methods of getting her to obey than just the pain induction within the frame, after all, and Saida was well aware of all of them. “Then there shouldn’t be any difficulties bringing this human back to me, yes?”
“None. Once I have her scent, she won’t hide for long.”
In that statement, Murissa had sounded completely confident in her abilities. Rivalle took a sip of her tea. “Excellent. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Rivalle tapped the frame of her glasses, which she didn’t need for reading nor for correcting vision. Rather, her glasses contained various arcane image enhancement modes and a HUD interface which was connected to her corporate networks. Having had the files prepared already, she pulled them up, blinked, and snapped her wrist toward Murissa to send the data to the receiver within the exo-frame.
Noting the faint beep and flashing indicator near her mechanical wrist, the assassin raised her arm to examine it. The motion brought the small hologram projector online, a faintly glowing image appearing in the air in front of her. Aside from a detailed outline of the target’s history from birth to the present, a psychological profile, a list of likes and dislikes, and social media data, the file contained several images of Reina Pridewing, including the basic ID photo, but also several others showing full-body images, clothed and nude, typical styles of dress, even the different hairstyles she had worn over the recent years.
The assassin growled in a low, curious manner after studying the data, eyes seemingly intent upon a particular image of Reina, as if she were staring eye to eye with the woman. “I see nothing about why this one is special to you,” she said at last.
“She has taken valuable corporate data with her,” Rivalle replied smoothly. She knew exactly what it was that intrigued her about Reina Pridewing, and it had nothing to do with corporate secrets. Rivalle had begun a project over two centuries ago, delving into one of the greatest mysteries of the age, which, were she to solve it, would lead to unimaginable wealth and power. Though Saida had been brought into the fold, as had other agents before her, none of them possessed full knowledge of what Rivalle sought. “You will not need to retrieve any sort of data storage devices; the knowledge she took is within her. I simply need her returned in pristine condition.”
Murissa rumbled in response, her eyes still focused on the image. She walked much more smoothly already, easily following behind Rivalle at a distance of about ten feet, the suit’s protective programming not allowing her closer for the moment. Her gait was even taking on a more fluid sway as her natural tendencies were analyzed and adapted by the magic within the exo-frame. “This won’t take long.”
Rivalle raised her chin but remained silent for the moment. Reina was already beyond the Demon Barrier, had already reached Aphelion Station a minimum of two weeks ago, and from there, it was untelling which one of the various research stations, startup colonies, or mining operations she may have gone on to in the nearest of the explored regions. She may have even joined a deep space exploration team and was headed toward another of the seventy-two major star systems that had been identified before the sector had been breached, named after some of the most powerful demons on record.
Murissa flexed her fingers, finally removing her eyes from Reina’s image, and noticed the claws that were built into her hand. The holo images flickered out of existence and she snapped her fingers, the claws extending as if they were her own, though these were actually refined mythril alloy. Another growl came from her, her lips sliding back to reveal her fangs as she looked to Rivalle, but only for a second before the claws retracted and she lowered her arm. “You will provide me with the gear I need, yes, Mistress?” She let the last syllables of the title linger into a hiss.
“I’ve already had Saida load your personal equipment aboard the ship, as well as a selection of armor for your frame,” Rivalle said as they turned down another path, this one leading to the landing area for this particular part of her estate, dipping down into a wooded area. “Unless you’d prefer to go in as you are, of course. Your frame is composed of an impressively resilient alloy, though I suggest not testing that resilience more than you have to; it is an experimental prototype after all. You won’t exactly be close to a DSM repair center.”
The assassin growled again, tail swishing behind her. “Understood…Mistress,” Murissa hissed again.
The air was suddenly filled with the high-pitched buzz of engines on their pre-flight warm-up. Rivalle and her servant continued without change in their pace, though, she noted, Murissa came to a stop at the sudden loudness, ears flicking as she looked back and forth, her posture collar having reshaped itself into shorter design that would allow a greater range of movement, but would remain tight enough to remind Murissa that she was little more than a highly talented piece of property. She recovered a couple of seconds later and continued after them. Rivalle couldn’t have the noise of the landing area polluting her places of relaxation, could she?
Once they had passed through the woods, they came out on the edge of the clearing that was reserved for the landing platform. It looked like any other landing zone at a modern spaceport, with four platforms and support equipment for servicing and refueling ships, complete with its own robotic maintenance crews. For now, there were only two vessels docked, one of Rivalle’s personal shuttles that she had come in on, and a larger long-range light transport from the private fleet she had collected over the years, most from those who had made attempts on her life.
“Its name is the ‘Topaz Tigress’,” Rivalle said with a smirk, raising her voice over the whine of the engines. The growl of disapproval from Murissa was audible over the din, and Rivalle’s smirk grew wider. “A prize acquired from one of your predecessors who met with much less success than yourself about eighty years ago, refitted with the best tech DSM has on the market and some that isn’t. And there is your leash holder for this expedition.”
* * *
While Murissa’s immediate thoughts were centered around how she could possibly strangle Rivalle without the ridiculous contraption the elf had trapped her in frying her to a crisp, especially at the gall to have such a name for the ship chosen for the hunt, she nonetheless looked to where Rivalle had gestured. Another elven woman stood near the rear cargo lift of the transport, wearing a dark, lightly armored jumpsuit, the front of which was unzipped partially down from her neck to reveal her cleavage. This elf wasn’t as pale as Rivalle, and while shorter, had more meat on her bones, and wore her pale purple hair loose down her back. She was tapping away at a control pad, watching as a pair of loader bots stacked more crates on the lift.
When she finally turned, she nodded deeply to Rivalle, almost a bow, really, and then turned a disapproving glare at Murissa with her purple eyes from behind her glasses, showing some of the same smugness that RIvalle had, just not as much. Was that just an elf thing? Murissa felt her fur bristling, her fingers flexing, claws extending, then retracting with a faint metallic scraping sound.
She wasn’t going to like this elf either.
The other elf, Saida, Murissa assumed, turned her attention back to Rivalle. “We will be ready as soon as this last load is secured, ma’am. I was not expecting you to arrive quite so soon.”
Rivalle gave a dismissive gesture toward Murissa. “The assassin was more agreeable than I’d imagined,” she said, “and was quite eager to join the hunt. I’m sure you’ll have no problems with her.”
Murissa wasn’t sure what it was that the red-haired elf had done, but there was definitely something in Rivalle’s gesture that made her nose twitch, her skin tingle. It was the same kind of feeling she’d gotten when she sensed Rivalle outside of that damnable cell every time she had come by for a look. The elf had used magic, of that Murissa was certain, but what she had done, it was impossible to say. It was simply a natural instinct Murissa possessed that had clued her in on such things, and had proved quite beneficial over her years as a hunter for hire.
“Of course not, Director; the exo-frame is quite well designed. If there are any outstanding personality conflicts, I’m sure we’ll have a resolution by the time we reach Aphelion Station,” Saida said sweetly. “Any last words of advice?”
Rivalle gave a smile that seemed absolutely malevolent, and looked down at Saida for a second, then up to Murissa, and finally back to her subordinate. “Don’t fail me. I don’t respond well to failure, especially from one of my AR&D division members. Mistakes happen, just see to it that they don’t become habitual, Miss Entoris. Trust me when I say you would not enjoy the consequences. Perhaps one day you will be able to ask your predecessor about what that may mean?”
Rivalle turned gracefully and walked away, tailed by her hooded, faceless servant, Saida’s eyes widening with some realization as they followed the hooded servant. Murissa assumed it was worry that passed over the features on her elven face; she was certainly feeling quite uneasy herself at Rivalle’s icy comments. Saida’s distress was quickly replaced with anger as she spun and somehow managed to look down her nose at Murissa, though she was over two feet shorter than the ferakatian. “Well don’t just stand there, get aboard and prep for launch!” she commanded, pointing to the entry ramp.
Murissa remained motionless, looking at Saida, lips curling into a snarl. She felt a faint hum within the frame, right between her legs, and she could guess what was coming. “Is there something I should call you?” she growled. As her nose twitched, she caught the elf’s scent, at once committing it to memory and detesting it. She smelled like wildflowers, but with a sharpness to the perfumed scent that stung Murissa’s nose.
It occurred to Murissa then that she hadn’t picked up a scent from Rivalle, even when she’d been hunting her and had attacked the woman directly. She growled, her tail twitched again. Magic.
Saida’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossing beneath her breasts as her lips curled into a disapproving frown. “You may call me Lady Saida for now. When I give you a command, I expect it to be obeyed. Do I need to remind you of your position already?”
Tail swishing, Murissa gave a small shake of her head. “No, Lady Saida,” she replied, again flexing her fingers. This elf was very much emulating Rivalle in the way she carried herself and how she expected to have her orders followed, and that grated against Murissa’s nerves just the same, perhaps worse. The hum between Murissa’s legs grew more powerful, but when she suddenly started toward the ramp, it diminished, then faded. At least for the moment, she had a little bit of leeway on the leash but imagined that could change at a moment’s notice. There was a lot she didn’t understand about the frame Rivalle had trapped her in, and something about its nature wasn’t entirely mechanical, that was certain. More magic, most likely.
Reaching the top of the ramp, Murissa turned toward the cockpit, noting that despite the apparent age of the ship, it was immaculate on the inside, every panel in place, no grease stains or electrical burns from shorts, even the padding along the sharper edges was unmarred, and all the lights were glowing warmly. Even the armor plating on the outside had been spotless. Had it been stored in a garage all this time? Her hair brushed the top of the corridor, and she felt as though she would be bumping the walls if she weren’t careful. It was without a doubt not a ship designed for races her size.
“Your room is to the left,” Saida said, in a tone that was less informational and more commanding.
Knowing that she was in for a great deal of pain over the course of the hunt based on Saida’s attitude to date, Murissa nonetheless approached the next door to the left and pressed the button, and watched as it slid open. She growled yet again, tail swishing back and forth as her ears laid back.
The room was spartan, filled with equipment racks and lockers along three walls, and an array of monitors and diagnostic equipment on the fourth. In the center of the room was a large metallic surgical table with separate articulated extensions for the arms, legs, and head. Murissa could see the heavy-duty shackles secured to several spots, along with the various diagnostic connectors along the central axis of the table. Additional equipment was mounted in the ceiling above, looming overhead ominously.
Murissa heard Saida snap her fingers behind her, and a switch clicked across the room. The table’s robotics adjusted and reconfigured it, shifting the table into a slightly reclining chair. “Sit.”
Instincts telling her to grab the imperious elf and slam her against the nearest bulkhead until she lay crushed on the floor, Murissa felt the electrical tingle between her legs and along the disks that trapped her limbs and resisted the urge to try. Now was not the time, not when she was still so deep within Rivalle’s territory. Wordlessly, Murissa stomped into the chamber and turned to face Saida, easing herself into the chair. As expected, the stout shackles immediately clamped shut, and locking bolts slid into place at her wrists and ankles, thighs and biceps, with another crossing her midsection. Something clamped to either side of the collar about her neck, making it impossible to move her head. “What’s the matter, Lady Saida? Not afraid of me, are you?” she asked, hissing the elf’s name.
Saida had crossed her arms beneath her breasts, finally able to look down at Murissa properly. “Hardly. I simply have no time to deal with you right now, and I know how curious felines can be; I don’t need you pawing through the ship’s recesses and getting stuck somewhere.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, looking quite smug as Murissa tensed against the restraints, jerking at them futilely at the insult. “You are classified as a cybernetic lifeform currently, and as such, this is a fully functional cybernetic maintenance facility, with full surgical capabilities. Since you’re a prototype, certain rights have been waived in order to ensure proper system functions at all times. When I have no need of you, you will return here until I release you. Understood?”
“Yes, Lady Saida,” Murissa responded in a growl, fangs barred at the elf. Visions of tearing the elf’s jugular free from her scrawny neck flashed in front of her eyes; her flesh would taste wonderful, she was certain of it.
“Director Volcarri gave you the data file on your target, yes?”
“She did.”
Saida finally entered the chamber, sauntering to Murissa’s side. Their eyes locked, Murissa’s heated hatred meeting cold indifference. After a few tense seconds, Saida spoke. “Then I suggest you begin studying her scent; you do hunt by scent, do you not?” Again, it wasn’t a suggestion. Saida picked up a cylindrical container from a nearby surgical tray. She twisted the lid, and there was a hiss of air as the seal was broken.
Murissa’s nose twitched as the pungent scents started wafting out and Saida drew out a pair of skimpy purple panties, with some obvious signs of wear that still lingered. “Do you make a habit of collecting underwear from your corporate enemies?” Murissa smirked. “Or was it something else? Lover’s spat?” Murissa chuckled in a mocking tone.
Saida’s eyes narrowed, and there was a sudden reaction from the exo-frame, namely in a burst of electrical energy that had Murissa’s living body rigid, her mouth frozen open as the electricity played through the limbs she couldn’t see anymore, feeling as though her very bones were feeling the jolt.
As the surge stopped just as suddenly as it began, Murissa sagged against the chair, eyes rolling as she groaned. It took her a moment to focus her eyes back on Saida, who had returned to her cold smugness. She’d hit on something there, something that the elf hadn’t liked. Murissa was no telepath by any stretch of the imagination, but sometimes she had her moments of intuition. She’d have to file that nugget away for later.
Lifting the panties, Saida wadded them up. “Open your mouth,” she ordered.
Murissa kept her mouth shut, glaring up at the elf. Only the humming and faint beeps of the equipment in the room could be heard.
“Another lesson, then,” Saida replied in a tone of annoyance.
Murissa’s nethers were suddenly in pain, an intense burst of electricity shooting from both plugs, straight through her, the rings in her nipples following a moment later. This was a different kind of pain than what the exo-frame had created before, still painful, but not as deep or close to her nerves. Still, she couldn’t handle much more. Gritting her teeth, Murissa snarled and jerked, finally throwing her head back. “Stop it! I’ll do as you ask!” she cried.
“Of course you will,” Saida replied, the electricity continuing for a couple of seconds more before it finally ended. She held the wadded-up underwear out in front of Murissa’s face.
Panting through clenched teeth, Murissa reluctantly opened her mouth, at last, allowing the frail elf to push the wad deep inside. They were tiny by Murissa’s standards, but already she was getting a strong flavor and scent wafting from them.
“Fortunately, it seems that the target did not have time to do laundry before she took flight. A large beast such as yourself can’t be satisfied by just one pair, I’m certain.” Murissa’s eyes went back to the container, watching as Saida withdrew another pair, these black, and proceeded to stuff them alongside the first pair.
Murissa’s hands clenched into fists, her tail thrashing below her as a third pair was stuffed inside, then a fourth. A low growl came from her throat at the indignity of such a thing.
“So much room in there…I’m glad I took that into account when I stopped at the evidence locker,” Saida said, digging into the container again, this time coming out with two stained socks, holding them up with a look of distaste, the dirty imprint of the wearer’s soles and toes clear on the bottoms of them.
Feeling that her mouth was already more than full enough, Murissa could probably have managed to bite down enough to cause Saida pain, but again resisted the urge until she could find a way out of the damned frame and those accursed things on her arms and legs. The elf’s delicate fingers stuffed the socks inside, cramming them into the remaining space in Murissa’s cheeks. The scent of days-old sweat assailed Murissa’s nose, mixing with the different odors of the underwear, all forming a definite, identifiable scent. She would simply have had to have sniffed them for a few seconds to determine that much; no need to fill her mouth with them.
Saida wasn’t done, though, for she drew out another pair of socks, these even longer, probably knee length for a smaller humanoid than Murissa. The first one she folded neatly, making sure the stained areas of the toes were on the outside and pressed them against Murissa’s nose. The matching sock was brought around Murissa’s head and tied into a knot over the top of the first one, making sure it wasn’t going anywhere, and securing the rest of the stuffing in Murissa’s mouth. A final pair of panties were pulled from the container before Saida discarded it, this pair being fit, rather tightly, over Murissa’s head, the crotch positioned over the felinoid’s nose.
The elf picked up something else that had been stored nearby, holding it up for Murissa to see. It was a metal-reinforced muzzle, with breathing holes at the nose, though there was no gag inside it, with a trio of straps that ended in locking buckles. “It’s mainly to prevent wild animals from biting, but I don’t believe we’ll have a problem with that for now.”
She positioned the muzzle over Murissa’s mouth and nose, then guided the straps into place. Once they had clicked into position at the back of Murissa’s head, the straps tightened themselves, making Murissa grunt at just how tight the device became. Immediately her breathing became harder as all of her air was now coming through the small holes dotting the metal outer plate of the muzzle, further hindered by the socks and panties. The muzzle seemed to grow tighter, the plates shifting subtly to conform to her facial structure for a perfect fit.
“Perhaps if you behave in a sensible manner it won’t be needed later,” Saida said, stepping back from the chair. There was a beep from her wrist, and she looked at the small device she wore there, its screen flashing. A smile appeared on her lips, and she took a final look at Murissa before she left the room, the door closing and locking behind her.
A rumble came from somewhere outside the room, toward the rear of the ship, the rear cargo hatch closing. Murissa grunted and growled, twisting her head back and forth as she again tugged at the restraints. The smell of Reina Pridewing assailed her nose and tongue, and though she had never met the human, Murissa was already growing to dislike her, simply for providing such a method of humiliation to the smug elf. The engines hummed, pitching higher, and the ship lurched, lifting from the landing platform. In a moment, Murissa felt the pressure of rapid acceleration as the ship rocketed skyward.
Twisting her wrists, Murissa activated the holo displays, again showing the various images of Reina Pridewing. She bit down, squeezing some of the human’s flavor from the moistened underwear and socks, snarling beneath the muzzle as she committed every inch of the woman’s face to memory, tying it to her scent, her taste. It wouldn’t take that long. Then she would consider what she was going to do with Saida, and then Rivalle, for the humiliation the two elves had already caused her to suffer, and the further humiliations she would no doubt be forced to endure on the journey ahead.
This is another world building exercise I wrote a while back, developing some aspects of the setting and in particular exploring the nature of the setting’s big bad, Rivalle Volcarri, head of the DSM megacorp with century-spanning schemes and an uncanny ability to get what she wants.
This story came about also to introduce the characters of Saida and Murissa, who were in turn developed as part of the backstory for an friend’s character, Reina Pridewing, for an online game we played a while back. We had several good sessions before schedules and life intervened, but we do intend on getting back to the games eventually, especially once I get some more progress on my system tweaks and changes (I’m doing a homebrew based on the Saga Edition rules). I’ve recently started working on this a lot more, and will be posting some details about it in the near future.
But for now, I hope you enjoy this little tale. I had the idea to use the ‘stumpers’ in a story, and then the idea struck to combine it with a combat exo-suit to control the wearer, and Murissa was a character concept I’d wanted to use for years, so everything finally came together in a satisfying way. The sock and panty gagging is a bit over the top given the situation, but it was more a personal preference 😉
Until next time everyone, Urban out!
Hit me over on DeviantArt, or on my Discord server! I’m usually always around, and would love to hear what you have to say!
