Pleasure

A life of pleasure

She ushered the car which came for her away, choosing instead to walk to The Citadel. She knew she was lucky, such luxuries as vehicle transportation were not afforded to most, but then she wasn’t part of the masses and hadn’t been for some time. She didn’t really know whether being a Responsive was a blessing or a curse as sometimes it really seemed to alienate her from most people. She had a life of relative luxury, but it wasn’t the life of many. She was gold really, so few of them were left. The world had been Frigid for a long as she knew, but she had read about times in the past where her lusty forefathers took their pleasure in the same way as she was expected to do now. Carnally, completely, letting go and luxuriating in their own pleasure.

The world she had grown up in was, for the most part, devoid of sexual pleasure so she had never really known much else.  She was aware that in the past there had also been discreet genders and that, for a time, people were expected to follow a code which was attributed to that. It was never clear why things had changed, evolution she supposed, but change they had. There was sex for procreation, of course, but nobody actually chose to do it for fun. Well, at least, that was what she had thought. And it was the Thought Processor which had picked up on the fact that she was different, storing away the information in the annals of time, until, post Elucidation, it became currency.

She could not have understood the value, when they came for her, explaining that the Processor had thrown something up and they wanted her to come to The Citadel for tests. She had been treated like a princess too, experiencing the beginnings of a life which seemed unreal and yet, was within her reach. She probably would have taken them up on the offer, even if there had have been a choice. As it was, it was her duty and she could hardly complain when it was life of luxury and pleasure. She could hardly feel guilty, either, when the world depended on the output of her efforts. Responsives like her were almost of celebrity status.

They had offered her the position after the initial assessments were complete and her training at The Citadel followed straight after. They had called it training but she would have said it was more information gathering really, although the Processor made that much easier. She was shocked initially to see the images on her screen, the filth of her mind there in all its cinematic glory, her face reddening as she became wetter and wetter, watching them play out. Her tutor had commented on how easy she was and how well she was going to get on there. And there she was, five years on, one of their greatest assets, apparently. She had been awarded her eighth Service To City Award earlier this year, and that was virtually unheard of in such a short span of time.

Elucidation had meant that anyone who was a Responsive was precious, and those who could orgasm with the pace and intensity that she could were prized beyond everything, powering the otherwise darkened world with their ecstasy. It felt unfair sometimes as she enjoyed the work, even when really she felt like she could do with a break. Careful monitoring was part of the process though and they were always one step ahead, making sure that she never  burnt out. She had discovered that a lot of the people there, gender aside, were submissive and so it had been nice to know that the thoughts she had pushed away for so long were now something which was positive, instead of something she had to try to push down.

Arriving at the entrance she breathed in deeply and stepped into the foyer. Making her way up to her floor, she wondered what today would bring.  She had been here long enough to know most of the Orgasm Harnessers in a pretty intimate way and that made things more comfortable somehow. She felt at ease as she shed the skin of the outside world, and, placing her clothes in the locker, she took a card from the machine at the end of the corridor.  She was to start in Room 26, although the number was no real indication of what she could expect. She knocked and waited until the voice told her to enter. She immediately recognised the voice as Pearce, and she felt a little thrill.

 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Prompt #381: Frigid

 

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Posted in Fiction, Projects.

16 Comments

  1. I love your fantasy writings as much as your mythical creature stories, Missy … this one has an Anne Rice/Sleeping Beauty feel to it … an expanded version would be quite intriguing :>) … nj … xx

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