Chapter 14

The girl dangled at the end of a chain suspended from the ceiling. It was slack, now, but not because she was standing. All of her weight was supported by the thick rod mounted to the floor, penetrating her deeply. Her ankles we cuffed together as well, a simple rope, around them and her waist, kept her feet tight against her ass.

She'd been here for two days.

In the beginning, the girl had clutched the chains binding her wrists, in a vain attempt to avoid the fate underneath herself. But it'd taken less than an hour for it to slip in, and the first orgasm had finished the rest of the job.

Even as he watched, the long pole sprang to life. Its quiet buzz filled the air.

The effect on his syn was immediate. She whimpered, through the gag in her mouth, as the thing beat on the sore walls of her sex.

This would be her seventeenth climax. He knew, because the computer knew. It kept track. Claude had set the stimulation to her arousal levels- whenever they lowered enough for another one, it'd start vibrating again.

She hadn't eaten or slept since the incident.

The girl still whimpered, but no longer as a result of pain.

He idly glanced into her mind. She'd been obsessed with water, yesterday, and when she would be released. But there'd been no contrition- her only regret was the failure of her plan.

Alouette, gentille Alouette, she thought haphazardly. Alouette, je te plumerai. Alouette, gentille Alouette. Al-

Claude sighed. The repetitive song... thing had started a month after the party. The syn never seemed to know more than a few phrases, but she'd cycle through them over and over in her head- trying to keep him out, or perhaps take her mind off the situation.

The little exercise annoyed the hell out of him.

Sweat accented Renee's exhausted body as the vibrations did their work. She pulled herself half-heartedly off the staff, but her overworked muscles shuddered at the strain.

She fell back on it with a moan of despair.

He watched without emotion as it mercilessly tore the pleasure out of her, then continued its stimulation for a few minutes after the climax- when every pulse was an agony.

This wasn't about the songs.

Claude lifted the belt from the table, the heavy weight of the buckle swinging.

Nor was it her fixation with that boy.

The soft, authentic leather in hand warmed at his touch, and the approaching violence brought a degree of cold peace to him.

Or even his ever increasing frustration with her obstinacy.

He swung, the familiarity of the action bringing comfort. The steel buckle hit her left breast and inspired a muffled scream. Her stomach next; then a row of temporary welts along her rib cage. Her naturally unblemished skin was marked with his anger, all over.

She stopped shouting after the sixth strike, flinching only when he broke the rhythm; the girl hung limp until he grew bored.

He dropped the tool and tore the gag from her mouth.

"Renee," he growled.

No response.

"Speak, you little bitch." He slapped her across the face.

Her eyes, artificially blind though they were, focused slightly.

"S-sir?" she rasped.

"I just finished speaking with PLN's support." Claude had never liked dealing with technicians- no matter what their specialty, they always spoke as if the person that hired them knew what they were saying. The tiny man had talked of damaged artificial synapses, ambient values, intelligent uncertainties in the red- concepts he hadn't had to know since university.

The tech had used the terms to belittle him, hiding his laughter and mockery behind jargon he'd known Claude didn't understand.

"Do you have any idea how long the damage is going to take to repair?"

Renee didn't reply, which was probably a good thing. His fingers itched to strangle someone, and the man was long gone.

It was going to cost a fortune to recover the house's system completely. That wasn't so terrible- he had the money- but the earliest estimate the man had for him was three weeks.

Three weeks until all of his data was recovered.

Claude grasped Renee's breast, digging his fingers into her skin, and squeezed. Hard.

Three weeks of the fucking computer spewing errors like vomit, shaky terminal access at best, and no intuition at all.

She yelped. His hold didn't loosen.

"M-master- stop! Stop- please. I'm sorry! I'm sorry-" She wasn't, he knew. She was only sorry she was being punished.

Moisture she really couldn't afford to lose streamed down her face.

Claude was grimly amused by the stirrings in his pants. Even when he was pissed, he wanted to fuck her.