Drone
4
Shiver. A second of dizziness. A spark illuminated.
Alex’s eyes opened, unblinkingly, like shutters. Again, she fancied she heard a click. If she breathed, she would have drawn in a deep breath. Animation returned to her limbs, though they moved not so much as a millimeter. Ever so subtly, her tits lifted. She was in [Reactivation/Attention Mode]. She was [Awaiting Orders]. The familiar burning need for cock blazed anew from her pussy.
Alex stood straight and tall, naked.
What? she thought. Where? Inside, she scrambled, trying to collect her thoughts, which flew in every direction and hit nothing, connected to nothing. Where? Who? Where am I? Who am I? I’m burning. I’m on fire! What’s going on? Cock. Where am I? Master. Where’s my Master?
A wave of fear passed through her. I need a Master. I need sex. I need to be fucked.
What if she wasn’t fucked? Oh God, what would happen to her if she wasn’t fucked?
No. No, Alex thought. Hold on. Hold on! I . . I am . . I AM!!
For a second, that simple notion was enough.
I am . . I am [a pleasure drone] Alexandra zee Panara. I am [a drone] Baroness Panara.
Slowly, the inner tumult subsided. Alex exerted her willpower and collected herself. It was hard. Not being able to move, not being able to blink, was a seriously encumbering obstacle in the reorganization of her thoughts. People paced when they wanted to think. They gestured. They adjusted their stance, if only minutely. Alex could do none of these things. She had to clamber for every thought without any physical crutch whatsoever to help her. Added to the rampaging need of her pleasure drone body to be stroked and filled, fucked and used, Alex felt she had a legitimate right to feel proud of herself as the focus of her attention shifted away from her needy, helpless body to what was happening around her.
Where am I? she asked. The question was not the panicky, blind thing that had so threatened to swamp her only minutes ago. It was a serious interrogative. Where am I?
Alex’s first impression was that she was facing a wall of pink. Pink everywhere, bright and shining.
Pink. Everywhere.
Slowly, unblinkingly, she recognized what appeared to be a naked buttocks in that wall of bright and glossy pink. And then she saw another pair of perfect ass cheeks. And then another. And another.
Alex’s perception shifted. Again, had she the capacity to breathe, she would have gasped.
Alex found herself in a vast chamber. The ceiling was hundreds of meters above her. The walls were hundreds of meters apart. It was as big as an indoor auditorium, and, like an auditorium, it was filled to capacity with people, a vast horde of very silent people. No, not people, Alex thought a second later, despairingly, sickened as she put herself in the same category. Not people. They’re drones, like me.
She stood, one drone among many, among a vast, vast many.
To either side of her was an identical pleasure drone. To either side of them were pleasure drones. In front of her were pleasure drones, and, in back of her, presumably, were even more pleasure drones.
Her perception shifted again, in a downward spiral of shame. She wasn’t in an auditorium. She was in a warehouse. She was in a warehouse filled with her kind, pleasure drones, just one among thousands.
Lost in a crowd, Alex remembered. A saying she had heard once. She was lost in a crowd, as her Master had intended. The thought of Master Nax raised the heat in her loins more so, and she fought it.
Then she heard a voice speaking in that vast room—it was easy to hear, the drones unspeaking, and her biomodified ears so sharp—and she focused on it. Oh my God, she thought. I know that voice!
“Are you sure she’s here?” the voice, so familiar, said. Alex’s blank eyes shifted toward its source, as she knew every other pleasure drone in the place was doing the same, and for the same reason.
That was a male voice! A man!
I want his cock, Alex thought, helplessly. Ohh, I want his cock inside me!
There was a railed platform in front of the legion of pleasure drones. There were seven entire rows of drones between it and Alex. On the platform was a group of men. Alex’s pussy hungered for them.
And then she recognized them.
Peter! Oh my God, PETER!! It’s PETER!!!
“Absolutely sure, sire?” the smaller man beside her beloved Peter said. Alex saw at once that it was Sovien, Peter’s chief aide in the Resistance. Oh, the many times the three of them had laughed together! And yet, with utter humiliation, Alex found herself craving his cock inside her as well.
“No,” Sovien said. “Reasonably certain, yes. Nearly every pleasure drone from four planets ended up on this asteroid when the Solarian Empire collapsed.”
Oh, Peter . . Peter, Alex wept inside. Oh, how she had missed him! Her beloved Peter was so handsome, so perfect, so . . so manly, so masterful, and his cock, bulging in his pants, so beautiful.
Horror swept through the baroness. No! But she couldn’t help it.
He was a man. She was a pleasure drone. She couldn’t help but think of him that way!
Peter, Peter! She loved him. And yet if Sovien or either of the two guards beside them had so much as snapped his fingers at her, she would have crawled on her hands and knees to serve his pleasure.
She would have crawled to serve her Peter’s pleasure.
Heat blazed. The heat . . the [drone] heat that was always there.
“The problem is a complex one, sire,” Sovien said. “While we can successfully unspool a woman from the drone casing, restoring both her mind and a reasonable facsimile of her original body, the process is both expensive and time-consuming.” He made a wide gesture with his arm to take in the silent legion of drones. “Unspooling them all would be prohibitive. It would take years. Moreover, even if our government did have the time and money necessary to undertake such a venture, we still couldn’t do it.”
Alex saw Peter’s reaction. She recognized the virtuous fire in his eyes, so different from the one that burned within her body. He was so pure and noble. She wanted him. She wanted him as Peter, her beloved Peter, but she also wanted him as a Master, her Master, to be used for his pleasure and then discarded, perhaps to serve Sovien or the guards next. The mortification of her soul was complete.
“Sire,” Sovien said, perhaps also seeing the anger Alex had perceived, “Your supporters would never permit it. Too many of them want pleasure drones of their own, and now that word of this storehouse has reached their ears, nearly every one of them will put in a claim or three.”
He sighed. “Sire . . . Peter . . . like it or not, the drones are a commodity, and a valuable one.”
“It’s not fair,” Peter said. Alex’s heart went out to him. Her cunt hungered for him. “We fight a war for freedom, and now that we’ve won, the first thing we do is keep and sell the Empire’s slaves for our own.” He slammed his fist against the platform’s railing. “It’s a hypocrisy! A devilish hypocrisy!”
Sovien nodded. “Yes. And a necessary one.”
Blast you, Nax! Alex raged. Master Nax! Blast you, blast you!! He had been right, of course.
‘Trophies of war’ Master Nax had called the pleasure drones. Called her. People were the same everywhere. The Solarians, for all their depravity, were at least honest in their depravity. Power was an aphrodisiac, the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. The rulers of the Centauri worlds would claim they had supported the rebellion for freedom’s sake, for the sake of the people, but they would want their dicks or their cunts licked every bit as much as their former overlords. And, blast it all! Peter would need them. He would need their financial and political support to build a stable government. However much he loathed the idea, Alex knew her Peter would not, could not, start another war just for the sake of a few thousand pleasure drones, not when his multi-world Sovereignty encompassed billions.
He would not fight, could not fight, not even for her.
“Perhaps if we’re lucky, sire,” Sovien said. “A random selection. Twenty, maybe, even fifty, if we are economical.” He touched Peter’s shoulder. “It’s a chance, Peter. It’s a chance.”
But all Peter could do was shake his head, uselessly.
Alex’s heart broke. I’m sorry, [Master] Peter, she thought. I’m so sorry. She wished she could be there to comfort him. She wished she could be there to fuck him. Maybe [Master] Sovien will pick me. ‘A random selection.’ What an incredible stroke of luck that would be. But did she want to be picked so as to be unspooled from her slaveskin, or did she want to be picked so she could be fucked?
She didn’t know.
Alex saw Master Sovien take a control wand from his jacket. He pointed it at the mass of drones.
Sleep [Deactivation] had felt so good after so long, but she didn’t want to be [Deactivated] put to sleep again, not so soon. She wanted her Master Peter! She wanted to be with him!
She wanted to serve him!
The wand’s tip glowed. A quiver went through Alex’s head.
All was darkness.