The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The slicer lay sprawled in her nest, happy to be lulled by the cable’s low throb. Screens dominated the small chamber, but they only represented a tiny percentage of the raw data flowing through the isolated hub. She shifted her attention minutely, focussing on one tiny blip and, once she was certain, cycled the airlock.

Shard didn’t bother looking up. She’d already scanned her visitor to a degree that would probably have shocked the conservatively-dressed woman. To have been granted access to her Sanctum Sanctorum was proof enough that she had not registered as a threat. But that didn’t stop the slicer from taking precautions.

One such precaution chirped eagerly, flashing urgent messages into her occipital lobe, requesting instruction. With a thought, Shard placed the gun-drone in semi-autonomous mode, trusting its rat-brain not to screw up. The small remote hovered obediently at the door, its turbofans adding their low whine to the background hum.

“Ms Boothe,” Shard began, her voice hoarse from so little practice. “I understand you need my help with a problem.”

The other woman glanced nervously at the floating drone before answering. The flickering monitors painted the full-figured visitor with an oil slick of flowing colour and that only added to her sickly pallor.

“This,” she managed, eventually, “this isn’t what I do. I don’t know how this is supposed to work.”

“You’re doing fine,” the slicer encouraged, finally lifting her gaze. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll suggest how much it might cost.”

Ms Boothe nodded and a little of the tension seemed to flow from her stiff shoulders. She stared into Shard’s mirrored eyes and the slicer could feel some of the determination that had brought the corporate drone to this place.

“I understand you’re a code breaker,” she continued and Shard forced herself not to wince at the error.

The slicer bit down hard on her inner pedant, and gestured in what she hoped was an encouraging manner.

“In a previous life, Ms Boothe,” Shard explained, “I was a cryptographer.”

“Good,” the woman nodded and, once again the tension seemed to take hold of her, “because I need someone who can break a very specific code.”

There was something in the way she spoke that tapped into the slicer’s anxieties. Shard didn’t believe in premonition, but sometimes her instincts worked with data she herself had neglected to consider. She took a deep breath, knowing that she had to ask the question, even if it was already obvious she wouldn’t like the answer.

“What code?”

Her client didn’t speak for a long moment, instead she let her eyes bore imploringly into the slicer’s. Whatever it was, Ms Boothe wanted it very badly indeed.

“I want to hack a Golem,” she blurted.

Katherine could feel the tears burning behind her eyes, but she refused to give them the satisfaction. In part she was still clinging to the sheer impossibility of it all. It had taken the Guild less than 48 hours to take apart everything Tom and she had built.

She stared at the last, terse communiqué. The words were frozen on the screen of her, now-disconnected, terminal. It was written in legalese, but the message was clear. She was homeless, jobless, friendless and husbandless.

They wouldn’t tell her what Tom was supposed to have done and he never spoke about his work. The truth was, she’d never asked and at least part of that was because she really didn’t want to know. Katherine had seen the darkness in her husband’s eyes and that glimpse was enough to recognise that ignorance was far preferable to the truth.

It was dawn when they came for him. The spiderthralls dragged her husband from their bed, while she tried to demand an explanation. Katherine rubbed one hand against her swollen cheek. She could feel the bruise beginning to form and wondered how bad it was going to look.

She took a breath, before slipping out of the chair and lifting her small overnight bag. Anger swelled as she hefted its weight. This was all she had left now and yet she was supposed to be properly grateful. That was how the Guild saw its actions and, in their view, Katherine was lucky not to have had the clothes stripped from her back, or worse.

Stiffly, she lifted the scrap of paper from her desk. It had already been folded tightly and Katherine slipped the cryptic message into her pocket without another thought.

The haggard woman paused at the door, casting one long look back over her shoulder. The truth was, she realised, that there was nothing here for her, not any longer. Ignoring the curtain-twitching from her former neighbours, Katherine walked to the waiting taxi. She clenched her small hands into fists, burying manicured nails in soft flesh and managed to hold back the tears until they had rounded the corner.

“A Golem,” Shard echoed, rolling free of the suspended web-work and dropping to the floor.

The slicer was almost a head shorter than her visitor, but Ms Boothe was clearly intimidated. The woman moved back and quickly found herself pressed against a wall of processors.

“Yes,” she said firmly, “I know it’s supposed to be impossible. But I was told… they said you might be able to help.”

Shard grinned, nonchalantly pulling down her t-shirt where it had ridden up, exposing a swath of heavily tattooed skin. She could almost feel the other woman’s eyes sliding down her slender legs, following the fractal patterns from where they emerged.

She stepped forward, and leaned into her now panicking guest. For several provocative moments she allowed their bodies to meet and then she snagged the heavy trousers from the shelf behind the anxious woman.

“They,” the slicer smiled impudently as she pulled on the cargo pants, “shouldn’t talk so much.”

It was obvious that the woman was fighting to keep her emotions in check. Though, whether she was embarrassed, aroused or simply angry, Shard couldn’t quite judge. Perhaps a little of each, she finally decided.

“I didn’t come here to be mocked,” Ms Boothe said tightly, her eyes glistening, “just to make you an offer. If you won’t… or can’t help me… then say so now and I shan’t waste any more of your time.”

Tilting her head to one side and suddenly growing more serious, Shard regarded her guest for a moment before replying.

“What did you do to get here, Ms Boothe?” the slicer whispered. “How much have you sacrificed in order to reach my door?”

The two women stared at each other for only a moment longer and then Ms Boothe had to look away. Shard had already started to move before her guest’s shoulders began to shudder and by the time the first wracking sob was torn from the other woman’s body, the slicer had her wrapped in a tight embrace.

It took the last of her credits to settle the taxi bill, but she really had no other option. Katherine was now persona non grata and there was no question that the Guild would only tolerate her continued existence if she moved beyond the established safe zone.

Unlike many of her former friends, Katherine had never ventured into the Barrens. Her expectations were based on lurid trid shows and news stories, but it became obvious almost as soon as they passed the final checkpoint that the reality was going to be very different.

She slung the bag over her shoulder and resisted the urge to wave off the rapidly retreating taxi. The drably-dressed woman already stood out like a sore thumb on the litter-strewn streets and she could almost sense the various predators beginning to circle.

Katherine knew she had to get off the street. In contrast to the brightly-lit, consumer traps that she was used to, here the main illumination came from oil drum fires and a very few unvandalised neon signs. Small groups of vagrants huddled around these oases of warmth and light. Most of them regarded her with obvious hostility.

Fortunately, the bar was only a short distance from where the taxi had set her down. Music leeched from the dilapidated building in random pulses, while corrupted blipverts flickered on badly damaged hoardings. She pushed through the doorway, grimacing as the malfunctioning static screen tugged at her clothing and then she was inside.

The air was hazed with smoke and uncomfortably hot. An archaic jukebox blasted the room with angry noise, killing any possibility of conversation. The customers sat in small clusters, each group clearly defined and unapproachable. Katherine could feel their attention shifting toward her and, since it was obvious she had no chance of blending in, she headed straight for the bar.

“You lost, chica?” the bartender asked, her scarred face twisted into a sneer.

“Yes,” Katherine decided, “pretty much.”

It was as if the admission crystallised her reality. Katherine had no idea what she was doing here and, more importantly, just what she hoped to achieve.

“I need to find someone,” she began hesitantly. “It’s important.”

“It always is,” the woman agreed, placing a foaming beer bottle on the counter between them.

“I can’t,” Katherine tried to explain, “I can’t pay you.”

The grin was easier this time and Katherine realised that without her piercings the woman would have been quite attractive. Unaccountably she felt herself beginning to relax a little.

“We’ll work something out,” the bartender assured her, motioning that she should take the proffered bottle.

She returned the smile gratefully, nodding her thanks, and then took a long swing of chilled beer. The woman’s smile grew wider and Katherine started fumbling in her pocket for the note Tom had left. But her movements were suddenly clumsy and the simple task proved beyond her.

The music grew soft and echoing, only to be replaced by a low, echoing whine. She felt the bottle slip from her fingers, only for the bartender to catch it before a drop could be spilled. Her vision blurred as everything lost focus, then exploded into jagged fractals when her head finally slumped onto the bar.

The other woman’s body shook against hers. Ms Boothe clung to the slicer as though fearful of losing her grip. Shard waited until the sobbing subsided before she spoke. There was nothing she could say that would be any consolation, but perhaps her actions might provide her guest with some relief.

“Yes,” she sighed, “I can do what you ask, but it’s dangerous… the Guild do not take kindly to such interference.”

“The only payment I can offer,” Ms Boothe stated, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. “Is the use of my body. I have a sense you might not be entirely uninterested.”

Shard felt the other woman stiffen, but instead of pulling away, the slicer tightened her embrace.

“No,” she accepted, keeping her tone light, “not entirely. But, Ms Boothe, if we were ever to share such intimacy, I would much prefer a willing partner than someone offering themselves reluctantly, for services rendered… you see, I have a sense about you as well and I’d hate to sully that by acting so mercenary.”

The woman gently disentangled herself from Shard’s arms, her eyes still brimming with tears. The slicer could clearly see the complex of emotions tugging at her guest’s thoughts. Ms Boothe was an open book and, the battle between her need to hope and the crippling distrust she felt, was almost too painful to observe.

“We can worry about payment another time,” Shard suggested, “but I am not going to take anything that isn’t freely given… of that you have my word. Now, why don’t you tell me a little about this Golem?”

Her guest took a deep breath and Shard could feel how torn she was. The woman desperately wanted to believe and yet, everything that had happened to here recently screamed out against that.

“They have blocks,” she said after a moment, “programming that stops them from doing anything but what the Guild demands.”

“So I understand,” the slicer agreed.

“I want to remove those blocks,” the woman explained, tears streaming over her cheeks.

Shard opened her mouth to say something, but there was nothing.

“I want my life back…”

“Puta?” an unfamiliar voice wondered, “Pretty puta?”

Katherine groaned, but the sound was muffled and indistinct. She was gripped by a pervasive lethargy and it was almost too much of an effort to open her eyes. Everything was slow and difficult. All she really wanted was to drop back down into that soothing maelstrom of fractured colour.

“Wakey, wakey,” the same voice sang and Katherine could feel herself being shaken.

She tried to push the annoyance away, but the same torpor seemed to have claimed her limbs. Katherine fought against it, only to realise that her arms were tangled and trapped. Her exertions seemed to clear some of the residual fog, but that clarity only made her predicament all the more frightening.

Hard plastic pressed against her buttocks, and into her spine. Katherine’s mind was still horribly sluggish, but the realisation that she was completely naked came quickly enough. After that it was nothing less than a series of increasingly unwelcome revelations.

Coarse rope secured her ankles and knees, as well as hobbling her to the chair itself. Katherine’s wrists and elbows were similarly secured, while more rope looped around her body, binding and accentuating her fulsome figure. Even her lips were sealed shut, mouth packed and cheeks bulging behind the thick tapegag.

Her vision swam, but the blurred face of the bartender was still recognisable. Katherine whimpered into the gag, pleading for this all to have been some dreadful mistake. But the slew of unpleasant surprises wasn’t yet exhausted and, as she continued to squirm ineffectually in her bondage, she became aware of two things.

She noticed the slick heat on which she sat and against which her captive flesh slithered. And then, as she glanced down, Katherine saw that both her taut nipples glistened wetly. It was as if the tips of her breasts had been daubed with moisture. She glanced back up at her captor, and saw the bartender licking her lips suggestively.

“Hello, pretty puta,” the woman grinned. “Did you have a nice nap?”

Katherine gave an indignant grunt and thrashed against the rope, but that seemed only to excite her captor more. Other than exhausting herself, all she succeeded in doing was confirming that the ropes really were as inescapable as they’d first appeared.

“Calm down, chica,” the bartender laughed, “I said we’d work something out and you do still want to find this special someone, don’t you?”

She nodded, dizzy from her exertions. The gag made it impossible to get enough air and her wasted efforts were only making that worse.

“There now,” the woman smiled, “that’s better. So, just be a good girl and give me what I want. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself.”

Very deliberately, her captor peeled off her sweat-dampened t-shirt. More metal glinted against darker flesh and Katherine found herself both revolted and intrigued by the extent of the woman’s self-mutilation.

Their eyes locked and Katherine felt a tremor run through her body as the bartender took hold of one silver-pierced nipple and twisted. The other woman’s pupils widened and she gave a hiss of excitement that was enough to make her captive ache.

Without taking her eyes off of her prize for an instant, the woman began to circle. She trailed one hand against Katherine’s neck, brushing with her fingertips and making the bound woman squirm. For several heartbeats they were frozen like that. The bartender’s hands resting lightly upon Katherine’s shoulders and then the massage began.

Strong fingers worked Katherine’s tense muscles, and seemed to unknot her tensions. The bartender’s paired thumbs felt as though they were burrowing into her resolve and it just felt too good to do more than groan and arch against that pleasure.

Maybe it was an after-effect of the drug, or simply a reaction to everything she’d been through, but, whatever the reason, Katherine’s strength seemed to have just melted away. She stopped thinking about her predicament, stopped thinking about anything at all and simply gave herself over to that assured touch.

When the woman’s rough palms swept down and over Katherine’s plump breasts it felt as if she were already cumming. Every caress was wearing her away a little more, taking hold of her fear, her anger, her frustration and then turning them against her.

“Not yet,” the woman hissed, as the tempo abruptly changed.

Katherine was gasping, almost sobbing into the gag. Her head span and seemed to echo the brutal swirl of her captor’s hands. The bartender clutched and held, sinking her fingers into the ripe flesh and squeezing. She slapped and pinched, mauled and crushed, leaving her victim’s skin bruised but tingling with quite vicious arousal.

Never before had she been made to feel like this. The woman was simply using her, taking no account of Katherine’s own desires or needs and that should have disgusted or at least horrified her. But instead there was something so perversely honest about what was happening she couldn’t help but respond.

Sharp nails scored her skin, drawing long wheals in the sensitive flesh. Every stroke dragged her swollen breasts up and back, squeezing and tormenting them. Katherine shook and mewled. Begging wordlessly for the gentlest of nudges, the touch that would send her over the edge and into the ecstasy she knew was waiting.

She didn’t notice when the chair first began to tilt, not until she opened her eyes and found herself staring up towards the ceiling. Katherine whimpered, her whole body aching for the bartender’s hands, but the other woman was busy.

This time she moved far more quickly, though no less gracefully than when she had stripped off her t-shirt. The bartender slid out of her trousers, using one hand to maintain her prisoner’s precarious balance. Katherine swallowed hard, already guessing what came next. Sure enough, the other woman took hold of the chair and then manoeuvred herself until she stood astride it.

Katherine gazed up at her captor’s gaping sex and could feel the last vestiges of her resistance crumbling away. The woman was going to crush those succulent lips into her face and not only was there absolutely nothing she could do to stop it, even if there had been, she wouldn’t have tried.

The bartender was going to fuck herself with Katherine’s face and, right then, that was something she wanted more than anything she could ever remember.

But her tormentor wasn’t about to make it that easy for her. The woman just stood there, her sex gaping as Katherine watched. She stared, utterly captivated by the sight, and imagined she could see it growing puffier and more engorged with every passing moment.

The bartender began to rock her hips slowly, flexing her knees with each thrust and Katherine stared up into the compelling heat, marking each swing with the softest of moans. She craned her neck, stretching forward until she could feel the spicy, hot breath of each provocative pass and still it wasn’t enough.

Slick flesh darkened, as the rich juices began to ooze. The woman’s pussy bathed her face in its desire, but still she strained against the bonds, so eager was she to plunge herself into that irresistible spice. Her moans intensified, becoming one long groan of frustrated excitement.

Katherine felt the woman tense, and had an instant to gasp before her face was crushed against the slippery folds. She couldn’t help but respond in kind, pressing into the molten heat and grunting with every decadent thrust. The bartender’s lust filled her, drowning every thought in a tide of depravity and then, as if by mutual consent, they both came.

There was only one explanation that made any sense, but there was no way she could have missed that sort of detail during the client’s background check. So, either Ms Boothe was not who she claimed to be, or someone had done a very good job of editing her records.

“Tell me what happened,” Shard suggested, trying to decide which option she preferred.

“My husband,” the woman began, the tears once again flowing freely, “my husband works for the Guild.”

The slicer waited. Despite her frustration she knew that the story had to come out at its own pace.

“I found out by accident,” Ms Boothe continued, “I mean… I suspected before, but there was always the pretence of ignorance to hide behind. But a week ago I knew… everything.”

Shard reached out and took the other woman’s hands in her own. Nodding encouragement, she squeezed gently and felt Ms Boothe’s grip grow tighter in response.

“Normally his datapad would be locked when he wasn’t around,” the woman explained. “But he must have forgotten. I wasn’t really snooping, all I wanted to do was power it down. And then a new message arrived…”

She was obviously struggling, but Shard really needed to know what had happened.

“I know it’s difficult,” the slicer encouraged, “but the more I know, the easier it will be to help you.”

“They wanted him to spin a news story for them,” Ms Boothe sighed. “That’s what he does… what they pay him for… he makes up excuses for their actions. The Guild was accused of taking people from the streets. Not criminals… just ordinary citizens…”

The slicer wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this at least made sense. By purging her from the system they removed any credibility she might have had as a witness and yet, Shard couldn’t quite understand why they hadn’t just cored her and be done with it.

“And now you know?” she asked softly.

“I have to do something,” the woman answered bleakly. “My first thought was that I should confront him with it, demand that he quit and that we both take a stand.”

“A stand,” Shard wondered, “against the Guild?”

“I know,” Ms Boothe agreed, her voice cracking again, “it’s madness, when they find out, they’ll come for us. But I don’t have any choice, it’s like the idea is stuck in my head and I can’t get rid of it.”

“Forgive me,” the slicer ventured, aware there was no easy way to ask the question, “but what’s this got to do with the Golem?”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” the woman replied, her eyes suddenly bright with more than just tears. “It’s not in my nature to oppose my husband like this and even though I know that this is what I have to do, I’m equally certain that now is not the time. But, you have to understand, things have changed… I’ve seen him, bowing and scraping, acting like this corp bitch’s fucking pet!”

When Katherine came down she was still tightly fettered, the bartender’s juices had dried around her face, a mute reminder of just how lost and wanton she had become. Her cheeks burned with shame at the memory, even as her traitorous sex clenched and trembled.

“Welcome back, pretty puta,” her tormentor whispered and the touch of those clever fingers was enough to make Katherine lurch.

Much to her surprise, the woman’s next action was to delicately unpeel the tape and then scoop the sodden packing from her mouth. One hand rested possessively on her shoulder and, as the bartender stepped back into view, Katherine felt a twinge of regret when she saw that the woman was once again fully clothed.

“We’ll come to your question in a moment, poco puta,” she explained and something glinted between her fingers. “But first a little insurance… it’s not personal cariño… I just can’t be too careful.”

Katherine gasped as the woman took hold of her nipple, unable to deny how badly she still wanted this. But couldn’t help herself from crying out when, without warning, sharp pain lanced through the puckered flesh.

The bartender bent and took the tortured nub between her lips, softly nursing it, while her tongue played back and forth. The pain had already passed and Katherine’s half-hearted protests faded almost as quickly.

“A little something to remember me by,” she whispered, as the wetted nipple slid free. “Just in case you get any ideas of… well… lets just say any ideas I don’t approve of.”

“What…” Katherine began, alarm cutting through the post-orgasmic haze.

“Hush now,” the woman laughed, placing her hand over her captive’s mouth. “All I want to know, is who you came looking for… and why?”

A slow throb burned into her breast, stinging the tender flesh with tiny needles of delight. Katherine glanced down, and saw the silver barb that transfixed her swollen nipple. Every pulse tugged a little more deeply, until her whole body was alive with sensation.

“Gato,” she whined, knowing that obedience was the only way to stop the maddening attention. “I was supposed to find Gato.”

She felt the other woman stiffen, even before she heard the sharp intake of breath.

“Tonto,” the bartender sighed, “tonto puta. Gato’s gone, chica.”

“But, my husband,” Katherine gasped, shaking her head as though she could somehow prove the words false. “My husband…”

The woman took hold of her then and Katherine buried her head in that comforting embrace. Those previously rough hands stroked with surprising tenderness as she sobbed.

“I’ll take you to him,” the woman said eventually. “Perdón, bonito puta, but I think you need to see for yourself.”

The bartender, Conchita, helped Katherine to dress before they set out toward the zone. Effectively retracing her steps wasn’t as painful as she’d expected, but then the silver bar had already begun to spread its webwork of nanotubules throughout her captive flesh and soon every step was just another burst of agonised ecstasy.

It was surprisingly easy to reach the corporate enclaves. Thanks to Conchita they were able to avoid every static checkpoint and caution, along with a fair amount of luck, got them to an observation post overlooking the Guild’s regional headquarters.

During the course of their journey, Katherine realised there was far more to her erstwhile captor than she had guessed. The technology to which she had access, as well as her almost military bearing once they left the dubious safety of the bar’s beer cellar, all served to strengthen Katherine’s suspicions.

Tom’s last note had told her to seek out this Gato person and suggested Conchita’s bar as a starting point. The fact that the woman acted like some sort of high-tech revolutionary seemed to indicate that her husband had known what he was doing. But surely having her turned into the bartender’s pierced servant hadn’t been part of his plan.

“Look here,” Conchita directed, stirring Katherine from her introspection.

Katherine put her eye to the scope, trying, unsuccessfully to ignore the pulse of pleasure her obedience provoked. The smart optics refocused the image, highlighting anything its simple brain deemed deserving of attention.

She stared in disbelief, no longer sure what was real.

“But I thought…” the stunned woman managed.

“That they’d given him to the spiders?” Conchita almost sneered, though Katherine knew none of that venom was directed at her.

She could only nod her agreement. Tears stung her eyes, but she wasn’t about to let them come now.

“No,” the bartender agreed, “but that’s exactly what they’ve been doing to my friends… ever since he was taken.”

“It’s not his fault,” Katherine pleaded, although she felt none of the certainty her tone suggested.

“Look at him!” Conchita demanded and she reacted without question. “Does he look like someone who’s under duress?”

Her husband stood beside a dark-skinned woman, with whom he was speaking. His bearing was entirely relaxed, which only added to the anger welling up from deep inside. The analysis floated next to Tom’s magnified image and the simple words left no possibility of error.

Unaugmented Human

“I was his cover!” the woman hissed, “Nothing more… not at first.”

Shard waited, reminding herself that the story would come at its own pace. Her guest trembled with the effort of keeping her emotions at bay. She was almost certain now, despite the verbal games they were still playing.

With a thought, Shard brought up her guest’s entrance scans and ran them through yet another algorithm. She was acting purely on instinct, but she still needed to be sure.

The internal sensors poured energy into her guest, gradually increasing their output until they could penetrate the deceptive shielding. When the anomalies began to appear the gun-drone shifted nervously, as though it was suddenly eager to distance itself from the seated woman.

“But now he wants to use me to help recruit,” Ms Boothe’s fingers scraped viciously against the metal chair. “That’s what he calls it, ‘recruitment’… because coring was still just a little too distasteful. Can you imagine, being a part of that? With no way out, no option other than to follow my programming?”

The slicer shook her head gently, ignoring the sound of tearing metal and resting her frail hands on top of the woman’s clenched fist.

“There’s a group,” the woman continued once she’d caught her breath, “fighting to stop them. They’re small but very well organised.”

“I know,” Shard admitted, “the scream-sheets are full of it.”

“He’s going to use me to bring them down,” Ms Boothe explained, her tone pained. “Have me play the distraught victim to gain their trust and then take the entire organisation apart, before they can do any more damage.”

Her client looked directly into Shard’s eyes and her conviction was almost palpable.

“Please,” she begged, “I can’t let that happen. I just couldn’t stand it.”

“Ms Boothe…” the slicer began cautiously.

“Katherine,” the woman smiled and, for the first time, there was genuine warmth there.

“Oh no,” Shard laughed. “That’s not a name for the streets. How about if I call you, Cat?”

“Perfect,” Katherine grinned.

“So, what now?” Katherine asked tightly, turning away from the spotting scope.

“Now?” Conchita snapped. “Now we go down there, and kill the bastard. I’m sure you know the way. You’ll be a good girl and show me, won’t you, puta?”

“Yes,” she agreed, as pleasure thrummed through her frame. “I’ll show you.”

Katherine waiting until the bartender was ready and then the pair moved back onto the city streets. She took the lead, her thoughts hopeless tangled in lusty acceptance. Access to the compound was through the basement of an unassuming town house and it took several anxiety-fuelled minutes to reach the concealed entrance.

“This is a one way trip,” Conchita told her, just as she was reaching for the access panel. “You understand, don’t you, chica?”

“I understand,” Katherine agreed, almost eagerly.

“And would you still follow, if it wasn’t for that little trinket,” the bartender wondered, reaching out to touch Katherine’s transfixed nipple through the delicate fabric.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, leaning into the other woman’s caress.

Conchita sighed and then gestured for her captive to continue. Katherine tapped in the complex code, and the other woman slipped through the door before it was even halfway open. The emergency tunnel sloped gently upward, its smooth walls were studded with glowing lights and the recycled air was cool.

The inner door swung open as they approached and, once again, Conchita was the first through. Katherine already knew what was going to happen, but even the metal’s constant caress couldn’t overcome the Guild’s programming.

Lights flared brilliant white, flooding the small room with a dazzling glare. Lightning crackled over every surface, dancing over Conchita’s clothing and wreathing her weapon in emerald sparks. She shouted an abrupt curse as shadowy figures emerged from concealed entrances.

“You traitorous bitch!” she bellowed, turning and swinging the weapon towards Katherine, her finger already tightening on the trigger.

“I’m sorry,” Katherine whispered, as the hollow ache bored into her breast.

The bartender’s eyes widened, realisation dawning, while static still clung to the stubby rifle. But, before she could speak, another voice cut through the chamber.

“My Katherine’s no traitor!” Tom laughed.

He walked out onto the catwalk above them, looking disgustingly smug and self-satisfied. The spiderthralls moved closer and neither woman had any illusion that their position was defensible. Conchita’s weapon clattered to the ground.

“She’s my property,” her husband continued, “not yours.”

Katherine could only hang her head in shame, the bartender’s withering stare was too uncomfortable to bear.

“Although,” he admitted, grudgingly, “I have to say, you’re not at all what I expected, Gato!”

“You idiot,” Conchita gasped, suddenly struggling to hold back her bitter laughter, “I’m not Gato. We thought you had her… but now I see we were wrong.”

Tom could only gape as the bartender threw back her head and howled, confusion and anger warred for supremacy in his expression, while the thralls stood motionless.”

“We’ve won!” Conchita snarled, obviously delighted, “Don’t you see? Whatever you do to me, Gato’s still out there… planning… funding… beating you…”

“No!” he screamed, banging his fist against the metal handrail.

“No,” Cat answered, her voice filled with ice. “She’s not out there… but the rest is all too true. Sorry, dear.”

True to her word, Shard was able to unlock Katherine’s programming. The encryption was complex, but it was very clear that this was not the first time she had cracked a Golem’s safety locks.

Katherine sat comfortably in the slicer’s den, feeling more at peace than she could ever remember. Shard’s touch was light, but it still sent tingles through the Golem’s synthflesh-covered frame.

“What now?” the slicer asked, her voice transmitted directly through the link and into Katherine’s brain.

“Put everything back as it was,” she replied, “please, make me forget.”

“I don’t understand,” Shard admitted, but the note of disapproval was clear.

“Shard,” Katherine sobbed, “I can’t do it if I feel like this. There’s just too much emotion and I’ll never manage to keep it all in check. The only way I can do what needs to be done, is if I go back to being their obedient drone… leave the intrigue to Cat… and Katherine can, once again, be the perfect wife.”

“If you’re sure,” the slicer prompted, her doubt still very apparent.

“I’m sure,” Katherine agreed, “I trust you… will you do the same for me?”

“Katherine?” Tom faltered.

Cat didn’t bother saying anything, she just jumped, easily springing onto the catwalk beside her startled husband. Her fist closed around Tom’s upper arm and he gave a whimper more of shock than pain.

“Conchita just wants to kill you,” she grinned, “but the girl’s imagination is far too limited.”

Without waiting for his reaction, Cat leapt into space, dragging Tom with her. The impact as they reached the ground scattered the motionless thralls.

“Puta?” the bartender gasped, clearly at least equally stunned.

“You can’t beat the Guild your way,” Cat explained. “There’ll always be more scum waiting to take the place of anyone you get rid of. The only way is to start thinking smarter…”

Neither Tom nor Conchita could take their eyes off her as Cat very deliberately began to unbutton her blouse. One hand scooped her breast free from beneath the patterned lace and she fought not to groan as the heat bled into her palm.

She gritted her teeth and took hold of the protruding metal bar. And then, with a hiss of pained arousal, Cat tugged the device free from its nanomolecular anchoring.

The bartender’s confusion turned to a savage grin, which only widened as Tom suddenly seemed to understand. Cat’s augmented reflexes were more than fast enough to restrain him. One powerful hand sealed over his mouth before he could do more than squeal.

“I’ll leave where you stick it entirely up to you,” Cat teased.

“So, you are my good girl after all?” Conchita smiled back weakly, brandishing the tarnished metal.

“Sorry, sweetness,” the Golem shook her head. “Your toy was fun, but I can only have one owner; the one I choose, of my own volition, not one my programming thrusts upon me.”

Conchita’s reply was drowned by Tom’s yelp as the metal piercing bit home.