The Wall

The Wall

There was simply no way for normal traffic to use Unity Plaza on a Saturday night. From Tech Boulevard up all the way to the northern stretch of the Wall, Plaza Street was bound to be aswarm with party people. The hip bars were already attracting their crowd as darkness fell. In a few hours the elite clubs would power up, churning in and spilling out those eligible for this sort of life style.

“Wait…!” Rika squeaked in peril of losing her two friends within the human torrent.

Although only a few metres away, Erilyn was on the verge of being swallowed up. Luckily Paz’s cyan-dyed hair was outré enough even for such challenging environments.

Æquinoctium — Chapter Two

ÆQUINOCTIUM

CHAPTER TWO

Dark Deeds

Darkness and disorientation awaited her as Denise woke up. Only slowly, in the rate her dizziness faded away, she was able to make sense of her surrounding and situation. Her body felt weak and chilly, and her back throbbed from lying on some hard surface. Her loss of consciousness hadn’t been caused by the stun gun. That deceiving bastard must have drugged her up once she had been incapacitated!

Denise tried to rise from her recumbent position, only to find her arms and legs trapped. At wrists and ankles as well as above elbows and knees she was bound with broad leather belts. Oh, and she was down to her slip and bra.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…!”

Æquinoctium — Chapter One

ÆQUINOCTIUM

CHAPTER ONE

Anomalous Materials

The name of Denise’s double-date share was Thom, and for the better part of two hours Thom was dwelling on his favourite topic: Thom.

Denise was running out of ways to fake interest, and help was nowhere to be seen. By now Gina was solely concentrating on her own entertainment for the night. Thank goodness the four of them were sitting in a booth, or the display of pre-carnal tongue tussle would have got them thrown out of the restaurant. Most likely it had been part of the deal for What’s-his-name to bring someone for Denise in return to get cosy with Gina. Well meant, Ginny, but badly executed…

Stand-Alone Complex

The following narration is a commission from Suspension Guy, a constant reader who had asked for an interrogation story set in the HardSkill universe. I have received word that he is well pleased with the result, and I hope to get similar feedback from other readers, too.

 

Stand-Alone Complex

Muriel hadn’t seen the punch to her neck coming. The grunt behind it was big enough to send her spinning into the nearest strut. The impact hadn’t only shattered her night vision goggles, but also had forced what air she had left out of her lungs.

Muriel was in serious trouble.

The guards had caught her on the mechanical level of the AReFa main building. And they hadn’t been on patrol duty. The company mercs had waited for her. Whilst two of them were holding Muriel subdued in collaborative joint locks, a third steel-trapped her wrists in rigid handcuffs. Before hauling her back up on her feet, her broken NV gear was replaced by a tight hood shutting out all light and most sounds – surely nothing a common security bloke would bring to his nightly round.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Thirty-One

Better Feared than Loved

Sleeping with somebody is considered to be the most intimate act to perform. Torturing them comes in a close second. In the light of this, Miss Cuntling and I were one step away from being fuck mates.

Kendrick might have been technically right about the abuse my fellow fillies and I were subjected to not being torture in that it wasn’t meant to extract confessions or information. He had applied a rather narrow definition, though. The purpose of interrogative torture may differ from the one of punitive torture; the underlying methodology stays the same. Pain may be inflicted for the sake of pain, but in the long run it is a means to an even more diabolical end.

Pony Boot Camp — Part Nineteen

Evaluation

For once I was lucky, or so I thought: the late afternoon’s outdoor training had been cancelled. My group was due for its “initial evaluation”, whatever that meant. It couldn’t be nearly as painful, degrading and generally mind-searingly mistreating as pulling a sulky plus whip-happy driver through the woods (the term “outdoor” always referred to activities outside the camp’s perimeter).

When we gathered in front of our barrack, I already saw myself under bridle again. Then Miss Cuntling aired one of her upbeat announcements.

“We make a trip to the main building, where you’ll be undergoing your initial evaluation. It’s a standard procedure, and I want to see spotless behaviour.”