USB Drive

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Horny

The spy ran through corridors, USB drive in hand. She could only see by the light of the city outside.

There were whirring noises up ahead. The spy stopped. Dim red lights lit the upcoming corridor. A cleaning robot. She’d researched them. They were dumb. She pressed up against the wall before the corner, just in case. The whirring got closer.

The robot trundled around the corner. It stopped in the middle of the intersection. It was about three feet high, with a red light on top. It had four brushes, one at each corner, sweeping the floor. It didn’t look very effective. The spy continued along the next corridor.

Bright red lights cast the spy’s shadow on the far wall. The spy turned. The robot had stopped sweeping. Two lights on its body shone straight at her. The spy shielded her eyes.

“What th–“

The robot fired a net. The net splayed and wrapped over the spy. The spy dropped the USB and it slid along the corridor. The spy scrambled up into as much of a crouch as she could manage. She tried to lift the net but the sides were weighted.

The robot trundled towards her. The spy crawled. She could move a little bit despite the weights. Should she go for the USB? No. Escape had to be her only priority.

The spy didn’t get far before the robot caught up with her. The spy stopped. The robot stopped too. The spy listened to her heartbeat. There was a faint hiss. The spy’s eyelids felt heavy. The red lights faded to black.

The spy gasped as she awoke.

Dim red lights lit metal panels all around her. The spy was inside a semi-cylinder, lying lengthways on something smooth. The curved side of whatever she was in would have been close enough to touch — had she been able to move her arms. Her hands and feet were trapped outside the top and bottom of the cylinder. She was completely nude.

The spy screamed. A speaker played a woman’s voice.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

“What the fuck is this?”

“Your punishment.”

“Let me go!”

The spy tried to move her arms and legs. There was almost no movement available. She could still bend her wrists and ankles.

Something cold clasped the spy’s left big toe. The spy yelped. The cold thing pulled towards the tube. The spy’s big right toe got the same. More things went around the other toes. The spy tried to flex her ankles. Her feet were locked in place.

“Let Anadolu Yakası Escort me go!”

A curved LCD screen at eye-level switched on.

The screen showed a white room containing a mounted metal cylinder. Pink soles stuck out. Each toe had darker metal circling it, pulled back into the wall of the cylinder. Attached to the cylinder, surrounding both feet, were at least a dozen silver spider-leg robotic arms, poised.

“Let me out! Let me out! I’ll tell you who hired me!”

The woman laughed.

“I hired you. You helped me test security.”

The spy twisted and shouted. The woman giggled and said, “I hope you’re not ticklish.”

The spy felt like she was going to faint. She wished she could.

On the screen, a silver arm by the spy’s right foot awoke. It reached, and positioned itself just in front of her sole. Its point barely kept a distance.

“Please,” said the spy.

The arm poked her foot. The spy squeaked. The point felt tiny. The spy held her mouth closed. The spy tried to bend her ankle and to flex her toes. The bonds held her. The spy’s hips twitched. Her foot began to sweat. She focussed on her breathing.

The screen went black. The spy’s eyes adjusted to the dim light again. She looked for an escape.

The tingling continued.

After five controlled breaths, the woman spoke again.

“Not so demanding now?”

Three more breaths.

“Not talking to me?”

No, you bitch, thought the spy. The tingling in her right sole never stopped. The spy tried to keep still. Three more breaths.

An arm poked the spy’s left foot. The spy jumped. The point stayed still like the first. The spy tried to wiggle her left foot but it was held as firmly as the right. The spy’s hips twitched up and down. A smile crept onto the spy’s face. Two breaths.

“Don’t you deserve to be punished?”

Three breaths.

The screen turned back on. Her soles were there, immobile, held against the cylinder. A silver arm poked each foot. The other arms were moving. Their tips hovered. They almost touched the spy’s feet. Some drew small circles, others drew lines.

“No!”

The arms attacked. Quick circles beneath the toes. Slow lines up and down the soles. Quick lines along the sides. Slow circles on the heels. The spy screamed. She tried to flex her toes, to bend her ankles, to pull her knees Kurtköy Escort back, but the bonds kept her in place. She laughed. She bucked her hips. Her ass slapped on the metal below over and over. The spy watched the horror on the screen. The torture continued for about ten full lungfuls of high-pitched laughter.

The arms slowed, stopped, and retracted. The spy caught her breath. Her face felt sticky with tears. Her legs were tired. On the screen, her feet were pinker and shinier than before. There were lines where the points had pressed.

The screen went black. The dim red light was all that lit the tube again.

“I’ll do anything,” said the spy.

“I don’t want you to do anything.”

“Please.”

“You’re here to be punished.”

Two curved panels slid away in the tube above the spy’s midsection. Metal hands slid down, connected to the tube. They hovered above the spy, wiggling their fingers. The spy screamed and twisted her hips sideways.

“There’s no escape. I saw you looking for one earlier.”

“What do you want from me?”

“To teach you a lesson.”

The hands glided either side of the spy’s body.

“Please!”

The hand to the spy’s left went close to her hip, the hand to her right went close to the top of her ribs. The spy shrieked. The hands did not make contact. The spy twisted left and right. The hands tracked the spy’s twisting.

The hands began. The thumbs pushed down while the fingers pointed inwards. Each poke and prod seemed to find an untickled spot to deliver a sensation that the spy knew she would never get used to. The spy’s laughter filled the tube. The hands went in opposite directions, making their ways along the spy’s body. The pokes forced the spy to twist and buck her hips and shoulders, which made her arms and legs stretch. The spy’s breasts bounced left and right. Her cheeks hurt from laughter. This torture lasted for three slow cycles of both hands moving in one direction and then the other.

The hands slowed, and retracted. The spy breathed. She raised her head. The dim red light showed the spy’s body covered with a sheen of sweat. The voice spoke.

“Stick out your tongue like an idiot for me.”

The spy let her tongue flop out of her mouth, adding to the saliva already on her face. The woman giggled.

“Say ‘I’m a tickly girl’.”

“I’m a tickly Pendik Escort girl.”

The woman giggled again.

Panels above the spy’s shoulders opened. Hands like before glided through. They pinned the spy’s biceps to the metal below. Panels opened to the left and right of the spy. There was a high-pitched whirring. From both openings, spinning circular white brushes, tinted pink by the red light, extended towards the spy’s outstretched armpits. The spy flailed and screamed for help.

The woman laughed.

“That won’t work, dear. Soundproofing.”

The brushes reached the spy’s armpits. The spy cackled. She could feel each stiff hair going round and round, driving her insane. She tried to twist her shoulders away. The strong metal hands kept the spy’s biceps pinned. The spy screwed her eyes shut and turned her head side to side as she laughed. With every turn, her chin touched the metal of the hands that pinned her. Her hips danced left and right. The revolutions of the brushes were uncountable. The spy lost track of time.

The brushes halted. They did not retract. The spy sighed. The brushes started, just for a second, then stopped. The spy freaked out. The woman laughed. The unpredictable starting and stopping happened a few more times.

“Let me show you what was on that USB,” said the woman.

The screen showed an image of a young lady tinted red looking flushed with her tongue stuck out. Then it showed another, and another, and another. The woman chuckled.

“I’m going to leave for a while now,” she said. “I’ll leave the machines on to ensure you learn your lesson.”

“Wait, please! I won’t steal again! I’ll do anything! I’ll be good! I’ll be good, please!”

“I know you will, honey.”

The screen showed the spy. A live feed. Her hair was all around her, some stuck to her face. Black eyeliner ran from her eyes and pooled on the red-tinted metal behind her. Her cheeks were flushed. Just in-shot were the metal hands pinning her biceps, and the tops of her breasts.

“Wrong camera.”

The view switched to her feet. The silver arms hovered, ready and waiting. The spy howled. The arms poked into her feet and drew. The first set of hands returned, went for her sides, and prodded. The brushes on her armpits spun. The spy screamed laughter. She flexed against the bonds on her toes and the hands on her biceps. She bucked and twisted her hips. Her hands, outside of the machine, flailed as she lost her mind. As she laughed, the spy felt in her left hand another hand, a warm one, give her a quick squeeze. Then the hand was gone. The spy was left with the machines, to think about her mistakes.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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