FYS: Mutual Satisfaction (Quisling and Khan, PG-13)
So instead of writing drabbles this week, I somehow pop this out over a lunch break. WTF?
* * *
She was becoming seriously addicted to massages. Especially long, slow ones where heated oils were rubbed gently into her skin, leaving her boneless, as Khan watched over her.
“Y’know,” she mumbled into her pillow, “if I’m supposed to be producing pro-Groupmind propaganda for you, this isn’t exactly getting me motivated to get off my duff and start typing.”
Khan stepped forward, fingers stroking the base of her neck, just under the ring of her hullmetal collar, stronger than diamond, absolutely permanent, and her mark of ultimate submission to the Groupmind’s cause of gentle imprisonment of Humanity. “You’ve produced a great deal of material for Us already. And there is time. The job of convincing Humanity of Our benevolent purpose is not the work of one lifetime.”
“Mmmm… “ A tingle went down her spine at Khan’s neck rub. “Okay… no hurry… mmmm….” The panthermorphs rolled her over, and began wrapping her legs and arms with soft linens. “What do you get out of this?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What do you get out of pampering me? I mean, I know what I’m getting out of it. What's the appeal to you? You're not getting off dominating me, you're a robot. No hormones to stimulate.”
“Service it its own reward,” Khan said, massaging her temples.
“That's not an answer.... Okay, you've got a year to stop doing that.”
“All right. Think of yourself as a balm.”
“Eh?”
“You've given yourself willingly,enthusiastically even, to being subjugated by the Groupmind. You don't fear Us.”
“Not everyone does.” The panthermorphs had pressed her legs together and her arms to her sides, using wider lengths of linen to bind her limbs firmly and comfortably as they turned her into a living mummy.
“Not many don't. We can read everyone's body language, you see. Most of Humanity tolerates us because they have no choice, but even the ones who don't feel anger towards us are just a little tense when We are in their presence, and We always are.” He cradled her head in his paws. “You though. You don't fear Us at all. You trust us, completely and without reservation. That's why we treasure you so highly.”
The panthermorphs brought out a golden torc, inlaid with turquoise and rubies. On Lost Earth it could have bought a small country. Here, it was for her. Khan raised her head slightly as they wrapped it over her shoulders and across her chest, the weight pinning her down to the table.
“Treasure, eh?” she breathed.
“Yes.” He lifted her up by the shoulders, as the panthermorphs took hold her bound legs, carrying her over to the golden sarcophagus and laying her inside.
“How long are you going to keep me in here?” she asked.
“Until I choose to open it,” Khan said.
“All right.” She smiled up at him. “I trust you.”
“I know.”
Then the lid closed, leaving her in warm darkness.
* * *
She was becoming seriously addicted to massages. Especially long, slow ones where heated oils were rubbed gently into her skin, leaving her boneless, as Khan watched over her.
“Y’know,” she mumbled into her pillow, “if I’m supposed to be producing pro-Groupmind propaganda for you, this isn’t exactly getting me motivated to get off my duff and start typing.”
Khan stepped forward, fingers stroking the base of her neck, just under the ring of her hullmetal collar, stronger than diamond, absolutely permanent, and her mark of ultimate submission to the Groupmind’s cause of gentle imprisonment of Humanity. “You’ve produced a great deal of material for Us already. And there is time. The job of convincing Humanity of Our benevolent purpose is not the work of one lifetime.”
“Mmmm… “ A tingle went down her spine at Khan’s neck rub. “Okay… no hurry… mmmm….” The panthermorphs rolled her over, and began wrapping her legs and arms with soft linens. “What do you get out of this?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What do you get out of pampering me? I mean, I know what I’m getting out of it. What's the appeal to you? You're not getting off dominating me, you're a robot. No hormones to stimulate.”
“Service it its own reward,” Khan said, massaging her temples.
“That's not an answer.... Okay, you've got a year to stop doing that.”
“All right. Think of yourself as a balm.”
“Eh?”
“You've given yourself willingly,enthusiastically even, to being subjugated by the Groupmind. You don't fear Us.”
“Not everyone does.” The panthermorphs had pressed her legs together and her arms to her sides, using wider lengths of linen to bind her limbs firmly and comfortably as they turned her into a living mummy.
“Not many don't. We can read everyone's body language, you see. Most of Humanity tolerates us because they have no choice, but even the ones who don't feel anger towards us are just a little tense when We are in their presence, and We always are.” He cradled her head in his paws. “You though. You don't fear Us at all. You trust us, completely and without reservation. That's why we treasure you so highly.”
The panthermorphs brought out a golden torc, inlaid with turquoise and rubies. On Lost Earth it could have bought a small country. Here, it was for her. Khan raised her head slightly as they wrapped it over her shoulders and across her chest, the weight pinning her down to the table.
“Treasure, eh?” she breathed.
“Yes.” He lifted her up by the shoulders, as the panthermorphs took hold her bound legs, carrying her over to the golden sarcophagus and laying her inside.
“How long are you going to keep me in here?” she asked.
“Until I choose to open it,” Khan said.
“All right.” She smiled up at him. “I trust you.”
“I know.”
Then the lid closed, leaving her in warm darkness.