HIGH VOLTAGE MITTENS

Nina: Sam, should we do a recap at the start of the second book?
Samantha: Yes, little rabbit.
Nina: Ooh. Keep calling me little rabbit.
Samantha: No.
Nina: Aw, come on.
Nina: Be my predator?
Samantha: Do the recap, and maybe.
Nina: Okay.
Nina: Dear reader!
Nina: We decided to post this second part of Mittens for free on all the free-porn-story sites, as well as on Amazon – and we also decided to post this one in pieces as we go, so we can get useful feedback straight away! We made the HUGE mistake of agreeing to three months’ worth of exclusivity to Amazon with part one, which means you might be reading this and wondering where the hell the first part is – which is why we’re doing this recap and filling you in on the story so far!
Samantha: Which is what you’re not doing. You’re just waffling about distributors. Get to the point.
Samantha: Immediately.
Nina: SORRY SORRY SORRY
Samantha: Dear reader.
Nina: No I can do it
Samantha: …If you must.
Samantha: Should we first explain about this chatlog, before people think that the whole thing’s just a copy-paste of someone’s cybersex session?
Nina: Probably better ought to
Samantha: “Mittens” is the story of how Nina and I got together, years and years ago. Nina is writing, and I am editing, and you are reading. At the end of the first “Mittens,” and at the beginning and end of subsequent books, Nina and I paste in a chatlog where we talk about the book and show you where we are in life right now. As is something of a tradition these days, Nina is gagged and naked, and playing the part of my desk. My laptop is resting on her bare back, and she has her elbows on the carpet and her fingers on the keyboard of her own laptop.
Samantha: Her ass is exposed and vulnerable, and right now I’m stroking her left buttock with the tines of a nasty little hairbrush.
Samantha: So that she knows to stop joking around and do this properly.
Nina: Can I do the Previously on Mittens bit now
Samantha: …go ahead. But do it correctly. The hairbrush is waiting for you, Nina.
Nina: I’ll be good.
Nina: Dear Reader!
Nina: In part one of “Mittens,” Samantha and I got together and had awesome sex.
Samantha: NINA.
Nina: What?
Nina: Ow
Samantha: It was eighty-odd pages! It was fifteen thousand words before I even got your panties down! It was about relationships and fun and laughter and love, and then steaming hot mad-scientist-on-girl action!
Samantha: (dear reader: Nina is also forbidden from vocalising, which is why she just typed “Ow” when I spanked her bare ass with this hairbrush. Like this!)
Nina: OW!
Samantha: That’s two. Now do it properly, or the handle’s going in.
Samantha: And do you see any lube around here?
Samantha: Because I don’t.
Nina: Okay.
Nina: /takes a DEEP BREATH
Nina: We opened on Samantha wondering about a tipsy conversation we’d had the night before, in which I’d drunkenly clued her in on my kinks. She wonders about humiliation, and for some reason she gets hung up on boxing gloves of all things. We go to another scene, of me using the Special Toy, which is a vibrator that was once broken, and Samantha has not only fixed but improved. We get into a little light technical discussion on vibrator modification while I reminisce, and we see that I now view this toy as a thing that Samantha has given part of herself to. Which I then put inside me. I ponder Samantha’s obliviousness. Samantha researches boxing gloves, has a revelation about them, sends me an email because she wants to know more about erotic humiliation, and I get it, and she is online – but she is masturbating at her desk at the time. I interrupt her and we get into a conversation in which we both reveal that we were merrily wanking away while thinking of each other. I arrange to come over in an hour, Sam eats a lot of toast and panics until I show up, then we kiss and hug and squeeze and fondle and she takes me upstairs.
Nina: Samantha teases me for a long time, indulging my authority kink. She is my predator, and I am her little rabbit, trembling and terrified. I slowly realise how strong she is, and it makes everything that much hotter, knowing that it’s true – that she really IS stronger and faster and cleverer than me, and that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.
Nina: At one point she threatens to pee in my face, and that’s when the reader learns about my watersports kink. She doesn’t actually pee in my face – she was only playing her role.
Nina: THEN we have sex, and it’s super-hot.
Nina: The whole time, this affair gets lengthened to novella proportions by a lot of inner thoughts and musings and revelations and sappy fun romantic stuff, and it ends with us falling asleep in each others’ arms.
Samantha: Satisfactory, I suppose.
Samantha: The point that Nina is trying to make is that you needn’t necessarily have read the first “Mittens” to enjoy this one.
Samantha: You only need to know a few things:
Samantha: That I have a fixation on the erotic properties of gloves as a method by which to degrade a person by immobilizing their thumb;
Samantha: That Nina has confessed her love of bondage and submission, but I am not yet aware of her watersports kink;
Samantha: That I am something of a mad scientist, as Nina likes to put it;
Samantha: That Nina and I have had sex, do not regret it in the slightest, and are now very happily in love.
Nina: Our story continues the following day!
Nina: If you’d like to read the first Mittens for free, keep an eye on the @featherwatt Twitter account – we’ve got four days left in which Amazon will let us give it away for free, and we’ll be sure to let you know about them. Or you could just wait until the end of May 2013, at which time our exclusivity clause will expire and we can post the whole thing for free! If you get impatient, our nome de filthybook is “Phoenix Baker!”
Nina: Happy reading!
Samantha: And now, High Voltage Mittens. Thanks for reading, and don’t forget to comment, rate or review.
Nina: Or Sam will find you and set the coil-o-tron on you.
Samantha: Yes.
Samantha: I will.
Samantha: She’s not joking.
Samantha: Happy reading, my little rabbits.

Samantha looked down at Nina. Nina looked up at Samantha.

Samantha regarded Nina critically, then gave in.

Look at those puppy dog eyes. How can I resist?

Samantha bowed her head to whisper in Nina’s ear; “Yes, you may look at her.”

Nina grinned, and turned her eyes to the painting.

This was a wonderful idea, thought Samantha with a smile, taking in the Renoir herself. Also a strange one. Probably fairly mild by Nina’s standards…

She glanced at Nina, whose eyes were on the painting; her expression was serene, appreciative.

…still, taking it slow. Easing me into it. She pushed her glasses further up her nose. Easing Nina into it, too. She knows I operate strangely, and she appreciates it, but…

She strolled on, past the Renoir and towards the exit, her arms folded in standard I-am-walking-through-an-art-gallery repose. She didn’t look behind her – she didn’t have to. Nina tore her eyes away from the painting and followed.

But this is all very new to both of us.

A curator – elderly, with a uniform, walkie-talkie, and polite smile – held the door open for Samantha.

She returned his smile, with a nod and a “Thank you.”

She heard Nina’s quiet, polite “Thanks,” behind her. She reached back, for the hand that Nina would offer.

They walked on a few steps in silence, along a beautiful but largely empty corridor, as the door closed slowly behind them, hissing gently on its air brake. Samantha slowed, applied gentle downward pressure on Nina’s hand, and Nina was by her side, close and attentive.

“Speaking to another without my prior permission,” murmured Samantha as the two proceeded along the corridor at sauntering speed. “What is the punishment?”

Nina swallowed. “Three smacks across the buttocks, medium strength, through underwear.”

Samantha nodded. “That would be the case, except for…?”

“Uh…”

“Saying ‘uh,’ ‘um,’ or any other such stalling nonsense.” Samantha smiled as they walked. “What is the punishment?”

Nina remained silent. Samantha counted the seconds. After five, Samantha looked left and right, then stopped dead. Nina stopped with her. Samantha leaned into Nina until she was confident that Nina could feel her breath.

“Answer me, Nina, or you’ll really wish you had.”

Nina looked up into Samantha’s eyes, visibly frightened, still silent.

Samantha counted the seconds. Finally, Nina spoke.

“Ten seconds’ silence immediately,” said Nina in a breathy exhale, “regardless of any instruction to the contrary. Cumulative and exponential physical punishment at your discretion for each subsequent infraction, to be recorded and administered at your leisure.”

Samantha smiled, and carried on walking. “To go back to my original question, why is the punishment different for talking to the curator, this time?”

“Politeness modifier,” answered Nina. “Halved punishment, rounded upwards, making it two smacks across my buttocks, medium strength, through my underwear.”

“Yes. When incurring a punishment through politeness, or common decency, a modifier applies,” said Samantha, quietly. “It’s only fair that the punishment be reduced. However, this is further complicated, because…?”

Nina looked down. “Penalty for forgetting an aspect of a rule, in this case the politeness modifier itself.”

Samantha grinned. “What is the punishment?”

Nina swallowed. “An increase in intensity to the original punishment. Two hard smacks across my buttocks, with or without underwear at your discretion.”

“Without, I think. Let’s look in the gift shop before we go.”

Nina smiled. “Yes!”

The penalties are really racking up, thought Samantha, idly browsing the expensive knick-knacks on display. It’s fun to try to figure out how many she’s putting on there deliberately, and how many are genuine mistakes. Also, I’m going to have to come up with more varied and inventive punishments for Nina. I’m sure I can think of more, but I’ll have to run them by her first, before putting them into the schedule.

She watched Nina flick through the postcards.

She’s so pretty.

Samantha let her eyes drift across Nina’s deep burnt orange hair, her pale shoulders, her insubstantial white blouse, her curves – she took a guilty peek at her behind, clad in tight blue jeans.

Hard to believe it was only yesterday evening that she showed me how she liked to be spanked.

Samantha smiled.

Hard to believe it was only yesterday afternoon that I kissed her for the first time.

She approached Nina, from behind. “Find anything good?”

Nina nodded. “I love the curves on this one. I love the colours.” Samantha watched Nina’s eyes scan over the postcard – noticing the way her pupils widened when she saw something beautiful.

She’d been noticing that all day, and falling a little deeper in love with Nina at every painting they passed.

And her pupils widen like that when they settle on me, too. When her body responds to me, unconsciously, the same way it responds to a famous work of art – that’s some kind of flattery, right there.

“I love the contrast,” continued Nina, her eyes on the postcard. “Look how it flows.“

Samantha looked at the postcard. She felt laughter bubble up inside her – she quenched it, and set her hands gently on Nina’s shoulders, carefully watching her reflection in the postcard rack’s acrylic.

She didn’t want to miss her reaction.

“That would be ‘Nude in an Armchair,’ Nina.” Samantha smiled, narrow-eyed, evil. “By Pablo Picasso.”

Nina looked up, the colour draining from her face.

Samantha leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Looking at a depiction of a nude woman without my permission. The most important rule of our visit here today. We went over that one in detail. And you were doing so well, little Nina. What is the punishment?”

Nina took a deep breath, looking around to see if the shopkeeper was out of earshot. “Ten full-strength strikes across my buttocks… with the hairbrush.” She swallowed. “Is there a Picasso modifier?”

Samantha squeezed Nina’s shoulders, tightly. “It seems like there should be, doesn’t it?” She kissed the tip of Nina’s ear. “No, there’s no modifier.” She felt Nina shudder. “No leniency for you, Nina. No mercy. I know you didn’t know you were looking at a nude, and that just makes this more delicious. Your poor little bottom is going to glow[i] with the force of my brutality, little rabbit. [i]That’s what you get, when you play games with a predator.”

Nina’s voice, already barely a whisper, became so quiet it was almost inaudible – “Thank you, mistress.”

“You’re welcome, Nina. We should probably buy two of those postcards. I know I’ll want a souvenir.”

“Enjoy sitting down, Nina,” said Samantha, in a happy, sing-song voice, “because after I get through with you, it’ll be out of the question.”

Nina squirmed and wriggled in her seat. “Please have mercy on me, mistress!”

Samantha grinned. “You’ll cause an accident, distracting me like that.” She changed up to fifth gear, and turned on the radio. “Shall we try to find some spanking music?”

Spanking music was not forthcoming. Instead, a sombre voice delivered a news bulletin.

Gradually the smiles – and the blood – left Samantha and Nina’s faces, as the report sunk in.

After a few minutes, Samantha had to pull over, take off her glasses, wipe her eyes. She felt Nina’s arms around her.

The two women hugged as tightly as the gearstick would allow.

Samantha’s house.

Probably not for the spanking I was so looking forward to.

Nina felt a lump in her throat. Not that I’m much in the mood anymore.

Nina watched Samantha sit down heavily on the couch. Her keys clattered on the coffee table. She sighed.

Will she send me away?

“Will you sit with me?” asked Samantha. She couldn’t quite meet Nina’s eye.

Nina nodded. “Yes,” she said, quietly, and sat down carefully next to Samantha. “But…”

“Hmm?”

“No TV, huh? Or radio.” Nina watched Samantha’s face. “Not for a little while.”

Samantha nodded. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

The two sat, their thoughts dark and private and alone. Slowly, over the course of several minutes, they gravitated together.

Soon, they sat huddled on the sofa, their arms around each other, staring down the world outside.

Finally, Samantha spoke.

“It’s not that it happened, love.”

“I know, Sam.”

“It’s that it happened again. It’s that it keeps happening.”

Nina sighed, closed her eyes, hugged Samantha tight. “I know.”

She felt a hand on her head – protective, somehow.

As though it could stop a bullet, thought Nina, bitterly. They say he reloaded three times before the police shot him down.

All those children. A decade of love and life went into each one. It only took one lunatic and one gun to destroy all of that, and he did it so quickly.

We’re all so fragile. Everything is so fragile. Love and laughter and friendship and all those forces that I thought were so strong – none of them will survive if some idiot shoots them because his mom finally evicted him from the basement.

She felt cold, even in Samantha’s arms.

It wasn’t even anyone special. It never is. It’s never some powerful supervillian, or some evil genius… it’s always just some loser with the sort of petty little problems that only ever affect one person. Some pathetic fuckup who never did anything more extraordinary than walk into a gun shop. Any idiot can do that.

He didn’t earn that power. He just bought it. He probably put it on a credit card.

“How do you cope, Sam?” she whispered. “Your classes give you any, like, Zen way of handling this? What do you do, when something like this happens?”

Samantha stroked Nina’s hair. “Oh, Nina. I’ve got it down to a fine art. We’ve all had too much practice at this.”

Nina snuggled close.

Samantha sighed. “It usually goes down like this. First, I’m angry, and I look at short-term solutions to the problem. Things we can do that would stop it from ever happening again.” She looked down at Nina. “And, because I’m angry, these solutions are all silly and destructive – either things that outright won’t work, or things that’ll work but will mess things up even worse in the short term.”

“And then what?” Nina’s voice was muffled by Samantha’s sweater.

Samantha’s fingers stroked gently around Nina’s ear. “And then I think about my dad. His job was to take a bomb, disarm it, dismantle it, and make it so that it could never hurt anyone, ever again. He taught me how to use a soldering iron and a multimeter when I was six years old, love. He was always so calm.“

Nina looked up, into Samantha’s eyes. They were wet at the edges.

“He taught me the difference between destroying something, and dismantling it. And why that difference is important – they both end up the same, but it’s the mindset you’re operating with that’s the difference. You destroy something in anger, but you dismantle something with care, and serenity. You have to, or either it breaks or – in his old line of work – it blows up and kills you.”

Nina squeezed Samantha. “I understand, but I’m not sure I get how it applies to… well, this.”

Samantha kissed Nina on the top of the head. “Let me up. I want to show you something.”

Nina, reluctantly, wriggled to the side so that Samantha could rise from the couch and approach the cupboard under the stairs. Nina followed her. She watched Samantha take a deep breath, her fingers on the handle.

Samantha turned to her. “I’ve never shown these to anyone.”

Nina pecked her, gently, on the lips. “I’ll be honoured if you decide to, Sam, but don’t feel as though you must.”

Samantha nodded, and opened the door. She reached into the shadows and pulled out a shoebox.

“I knew it,” said Nina, trying to lighten the mood. “Secret shoe fetish.”

Samantha smiled – a fragile affair that reminded Nina of a leaf poking through soil. “If only it were that simple. Come on.” She went into the kitchen, sat down with the box on her kitchen table.

Nina breathed the air. Of all the places in the world, this was the most Samantha-infused. Her kitchen table was piled with junk; electronics, mostly, but here and there bits of motor, plastic casing, servos, manuals, schematics, miscellaneous incomprehensible detritus. Other kitchens smelled like baking cookies or bubbling coffee – this one did too, but with a faint metallic undertone of solder, and overheating batteries, and the acid that Samantha used on her circuit boards.

Nina took a seat. She felt very much at home here, and very much in love – sitting here was almost like being inside Samantha, in a way no less intimate than the way she’d been inside her last night. And this morning.

Samantha sat down, and took the lid off the shoebox. Inside was a chaos of shapes and colours, but one thing jumped out immediately.

“Jesus, Sam -” Nina’s eyes widened. “Is that a gun?”

Samantha closed her fingers around the handle of the item in question. “It used to be,” she said, very quietly. She pulled the item out of the box; a silvery jewellery chain hooked on it briefly before letting go. “But it isn’t, any more. Here.”

She offered the gun to Nina.

Nina hesitated, then took it. It was cold, and heavy. She felt a dreadful sensation of power in its weight – power unwanted and unearned. She kept the muzzle pointed towards the floor, her finger well away from the trigger.

“Is it loaded?”

“Look carefully, love.”

Nina examined the machine. “I don’t normally hang around with guns, Sam. What am I looking for?”

“See the little knobbly bit on the side? It’s a lever. Rotate it downwards.”

Nina did as instructed. Something heavy fell out of the handle, and clattered on the table. Nina looked down.

Then she looked up, into Samantha’s wet eyes. “That’s a battery, isn’t it?”

Samantha nodded. “Nina, never do this with a real gun, but look in the muzzle.”

For the briefest moment, Nina hesitated. Then, trusting Samantha, she did as she was told.

Something was shining, down there in the cold metal darkness.

“Something glass, or clear plastic,” murmured Nina. “It’s a lens, I think.”

Oh God, thought Nina. It’s a laser. She’s made a no-shit, honest-to-goodness laser gun.

Samantha spoke quietly. “It’s a light gun, love.”

What?

Nina looked up at Samantha. “You mean… like… for computer games?”

Samantha nodded. “You remember I was a sucker for House of the Dead. I made this after the Columbine massacre. Although I will admit, my tastes went more towards Point Blank and cutesy gun games after that.”

Nina put the gun down on the table. “You made a videogame gun, Sam… out of a real handgun.”

Samantha nodded. “Yes,” she said, barely audible.

She’s struggling, thought Nina. She’s showing me a part of herself that’s gone through her usual eccentricity and into… into something dark.

Nina stared at Samantha. She wants me to reassure her that I don’t think she’s crazy.

Can I do that? While I’m thinking of her blowing away videogame zombies with a controller made out of a real gun?

Nina swallowed. “What else is in that shoebox, Sam?”

Samantha reached into the box, and took out a little green circuit board. It was star-shaped. When she pressed a button, colourful lights flashed in sequence at each point. “It’s a Christmas ornament,” she said. She handed it to Nina.

Nina took it, pressed the little button, watched the pretty lights.

“The chip in the middle sends voltage to the LED’s in sequence,” said Samantha. “It was originally part of the detonation circuit from a roadside bomb.”

Nina felt something inside her lurch and turn over; something begging for release. A cough, or a sneeze, or an orgasm, or a violent scream, or a full-body jerk. She settled on a shiver.

“It handled the timing of the capacitors that…” Samantha sighed. Nina saw, clear as day, Samantha realizing that she was about to get into a lengthy technical explanation that Nina would find tedious, and stopping herself. “Well, it doesn’t really matter what it used to do. My old man pocketed the chip, back in the eighties. He picked up a lot of stuff, here and there. Souveniers, you know.” She dipped her hand into the box.

This gets better and better, thought Nina, her heart sinking, a terrible sick feeling in her gut. Ten years I’ve known her – and I knew she was a bit odd, but…

“This pendant,” said Samantha, bringing out the chain that had tangled in the gun – “I made this from a nasty little knife that I took from a mugger a few years ago.” It was heart-shaped, and sparkled in the afternoon sun. “See the little channel, here?” She pointed to a vertical indentation running down the left side of the heart shape. “That’s to let the blood out faster, apparently. Probably form over function, I can’t see how it’d make much difference, but muggers like weapons that look intimidating.”

And now, just as I open my heart to her…

And she never told me about that!

“When were you mugged?”

Samantha shrugged. “I think it was the same night you and Steve split up.”

Nina stared. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Samantha looked puzzled. “You and Steve had just split up. You were hurting.” She looked down. “It was all over in a few seconds, I lost nothing, I left him able to run away and I had more important things to think about. Didn’t think it was worth mentioning, given the situation.” She turned the heart over and over in her hands. “I was just going to throw the knife away, but when I got home I was coming down from the adrenaline, and I felt depressed. So I put it in the box, and then a few weeks later I took it out of the box, and turned it into this.”

Oh, God… she’s so strange.

And this fascination with weapons…

Samantha set the heart down on the table, and looked at Nina. “When I despair of the world, I build things. It’s not much, really – it doesn’t really do much good. I don’t think I can do much good, on my own. I’m just one woman. But it feels like…” she looked into the box, shrugged. “It feels like something, you know? I have to do something, even if it accomplishes nothing big. It feels like putting my finger on the scales, a little bit. Normally it’s just some silly little electronics project, or a blog post, or something. It’s only when I get really down that it’s not enough to just make something, and I get the urge to turn weapons into toys.”

Suddenly, Nina understood.

Turning weapons into toys.

Her fingers closed unconsciously around the ornament.

It’s not a fascination with weapons. It’s a fascination with changing them into things that aren’t weapons anymore.

“I’m doing a bad job of explaining my little box of crazy, aren’t I?” asked Samantha, smiling nervously. “I’ve never, like…” she pushed her glasses further up her nose. “I’ve never put it into words, like this.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” said Nina, quietly.

Samantha looked into Nina’s eyes. “Really?”

“Actually, no, I’m lying through my teeth. You’re nuts, Sam.” She smiled. “But you’re the good kind of nuts. The kind of nuts that wants to take all the awful things in the world and make them good.” She set the ornament down, stood up, leaned over the table so they were close. “I love you, Sam.”

Their lips touched. Nina watched Samantha close her eyes before closing her own. They breathed together, lips sliding gently, tenderly against one another, warm in a cold world. Nina felt Samantha’s glasses bump against her nose, and Samantha’s hand run gently through her hair.

Samantha drew back. The kiss ended, as sooner or later all kisses must. “I love you too, Nina.”

Nina smiled. “Thank you for showing me this.”

Samantha said nothing, but looked relieved.

“I think I understand,” said Nina, stroking Samantha’s cheek, “that it’s not enough to just destroy something evil, sometimes.”

Samantha nodded. “More satisfying to change its nature. Corrupt it into something good.” She kissed Nina, tenderly, a brief touch of the lips. “Perverts gotta pervert the things that need perverting.”

Nina smiled. She looked down, into the box.

Her eyes widened. Another familiar shape.

“Oho!” she said, grinning. “Tell me about that one.”

Samantha laughed – a beautiful sound, so close to Nina’s ears. “That one… well, that one’s special.” She took the item in question from the box.

“A big purple dildo,” sang Nina, “With a black box on the bottom, and a big scary-looking button. What’s the story with this one – did its batteries come from a tazer?”

Samantha smiled. “I made this just after I fixed your vibrator. It’s the only one that I made when I wasn’t in despair. Also, it doesn’t run on batteries.” She ran a finger along its length. “It contains an experimental projectile weapon.”

Nina stared. “What.“

Samantha nodded. “It’s called a coilgun. It works by accelerating a ferrous projectile along a rail, using precisely-timed electromagnets. In this case, the projectile is captive, so it’s more like a beefed-up, super-powered solenoid.” Nina felt Samantha’s fingers on the back of her hand. “The army’s investigating their feasibility as weapons right now. They want to make a silent, high-powered, recoilless rifle. They want to use this technology to kill people.” Samantha turned to Nina, and smiled. “So of course I couldn’t let them do that without at least tweaking their noses a little bit. I want to use the same technology to make people come.” She kissed Nina on the nose, her eyes narrowed. “Make people come hard.“

Nina stared at the toy. “So… it doesn’t just vibrate, then?”

Samantha smiled, looking down at the toy. “No, it’s better than that. It stops the projectile against a reinforced bracket, transferring the momentum to the whole toy.”

Suddenly, her eyes locked onto Nina’s. In a low, firm voice and with an evil smile, she said “Now listen carefully, little rabbit.”

Nina shivered. Immediately, she felt her nipples hardening.

I am your little rabbit, Sam. I am your little rabbit, cowering and terrified and obedient, and you are my predator.

“Anything, mistress,” breathed Nina, her stomach turning over.

Samantha pointed to a big black box on the kitchen table, festooned with meters and knobs. “Plug in that power supply.”

Nina traced the cord through the piles, and looked around her for an outlet.

“Behind you, silly girl,” purred Samantha.

Nina found the outlet, plugged in the cord. A high-pitched whine came from the power supply, and its meters lit up.

“Turn the left-hand knob slowly, Nina, clockwise, until the meter reads twelve volts.”

Nina did as she was told; the whine changed, and the needle moved.

“Now, see…” said Samantha, doing something complicated to the toy. The black box at the base detached – a thick, coiled black wire hung between the jolly purple shaft of the toy and its…

Control unit? Power supply? No, this is the power supply. That must be the control unit, then?

“Take this end, Nina.” Samantha passed the toy to Nina, holding onto the black box. Nina took it. Samantha took a black wire with a power jack on the end, and plugged it into the black box.

“Now,” said Samantha, “Hold on tight.“

Nina gripped the toy, feeling a rolling in her belly, trepidation in her spine.

What’s going to happen?

Samantha, smiling, did something to a knob or a slider or something that Nina couldn’t see – the box she was holding onto began to whine, its pitch increasing until it was inaudible. Nina watched Samantha, her eyes obscured by the reflection of the lighted meters on her glasses.

She really does look like a mad scientist sometimes.

Samantha pressed the big scary-looking button.

There was a loud BANG from Nina’s hand. The toy jumped upwards, jerking her arm. Her hand felt tingly.

“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Nina, her rabbithood forgotten.

“No,” said Samantha, cackling – “science!“

“Fucking hell, Sam, you put this in your vagina?“

Samantha laughed. “It’s a unique sensation, I’ll tell you that!” She pointed to a slider switch, on the control box. “It’s a three-coil gun – that was with coils one and two. With all three operating in series, it’s kinda hard to hold on to.”

Nina stared at the toy in equal parts horror and fascination.

“Is it safe?” She swallowed. “…mistress?”

Samantha came closer, pointed to the tip of the toy in Nina’s hand. “The material is a little translucent. If you look closely, you can see how much steel there is at the point the projectile impacts. I’ve reinforced it to tolerances far beyond any voltage you’d ever want to use. If you’re worried about the projectile breaking through the toy, don’t. The coils will burn out first, if we take it that far.”

Nina shivered. “Will it hurt, mistress?”

“I’ve designed this machine so that it’s very stable and predictable, Nina. It does precisely what I tell it to, no more, no less. It will only hurt you if I want it to.” Samantha kissed Nina gently on the forehead. “Go into my bedroom, and bring a condom and the lubricant from the drawer in my bedside table.”

Nina’s eyes widened. She looked at the toy in her hand, the thick wire leading to Samantha’s control box.

That wire is thick because it carries lots of amps, thought Nina. I’ve picked up enough about this stuff to know that, just from watching Sam.

It’s the amps that are dangerous.

“Yes, mistress,” said Nina, and put the toy down on the table.

She shivered as she headed through the corridor to the foot of the stairs. Are we really doing this? Am I really going to let Sam put an experiment in my most sensitive, vulnerable place?

She mounted the staircase, feeling cold, excited, fearful.

The Special Toy…

No, this is different. This isn’t the Special Toy that I love as a part of Sam. The Special Toy is just one of my old rabbits with a bit of extra oomph; this coil thingy is insane! She said herself that it was based on an experimental weapon!

She opened the door to Samantha’s bedroom, smelling the incense and fresh laundry; and a very faint undercurrent of recently-expressed love. The smell calmed her, somewhat.

I trust her. More importantly, if the machine came from her hands, then I trust it, too. She wouldn’t do this if there were any danger.

She opened the bedside table, retrieved a condom and a mostly-full bottle of lube, headed back downstairs.

Her calm lasted until she entered the kitchen and saw the cable, dangling from Samantha’s hand.

That thick, black cable.

Thick for lots and lots of amps.

Nina felt the fear return, creeping up her lower back.

Samantha gave her a hard stare, holding the toy and its frightening circuitry. “Are you scared, Nina?”

Nina nodded. “Yes, mistress,” she whispered.

Samantha smiled. “Open the condom, and put the packet in the trash there.”

Nina did so, her fingers shaking.

“Now pick up the toy, and dress it up in the condom.”

Nina rolled the condom slowly down the length of the toy. It wasn’t particularly big; perhaps, even, a little shorter than most toys Nina had played with. A happy little clitoral-stimulation rabbit stood, ears erect, at the base. That would at least stop the toy from jumping all the way inside and hitting Nina’s cervix.

But it’s not the size that matters, thought Nina. It’s how it moves.

It’s how many amps that big wire can hold.

“You’re shaking,” said Samantha, quietly. “Is it because it’s occuring to you that I have a large supply of batteries of all shapes and sizes and chemistries, and yet this toy doesn’t use any of them?”

Nina stared at Samantha.

“Did it cross your mind,” said Samantha, idly leaning on the table, “that there would be a reason for that?”

Actually, it didn’t. Oh God.

“Look at the size of that power supply,” said Samantha. “That’s what we call a ‘Bench’ power supply, Nina. Batteries can’t supply the current that this toy needs, as fast as it needs it, so it has to be plugged into the mains. And then,” she said with a grin, “plugged into you. Doesn’t that make you just a little bit nervous?”

“Yes, mistress,” whimpered Nina. And it was true. Very, very true.

“We’re ready, little rabbit.”

What do you mean, we’re ready? We’re doing this now? Right now?

Samantha gently took the toy from Nina with her right hand, the control box in her left. She smiled down at Nina.

“Take off your jeans and underwear,” she said slowly, “and bend over, with your hands on the table, and your legs apart.”

Nina’s breath caught as she found herself unbuttoning her jeans.

Wait, what am I doing?!

She pushed down her jeans, taking her panties with them.

Because she told me to?!

She looked at Samantha as she stepped out of her jeans. Samantha was spreading lube over the device, grinning, watching Nina.

Her thighs and hindquarters felt cold and bare. She didn’t wait for Samantha’s command; she leaned over the table, exposing herself.

The table smelt of voltage and solder and electrical heat. Her face was directly in front of the big black power supply, humming softly to itself – she wasn’t sure whether she could feel a faint vibration through the table, or if she was just imagining that she could. She looked at the meter marked with a “V” – it glowed with a warm incandescent light, the needle pointing at 12.

She felt Samantha’s hand on her rear. A squeeze – light and casual, just enough to let her know who she belonged to.

Nina felt the toy push between the wet lips of her labia and slither with shocking ease into her body.

I’m wet for this?!

Nina did not feel the rabbit touch her clitoris – instead, it pushed gently between her buttocks.

Oh God…

Samantha’s hand, holding the control box, appeared in front of her. “Eyes forward, Nina,” said Samantha from above. Nina watched as she set the controller down on the table, delicately pushed a slider switch with a click and an escalating high-pitched whine, and ran her finger around the button, stroking it, teasing it.

At the same time, she felt a stroking, teasing motion around her clitoris; a wet finger slid through her folds on either side, not yet touching the nubbin itself, merely saying hello.

Expertly dividing my attention between feeling pleasure and seeing fear.

What am I doing?

The finger stroked delicately over Nina’s clitoris – a hot, sparking pulse. She cried out.

Samantha’s finger, circling the button, came to rest in its center. “You know,” said Samantha, quietly, “this button doesn’t actually energise the coilgun. It sends a signal to a tiny little voltage regulator chip attached to a great big heatsink, that switches on the current to the coils. It’s this way because the current is so high -“

Nina cried out again, in terror and pleasure…

“…so high, little rabbit, that switching it with the button directly would make a spark big enough to weld -” she tapped lightly on the button, not yet triggering it – “the contacts -” another little tap – “closed.“

“Oh, God!” moaned Nina, ripples of pleasure running up her spine, waves of fear running down, colliding in the centre, tearing her in two. She felt sweat bead on her skin, cold and shivery.

“My goodness, Nina, you whine nearly as much as those huge transformers. The ones that are energized right now. Ready and waiting, Nina, for me to unleash their power into your poor little cunny.” Her finger ran around the edges of the button, slowed towards its center. “We’re about to move a lot of energy in a very short time, Nina. On the order of milliseconds. If you’re particularly observant, you’ll be able to smell the ozone.”

“I’m scared!” cried Nina, white and trembling, the hum of the power supply loud in her ears. “Oh Jesus!”

Samantha laughed. “He won’t help you now. You belong to me. Here it comes.”

Adrenaline and endorphins mixing ice and fire together, Nina watched the tip of Samantha’s finger whiten and flex against the button, and was shocked to feel herself tipped into orgasm – she had exactly one second to consider how she felt about that, before the button’s internal switch made contact.

Time seemed to slow down – she heard a tiny click from the button, watched the lamps behind the meters dim, saw the “A” meter jump – then, like a rubber band, time snapped back and everything happened very quickly indeed, and that was when the coils energized and the projectile accelerated and the toy moved backwards inside Nina with a tiny recoil and tickled her labia – and then the slug hit the bracket and the toy burst forward with a muffled thump, the shockwave belting through Nina’s cervix and into her abdomen, splitting her in two, burying itself inside her in a way no mortal ever had, leaving her quivering, screaming, shaking on the table, her orgasm gushing through her.

It was like a bolt of lightning, thought Nina, panting unashamedly on the table, the rabbit hugging her perinium, prodding snugly between her buttocks. And also a little bit like being punched in the cunt… but in a good way.

I didn’t think that was possible.

“Did you just come?” asked Samantha, her tone light and amused. “From one jolt? More from the anticipation, I’ll bet.”

Nina chuckled, panting and broken on the table. “Yeah…”

“Come again, then.” Samantha pressed the button.

Nina’s world exploded. She cried out, a high, breathless “Ah!” The toy jolted inside her, a brutal, uncaring machine. Shock travelled through Nina’s thighs and abdomen, pleasure following a split-second later.

Then, it happened again. Nina noted with horror that Samantha was holding down the button, and the jolts were pounding into her one after the other.

“So we’ve got a slider, a button, and a potentiometer,” said Sam, raising her voice over the cries and yelps of pleasure and shock bursting forth involuntarily from Nina’s lips. “You know what the button does. The slider turns on up to three coils – right now there’s just the lower coil active. That determines how hard it pounds your poor little pussy. The potentiometer, here, influences how fast it brutalizes you – right now it’s firing at two hertz, or twice a second. It goes up to eight as standard, but there’s an overdrive that puts it into what I like to call “Woodpecker mode.” That’s for when you absolutely have to be brutally fucked as hard and as fast as possible, and you don’t care about the lifespan of the voltage regulator. I only ever used it on rather cold days, to give it a better chance of not overheating. Are you paying attention, Nina?”

“AA-AA-AH!“

“Good. Want some clit stimulation to go with that?” Nina felt Samantha’s hand underneath her, fingers pressing on either side of her clitoris, pulling and jerking upwards…

“OH-SHIT-FUCK-JE-SUS-FUCK!” opined Nina in single syllables forced out between jolts, her insides tingling and glowing, her diaphragm jumping upwards with each thump, another orgasm thundering towards her.

“Yes, precisely,” purred Samantha. “Call me ‘mistress,’ Nina.”

“Th-tha-thank-you-mis-tress!”

“Does make it hard to talk, doesn’t it?” asked Samantha. “I like that. You’re my dirty little fuckslave, aren’t you, Nina?”

“Y-yes-mis-tress!”

“What are you?”

“I’m-y-y-your-dir-” Waves of hot, pulsing orgasm struck Nina, crashing through her, shattering her into pieces. Language – that which had tipped her over the edge – became one of those things that happens to other people. “AA-AA-AA-AA-AAH!”

“Dir-ah-ah? You’re my dir-ah-ah? Tell me, Nina. You’re my dirty, filthy, naughty little bitch. You’re mine, to do with as I please. And what I please, now, is for you to keep coming.”

Nina’s eyes crossed – in her view, the voltmeter switched places with the ammeter and they become one, pulsing in time with the jolts.

“That’s the wonderful thing about this toy, Nina. When you’re with some brute of a man who’s thrusting his dick into you over and over and over, and you start to come, half the time he’ll change the pace, speed up or something – like a fool, because how does he think he got you to orgasm in the first place?”

Nina, of course, continued her agonized, ecstatic screaming, her throat becoming raw. She had just enough presence of mind to consider the length of her orgasm worrying, then frightening – being this out of control of her body wasn’t new to her, she’d learned it last night. But for this long?

“But this is just an uncaring machine – it keeps up the same rate,” said Samantha. “Very predictable, very stable. I can sit here and hold down this button and twiddle your little clit all day long, Nina. You might never stop coming.”

She lifted her finger from the switch, and everything abruptly stopped. Nina’s hips bucked against the toy out of habit, her orgasm diminishing, the waves slowing down.

“Or, I could not,” said Samantha, yawning. “That’s a problem with this toy. It’s either fucking you or not fucking you. You don’t get to come down nice and gentle, slowly fading out like with a nice vibrator.” Nina, sweating, panting, saw through blurry eyes Samantha’s fingers slide the switch one position upwards. A click, a whine.

No…

“Well, you sort of can,” said Samantha, turning the knob a few degrees. “But to do that you have to increase the power or the frequency, first. It’s not a smooth drop from energized to nothing, is what I’m saying.”

No!

Nina watched with terrified eyes as Samantha’s finger circled the button, trying to summon enough breath to beg her to stop, as Samantha continued. “Another problem is that using all three coils is only time and a half as strong as using two, but two coils – which is what we’re set to now, Nina – are twice as strong as one.”

Twice as strong!

“Nina, look at me.”

Nina looked up. Samantha looked down.

“Are you frightened?”

Nina swallowed. “Yes.” The truth.

Samantha smiled, and slowly ran her hand down to the crotch of her jeans. “Do you realise how much that excites me?” She gripped herself between her legs, rubbing slowly back and forth.

It does. She’s not acting, she’s not playing around. She’s starting to become truly excited at seeing me shaking and terrified.

Nina looked at Samantha in mixed horror and excitement.

She’s a genius, and I’ve arranged things so that she gets off on scaring me.

What have I done? What sort of force am I unleashing?

The safeword bubbled up in her mind; Nina knew that she would not say it.

Not with two coils. Not with two-thirds the power that Sam sometimes uses.

I can take it.

Samantha pressed the button, and there was a bang from inside Nina’s vagina. The shockwave belted through her body, reaching her throat. The difference in force between one coil and two literally took Nina’s breath away – she felt the shockwave corrugate the air inside her lungs. She felt the force of the blow bounce off her tailbone and reverberate around her pussy. Before she had time to yell, another jolt pounded into her, shaking her, rattling her teeth.

Not just twice as strong, twice as fast too!

She was a piston in a some unspeakable engine, being hurled back and forth by violent explosions she was powerless to resist. She gripped the table; the piles of detritus shook with each thump, screws and resistors rolling off and skittering on the kitchen floor. The ammeter jumped rhythmically in front of her, its needle reaching almost the center of its travel. Her hot, abused cunt was overwhelmed in sensation – numb and tingling but still insistently telling the rest of her that it was time to fall over and die for a little while.

But Samantha wouldn’t let her. Samantha had her finger on the button, openly groping herself through her jeans as she watched Nina writhe in the torment she had created, her eyes widened and unashamedly excited.

Another orgasm came riding up on her – no, I don’t want that, I can’t take it, I’ll die! – and Nina was overcome by it, run down by it, abused by it.

“I love watching you lose control like that,” moaned Samantha. “You’re a dirty bitch, aren’t you, Nina?”

Nina, screaming in the middle of her orgasm, felt an abrupt and overwhelming urge to urinate.

No! That’s not possible! I just went, as we got inside!

She screwed her eyes shut, her screams growing louder, and realized with shame and horror that she wasn’t even nearly going to be able to hold it in.

She gave up and let go – and as she did so, her orgasm intensified, more than she ever thought it could. A point of brilliant white light stabbed through somewhere between her vagina and clitoris, filled her, spun, pulsed, and exploded outwards, leaving her suffused with a radiant glow that rebounded from every muscle in her body, her shame running in hot trickles down her thighs.

Her knees shaking, she slipped in her own puddle.

Samantha, of course, caught her before she could hurt herself.

“I don’t think this is pee, Nina.” Samantha held Nina close, stroking her. “It doesn’t smell like it. And it’s clear. Well, clearish.”

They lay in the puddle, on the kitchen floor, Nina on top of Samantha, staring up at the ceiling, still weak and trembling and fighting for breath.

Nina sighed. “I was beginning to think that, yes,” she panted. “That’s only happened to me once before.”

Samantha grinned. “I think you squirted.”

“It’s certainly less embarrassing,” said Nina. “I wouldn’t want to think of you saving me from falling into a puddle of my own piss by throwing yourself into it.”

Samantha squeezed Nina tightly. “I don’t mind. I’d swim in your piss, if it’d mean stopping you from being hurt.”

Nina contemplated the image. There was silence for a moment.

“That was…” Samantha began. “That was a very strange thing I just said, Nina.”

Nina chuckled. “Yup.”

“I made you squirt.” Nina could hear the smile in Samantha’s voice.

She smiled herself. “You did.”

“I’ve never been able to do that, myself,” said Samantha. “I’ve tried, y’know. Last time I tried it with a guy… didn’t go so well.”

“What happened?”

Nina felt Samantha shrug. “He was fingering me, I was on the brink, we’d been trying to figure out the whole squirting thing, it looked like it was about to happen… so of course I farted.”

Nina chuckled.

“Not just a little girly toot, either,” said Samantha. “I mean a big, long, rippling honker, the sort that makes your eyes water. The cat got up and left the room.”

Nina’s chuckle became genuine laughter, and she felt Samantha’s chest jiggling behind her too.

Her lungs ached beautifully. Laughter, so soon after orgasmic screaming, felt strangely like a mini-orgasm in her chest. It warmed her heart.

“Was that with Todd?”

Nina felt Samantha nod. “Heh. Yeah – and you saw how well that turned out!”

Nina guffawed. “If there was ever a guy that needed farted on…”

“I know! Hah!”

The two laughed together in the puddle under the kitchen table.

“Come on,” chuckled Samantha, “we just spent the morning in a fancy art gallery, we can’t be laughing at farts now, it’s not proper…”

“All right,” said Nina in between giggles, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

“Agreed. I should probably shower, too.”

Nina turned her head, awkwardly, to look at Samantha. “I put that gunk on you. Can I help you wash it off?”

“I played my part in putting it there too, love,” said Samantha, stroking Nina’s hair. “But that sounds nice.”

That’s all for now, folks – check back soon for more!
~FeatherWatt

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