HATCHETTE
by
A.E. Ducheau
Copyright © 2010 by A.E Ducheau
Smashwords Edition
email the author at ducheau@gmail.com
Dick and Jane
Roku was late for class again. Her heels echoed as they clicked down the cavernous corridors, from St. Juliet's central Cloister all the way out to the Social Studies classrooms. She should be running, Roku knew, but she'd twist an ankle if she attempted it. Stupid fucking shoes... The five inch heels served no purpose but to stick her ass out from under the ridiculously short pleated skirt – her school 'uniform'. What a joke. She couldn't reach for as much as a dropped stylus without flashing her panties at the whole world.
But then Roku guessed that was the whole point – the tight cotton shirt hugging snuggly to her breasts, the white knee-high socks contrasting into the black of her Mary Janes – the Matrons were a bunch of fucking perverts, all the way up the Order. Even whatever bureaucrat, hidden away in some small office somewhere in the Sentinel Building, must have been masturbating frantically as she'd conceived of the school dress code. Just the thought of every pubescent girl in the world showing off their ass – you could just see her... fingers buried up to the second knuckle, deep in the wet warmth of her jane.
Thinking like that wasn't getting Roku to class any faster.
She took the next corner far too quickly, and her feet gave out from underneath her. An ankle buckled and her arms shot out for balance. Her history textbook went flying, along with her leather folio. Shit! she cursed to herself. She needed to be careful. The folio contained her tablet and stylus, as one might expect, but it also doubled as a secret holster for her burner – the small plasma handgun she'd, as a Hatchette, been issued. If that thing went off at school... well, her cover would be well and truly blown. Teenage girls weren't supposed to carry around energy weapons, and certainly shouldn't bring them to school. Her mission would be over before it had even begun if anyone found out about the weapon – discovered that Roku was secretly a Hatchette.
Gathering up her things, she hopped the last few meters to the door of her History Class. She sucked in a deep breath and turned the handle of the door. She wasn't one step into the room before the Matron sent the black, heavy battery pack flying. This was the normal punishment for tardiness: A spare battery pack for a tablet thrown, full force, by the Matron at the tardy student's head. There'd be more punishment later, of course, but the blow to the head instantly punctuated the Matron's displeasure.
Roku could have caught the battery pack. Even taken by surprise, the door still only half open, she could have reached out and caught the black block in the air – all Hatchettes' reflexes were artificially enhanced and augmented – but she went ahead and let the battery smack her in the left temple. A Hatchette could have caught the battery pack in the air without thinking, but not a normal schoolgirl... and that was what Roku was pretending to be. Roku would have to take her lumps and like it.
“Late again, Roku?” the Matron asked, not expecting and answer. The other girls, already in their seats, tittered like the schoolgirls they were.
“Sorry, Matron,” Roku replied, trying to sound contrite. Roku held her hand to her head in an pantomime of pain. The blow hadn't heart her. Her body registered the injury, that was all. Pain was irrelevant to Roku.
“Pick it up,” the Matron ordered, and Roku knew that the second part of her punishment had arrived. She bent forward and reached out to where the battery had landed. She had the top three buttons of her shirt undone, as all the girls did; it was the style and an unofficial part of the dress code. She knew the Matron would get a good solid look down her cleavage – the smooth flesh of her C-cup breasts pushing out of her shirt. Roku looked up to see the Matron smiling. The pervert! A hint of a tongue emerged and licked the bright scarlet of the Matron's lips. Roku stood up and walked the short distance across the classroom to the Matron, letting her heels click on the stone.
“See me after class, Roku,” the Matron said, taking the battery pack. Roku turned and skulked away, but could feel the Matron's eyes burning into her rear. She found a seat in the front row.
The Matrons were supposed to be chaste – they belonged to an ascetic order – but they treated the school as little more than their own personal harem. Punishments, as Roku knew, were usually sexual in nature– pain and pleasure all wrapped in one.
All the Matrons were insane, Roku thought, draped from shoulder-to-toe in their long block robes, a tight corset worn on the outside to give their middle-aged frames shape. They applied white, pancake makeup generously to their faces, giving them all the appearance of crazed kabuki actresses. They were rapers of teenage girls, pure and simple, using the Order to gave their acts an air of godliness.
But the Hatchettes had no been created to punish the Matrons. No, purging the Order if its perverts was not Roku mission, as much as it would please her to do so. The Hatchettes had been created to hunt down and destroy a much more dangerous predator that stalked the earth than the Order of Matrons. The most evil predator of all:
Men.
“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” the Matron continued, shooting Roku a glance that was half disapproval, half lust. “The Dick and Jane Wars were the seminal event that lead to the creation of our Great Society, and for the rest of this semester we will be studying each of the wars in detail.”
Roku pulled her tablet out of her folio and turned it on. The Matron's lecture notes appeared on the screen.
“As strange as it may seem to a room full of you young girls,” she said young with a tone that only a middle-aged deviant could obtain. “There used to be two sexes of humankind: male and female. But at the end of the last century, after countless generations of subjugation, the female sex rebelled.
“There were six wars in all – but that is misleading... though we distinguish between the separate wars, they were all part of the same struggle: the liberation of womankind, the end of male hegemony, and the birth of our Great Society,” the Matron paused to let her rhetoric settle in the ears and impressionable minds of her pupals. “Now, if you'll navigate your tablets to entry fifty six, we can begin this lecture with a discussion of how technological advancements in ex-utero fertilization led to...”
Roku switched off her brain.
The Matron blathered on, describing how the creation of the birthing banks had given womankind the ability to control its fertilization without relying on the male of the species for genetic material; how men had used this detail of human biology for centuries to oppress the female; how, with the biological link between the sexes broken, relations between men and women quickly degraded into open warfare.
Those were the Dick and Jane Wars. Roku had studied it all in Hatchette training. The real history, though, not the propaganda bullshit the Matron's peddled straight from the Commissariat.
The Janes eventually won their struggle, driving the last of the male species off the planet. They still existed, of course: the men, on other planets in the solar system – colonies and moon bases and so on. But on Earth, for a hundred years, the Dicks had been banished. It had been the birth of the Great Society.
Freedom for all Janes. The end of male oppression. But the Dicks had not taken their defeat lightly. No, banished from paradise, they became more determined than ever to return from the cold blackness of space and retake their place, once again, as the self-appointed masters of the Earth.
All that stood between womankind and a return to subjugation was the collective will of all women – the collective will, the Commissariat...
And, of course, the Hatchettes.
The Men had many times assaulted the orbital defenses, but always they had been sent back into the blackness, defeated. Frustrated, they had turned to other methods, attempting to assault the earth from within. They sent spies. Terrorists. Male terrorists, yes, but converted. Pumped full of estrogen, breasts augmented, they came to the earth as transsexuals, able to hide amongst the Janes and move around freely.
The early spies had been easy to catch – poor imitations of women – but over the years their techniques had become more refined. The Dicks had of late succeeded in pulling off a number of high profile attacks. Attacks on government installations. The threat had begun to panic the population.
This was the genesis of the Hatchette Project – recruiting young girls into its ranks. Spies for the spies. Counter spies. Sleeper agents all over the planet, seeking out the Dicks wherever they dared show themselves. Waiting. Watching.
The bell signaled the end of the hour.
As the classroom began to clear of girls, Roku contemplated slipping quietly out, but she knew if she skirted her punishment it'd just be worse next time. Now was as good a time as any to take her lumps. The Matron had another class soon. What heights of perversion could the Matron reach in the ten minutes between classes? Roku shuddered to think.
But Roku's next class was Calisthenics, and she hated to be late for that. Calisthenics was hell, but meant the showers afterward. And showers meant the Mosh. Roku detested the idea of being late for the Mosh... but now was as good a time as any, she kept telling herself; the Matron had another class on its way.
Roku skulked up to the Matron's desk, behind which the Matron was sitting, tapping at a tablet.
“Late again, Roku?” the Matron said, not looking up from the tablet.
“Yes, Matron. I'm sorry, Matron. I fell. In the hall, and twisted-”
“You're getting to be quite a pretty girl, Roku,” the Matron interrupted. Roku clutched her folio closer to her breast. Oh, if only the Matron was a Dick... if only... Roku could pull out her burner and this would be all over...
“Yes-yes Matron,” Roku said weakly, but the Matron was right, the last year had treated Roku very well. The Hatchette genetic augmentation had packed muscle onto Roku's frame, and she was now a good five centimeters taller than she had been at seventeen. Her breasts were round and full and needed no support to stand up against her shirt. She had taken to cropping her straight black hair off at the shoulder and her pretty girlish features had started to turn womanly. Yes, she was starting to become quite a pretty girl, as the Matron said, but she had also become extremely deadly. The Matron didn't know this about Roku, though Roku ached to show her just exactly how deadly she had become...
“So many, many, pretty, naughty girls...” the Matron looked up from her tablet and smiled a lizard smile. The caked, white face makeup made her look ancient. Ancient and evil. “Three lashes,” she added, suddenly stern.
“But-” Roku began to protest, but knew she'd just make things worse. The Matron was already raising from her seat and pulling out her leather strap from a desk drawer. Roku knew the drill, she put her books down on the Matron's desk and leaned forward, pushing her firm buttocks out from under her short skirt.
“Will you be late for class again?” the Matron asked, circling the desk. She pulled Roku's skirt up and slipped a hand down the back of Roku's white, cotton panties. The Matron's hand squeezed each cheek of Roku's ass, then explored down the back of her thighs.
“No, Matron...” Roku allowed, trying to sound afraid. She was hanging on with her fingers to the edge of the Matron's desk, her head hanging down between her arms. She knew she wouldn't feel the spanking, her training had taught her to ignore pain, but she needed to sound scared – humiliated. The Matron had to get her pleasure out of this, or she might get suspicious.
The Matron pulled Roku's panties down to her ankles, dropping to her knees as she did so. She brought her face within inches of Roku's bare behind. The Matron lingered there, holding the panties down, looking up into the black hair of Roku's jane. Roku arched her back slightly and bent a little in the knees. That should give her a good look, Roku thought. Roku couldn't see, but she suspected the Matron was positively lapping at her lips, looking up into the pinkness of Roku's labia.
Roku began to feel a warmness growing inside herself... maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It was a turn-on to have that old pervert looking up and sniffing at her ass. If nothing else, it'd get her fired up for the Mosh, later.
Then the first lash came. Sharp and searing across her rump. Roku hadn't see the Matron raise to her feet. The power of the blow buckled Roku at the knees. Roku faked a whimper of pain and stayed squatted down beside the desk – all the better for the Matron's pleasure.
“Up! Get up!” the Matron ordered. A hand came down and pulled Roku up by the thigh, back into the spanking position. The second lash came, but now Roku had her knees locked. “Will you be late for class again?” the Matron asked one more time. You could almost hear the glee in her voice.
“No, no Matron! I promise,” Roku laid it on good and thick. “No more, please! I've learned my lesson, I swear!” You had to beg – that was all part of it for the Matron's. They had to know you'd do anything they wanted. Anything to put and end to the lashings.
“That's a good girl...” the Matron hissed. A hand caressed the welts on Roku's ass. It explored the firmness of her cheeks, then sneaked down between her legs. A finger slipped between the lips of Roku's jane, into her wetness. It found her clitoris and circled it. Oh, that felt good... an old, disgusting pervert the Matron might be, but who knew their way around a jane better than a old pervert? The finger dug its way deeper inside Roku, to be met with a friend and pushed hard against the vagina wall.
Oh... just when Roku thought she could cum, the fingers were quickly removed and the strap came down across Roku's buttocks with full force. Bitch! Roku, thought. The Bitch knows exactly what she was doing. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. If there had been time – no other class – the Matron would have had Roku eating out her jane just for a chance to cum. Roku would be begging for it... and she'd do it, too: Eat out that old, desiccated cunt just to have those fingers back inside her for a few more seconds....
...Just think about the Mosh, Roku told herself. The Mosh was less than an hour away...
“I hope you'll think about this the next time you dawdle before class...” the Matron said, composing herself. More students would be arriving any second, she couldn't enjoy herself violating Roku anymore.
Roku felt sorry for whatever girl made the tiniest of errors in the Matron's next class. The Matron had blatantly only whetted her appetite, and the next class was the last class of the day. The Matron would have all the time in the world to release her tensions on the next girl in need punishment. Yes, she'd be getting it good and proper from the Matron... a lot more than three lashes across the ass.
Roku pulled up her panties and picked up her books. Without a word, she headed for the door. She knew she was supposed to feel humiliated – that was what the Matron wanted to see, so Roku played the role. But she didn't feel humiliated. The Matron had actually manged to turn her on.
Maybe Roku didn't feel sorry for the next girl... maybe Roku wanted to come back after the next class and force that old bitch to make her climax? But that was no good. That was the Hatchette training talking. Roku wasn't humiliated because she couldn't be humiliated. She was a Hatchette now. She'd do whatever, fuck whoever was required to complete her mission – to maintain her cover. She was above simple humiliation – she was a weapon of the Great Society.
But she wasn't above sex. The bottom line: she'd liked it. The Matron had played with her cunt and she wanted to cum. But she couldn't do so without acting in a way that no eighteen year old girl should ever do. She'd have to swallow her pride, look like a sad puppy, and slink out of the door.
Oh well, Roku would just have to take care of herself in the Mosh. After all, that was what the Mosh was for. She'd have to run her ten kilometers; but then it'd be back to the locker room, and into the showers. And the showers meant the Mosh.
And the Mosh was positively, absolutely the best fucking thing in the world...
The Mosh
Roku was only two minutes late for Calisthenics. In the locker room, she slunk out of her uniform and underwear and pulled on her gray flannel shorts and shirt. She made it out to the edge of the school grounds before the Gym Matron had finished giving the other girls their instructions. But the laces of her running shoes were still untied, and she was squatting down tying them when the Gym Matron gave the order to go.
Roku was a hundred meters behind the last girl by the time she got going. It didn't matter. Today, it was a ten kilometer run across the low country beyond the school grounds. Roku had twice the stamina, and three times the strength of any other girl. It was more an effort not come in first than it was to not come in last. They had fifty minutes to cover ten kilometers. By the end, the other girls would be devastated, soaked in sweat and good for nothing but the Mosh, but Roku would be just warming up.
Fucking Matron, Roku thought, her mind beginning to wander as she found her stride. Now that the warmness had died down inside her, the tepid spanking and the perfunctory molestation began to anger her again. How dare she think that Roku was just something that could be played with like a toy – prey for a Matron's pent-up desires? The worst of it was that the girls were supposed to look up to the Matron's as examples: as pure females, married to the State. As high-minded martyrs who'd sacrificed their sexual needs for the betterment of all.
It was hypocritical bullshit!
The Matron's were hardly even teachers. They regurgitated the propaganda of the Commissariat like it was fact. And then to indulge their every carnal desire with the young bodies entrusted to their care. Roku again wished the Hatchettes were tasked with the clean up of the Order of Matrons – now that would be something. To have those bitches on their knees, skirts up, with their asses in the air, a leather lash in Roku's hand...
Roku was in the middle of the pack now. Other girls were beginning to lag, the sweat outlining their nipples through their shirts. Roku had to throttle herself back, resist the urge to push out ahead of the pack. Running a two minute kilometer would definitely draw attention.
The Gym Matron was less of a fool that the other Matron's. Roku almost had a soft sport for her. She was a big, butch wall of a woman, almost shaped like the images of men from the vidcasts. When Roku had been younger, and had first learned of the male threat, she had worried that the Gym Matron was actually one of those men. But Roku had seen her in the showers a number of times. No penis, nothing of the sort.
She was a normal Jane under her clothes, and she seemed less inclined than the other Matron's to think of the students as her property. She watched the girls change, yes, and Roku had met her a number of times in the Mosh, but there was nothing wrong with that – that was consensual. It was the forcing sex on young girls, that Roku despised.
Roku was at the halfway mark: a large oak tree that marked the border between St. Juliet's and the Obar Estate. If it wasn't for the Mosh, it'd hardly be worth turning around. Roku would have to be back on Estate within the hour. She had a position as a maid in the Manor, and her shift started promptly after school. The job wasn't her idea, but it was normal for the girls from the school to take part-time jobs for extra money on the nearby estates. The job had been Lt. Zee's idea. Lt. Zee was Roku's handler – her direct superior. She had ordered Roku to take a job on the Obar Estate. To keep her eyes open.
What Lt. Zee suspected, she hadn't elaborated on, but Roku had done as she had been ordered. There could only be one reason to place a Hatchette on the maid staff of the Estate – only one reason the Commissariat would need an agent on the inside: Men. Roku had worked there just over a month and found no incriminating evidence, but it was still early days. If there were Dicks in the Obar Mansion, Roku would find them. Find them and burn them out.
Passing click five, Roku began to sweat. She was all on her own now, all the other girls having fallen behind. There be no way not to return first, unless Roku faked some sort of injury, and Roku was in no mood for that. She let her feet fly underneath her – really pouring on the speed. It felt good to get an actual workout – really work her muscles. Her time wouldn't be that amazing, the Gym Matron wouldn't suspect.
She crested the low hill that was the last climb of the course, and sprint the five hundred meters back to the school. She paused before the door of the Gymnasium and let herself catch her breath. She looked down and could see her breasts clinging to her shirt through the sweat. That was a good workout, Roku thought, but she could see that her nipples were hard and erect underneath the thin gray shirt. Not good enough, Roku told herself. The run had done nothing to satisfy the fire the Matron has light inside her. She just wanted to get out of her sweaty clothes and into the showers. But where were the other girls?
“How long have you been here?” the Gym Matron said, stepping outside. She had her tablet, and was looking through her shorts pocket for her stylus. She was obviously surprised that Roku had beaten her back to the Gym.
“Just arrived,” Roku replied, pretending to be out of breath.
“That makes...” the Gym Matron said, looking at the clock on her tablet. “Thirty eight minutes...” she wrote this down.
Yeah, thirty eight minutes, Roku thought, minus the five I'd just spent there waiting. Roku pulled her sticky shirt up and off, over her head, and stepped towards the door, exposing her moist breasts.
“Good hustle, Roku,” the Gym Matron said, and slapped Roku firmly on the ass. The slap made Roku's bare breasts jiggle. Roku gave the Gym Matron a look of surprise, and the Gym Matron gave Roku a sly grin.
I guess the Matron's aren't all that different, Roku mussed. It was just the two of them standing in the afternoon air; none of the other girls were even within sight of the Gymnasium, so Roku slipped off her shorts, and walked the rest of the way into the Gym wearing nothing but her running shoes. She knew the Gym Matron would be watching her slippery, red bottom with interest. After all, she had always sort of liked the Gym Matron – the big, butch, beefy Jane...
In the locker room, Roku took off her running shoes and laid down on a bench. It was no good getting into the showers before the other girls came.
The Mosh had rules, though Roku had never really figured out why – it was a totally prohibited tradition. The Matron's constantly harped-on about the sin of sexual contact between students. That the Mosh was tolerated at all probably had more to do with reducing sex in the dormitories that anything else: let them play with their janes in the showers, and they wouldn't be playing with each other in the night. That must have been the thinking.
But there were rules and guidelines that the girls had made up for themselves: you couldn't touch anyone else's jane in the Mosh. Not with your hand, not with your mouth. That was strictly prohibited. Perhaps that meant it wasn't actually sex? Whatever... but you could grab all the tits and ass you liked, and a soapy thigh between the legs was more than welcome.
Kissing was okay – encouraged, and it was bad form not make out with anyone who wanted to make out with you – but mostly it was about rubbing your clit, and watching other girls do the same. It was one massive circle rub, with the hot showers running, and the soap all over your body, and the smell of the other girl's cum mixing in with yours...
It was bliss! Fucking bliss, and Roku had to rub her jane, just a little, laying there on the bench, even with the Mosh was just moments away. That was bad form too: taking the Mosh outside the showers or starting it before you were in the showers, but Roku didn't care. She ran a finger of her right hand down the length of her trim, curly black jane, and squeezed her left nipple with her other hand. She could cum right there and then, on the bench all alone...
Hell, Roku had run out of patience. She stood up and grabbed a towel. Might as well have a Mosh of one, she thought, heading into the showers.
She turned on the water at each shower-head as she passed, but kept moving until she was all the way at the very back of the white tiled, T-shaped shower. The steam began to build around her, and soon she no more than a meter.
She put her body under a running spigot, letting the scalding hot water wash down her front. She could feel the tension in her muscles beginning to unknit as she rubbed soap the full length of her long, porcelain white limbs. She ducked her head under the running water and let it blind her. She wet her hair and ran her soapy hands through it.
With her eyes closed, she explored the curves of her own body until her fingers came to the tips of her nipples. She pulled on them, squeezing, pinching, and let them stand out erect. She could feel her clitoris hard between her legs, and she explored down her body with her hands to find it. She pinched it between her index fingers and moved it in a slow circle. She let out a soft moan as images of the other girls danced in her mind. They were on their knees in front of Roku, lapping hungrily at Roku's jane.
A hand reached out and cupped Roku's left breast. Roku jumped in surprise. She opened her eyes, rubbed the water away with the back of her hand, and saw the blurry figure of a redhead standing in the steam beside her. It was Pelli, Roku's bunkmate in the dormitory. Roku's best – only friend.
Pelli was rake thin, pale as a sheet, with a head of long curly red hair that matched the bush of her jane. She had small breasts, almost none at all, but her nipples were large and erect. They were fully extended as Pelli leaned forward to take Roku's right breast into her mouth, fully devouring it. Her tongue made three circles, then she sucked on the nipple hungrily. Her other hand still cupped Roku's left breast, squeezing.
“Started early?” Pelli whispered after she pulled free of Roku's right nipple with a slurp. She leaned in to lock onto Roku's lips, with her tongue already pushing out of her pink, soft mouth. Roku let Pelli kiss her, letting her tongue search restlessly around in her mouth. Roku embraced the smaller girl, reaching around and cupping Pelli's petite ass. She thrust a leg between Pelli's, and lifted her up onto her thigh. As they kissed, Pelli wiggled there, rubbing her jane against the soapy slickness of Roku's leg.
Roku was dimly aware that they had company. Roku broke off the kiss and looked to see three girls showering themselves nearby, watching. That was doubly exhilarating: to be watched. The other girls were cleaning their tanned bodies as Pelli was putting love bits down the length of Roku's neck.
Her tongue licked along the length of one of Roku's collar bones, and she again began to suck lovingly on Roku's large, firm breasts. The other girls closed in, watching it all with interest. Roku's fingers were down in her jane now, rubbing frantically. Pelli began to push Roku's breasts together and lick at both nipples simultaneously, as the three girls formed a circle around her.
They were playing with their janes now, too, but still watching Pelli intently.
Surrounded by girls, with Roku up against the shower wall, Pelli dropped to her knees. Down there in the steam, Roku could see Pelli's hand slip between her own legs; but her face was now inches from Roku's masturbation. Oh, if she could just kiss me there, Roku thought, but that was against the rules. Stupid fucking rules! What point was there to them?
Roku doubled the rate of her masturbation. Pelli was watching it intently, fingering herself, Roku's jane just inches from her face – Roku wide open and inviting. The other girls tightened the circle, bringing their janes in close. Pelli looked around in excitement. All their fingers were frigging away at their clits. She let out a high pitched squeal, and Roku knew she was cumming; her fiery red cunt bouncing up and down on her own fingers.
Another girl climaxed too, and when she had finished, Pelli pulled away the girl's hand to suck on the offending fingers, hungrily. That sight was too much for Roku. The orgasm began to ripple through her body. Deep and intense, enough to buckle her knees. The other two girls were only seconds behind, and when they were all done, they offered up their fingers to Pelli, who devoured them each in turn – gleefully licking and sucking them clean.
This was why the Mosh was so fucking amazing, Roku thought, sliding down the shower wall in exhaustion, coming to rest on the slick floor – dirty little girls like Pelli. Pelli snuggled into Roku, and kissed her lips gently. The warm water washed over them as the lay there intertwined.
The other girls returned to washing their bodies at the shower-heads around them. Roku looked around at their hard, tanned asses. She looked down at Pelli in her arms, who inexplicably still had the energy to play with one of Roku's breasts.
The Mosh was absolutely, positively the best fucking thing in the world, Roku thought, kissing Pelli on the forehead, gently.
Kissing the Lily
“Are you heading back to the dorm?” Pelli asked later, back in the locker room, as she dried her hair. Life was back to normal. Outside the shower, no one discussed what happened in the Mosh. You could cum as many times as you wanted, with as many girls as you wanted, but once you left the showers – it was like it had never happened. Pelli and Roku were friends again, not lovers.
It was the end of the day. Calisthenics was Roku's last class. All the other girls would be heading back to the dormitories for dinner and to watch the vidcasts. But not Roku.
“No, I have to work,” Roku said, despondently. She was pulling on her panties.
“Quit,” Pelli said without hesitation. “What do you want to clean someone else's toilets for?” She made a good point.
“I can't,” Roku said, pulling on her shirt, “I need the money,” she lied.
Pelli shrugged. She was standing naked in front of Roku. She turned to pick up her clothes, and Roku looked longingly at her tiny, cream colored bottom. She wondered if Pelli could still taste the cum on her lips – she wanted to taste Pelli's. Roku shook herself and reached for her skirt. There was the Mosh and there was the real world. She told herself to get a grip.
“I'll see you at lights-out,” Roku said after slipping into her skirt and putting on her heels. Pelli didn't answer, she was adjusting the padded bra she always wore. You don't need to wear that, Roku almost said out loud, your tits are just perfect, she thought. But that was the Mosh talking again, not reality. Pelli didn't want Roku's opinion about her breasts.
Roku did stopped off at the dormitory just long enough to change her clothes. She took off her preposterous school uniform and slipped into her only slightly less preposterous maid's uniform.
The maid's uniform, thankfully, at least completely covered Roku's ass. It was a simple black outfit, with lace at the cuffs of the short sleeves and around the neckline. A lace petticoat and black stockings were worn underneath; and a simple, practical white cotton apron on the outside. Altogether relatively normal...
Except for the neckline. It was ridiculous. It plunged so low as to expose a great expanse of cleavage. If Roku leaned far enough forward you could easy see her bellybutton. Again, like the school uniform, the wardrobe was a mark of sexual submission; impractical except to humiliate the wearer. Separate and above their menial duties, the maids of Ober Manor were there to be ogled. Roku had to squash down the anger that built up inside her every time she put put on the uniform. She had to remember her mission – it was always about the mission.
Fearing she might miss her trolley, Roku bolted out of the dormitory as soon as she was dressed. Out through the Cloister, across the Grand Hall, and out the main doors, she was soon crunching across the gravel of the St. Juliet's long driveway.
Where the driveway met the main road was the trolley stop, and Roku wasn't a moment too early. If she missed that trolley, it'd be an hour 'til the next. It was pulling away as Roku cleared the driveway. She sprinted to catch up and leapt onto the open back. She must have been quiet the sight: sprinting in high heels and shear black stockinged legs, her full bosom almost bouncing free of her cleavage. But she caught her trolley and found a free seat, to the admiring, lusty glances of the old ladies already aboard.
Oh shit, Roku needed to pee.
She hadn't thought to do it after the Mosh, and cumming always made her need to pee. There hadn't been time in the dormitory, and it was a twenty minute ride to the gates of the Ober Manor. Oh well, she'd just have to hold it...
She crossed her legs as best she could in the uniform. She had brought her folio. She wouldn't need her tablet, but she was always supposed to remained armed. There hadn't been time to transfer her burner to a concealed holster – not that there was really anywhere under her uniform to conceal a gun. Just like there had been no time to pee. Roku was beginning to regret both decisions: Not going to the bathroom, and not hiding her gun away under her skirt. The folio looked out of place with the maid's costume.
Roku really needed to think about these things. It was the little things that made a cover, Lt. Zee always said – forgetting the little details was how you got yourself killed. Roku might be a highly trained, genetically engineered, elite Hatchette, but she was supposed to be an average, everyday eighteen year old girl. She had to think like an eighteen year old girl, not like a secret agent.
Now, she really needed to pee...
Think of something else, Roku told herself. The trolley was stopping at its next stop, letting off an old lady. She was taking her own sweet time getting down the stairs. Come on, you old bitch! Roku gritted her teeth. She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. It would be fifteen more minutes before she arrived at the Ober Mansion. Maybe she should just get off the trolley here and pee behind a bush. But then she'd have to wait an hour for the next trolley. She could just run cross the open country. Fuck, she could run faster than this damn trolley. No, that was the Hatchette training thinking again, Roku told herself. Normal girls don't just run five kilometers in heels, dressed as a maid. She'd just have to sit there and grin and bear the pressure. That's what a normal eighteen year old girl would do.
Eighteen year old girls were fucking idiots...
The Ober Wives were the oldest line marriage on the planet – that's right, think about your mission, that'll take your mind off your bladder – the first line marriage, it is said, the trail blazers. There were currently sixteen wives, ranging in age from twenty five to fifty nine, all residing at the Ober Manor. The Ober Wives were a political dynasty. All the wives held high positions within the Commissariat. Lady Erel – former First Commissar – was the oldest, but Lady Aru was universally regarded as the senior wife. She was forty one, politically ambitious, with designs on becoming the second Ober Wife to serve as First Commissar.
The mission made no sense to Roku – the Ober Wives were squeaky clean, beyond reproach. The first Ober Wives had been instrumental in the banishment of the male sex from the planet; to suggest that they were somehow involved in Dick Terrorism... well, it was just plain insane. But it wasn't Roku's place to question her orders. Lt. Zee had assigned her to take a servant's position in the Ober household, to keep her eyes open, and – should the opportunity present itself – ingratiate herself sexually with one of the Ober Wives. Did the Hatchette Command expect her to check each Ober Wife for a penis? It made no sense; no sense at all.
When the trolley finally rolled to a halt in front of the imposing steel gates of the Ober Estate, Roku wasn't worried. It was just be a quick check at security, and she could hurry up the drive, in through the servant's entrance, and she'd be in the Scullery where there was a bathroom. But the guard at the gate – clad head-to-toe in black leather, eyes hidden behind dark glasses – took her sweet time looking over Roku's identification.
She looked down at the card, up at Roku, and down at the identification again. Roku was practically dancing in pain – keeping her thighs pinned tightly together. It was a old ID, from before Roku had undergone her genetic treatments, so the picture didn't look much like her. The guard was right to give it a second look, but today of all days...
Roku just couldn't catch a break. Late for class and now late for work. But the Housekeeper wouldn't paddle Roku's behind. No, she'd just fire Roku, and then Roku would have failed in her mission. The guard finally handed back Roku's ID and triggered the lock on the small pedestrian gate. Roku didn't waste a second. She yelled an abrupt 'thank you' and scuttled off toward the Scullery. She had to run now, even in her heels, or she'd wet herself right there on the Ober's driveway.
Roku made it into the Scullery without any accidents. She pushed her Folio up onto a shelf where the maids stored their personal belongings, and turned toward the small water closet beside the doorway.
“Roku!” the Housekeeper yelled across the room. Roku's hand was reaching out for the bathroom door, she contemplated pretending she hadn't heard the Housekeeper, but before she could stop herself, she had turned. “Come with me,” the Housekeeper ordered. The Housekeeper was a gray haired, gray faced lady. She stood bolt upright like her spine was fused at the joints, in what Roku could only assume passed for dignity in her particular profession. Roku opened her mouth to protest, but the Housekeeper thrust up a stern finger. “You're late,” she scolded. “Come with me,” the Housekeeper repeated, and spun on her heels.
Fuck her, Roku said to herself, but instantly knew she was going to follow. She didn't have to remind herself about her cover. Lt. Zee had told Roku not to make any mistakes within the Ober household. That if a government agent was discovered spying on them, they would react aggressively – violently. It was doubly important that Roku do everything she was told. Roku might have been thinking: Fuck her, but the cover demanded that Roku fall in lockstep behind the Housekeeper; full bladder or no.
Perhaps the scalding would be quick, but the Housekeeper didn't lead Roku to her office. They left the Scullery, took the servant's stairs, and emerged on the third floor. Roku had never been on the third floor before.
The Ober Estate was the home of the Ober Wives, but in the month that Roku had worked there, she had never actually set eyes on any of them. The Manor was always abuzz with guests and hangers-on. It was more hotel than family home. The maid staff were kept busy tending to the needs of the politically connected guests. Only a small number of senior maids actually waited on the Ober Wives.
The third floor, Roku assumed, was the private suites of the many wives. The upper floors were for the guests, with seniority and political clout diminishing the higher you climbed, so Roku assumed the third floor was ground zero... And here she was, for the first time on the third floor...
Roku followed the Housekeeper down the immaculately decorated neoclassical corridors until they came to a group of maids lined up along one wall. There were perhaps half a dozen maids already waiting there. The Housekeeper shot her stern finger to an empty place at the end of the line where Roku was meant to take up her position. She'd be the farthest maid away from the large, ornate double doors that sat at the end of the corridor. We all must be waiting to be called inside, Roku assumed as she took her space in line.
“Ma'am-” Roku began to speak as the Housekeeper turned to leave. Surely it'd be okay if Roku went to the bathroom.
“No talking!” the Housekeeper barked at Roku. “No talking in line!” she yelled more generally to the whole group. “When Lady Aru rings, you will enter. Until then, be still!” the Housekeeper said again directly at Roku. Roku was dancing a little, trying to take the pressure off her bladder. “Be quiet and be still! You are not paid to make noise!” the Housekeeper finish, and stormed off down the hall.
They all stood there in silence, listening to the Housekeeper's footsteps recede. Ten seconds of silence turned into thirty. Thirty turned into a whole minute, and that minute turned into two. Oh, Roku began to double over in pain... Stupid fucking Housekeeper – fucking Ober Wives, Roku cursed under her breath. Oh, Roku was going to pee all over the five hundred year old Persian rug that covered the oak floor of the halfway. She really was! She just couldn't hold it anymore! Damn standing in line! Damn her cover! She had to pee. Roku looked around for relief. There was a door just a meter away. Roku stepped out of line and tried the handle.
“Hay, where are you going?” one of the other maids whispered after Roku. Roku didn't answer.
The door was mercifully open, and – oh, thank the Holy Matron! – was a bathroom. A big bathroom... A large sunken tub, more like a swimming pool, sat in the center of the room; and a shower as big as the Mosh took up a whole corner of the room.
But Roku was paying no attention to such details.
There was a toilet up against the wall to the right wall, a door just beyond it. Roku moved urgently over; she hitched up her skirt and her petticoat, and pulled down her panties; this upset the whole length of her dress, and her boobs came loose from the neckline as she squatted down. Roku didn't care, she let loose with a long, warm stream of pee before she was even seated. The pressure on her bladder gave way, and she relaxed her whole body down onto the cold seat.
She let her head bob down between her knees with relief – all the better to squeeze out every last bit inside her. She audibly groaned with pleasure as the last of the urine left her body. She left her head hanging there, hands on the floor, enjoying the peace like the calm after a storm.
Someone cleared her throat.
Roku shot up in complete horror. In the doorway – the other doorway, right beside where Roku was sitting – a woman was standing looking down at Roku. She was incredibly tall, or seemed so, standing there looking down at Roku. Roku's mouth opened and closed in terror. The woman was completely nude except for the four inch stiletto heels on her feet.
Oh God, what had Roku done?
The woman had wide, curvy hips and improbably large breasts for her tiny wasp-like waste. Every inch of her was muscle, like a professional athlete. Only her face betrayed any signs of age. She had a stunning, patrician beauty about her, with a distinct, glorious look of perfection about her features; but her eyes were not young. No, you could see they had seen many things, but the slight smirk on her wide, full lips told Roku that the woman had never, ever, quite seen anything like Roku.
There Roku sat, her panties around her knees, her legs wide open for all the world to see, her jane still wet from urination and the shoulders of her dress down so her breasts fell free from the neckline of her ridiculous uniform. It was absolutely and complete the most embarrassing thing Roku could have imagined; but as she sat there looking up at the naked woman in horror, there was only one things running though Roku's head:
Who puts on their heels before their underwear?
It must have been the Hatchette training again – that total and complete lack of ability to be humiliated – the attention to the smallest detail even when everything else was going crazy around you. But intellectually, Roku knew things couldn't be worse. To be caught in this position...
“If you're quite finished,” the nude woman said. Roku couldn't look away from her tremendous, luscious breasts. The woman didn't seem at all embarrassed – either for herself being found naked, or sympathetically for Roku. She made no motion of hide her body. Her hands remained slightly crossed across the tight expanse of her stomach. There were a few bracelets around her wrists, and her fingernails were long and painted. Oh God... A sinking feeling began to come over Roku. She scrambled frantically to pull up her underwear and climb off the toilet. She managed both and the automatic flush engaged.
“Ma'am, I'm sorry,” Roku began, but the nude woman didn't wait for Roku to stammer out an apology. She simple turned and walked back through the doorway, giving Roku a view of her perfect, upturned heart-shaped ass.
“Follow me,” she commanded, and all of Roku's fears were confirmed. The noble air, the casual authority – there was only one woman the nude could be... Suddenly Roku's brain was able to reconcile the face she had seen so many times on the vidcast and the face that looked back over her shoulder now at Roku.
It was none other than Lady Aru Ober herself.
Roku, of all places, had taken a giant wizz in the bathroom of the future – perhaps present, Roku didn't keep up with politics – First Commissar of the Planet Earth. Lt. Zee had suggested that Roku insinuate herself into the Ober family somehow, but Roku doubted she had meant exactly like this.
But Lady Aru didn't seem upset. She seemed amused, if anything. Though the door, following Lady Aru, Roku stepped in the Lady's bedroom – a vast room with vaulted ceilings, all rococo columns and gold gilt. Lady Aru walked over to a full length mirror that was standing in the center of the room and looked at her figure in it.
There was a large collection of clothes tossed absently around on the furniture. Lady Aru was obviously in the midsts of wardrobe difficulties, Roku sympathized. Lady Aru raised her arms to adjust her hair, looking in the mirror; allowing Roku took in the full extent of the Lady's stunning figure.
She was tall, over two meters in the heels, with curves and definition no forty one year old woman could rightfully expect. In an instant, Roku knew the body was the product of genetic conditioning, just like Roku's. But not for combat like Roku's. No, Lady Aru was a sculpture in flesh. Her body was her instrument of command – of authority.
Why the members of the Commissariat maintained such a high standard of beauty, Roku had never understood. But staring now at the immaculate perfection that was Lady's Aru's figure – undressed, as no one else ever saw it – Roku began to comprehend. That body was power. It spoke of absolute perfection. The voice that emerged from that body could no more speak a falsehood, than the hips could allow a gram of fat. You instantly fell in love with Lady Aru, the second you saw her, and that – Roku understood – was power.
“The camisole, I think,” Lady Aru said, snapping Roku back to reality. She gestured towards the bed. There was a light, white lace camisole among the other underwear laying in a pile. It took a moment for Roku to realize she was supposed to fetch it. Roku adjusted her cleavage in her uniform, making sure nothing untoward was hanging out, and jogged over to the side of the bed.
She picked up the fragile garment and held it out to Lady Aru; but the Lady had her arms held straight up. Roku was looking directly at the Lady's large, firm breasts. She had small nipples, centered in seas of large areolas, but the shape and cup of the breasts were perfect. They were shaped like smaller breasts, perhaps the size and shape of Roku's, but many, many cup sizes larger. They defied gravity, pointing out toward Roku.
After taking in the remarkable sight, Roku began to understand that she was supposed to dress Lady Aru... But there was no way Roku could even reach the top of Lady Aru's head, no less slip the camisole over. But there was stool beside the bed, Lady Aru – not moving her arms – kicked out with a foot and deftly pulled the stool over. Roku climbed up, and slid the delicate garment down over Lady Aru's arms, over her head, and down around her breasts.
“No...” Lady Aru said, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked at her profile from the left and the right, Roku watching every movement. Lady Aru. disliking what she saw, pulled the camisole off with a single movement and tossed it back onto the bed.
“A corset, perhaps,” the Lady pointed at a rigid contraption of black lace and strings. Roku picked it up and examined it. It was very similar to what the Matrons at school wore outside their black robes. Roku opened up the circle of the device, and Lady Aru's legs, one at a time, stepped into it.
It was a tight fit around the hips, and Roku couldn't avoid running her hands along the lengths of Lady's Aru's curves trying to get the corset into place. Her skin was milky soft, but firm to the touch. There was no reason for the corset – there wasn't an millimeter of Lady Aru's shape that could be distorted. But Roku maneuvered the garment into place and stood behind the Lady to pulled the laces tight. The corset made the Lady's tiny waist seen even smaller and the sweep of her breast even higher.
“Yes, that will do,” the Lady said, looking at herself full frontal in the mirror.
“I would like to apologize...” Roku began again, thinking the pause made for a good moment to speak.
“Stockings,” Lady Aru interrupted. She lowered herself into a chair, holding out a leg. Roku scrambled around on the bed, finding a pair of stocking near the pillows. She started towards Lady Aru, but the Lady just said: “Black,” and Roku dropped the white stocking she had picked up, and dug around for a black pair.
When she had located some, Roku walked over to Lady Aru. The Lady held out one of her stiletto shoes to Roku, sitting lazily in the arm chair. Roku fiddled with the tiny buckles that held the shoe in place, and pulled it off. She found the end of the stocking, gathered it up until she had the toe, and slipped the stocking onto Lady Aru's long, slender leg. She pushed it into place, all the way up the thigh, and let her hands linger just a moment when the job was done. Roku's fingers were a centimeter away from Lady Aru's jane and the perfectly flat, tight stomach beyond. Roku looked up to see Lady Aru playfully biting at one of her long, painted nails.
She was enjoying this, Roku realized. She hadn't been angry finding Roku on the toilet, she hadn't even been amused. The sight of Roku taking a piss must have titillated Lady Aru. Why, Roku didn't quite fathom, but what turned on the rich and powerful was anyone's guess.
As the Matron had mentioned earlier that day, Roku had turned into quite a beautiful girl. Perhaps finding a sexy young underling, breaking the rules – embarrassing herself – was just the sort of thing that fired up a powerful woman; a woman who could have anyone she wanted, anytime. Perhaps, like the Matrons, things had to be a little degrading to be any fun... And then to have Roku dress her... Yes, Roku sort of understood that. Roku would like to have Pelli dress her sometime, she thought. That would be fun. She could see how Lady Aru could get off on that: Roku's fingers touching the inside of her thighs...
Roku removed the other shoe, gathered up the second stocking, a slid that one into place. This time she was more bold and caressed around the inside of Lady Aru's thigh, as if smoothing out the top of the stocking. Lady Aru responded by opening her legs a little, giving Roku a full view of her most private place. Lady Aru had a full bush of pubic hair at the apex of her vulva, but her labia majora were shaved. The pinkness of her clitoral hood could just be seen poking though, but Roku's attention was drawn away to a small tattoo on Lady Aru's inner left thigh. It was of a small flower.
“All the wives have one,” Lady Aru volunteered, seeing where Roku was looking, “tradition dictates that anyone who sees the flower is destined to become the next Ober wife...” Lady Aru giggled like a schoolgirl and bit down on the end of her finger. “We call it 'kissing the lily'.”
A cold sweat broke out on Roku's brow. Was that an invitation? Roku looked down at the sweet deliciousness of Lady Aru's jane and very much wanted to plunge her tongue into its warmth. But was she just teasing? Was this whole thing just one giant tease? Would miss-judging that cue be – on top of everything else – the perfect ending for an absolutely humiliating day?
Roku looked between the tattoo, the separated legs, and up at Lady Aru's smiling face. There were no clues there. Wasn't it her mission to establish some sort of relationship with one of the Ober Wives? Well, the head wife – perhaps First Commissar of the Planet – had just suggested that Roku should pleasure her. You could call that mission accomplished. But how could Roku spin it if she'd got the cue wrong? There was no way to spin sticking your tongue in someone's jane – that was an action that could not be misinterpreted...
But, by the Love of the Holy Matron, Roku didn't have to make her decision. The door opened just then – one of the large double doors – and a woman in a white suit stumbled in. Literally stumbled. There was nothing to trip on, but she manged it. She almost landed face first on the carpet, but was able to right herself.
She came up talking, “I need a car for the night,” she started, but saw the compromising position Roku and Lady Aru were in and stopped. Roku instantly shot to her feet, slinking off to take up a position on the edge of the room. Lady Aru didn't move, she just lowered the leg that Roku had been holding to the floor.
“What is it now, Le-En?” Lady Aru said wearily.
The woman in the white suit – Lady Le-En – the newest Ober wife. Only twenty five. She was a pretty woman with shoulder length blond hair. She was wearing a white jacket with matching white slacks, underneath which was a powder blue halter top and a few simple items of jewelry. She screamed money, but she was drunk – stinking drunk. She stared at Roku with that penetrating gaze of incomprehension only drunks could manage.
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