Who is Online

We have 35 guests and no members online

Chapter 12 - Code Wallah

 

In her detached mind, Margery watched Mohandas' reactions with the attention of an anaesthetist. She was working on one hormone after another. Earlier it had been testosterone, dopamine and oxytocins. Soon in fear his adrenaline would redline, then Kat would relent and begin the cycle anew. Over the coming weeks Kat would subject him to a number of her games to addict him to his own hormones; and a couple of little extras from Margery's 'kitchen'. He would experience this growing addiction as passionate, irrational love for 'His Kat'.

Mohandas had briefly blacked out. When he came to his senses Kat was standing over him, hands on hips. Her foot came up to his mouth.

"Now lick!" she demanded.

His mind was in a strange haze and wasn't sure if it was out of fear or a desire to please but he did as he was told.

As his stubby tongue began cleaning the bottom of her shoe Margery was delighted. As he licked, her Kat alter-ego directed him to be more diligent: here or there.

When she was satisfied Kat changed feet and Mohandas began on the second sole without questioning. It was evidence that his dopamine was at work in his system.

***

Margery, again imagining herself watching this performance from a camera eye view, couldn't wait to tell Bianca about the new shoe cleaning wallah. But how to introduce her to the revelation?  Perhaps she could take Bianca shoe shopping next and then casually offer his services?  Perhaps she'll present Bianca with a pretty little box containing a data cube?

Thanks to the almost invisible haptic recording patches stuck to her skin around her body, in particular the sensors on her feet, the poignant scene ending when Kat pushed her heel down on his scrotum has been recorded as it happened. The experience will be even more delicious after she enhances the raw data - amplifying the tactile sensations and the sound - his screams - perhaps on top of the full-bodied, thumping resonances of The Mikado from his sound system.

But not just yet; not until Bianca was Kat's, then hers, too.

***

"Stop licking!" Kat told her latest conquest.

As his reward she walked over to his entertainment system and touched the screen again. Earlier he'd been keen to show her how to use it and delighted in her interest.

Music filled the workroom. His state-of-the-art sound drivers replicated those original sound pressure waves as if a real orchestra was actually in the room. It was the overture to The Mikado.

Kat had also been to her bag and was pulling on surgical gloves and carrying a tube of lubricant. As the music began, she knelt between his knees, her knees on top of his pants, pinning his legs apart, and took his genitals in her hands.

"Look at me," she demanded over the music as she began, "You see, I'm not old at all. I'm the most desirable woman you will ever have."

In her dark stockings and high heels, she was no longer a Bunny but a dominatrix, ready to punish him for misdeeds or to reward him for being good, his mistress.

As the music played, he squirmed to her expert medical manipulations in a most satisfactory way. She knew her way around a man's body as well as an old-time urologist. More dopamine; nor-epinephrine; and adrenaline were being secreted as she worked.

"The overture's about to end," she warned him at last, "You need to be quick now... that's it... good boy!" 

From now on he would forever associate that music with this experience.

She was walking around again, talking to him in a matter-of-fact way, like a doctor, pulling off the gloves, as if what had just happened was a normal everyday occurrence, like drying her hands. He would not have been surprised if she'd given him a diagnosis: 'enlarged prostate'. Instead, she was talking about his challenge. Something about her had changed. She was less sexy, more like a school mistress.

"Tomorrow I want you to be up at six to begin work on Mikado," Margery told him. "I'll give you until six in the evening to prove that you are up to it; or I'll find someone else to be my code wallah."

He was taken aback. Code Wallah!  The racist bitch.

He'd thought the coding challenge was some sort of test of his worthiness, like a challenging game of chess, now she was talking as if developing her idea, for her Mikado game, was central to their relationship. She seemed like a different person. He needed to reorientate. Wasn't this simply two new acquaintances getting together as friends and lovers in the hope of an ongoing relationship; or at least of a few hours of lusty fun?  Yet this woman was talking as if this was a business proposition in which he was to be her unpaid employee:  'Or she'll find someone else?'

"To help you get a feeling for my game I want you to play the music from The Mikado as you work. I'll be expecting real progress. I'll take a copy of everything home and check your work tomorrow night. Remember this is just between me and you: Our little secret. Under no circumstances are you to save anything to The Cloud or to any machine outside this apartment."

Did this horribly changed, and frankly racist bitch, think she could command him to write code for her like an unpaid employee?  He was indignant and it probably showed. She'd stopped talking and was standing over him again. Her whole demeanour was different. She'd noticed the change in his expression and body language.

"Why are you still lying there like that you pervert?  You're a nasty little deviant! All you needed to get you off was a look up my skirt and my hand up inside you. Now you're just pathetic, lying on the floor like that, with your dirty pants around your ankles and your filthy secretions all over you. Go and have a shower and wash it off. You're disgusting."

He heard the scorn in her voice. She'd called an Indian prince a 'wallah'. She'd called him 'pathetic' and 'disgusting'. And recalling what she'd done he felt totally debased.  Again, the adrenaline surged through his body as his anger rose.

She'd calmly used him, like milking an animal, and then told him that if he didn't work as her developer she'd get someone else. This wasn't a love affair or even a lust affair. She sounded as if she didn't even like him. It was obvious that all she really wanted was for him to build Mikado, for free. And he'd licked the filthy soles of her shoes. He'd been totally abused but he was dammed if he would be used.

With his rage growing like a fire, at Kat and at himself, for letting this all that happen, he untangled his pants and pulled them up. They were filthy and crumpled. Now very stiff, he stumbled to his feet. She let out a little shriek of amused contempt as he staggered and almost fell. It made him angrier still.

As he reached his bathroom, he pulled off his shoes, socks and all; tore off his pants, destroying the fly; and slammed into his shower. There was no way that he was going to work on her stupid game. Get someone else. He would throw her out in the street as soon as he could get dressed and restore some self-respect. He wailed in angry self-shame like an animal. He was on the verge of tears.

***

After five minutes neatly folding her skirt and blouse and happily collecting her little cameras, Margery skipped out of her shoes and silently followed Mohandas in her stocking feet.

Now it was Kat who listened for his shower then tip-toed into his bedroom and stood with her back to the wall beside his bathroom door. When he came out she grabbed him playfully from behind.

Mohandas wanted to shake free but Kat was really strong. Then he felt her cool breasts against his warm back. Her firm nipples suggested that she was aroused. Her arms enfolded him and her hands began caressing his naked body. He relaxed. She felt and smelt like a different person: without her shoes: not so tall; softer; more loving; and definitely sexually aroused.

"I'm sorry to have hurt you like that and made you lick my shoes my love. I was terrible to you," she confessed sorrowfully in his ear. "Can you ever forgive me for losing my temper?  But you'd been a very naughty boy. You shouldn't have insulted me.  I'm very sensitive about my age and by comparing me to an ugly old spinster you really hurt my feelings. Can we please go back to where we were this morning and put all this behind us?"

With that he realised that the last hour was an aberration and all his fault. No woman likes to be insulted, particularly about being older than she is. His eyes closed in ecstasy and he moaned happily as she kissed his neck and upturned mouth; and held him in her loving embrace. He was so grateful to be forgiven for his insults and then for his shameful behaviour during the past hour, because that's all it had been, when he'd been so fearful, servile and contemptible. His body was suffused with love for her as his hormones adjusted.

"Now, to show you how sorry I am, I have a little present for you," she whispered in his ear.

But Kat's gift was not what he expected. She popped a capsule into his open mouth. Like a dog at the vet's his first reaction was to spit it out but he couldn't, her hand was firmly on his chin holding his jaw shut. Her other hand was stroking his throat. But he was holding it firmly behind his teeth with his tongue. Again, with this new shock the adrenaline had taken hold. So, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back. Even without her shoes she was taller. Her face was over his. Now his mouth was held open by the hand on his chin. Before he could push it out, she'd stuck her tongue into his mouth and was thrusting his capsule down his gullet. He was choking on their combined saliva. He swallowed it. Yet she continued to wrap her tongue around his.

Margery had wanted to test this new recipe for its effect on a man for some time. It was a new compound of sildenafil and psilocybin, the active ingredients in Viagra and magic mushrooms, that she'd ground together. They would make a nice cocktail with all those natural hormones that Kat had made him release during his initial training session.

Mohandas had never been kissed for so long or so erotically and he was ecstatic. The hormonal roller coaster was delivering another dose of excitement. They were on his bed. Had they tumbled or was he pushed over the waterfall?  Now they lay on their sides, with Kat still embracing him from behind, on his bed.  His mind was drifting. Kat felt warm against his back. The abrasive feel of her garter belt and stockings against his nakedness, as her legs wrapped around his, was extraordinary to him. Her arms seemed to be multiplying, like those of Parvathi, her many hands playing across the front of his body. He was becoming astonishingly erect, almost painfully so.

Without really understanding what was happening Kat had climbed over him and was using him for sex. She seemed to enjoy herself enormously in what seemed to be an endless orgasm. His mind was drifting and he'd lost track of time.

***

Later Mohandas found himself sitting with his Kat on his favourite sofa in his living room. He was still a little confused, was this a dream?  So, he was surprised that they were both completely naked.

"What about a cup of coffee?" Kat suggested. At which he leapt up and rushed into his kitchen where Margery had already admired his large state-of-the-art espresso machine. He soon returned carrying a tray. He was at this moment Kat's naked butler. She smiled approvingly, enjoying his subservience, and a little turned on, then tapped the seat next to her. As he sat-down her hand pulled his thigh towards hers; her knee pressing against his. This wasn't a dream! The whole thing came rushing back.

"Tomorrow evening we can do it all again or try some variations on this evening's games that you'll enjoy even more," Kat whispered across the rim of her cup suggestively.

He wasn't sure which part she wanted to repeat but he realised he didn't mind, even the pain or licking her shoes. This had been the best night of his life and she was promising to do it again tomorrow. Of course, he would spend a day working on her project.

After his earlier exertions, Kat suggested that Mohandas get his quilt and lie down here on the sofa with his head in her lap. He was warm beneath his feathery quilt and Kat's intimate smell from the sex was wonderful. The music was again playing softly in the background as Kat bent over him in a motherly way and gently stroked his forehead and face to its rhythm, softly talking to him, perhaps singing about a wandering minstrel he, he couldn't quite remember, until he went to sleep.

***

He was just a boy really. As his mind had drifted, she'd enchanted him and embedded a 'spell' in his subconscious to secure his future obedience. Given their actual age difference he could be her son. A sudden wave of grief for what might have been swept over Margery. Then her heart hardened against the world again. Someone had to pay for all that.

She got up; showered; dressed; and left invisibly, using his widget. From this night forth Mohandas would submit to Kat again and again, becoming increasingly addicted to his own hormones until he begged for her abuse - her 'gimp'. He would be Margery's too, to work on her project for as long as she needed him.

Of course, Margery had no intention of checking his work. In fact, she had no idea what all those symbols meant. She could barely read normal text. She had tried her usual strategy of sounding out the letters to no avail. It must be another language altogether.

Next week Mohandas would call in sick as instructed and continue his work on Mikado.  To preserve her privacy, she would fly here after dark, so it would be well after six when she came to check on his progress. She'd said that he was to work six to six because it was important that he waited for her each night on tenterhooks, in uncertainty and anticipation.

With the help of Circe, her VPA, she'd checked out an on-line source that had recommended a specific requirement for a management console in which all constants could be seen and altered if necessary. She'd made a list of the essential variables that she'd need to change: the name and version of the App; the publisher and copyright details; token values; links to related resources like maps; dates. She'd left him a sheet of specifications, which she'd printed out with the aid of Circe, on his desk. She would add to them and revise them as the project developed. She anticipated that getting Mikado market ready could take some weeks. So, on Monday he would need to call in sick again.  But he didn't know that yet.

 

 

No comments

Travel

Berlin

 

 

 

I'm a bit daunted writing about Berlin.  

Somehow I'm happy to put down a couple of paragraphs about many other cities and towns I've visited but there are some that seem too complicated for a quick 'off the cuff' summary.  Sydney of course, my present home town, and past home towns like New York and London.  I know just too much about them for a glib first impression.

Although I've never lived there I've visited Berlin on several occasions for periods of up to a couple of weeks.  I also have family there and have been introduced to their circle of friends.

So I decided that I can't really sum Berlin up, any more that I can sum up London or New York, so instead I should pick some aspects of uniqueness to highlight. 

Read more: Berlin

Fiction, Recollections & News

The Writer

 

 

The fellow sitting beside me slammed his book closed and sat looking pensive. 

The bus was approaching Cremorne junction.  I like the M30.  It starts where I get on so I’m assured of a seat and it goes all the way to Sydenham in the inner West, past Sydney University.  Part of the trip is particularly scenic, approaching and crossing the Harbour Bridge.  We’d be in The City soon.

My fellow passenger sat there just staring blankly into space.  I was intrigued.   So I asked what he had been reading that evoked such deep thought.  He smiled broadly, aroused from his reverie.  “Oh it’s just Inferno the latest Dan Brown,” he said.   

Read more: The Writer

Opinions and Philosophy

Death

 

 

Death is one of the great themes of existence that interests almost everyone but about which many people avoid discussion.  It is also discussed in my essay to my children: The Meaning of Life on this website; written more than ten years ago; where I touch on personal issues not included below; such as risk taking and the option of suicide.

Read more: Death

Terms of Use

Terms of Use                                                                    Copyright