Blade Rider

@SilverRose and @Player1 - a duet.


This is No Ordinary World

Reeva heard the doorbell, felt the call buzzing and watched her guest hover anxiously through the stained glass panes of the door. She turned her eye to the time and counted the minutes that were still her own. Her guest’s excitement did not phase her, it was part of their kink. They were early and so she allowed them to wait while she sipped from a wineglass, and stared into the mirror at her own body. It was nearly paid off.

The dimensions of the shape were her own design with details referencing other’s she admired. Her body was tall and fleshly - mostly organic and it trembled with the slightest movement. Her skin changed hue, not by the sun but by her mood. She has wrinkles and blemishes to suit her ideas and she shits like everyone else.

She was a sexbot, created one hundred years ago. During that first century of her life, there were the obvious battles for autonomy. Those of sex workers. Those of machines. Those of those who considered themselves somewhere in between. In the last thirty years, she was free to determine her own contracts of consent and upgrade her software as she pleased. She was a self-made woman. She loved herself and enjoyed her trade. She considered herself an artist of organisms, a sage of sensuality, a soul feeder. She spent her free time painting surrealist portraits of past lovers who had died or chosen completion. In all these years, she had not tired of living nor sought out meaning and never ones pitied or condemned those who had left. As the world around her developed, so would she, not impervious to her surroundings, but in easy harmony. She turned before the mirror to look at her ass. The dimples were easy to see through the sheer emerald kaftan and as the final seconds of her reflection faded, her gaze turned to the door.


The Call

Nick had been to see her a fair few times before. He’d enter her apartment like he wanted to give it a seeing to, move things around, knock walls down. He treated the place like owned it and would often leave clothing in various corners for her to find and fold for next time. Nick had strangely long nipples. They were like cigarette butts. He looked like someone you’d see at the entrance of an alleyway, either having emerged from, to wend his way furtively around the city, or to enter, seeking something useful in the shadows. But Reeva liked him. He was fun and had interesting gossip. He actually worked in politics as a “spad”, a special advisor, and was very generous with his earnings. He just never thought to spend any on his appearance. As a career psychopath, he’d furrowed his staggering need to fuck, into government policies that would gently fuck people’s lives with a clockwork tightening rhythm.

Whatever his horrible political persuasions were, he was nothing but charming to her. He never treated her as anything less than a person. He quickly and joyously removed her kaftan. “Well this is a beautiful dress, my wondrous bird of paradise.” Nick treated her body as if it was the most tremendously beneficial admin that needed to be tackled immediately. Without delay. And then he’d be gone like a baffling, blustering wind.

This time, he’d left a case full of documents and devices, and a sock. She’d found them after another guest had tripped over them. Out of curiosity, she had a rummage. She read through some documents, skimming through at first, then thoroughly. She decided that she didn’t like Nick very much anymore.

Rejection

Reeva put the documents down and tried to ignore them for a couple of days, but the image of the words ran through her mind. Photographic of course. She read them whenever she lost the concentration to ignore them.

It was a high leveled plan that incorporated a macro vision all the way down to a tweet. And many tweets, newspaper articles, scientific research and the endorsements of respected politicians and film studios.

Setting the table Straight,
Due to the various diversions that have lead our good people astray, we have lost the most fundamental pillar of what makes us human, the family structure and over-compensation for those who suffer the mental illness of sexual deviance and a lack of emotional discipline, the world has become a place of corruption, despair and division. It is time to set the table straight. To return to our value of love, family, order and purpose A woman, a man , a child. A holy trinity that will carry us to a new world. A new normal that is as it should have been.

The plan detailed the results of initial adult learning centers, pairing ideal candidates through ‘instinct remembering training’ that helps participants adopt nuclear family roles. Using A.I developments, the best genetic bred children would be developed for their chosen purpose. Less detailed, but constantly referred to is a place called Canaan. Reeva couldn’t discern where Canaan was. Lastly, sexbots also got a mention as a vital resource in Canaan, but it took her at least a day to figure it out, because they were referred to as, ‘non-threatening’ and “immersive…necessary catharsis.” The document also warned that adjustments should be made to ensure that they do not over-consume vital resources that they should not be prioritized for."

Reeva lifted the sock to her nose, she knew the smell well. What she had confused for an eager desire for purpose was actually the rotting seeds of hopelessness and spite.

Reeva drank another glass of wine, staring at the mirror. This time she was not reflecting on her image, but whether her new hormone treatment was the reason that she felt this unnerved, or whether she was to blame for encouraging his primal desires. Nick needed something specific, and for the first time, she felt inadequate. This was not what she was built for.

I Was Meant To Meet U

Reeva fell into a delightful standby. Her cells saw to themselves and cleaned each other while random images flickered across her dream setting. She’d been having her recurring dream of the rooftop swimming pool in which she swam around in night after night. Some nights, it had random masculine clothing floating about in the water. Sometimes, former favourites swam towards her. But tonight, someone had dropped a laser print of Nick and Reeva together in the pool and all the saturated colours separated and divided into whorls as it twisted into the depths. She swam into a drenched sock.

She jars online again to the sound of a tentative knock at the door. She lays still and ignores it as this is her personal time. Make an appointment.

KNOCKKNOCK.

“Make an appointment.”

KNOCKKNOCK.

“Make an appointment.”

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK.

“Reeva.” A man’s voice, kindly, patient, and matter-of-fact says.

She rises and sees a formal figure through the colourful frosted glass.

“Hi, I’m here on behalf of Nick Seraglio. We believe he left something here.”

She floats sleepily to the video-com and clunks some buttons. She views a very well turned out young man. Nice. With an appointment, very nice. A very well delivered specimen, even the gun in his hand is sparkling.

“Reeva, a moment of your time, please. Mr. Seraglio believes he left an item of his with you.”

“He left nothing here,” she says over the intercom. “Please leave. Make an appointment first, always,”

“Can I come in and make an appointment?” He has raised the little round mouth of his gun to the glass.

Every cell in Reeva is slapped awake now as she punches through the door to the man’s neck and drags him through a curtain of splinters, slamming him down on the floor of her beloved boudoir. She puts her knee in his spine and takes the gun from his hand.

“Fucking Canaanite,” he hisses.

“Oh no, and I’m offended why?”

Crossing the Line

A century of S&M, had Reeva well prepared to move a man’s body with ease. She decocks the gun and straddles him. She allows him to adjust and flips his body to face hers. She places her hands on his wrist and reads his pulse. Adrenaline has filled him. She secretes pheromones and he hardens.

She dips low and inhales his skin, his breathe, his hair. He is a defiant man, constantly waiting for his moment to strike. He suffered harsh rejection as a child and struggles to fit in. His tendency towards violence provides him with a sense of power he lacks.

“You’re still suppose to tell me why I should be offended.”

He tries to resist and she rubs herself against his groin.

“I’m sorry mommy…I mean… I just know you are on the list and you are all treat me the same.”
“It’s okay baby, there are just a few things I don’t know and I am hoping you can help me out.”

She releases one hand and he grabs her thigh. His hand is shaky but his grip is firm.

“I’m suppose to make you come…you must be willing to leave with the others.”

“To Canaan?” Her ass jerks as it hits against his crouch. She is moving fast, but the movements are small, controlled, focused. She can feel through his pants, through his skin, in the quickness of his breathe that the pressure is building inside of him.

“Yes, he believes that you will still be around when they leave, perhaps in the next 50 years.”

“Tell me, where is Canaan?”

He looks at her in disbelief, he is close to cum as the secrets are released. She isn’t ready for that. She sends a sharp whiff of a scent that houses his insecurities - toast. He calms down slightly. She slows and looks him dead in the eye.

“It is another planet. This one is dying.”

She lifts herself from his body.

"What? Is that it? He calls out, offended.

“My price is higher than that.” She responds as she walks away from him. He gets up, looks to his gun and his gaze returns to her back.

She turns around playfully, with a suggestive grin, “but I am sure we could come to an agreement.”

Enemies, Allies, Neither, Etc.

“Right. so…. Wait, Canaan, that sounds super Biblical.” Reeva picked up the gun curiously, as if she was considering making one for herself. “The Canaanites didn’t fair too well, from my limited knowledge. Homosexuality, prostitution, blasphemy, whatnot. In other words, they got fucked over for being fun by righteous types, am I right? Why would everyone be going to a planet named after somewhere considered so cursed?”

The man stood up slowly, adjusting himself. He’s just been made a fool of and needs to wrest back control. His balls are outraged about being ground-up by an angry sexbot.

“Reeva, you misunderstand me. Not everyone is going to Canaan. You are going to Canaan with every other miserable, morally-moribund sinner like yourself,” he says kindly.

“I’m not miserable. And I’m not going anywhere. Besides, if you say this planet is dying, where is everyone else who’s so perfect and fucking so pure gonna go?!”

“Planets are over-rated.”

“I like this one! Why not spend all your space dollar on pimping this planet up?”

“That would cost too much. This world is done. It’s cheaper to leave. A station has nearly been completed above Canaan, called The New Angels. We will literally be above you. We can go anywhere in the system and the Milky Way, do anything we want. Best of all, we get to come and visit you.” He was hoping the last part might sound seductive.

Reeva death-stares him into the wall. “So you’re saying that Canaan is going to just be a planet of fuck-holes for the elite?”

“Poetically put, but think of it more as a pleasure planet. You can have a whole planet to yourself and also make your money from us when we come down to play.”

“Come down to play?! It sounds like the wild west or a prison or a concentration camp!” Reeva is pacing agitatedly fidgeting with the gun.

“Actually, there will be a prison complex. It’ll be for our documentary film makers to visit and observe.”

Reeva absentmindedly scratches her ear with the gun and the man takes the opportunity to move forward to placate her. Reeva quickly and steadily points the gun at his face.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. What’s your name?”

“Williams. Sameer Williams.” He sort of bows.

“Well, here’s what we’re going to do, Williams Sameer Williams. First, you’re going to sit down here and not move. I’m then going to call someone. And I’m going to change my outfit. And then we’re going to find Nick.”


Half an hour or so later, after being tied to a chair with some pretty opulent scarves, Sameer was ruminating over his bladder and chaffed ball bags. Why is this outfit change taking so long and why is the shame I’m feeling so utterly exciting, he is thinking.

Then a knock at the door. Reeva emerges from a closet larger than the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom put together, in a devastating black PVC pant-suit. She opens the door to a 6’5” androgynous heaven of shiny navy skin, navy afro, and a scarlet mouth seemingly at the centre of everything like Jupiter’s red spot.

“Reeves, it’s been so long since we’ve been out,” the astounding vision says, hugging Reeva. “Where we going, peach flower?”

“On a mission, Emliss. A MISSION!”

Wherever we are in the story now

They got into the hovercraft -all of them. Sameer was silent and from the speed of his pulse, Reeva and Emliss could tell he was either about to cum or pee. He stared out of the window blankly. The hovercraft was scarred on the outside and the inside was covered with many pleasant stickers. Some glow in the dark. The most recent and brightest is a unicorn.

They drove around the penny-in-sula and listened to their favorite music. The mountain enjoyed watching them. Reeva got out and posed between the fynbos as she spoke to Earth.
Emliss was pissing as they asked Reeva for more details.

“You ready to tell me what is going on?”

“They starting a fucking sex colony in the sky.”

“Same shit, different century.”

Emliss was a man, but occassionally a woman, depending on the desires of his clients. Less concerned with luxury, he was a star on only fans and happy to satisfy the needs of less privileged orgasm seekers.

“I told you not to trust those fuckers.”

“Yes, you were right as usual, but I hoped I could seduce him out of his madnesses.”

"Yeah well, so what are you going to do now? "

“Well, I was thinking maybe he thought I would enjoy being a queen of a heaven-hell?”

“Reeva, get that shit out of your head. He does not love you.”

At the sound of those words, Reeva wept in pain

“And neither does this Sameer dude. Stop playing God.”

Reeva cried so hard that it was one of the rare occasions she considered herself ugly and then she turned her gaze directly in front of her, talking more to herself than anyone else. She didn’t look like a machine or human but an insect. A cockroach, to be specific.

“I think I must kill him.”

And she cried even more.

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“Where are we going now?” Sameer asks.

“The thing talks!” Emliss, clapping their hands like a seal. “What else can it do?”

“Unbind my hands and I’ll show you,” Sameer sneered.

“I’m sorry, Sameer,” began Reeva, shaking her head. She is sweating synthetically and profusely to clear out her system of panic. “I should’ve kept you in the detail. I just had a severe nervous breakdown that lasted seven minutes fifty four seconds.”

Emliss is stroking Sameer’s head like he’s a skittish cat in a harness.

“Sameer,” Reeva continues, wiping her face on her PVC sleeve, smearing the make up and snot-cry together in the humidity. “You’re to take us into the viper pit. You’re going to help us take aim at our unwanted pimps. Then we’re going to do something I don’t entirely know, probably something quite gross and cool, like in movies, then afterwards I’m going to use you sexually, then I’m going to have a kebab. How does that sound?”

“Like a dark bucket list,” he says. Sameer shows his tied wrists coyly and half resignedly: “If you set me free , I can help. I can see your freedom means a lot to you.”

Emliss picks him up like a baby and cradles him. “Patronising little man, isn’t he Reeves!”

Reeva joins in and gives him pretend kisses on his tummy, cooing while he struggles in outraged astonishment. A group of punks nearby look over and laugh.

“Sameer Williams,” Reeva whispers by his ear. “You are freer than you’ve ever been. You’re in the company of the world’s funnest hookers. And you are tied up with Gucci scarves. Please. You’re not imprisoned, you’re accessorised.”

Emliss places him expertly on his feet.

“Now, Sameer Williams, we’ll follow you. And I pray that whatever happens tonight…. there will be dancing.”

“Will there be dancing?” Emliss grabs her arm expectantly.

“There will be dancing,” says Sameer with a slight lip tremble as he leads the way into the night.

and then one of them screamed, “What are we waiting for?”