Belonger (An erotic novel): Part One (54 page)

“
Her performance certainly
verifies her strenuous preparatory regimen,” someone analytically
murmured.

The woman stamped forward ambitiously,
pulling the leash, fighting the natural compression of her
posterior in an attempt to liberate the sufflated bulb inside her,
but was chastened again by its expansion to a yet larger volume.
Her supervisor carefully metered the blond’s effort through by
tension on the line till she reluctantly withdrew to the middle of
the treadmill again, swallowing the plug in vexation.

“
Bring her to the highest
inclination.”

The employee lowered her head, assiduously
pounding the belt as the treadmill reared to a pitilessly steep
angle. Ione saw a wagging, side to side rhythm develop as her
thighs were called to wider alignment, and the runner hissed in
frustration, sphincter knotted helplessly around the fattened
rubber bulb.

She summoned the last of her stamina and
vaulted forward on an epic ambition to escape its governance, and
Ione found herself emotionally engaged with the full-figured blond
for her totally activated athleticism, though by now she suspected
she could have done better. Breath whistling raggedly, the employee
hurtled up the incline, desperate to loosen the leash, which was
carefully tensioned by her superior to goad this very inclination.
Ione saw the bulb expand to balk her frantic ascent to freedom,
bulging between her cheeks, and the final moments of the exercise
played out as a tortured progression of lapses. The woman’s
sphincter gaped precipitously around the bulb as her strapping
thighs and calves hammered under madly gyring ass cheeks.

“
Nuh… nuh…
nnnahhh!
” she cried and
it slid delicately into view; an oily, fist-sized volume now. Her
breasts were sweeping about wide orbits, nipples aroused to thick,
sweaty erection and her supervisor was squinting to miss no detail,
expertly tensioning the shimmying leash. Ione held her breath as
the fattened plug emerged triumphantly from her rectum, barely
suppressing a Lap-era reflex to cheer.

The blond staggered as her energy failed all
at once. The machine lowered immediately and she slid off the belt,
heaving triumphantly from her heady assault on the treadmill.

Her supervisor nodded . “You are now
certified for design testing on the leash.”

The employee smiled through a gulping effort
of resuscitation. As she walked off Ione considered the elaborately
“scientific” stimulation of her flesh that had taken place, guessed
the blond’s next exertion would be in a shower with a friend…

The group moved to another site nearby where
a shorter, fair-haired employee waited with barely suppressed
anticipation under the obligatory mask of professionalism expected
by the Gnomon’s culture.

She was installed in another large device; a
rotating basin with a seat at its center. Her feet were placed into
wide-set pedals, exposing her muscularly puckered sphincter to the
fore, and her boss produced a flexible dispenser with a nozzle at
the end. Inserting its oiled tip into her anus, he squeezed the
package to pump small, gleaming metal bearings into her rectum till
it was packed to a specified volume.

“
You will now attempt to
retain this ballast on the centrifuge.” He seated himself on a
stool, sliding up to the raised lip of the platform.

“
Begin.”

The employee closed her eyes and pedaled. To
her amusement Ione saw this had the effect of rotating the whole
platform, and the woman was soon giddily whirling about. Ione
stepped past a glow gnome to obtain a more intimate view, impressed
by the fanciful precision of the experiment.

As the woman pumped harder, the bearings in
her rectum began to challenge her grip, abetted by the steadily
escalating centrifugal force. Her hair-whipped features were
visible only as a cyclic blur, but Ione couldn’t doubt she was
exhilarated by the experience, whatever might be said about its
dignity. She watched a bearing peep into view at the employee’s
anus before she diligently swallowed it back.

Her quickening velocity made it steadily more
challenging to keep them pent, and Ione saw the woman exert herself
with a clenched determination to govern the tiny region of her
anatomy under analysis. Her sphincter gaped open to show another
glinting betrayer within, and with each rotation the muscle was
sensually widened a bit more.

“
No…” she
slurred.

With a shout of dismay the employee yielded
her first bearing, which exited to ping noisily against the raised
lip of the centrifuge, an intensely significant sound in the
understated ambience of the laboratory. The woman muttered
unhappily, put everything she had into mastering herself, a control
that held for a dox of revolutions.

Then another bead emerged from her madly
whirling form, wriggling forth to irresistibly loosen her knot. A
thin wail escaped her lips, slid to a sharp ululation as two more
bearings slipped from her treacherously dilating asshole. She
clamped it shut with manic determination to oppress a wadded
vanguard of bearings ready to quit her flesh, then made an
apparently tactical decision to release a limited quantity of them.
Her anus quaked, discharging a mass of glittering, oil-spitting
ballast to tinkle cacophonously about the centrifuge well.

“
Ha!” she exclaimed,
snubbing their exodus.

Her sphincter muscled shut and she pedaled
furiously, granting no further respite to her clamped exit. The
group around her had grown to encompass most of the lab employees,
and Ione heard their evaluative murmuring when the pinging racket
of her previous lapse subsided.

The woman checked any further expulsions for
a brief interval as she approached the maximum velocity likely to
develop, and Ione felt the periodic warmth of her chuffing
exhalations as she cranked away.

“
Unnnnhh…”

Her superior leaned in, eyes locked on the
altitude of her twirling noose, and Ione was helplessly drawn to
the esoteric accuracy of the experience, the humiliatingly personal
metric it yielded.

“
I’ve got them! I’ve got
them!” the woman unselfconsciously reassured herself, lost in a
secret, impossibly hurried reality. Her voice multiplied on
whooping, radial echoes as she audaciously promoted her
experiment.

“
Yes! I’ve got them!
Yes!”

It all held together for a brief, breathless
term, then a bearing peeped, widened her anus with luxurious
unhaste, and spat forth to ring on the metal perimeter of the
machine. A moment later another assayed this sensational hegira,
then they were coming regularly as she flailed madly on the pedals,
all consideration centered on her fatiguing sphincter.

The noise was deafening, a discordant
metallic thrash that simplified to a cheerful, tripleted
articulation as the employee held on as long as possible, fighting
each freedom-bound bauble, graded by her superior on the final
compromise of speed and endurance she made.

Ione was a little in awe of her unflinching
determination, savored the other woman’s struggle, prolonged
instant by instant till the inevitable end.

A last bearing charged her exit, was
clutched, kissed and loosed to a noisy result. Then the exercise
was over.

The woman slowly spun down,
offered a slack-lipped, exhausted grin to the audience; an
ironically appropriate expression Ione decided. The boss informed
his employee that she was now certified on the centrifuge, and it
struck Ione that this protocol offered a potentially crucial means
of calibration in a regime where performance data for toys could
not be reliably recorded. No one knew exactly what had been
measured as far as she could tell, but they
had
found a way to gauge relative
relationships between flesh and machine.

“
Our final engagement
requires a more personal interface,” the supervisor explained for
everyone’s benefit. Ione had no idea what this might entail and
simply followed the crowd to a huge machine ringed by glow
gnomes.

Another woman was seated there, an
intense-looking brunette poised with her feet in wide-spread
pedals. But this time her superior positioned himself before her on
a sliding seat that put their genitals in close proximity. Ione saw
that he had developed an erection, and his deftly oiled penis
pointed forth with what seemed to her more than strictly objective
interest. He settled his right hand on a shift lever of some kind
and eased his member to the cusped indentation of her
sphincter.

“
This is the most sensitive
apparatus of discovery we presently possess. It is called an
analyzer,” he mentioned to Ione.

He entered his employee and she accepted his
competently engorged cockhead without complaint, shifting a little
to settle her anus comfortably about it.

“
Begin,” he said.

The woman blinked submissively, forced to
regard her superior face to face. Ione wondered whether decorum
allowed her to close her eyes, but the man’s fixed expression
seemed to suggest otherwise.

The pedals were connected by a geared
transmission to a heavy flywheel behind her, which began to
ponderously revolve as she cranked. Ione could estimate its mass
through the stressed definition of her muscular legs, struggling to
impart angular momentum. She could see why the boss was taking a
more active role in this test—whatever his uninflected demeanor
said, the osculating grip of his employee’s limber little butthole
had to feel exquisite on any cockflesh fortunate enough to be
trapped in its embrace.

“
Accelerate.”

She did so, revving the stately bulk of the
flywheel behind her till it was reluctantly spinning at enough
speed to induce a sensual shudder in the chassis of the machine.
Ione watched her superior impose on the woman a little further,
assaying the muscular gyre of her anus with an intrinsically
calibrated instrument. She maintained this level of effort for a
little, rendering a steady effect to his pecker with which to
analyze the hidden exertions of her body.

“
We will now concentrate the
phenomenon.”

His hand moved then, and the transmission
clunked, reconfigured to a different ratio. His employee had to
pedal harder now, but the velocity of the flywheel increased
significantly in return. She bore down energetically, building
speed again till it fanned her hair with a tender current. Her
rectum—the end site of complex anatomical forces developed to a
precise specification—plied his manhood with a tightly constrained
elliptical kiss, and he withdrew a little to get its most sensitive
tract in the optimal zone of effect.

The employee was breathing hard now, shapely
limbs kicking athwart her superior’s wide shoulders. His eyes never
left her own, compelling a psychological engagement she might
otherwise have denied. Ione elbowed furtively among the assemblage
of glow gnomes stationed around them to view the affair from
different angles, trying to prioritize her various impressions of
the Gnomon’s regime—awe, confusion, arousal and alarm—wondering
which might ultimately be revealed as the most shrewd.

“
Address yourself to a new
level of difficulty,” the boss required.

The shifter moved again, and the transmission
clanged to its steepest ratio. Ione saw the brunette slow, unable
to maintain her developed velocity. She hissed, bore down on her
left leg, then the right, throwing her whole body into the exercise
as her superior calmly estimated the result on his cock, now
decorated by a lewd trickle of pussy excitation.

The woman recovered her speed by degrees, and
the flywheel sped to a new, shuddering kineticism. Her eyes were
locked on the boss with a clenched certainty of purpose, lips
parted to emit a regular blast of warm air on his chest. Her thighs
were dripping sweat, knees veering elliptically to and fro, and the
penis between her cheeks was incrementally slipping farther inside
her body, experiencing the flexuous compaction of her rectum at
various depths. Ione heard something helpless issue from the
employee, a whispered, slipperish gibber.

“
Its connection good so
lasts and make…”

Her superior ignored this, sternly exercised
her for as long as she could sustain the experiment until her
rectum slurped noisily, verifying his orgasm.

The supervisor casually shifted the
transmission back down to the lowest ratio, allowing the brunette
to gracefully decelerate, and the machine finally whirred to a
halt.

“
This analysis is finished.
We will need additional measurements to complete the calibration,
however. You may report here tomorrow for another session on the
apparatus.”

The employee did not seem displeased by
this.

The group dispersed and Ione turned to the
woman who had greeted her, standing near a workbench littered with
variations on the leash they had tested.

“
Does everyone here,
uh…
personally
‘calibrate’ the toys?”

“
No, of course not,” she
answered, to Ione’s relief. “Only those who want to understand the
actual application of their work.”

Ione blinked, realizing it would be
ridiculous by that philosophy to devise or refine sex toys without
being directly involved in their testing. She wondered how and when
this tacit requirement would intersect her own ambition.

The woman motioned her to another quarter of
the lab, where a prototype toy dwelt near a profusion of similar
adaptations. “This is the project I am presently assigned to. It’s
called a knocker.”