“Goodness gracious!” Catherine exclaimed, “Couldn’t you find anything more revealing?...!”
Her crotch felt sodden and heavy and the blush she’d carefully been damping since her arrival became a glowing beacon.
Never in her active sexual career had such a head of tension escalated for so long up to an event;
For three days, as the bristling negotiations around the cyber-sex had pressed on, Catherine had sought sanity and release from the madness of it through private means. When that hadn’t worked, she’d turned on Jacky.
“What is it with you, girl?” Jacky had sighed between wracking orgasms, “...you’re insatiable.”
Each idle moment had been an opportunity not to be missed; driving became a hazard as she weaved through the traffic, guiding the car with one hand and reckless abandon.
“It’s not exactly standard IBM peripherals, Cath. Anton did the best with what was available,” Ken defended the creation.
Anton was a programmer first, an integration engineer second, and an amateur model builder as a distant third. He had constructed the entire mechanism from spare parts, some bought through online pornography catalogues.
Catherine blushed her deepest scarlet at the mention of his name; the way he looked at her, she was positive that Anton had figured out for whom he had been constructing the suit for.
The contrivance termed ‘a suit’ was nothing more than a connected tangle of webbing straps and attachments that had little in common with anything vaguely garment-like.
Ken was trying to act calm and appear suave; a ham-fisted attempt to convey an impression of, “all in a day’s work.”
He would have done much better, Catherine thought, to drop the bravado act and immerse himself into the novel thrill, which it really was for both of them.
“Champagne?” he offered Catherine a glass.
The surface of the honey liquor a’tremble; a loyal transmitter of the hand that held it out to her.
“Thanks,” Catherine took it with no greater steadiness.
Ken’s tactless toast to the Roman Emperor, infamous for his orgies, brought images of the Coliseum rushing back into Catherine’s mind.
For some reason, alien to her knowledge, she shuddered with the familiarity of the thought and a chill ran up her spine.
Like two cats circling each other, neither wanting to make the first challenge, they drew out the moment, skirting the business at hand;
“This is weird,” Catherine thought, unable to decide whether she was enjoying or loathing the prolonged buildup. Ken’s frayed nerves were making him drone tediously as he explained the technicalities of the program.
The delicate precipice of stimulation threatened to crumble under the load of his dreary waffling. Aware of his awkward approach, he was desperately scrambling, seeking to take charge of his own mouth and the situation.
With the vehement intensity of two magnetic like-poles, a hidden hand invisibly held them at arms length and neither could breach the wall of the other’s intimate space, both acutely aware that the situation could be sustained no longer.
Unable to withstand the tension, Catherine drained the dregs from her glass and took the initiative, alcohol had become her kind assistant dulling the keen edge off of her inhibitions;
“The show must go on!” She almost gagged on the cliché that spilled from her mouth.
She took Ken’s hand and gave it a squeeze, making his Adams apple turn a somersault and his complexion turned instantly pale, his voice equally insipid;
“Let the ga... games begin,” he croaked and had to clear his throat mid-way through the tired and overworked line.
Intending to distract her mind off of what lay ahead, Catherine had purposefully worked late that evening. Once home, she had taken a long warm bath and only with a will of steel did she resist the urge to relieve the aching sexual tension that incessantly nagged at her.
She had taken her time soaking and douching herself, wanting to be meticulously fresh when the time for being exposed would inevitably come.
Her drive to the LifeGames premises had been an indistinguishable blur, all the excitement of her fighter jet simulation had seemed insignificant to the heart pounding that spurted adrenalin into the tiniest capillary of her being.
Now, the time to make ready was upon Catherine and her heart was a leaden anchor pounding out her ecstatic agony.
They were two strangers about to partake in the most pre-meditated act of sexual exposure possible.
“What the hell am I doing?” Catherine’s mind cried out, cartwheeling in opposition to her shaking fingers as they fumbled for endless seconds to unfasten each button on her crisp white blouse.
The silk garment fell away, exposing a heaving rib-cage topped by two lace-cupped protuberances of breathtaking magnificence, “Errr, must I take this off too?” she stammered, any hint of voice control eluding her.
“Afraid so,” Ken was suffering the same vocal malady.
Her bra slipped off but the flesh that it retained stood proudly erect with turgid nipples, moist from the sweat of anticipation. With his peripheral vision, Ken ogled Catherine’s first exposure of naked flesh as her skirt fell to the floor and she stepped out of it.
He could hardly bare the sight as she peeled away the silken, moistened G-string. He tried to cling to his casual manner, failing dismally, fumbling with the body strap that he was preparing.
The scene had become all that his control could handle as he moved cautiously to avoid displaying his achingly engorged manhood. His erectile dysfunction had become his greatest frustration in life; once so strong and virile it had become almost impossible for him to achieve without stimulants or perversity.
His vision hopped with each thump of his heart; it felt like he should sit before he fell down in a faint; but time ran out on him;
“Ready!” Catherine’s voice was clear and confident.
Deciding to quit the deadly serious pangs, she had taken charge of herself and let her inhibitions fly from her.
She was stark naked, her hands held skyward and her back arched in the pose of a female gymnast. Nuzzling from a neatly trimmed pubic tuft was a slightly protruding flange. Ken gulped audibly at the vision.
Catherine first knelt, then lay back with legs splayed as Ken fitted the equipment; It was a necessary procedure that they both pretended to endure, yet secretly each found to be an aching stimulation.
“What a way to get to know each other!” Ken croaked, his voice breaking up as he spoke.
With all the wiring, pipes, bags and paraphernalia plugged in and ready to go, she stood alongside the contraption that would play midwife to her coming fantasy.
Ken dared for a second to gorge on every minute detail presented to him, but it made him all thumbs as he struggled to adhere the Time Dilation plaster onto her skin;
“Th... the worst is over,” he tried with dismal capacity to make small talk.
Catherine stepped into the harness that clasped into a girdle that would fit snug up under her; forming as it did a modern chastity belt for a kinky new age.
“No need for lubrication here...!” Ken exclaimed as he brought the phallic focus of the contraption into contact with her.
The seating of the thick and knobbed implement was an explosive sensation that made Catherine wince as it nuzzled to her G-spot, strumming her hair-trigger sensitivity. With two fingers she adjusted the mini-phallus hinged onto the larger one inside of her. Identifying the blood-engorged bead of flesh that she sought, she engaged the small stimulator into contact with her throbbing delight.
“All ready?” Ken’s voice was husky.
“Yes,” she sighed her answer, the contraptions had settled delightfully into position.
Minutes later she was rigged onto the same gyroscope that she’d watched play host to the war game weeks before.
The affixed nipple stimulators began a gentle and insistent tug of suction.
Ken had said there were too many skin-contact straps for the nano-impregnated smock to provide feedback; she’d have to remain in the buff—it was something she hadn’t anticipated. Instead of the smock, monitors on her temples and sternum would wirelessly feed the computer data back and forth. Ken would use the remote control tablet to stay close at hand, to monitor the event.
With her helmet on, Catherine became the helpless and blind victim of Ken’s voyeurism as he circled beyond her synthesized world and Ken prepared for the show of a lifetime.