Three unusual report files this week..
Two thefts of long units of reinforced cables,
from the high performance computer clusters,
at both the Maritime Defence Force, and Section-6,
It is impossible to break into these places,
unless it is done by an expert,
and no-one can use these type of cables,
except in this type of computer.
The cables were 1 and 2 cm node power,
serial, and 5 cm data ribbons.
Only the longest missing,
minimum length 2 metres.
When department chiefs arrived to inspect,
the MDF commander's Lamborghini was stolen,
and the Section 6 director's Ferrari.
No evidence of any kind,except missing cables and the two cars.
At Kenbishi Heavy Industries,
the design drafting office was also broken into.
The break in is only suspected,
because the pens on the large scale robotic plotter are empty,
the reserve ink stock was used up, two technical pens,
and a 5x3 metre sheet of paper is missing.
The tightness around me,
of being bound by a lover.
Thick, strong cables.
Binding my ankles and knees,
around each thigh.
Pulling tight into my waist.
Across my shoulders and the top of my breasts.
A thick, wide flat rainbow ribbon cable between my legs,
secured to my abdomen and back beneath the other cables,
suspending me from either end fixed above.
A long serial cable around my neck,
my arms bound behind my back,
only enough freedom to pull tight the ends of the serial cable.
Only enough freedom to move my body,
to pull everything tighter against my self,
as my lover traces every line,
of a perfect pattern of hexagons on my skin.
The two of us being tattooed by a plotter,
was one of the most intense, erotically painful experiments .
We lay together on the draft surface,
and let the fifty 0.1mm needles of its pens draw.
The light jabbing sensations, all over,
and humming buzzing harmonic created by the pen motors.
It was programmed to respond to breathing heart rate and our writhing,
To tease, to change to different areas of our skin.
Sides of our abdomens, ribs, back, thighs, neck,
Around the navel, then undersides of breasts,
Then just as anticipation prepares, for the puncture of aureole and nipples,
it moves to another region of the body.
The plotter's pen arms can reach any angle,
and I set the program to ink every surface from our necks down.
I could not imagine my lovers experience,
without the direct link between our cyberbrains.
She is human, completely biological except for the brain interface.
Her instinct of self preservation,
fear of injury, blades and needles.
Her confusion as her soft skin is penetrated by the pens,
of pleasure, pain and fear, and her experience of what I feel.
My envy and curiosity of this fear,
the memories of her earlier experiences with boundaries.
Her shaking body pressed and held tight against mine,
the only security we have.
Our connected minds lost in the storm of impressions.
Our visual sense floats free in a vast spacious hexadesic grid,
surrounded by a flock of glowing cranes,
each as bright as the sun, pecking at us.
Every time some of the pens moved to my vulva,
I clenched tight my hands into her skin,
as my hips involuntarily raised.
At one point, I bit my teeth into the flesh above her collar bone,
and screamed into her body to try and control the intensity of emotions.
It is lucky we do not have deep scratches from clawing,
though this can be fun, it would ruin the art.
As she stimulated physical memory,
by tracing the pattern on my skin with two pens,
I gazed at the beautifully rainbow coloured hexagon poster on my wall,
painted by two writhing inked tattooed bodies rolling each other over.
As my hands pulled the serial cable tighter,
I slowly, ecstatically, passed out.