Brainmail: Voltage Rips through Her, and She Screams into My Throat, Convulsing Savagely
Warren Ellis speaks clever:
For Deadly Doll, who likes a bit of the clunk:
Her lips are red chrome, the colour of sports cars. She makes tuned engine sounds as my hand touches her throat. Her lips part. Something sparks behind her sharp teeth, illuminating her mouth in flickering fluorescent white. My hand closes around her throat as I slowly lick her tongue. She looks into my eyes, and I’m close enough to hear the quiet purr of lenses turning, close enough to see her blue corneas spin. My tongue unfolds and bifurcates, exposing the port. I feel the tip of her tongue slide back to deploy the connection spike. She flicks her tongue against mine, teasing my port with near-connections, striking tiny sparks off it, running the tip of the spike around the locking ring. I apply small, ruthless pressure to her cold throat and she groans into my mouth, docking her tongue into mine with a hard thrust.
My other hand is on her hip, detecting the voltage rising in her bones. I slide my hand around and spank her once, hard, making her jerk into me. She arches her back, pulling my head forward. I spank her again, harder, and the port in the base of her spine irises open. She claws at my thighs with serrated nails. The connection studs in my fingertips start to rise. I take a moment’s revenge by letting them strike their own sparks off her spinal port. She shudders and claws harder at the tops of my legs, making the skin scramble back away from the control surfaces. Her nails pass over the exposed touchpads, and my eyelids fly open. Her eyes Bluetooth into mine, beaming trigger imagery into my system, trying to take control of me. I release transmission gel and slip a finger into her spinal port. She growls like a tiger. Our hips grind together.
I’m in her system. I can see her spine flexing like a jewelled snake. I set a flurry of impulses up it and watch it begin to writhe deliciously. I slide between the silver gel-packs of her muscles, finding the electrical feeds that make them flex, and set off contractions between her shoulder blades, along her stomach, down across the arches of her feet, holding her there in immobilised tension. Her nervous system lights up like a city at night. From my thousand vantage points between her undulating plastic muscles, I caress nerve clusters until they spangle in the dark of her perfect body. I send radio through the docks, whispering into her mind, telling her that I’m using my lips on a thousand different places and that she can’t fight it.
Her fingers have descended into my legs now, scrabbling at the nodes in my thighbones and making my legs stiffen and jerk. But her hands are shaking. I have her now, and she knows it. I run the palms of a million hands down the cilia of her lungs, withholding her breath for a few seconds at a time. She pants, desperate, and every move she makes sets off another cascade of wild electricity. She wraps her hands around my chill thigh bones and pulls me into her violently. I take a terminal grip on the base of her spine and drive her pelvis into the hard, smooth resistance of my seamless plastic crotch. Receptors erupt from her white petroleum skin, black and rubbery. I tighten my grip on her, stealing her air, brushing my lips against her pulsing heart, hanging there in its bed of straps and wires.
Voltage rips through her, and she screams into my throat, convulsing savagely.
(c) Warren Ellis 2003 All Rights Reserved