Chapter 16: Teacher’s Pet

A/N: Here's the new Chapter! Which also means the next four chapters are up on my for early access as well as the chance to vote on the direction of the story!

8ug8ear gets a lesson~

-x-X-x-

Scowling at the fake standing in front of her, Beatrice crosses her arms over her chest and huffs.

“Just so we’re on the same page, I know you’re playing me, poser. But I’ll accept your challenge anyways, because I’m not the type to back down. I’m more than worthy of any man, including V!”

The fake Alt blinks, and at first Bea assumes it’s her heartfelt declaration that takes the other woman aback. But then…

“Poser? That’s not a word I’ve heard in a long time. Just how old are you, anyways?”

Beatrice flushes at that, because the faker is right. Poser isn’t the kind of word anyone these days would use. But while physically she was still young, Bea was an old head at heart, and she loved to dive deep into history all the time, both of the Net and other things. Huffing some more, she turns her head away with a slight blush.

“… What else do you call someone wearing the face of a niche Netrunner from the turn of the century? You’ve got great taste, I’ll grant you that, but it’s still a bit gauche to go around as Altiera. Most people wouldn’t even know who you are, let alone that you’re masquerading as one of the underrated greats."

There’s a lengthy pause at that, long enough that she finally begins to turn to look back at the faker. However, just as she’s doing so, the entire situation suddenly flips on its head. All of the sudden, Bea isn’t standing upright with her arms crossed over her digital chest anymore. All of the sudden, she’s on her back on a bed, her arms and legs spread to each of the four corners of the bed and held in place by restraints.

She’s also ‘naked’, her eyes widening as Fake Alt suddenly straddles her in a dominatrix getup, a wicked grin on her lips as she hefts up a melting red candle over Bea’s naked ‘flesh’.

None of it is real, not truly, which is how the situation was able to so rapidly develop in this new direction with them skipping all the steps in between. That doesn’t make it feel any less real though, especially to someone like Beatrice, who has spent so much of her life on the Net.

The first droplet of red candle wax falls off the candle and strikes Bea’s ‘flesh’, causing her to cry out from the sizzling pain. It only lasts for a few seconds before doing the digital equivalent of drying, but that doesn’t stop more of the candle from drizzling down on her. Beatrice huffs and pants, shuddering as she feels herself being toyed with and played with.

That said, she’d already known this Netrunner was something special. This bitch is so far above her in their shared profession that it’s not even funny. However… to just skip all those steps spoke to a mind that was beyond human. While you COULD skip the steps you had to take in reality to get to a certain desired outcome when you were on the Net, only the absolute best could do what the Fake Alt had done just now by putting her on her back on this bed, tied up and restrained.

Most Netrunners were only human after all, and for humans, skipping along was too much of a logical leap for them to perform. For instance, when Beatrice was netrunning, she would have to act like a super spy, slowly infiltrating a data fortress like it was a real life facility, creeping through air ducts and what not in a skintight catsuit. She couldn’t just imagine herself already in the depths of the Datafort or something like that.

All in all, while Bea knew already from the Daemons and the locked tight Datafort around them that Fake Alt was dangerous, she was starting to realize that was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Mm… you say most people wouldn’t recognize me. But you recognized me. A fan then, perhaps?”

Beatrice scowls up at the fake straddling her, shivering as the candle play continues.

“Of the r-real Altiera Cunningham? Yes. A huge fan. I don’t make any secret of t-that.”

The faker hums and then nods, pulling the candle back. Then, just like that, they’re in an entirely new scenario. Beatrice finds herself still restrained, but now to a massive upright X. She’s laid back against it, her wrists and ankles locked in, as Fake Alt stands before her with a cat o’ nine tails. Anticipation builds as Bea waits for her to use it… and then it comes down on her body, causing her to cry out as she’s lashed across the stomach, and then the breasts, and then the thighs and cunt.

All the while, Fake Alt insists on continuing their conversation, despite Beatrice’s building pain… and pleasure. It’s a mixture of both, but that doesn’t make it any less distracting at the end of the day.

“You said it yourself though. I’m so niche. Barely anyone really knows me. Why wouldn’t you idolize one of the others instead? Bartmoss, maybe? Ah but no, I read your words on him. Spider Murphy than, perhaps? Or maybe even one of the current best of the bests. Nix out of the Afterlife has significant promise, for instance.”

The gall of this bitch. Beatrice didn’t know whether to be flattered or not that she’d read her words on that idiot Bartmoss. And to say someone like Nix only had ‘significant promise’… shit, this faker was sure full of herself.

The cat o’ nine tails comes down again, causing another cry to spill forth from Beatrice’s lips before she shakily forces herself to answer. She doesn’t want the fake to know how much she’s getting to her.

“Murphy is d-definitely one of the greats, yeah. And I would give a kidney to be a-able to work under someone like N-Nix. But Altiera h-had a certain… a certain je ne sais quoi that the others all lack.”

That last bit gives Fake Alt some pause as she just stares at Beatrice for a second. Then, even quicker this time, the scenario changes again. Beatrice finds herself bent over a BDSM horse, strapped down and helpless as she feels hands caress her upturned backside and the feel of a thick phallus against her slit. Looking back, she sees the faker naked now and wearing a full blown strap-on that she clearly intends to use on her.

Beatrice blushes at the sight, but also can’t help but be a little outraged on her long dead idol’s behalf.

“O-Oh c’mon… there’s no way you know what she looked like naked. You’re desecrating her memory at this point!”

Fake Alt pauses at that, looks down at her own naked form in bemusement, before huffing and just thrusting in. Bea cries out as she’s fucked from behind, even as the other Netrunner leans forward, grabbing her by the hair.

“Saying things like ‘je ne sais quoi’… you really are an old head, aren’t you? As someone who was actually there for all of that… it’s kind of cute, I guess.”

Bea shudders. While she knows this bitch isn’t the real Alt, she doesn’t think she’s actually lying. That makes her pretty damn old… not that it truly matters in this day and age. You can be old as fuck, and with the right cyberware, you can look as fresh and young as ever. Just have to replace your parts as they wear out.

Before she can respond however, the Fake Alt changes the subject.

“You know… this strap-on I’m fucking you with is a perfect replica of V’s cock.”

Her eyes widen and she blushes bright red in embarrassment at that. She’d gotten so caught up in the moment that she’d almost forgotten why she was doing all of this. Her savior. She wanted a chance with V, and now it looked like she was getting it… after a fashion. His dick was inside of her, or at least a perfect duplicate of it if this fake bitch was to be believed.

Bea finds herself moaning the more Fake Alt fucks her. She shudders as she realizes the bitch managed to soften her up perfectly. She’s tried BDSM before, but never over the net and she’s never done candle play or whip stuff. And yet, this fucking cunt had played her like a fiddle, knowing exactly what would arouse her the most, and driven her absolutely wild ahead of fucking her with a strap on.

F-Fuck, just how much did this bitch know about her? It was more than a little frightening… but also undeniably arousing. She can’t fight back the pleasure, she can’t stop herself from cumming hard as Fake Alt cybersexes the fuck out of her, and then some. It’s not like a real world orgasm… frankly, it’s better. And by the time Bea comes down from the high it provides; the whole scenario has shifted again.

All of the sudden, she’s back on her feet, dressed and standing across from the faker, almost like it never happened. It definitely did happen though; it was just that Fake Alt had skipped the clean up steps just like she’d been skipping all of the other in between steps. For a moment, Beatrice shivers in fear. She knew she was out of her league. But knowing and experiencing were two very different things.

“Hm. Alright, you’re pretty impressive.”

Bea perks up at that. Had she passed this crazy bitch’s test then? Was she ‘worthy’ of her savior now?

“Don’t get too excited. You’ve still got a long way to go before I let you meet up with my V. Until then… I have an assignment for you.”

Furrowing her brow at that, the younger netrunner crosses her arms over her chest again.

“What kind of assignment?”

Rather than answer her, Fake Alt just smiles mysteriously… and Bea finds herself abruptly ejected out of the Net, her eyes snapping open back in reality with her heart hammering in her chest.

Only now, as she sits up in her Netrunner’s Chair back in the real world, does it all come crashing down on her. Everything that had just happened… hadn’t really happened. The Net didn’t work like that, it was all still completely digital in the end. But good lord did everything feel very, very real in the moment. And… Beatrice had to admit, she’s feeling the aftereffects as well, her entire body trembling and overly sensitive in her Netrunner’s Suit.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

She’s so hyped up that the sudden knock at the door nearly makes her jump out of her skin. It DOES make her jump out of her chair, rushing over to grab her gun from it’s hiding place as she stares at the door with wide eyes and fresh horror. No one was supposed to know she was here. Wakako had set her up with this safehouse personally, and the Fixer didn’t fuck around… especially with an asset like Bea.

But before she can fully start to panic, she receives a text from, irritatingly enough, an ‘Altiera Cunningham’.

The delivery is from me. Go on, it’s safe.

The bitch has put herself in Bea’s contacts, and no amount of trying to edit the contact works on Beatrice’s end. Huffing, this time for real, Beatrice carefully approaches the door and opens it. Then, she leans around the doorframe, gun trained and ready to unload. But… there’s nobody there. Finally, she looks down at the long rectangle package left at her doorstep.

Hesitantly, she nudges it inside with her foot and closes the door again. Then, just as hesitantly, she opens the package up… only to blush at what’s inside. No sooner has she laid eyes on the long, thick, manufactured phallus that Fake Alt has sent her, then she gets another message from the bitch.

That’s also a perfect replica of V’s cock. Your assignment until further notice is to use it to train yourself to eventually take the real thing when we finally call upon you. And don’t slack now… I’ll be watching.

Hate… so much hate. And yet… Beatrice nevertheless pulls the massive dildo out of the box, her breath hitching at the heat coming off of it. It feels so real that she might think it was, if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s entirely unattached to the man it’s supposed to belong to. Probably the closest she’s going to get to the real thing until they ‘call upon her’, admittedly.

Hesitantly stripping naked out of her suit, Beatrice moves to the bedroom and lays down on the bed. Spreading her legs wide, she runs her fingers over her slit for a moment, only to find she’s already sopping wet. With that confirmed, she brings the tip of the dildo to her slit, and begins to carefully push it in, whimpering as she closes her eyes and imagines it’s V for a moment. However, before she can get more than an inch inside of her, she gets another message from Fake Alt, forcing her to open her eyes and look at it.

Oh and since you’ve been such a good girl, you should probably know the truth.

There’s an attachment to this message, and curious now, Beatrice opens it up. She’s expecting some sort of true name for the poser who had been pretending to be Altiera Cunningham, or maybe their real face at least.

What she gets instead is proof. Proof that shocks her to her core, proof that freezes her in place with progressively widening eyes as her jaw drops open.

There was no way… and yet, the proof was in the pudding, as they used to say. It was the original draft for Altiera Cunningham’s magnum opus… the Soulkiller Program. No one had this. No one COULD have this. It was the sort of thing that had only existed in Alt’s head. It was also the sort of thing that couldn’t be faked, not in a million years. Not to a super fan like Beatrice.

But that meant… that meant that was the real Alt Cunningham. That meant the greatest Netrunner of the early Twenty-First Century was still alive. That meant she’d just been put through the ringer in multiple ways by her greatest idol. Oh. God.

-x-X-x-

“Arasaka-sama will see you now.”

It’s the kind of thing that one might hear from a receptionist after being made to wait an hour or two as a show of dominance. In this case however, that’s not what happens. Goro rises from the crouching position he’d taken in the shadowy hiding place on the roof and nods to his peer. Sandayu Oda, Hanako Arasaka’s personal bodyguard, just narrows his eyes in response, making it clear he’s keeping an eye on Goro.

“Come.”

As they descend from the rooftop down the stairwell, Goro’s nerves have never been higher. Arranging this meeting with the Princess of Arasaka had taken a lot of favors and a lot of work, especially to make sure it was arranged without the knowledge of her brother… and her father’s killer. But finally, here he was. Sandayu had been a massive help in that regard, even if the other man clearly thought less of Goro for failing to protect his Master.

That was alright though, Goro thought less of himself as well. Still, he would consider whether it was right to take his own life for his failure in protecting Saburo-sama only once he’d avenged his Master’s death. And that meant seeing Yorinobu brought to justice for his crime of patricide.

Finally, they come to a door. The door opens… and there, sitting inside, is Hanako Arasaka, the Princess of the Arasaka Corporation. She looks no older than her twenties, though Goro is well aware that she’s nearly eighty, and in fact older than him. He bows low at the waist after taking only a single step inside.

“Arasaka-sama.”

“Takemura.”

The reception is frosty, but Goro expected nothing less. All he can do is present his evidence and hope that Hanako Arasaka believes him. Otherwise… he doesn’t know what he’ll do next.

[X] Switch to Hanako's POV - 88%

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