My Coach Swears by It (a BPC Story)

Another bonus quickie (less quick than some), for paying subscribers and someday ebook readers! This one comes after part 2 of the main BPC series.

(Note, this story takes place in a chastity dystopia, where the government exerts a great deal of control over character's sex lives. However, the characters generally choose and enjoy what sexual interactions they take part in. All characters are over the age of 18.)

Also, this one definitely gets a don't-try-this-at-home warning. The BPC universe has future tech. In our universe, there's no such thing as a self-sterilizing needle. Don't share needles, don't inject anything without a doctor's instructions, even the legal and generally innocuous stuff the characters use here. Be safe out there with your real-world play <3

***

“Can you explain the ‘right to be wrong’ principle, trainee?” Officer Deacon quizzed Kristen, first thing after breakfast, as they walked together toward the visitor section.

Kristen answered quickly and clearly.

“The ‘right to be wrong’ means that a subject can manage their points however they want, within the letter of the law,” she said. “As Bureau staff, we can offer advice, but we do not waste our time repeating it, or otherwise attempting to impose whatever we believe to be in the subject’s best interests.”

Officer Deacon nodded. “Very good. I just read the first name on our waiting list and had an overwhelming urge to refresh you on that concept,” she said dryly. “Curious.”

She opened the door to the waiting room and stood back for Kristen to call out the next name.

Kristen consulted her tablet and called out, “Chet?”

The man who responded must have been close to seven feet tall, and at least three times Kristen’s size by volume, most of it muscle. She tried to picture herself wrapping her arms around his shoulders and doubted she’d be able to touch her fingers together behind his back.

A dimple on one cheek softened the hard edge of his jaw when he smiled in reply to his name.

He slung what looked like a gym bag over his shoulder and followed Kristen and Officer Deacon to the assigned visitor room like they were marching in a parade.

Kristen took her seat at the table and motioned Chet to the one across from her.

As usual, Officer Deacon took the observer’s seat at her side.

“So, Chet, what brings you in today?” Kristen asked.

“Just the usual, please,” he answered, more to Officer Deacon than to her.

“My trainee is conducting this session,” Officer Deacon corrected. “Please address her directly.”

“Oh, for sure,” Chet adjusted, shifting in his seat to face Kristen a little better. “So, uh, do you know how to do a Dragon Preserver?”

Kristen glanced briefly at Officer Deacon, whose face was stony.

“Just a moment,” said Kristen, bringing up the training database. “I can find that out for you.”

“It’s kind of a custom procedure,” Chet warned her, just before her search turned up its empty page of results. “I mean, I didn’t invent it. Lots of people do it, actually. I’m sure you’ll get it added to your library with some update eventually. But so far….”

“So far nothing,” Kristen confirmed.

“Yeah.” Chet looked to Officer Deacon. “You’re sure you can’t just… Or maybe you could explain to her how…?”

Kristen laced her fingers together on the table. “Why don’t you just describe what it is you want me to do to you?”

Chet blew out a whistle of air, then crossed one ankle up onto his other knee, settling in.

“Um. Well. You know how men have, like, this one reservoir of lifeforce inside us?” Chet began haltingly. “And we tap into it as a power source for, well, basically everything we do, but especially the physical stuff. And, obviously, having… you know, having sex is like punching a hole in the bottom of the reservoir and just letting it all pour out.”

Kristen stole another glance over at Officer Deacon, who flexed her hand like she wanted to toss it in the air in despair, before running it nonchalantly through her hair.

“That’s why we’re not supposed to have sex during a season,” Chet finished.

“I… see,” said Kristen. “And what exactly counts as sex, for lifeforce purposes?”

“Any kind where we ejaculate,” said Chet. “That’s how we lose the fight inside us. You get it, right? It’s like how the Bureau works. You guys take the human sex drive and redirect it into productive behavior. I mean, you’re a girl, so you’re smarter, and you’ve got those higher instincts in the mix and stuff, so the Bureau’s probably just one little part of the reason why you do whatever you do. With guys, though, backed up sexual essence is, like, the only reason we’ve ever been able to do anything useful in all of time. We—”

“Is your device malfunctioning?” Kristen asked, not remotely interested in hearing about her supposed higher nature, or how inconsequential her own chastity must be to her because of it.

A particularly angry pulse of claustrophobic arousal tingled through her pussy.

“Huh?” Chet answered. “Uh, no, it’s working fine, as far as I know.”

“You realize you don’t need to come into the office for help with not cumming, right?” asked Kristen.

“Oh, ha, yeah,” Chet chuckled politely.

“Are you here to cheat on your whole no sex thing?” asked Kristen.

“Never!” Chet responded instantly. “I’m saving everything I’ve got for the field for ten more weeks.”

“So, you want to be touched, but not allowed to cum?” Kristen guessed again.

“Kind of,” said Chet, “But the thing is, I also need to be able to run without worrying about my balls being tender. And, ma’am, they’re pretty darn tender right now.”

“So, we’re talking about some kind of low-pleasure draining,” said Kristen. “We have several options for that. Maybe I’d know it by a different name?”

Chet shook his head. “No, like I said, I can’t let the stuff drain out of me. Doesn’t matter if it’s fast or slow or how it feels coming out.”

Kristen blinked, took a breath, and somehow convinced herself not to yell in this man’s face about how simple her requests would be, if she were sitting on his side of the table.

“You want your balls drained, without draining your balls,” she summed up flatly.

“I brought my own equipment!” Chet said, in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring tone.

He reached down into his gym bag.

Kristen blinked blankly at the object he placed on the table between them.

It looked like a model of a snarling dragon made from welded- and soldered-together industrial parts, with four clawed feet and a many-hinged serpentine body. Its red and gold painted scales were beginning to flake. Arranged around its neck, like a frill, was a ring of multicolored cylinders of liquid.

In search of something to say about it, Kristen settled on, “Private ownership of pleasure implements is a fineable offense.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what this little guy is,” said Chet. “My coach and a bunch of experts developed him as, like, a meditation aid, to help players connect with our natural dragon power.”

“Your coach is also pursuing approval to earn points by distributing these to the public, I believe?” said Officer Deacon, with the same bone dryness that had permeated most of her words this morning.

“That’s right,” Chet said brightly. “Like I said, I’m sure you’ll have them on your menu before long. But for now, we’ve got mine. All you have to do is unlock my cage, watch me until it looks like I’m about to cum, and then put him on me.”

“Put him on you,” Kristen repeated.

“On my cock,” Chet clarified. “And then tap this button.”

He pushed his phone across the table.

An app built from a stock template filled the screen. The button Chet indicated was labeled, “Accept the dragon’s judgment.”

“Don’t worry,” said Chet. “He won’t give me anything you could call pleasure. Nothing beyond what I’ll be doing with my hand.”

“Is it going to bite you or something?” Kristen asked.

“That’s up to him,” said Chet. “He might punish me if he thinks I need it. But if I do a good job of dropping into a trance and opening myself to the experience, he’ll awaken the dragon power of indefinite conservation within me.”

Kristen had the uncomfortable urge to pat Chet on the head. Instead, she leaned forward, giving him a good view down her tunic.

“I can punish you if I think you need it,” she suggested, smiling. “All sorts of different ways.”

“No doubt, ma’am,” said Chet, unperturbed. “But you said it yourself. You can only drain my balls or leave them full. Only the power of the dragon can allow me to reabsorb that lifeforce into my body and soul, to use for my team.”

Kristen pouted out her lower lip, to no avail.

“Dragons produce unlimited fire, you know,” Chet went on fervently. “But they never release it until they have a reason. They could hold it forever if they had to, and it wouldn’t even bother them. And then if they did need to use it, it would still be just as strong. They’re everything we should be.”

“Uh… huh,” said Kristen. “Just let me get… something.”

Without needing a signal, Officer Deacon followed Kristen and opened one of the storage wall panels, so that they could stand slightly behind it together.

Surrounded by rows of dildos and disinfectant, Kristen whispered, “Is that thing safe?”

“We checked it thoroughly the first time he brought it in,” said Officer Deacon. “It’s a self-sanitizing Russian Roulette-style dispenser for a bunch of harmless drugs. When you push the button, it might or might not nip him a little. If it does, it’ll give him a dose of something. Maybe just saline. Maybe a mild anesthetic. The nastiest thing in there is capsaicin, which’ll make it feel like his dick’s on fire for a little while. Nothing permanently damaging.”

Kristen shuddered a little. “Is he even qualified to ask for something like that? I mean, the guy thinks that toy is actually magic.”

“He has the points, there’s no rule against what he’s asking for, and it doesn’t involve the intimate use of your body, or anyone else’s who hasn’t volunteered,” Officer Deacon explained evenly. “Which means, yes, we have to give it to him. If you’re not ready, I can take this oneappointment, but if you stay with us, you’re going to need to be able to handle the unusual cases.”

“I can handle the unusual cases!” Kristen protested. “I…” she nodded, gathering up her resolve. “I got this.”

She started back toward the table, ready to make her mentor proud.

Chet was busy petting the mechanical dragon and making soft kissy noises.

“So, that’ll be a cage unlocking with unlimited strokes for, what, five minutes? Ten? Fifteen?” Kristen asked, tapping her way through her tablet menus, all business.

“Ten should do it,” said Chet, looking quite pleased to be moving forward.

“No vibration, sheaths, probes, lube, other external assistance?”

“Nah, I’ve got the leadup handled,” said Chet, flexing his right hand and chuckling to himself. “You two just be ready for the ending.”

Kristen was quite sure he meant her and the dragon, rather than her and Officer Deacon.

“Remove your clothes,” Kristen instructed, entering his order on the tablet.

Chet stripped down easily. Everything he was wearing was held on with elastic.

His proportions looked even more improbable naked than clothed. Below the neck, he could almost have been one of those anonymous piles of muscle people photoshopped other men’s faces onto as a joke, not someone who actually existed. His contours were a little smoother, though, covered with a thin layer of fat that made him look a bit more like a plausible member of the human species.

Kristen tapped her card to the reader on his chastity device, and Officer Deacon discreetly added her approval on her tablet. A hefty number of points subtracted themselves from Chet’s total, leaving it only slightly less obscenely high than before.

The cage over his cock popped free of its base, and Kristen eased it off and set it on the table.

“Ten minutes starts… now,” she said, tapping the button on her screen.

Chet dove in like a sprinter off the starting blocks, grabbing himself and jerking the still-flaccid flesh so hard and fast that Kristen winced in sympathy for it, but the man clearly knew what he liked. Within twenty seconds, he had a solid erection going.

Kristen spent a few moments trying to discern whether it was really as small as it looked, or whether that was an illusion cast by the size of his hands, and the rest of him in general.

In the end, she set the question aside as unimportant.

The important question was whether she could do the poor guy a favor and make him cum properly before she locked him back up.

Chet’s right to be wrong meant that she couldn’t say no to his whole magic dragon indefinite conservation thing, or try to talkhim out of it.

But there were other ways she might influence him to reconsider.

It was obvious Officer Deacon wished she could help him. She’d probably be extra impressed if Kristen managed to do so without actually breaking any rules.

“You do know that the details of what you spend your points on here are confidential, right?” Kristen asked sweetly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chet answered, polite but without a shred of interest in the implications of this.

She reached for her next angle of approach, and the pulsing frustration inside her offered itself up readily as a guide.

“I don’t think you realize how jealous I am of you right now,” she said.

Chet didn’t seem to have anything to say about that, so Kristen made it a real question, the kind a subject was required to answer.

“Do you?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t think I do.”

“Look at yourself,” said Kristen. “Unlocked. Naked. Touching yourself just the way you want, as much as you want.”

“You don’t have the points for your own session?” Chet guessed, still jerking the hell out of himself.

“It’s not about points,” said Kristen. “I’m not allowed any of that. It’s part of my training.”

“Oh,” said Chet. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” said Kristen. “Well, I guess I’m technically allowed to get naked. As much as I can.”

With that, she stood up and pulled off her little white tunic, showing off her chastity belt and pleasure-proof pasties underneath.

Officer Deacon watched, expressionless but unblinking, and scooted her chair a little farther from the table, to give Kristen more room for whatever she was about to do.

“God, I wish I could join you right now,” Kristen said to Chet, running her hands down from her neck, over her free-hanging breasts, down to the steel plate over her pussy. “You don’t mind if I just make believe, do you?”

“…No?” Chet answered.

Kristen sat naked on the edge of the table and stroked her available skin, teasing the already oversensitive nerves of her neck, her sternum, the uncovered parts of her breasts. She rubbed uselessly at her pasties, tickled her way down her own ribs, and dug her fingernails under the hopelessly tight, strong chains of her device.

She moaned, first performatively, then more honestly than she was quite prepared for, as her body reacted with fierce, unjustified hope.

Moisture dripped down onto the grate under her vagina, and no doubt through it, onto the table. She put her hands on the domed plate blocking her clit and rubbed its surface, just the way she would have rubbed herself if she could, and tried to imagine the plate wasn’t there. For the first time in a long while, she put her attention deliberately on her clit’s existence, its excitement. She was practically on the edge just from this, and she let herself moan and sigh from the feeling the way she would have if it were leading somewhere.

Then she tilted her head back and to the side, and glanced at Chet.

“I’d do almost anything right now, just to be involvedin a good, strong orgasm,” she said. “Even if it wasn’t mine.”

“Uh, seems like you’ve picked the right line of work, then,” said Chet, with a maddeningly straightforward lack of suggestiveness.

Kristen scanned the room, her own body, Officer Deacon’s, and Chet’s, searching for anything at all that might entice him.

He wasn’t paying as much attention to her as the other subjects had so far. Most of the time, his eyes were closed or lowered, focused on his task. It didn’t even seem like he was blocking out her presence on purpose to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

She wondered for a moment if she wasn’t his type, if maybe one of the guys or the more mature women would have better luck with him.

But she didn’t seem to be turning him off, either. He smiled up at her occasionally, like she was one piece of pleasing entertainment among many in a busy room.

It just didn’t happen very often.

Not half as often as he stole sly glances at that cobbled-together dragon.

Kristen sighed and gathered the dragon up in her hands.

Finding this guy’s buttons didn’t take a genius.

Just a lunatic.

“I’m not…” Chet protested vaguely. “I’m not quite ready yet….”

“Take your time,” said Kristen. “We’re just getting acquainted.”

Chet watched her warily as she picked up his phone as well. His hand quickened, and she saw an extra drip of precum moisten his way.

“So, how does this whole thing work?” she asked, lying back on the table, holding the dragon above her. “Is he bonded to just you?”

“I wish,” said Chet. “But you can’t tie down a dragon.”

“So, if I put him right… here,” Kristen set the thing on her naked abdomen, right above the edge of her device, “and I really, really focus on him, do you think he’ll help me?”

Kristen couldn’t completely hide the shallow shakiness of her breath as she thought about those vials around its neck, and wondered how many held the burning capsaicin solution.

Chet’s eyes were locked onto her now, her and the toy, with more intensity than he’d shown toward either of them apart.

“I mean,” he hurried to answer her question, “you’re a girl, so I don’t… I’m not really sure.”

Before she could change her mind, Kristen tapped the button on the app.

The dragon clawed and slithered its way around her torso, like a dog or cat looking for the exact perfect bit of floor to curl up on. Its feet were sharp and ticklish at the same time, and it eventually settled on winding its long body tightly around one of her breasts.

The collar of vials around its neck whirred into motion. It opened its snarling mouth a little wider, baring tiny, needle-like fangs, and lunged toward her, pausing millimeters from her skin.

Kristen let out a shuddering breath, un-bracing for the entry of unknown fluids into her body.

Whoever had designed this thing, the one thing they’d gotten right was how to mess with someone.

“You have to relax,” Chet panted, still stroking himself, looking happier and more focused than at any point since he’d arrived. “You have to really believe he’s going to free your trapped lifeforce and recycle it back into you.”

Kristen took a few deep, slow breaths, trying to bring down her heartrate, but more trying to enhance Chet’s obvious enjoyment at getting to pass along his technique.

When she felt as close to relaxed as she was likely to get, she tapped the button again.

The dragon shifted its grip and lunged again. This time, it struck, sinking its little metal teeth into her other breast, just above the pastie.

Kristen screamed out loud, as a searing chemical burn seeped outward through her skin from the bite.

“Shh, it’s okay,” said Chet. “Embrace the dragon fire. It’s good for you.”

A few more little shrieks tore their way through Kristen’s throat before she could quiet them to gasps. She propped herself up on her elbows to look, expecting to see angry red splotches all over her breast, but there was no sign at all of what the dragon had done, except for a cluster of near-invisible puncture wounds from the teeth themselves.

The pain was already fading as well, leaving only a raw sensitivity not much different from her recent baseline.

“That actually looked pretty close,” said Chet. “Maybe you’re more like a man that I thought.”

“You consistently suck at complements,” Kristen panted irritably.

“Try timing it to when you’re at your most worked up,” Chet suggested.

Comforting herself that she at least knew the worst that could happen now, Kristen went for it.

She caressed her own skin again, avoiding the dragon bite as she worked her way back down from her neck to her device.

When she reached her pelvic plate, she worked it harder this time, shifting her bones back and forth inside her own skin as far as they would go, to get some kind of movement inside the device. The outer edges of the plate dug into her hip joints as usual, and she did her best to mentally edit that pressure together with the throbbing of her untouched clit.

For a moment in there somewhere, Kristen’s objective flickered. For a moment, she forgot that she was putting on a show to help this stranger under her care leave satisfied, and actually dared to wonder if she might get a shred of satisfaction for herself.

Her rational mind said that Chet was talking nonsense. But then, it was still only her first year of chastity. Who knew what might become possible when you’d been pent up long enough?

If meditating and pseudo-masturbating with an app-operated mechanical dragon on her chest could stop the endless feeling of building pressure, reset her to a fresher, less distractible state within the bounds of Bureau regulations, even if getting there didn’t feel as good as a regular orgasm, she was willing to give it a shot.

A few seconds before Kristen would have reached for the button again, Chet’s breath quickened.

“Now,” he grunted. “Give him to me now, please!”

Kristen didn’t have the chance to try to get back on task in time.

Quick as a whip, Officer Deacon grabbed the toy, set it down on Chet’s waiting erection, and tapped the button on his phone screen.

With difficulty, Kristen sat up, trying to shake off the disappointment zapping through her nervous system, and watched.

Chet gazed at the flaking paint around the dragon’s eyes and chanted low, “I am one with the dragon, my lifeforce is mine to keep, I am one with the dragon, my lifeforce is mine to keep.”

The dragon coiled its body around his cock, spun its wheel of vials, and spread its jaws.

After a few moments of suspense, it sunk its short metal teeth into the side of his shaft.

Chet gasped, and his cock bounced, with the dragon clinging to it, once, twice, three times. Then he gave a sudden, sharp moan, as if from an orgasm, but nothing came out except a slight extra trickle of clear fluid.

Kristen would have thought he was faking, except that his erection immediately began to soften, at just about the same steady pace it would have after an ejaculation.

“Thank you,” he said, first to the dragon toy, which he disentangled from his cock so he could kiss it on its snarling mouth. Then, “Thank you for your mercy, officers.”

Kristen walked him through cleaning, relocking, and the return to the waiting room in confused quiet.

“Did he really… reabsorb?” she asked Officer Deacon, once they had sent Chet on his way.

“No, he just jizzed into his own bladder,” said Officer Deacon. “He’ll piss out his precious ‘lifeforce’ through the same hole as always in an hour or so, just diluted.”

“Because of whatever drug that thing gave him?” Kristen asked.

“No, it’s something some men learn to do, if they have points to waste, and they get it into their heads that their semen is so precious that the whole universe must be out to steal it from them. Chet’s toy is probably more of a conditioned mental trigger for him.”

“Oh,” said Kristen. “Does it feel the same as an orgasm?”

“To my understanding, not quite,” said Officer Deacon. “Somewhere between a real orgasm and a ruined one, with an increased risk of urinary tract infection.”

“So… so…” Kristen stammered, more annoyed that she thought she should have been. “So, this guy had the points and the right to cum properly, but he fucked it up for no reason, and now no one, not him, not anyone, is getting any benefit out of that? What a fucking waste.”

“Superstition is a sturdy thing,” said Officer Deacon. She sighed, shook herself, and straightened out her uniform. “You gave it a good try. And he’ll be back before long, so you can try again if you feel generous. Come on. Other people are waiting for our help today.”