Rooted

Kate Vassar

It had taken almost two weeks of brute force attacks to find the inevitable patron with a weak password. It had taken an additional three days of scripted attacks from within to build his own privileged account. But victory was sweet (and highly caffeinated)--Logan now owned the exclusive Pendulum Club. He snatched the binaries and started a decompile on them; they'd be worth a lot of money. Maybe they'd even be worth enough to buy a new hand.

The Pendulum Club didn't allow people like him to join. They had rigorous standards of physical attractiveness--which was asinine, since it was an online venue--and charged monthly membership dues higher than his annual income. Pale, skinny guys with cheap, buggy prosthetics didn't pass their aesthetic criteria. All the more reason to use the service in addition to selling it off, as far as Logan was concerned. He loaded the simskin he'd created for the occasion--a dashing black-haired man in a tux--and entered the program.

The Pendulum Club was decorated with mirrors, potted palms, and couches and beds and cushions on the floor. Around the room were glass doors leading to private rooms. One large group hadn't bothered with a room, and were instead entangled in a sweaty, moaning group of tangled limbs.

In the shadows, behind a potted plant, there was a woman in black. She stepped into one of the private rooms and shut the door, then drew the shades. Logan considered following her, but was distracted by a leggy blonde in a sparkly blue mini-dress. "Are you new here?"

Logan smiled at her. "Logan."

"Elise," she said. "Do you like girls, Logan?"

"I... yeah." Crap. Smooth, Logan.

Elise grinned at him, impish, and knelt. She unzipped his pants, and Logan was glad this was virtual, because if this was real he'd never be able to stand through it. She leaned forward, gave his cock the lightest little lick, and then smirked up at him.

Then she started to suck him in earnest, and oh, he was making all these noises, and people were watching, but the embarrassment only made it hotter, somehow. Some guy took his dick out and started to jerk off. And Elise! So gorgeous, and she was torturing him here, and he was begging her for it, much to his shame. So good, and how had he never realized shame was hot? and then he was coming hard, moaning.

Elise stood and smirked at him. "Welcome to the Pendulum Club."

"What about..." Logan said. "I mean, you..."

"I don't get naked," Elise said. "It's not my thing. But thanks anyway." She strutted away, leaving Logan staring after her, dazed.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. It was the woman in black he'd noticed earlier. Her hair was sleek and black and straight, her eyes were dark, and she was dressed in tight black leather.

"This is my domain," she said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"As well you should. This server is mine."

Logan looked around, but no one was paying attention. "You're the sysadmin?"

She snorted. "You should go."

"You're going to throw me out in front of all these paying customers?" Logan said. "Bad for business, don't you think?"

She leaned up into his face and glared. "You should go." Then she vanished.

A tall man with a short, thin woman holding his arm came over. He stuck his hand out, and said, "Hi, I'm Jon, and this is Cynthia."

"Logan." He shook Jon's hand.

"We were looking for a third," Jon said.

Oh, there was no way. Virtual cocks were much more agreeable than the real thing, but the person connected to the VR had limits.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jon said. "Are you straight?"

"I... don't know, I've never..."

Jon grinned. "Oh, you've got to come back with us!"

"But..." Logan looked down towards his crotch.

Jon laughed. "Don't worry. The Pendulum Club has proprietary sim routines. You'll be fine."

Proprietary...? Oh, that did it. Logan was going to have to read the code when he was finished decompiling it.

They pulled him into a private room and shut the door, and undressed. Cynthia lay back on the bed, legs spread, and pointed at her crotch with a grin. He lowered his head down to her manicured vulva and started to lick. She tasted sweet, which made him wonder if that was natural or the sim. Then again, he'd never tasted a woman without a latex barrier; maybe they all tasted that way and the other sims were less accurate. Unlikely, but what did he know?

Logan heard Jon get something out of the nightstand, and then Jon's slick finger penetrated his asshole... which was shocking, but not bad. Kind of... tingly. And then Jon did something with his finger that made him moan into Cynthia's slick labia.

"Mm, yes," Cynthia said, petting his head. "Do it, honey."

Jon's finger was gone, and replaced with something thick and long. Jon's cock. He'd expected that to hurt. Instead, there were shock waves of pleasure shooting up his spine. God, so good, with Jon grunting behind him and Cynthia moaning encouragement, and he was whimpering and shoving his ass up and back and spreading his legs. Jon chuckled and picked up the pace, and then Logan was coming.

And then everything went dark and silent and sensation-less for a second.

Then it sounded like Cynthia was coming, and Jon stilled behind him a moment after. He tried to access the administrative functions, and couldn't. Access denied.

Oh, shit.

Logan collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do next. Jon and Cynthia cuddled next to him for a moment, and then they got dressed and left.

And then everything went black and silent again.

Logan woke up cold. He was lying on a hard surface with his hands and feet restrained. The room was dark and empty.

His right hand wouldn't move, but he didn't feel the rope around his right wrist, so he looked. It was his prosthetic.

He looked down at his body, and it was a reasonable facsimile of his real body, ribs and hipbones jutting out and all. The sysadmin must have hacked his simskin.

"Hello, Logan," she said.

"Are you calling the police?"

"Why would I do that?" She laughed. "You were calling attention to yourself. We can't have that, now, can we?"

"What do you want?"

"How did you get in?"

"Weak password on a user account, and a buffer overrun on the graphics library." Logan tugged at his bonds, but they held.

"I told those morons to use open source rather than that proprietary crap, but no." She rolled her eyes.

"How did you find me so quickly?"

"Elise," she said. "She's part of the new user subroutine."

Damn. Elise was virtual. "Can I go now?"

She laughed. "You should ask me nicely."

"May I please leave?"

"So, you went to all that trouble just to get a free membership?" she asked. "I'm flattered."

Logan blushed and looked away.

"Maybe you should beg me to go."

"Please," Logan whispered. He was naked, and hard, and so embarrassed.

She smirked down at him. "You've been very bad, you know. Hacking into my system, ignoring my orders to leave, getting fucked by paying guests... I think you might need to be punished."

Logan whimpered.

"Oh, you like that idea, do you?" she said. "Slut."

Logan bit his lip. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"There might be." She smirked. "Bring me the source code of Pandora's Box, and I'll let you keep your membership."

The ropes untied themselves from his wrists. "Thank you," he said.

"Kiss my feet before you leave." She held out a steel-toed black boot.

He knelt down and kissed each boot, desperately horny.

Logan scratched an itchy spot above his eyebrow. The prosthetic hand wasn't as accurate, and he had to stop what he was doing for a moment and concentrate. He took a moment to wish he could find the bank accounts of both the robber who stole his hand and the rich asshole who'd probably bought it on the black market. He'd love to leave them both without a dime.

Pandora's Box surely had users with crappy passwords. Users and bad passwords went together like macaroni and cheese, or beans and franks. It was only a matter of time before he managed to brute force one.

Speaking of macaroni and cheese...

Logan was hungry, so he left the script running and looked around the kitchen for something to eat. There were only two boxes of macaroni and "cheez" left, and payday wasn't for another week, so he made some noodles instead.

When the script managed to compromise an account he poked himself in the chin with a forkful of noodles and swore. Stupid prosthetic. He finished his noodles, loaded up his simskin, and logged into Pandora's Box.

Pandora's Box had a Victorian look to it, with elegant carpets and stiff, uncomfortable looking couches and ornate chairs, and candlelight. It was elegant, in an intimidating sort of way.

Logan ran a scripted attack on the graphics routines. Hey, it had worked once.

"Can I help you?" a woman behind him asked.

Logan turned around. She had bright red hair, and wore a black leather corset with a black vinyl miniskirt and black combat boots. "Hi," he said.

She crossed her arms at him. "I asked you a question, slut."

"I..." Holy shit, he was in trouble. He thought of the sysadmin who sent him here. "I've been bad. I need to be punished."

"Yes," the red-haired woman said. She shook her head. "Your account says that you're often a very bad boy. What are we going to do with you, Michael?"

Of course, his account. Logan pulled up Michael's account. Michael was into spankings, whippings, and being called names. He supposed it could be worse, although the whipping bit scared the shit out of him. "Just a spanking."

"Paulette, I presume?"

Logan said, "Yes," which he assumed was the right answer.

Paulette was tall and dark-haired. She wore something black and severe, kind of a stern schoolteacher look. "Oh, for shame!" she said in a thick French accent. "What have you done this time?"

Logan didn't want to tell her the truth--that he'd hacked a server--since it was too close to what he was doing here now. But he wasn't having much luck coming up with a clever lie, either. So he stuck his tongue out at Paulette and said, "I'm not telling."

"You horrible boy!" Paulette said. "Drop your pants and bend over this desk right now."

"But..."

"Right now!"

Paulette looked surprised; maybe Michael never fought back. He hung his head and slumped his shoulders, and unfastened his pants. They fell around his ankles. He sighed and bent over the desk.

Paulette came over and pulled his underwear down to his knees, which made his cock twitch. He felt vulnerable, exposed, but in a way that made him think of Jon, and what Jon had done to him at the Pendulum Club. He couldn't help but notice that he was in a very convenient position for someone to fuck him again, and he blushed.

"Are you ashamed of being such a bad boy?" Paulette asked.

Logan nodded.

The first touch of Paulette's hand on his ass was gentle. Logan closed his eyes and thought of her. The sysadmin. He didn't think she'd be gentle with him, although he supposed he could be wrong.

Paulette's hand caressed his ass, long and slow, and then there was light tapping. Logan sighed. It was kind of nice, not intimidating at all, even when the taps grew harder, became smacks.

Paulette slapped his ass, hard. Logan flinched at the loud noise. But the sensation itself wasn't bad. He wondered if it would feel different in his own body; he'd never done anything like this. Hell, it had been so long since his body had been with a woman...

Paulette started a rhythm like sex, and he found himself thinking of Jon again and thrusting his hips back to meet her hand. Shit, he was so hard. He wondered if this was going to include sex, or if he was going to have to finish at home, alone. If so, he'd need to remember to use the real hand--the prosthetic just wasn't any good.

"I think you like this," Paulette said. "I think you misbehave on purpose, just so you'll be punished."

Logan shook his head, although he imagined Michael did. Hell, he didn't blame him.

Paulette leaned over, and breathed into his ear, "I think you're lying." Which was so fucking hot that Logan had to grab the desk with both hands and close his eyes to keep from coming.

Paulette's mouth was still right up against his ear, her breath warm. "Slut."

Oh God, he was coming, and she hadn't even touched his cock. He laid his head down on the desk, and Paulette petted his hair.

"Are you going to try to be a good boy?"

He nodded, and checked the progress of the scripted attack. Pandora's Box needed to patch their graphics routines.

The floor was cold and hard beneath his knees and forehead as he knelt, arms outstretched in front of the sysadmin. In his hands he held out tingling, glowing lines of text, an offering. He heard her walking towards him, but didn't look up. The tingling went away.

"It looks like Pandora's Box taught you some manners."

He blushed.

"Look at me," she said.

She was looking down at him with her head cocked, her arms holding the source code to her chest. "I think you've earned a reward."

And then he was in his bedroom, lying on his mattress on the floor, wrapped in sticky sheets. Shit, that was just mean. He made a face, and got up to change the sheets.

Logan checked the surveillance camera at the door.

It was her. The sysadmin. She was shorter and a bit rounder, with frizzier hair and thick glasses, but it was her.

She didn't wait for him to invite her in. She walked in, shut the door behind her, and slammed him back into the wall. She tasted a little like beer. He moaned into her mouth.

She laughed, but it was a soft, gentle laugh. "Slut."

"I'll do anything you want," he said.

"Yes," she said. "I know you will."

She pulled his shirt off and tossed it over her shoulder. He reached over and tried to touch her breasts. The prosthetic spasmed and started to twitch. "Cheap, buggy piece of crap!"

"Shhh." She pulled his shaking hand over and kissed it on the palm, then kissed his wrist, where it connected. He made a noise deep in his throat at the feel of her lips and breath on his wrist.

"Does your hand have any sensation?"

He shook his head.

She put it on her hip, then picked up his other hand. She kissed his palm, then his wrist, her eyes watching his. Then she placed his real hand on her breast. "Use this one."

So he did. She was soft and warm, and her nipples hardened under his touch.

She pulled away. "Strip."

He undressed, and stood naked in front of her. She was still wearing jeans and a black shirt, and she gave him a long look up and down. He blushed.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bedroom. She tossed him back onto the mattress, and pulled off her shirt. She had a surgical scar up her right side, from hip to ribcage. He almost asked, but after the look she gave him, he didn't dare.

She pointed a boot at him, and he crawled over and kissed it. She smiled, and there was something in her eyes that scared him, but in a good way. She leaned back against the wall and pulled her boots off, then wriggled out of her jeans.

He whimpered.

She smirked at him, then pulled off her bra and underwear. She waved the underwear in front of his face. She leaned back against the wall, spread her legs, and beckoned.

He hesitated. He wanted to taste a woman, to taste her, but he didn't know anything about her medical history, or...

She stared down at him, expectant. He had said he'd do anything she wanted.

He leaned in and gave her a lick and moaned. Fuck, she was nothing like a sim, he'd never tasted anything like her. So good.

She reached down and petted his hair, and that little bit of approval was all he needed. He pressed his face between her legs, and licked until she moaned and shook above him, until he was sobbing in frustration. "Please."

She pushed him down on the mattress and rolled a condom over his cock, then grabbed his wrists and straddled him.

He moaned and thrust up against her, and she shifted her weight so her ankles rested on his thighs and started to move. He struggled against her, he begged. He wanted her to use him, to take him, to... oh, God, he was making these crazy noises, the neighbors had to know what he was...

And then he was coming, and the mattress became the cold, hard floor of her virtual space.

"You haven't been that good," she said. "Yet."

He whimpered.

"I have a business proposition for you, Logan," she said, resting her hands on his chest and leaning down. "I want to open my own virtual club. You could help keep the competition out, create new features. What do you think?"

Logan thought that it sounded like he'd be doing all the work. "What would you do?"

She looked down at the scar along her side. "I'd provide the start up money."

Fuck. This woman was hard-core. He ran a finger along her scar, and made a mental note to never, ever cross her. "I couldn't possibly go into business with someone without knowing their name." Which was a lie, of course, but true enough in the case of legal business.

"Erin," she said. "Seventy-thirty."

"For fifty percent, I'll do anything you want."

Her eyes narrowed. "Forty."

"Deal."