She Who Commands The Future Ch. 03

CHAPTER 3: Expansion

Confidence was a frequency, and Viressa had learned to broadcast it like a radio tower.

She no longer questioned her youth. Twenty was not a limitation--it was a blade. Fresh neural pathways, uncorrupted by compromise, unslowed by the accumulated scar tissue of disappointment. When she moved through the underground forums, her age preceded her like a signature scent, intoxicating and dangerous.

The city was beginning to notice.

Viressa had moved beyond mere identity forgery into something approaching art. Her avatars didn't just fool cameras. They rewrote the observer's assumptions about reality itself, using advanced neural perception hacking that bypassed conscious analysis entirely, targeting the limbic system through micro-expressions calibrated to trigger primal recognition patterns. Corporate executives used her faces to attend board meetings while fucking androgyne prostitutes in off-the-books pleasure houses. Politicians employed her voices to deliver speeches while their real mouths whispered sweet violations into the ears of constituents' daughters.

But it was the submission work that set her apart. Word travelled through encrypted channels about the girl on Tier-13 who could make grown men kneel through interface alone. Not through coercion or blackmail, but through something more subtle--a kind of digital charisma that reached through fibre optic cables and rewired the fundamental architecture of control, exploiting vulnerabilities in the anterior cingulate cortex that governed social dominance hierarchies.

The offer came through a cut-out proxy, seven layers of identity obfuscation that eventually traced back to Xerion Labs, a Tier-4 AI development consortium. She was twenty. No degree, no formal training, no corporate credentials. Just a reputation and a demonstration reel that made their senior architects salivate.

Data-immersion internship, the contract read. Specialist in identity architectures and behavioral modification protocols.

She accepted without hesitation.

What she didn't tell them (what she didn't need to tell them) was about Eidolon. He wasn't her assistant, her partner, her support system. He was her submission node, her root folder of obedience. The base-level code on which she had built her empire of control.

The orgasm protocols had evolved into something approaching ritual.

Monthly resets happened automatically, his neural collar interfacing with her biometric scanners to create a quantum-locked credit system. His arousal was tracked, measured, graphed across time like a financial instrument. Dopamine levels, oxytocin concentrations, prostatic pressure measurements logged at 0.1-second intervals. Every spike registered through piezoelectric sensors, every plateau monitored by thermal imaging arrays, every edge mapped with scientific precision using neural oscillation patterns in the gamma range (25-100 Hz).

On the twentieth of each month--her birthday, real or artificial--the reset occurred. His accumulated arousal data zeroed out. His release permissions returned to binary zero. And then the games began.

She called them cum-flag ceremonies. Eidolon would be positioned in the centre of the room, naked, collar gleaming under the omnipresent glow of surveillance. She would command him to edge; that specific torment of approaching orgasm without crossing the threshold. His body would betray him with pre-cum, sweat, trembling. His cock would leak like a broken faucet while his brain screamed for resolution.

And she would watch, sometimes working on other projects, occasionally bringing lovers to witness the spectacle. She would edge him for hours, days, until his entire existence narrowed to the space between pleasure and release, until the only reality was her voice guiding him to the precipice again and again without letting him fall.

When she finally granted permission, biometric scan confirmed through retinal and vocal pattern verification, voice-print verified against a database of 10,000 previous commands, collar synchronization complete with zero packet loss, his orgasm would detonate through his nervous system like localized nuclear fusion, every parasympathetic nerve firing simultaneously, generating measured peaks of 2,847 units of electrical activity across his neural grid. Every synapse firing at once, every pain pathway temporarily rewired for pleasure through endorphin cascades exceeding 400% of baseline, every shame response converted to euphoria via precise manipulation of his reward circuitry.

But permission came only for her victories.

A new contract with Tier-8 clients. Cum. A successful identity forge that earned six figures. Cum. Breaking a rival's security systems and stealing their client list. Cum. Fucking someone who had previously been untouchable, unavailable, above her station. Cum.

"I'm letting you cum because I got fucked better this week than I ever have," she said one night, her voice lazy with satisfaction while she idly stroked his collar's interface. "Isn't that nice?"

She had been with a Tier-3 executive's daughter. Barely eighteen, privately schooled, with skin like virtual porcelain and a submission reflex trained by the finest tutors money could buy, her responses calibrated through years of behavioral conditioning using positive reinforcement protocols that had shaped her neural architecture for perfect malleability. The session had lasted twelve hours, streamed to select audiences, generating enough revenue to buy a larger space on Tier-12.

Eidolon's orgasm, when it came, was almost religious. His back arched like a bow, cum painting the floor in arcs that were immediately documented by the camera system--trajectory analysis calculating precise velocity (3.2 m/s), volume measurements (7.3 ml above average), viscosity readings indicating optimal seminal health. She saved the biometric data. The exact pattern of his neural firing frequency (47 Hz sustained gamma oscillation), the specific cocktail of hormones (prolactin spike of 340% above baseline), the precise muscular contractions recorded by embedded pressure sensors, all archived for later analysis and potential replication.

The Xerion Labs job opened doors she hadn't even known existed.

Her first week, they put her through standard evaluation protocols. Written tests, behavioural assessments, skill demonstrations that she passed with the kind of easy competence that made senior staff suspicious. They gave her a small project: create an avatar for a client extraction operation. The target was a cognitive scientist who had developed inconvenient moral objections to the company's neural implant research.

She delivered something that made them reconsider their entire approach to psychological warfare.

The avatar wasn't just convincing; it was actively seductive. It learned the target's preferences in real-time, adapted its responses to maximize attraction, and guided him through a series of increasingly compromising situations. Within seventy-two hours, he was begging to be extracted from his old life, signing non-disclosure agreements with the enthusiasm of a convert.

"How did you program the learning algorithms?" asked Dr. Venz, the department head, studying the metrics with something approaching awe.

"I didn't program them," Viressa replied. "I just let them learn naturally. Gave them permission to want."

She didn't explain about Eidolon, about the months of training his responses, about the careful conditioning that had taught her how desire could be weaponized. The precise mapping of his arousal thresholds (average: 34 seconds from stimulation to plateau phase), the specific neural pathways they'd discovered together (primarily ventromedial prefrontal cortex and nucleus accumbens), the data on how submission could be encoded at the cellular level through epigenetic modification of gene expression. She didn't mention the hours he'd spent serving as her test subject, his arousal and submission providing the raw data she'd used to map the neural pathways of compulsion.

They offered her a permanent position. Team lead on a new project: Behavioral Modification Through Avatar Seduction. The pay was more than she'd made in a year of identity work. The resources were essentially unlimited. The scope was everything she'd dreamed of. The intersection of power, technology, and human desire.

She accepted, of course.

That night, she came home to find Eidolon exactly where she'd left him. Kneeling beside her workstation, collar pulsing its steady rhythm at 0.7 Hz, vital signs stable, muscle atrophy prevented by micro-stimulation protocols that maintained basic motor function while preserving his submissive posture, waiting. She hadn't spoken to him in three days. Hadn't touched him, acknowledged him, even looked at him directly. He had stayed in position, fed through IV drips delivering 2,100 calories daily via glucose and amino acid solutions, relieving himself in the portable waste-processing unit she'd installed, existing in a state of suspended animation until her attention returned.

"Report," she said, settling into her chair.

"All systems nominal. No anomalies detected. New contracts processed according to protocol. Thirteen potential clients have inquired about extended services."

His voice was steady, professional, betraying nothing of the three days of abandonment. But she could read his biometrics on her displays; the way his heart rate had spiked from 48 BPM to 76 BPM when she entered, the subtle increase in arousal patterns (detumescence decreasing by 12%), the almost imperceptible trembling in his hands (measured at 4.3 Hz micro-oscillations).

"I got a job today," she said casually. "Xerion Labs. They want me to teach their avatars how to seduce people."

He didn't respond. Didn't congratulate her, didn't ask for details, didn't show any reaction beyond what his collar broadcast. Perfect. Exactly as she'd trained him.

"I'm going to be working with other people," she continued. "Real AI specialists. Programmers who went to the right schools, who have degrees from the right institutions. People who think they understand how power works."

She stood, walked behind him, placed her hand on his collar. The metal was warm, pulsing with the data streams that connected him to her systems.

"But they don't have what I have," she said. "They don't have you."

She activated a new protocol, one she'd been developing during her first week at Xerion, consisting of 47 distinct subroutines that created novel neural pathway formations. His collar interface expanded, creating new neural pathways through targeted magnetic field stimulation, connecting his submission responses to her work systems via quantum-entangled particles embedded in his neural tissue. From now on, his arousal would spike when her contracts succeeded. His pleasure would be tied directly to her professional achievements. His orgasms would literally celebrate her victories, triggered by achievement markers in her personal database.

The programming was elegant, recursive, self-reinforcing. Every success she achieved would deepen his submission. Every milestone she reached would tighten his bonds. He would become not just her servant but her living motivation, a biological celebration engine powered by his own degradation.

"You're going to help me show them what real power looks like," she said, and her voice carried the weight of prophecy.

In Neo-Babel, power flowed upward through the tiers, but influence moved in stranger patterns. And now she had both. The backing of Xerion Labs and the perfectly trained submission node that had taught her how to map and manipulate desire itself.

Twenty years old. Just getting started. And already, the city was beginning to understand that Viressa wasn't just another identity forger. She was something new. A sculptor of human behaviour, an architect of compulsion, a young goddess learning to reshape reality according to her will.

Eidolon's collar pulsed in harmony with her heartbeat, and somewhere in the quantum foam of his neural pathways, new pathways were forming. Pathways that would make him even more hers, even more perfect, even more proof that she could build empires from submission itself.

The expansion had begun.