Milking Plans

Sexual Investigations Book II, Chapter 5

Renata's eyes opened slowly to a darkened ceiling from which intricate silver chain held a chandelier of six candles. The "candles" were clear electronic ornaments that mimicked the real thing. Badly. The Baroness would have scoffed at such lackluster craftsmanship.

Rising swiftly with the memory of her abduction, Renata gave a quiet, sharp gasp. Motion had jostled her breasts resulting in a light spurt of milk. She easily resisted the instinct to clutch her chest. That would only make things worse; the sensations simply had to be endured. She sat breathing heavily as arousal coursed through her, making her pussy slick and her body warm. Finally, through an effort, she regained a sense of calm.

Turning her attention to the chamber, Renata noted its expansive size; bigger than all of Donna's apartment. A two-level effect was created where her bed was, that quarter of the room being raised about half a meter, joined by short stairs in two places. All was encased with shining dark green panels, split by a thick band of silver at waist height. There were even cornices, finely carved from some dark stained wood. All control fixtures had been blocked by the installation of plain dark metal plates, ignorant as to how it tarnished the room's aesthetic.

Swinging her legs from under fine nano-silk sheets and off the bed, Renata stood, again fighting the urges generated by even simple motion of her chest. Dealing with them since puberty made the effort almost second nature, but she no longer had one of her special bras to ameliorate random contacts and air pressure, so a little more concentration was required.

The far wall was a titanic window. On closer inspection it proved to be composed of several high-resolution view screens. They showed night on the city surface, clusters of hovering vehicles zipping between curving or angular tall buildings, each glowing under a rainbow of lights.

Renata said, "Time?"

The room did not answer. She nodded to herself. Her captors would not allow her access to an AI, there was too great a chance she might dialectically reactivate an ethical sub-program. From her knowledge of these New Yorkers, and their traffic trends, it seemed sometime in the smaller hours. One, perhaps two. Thereabouts.

This view will be a red herring, she thought, assuming the scene was piped in from elsewhere. Renata crossed her arms, which pushed on her chest. She fought the flash of pleasure emanating from her breasts, letting out a small moan, determined to maintain the posture. Her first instinct, anger, subsided as she considered her situation. Renata found herself thinking rather too fondly of Donna and her actions. The woman's silly game had led to this far more dangerous captivity. That did not please Renata, but it was also very likely this was the work of the one Donna had so cheerfully named Darkness.

Renata's capture, therefore, had become an opportunity.

It does not speak well to our chances, however, that they have been so bold. To imprison an officer of the police was risky. To kidnap someone with Renata's connections was another thing entirely. Renata showed a lopsided smile. Mother will have chairs from their hides. Her smile vanished. On the other hand, being rescued by the Baroness will be humiliating. She sighed. That went, to a lesser degree, for even rescue by Donna. Whatever the identity of her captors, they likely understood and had prepared for this exact situation. Neither escape nor rescue would come easy.

Her efforts over the next couple hours proved as fruitless as expected. Renata's jailers had seen to the sealing of the room, leaving not even a finger-nail sized lever by which she might wedge a panel free or work on the door mechanism. By the time the sun, though not yet risen, had begun chasing away the darkness outside, she had exhausted her options. And she'd found no clothing at all, though there was a wardrobe, but only the automatic wash functioned.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the pre-dawn gloom slowly brighten. Licking her lips, she thought about Donna and her imprisonment in the woman's bedroom, being milked like a pathetic cow. Renata's body warmed as her anger rose, nostrils flaring. An intense rage easily came over her and she reached for her breasts, massaging the right gently. Sexual energy flowed, but she easily caught hold, keeping it back with the potency of her anger.

Renata nodded. She's given me at least one weapon. It was not what Renata wanted, far too divergent from what she knew her path to be, but she would remember to thank Donna if it proved to her advantage. Otherwise, naked as she was, one merely needed to breath on her nipples to reduce her to a puddle of climaxing flesh.

A sudden zipping sound drew her attention to the doors. Renata turned as they parted to allow three to enter, two men and a woman. The center-most, clearly their leader by his dress, wore a plain-looking white suit, like a uniform. His blonde hair was curly under a white hat with a black band, in a vaguely military style. His thin shape made her curious, he was among a rare few men that did not indulge in the excessive physique like so many in the city.

His escorts, however, did. Both muscular hulks wore plain white shirts and thick black pants, and looked like larger versions of people found on any corner in any District of the city. Plain almost to the point of lacking description, but excessively gene-fixed for strength. Obviously guards. They watched her with hungry gazes, quick to drink in her beauty. That may come in handy.

She stood proudly before the new arrivals, despite her nudity. As Donna had learned, Renata would never allow something as silly as being naked to get in the way of proper decorum, of having her due as a Deckholdt.

"Ah," said the leader, "my special cow is awake. And how are you my dear?"

This isn't Darkness, Renata decided. She'd heard the person speak only via that scrambled, totally-black hologram, but there had been a particular cadence and word choice, one not shared by this man. She said, "You've made a dangerous mistake in bringing me here. Release me at once."

He smiled warmly, but it did not reach his eyes. "That would not be the most profitable move. A counteroffer: cooperate with me."

Renata raised an eyebrow.

"I've been told, and I see the truth on full display before me, that you have a most impressive endowment. Matched by a prodigious bounty."

Resisting the urge to cover her breasts, Renata locked her fingers against her hips. More milking? She was growing rather tired of being treated like a cow. Not that she would ever admit as much to Donna, but there had been an arousing aspect when her partner had done it. Had Donna asked, had they planned those encounters, Renata could see herself gaining quite the pleasures from being used so. By someone she trusted, someone she liked. Renata said, "Out of the question."

Hands up in a placating gestured, the man said, "Forgive me. This is such a poor start. We can do better." Bowing low, sweeping a hand under his chest, the man said, "Let me introduce myself. I am Jordan Rettran, but you may call me the Milk Man!"

Renata snorted, then outright giggled. "You can't be serious."

Frowning, the man said, "You will need to learn respect. Very well. I have coddled you long enough." He raised his hand, snapping at the left-most escort, a man with short brown hair. He might have been attractive, but for an uncanny slackness to his face. "Rupert? Please subdue this animal and prepare her for a proper milking."

Jerking backward, Renata was keenly reminded of the jiggling and shifting of her breasts. Any physical activity entailed constant and frequent chances to have her control disrupted. Even tiny movements sent shivers of pleasure into her body, and she found herself a little too alarmed to draw on her anger. She tried anyhow, but by the time Rupert was close, she was in no condition for excessive motion. Grunting softly as aftershocks of delight wracked her body, Renata barely evaded the hand seeking her neck and slipped backward.

Jordan yelled, "Just touch her breasts!"

Rupert lunged, hands out for her chest. Renata did not shield them, as that wouldn't accomplish much. Her touch, his, anyone's, all would reduce her to mind to mush. As she fled, glad that the room was so large, a glance back revealed the man was right behind her. Damn these gene-fixed people, she thought. Even back in Bonn, as in this strange new city, everyone had a massive advantage over her in terms of strength and speed and senses. Training only went so far to counteract her natural disadvantage. Perhaps without that extreme sensitivity...

Left to work with what she had, Renata twisted when she felt his hand on her shoulder. After she broke the grasp, his hand fell. She turned away, causing her left breast to swing out. That jerky motion was enough to make her gasp, and then something swatted the nipple.

Renata's legs went out from under her. She moaned loudly, gasping for breath, as orgasmic energy totally shattered her self-control. Her mind blanked with pleasure as she panted wildly, shivering as her cunt was overwhelmed with sensation, spasming as it spurted clear fluid. Her breasts, trapped beneath her against the floor, were overstimulated in an instant, further driving her into the unknown reaches of a vast realm of pleasure. Floods of milk created an instant, ever-expanding mess of a puddle.

There were other sensations, sounds, feelings, bare impressions, but even where they added to her orgasmic pleasure, she barely noticed them.

Stuck inside her own mind, Renata lost awareness of time. At some point, however, she suddenly sensed a note of some order. A glimmer, a faint mote of conscious thought. Desperate, she seized on it, drawing the emotion into her thoughts. Anger. She was imprisoned again. Milked again. And this time not by a friend, a lover, someone who, if misguided, ultimately had her best interests at heart. She was surrounded by enemies. Drawing on the feeling, Renata pushed through, slowly regaining a sense of where she was.

Her first thoughts focused on her tits. Her nipples were being squeezed regularly, encased in clear cups designed to capture the flow of milk, which was coming fast and thick. Blinking back tears, Renata found herself chained up, thick smooth bands fixed round wrists and thighs. A kind of elaborate stall surrounded her. Tubes ran from her breasts, full of white milk, draining into a barrel fixed to the machine. Orgasmic energy raged throughout her body, which was overloaded by the power. Renata felt sad at the waste, how useless it was without proper direction. The anger held it at bay, however, keeping it from overcoming her thoughts, so she clung to the injustice of her situation.

Her station was situated near a large table holding medical devices such as nano-injectors and scanners, along with computer systems for modifying them and giving reports. Jordan, the so-called Milk Man, was there in his uniform, bent over a display.

"Boss!" said a man. Renata's eyes found Rupert standing near her enclosure. Tall, with his genetically enhanced but generic physique, he was far from unattractive, but again she noted his eyes. They hungered for her body, which did not surprise Renata, well aware of how attractive she was, but at the same time the look was blank. That gaze didn't match the energy of the word, which bore a hint of alarm.

"What is it, Rupert?" the Milk Man asked impatiently, eyes remaining with his work at the broad bench.

"New one's awake," Rupert said.

"Don't be--" Jordan cut off, sighting Renata. "Hmm. I see. How interesting."

A smile slowly grew as he stepped over to her milking station. Renata ground her teeth, drawing on her hate, allowing it to compete with the insanity of the orgasmic sensations coming from her breasts. Those milkers were far from gentle. In the absolute best kind of way, far as her body seemed to care. Renata was aware she was close to losing herself, she could feel the thrumming of her cunt as it came repeatedly, her anger not quite strong enough for full control.

Renata shivered as his hand touched her chin, then slowly traced her jaw. She clenched her teeth, bolstering her anger with disgust for this man. "You truly are a delight my dear. I've learned so much, and in so short a time. And your bounty! Considerable. You should be very proud."

Nostrils flaring, Renata couldn't summon the energy to speak. It was all she could do to remain enraged in the face of the intense stimulation of her breasts. Milk burst from her and was sucked down by the machine, the attached barrel growing ever fuller with the passing minutes. Her stomach rumbled, she'd have to eat like twelve pigs after this. Renata hoped this idiot understood that.

Jordan nodded. "Keep a close eye on her. Let me know when she is finally dry."

"Yes, boss," Rupert muttered, head bowed.

Renata glared at the Milk Man, who hummed idly as he worked. Eventually she couldn't hold on any more, anger seemed to require constant, renewed stimulation and she was no expert, used to carefully managing such feelings. Her last thought, as she drifted back into intense, orgasmic, bliss, was that she needed far more practice if this was to become effective.

She woke under the fine nano-silk bedding, feeling drained, body sore, and famished. Renata thrashed free of the covers, noting they'd been placed to leave her chest bare, and sat up, wincing at the tight feeling in her nipples. Despite being milked dry, sensations still ran just beneath the surface, as if the orgasmic energy still lurked there. Waiting. Soothing her heavy breathing, Renata climbed off the bed and, with a little more desperation, again searched her luxurious room. Again she found no means of escape.

Exclusively among the new items was a broad platter of bacon, buttered toast, syrupy waffles, and hard boiled eggs, several pounds of food in total. Despite her hunger, old habits remained. Renata ate properly though there was a lack of implements and at the end of the meal found herself wanting. As dawn broke, at least according to her wide view screen view, Jordan again entered the room, guards at his side, ready to escort her back to the milking place. In order to gain some information about her prison, Renata went peacefully. She also asked for more food, suggesting the Milk Man might retain a higher yield. Renata would settle for not feeling like she was wasting away.

Her room connected to long, well-dressed corridors, eventually leading to the large room with the milkers and Milk Man's research. She would have placed this building as among the higher-end establishments in the city, perhaps on Level 6, or even on the surface level. The other women here seemed pleased, cooperative, moaning as they were milked. Renata noted none were chained. The bulky gene-fixed men and women, like Rupert, were definitely on the slow side. With her full faculties, Renata recalled Donna's theory concerning the gene-fixed tentacle monsters, that they'd also been given some kind of brainwashing. Perhaps this is the same? She shuddered. All these people could be under mental control.

Renata tried to resist when she was brought to the milking machine, but she lost all sense of herself when the milking cups were fixed, driving her into intense, repeated, overlapping orgasms. Sexual energy cascaded violently from her breasts into her body, running wild and free, inspiring constant climax in her cunt. She gasped like a whore, stunned by the pleasure, her body left a shivering wreck, held in place only by the restraining cuffs. Her small refuge of awareness seemed harder to reach this time, as her anger was not as fresh, and, though Renata hated to admit it, her despair was growing. Just as she managed to reach a semi-lucid state, though, she heard a familiar scrambled voice.

"I expected you to dose this one."

Darkness. A burst of hate gave her slightly more strength, but fighting to open her eyes proved useless. They were teary from unending climax. The milking machine distracted her, sucking insistently on her breasts and inspiring new waves of orgasmic release throughout her body. The sliver of extra anger she'd grasped by thinking of Darkness just barely held things at bay.

The Milk Man, in his odious, even tone, said, "I haven't learned enough. The genetics of her breasts are so precise and yet perfectly natural. Her milk in particular is... Well, exquisite is a word. If I dose her, all that could be ruined. It would be a massive set-back to my studies."

Darkness was quiet for so long Renata started thinking she'd imagined the conversation. It was very hard to maintain a sense of self when her entire body was screaming about climax, the wild, orgasmic energy rampaging throughout her nerves, invading everything she was. Renata heard her own moans and gasps, and knew every overpowering sensation was kept barely at bay only by her delicate grasp of a deep, simmering rage. It felt unclean, but she needed it right now.

"A wise point," Darkness finally said. "There is much to learn here."

"I am glad you understand," the Milk Man said. "I have long valued your patronage and advice."

"Indeed," Darkness said. "I have new requirements."

"I was to have a free hand!"

"Remember your place, Jordan," Darkness warned. No stranger to imperious tones, Renata well knew that one. The Baroness had spoken to her often enough that way. She filed the clue away, another to help point toward Darkness's true identity. The shadow continued, "Do not worry. This will amount to only a minor adjustment to your designs. Until I am finished, you will not dose her."

"You can be certain of that. I shall take no risks with this treasure."

Renata clenched her jaw, trying to build on her hate of the Milk Man and Darkness so that she might learn more, but a great crash of energy burst from her tits, overwhelming her feelings. Without even knowing what dosing was, she feared the effect mightily, and that cut off any chance she could retain anger, hurling her back down into a pitiful state of moaning and gasping, cumming her brains out as she was milked dry.

Blinking to wakefulness, Renata stared at the ceiling of her wide room. Smells of toast, bread, and sausages, each scent seemingly rolling directly into a roiling, empty stomach, filled the room. He takes so much milk, Renata thought, and so roughly. Donna had been gentle, her devices soft and pleasant, clearly selected with a mind toward Renata's comfort. She felt a ghost of a smile. Here I am, looking back on Donna's treatment fondly. She sighed and rose to eat, struggling against the sensations of her swaying breasts, even down to the touch of air upon the nipples.

As she chewed, she stared into the seemingly infinite darkness coating the pre-dawn city's grasping towers. One in particular caught her eye, bearing a glowing K on the side. Renata could barely make out the letter from this distance and angle, but she was sure that was Vanessa Kassin's building.

I need a plan. The Milk Man was a fanatic, but his followers seemed to lack commitment. No surprise, if he'd brainwashed them. That kind of automatic control, however, presented her with opportunities for subversion. As Renata finished her meal, the doors to the chamber opened. Only Rupert, the brown-haired guard that seemed assigned to watching her specifically, had arrived. He said, "Come with me."

Noting the flat delivery, Renata raised an eyebrow. This was a curious situation to find herself in, and so soon. A trap, she decided. She could not figure out to what end, however, as she was already a prisoner. Perhaps they wished to see how she might try to escape, to better calibrate their prison. Renata sighed. I have no choice but to try. She smiled warmly. "So early? You must have time to dally, ja? With me?"

"Right now." The words were insistent, but with a slightly delayed delivery. Like someone who had memorized what they needed to say, and were making sure they got it exactly right.

"I've seen you watching my body, Rupert. How your eyes drink in the sight of my tits," Renata said. She set her hands on her hips, then slowly drew them up to her chest, taking care with her breasts even as she accentuated their size with her fingers. "Haven't you dreamed of having me?"

At his continuing blank stare, Renata feared this mind control extended to sexual subjugation. Then the man nodded. "You're pretty."

While her smile grew, inside Renata felt sorry for the man. He was clearly a victim here too. Everyone, including the other women being milked, had likely been rendered mere pawns under the control of the Milk Man. "I'm glad you think so. Let us make that dream a reality, ja?" She turned, walking up the small stairs to the broad bed. She sat, using her posture to add to the offer, patting the smooth green nano-silk sheets. "Come to bed with me."

Rupert began breathing hard. A thin line of drool emerged at the corner of his mouth. He licked at it, wiping his sleeve along his jaw. Standing straighter, he said, "Boss said to bring you."

Renata sighed inwardly. Further seduction failed, his dominated resolve seemingly reasserted in force.

As she went with Rupert, Renata cherished the small victory she had achieved. Rupert wasn't completely unreachable. She made sure to casually touch him on the way, to further entice his interest. Her extensive knowledge of sexual energy extended far beyond using her cunt, she knew how to channel flows in another with merely a touch, and did so on the man. Far less effective than actually having sex with him, it still might help to erode the strength of the Milk Man's drug.

Confident of her eventual victory, Renata made plans for how exactly to use him. The Deckholdt family technique had more secrets yet to give, beyond what she'd began teaching to Donna, and the greatest could be of use here. For that, however, she required absolute control over herself.

Enduring another day of milking, Renata made no attempt to seek awareness. She was going to need all her focus for when Rupert finally caved. Naked as she always was, with his lust likely to be wild after breaking free of the control he was under, he would surely fondle, squeeze, suck, and generally tease the ever-loving fuck out of her tits. Which would in turn drive her wild, unable to act. A sort of self-sabotage.

The next morning Rupert again arrived alone to escort her off to milking. Again she teased him, offering herself. Again he refused, but his struggles seemed increasingly clear. And difficult. Against a normal man, Renata would feel insulted. In any tavern or inn of Bonn, or indeed in this odd American city, she could expect instant acceptance from hundreds of men, and no small number of women, if she so offered herself. Against this insidious mind control, however, she viewed it as a challenge.

One she would overcome.

Two days later, Rupert joined her on the bed. She laid back, legs spread invitingly. All the while she focused on what the Milk Man had done to him, stealing away his mind to serve some dark scheme. It was not fair, it was not right. She drew on that injustice to dredge fresh anger, simmering inside all the while presenting herself as nothing more than a woman waiting for a good, proper pounding. Which, Renata realized suddenly, she really did want. After weeks of being milked, she really needed a good hard dicking. If nothing else, at least this plan would provide her that.

Stripping in rush, Rupert revealed a long, thick member, ready and raised. After two quick pumps, he dived right in. Renata gasped as he plunged into her sex, pushing aside her folds, stretching her cunt. As expected, he reached for her massive breasts, squeezing one in each hand. Her milk sprayed, but she'd grasped her rage, wrangling it to a purpose. She thanked Donna for the tool, which might make her escape possible. Orgasmic energy cascaded throughout her body, driven by the touching of her chest and the deep cock filling her pussy.

As his thighs slammed into hers, forcing his dick deeper into her cunt, Renata gasped with delight. She drank in the feel of his hands on her chest, rubbing her breasts, squeezing her nipples. It was something she'd never quite experienced. Usually she was too out of things to really feel any touches on her breasts. At the same time the pleasure was dull, weakened by the anger coursing through her thoughts.

Still distracting, the sensations led her to simply fuck for many long minutes, enjoying the feel of having a man inside her, of the hard slap of his cum bursting into her cunt, how her slick sex shivered and convulsed. Even dulled, Renata could greatly appreciate these feelings.

When she judged the time right, Renata sought to direct her orgasmic energy, to send the sensations into her sex, using the muscles of her pussy to completely dominate Rupert. As she did so, Renata suddenly climaxed even harder, shivering throughout her entire body. She gasped, chest heaving. Rupert seemed to take it for granted, and kept on fucking her, his hard dick thrusting in and out, drawing even more pleasure from Renata's body, and giving her plenty back in turn.

What's wrong? Renata thought, struggling to keep her head. She tried again, and while her cunt burst as before, sending a wonderful feeling of euphoria into her thoughts, the technique remained lost to her. After a third attempt, she realized what was happening. Her anger stymied the insane orgasmic energy, preventing it from overwhelming her body and mind, but it also stopped her from using the fine control she had long practiced. Without that precision, the Deckholdt family technique was lost to her.

She could control herself or the sexual energy. Not both. As she'd suspected, Donna's plan to cure her had a major problem.

A particularly energetic and delightful thrust from Rupert pulled a moan from her lips. The sound drew her mind back to sex, and she found herself struggling to remain in control, drawing on reserves of anger, at Donna, at herself, for failing to learn how to master her body. Knowing she needed a new plan, she decided old-fashioned seduction would work. Renata set her hands around his neck, drawing him close and kissing him. The hard way it is, she thought, determined.

Making love to Rupert, focusing on his pleasure, Renata started at the feel of something odd under his skin, behind his head, where his neck met his back. Guiding his head to her chest casually, she gasped as he sucked a nipple, drawing down a modest flow of milk. Cracking an eye, she scanned his skin and noticed something had been subcutaneously implanted in his flesh. Recently, if she was an judge of the regrown skin. Hardly a professional job. Probably quick.

A bio-tracker of some kind?

Renata nearly lost her sense of control, spasming wildly as she came, simply from having her tit sucked off. I'm losing it. Her anger was being devoured rapidly by curiosity, too many strange things were going on, things that demanded attention. As focused as her mind was, she was no city-wide super computer. Anger was growing harder and harder to hold, all the more so since she was in the middle of being fucked, something proving increasingly pleasurable. Rupert might be under the influence of mind altering substances, but his natural instincts were more than capable of treating her like a proper woman.

If the Milk Man found Rupert fucking her, however, it could derail her plans. By the time she had that thought, so much of her anger had slipped that she was reduced to gasps and shuddering, totally at the man's mercy. Renata never knew when he'd stopped with her. The next time she became aware of anything, she was back in the bed and it was deep in the middle of the night. Her body was sore, especially her chest, so she knew she'd been milked all day yet again, rendered helpless by intense orgasmic pleasure the whole while.

While she worried about the fate of her plan, Renata remained bothered by the odd implant she had discovered. She had gleaned from that barely witnessed conversation that Darkness wanted something from her. Renata stood, careful of her chest, and approached the view screens. She was glad for the room, for the view, and for these bits of privacy, though now she suspected they had another purpose. Giving me time to plot? The Milk Man, when she heard him speak, described the room as a reward for her valuable contributions.

To perfecting his sick formula for mind control, Renata thought, sneering at the sporadic hovering vehicle traffic.

She found her thoughts returning to Rupert. Perhaps they would let him fuck her again, as at least that was entertaining. She considered his odd implant. Why does he put trackers in his subjects? Simple monitoring software could be wearable, there was no need for something as intrusive as a medical implant. Under his thrall, convincing them to wear such things would be trivial. Or a building AI could monitor the occupants, though this place seemed lacking in that regard. Perhaps the Milk Man needed very precise, very immediate feedback on certain biological processes--

Renata's eyes widened. The technique. They expected me to demonstrate on Rupert, and thereby learn the secret. She clenched her teeth, letting out a low growl, and involuntarily crossed her arms. Anger bloomed enough that she barely noticed a shiver in her tits as her arms pushed up at bottom of her breasts, and no milk came from her nipples.

The Deckholdt family sexual technique was no closely guarded secret, as it was difficult to learn only by having it demonstrated on oneself, but it was a significant ability. Not something she wanted to fall into the wrong hands. Donna, showing rare sense, had been reluctant with its use, another mark in her favor. Darkness absolutely could not be allowed to know, yet now it seemed clear this entire set-up had been devised around that very objective, down to not dosing Renata with whatever mind-altering agent the Milk Man had invented. She would not put it past her enemy to be able to learn the method only from detailed bio-scans.

Even knowing how this revelation reflected on her situation, Renata was glad to save herself from a greater error. She could not use the technique here, even if she learned how to control her body. Obviously her "seduction" of Rupert was part of their plan, so her captors were quite aware of her intentions. She was back to the drawing board when it came to escape.

In the meantime, daily milking.

Renata uttered a weary sigh, withdrawing to one of the comfortable, permanently reclined chairs. After some time, she stood, steeling herself. She stared at the darkened cityscape, watching a tiny flow of hovering vehicles trail through pre-dawn mists. These wasted days must end. I must remain lucid, and learn. I must get complete, proper control over myself. Donna had showed her one way. Effective, flawed, but fortunately not the only path. That experience, however, had blessed her with a certain clarity, a better idea as to the final goal.

Renata knelt before the view, staring blankly, thoughts turned inward.