This story stands– more or less– on its own but might make more sense if you have read the previous chapters.

This final chapter again gets a little intense as Marcella is forced to face whether or not she is a true pain slut. There is some not very nice and not all that sexy electro-pain stuff leading up to the conclusion of the story. If you are not into electro-pain and want to skip that, just scroll or search down to where Plato says he has had to make a deal with the devil. It is all totally non-sexual techno-nerd stuff from that point out as I wind up the story… but leave the possibility open for a sequel.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2019 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Marcella was a naked ‘X’ in the middle of a large bondage frame, hanging with her feet just off the floor. Her legs were tightly pulled so wide apart that her cunt was very nearly gaping open. Bright lights shining down on her from all angles reflected off the sheen of perspiration on her body. Those same lights kept her from seeing out into the darkness which surrounded her.

She couldn’t quite remember how she had come to be here. Her last memory was leaving the apartment to go to work. A large black van pulled up alongside her as she was driving down the road and then… and then… nothing. Then she was here.

A masked woman in a black, full-body catsuit was standing before her. With Marcella’s legs stretched so widely, her own eye level was lower than the woman’s so she was forced to look up at her.

The lower part of the woman’s face, which was uncovered, showed a moderately dark-complected face with the beginnings of age lines around the mouth. That, and the hint of crow’s feet visible through the eye holes of the mask made Marcella think the woman was in her late thirties or early forties. The piercing green eyes gave no hint of age, but their coldness was more than somewhat frightening.

“I understand that you are very good at your job, Miss Henry,” the woman said with a smile accentuated by very white teeth outlined in lips coated with a bright red lipstick. Her face– and voice– then turned very harsh as she said, “So am I.”

She stepped forward and glared down into Marcella’s eyes and said slowly and distinctly, “I am very good at my job.” This close, flecks of brown were visible in the woman’s green eyes. They didn’t make them look any warmer.

After a moment she stepped back and said brightly, “I was surprised to hear that Jorge had failed.” She gave a smirking shrug and added, “But that’s an occupational risk.”

Then she grabbed Marcella’s left nipple and twisted– hard.

“But Jorge Hernandez has never had a woman turn against him… never!”

She twisted even harder.

“But you, my little butterfly…” she said very calmly, “you somehow convinced Loraine Jacobson not only to abort her mission, but also to betray the man she loved and even reveal where Jorge was staying.”

Marcella was confused for a moment, but then remembered that PLATO said he had altered Loretta’s recent history everywhere it appeared on a computer so that she was now effectively in witness protection under her real name. The woman was referring to Loretta, but calling her Loraine.

She let go of Marcella’s nipple and continued calmly, “Jorge must have gotten sloppy for him to have let her know the true location of his safe house.”

She reached up for the other nipple and twisted.

“I don’t make those kinds of mistakes,” she said with a sneer and then added brusquely, “No one knows you are here.” She huffed and said angrily, “You don’t even know you are here because you have no idea where ‘here’ is.”

She let go of the right nipple and stepped back. “If the PLATO project is following typical high-security protocols,” she said calmly, “they will declare you missing two hours after you fail to show up for work. … But no one will get overly-concerned until you don’t come back home tomorrow morning.”

She lifted Marcella’s chin and said, “It would have been a lot easier if you hadn’t started shacking up with that doctor. Then we could have grabbed you as you left on a Saturday morning. That way we would have had two whole days.”

The woman took a deep breath and said, “But one must work within the parameters given.” She made some sort of motion with her hands and three naked young women ran forward and began sticking little black squares all over Marcella’s body.

“I have nine hours to break you,” the woman continued, “and I can’t leave any marks on your body that would raise suspicions at an autopsy. One of your neighbors says they can occasionally hear what sounds like a spanking coming from your apartment.”

She chuckled and said, “From the squeals which accompany those spanks, it is apparent that you are the one getting your fanny beaten. So…” Her smile looked almost like a leer as she looked directly into Marcella’s eyes. “… as long as any bruises or residues look like pain play, I can do anything I want.” Her voice turned harsh again as she continued, “And since I’m a sadist, what I want… is to hear you scream in agony.”

“PLATO,” Marcella yelled, “I told you I didn’t want this to happen.”

“My informants said you talk to the PLATO,” the woman said with a sneer. “They didn’t tell me you expected it to talk back.”

“Virus, PLATO,” Marcella screamed. “Virus! Virus! Virus!”

“Oh,” the woman said, “You have programmed the PLATO to create a virtual world for yourself, haven’t you? And you think your programming has gone wrong.” She stepped back and frowned slightly before saying, “We didn’t think your programming skills were that advanced. Hopefully you aren’t a painslut who programmed pain play into your virtual world. Dealing with a painslut always gets so messy… having to go beyond the pain-pleasure threshold and all of that. Also, we were hoping that we wouldn’t have to torch the car once it was set in place.”

“Virus!” Marcella screamed again, “Virus!