“Hey, Tifa, can you come over here for a second?  I just wanted to talk to you about something.”  The voice belonged to the only patron left in the bar, a not-quite-regular  that Tifa didn’t know by name but who she could still  have picked out of a crowd.  Or a lineup.  With tanned skin and a heavily muscled body, she figured he probably worked at the Costa Del Sol shipyards, and only came to the bar when he was in Midgar for business.  

Tifa Lockhart struggled to contain a sigh.  She spent a few more moments rinsing off glasses before loading them into the dishwasher, not sure how she wanted to handle this.

She wasn’t any stranger to her customers wanting more time with her than they got from her serving drinks.  Most of her patrons were men, and most of her patrons — male and female — weren’t much good at keeping their attraction to her a secret.  Part of what had let the former Nibelheim refugee establish herself as well as she had was her looks, which she had given up on feeling conflicted about a long time ago.  She was pretty and she had big tits.  If Tifa could have pulled in more customers by virtue of her being able to smash through a brick wall with one punch, she would have.  All she could do was make sure her excellent service kept patrons coming after word-of-mouth about her looks got them through the door.

It helped that Seventh Heaven had a reputation for not having very many creeps or “problem drunks.”  Tifa was good at making sure of that.  Which brought her to her current dilemma.

She was almost certain that this guy was about to ask her out.  She could deal with that.  Didn’t want to, but could.  Letting guys down, easy or not, was something she was well practiced at.  If he didn’t take a polite no, she would just throw him out on his ass.  Or she could just sidestep the issue, tell him the bar was closed and that she really needed to get some rest.  It was even true.

In the end, Tifa just put her best poker face on and moved to where the patron was seated at the far end of the bar.  “Problem with your last drink?” she asked, putting a little concern in her voice.  

“Oh, no, no way,” the man said, seeming to notice he had half a glass left.  He immediately downed it, then set it back down on the bar, a little further to the side than before.  “No, there was just, uh, something I wanted to ask you.”  

Tifa really had to try not to release a sigh.  “Oh?  What?” she asked, leaning against where the bar curved to the side before ending in the little gate that marked off her territory.  She tried to sound neutral.  That was hard, too.

“Yeah, uh, I was wondering…”  The guy scratched his beefy neck.  He really was almost too stacked with muscle.  Tifa didn’t really have a set body type that flipped her switch, so to speak, and she’d dated a couple of guys who spent too much time in the gym since coming to Midgar, but this one’s face was too plain for the whole package to work for her.  “I know you run the bar, obviously, but, uh…do you do anything else for money?”

It took Tifa a moment to understand exactly what the man was asking.  What he was implying.  And then it took everything she had not to show exactly how furious she was.

She’d had no shortage of men propositioning her over the course of her time running her bar.  Some of them were nice about it.  Most of them weren’t, in one way or another.  She’d had men try to force themselves on her after getting her alone, had others start scenes when the bar was nearly closed after she rejected them.  She wished it wasn’t something she was used to, but…she was used to it.

This, though, was new.  “Seventh Heaven is my only source of income,” she said, mostly through her teeth.  She was usually better at playing it nice, but this was a first, and a new low.  “Sir.”

Worse than the man’s question was his reaction to her answer.  He almost looked amused.  He pulled out a thick-looking wallet.  “I suppose it was worth asking…”  He filtered through the bills reached deeper into the wallet for something in a way that tickled Tifa’s instincts.  

She couldn’t think of anything he could be pulling out that the old man had trained her to be ready for, but all of her muscles tensed up regardless.  “Sir, I’m closed,” she said, glancing at the clock just to make sure she was right.  “Just go ahead and pay —”

Tifa didn’t get a clear look at what the man pulled out of his wallet.  It was dark, a strip of something, a long something that hung limp in his hand in the brief moment between his pulling it out of his wallet and his flinging it at her.  And to her credit, she almost, almost managed to snatch it out of the air.  But she’d been expecting a trajectory for her chest or face or gut, and the object was flung straight at her neck.  She felt it catch on one side of her neck, somehow, and a moment later it had looped around the back, the other side, and her throat before clasping shut around her entire neck.  Like a collar.

“What?” she said, reaching up to grab it — and then stopped.  Her arm, and its twin, fell back down to hang limp at her sides.  “Whuh?” she tried again, but this time she felt like she didn’t quite — didn’t quite have full control over her voice, or the muscles of her mouth.  Something was wrong.  Something was —

“Tifa, I want to introduce you to a fun new piece of tech,” the man said, standing up from his stool.  He began to move around the bar, then pushed through the little door, which swung back into place behind him as he moved to stand behind her.  “One of two I’m going to show you today.  The collar interfaces with your nervous system.  I’m sure you’re feeling that right now, actually.  Right now, without any other signals passing into it, all it does is make you go nice and passive.  You’re not going to fall on your ass, but it keeps you from actually…doing anything.”

With the man standing behind her, and Tifa unable to turn her head — or move at all, why couldn’t she move, what was happening? — she couldn’t see what he did next.  She heard a rustling of fabric and assumed he was pulling something from a pocket, because a moment later, he held an object in front of her in one hand.  It looked like…almost like a weirdly thick pair of shades with no visible means of actually keeping them on one’s head.  From the left side of the apparatus, Tifa could see a slim black cord dangling.

“This one is the second thing I was going to show you.  It’s funny, keeping an eye on the dev blogs for this whole product line, this one has changed the most.”   He turned it this way and that, pointedly giving Tifa a good look.  It was easy to see which side was the front and which was the back, in spite of both seeming to have…were those displays?  The whole apparatus looked mold to fit directly over her eyes, to fit seamlessly against her face.  “It used to just be a big ol’ helmet…not exactly the easiest thing to lug around.  But, y’know, everything’s getting miniaturized these days…”  He brought it closer to her face.

He was going to put it on her.  Tifa’s mind hadn’t slowed down at all, she was just…locked in.  Like someone who had had a stroke or something, left perfectly aware but completely unable to actually move her body or vocalize anything at all.  She didn’t know what the device he was holding was, but she was terrified of it.  She tried with everything she had to scream.  To move her arm even a little, to do so little as clench her hands into fists.  

She couldn’t do a thing at all as he brought the device, almost like a domino mask, within less than an inch of her face.  “See you on the other side,” the man said, his lips close enough to her ear to brush against it as he spoke.  Then he pressed the thing over her eyes.  A moment later, she felt a slight pressure on her neck where the collar was, and knew he was plugging the device’s cord into it.  

For a few moments, Tifa was in perfect darkness.  She could hear her own breathing, perfectly steady and calm.  In her mind, she was panicking, but the collar’s control over her nervous system was keeping her from showing it in any way.   She couldn’t hyperventilate.  She couldn’t cry.  

Most importantly, she couldn’t close her eyes as the display on the device suddenly activated.  At first, it was just a black screen, a little ‘Loading’ symbol in pink text throbbing in one corner of her vision.  But then, the screen abruptly turned that same shade of warm, glowing pink.  What the fuck?

“Ah, fuck, right,” she heard from behind her, and then another rustling as the man fiddled with something in his pockets.  Then, she felt a pair of soft somethings fitted into her ears.  Immediately, she heard an ambient sound, like a humming just on the edge of her awareness.  She might not have noticed it if the earbuds had been in her ears in the first place, it was so subtle.  She heard something over the sound, but whatever the man was saying was muffled by the earbuds.  Something to be grateful for, she supposed, despite her helplessness and unease.

For a while, all she was aware of was that warm pink glow filling her vision, and the barely-there humming in her ears.  She still couldn’t close her eyes, but for some reason they didn’t feel tired or strained.  It was strange.

A change took place in the display, but it was so gradual and…strangely fuzzy that she didn’t notice it until the thickening, darker pink fog  formed into words, just barely discernible before the fog dispersed.  ‘Don’t worry.  Let it feel good.’  The words were barely legible for an instant, for so short an interval that Tifa didn’t even feel sure that she had seen it.  And even if she had, what did the words even mean?  Let what feel good?  She couldn’t feel anything.

…But maybe she did.  She had been feeling a little uncomfortable, just standing behind the bar, her arms hanging to her sides.  Hadn’t her feet been tired, after a long day?  But somehow that ache, that slight pain, was dispersing.  Her arms felt a little heavy, but in a good way…a relaxed way.  They felt warm.  Her limbs felt heavy and warm.  

Again, she only realized that a patch of pink on the screen had been darkening when it sharpened for the briefest of moments into discernible text.  ‘Just let go.  Feel good.’  But before she could register the words in a conscious way, they were gone, and again the display, the only thing she could see, was a uniform field of warm pink light.  

Was the hum filling Tifa’s ears a little louder?  Had something changed?  Or maybe she was just paying a little closer attention.  She wasn’t sure.  Maybe she was just reacting to nothing.  

Tifa found herself directing all her focus — her strangely dulled, weakened focus — on the things she could see and hear.  She wanted to be sure she would grasp whatever message appeared next on the screen, wanted to be sure the humming wasn’t getting any louder.  She wasn’t sure what this thing was supposed to do, but surely her best chance of resisting it was in keeping her mind dedicated to that?

She was so focused on watching and listening for any changes that she didn’t notice when she forgot that there was a man, a dangerous man, standing right behind her.  That had put the devices on her.  One minute he was at the edge of her awareness, and then he had faded from her mind entirely.  As did her surroundings.  There was just Tifa, standing slack-limbed in empty, warm, pink space, with that humming filling her ears and making her relax.

— Had she seen the word ‘Relax’ just now?  Damn it, she had meant to be paying more attention…but there was still a darkening fog forming, so maybe she had imagined it.  Soon, that, too formed words.  ‘You’re being good.  You deserve to feel good.’  

This time, the words hovered in the center of her vision for longer than the others had.  At least several seconds.  And when they began to waver, they didn’t fade into fog that disappeared moments later.  Instead, they seemed to dissolve and coalesce into a line that began to wrap around itself.  At first Tifa only saw the smallest, tightest curling in the center of her vision, but soon it had formed a spiral, one shade of pink on another, both comforting but still distinct.  

Tifa was so focused on the slowly forming spiral in front of her — which was to say, displayed on the screen that had been sealed to her face — that she didn’t really notice when the humming began to fade into a low, slow beat in time with that of her heart.  The change had been so gradual that, if it had come to her conscious mind at all, she would have sworn that the sound had been a drum beat all along.  

The spiral was on the verge of running out of line to feed off of when another set of words slowly formed in her field of vision.  ‘Good girls deserve good things,’ she registered for only a moment, and then the words lost their form and began to ooze into the steadily growing spiral.  

If Tifa could have seen herself — if she had been aware of herself at all, and not so thoroughly focused on what the screen and earbuds were feeding her brain — she would have seen a woman leaning lightly on her hands against the edge of her bar.  She wouldn’t have been sure when she had lifted her hands to brace them on the dark wood of the counter, or even if it had been her.  Of course, if she had been able to see herself, she would also have seen the man standing behind her.  The man had taken his shirt off, had dropped his pants, and wasn’t wearing any underwear, either.  He was, in fact, completely naked, and other than slowly stroking himself while watching her, he seemed patient to wait.  For what, she wouldn’t have been able to guess.

But she couldn’t see herself.  She wasn’t aware of her surroundings, or of the man who had put her in this situation.  She was floating in a world of warm pink light, her heart beating in time with the drum beat feeding into her ears.  ‘Good girls deserve good things,’ she saw again, and then it was part of the spiral.  The spiral was huge, now, it was filling her vision.  This big, it looked like something that Tifa could fall into.  Or was she falling?  Was she sinking into it?  When she thought of it that way, it seemed obvious that her body was floating down into a pink abyss, a tunnel of throbbing heat that felt comforting on the bare skin of her legs and ass and belly.

If Tifa had been able to see herself, she would have seen a woman with her shirt bunched up just beneath her breasts and her skirt pushed up past her ass.  Her hands were still on the bar.  The man was standing closer to her now, still stroking himself.  Had he done it?  Had she done it herself?

‘Good girls get good things.’  The spiral filled her vision, and Tifa couldn’t even track where the words were appearing.  Was she hearing them, now?  Were there whispers, under the steady beat pulsing in her ears?  ‘Good girls get rewards.’  ‘Money is a reward.’  ‘Good girls make money.’

Simple little nothings, things that sounded like common sense to Tifa, especially when she was submerged deep beneath the surface of whatever had been done to her.  Whatever was being done to her.  She agreed with them, when she was thinking at all.  She did deserve good things.  She worked so hard, dealt with so much.  She deserved good things.  Money was one of those things, but as she accepted the thoughts that were being snuck into her stream of consciousness, she also expected more.  

“Your job is work.  Your job is hard.  Good girls get rewards.  Good girls deserve easy jobs.  Good girls…’

The messages forming in Tifa’s field of vision were deforming faster than she could consciously notice them, faster than her mind could really register on the surface.  But deeper down, in her increasingly suggestible mind, Tifa was receiving them even when they appeared for even a fraction of a fraction of a second.

‘Good girls are easy.  Good girls are easy for money.  Money is a reward.  Cum is a reward.  Your job is hard.  Sex is easy.  Easy girls get rewards.  Easy girls make money.'  The spiral was so large that Tifa wasn’t sure if it had begun as dark pink on a lighter shade, or vice versa.  She couldn’t remember how long she had been here.  She couldn’t feel the weight of the screen on her face, and the snugness of her collar was a comfort.  

Tifa’s breathing had grown faster with the beat pounding in her ears, and her own heartbeat grew faster when a pair of hands finally — finally? — grabbed her ass cheeks and squeezed them lovingly.  The instant she felt those hands on her, she felt pleasure feed back automatically from the collar.  She moaned, loud enough that she could hear it through the earbuds.  It was faint, but it was there.  It wasn’t distinct enough to jar her from her trance, though.  Maybe nothing could have.  

‘Sex is easy.  Sex is a reward.  Your job is hard.  You’re a good girl.  You’re easy.  Cum is a reward.’  She was seeing the words in every rotating line and layer of the spiral, and the spiral was all around her, and  she could feel it on her skin and in her head.  Warm, like hands on her ass.  Or her thighs?  Or her waist?  She couldn’t track the passage of time when she was in the spiral, when the suggestive little words whispered in her ears and glowed into her eyes were everything to her newly malleable mind.  She felt her back against the counter now, until she didn’t, until she felt her knees on something hard.

She was kneeling, and ‘Good girls kneel,’ and kneeling felt good to Tifa, which meant she was a good girl, probably.  ‘Your job is hard.’  ‘You deserve a reward.’  ‘Sex is a reward.’  ‘Good girls kneel.’  She could see something at the center of the spiral now, a glowing point, a pink sun that grew and grew until she could distinguish what it really was.

There were images that flickered in that circle in the center of her vision, and she couldn’t track all of them when her eye wanted to take in the spiral.  The spiral was comforting and warm.  The hands on her face were warm.  There was something warm pressing against her mouth and face, a bar of heat that was a little slick with something.  Some of the images lasted just long enough that Tifa could recognize what they were.  They were of girls, girls bobbing their heads, girls licking their way up and sucking their way down, girls covering cocks with their saliva, girls coming up from sucking cock and gasping for air with delight on their faces.

‘Money is a reward.’ ‘Sex is a reward.’  ‘Cum is a reward.’  ‘Good girls kneel.’  ‘Good girls deserve a reward.’  ‘Easy girls make money.’  Tifa was taking ragged, whining breaths, her lips open against the cock that was slowly dragging down her face before sliding back up against it.  If Tifa could have seen herself, she would have seen a woman on her knees behind a bar, her shirt pushed up past her tits and her skirt hiked up so high that she would have been able to see her flushed, wet cunt oozing down to the floor.  She would have seen her panties yanked all the way down to her knees.  

What she could see was the spiral, and an endless series of still and moving images of good girls, an endless series of examples.  Examples she could follow.  Tifa was a good girl, a smart girl, and it was obvious that all of this was just training.  She was being taught, and her lessons were growing less subtle with every breath she sucked in and every excited exhalation that followed.  ‘Sucking cock makes money.’ ‘Good girls suck cock.’  ‘Cock is a reward.’  ‘Money is a reward.’  “You deserve a reward.’  ‘Don’t worry and suck cock.’  ‘Feel good like a good girl.’  The words were flickering, the whispers in her ears were overlapping, the drum beat and the hum from before were fading in and out of one another.  The spiral was the only constant, filling her vision, becoming her world.  

She felt the head of the cock that had been grinding against her face pressing against her lips.  They were already parted, and the cock wasn’t pushing very hard.  It was more like an invitation.  Like it was her choice what she wanted to do next.  Of course she had a choice.  ‘Good girls suck cock.’  No one was forcing Tifa to do anything.  Who could have?  She was the only person here.

Suddenly, as Tifa’s lips closed experimentally around the cock head in her mouth, she remembered the customer.  What had he said to her?  She couldn’t remember.  But he was a customer.  A customer.  Right.  And his cock was in her mouth.  ‘Good girls suck cock.  Easy girls make money.’

For a moment, a single phrase hung in the center of the spiral, a chant in her ears.  ‘Good girls suck cock for money.’  ‘Good girls suck cock for money.’  ‘Good girls suck cock for money.’  But then, as she wavered on the edge of something, a decision she didn’t know she was making, the words shifted, the chant changed.  ‘Good girls are whores.’  ‘Whores suck cock for money.’  ‘Good girls are whores.’  ‘Whores are good girls.’

A customer’s cock was in Tifa’s mouth, and Tifa was a good girl.  Wasn’t she?  Of course she was a good girl.  Tifa began to bob her head, working her tongue along her customer’s cock as she took more and more of it in with every up-and-down motion of her head.  Her lips dragged along the precum-slick member as she stuffed one inch after another into her mouth.  

Every time she bobbed her head that way, every time she sucked a little more cock into her mouth, the collar around her neck buzzed a little more pleasure into her nerves, sending delicious, rewarding signals along her limbs and into her cunt.  And she knew she deserved the pleasure thrumming through her body like a heartbeat, because she was a good girl.  ‘Good girls are whores.’  ‘Cum is a reward.’ ‘Cock feels good.’  

Tifa felt her customer’s thumbs rubbing against her cheeks as his hands stayed on her face, not pushing or pulling her, but guiding her as she sucked his cock.  As she did her job.  ‘Whores make money.’  His hands felt good.  She felt pleasure at his touch…thanks to the collar.  But Tifa had forgotten that the collar existed, forgotten that the mask had ever not been on her face.  The spiral had always been there…right?

She had never taken a cock in her throat, but she had seen an endless cascading series of women deepthroating cock in the images flickering in the center of the spiral.  They were good girls, so she knew she should follow their example.  So she pushed herself, threw herself harder and harder into the act of sucking cock, of trying to force herself further and further forward.  And she gagged noisily every time.  She couldn’t hear herself, but the man could, and soon he was thrusting gently into her mouth with her every forward, bobbing motion.  

When Tifa took the man’s thick, hot cock into her throat for the first time, she felt such a powerful surge of pleasure that she came.  She let out a broken, shameless moan around the man’s cock — her customer’s cock — in response.  And perhaps because of the vibrations from that, a moment later Tifa felt him beginning to pull out at the same time that she felt hot, thick cum come out in great, pulsing spurts.  

The spiral and the pleasure and the words and the hum were all as one, all one blanketing warmth, one pleasurable high that enveloped Tifa and braced her as the powerful orgasm continued to shake her body.  The man’s cum continued to fill her mouth, overflowed past her lips, oozed down her chin and neck.  ‘Cum is a reward.’  ‘Good girls deserve cum.’  She saw images flicker at the center of the spiral, women smiling with cum on their faces, women swallowing loads of cum after displaying them on their tongues.  Good girls enjoying their rewards.

Tifa let the cock head pop free of her mouth before she followed their example, displaying the thick, creamy spunk on her tongue before pulling it back into her needy mouth and swallowing.  When she swallowed, she felt more pleasure in her already overstimulated pussy.  Overstimulated, because Tifa was fingering herself with urgent, desperate motions.  She wanted to cum again.  Good girls deserved rewards, didn’t they?

The spiral didn’t fade, but it receded into the corners of her vision, and the endless series of images that had resided in the spiral’s center gave way to a visual feed of the cock in front of her.  It was covered in her cum and saliva, and Tifa felt an instinctive urge to have it in her mouth again.  She deserved cum.  That cum was her reward, right?  But then she felt a hand tilt her chin upward, felt her gaze directed upward at her customer.  

“That was good work,” he said, smiling.  Or was he smirking?  He reached past her, grabbed something off the bar behind her, and then she saw him holding his wallet from before.  

Before?  Before…the spiral?  But there wasn’t a time before the spiral…right?  The spiral had always been there.  Was still there, churning at the edges of her vision, a constant reminder of the lessons she had learned.  ‘Good girls deserve cum.’  She moaned a little as she continued to fuck herself on her too-slender fingers.  She needed more.  “Thank you,” she made herself say, and it came out as a whine.

“I’ve gotta pay you, of course,” he said, and Tifa felt a thrill.  The other big reward that she deserved, because she was a whore.  A good girl.  He pulled out several large bills, and Tifa’s head swam at the thought of all that cash.  He waved it in her face.  “You’re gonna take it?”

Tifa found herself with a problem.  The money was right there.  Her reward.  Well, her other reward.  Her first reward was all over her lips and chin and neck.  There was even a little on her tits.  But her hands were busy.  Both of them — one’s fingers delving into her sopping wet cunt, and the other fondling and flicking and pinching at her clit in all the ways she best enjoyed.  She couldn’t stop.  She knew that good girls deserved rewards, and she wanted to feel good.   But the money was right there.

The solution presented itself as she recalled her surroundings.  Right, she also ran a bar.  Running a bar was hard, but it did give her an idea.  “Just, just put it on your tab.  Y-you can pay it off later,” she said, her voice slipping into a whine as she felt herself getting closer.  

The man let out a loud laugh that caught Tifa by surprise.  It almost sounded cruel.  But it couldn’t have been, of course.  He was her customer, after all.  “Good thinking,” he finally said, seeming to have a little trouble keeping control of his voice.  Or keeping his face straight.  “Say, you seem to be having a little trouble there.  Maybe I could call some buddies over?  I bet some more customers would help you sort that right out.”  

Tifa let out a gasp.  “That, that would be great!  Word of mouth is always good for new businesses.”  She made herself pull her hands away from her sex.  She wanted her reward, but more work came first, right?  “How, h-how long do you think it’ll take your friends to get here?” She tried to keep any impatience out of her voice, but there was still an obviously needy quality to it.  

Her first customer grinned down at her, his cock still rock hard and still covered in his cum from before.  ‘Good girls swallow cum,’ the spiral reminded Tifa, and she bit her lip as she looked up at it.  He pulled out his phone from where his pants were draped over the sink, then tapped out a quick message before setting it on the counter.  “Oh, I really don’t think it’ll take them long at all.  I bet they’ll hurry, in fact,” he said with a devilish grin.  “Now, how about we fill the time and that perfect little mouth of yours?  Maybe you could give me a referral discount for the guys who’re about to show up.”

Tifa didn’t even bother answering, just throwing herself forward and beginning to lick and kiss her way up and down the spunk-slathered length in front of her.  Business was booming, and a good girl like her deserved a reward, after all.

O O O

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