They were polished before presentation.No different than dolls in a luxury showroom.Their skin was scrubbed raw then sealed in glass-sheen oil. Nipples buffed. Asses lubed. Holes stretched open and inspected. Their mouths were forced around silicon molds to hold their lips parted. Nothing was left untouched.It wasn’t preparation.It was packaging.They were no longer Reyna and Cole. That died in the Chamber.Now they were Unit 03 and Unit 04, assigned auction tiers, marked with glowing ink, and fitted with thin black leashes that clipped directly to the back of their collars.The voice rang out over the loudspeakers:“Auction simulation begins in ninety seconds. Bidders, prepare your selections.”The room was gold-lit, decadent, built like a Roman pleasure hall: velvet floors, crystal columns, a massive stage under a ring of lights. Rows of elite investors lounged on curved sofas, sipping cocktails and holding small, metallic paddles.Behind the curtain, Units 03 and 04 stood in da
The room was called the Chamber.There were no windows. No exits.Just chrome walls, heat lamps, ceiling-mounted cameras, and two glass platforms suspended from chains. On each was a padded restraint table fitted with steel clamps, electrodes, a dozen inlets for tools, and a digital display pulsing red.Reyna didn’t recognize herself in the mirror as they led her in.Her hair was slicked back, soaked from a cold chemical rinse. Her skin glistened under the light, scrubbed raw and rehydrated with glistening oil. Her collar was heavier now, marked UNIT 03 in harsh red text.Cole followed silently behind, stripped of every detail that once made him human. His body was equally slicked, tattooed now with a barcode just beneath his navel.His collar blinked UNIT 04.Neither of them spoke.Speech wasn’t allowed anymore.Not unless requested.The AI voice returned—female, cold, pleased.“Welcome to the endurance chamber. Units 03 and 04, you are now on mirrored platforms. Your pain, your plea
They didn’t speak on the way down to the demonstration floor.There was no need.The hum of the elevator was the only sound between them, vibrating softly beneath their bare feet. Their wrists were already cuffed behind their backs, ankles shackled with only enough slack for short, measured steps. Collars blinked red with readiness.Neither had worn clothes in days.Above them, embedded in the elevator ceiling, a screen pulsed with words:“Unit 001 + Unit 002 | LIVE DEMO | Synced Flesh Interface”Cole inhaled through his nose, slow and deep. Reyna shifted beside him, feeling the ache still lingering between her thighs from the last test. But this was different. They’d been told.This wasn’t just another trial.This was showcase.The investors were watching.When the doors opened, bright white light washed over their bodies.The demo theater was silent. Tiered seating. Dark walls. Forty, maybe fifty elite shareholders sat in pressed suits and blood-red masks, sipping champagne and wait
The room was colder this time.Brighter, too—lit by an overhead grid of sterile white panels that made every inch of exposed skin feel more vulnerable, more watched. Cameras hummed quietly in the corners. The walls were mirrored. There was no privacy. Not even a shadow to hide in.Reyna and Cole stood side by side, both fully naked, their wrists secured above their heads with taut, metal-linked cuffs that stretched them just enough to make rest impossible. Ankles were fastened to the floor, spreading their legs apart. Their collars had been upgraded—thicker, heavier, with tiny blinking lights on each side.Programmed, the voice had said.“You’re now synced,” a woman’s voice echoed through a speaker overhead. Not human. Cool. Automated. “Unit 001 and Unit 002. Every sensation is linked. Every punishment is shared.”Reyna shifted slightly. The metal cuffs bit into her wrists.Cole turned his head slightly toward her. “You okay?”A jolt hit them both.They gasped at the same time.“Talki
Reyna didn’t ask many questions before accepting the job.She’d heard the whispers—quiet rumors about a secretive tech company that paid handsomely for “adult product testers.” No names. No HR interviews. Just a contract signed with blood-thin ink and a private car sent to pick her up the next morning.The NDA had warned her.She didn’t care.She needed the money, and curiosity always outweighed fear.She just hadn’t expected the man waiting across from her.He stood tall, lean, his dark shirt clinging to a sculpted chest. His arms were veined and tensed beneath the fabric, his jaw tight as he reviewed something on the tablet in his hand. He didn’t look up when she walked in. Just clicked something and spoke.“You’re late.”Reyna blinked. “I—there was traffic—”“Doesn’t matter,” he said, eyes still locked on the screen. “Strip. Put on the cuffs.”There was no hello. No name. No small talk.Her body tensed.But she obeyed.She stepped into the center of the black-tiled room and unzippe
Cain hadn’t left the garage since that night.He couldn’t.The name still echoed in his head. Cain.He hadn’t heard it in years. Hadn’t felt worthy of a name. Not since he gave up control. Since he gave up pretending. The man had given it back to him not as a reward, but as a collar. A brand. A reminder of who he was now — not the mechanic, not the dominant, not the master of this oil-stained kingdom.Just Cain.And tonight, Cain was naked again. Kneeling on the floor, forehead resting against the concrete, arms behind his back, cock half-hard between his thighs. Waiting.The storm outside shook the old metal roof. Lightning flashed through the gaps in the door. And when the heavy sound of boots cut through the thunder, he shivered.He didn’t look up.He didn’t breathe.Not until the voice came.“I told you I’d bring someone to watch.”Cain lifted his head.The man stepped in, black gloves already on, coat dripping with rain. Behind him, a second man entered.Younger. Darker skin. Sha