Windows of pleasure, windows of...

Margot lay back on the cool, worn leather, her breaths coming slow and measured. The latex of her dress hugged her body like a second skin, slick and almost too tight, restricting every move she made. She flexed her wrists against the straps again, testing them, but there was no give—they held her in place with unnerving finality. A chill spread through her, though it had nothing to do with the cold steel walls of the interrogation cell. She was on the Orb, the shadowy blacksite that everyone knew existed but no one dared speak about openly. They kept it for whispers.

She took a slow breath, letting the faint, musky scent of leather and ozone fill her senses. The silence in the room felt as weighted as the straps around her wrists and ankles. She was helpless here—stripped of control, restrained on a couch that felt like it had seen far too many prisoners just like her.

She just had to remind herself she was innocent.

The door slid open, but instead of a towering, intimidating figure, a slight girl in scrappy black lace slipped into the room, her eyes wide and curious beneath smudged eyeliner. She looked a lot younger than Margot had expected, and far less... severe. Her lips were painted the deepest shade of plum, and her fingernails bitten like an animal had gnawes at them. She smelled of stale tobacco. OK, not severe. Just mad.

She approached Margot slowly, her head tilted, almost as if she were examining a strange specimen pinned for her viewing pleasure. Her gaze lingered over the latex, the straps, Margot’s breasts. Her expression more fascinated than threatening.

“You’re pretty,” she murmured, a small smile flitting across her lips as she reached out and cupped one of Margot’s tits. Her voice was soft, sweetly amused. “Are you… a terrorist?”

Margot managed a wry smile, despite her predicament. “No, not exactly. I’m just… a writer.”

The goth girl seemed to consider this for a moment, her dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“A writer? Like – books?”

“Yes.”

Then a broad grin.

“Porn, right?”

“Well…”

“I heard them talking about you. You wrote a dirty story about the Orb, and someone didn’t like that, because they think if people start thinking of us that way, they won’t be as afraid.”

“It… my book was serious literature. It wasn’t porn.”

“Would I like it?”

“I… don’t know.”

The girl shrugged.

“Probably not. I’m not much of a reader. And anyway, it’s all stupid because they film all the torture sessions up here. They say it’s for ‘training purposes’ but I mean – no one needs that much training. Its all changes hands so they can watch pretty ladies like you tied up and screaming.”

Then she gave a small shrug, as if to dismiss Margot’s words like an inconsequential detail. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?” she said, her voice lilting, almost sing-song. “You’re just here to be processed. Doesn’t matter what you’ve done.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“I I mean, if you’d done something bad, or there were things they wanted to know, they wouldn’t give you to me. Fuck no.” She tapped Margot’s nose lightly, her dark nails grazing her skin, leaving a feather-light prickle in their wake. “See, I don’t get prisoners, I just get toys. They want to see what I’ll do. They don’t understand it, but they like what I do.”

Margot held her breath as the girl’s fingers drifted to a small, polished leather bag slung over her shoulder. With careful reverence, she pulled out a set of goggles, but not a kind she had ever seen before. These were heavy things, glittering with dials and switches. The goth cradled them like a treasured possession, her eyes bright with anticipation. She bit her lip and smiled softly. “You’ll like this one,” she whispered.

Margot twisted against the leather straps, tugging hard enough to make her shoulders ache, but the bindings wouldn’t give. The goth girl only smiled, watching her with calm amusement. Watching the condemned wriggle was all part of the fun.

“Easy now,” the girl murmured, almost soothingly, as she adjusted a pair of strange, sleek goggles in her hands, the lenses shimmering like red oil slicks in the light of the cell. Before Margot could muster a reply, the girl slipped the goggles over her eyes, tightening them at the back of her head, squashing her curly black hair under the straps. .

“These are… special,” she said, her voice low and oddly hypnotic. “They’re designed to show you things. Some of them are nice. Some of them… are not.”

“Pictures?” Margot asked, trying to mask her trembling curiosity with defiance.

The girl laughed softly, a dark, lilting sound that made the hairs on Margot’s arms rise. “No. Other places. Different dimensions and… well,” she said, almost giggling, “you’ll see. Actually – I don’t know what they fucking are.”

With deliberate care, she adjusted the lenses, twisting one, then another, until the whole device seemed to hum with strange energy. She pressed a small, flat button on the side, and Margot’s vision went black for a moment. Then, all at once, her world exploded in colour.

Swirling, cascading waves of light and colour filled her vision, vibrating with an otherworldly intensity. She was floating, her mind pulled deeper and deeper into a cosmos of shifting, radiant patterns. It felt as though the colours were pouring through her, flooding her senses with a pleasure so pure and encompassing that her jaw went slack, her body sinking heavily into the couch.

“oooooohhh….” Was all she could say.

She could hardly move. Every fibre of her being seemed to thrum with the bliss coursing through her, melting her muscles, blanking out every thought except the overwhelming waves of ecstasy as colours shimmered and danced, pulsing with surreal beauty.

Through the haze of her pleasure, she heard the goth girl’s voice, soft and teasing. “You like that one?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes…” Margot whispered, the word escaping her in a breathless sigh.

"So," the girl’s voice drifted through Margot’s haze, her tone soft and almost teasing, "are you sure you’re not a terrorist?"

Margot struggled to respond, but her voice was a mere whisper, swallowed by the overpowering sensations coursing through her body. Just then, she felt the girl’s hands delicately adjusting the lenses, a slight shift that made her vision blur, then refocus.

Before her eyes, a new world bloomed—a surreal landscape of golden vines entwined with glistening, translucent blossoms, each petal undulating like it was alive, breathing. Iridescent droplets beaded along the vines, dripping slowly down in sensual rivulets, disappearing into the shadows.

A dampness pooled between her thighs, the pleasure dizzying as her breath turned to shallow pants. Her body shuddered involuntarily, heat building at her core as the vision seemed to reach into her, pulling her inexorably toward release.

“Just… confess,” the goth girl’s voice whispered, gentle but insistent, her breath ghosting over Margot’s ear. “Confess and I’ll make you cum.”

And Margot did, letting the words fall from her lips in a soft, breathy surrender. The confession barely registered before the visions around her intensified, spilling into colours more vivid and seductive than any she’d ever seen. Her senses ignited with the sudden onslaught—a glistening swirl of purples and golds, textures she could almost feel, warm and pulsing. She felt herself dissolve into the scene, her skin tingling, every nerve poised on the edge as if the colours themselves were touching her, caressing her.

Pleasure washed over her in crashing waves, drawing her deeper and deeper until her body arched, her hands curling tightly within their restraints. She cried out, lost in a sweet oblivion, her whole body surrendering to the raw ecstasy, pulsing in time with the visions until she sagged, spent and trembling, on the leather couch. Her chest rose and fell in rapid pants, her skin damp with sweat, the afterglow still humming through her.

The goth girl let out a small, delighted giggle. “You confessed. That took… fifteen minutes.” She tapped a finger thoughtfully to her lips, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Margot blinked, dazed. “But… you said…you weren’t trying to…”

“I lied. I don’t give a shit what you confessed to, I just wanted to hear those words. I love them.” The girl’s voice was soft, playful, as if amused by the whole thing. “Fifteen minutes is close to the station record, but who cares. See, I’m just experimenting with these lenses,” she said, holding up the strange device as if it were a prized toy. “They let you see other dimensions, and some of them are really interesting. That one I just showed you?” She grinned wickedly. “Pure pleasure.”

Margot’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of it. “How can a… a dimension be an experience?”

The girl tilted her head, considering. “Dimensions are like… places, but they’re not always somewhere you’d walk around in. Some of them are pure sensations—emotions, even. That one?” She smiled. “It’s like it was made to make people like you beg.”

The goth girl’s giggle shifted, turning darker, something chilling threaded through its sweetness. “And this one,” she murmured, her fingers deftly adjusting the lenses again, “it’s like it was made to drive people like you insane.”

The world before Margot shifted into a new vision. This was an endless, eldritch ocean, thick and black, churning with massive, sinuous shapes that rose and fell beneath the waves. There were strange, spindly towers jutting out of the waters, covered in writhing, alien tendrils, their oily surfaces glistening in the dim, otherworldly light. Vast, unblinking eyes watched her from the depths, their gaze penetrating, relentless, filled with ancient, unknowable hunger. But she knew this was Earth, as it had been, as it would be. The one unaltered thing was the Orb, still circling a dead world.

A scream tore itself from Margot’s lips, high and ragged, as her mind struggled to grasp the incomprehensible vastness before her. But as her vision fractured, the horror transformed—her scream subsiding into a hollow, mirthless laugh, which quickly devolved into drooling, mindless gibberish. She couldn’t feel herself sag into the couch, eyes wide and unseeing, lost somewhere in the alien depths.

When the goth girl finally removed the goggles, Margot’s eyes were no longer their usual colour. They glowed a strange, otherworldly gold, empty yet reflecting some twisted, dark wisdom from that horrible, endless ocean.

“Told you you’d like these,” the girl whispered, her lips curling in satisfaction.