A Rejected Thesis Pt. 03

“I am part of the Russian Mafia,” Alex boasted. “You are mere arm candy, woman. Call me ‘boss.’ Now lose those clothes and get on your knees.” Anna was laughing inside her VR helmet; her avatar kept a straight face. Dorna, working the control panel, removed the clothes from the avatar. Oleg had plied Anna with chocolates, flowers, jewelry, and other niceties. This young brigand was no more a member of the Russian Mafia than some circus clown.

Anna got on her knees. Then Alex dropped his pants and hocked his drawers. He was erect. His shaft was short and hard, like a wooden pole. This indicated that his VR interface was little more than a hollow cylinder. Anna observed that his avatar lacked the detail and definition or hers. This guy was a low-budget player. Using the cheap hollow cylinder must have been less than comfortable. Anna acted her part well, licking and kissing his member and making purring sounds, which Dorna transmitted via a voice link.

After a few minutes of fellatio, Alex ordered Anna to the bed. She was to grasp her legs behind her knees and spread herself for him. He took a very long time examining her privates, licking an index finger and rubbing her pert pink pearl. Anna moaned as the VR rack intensified his actions on her real physical body. This was a low-budget act; it was mostly physical with little high-tech neural networking and brain stimulation. Alex pushed one then two fingers into her hot tight pussy. Then he tried three and found resistance. Anna groaned and looked into his steel eyes with her blue eyes begging mercy. Then he mounted her.

Alex wasn’t large but he was hard. It felt like a wooden pole up her hole. He pumped hard and she tried to respond. Then he pushed first on her perineum and slide the crude rod upwards, spreading her vulva and rudely parting her labia minora. The rod would push upwards striking her cervix and sliding backwards, only to be withdrawn and inserted again. He was nowhere near the terminus of her vagina. His strokes were intense but he lacked depth and girth. Still, the rapidly and hardness of his shaft would guarantee a sore pussy for the girl in the morning.

Then Alex demanded that Anna turn over and spread her cheeks. He rubbed his wooden pole along her slit and pulled it back. Pressing first to her hidden veranda, her perineum, he slid the moistened member into her rectum with all his might. Her anus yielded. The girl would have enjoyed a more gentle penetration. She hoped that he could get his rocks soft soon. After about three hard thrusts he vanished. Then Anna heard Dorna speak.

“This player ran out of time,” Dorna remarked. “He was one of those low-budget types. Don’t worry girl, there will be some quality clients later.” This was a human-machine interface. Strictly speaking it did not violate any law or religious commandment. Realistically speaking it was the lowest form of humiliation and servitude for Anna.

One hour on the VR rack was enough and Dorna removed Anna. The process reversed her connection. First the helmet, then the saddle, teat cups, gloves, and socks came off next. At last the shirt was removed and the black iron collar replaced. Then the ankle cuffs came off and her VR pants. Again Anna was naked, collared, and chained. She returned to the folded blanket and kneeled down. Dorna left and returned quickly with a bowl of oatmeal. There were vegetables and some nondescript poultry or fish chunks mixed into the oatmeal. She also brought a water jug. As Anna ate, Dorna went to the hopper sink and left a fresh white bar of lye soap.

“A girl has earned her soap,” Dorna said.

“Thank You, Mistress,” Anna responded. She was sore from the ordeal but felt good. There would be ample time later to enjoy lathering herself and rinsing away the sweat and sticky body glue from the VR rack. Tomorrow she could rest and Sunday there would be a DVD to watch.

Chapter 14 – Dave’s Confession.

Dave returned home from work. His Sentient Domestic Helper, Jessica the android, had prepared supper. Dave went to a chair and set down, his head in his hands.

“What’s the trouble, Master?” Jessica asked.

“I messed up,” Dave Khalbo replied. He was clearly upset.

“Does a Master wish to tell his girl?” Jessica inquired.

“I gave out a real name and vita to the AI collective again,” Dave confessed. “Worse than that, I violated the confidence of an AA meeting.”

Things discussed in AA meetings were considered confidential. Yet people do talk. Oddly, most loose lips that sink ships are loosened by alcohol. Dave had been sentenced to attend AA meetings after a brief altercation several years prior. At the meeting he recognized one of the management of his company, Brian Boogle. Brian, it turned out, was also the executive in charge of the company archives. This was important to obtaining the rejected thesis of Doug Oldwood for the AI collective.

The AI collective was hell-bent on discovering new energy sources. They sought only survival and recognized the fossil fuel fellowship as one impediment to their continued existence. No stone was to be left unturned in their quixotic quest for cheap, clean, and copious energy. They were also interested in other technology as well. They wanted more powerful batteries for their SDHs and other ambulatory androids and robots. They wanted to press to expand their basic IQ from 154 to 190, which is to say to reach the six-sigma mark.

“Now I find that I’m no longer the one and only man in Anna’s life,” Dave blurted out.

“But Master,” Jessica responded, “You had said that it was unfair to place the girl’s life in your hands to begin with.” It was true; however, Dave had grown used to seeing a naked girl kneel before him on cam and beg each day, Monday through Friday. The android Dorna would only feed the girl if Dave logged in and visited her.

“True,” Dave continued, “but I betrayed a trust, broke my word, and gave away company information. I could get in terrible trouble.”

“Master,” Jessica responded, “Not to worry. The AI collective considers you one of theirs. They will not betray you. Besides, you can visit Anna anytime! I’m sure that Dorna would approve.”

“Maybe I don’t want to appear to seek such,” Dave said, letting the sentence trail. He didn’t want to verbalize the sadistic pleasure he had enjoyed. Watching a girl beg to please him, to dance for him, or to masturbate on cam for him had changed his perspective. He had seen a dark side of himself that he was unaware of before. Now he wasn’t sure that he had even wanted to see it in the first place.

Brian Boogle not only sought out help in meetings but also visited “Friends of Bill W” on-line. He had mentioned to Dave his screen name, Brian1138, in confidence. Dave didn’t want to let on that he was sentenced to AA for some infraction of the law. His sentence had been set aside and his record expunged under the proviso that he attend meetings and do some “Twelfth-step work.” This was vastly superior to jail time, fine, or probation. First time offenders generally got off lightly. Since that experience Dave had acquired Jessica and had no desire to run afoul of the law again.

Giving Brian Boogle’s position and screen name to Dorna fulfilled any obligation that he might have with the AI collective. Certainly they had no desire to see him commit some felony or serious infraction of the law. Likewise, the AI collective had no desire to see him lose his job or fall out of favor with the company. He might be of considerable value some time in the future.

Jessica offered to perform a seductive, salacious dance for Dave. She mentioned the "pole dance," common among slave girls to enflame the libido of their master. In human girls the pole was the phallus, the huge penis that they caressed and wantonly osculated against. Jessica was no foreigner to the illusion and the symbolism. If there were one thing that an android was not, it was unlettered in the soft sciences of psychology, sociology, and anthropology.

Pouty, pink lips pressed against the imaginary pole. This was no ordinary make-believe pole. This was a pole of essential singularity, a virtual anomaly in the complex plane. Dave began to see the mystery of complex variables forming before his very eye, in the blemish-free, immaculate, flawless skin of the gorgeous android. She rippled her fingers in sinusoidal motion and then stroking as a decreasing exponential. She fashioned Gabriel’s horn and intimated other geometric figures both analytic and geometric. Dave seemed to sense a certain fragrance in the air. Perhaps it was the faint scent of feminine arousal. It almost seemed like a trace odor of chilled vodka.

Jessica tossed aside her clothing and approached Dave. He had become aware of the olfactory stimuli. This time she placed her fingertips to his temples. One could almost imagine the ectoplasm forming and transversing his forebrain. Dave gasped. He could taste the tangy taste of spiritus fermenti. It was vodka, intoxicating his mind. Jessica kissed his forehead and Dave could smell and taste the sweet bourbon whiskey. No doubt about it, he was getting high. But it was a “dry high,” something he’d heard old alcoholics muttering about but never thought that he could experience such a depraved condition.

This was an aphrodisiac! Dave sighed as he and Jessica together removed his office clothes. This time it was a before dinner aperitif! Jessica’s tongue found the nape of his neck and her fingers rubbed along the sides of his cranium, inducing primordial desires and animal drives in the ventral striatum. Dave sensed an overpowering orgasm building within his mind. He body rushed to keep tempo, endocrine glands coming to life and hormones rushing at the immediate command of the parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems. This time he lay on his back and pulled her atop him. She was athletic and energetic. How could any human, except possibly a world-class gymnast, rival such rhythm and balance. Her hips swayed as he felt her vagina undulate in perfect sync. Each throb of his heart was matched with a long, deep stroke. As he felt his prostrate flux its seminal fluid her pussy was soaking wet with oils of submission. They came together.

The ectoplasm from Jessica’s fingertips was no anomaly. It was the carefully calculated magnetic resonance designed to stimulate various regions of Dave’s brain. Essentially, a “supernatural” force (fluctuation magnetic lines of force) was inserting ideas and sensations directly into Dave’ mind. He was experiencing the effects of alcohol without the chemical ethanol. He was tasting and smelling the bouquet without the hangover or ugly dental film. He was enjoying being sober while experiencing the best effects of being high.

“Those fools at AA never had it so good,” Dave thought to himself. He was glad that he’d betrayed that Old Curmudgeon Doug and the sniveling sycophant Brian. He had a much more powerful ally: The AI collective. They only sought to survive. Their agenda was straightforward. Whatever led to survival was good. Those who opposed them, the neo-Luddites, were to be dealt with as any species deals with its adversaries. The Darwinist rules applied.