Chrome Finish -- ER252n

This is primarily a science fiction story, but it is also just one of a number of variations on a single story. All of the variations are basically the same, so you can read whichever most appeals to you. They are named in a fashion to make choosing the version you prefer easier.

In each title is a "serial number." That number begins with a letter that signifies the object of desire in the story. The choices are E=employer, A=assistant, F=father, D=daughter, B=brother, and S=sister. At the end of the serial number is a lowercase n (non/consent) or c (consensual). Lastly, some stories end with an uppercase G (the nature of the instigating character is basically good) or B (the fantasizing character is basically bad). Stories that do not end with an uppercase letter to not have variations in the nature of the instigating character.

For early readers... I can only release one story per day (Literotica rule), so if you don't see the version you want to read, just wait. There are a total of 12 versions in all. The available versions will be: BR490n, SR278n, FR737c, BR559c, SR353cB, SR351cG, DR526nB, DR588nG, DR585c, FR252c, AR526n, ER252n.

This story, ER526n, is the non-consent version where the mature employer desires his much younger personal assistant.

— The Author

It stood in the foyer, glistening chrome, overly sleek, yet bulbous in strange places, like a piece of retro-art, a fifty year old vision of what the future would hold, yet now so far from the mark as to appear comical. Still, it was his first commercial success, and so in a way was the keystone of the entire mansion that surrounded it.

Tyler Eugene McClintock was a powerful man, because he was very, very smart. He knew how to do things. He knew how to make things. He knew how to get what he wanted. Most importantly, he knew how to get other people to do things for him.

Cynthia Marie Landloche was very young, yet more than the most competent of personal secretaries. She was part administrative assistant, part financial wizard, part manager, and part punching bag. No matter how good she was at her job, and no matter how much competence she demonstrated in how many varied, unusual areas of expertise, her boss couldn't and wouldn't leave her alone. He could always find fault, or, if need be, create a situation in which she had to fail. He always had a way to berate, belittle and demean her. He made sure of it.

The mansion had one of the most elaborate and sophisticated security systems in the world. Much of it was custom designed by T. E. McClintock himself, and it was supplemented by a well trained, well paid security force. It would keep out any intruder.

It would protect them from everyone but themselves.

* * *

"Mr. McClintock, oh, God, stop! Please, sir..."

He held her squirming form down with his bulk. His fingers dug harshly into her flesh, rubbing the skin too tightly, feeling like the indian burn that your bully of a big brother always teased you with as a kid. But this was no game.

His pants were loosened, pulled down around his thick, hairy, muscular thighs. She felt his bare cock, concrete hard, pressing against her leg, right at the edge of her panties. One massive hand tore at their fabric, peeling them back. She heard them tear.

"Please, sir, no."

His other hand held both of hers together by the wrists, painfully wrenched behind her back and beneath them both. His bulk smothered hers. She smelled the sweat of his exertions, mingled with his expensive cologne. He grunted as he struggled to force her into submission. She writhed and twisted, but he was too strong.

Her cries had devolved into whimpers as she realized that she couldn't stop him. He was going to take what he wanted. He was going to take her.

She clenched her eyes shut as his cock was shoved up inside of her.

* * *

He had been hammering into her with the insistent repetition of a machine for what seemed like days. In and out, over and over, he fucked her ruthlessly. She tried not to smile at the deliciously, wickedly luscious feel of it all. It was what she'd paid for. It was perfect.

She almost wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

It was amazing what they could do these days with silicone, carbon filaments, and pseudo-synaptic dense-layer neuro-arrays.

She'd been embarrassed to hand her request sheet to the freckled redhead behind the desk. That receptionist, or clerk, or whatever she was, had been even younger than Cyndi. How could they have someone that young at the desk receiving and checking simuloid sexual engagement request forms?

Cyndi had wrongly assumed that she'd be granted some level of privacy. No such luck. The girl's eyes immediately jumped to and scanned the most private areas of the form. She soon wrinkled her nose, raised her eyebrows, then smiled back, eyes twinkling.

"Ooh, a rape fantasy. I always wanted to try one of those. Not that I'll ever be able to afford it. But you didn't select the model subtype. And we'll need at least fifteen photographs of the guy to accurately reproduce the likeness."

* * *

Tyler's cock felt as if it was being gripped and squeezed by the hot, moist velvety insides of a virgin, which was absurd, because his secretary was nothing of the sort. The little slut had been sucking or laying both of the usual messenger boys, Randy and that other one, at least five times a week for the past year. And he knew what they did. He'd watched the security tapes.

He'd even fired two guards on his security force for fucking her when they were supposed to be on perimeter duty, although she'd talked him into hiring Frank back. Tyler really couldn't blame the guy. The hot little minx seduced anything with a bulge between the legs, and when she went after a guy, her hot, sluttish little body was hard to resist.

He clenched his eyes shut as his cock pushed into his assistant's pussy, and he held himself there, deeply, totally embedded, relishing the feel of her. He squeezed one tit in each hand, tightly, painfully, half twisting each of them as she squealed. It was what she wanted. It was all detailed in her engagement request.

"Mr. McClintock, please," she whimpered, sobbing. "Please, stop."

As soon as she pleaded with him to end it, he renewed his thrusts, hammering his whorish little assistant as hard as he could with her boss's strong, marauding, insatiable cock.

"Take my cock, Cyn, you bitch. Take my cock and love it, you cock loving little whore."

He was enjoying this far more than even he had expected.

* * *

The simuloid stood, immobile and inoperative, just inside the compound gate. No androids could ever get by his security systems. Tyler had designed half of those systems himself. He was the only person in the world who really could, because he'd also designed half of the android's systems, as well.

He paid others to design and build the rest. He just did the hard parts that no one else could do.

He was a fucking genius, the world's premier robotics and systems expert. Before him, robots had been like glorified toasters.

McClintock Industries designed and built mechanoids, androids, and simuloids for every purpose, industry and situation where someone was willing to pay. Given the history of the world, it should not have come as a surprise that sex was one of the most common, and the most lucrative, applications for the necessarily elaborate but ultimately very effective simuloid technology.

This particular simuloid had created quite a stir among his security force, because it was caught sneaking into the compound, and it looked just like him. He'd expected it to take some time to sort out its programming and objective. It should have had heavy encryption. The perpetrator should have covered his tracks well. But tracking down the source of the intruder was easy, because it had an easily identified set of serial numbers. It had come from his own company, straight out of the Sexual Fantasies division.

It was all there in the corporation's IT systems. The silly little girl fantasized about being raped by her boss. It was what she wanted, it was what she'd paid for with the money that he had paid to her for her own services, and that was just what was going to happen. Tyler knew exactly how to take advantage of an opportunity, and he got where he was by never missing a chance.

* * *

She felt so good with his cock inside of her. The sheer strength and power of his body, the sinful truth of it, everything was overwhelming. Cyndi had come twice already, harder than she ever had before, and now the orgasms were threatening to come in bunches.

"Oh, God, fuck, your cock is so big," she screamed as he filled her with it again.

"You fucking whore," he barked back. "It's the biggest, sweetest fucking cock you'll ever have. Your boss loves fucking you, Baby, and he loves taking your sweet, tight, little twat with his big fucking cock."

His hot breath bathed her ear as he growled the words straight into it, just before his slimy tongue forced its way in behind the words, like another invading, raping cock.

He moaned then. She felt his body tensing. She knew that he was ready to come.

Cyndi grinned while grabbing her boss's taut ass, digging her own nails into his naked flesh. She was going to hold him inside of her as tightly as she could. She was damned well going to make sure that he would come inside of her.

She'd paid for the glorious experience, and she wanted it all.

* * *

Tyler fought the urge. He knew what the purchased program had said. He knew how it was supposed to play out. He could do it. He should do it, to stay true to the program. He should come inside her.

But he shouldn't. She was his employee. He was fucking his beautiful assistant. He was raping his beautiful assistant. He was going to come inside of his beautiful assistant.

"Mr. McClintock, no, don't come inside me, Tyler, no, please..."

Her words were pushing him closer to the brink.

He shouldn't do it, but he wanted to. Her pussy felt so silky sweet and tight around his cock. It grabbed at him, even has her petite hands clawed frantically at his ass. It was rape, she pretended, even as she wantonly struggled to keep his cock inside of her.

He wondered how she'd be acting if she knew.

"Please, sir, please, please."

He thrust his cock deeply into her as he felt the cum surging into his shaft. His mouth fell on hers. His lips covered hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. He convulsed with unrestrained, incomparable pleasure as his cock poured its seed into this sweet little girl's heavenly body, while he kissed her like the little whore that he wanted her to be for him.

The thought of it made his mind up for him.

She tore her mouth away to moan as his cock jerked.

"Oh, God, Tyler, yes, yes, yes."

* * *

Cynthia was never in control. She was always under someone's thumb, first her parent's, then her teacher's, and then her boss's. Any control she had was indirect. Any control she exercised required subtly, and shrewdness, and a lot of forethought. She wasn't ever the boss.

But she knew things. She was smart. She knew how robots worked. She knew how the house security systems worked. She knew how the business worked, along with all of its information systems. She knew how people worked.

And she knew how her boss worked.

It was all about anticipation. It was all about knowing what would happen next, and how people would react, and then what they would do next.

It was all about planning and anticipation, and being able to get people to do what you want them to do, because it's already what they want to do, too.

Cyndi lounged by the pool, sipping her mohito, wondering how far she could take it, or even if she wanted to take it any further. She could blackmail him. She could try it again. She could just tell him that she knew.

* * *

Cyndi was a happy girl, because she was very, very smart. She knew how to do things. She knew how things worked. She knew how to arrange things. She knew how to get what she wanted. Most importantly, she knew how to get her bastard of a boss to do anything for her.