_Automata #05 Cyber-buttplug

_Automata 05

This is my first SciFi erotica series called '_Automata'. This involves a slave girl forced into a BDSM relationship with a cyborg after a robot apocalypse. See 'Girls Submission to AI in Latex.' https://literotica.com/s/girls-submission-to-ai-in-latex for the beginning.

All characters are over 18 years of age; please respect the author's copyright. This is a work of fantasy. Please don't try a robot apocalypse at home.

_Previously_

So far, Jenny, Joe, and Kalya were trapped with many others, in a machine training camp. They are under the machines' brutal domination, being twisted to the machines' will. They are overseen by an AI called Sovereign and another called Mistress. They have discovered that machines only need people for two reasons--their dreams and sensual service. Once they are fully compliant, they will be sold to other machines for their pleasure. Escape seems impossible, as they are wearing 'smart' collars. Collars that also track everything they say, they do, and where they go.

Trigger warnings: butt plug, blowjob

If you want to jump directly to the action, go to _Blowjob r0b0t 5tyle_

_SALLOW w0m8_

Life for those trapped in the sallow womb, which the inmates called 'the tower,' continued. Days, then weeks, were consumed. They passed between tuition by a crew of beautiful sadists, lessons on obedience, and then bed. Bed to sleep a dull, listless, dreamless night. A night spent surrendering their dreams to the machines.

"Well, that was almost useful," Jenny said, emerging from one of the joint lectures. She, like many of the other slaves wore a harness over her ebony latex catsuit. The machines used clothing to give status. A harness would confer a minor and meaningless advantage. It forced a new social hierarchy, with obedience as its only measure and virtue.

While Jenny spoke, she looked at the lower half of her left wrist's metal shackle. The stainless steel shackle was quite broad and heavy. Every time she moved her hands, she was reminded of her servitude. The inside was a padded sheath. On the outside, a barcode and some LEDs. Glowing through the metal was a scattering of numbers and letters.

Early on, the slut-new meat had seen a demonstration of what would happen if the Wifi reached zero. The collar and the shackles would start flashing. Then after an audible alarm and warnings, the collar exploded. Then they saw this happening with the battery strength. Then again, finally, when they left the geofenced areas in the tower. So now, they all watched the indicators like new mothers to their first child.

One larger number was the time, or at least a number representing the machine time. The time, Jenny discovered, was not to be depended upon. The machines could speed up or slow down the progress of time to their whim. Other numbers existed; one was a step counter. The machines forced them to do 10,000 steps a day, but the others had remained a mystery.

"Useful, how?" asked Joe.

Joe was now wearing the standard slut-shiny-latex catsuit they all wore. Mistress had introduced Joe to the art of tucking. He was now wearing something called a gaff, which helped his junk get hidden from sight. His hair had been dyed a cyan color, and he looked pretty good. He hadn't quite got the voice right, and came over as a slave version of Elizabeth Anne Holmes. When quiet, Jenny had to concentrate hard not to think of him as a woman. He was an absurdly hot girl, the sort who would have never been seen dead talking to a nerd like her at school.

Apart from Kim, Kayla, and Jenny, none of the other sluts knew about Joe. Partly because the four didn't interact with the others a huge amount. Many of the other sluts were tough to talk with. They were strangely getting into the whole slut thing. Many would only use their slut names now. The road to surrender was what most of them wanted to talk about. It was like a devil's conversion therapy was going on, and their tight group was the only one immune. It was hard to fault people; daily repeating orgasms would concentrate anyone's mind. They all showed the tunnel vision of someone shooting down a long, steep, unlit water flume ride. Shooting inevitably to the infinite cold, dark void below. The effect hardly made for agreeable conversation.

"Okay, well, for a start, I learned about the different kinds of masters we could be sold to," Jenny continued. "Super smart Artificial Intelligences, who fill buildings and need hundreds of sluts. They are about as smart as high-Cyborgs who are part human, part machine, and also need slut hordes. Way behind them in terms of brains are the Immortals. The humans who sold us out and are turning into immortal uploads. They need at least one slut to dream each, but they like more. At the same level, in terms of brains, are the robots; each one needs a slut. I still don't get who the Cyberians are."

"They hate us and don't have sex or need us to sleep for them, so you don't have to worry about them. They never buy us. They have human-level brains. You just have to obey them in public," Kayla said, looking around. "So, what are you looking at?"

"Well," Jenny began, "the other useful bit was the info on your shackle screen. Eye... this slut never got it before. So this number is the ID of the highest bidder. Hey, look, I have one. I didn't notice that before. Someone called j0n35:I. I wonder who that is?"

Kayla grabbed Jenny's arm to have a look. "Yeah, you're right. Some machines like to mark their territory early. Well done."

"Wow, I've now--" said Joe, getting a punishment and flinching. "This slut has got the same j0n35:I?"

The relentless personal pronoun aversion therapy was slowly grinding their minds down; smoothing them like stones in a strong stream. Sometimes, even they said 'this slut' when they didn't need to.

"Hey," added Joe, "the last letter is the letter after 'H'. Stands for Immortal. We are being sold to some human sell-out. I think of all of them, this slut hates them the most. The machines you can kind of understand. You can hate them but not blame them. The people--they had a choice. They are just plain evil."

Kayla went over to look at Joe's arm. She lifted the metal handcuff up to read the name. Jenny noticed the furtive glances and firm smiles, they passed subtly between them.

"Maybe they are not so bad. You never know," Kayla said.

"This 'glut' doesn't don't know if this 'glut' should congratulate you," Jenny said.

Jenny had discovered the censor didn't hear perfectly. It didn't punish them if you were close enough to the word. She knew if she were caught doing this by a robot or AI, it would punish her harshly. Her desire to bypass the algorithms controlling them was too powerful to resist.

Kim, AKA EchoEight, joined them. She was quiet now, anger always in her eyes. She had been moved to a minimum Level Four for 'vocal violations', so now she just said nothing.

"Well," Kayla began while looking at her arm, "it looks like you are being sold to the same person...and so is this slut. So glass half full, we will be together and not get a stun bolt to the head."

A small crowd of male-sluts left the lecture hall together. They all still wore hoods, but had adjusted to the anonymity and conformity it induced. The men passed a couple of the ghosts' shadows, who stood motionless and silent, watching the men march.

"Thanks for sugarcoating that," Joe said, then he jumped, "hey, leave my ass alone," he added to the small crowd of men passing by. They ignored him and walked off. They all had hoods and were generally indistinguishable from each other. So it was impossible to know who did what.

"Hey, K--SixSix. What is the last number? The five, the one with the heart next to it?" Jenny asked.

Kayla looked over. "That's your behavior, mark. It's like if you have been favorited or upvoted."

"Like a sticker chart," Jenny said.

"Sort of. Except at school, they didn't kill the kid with the lowest mark," Kayla explained. "No, not in my school anyway."

"Sounds important. So, how do you get stickers?" Kim asked, looking at her wrist and noticing she had zero hearts and no owner.

"Lots of different ways," Kayla explained. "Later, you can give a vote to other sluts for someone doing something you think is good. The trick is never to give a vote of four or fewer. If you do, it lowers the average; it's far worse than not voting. The censor can also get a few points for repeating the slogans, saluting other slaves, that kind of thing. They will do a class on this at some point. Reporting someone else's misbehavior always adds big points. It's like one of those reports of inappropriate material buttons you get on websites. With an incentive for you to actually do it."

"Did anyone hear that?" Jenny asked, looking up.

"Hear what?" Kim said.

"Kind of like whispering? Really faint, like the building is talking. This slut keeps hearing that in the quiet moments." Jenny said.

"This slut gets that sometimes," Joe said, then looked at Kayla, "and don't say you get used to it."

Kayla shrugged. "New to this slut," she said, denuded of her favorite phrase.

Kayla looked at her wrist. "That's the call for training. See you later," she said, strutting off.

"The whispering is probably a side effect of the bone-conducted hearing. The one that your collar uses to talk to you. Your brain fills in sounds when it's not active," Joe said, watching Kayla leave.

More men were walking past. "For a pretty girl like you, you sound really smart. What were you before the war, a kindergarten teacher or something?" one of them said. He had 5203 on his masked head. He wasn't very broad in the shoulders, but had that electro-abs-fit look, they all had. He was naked from the waist up, except for the hood and studded harness.

"No, she was a model," Jenny said. "Turns out not only do they do their own makeup, but they also have to know about electronics to set up the lighting."

"I never knew that," the male-slut 5203 said, not getting Jenny's joke and walking away.

Jenny narrowed her eyes at him. After he was out of earshot, she pressed the button on her collar. It turned out that a long press summoned Cortona. If you held the button on the smart speaker in your collar, you could talk to the central grand censor.

"Report 5203 for the use of a personal pronoun just now," Jenny said. While she spoke to her collar, it muted her, so the others didn't hear, but she repeated it to them anyway.

"Checking," her collar said.

A second later, they watched 5203, and some others were walking away. He jittered as he got stung. The girls giggled slightly at the sight.

"Level Four?" Joe asked.

Jenny's arm vibrated. She looked at the shackle, and noticed five heart points had been added to her behavior score.

"Nice," Joe said, looking while Jenny showed the shackle.

"That was a bad idea," Jenny said to the others. "This slut means they are outsourcing our oppression to us, and this slut fell for it. From now on, they can do their own dirty work. I'm not reporting anyone."

They all paused for a second.

"Orders telling you where to go?" Jenny said, when the personal announcement stopped.

Joe nodded. "This slut, too. See you later."

__CABINET OF d3spa1r__

There was a digital knock, and Mistress unlocked the door. Joe came in, followed closely by Savatrix, the robot guard. As Joe entered, he noticed Mistress was playing some club music. She smelt of a new perfume; it smelt of danger and the sweetness of death with a hint of jasmine. Mistress was standing behind a mixing desk. She pulled a pair of huge boss headphones down around her neck. She smiled a genuine smile and walked forwards into the set of a mock hotel room she had arranged in the dungeon.

"Oh, DeltaSeven," Mistress said, with a pleasing voice, "and you managed to do your makeup, well done. See, you're learning."

Joe knew better than to say he had sat for hours before a training mirror putting makeup on. Taking it off and putting it on again, exactly the way the mirror told him to. Every time he got it wrong, he was punished more severely.

Mistress came up, half-air-kissed Joe, and sniffed the air. "Chanel No. 9," Mistress began, "good choice, but it doesn't say slut enough for me."

Joe knew the rules of the game and didn't say anything.

"Over there before the white oval chair, dog down seven," Mistress instructed, locking the door behind him and randomizing the code.

During their detention, the machines had been teaching the sluts various commands. There were twenty standard kisses and over a hundred positions to have sex in. Each one had a number. This meant the machines could just roll out a number, and the slut-units would move to the position. The position numbers were being drummed into them in practice after practice. Brutally rehearsed, hammered in over and over like a thick nail into dense oak.

_Blowjob r0b0t 5tyle_

Joe went over and got down on his hands and knees, facing the washing machine-sized white oval egg. Mistress came over, and used a couple of quick chains to keep Joe's wrists and ankles firmly tied to the ground.

"Time to learn something new, slut," Mistress said.

Walking behind the oval, Mistress turned it around. Joe looked the huge oval egg turned out to be a large spinning chair. An oval side was cut out, and sitting cross-legged inside was Kayla. She tried not to show any flicker of emotion. The machines could bring along playmates if they wanted, and Mistress certainly wanted. Over her standard latex catsuit, Kayla was wearing a loose, bulky business suit. She didn't have a shirt on, but did have a dress-shirt collar and necktie over her metal control collar.

"See, I've made this easy," Mistress said. She tapped the monolithic-faced Kayla on her shoulder." A fintech business droid is tired after working so long and bought you for the night. To begin the night, we are going to start with a little of this."

Mistress knelt down and opened Kayla's legs to reveal a gap in the pinstripe. Emerging from the gap was a large smooth double-ended dildo. One end was held by a harness and lodged firmly up Kayla's smooth vagina. The other end emerged like a black rhino's horn standing between her spread legs.

"We've been over this in training with the others. You know what to do. So why don't you show your friend how good you are?" Mistress said. Then bent down then whispered, "and if she doesn't cum I'm going to punish her and you on Level Six until she does."

Mistress landed back, "Ph, and you bad girl, you forgot to remind me to move you up a notch. You really are a very naughty bad girl. I'm going to punish you for this."

Mistress got up and walked over to a drawer. It slid silently open, and in its care, she pulled out a strange, organically shaped black mushroom. Mistress's latex-covered hands pushed a dispensing bottle. The bottle was in the shape of a breast. She squeezed it to get a generous covering of lubricant over it. Rubbing the butt plug in it, she went over. She pulled down the zip between Joe's legs.

Mistress could be very ruthless and wasn't shy about punishing Joe for not obeying.

Joe flexed, as Mistress reached down and lubricated his ass with her latex-gloved hand.

Kayla struggled to keep her composure. She looked at the panic in Joe's eyes. She couldn't help, but could try to show pity and encouragement. She wanted to say they all had one in them; it was something he could handle.

Mistress orbited the new plug around Joe's asshole.

"Now, this is the last time I'm going to do this for you." Mistress said, "Next time, I want to watch, as you push this up your whore ass like the good little girl you are. You know you don't like to see me upset, do you?"

As she did, she pushed it into Joe's flesh, harder and harder.

"You have such a perfect ass, as well," Mistress continued. "It's like a pair of lamb chops; no, I'm wrong--so smooth, round, perfectly formed like a pair of balloons capable of giving a man a hard-on. Your ass is so destined for this. Now it's time for your treatment, so open wide."

As she spoke, she pushed the new larger plug up Joe's ass. Joe was trembling at the touch of the moist plug on his bare ass. Joe emitted a redacted moan, as Mistress pushed the shaft into his tight hole. Kayla saw Joe's heavily made-up eyes expand, when the ridges moved past his tight sphincter.

Kayla knew Mistress would lace the butt plug. It was saturated with a cocktail of viagra, amphetamines, MDMA, and addictive drugs. They were powerful drugs that were able to screw his mind totally. The problem wasn't getting the plug up his backside; it was getting it out later. The tumbledown would be a vast pit to climb out from, until the next butt plug. Mistress was using a chemical crowbar to crack his mind. He was losing control, surrendering to the cognitive contamination. Kayla felt her eyes becoming moist.

"Shit," Joe thought, as he began to tremble.

"Connected," Mistress said, wiggling the machine dick emerging from Kayla's warm moist pussy. As she did, the plug up Joe's ass vibrated and warped inside him.

"Now, slut," Mistress began to Joe, "you're going to give this nice gentleman the blowjob to blow his mind, aren't you?"

Then she leaned down and whispered to the earring in Joe's ear. "If she doesn't come, I'm going to blow her brains out. She's a return, and no one likes drinking from a used paper cup."

"Now get to it," Mistress said, loudly.

Joe wasn't sure about the threat. The robots were callous, petty, and dangerous. They killed the weak and least obedient. No one had died yet, but another return he had met told him that she knew someone who had been killed before her.

Joe opened his mouth and looked up at Kayla's chest to her puffy eyes.

"I love you," he silently mouthed.

For a second, Kayla was dumbfounded. Looking deep into the mascara-circled eyes below, she knew he wasn't lying.

"Me too," Kayla found herself mouthing while her brain thought of something she could say.

Joe's mouth started to kiss the tip of the mechanical dick. He began to tongue it. While he did, the vibrating plug began to mine inside his shiny, spread cheeks. Kayla, too, began to flex, and the cyber-dildo mirrored the signals it felt in her pussy. It had been a bad day, and she might have gone home and had a slave kiss her velvet pussy out in frustration. It was hard to live in the carnival of flesh, and not feel a little turned-on. She had been moist when Mistress had called for her.

Rather than launching fully at her cyber dick, Joe had approached it slowly, calmly, and lovingly. The tension built up in her. The plug buried in his backside also responded to his moves.

Mistress pushed the music faster. Joe heard a dance version of 'Temptation' by Heaven Seventeen. He began to move his ruby red lips over Kayla's grey-brown cyber-shaft. Kayla felt this immediately ripping through her cunt. Whatever he did, she felt ten times over.

"Harder, faster, louder, pussycat. Kill, kill, kill," Mistress said, bobbing behind the mixing desk.

The beat became more insistent, drilling into your brain. She started to play a techno-dance version of 'Relax' by Franky Goes To Hollywood.

Kayla looked down to see Joe's manhood was now out on display, hanging half down. It was quite solidly alone. Inside, the butt plug was solidly vibrating against his 'g-spot', as Mistress called it. His g-spot was, through Mistress's considerable use, very sensitive. Joe was enjoying this, too.

Joe's large, red lips began to move up and down Kayla's dick. At the same time, the plug began feeling like it was thrust in and out of Joe's ass. Inside Kayla, she also had the digital sensation of the dildo pumping inside her. Her pussy lips were hot. She kept looking down at Joe, who would only look up and give a devilish grin. He ran his hands up and down her thighs. Kayla's skin became taut with goosebumps.