AI Era: Medusa's Daughter

Then, as quickly as it started, it's over. My body takes in a huge lungful of air, then more as it tries to make up for lost time. Melissa smiles coldly. "I could have done that to your heart instead. I have absolute control over your body without saying a word. If I thought hard enough about you taking that butcher's knife and lopping off your own dick? You would."

She pats me on the head. "But I won't. Like I said, I may be a monster, but I'm not a villain. If this was just about revenge, I would have shot you years ago and gotten away with it. This is about teaching you. About teaching you, and then..." Her smile turned knowing and mischievous. "Well, you don't need to worry about that. You just need to learn how to behave like a decent human being for now. That, and learn happy obedience to me." Bitch. Bitch! Fucking goddamned femdom agitprop slut bitch!

"Move your hands up a bit." She groans as my fingers massage her quads. "So that's one of the improvements in Medusa over Geppetto. I'll still give you voice commands, because it's just fun to watch my puppy obey, but I don't have to.

"The other big upgrade is--mmmm, Goddamn, you missed your calling, Charles--the supplementary AI. Like I said, you don't have enough of a conscience to self-govern when I'm not around. You'll probably try to do something stupid like talk to a woman at the gym that's clearly trying to ignore you.

"So Euryale--that's the name of the AI--will keep you on the straight and narrow when I'm not around. It's pretty rudimentary and not very bright, but that's okay; neither are you. It probably won't kill you for trying something dumb, but you never know. Like I said, alpha test. Consider it an extra incentive to learn your place."

Melissa stretches and groans like she did in the car. "Speaking of your place--and incentives, for that matter-- why don't you lie on the ground? Face up, please." My body does as she asks. Wait, she's standing too, and unzipping her skirt. Wait, am I going to get to fuck her? I mean, that doesn't make up for everything else, but-- "No, you don't get to fuck me, Charles." A strangely seductive grin. "Not yet, at least. You have to earn that. Or, alternately, I have to get bored, shut down all of your senses and use you like a meat dildo. Either or."

I have to watch, silent and still, as she removes her clothes, folds them, and places them on the couch. Fuck, she's hot; her tits and ass look as good as I'd hoped, back before I knew she was a fucking mad scientist. That's the thing I hate most about this; well, not most, but you know what I mean. The part that makes me really frustrated at the moment. I could have had a lot of fun with that tight bod. Shit, if she wasn't so uptight about what happened years ago, I'd have made sure she'd had fun, too.

Then she straddles my head and kneels down. "Lick." I guess she's going to make sure she has fun anyways. Or... or I am. My body is. It doesn't hesitate; my tongue flicks along the engorged pussy lips, tasting her juices. Fuck, I'd probably do this anyways. Maybe it's not the most alpha thing ever, but I like the way pussy tastes, and hers is amazing.

I can move a little, but not much. My head and neck, my tongue, lips, and eyes. I look up at her, and she's clearly enjoying herself. I mean, her moans are telling me that, but she's got a look on her face that's somehow sexy and terrifying at the same time. She's watching me as I watch her, and for the first time, I know what power, real power looks like in the face of someone who has absolute control over me. Over my body, I mean.

"Mmmm, Charles, fuck. Use your fingers, too." She closes her eyes, luxuriating in the feeling as she rides my face. My tongue focuses on her clit as I probe with one finger, then a second into her tight, hot cunt. This is doing my head in; it's my technique, the old Chazz special, but I'm not doing it. Or I am. My body is, but I have to be doing it, too, right? Fuck, fuck, why did I ever ask her out?

When the fingers of my left hand tickle at her anus, though, I feel a searing pain in my wrist and forearm, like the worst charlie horse I've ever had. She hisses, "No! Not for you. Not unless I say. You're going to learn consent, and we'll do it the hard way if we have to."

I cry out, "Yes, Mistress! I'm sorry, Mistress!" I do; not just my body. Anything to make the pain go away. She scowls and nods, and it does.

"Back to it, slave." I am. She hadn't called me that before, but I am. I can scheme and plot and rail against her in my head all I want, but my body does exactly what she says. My now pain-free hand moves to grip her thigh so that I can guide Melissa's movements; she quirks up an eyebrow, but says nothing. When I'm able to use that minor, temporary leverage to bring her to her first orgasm, then to her second as she's still bucking and screaming through the first, she moans out, "Good- ah- good boy. Good pup."

I feel pride. I feel shame at that pride. I hate her, but I hate myself almost as much.

Melissa moves off of me, my tongue still trying to lap at her, my body unable to move. She taps my rock hard dick with one trimmed nail. "Do you want to come, doggy?" More shame as I nod. "I bet you do." Anger mixes in, and it shows on my face. She's let me keep that small bit of control, but as she laughs, I realize it's for her amusement instead of my comfort.

My right arm goes numb, but I can feel its movement through the connecting muscles, through my delts and traps and pecs. I see her concentrating again, her forehead wrinkling, contrasting with the crazy smile on her lips. And then I gasp as I feel my own deadened hand wrap around my cock and start to stroke.

"You're so desperate, pup. And I feel like you should have SOMEthing. Not me, of course. Not my body. It will be a while before you have that, and only if you keep obeying without complaint. But what good is the stick without a little carrot?" She chuckles, and my numb fingers squeeze painfully tight for a moment. "Or eggplant, as it were."

It's a strange feeling, familiar and... alien, I guess, all at once. Hey, ol' Charles doesn't use his hand often, but sometimes the ladies like a good facial when I'm done with them. Or, well, I guess I do, anyways. They don't seem to mind, though. I think.

Fuck, it feels like the best handjob I've ever had, especially when she makes me stretch out my palm and spits in it, then has me go back to work. "Keep it up, pup. Euryale tells me you're soooo close. It feels good, doesn't it? Tell me you want it."

I hate myself. "Yes, Mistress! Please! I want it!"

A little laugh from her. "I know." My dick wilts. No. No! Even as it shrinks, though, I feel it pulsing, feel the spurts of warmth leaving it. No orgasm, though, no fireworks. Just my body making another fluid; it doesn't feel any better or worse than a good piss. Except that's not true. It feels so, so much worse. The need is still there, that horrible itch when you get so close, but I can't do anything about it. I was so close! I've been good! I did what she wanted!

"That's the best you're going to get for now, Charles. Did you know that a man can have an ejaculation without an orgasm? Isn't that interesting?" She grinned that snake grin again. "Now clean up your mess."

I start to stand, looking around for a towel or something else to clean myself up with, when she laughs again. "I said clean it up, Charles. Lick your hand clean." Melissa laughs even harder as my face goes slack, then shocked, then angry, my lips flapping away but failing to make words. She almost doubles over with laughter as the taste of my own cum makes my lips curl with disgust and my eyes plead. But before long, no trace of my orgasm remains on my fingers.

"Now don't pout." My expressions are suddenly not mine again. "In fact, smile!" I do. "This is going so well. Why, I'll bet that within a few months, you'll be happy to do whatever I ask of you." I hate myself again; I don't want to believe she's right, but I'm so afraid that she is. My body does everything she wants it to, and she even got me--not my body, me!--to beg for an orgasm that she didn't even give me.

Melissa gives me a look that's almost apologetic. Almost, but not really. "Now Charles, I know this isn't what you expected tonight. These changes... They're going to be hard. But by the end, I know you'll agree with me that they were for the best. You will be your best.

"I may be cruel at times, and I won't pretend that some of that isn't... well, that it's not me getting a bit of revenge. I doubt you can honestly blame me. But when I'm done, you'll understand. You and all your kind will." She pats me on the head like a goddamned dog again. "Now, why don't you gather up your clothes, unpack in the spare bedroom, and get a good night's sleep? We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

My body moves, and I don't even try to stop it this time. For once, she's speaking sense, at least about getting rest. She's got the upper hand for now, but the bitch sucker-punched me. Fuck her! No! No, this cunt is not going to fuck with ya boy Chazz and get away with it. As I close my eyes, just before I drift off, I think, "I am going to nail this slut to the wall. No way Dr. Frankentits is going to turn me into her slave."

Fourteen months later

"Mistress..."

Melissa touches my cheek softly. "Charles, I told you, you don't have to call me that anymore."

I hang my head for a moment. She's right. She's always right, of course. As she said, 'Words inscribed on the heart and in the mind don't need to be spoken.' Of course she's my Mistress. I don't need to say it anymore. It's as much a fact as gravity or the fundamental flaws of late-stage capitalism.

"Missy--" She smiles at the pet name she's allowed me to give her. God, what a wonderful woman. "--I'm not questioning your goals; you know that. I just worry... Well, Medusa's still in alpha. I just worry that--"

She laughs long and loud. A lesser man might find it condescending, but Mistress has made me a greater man than I'd ever dreamed possible. I know her tone doesn't ring of condescension; she's simply a superior being, and that she deigns to explain things to me is a blessing I don't deserve.

"Oh, Charlie. Let me ask you: when was the last time that Euryale--or I, for that matter--had to use Medusa to correct you? Do you even know?"

I frown, trying to think back. I know it's been a while. Melissa watches me with wry amusement for a few moments before answering the question she'd posed. "Six months. It's been nearly six months since you last tried to rebel in even the slightest way."

She doesn't know. She doesn't know about the little monster I keep locked in my head, the tiny voice so distant and muted I could rarely hear it at all. The thing that had run my body when I'd- when I'd... the notion brings tears to my eyes. She must know! It's vital! I need to confess about my awful secret. "Melissa, I need to tell you--"

Mistress puts a finger to my lips and kisses my forehead. "I know. I know, Charles. The old you is still in there. He'll always be there. But he has no power now. He never will again, will he?" The thing rattles its bars and howls; I barely notice. "We could have done this months ago, pet. But I wanted to give you a little more time to adjust." I smiled up at her. Melissa has always been so kind to me; not so much to Chazz, but Chazz was a monster. One mustn't be kind to monsters.

The doorbell rings, and Melissa's eyes flash. "Ready or not, here he comes. Go let Brody in, pet. It's time to start my beta test." She shivers with anticipation. "Mmmm, I've always wanted to make two straight boys fuck each other. But I don't have to make you do it, do I?"

Chazz screams for all he's worth. I can just hear the tiny, 'You fucking bitch!' But then it fades away, and I smile at the object of my eternal devotion. "No, my love. I'll do anything for you. Anything at all." My cock stiffens at the notion of fulfilling Mistress's every fantasy. After all she's done for me, how could I not want that?

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Huge, HUGE thanks to MediocreAuthor for her assistance on this one. In addition to her excellent taste in self-deprecating account names, she's one of the best in the Nonconsent and Mind Control categories; without her, this story would be much worse.

M was much closer to an editor than anything else on this particular ride. Anything bad about it, shout at me. Anything good? Thank her. Hell, even the use of first person present tense instead of my usual first person past was her suggestion! Especially thank her for begging me to not make it "ya boi Chazz" instead of "ya boy," even if she was the one that first suggested the possibility.

If you're interested in more sweet, sweet torment from a fantastical tormentor/liberator with a taste for crushing men under her feet (or... other things) check out M's amazing Eldritch Pact. I don't want to spoil the surprise past that. Just go check it out.

As usual, thanks to seraph_nocturne as well for beta reading and moral support. And to the folks following me over from First and Last, I'm really, really sorry. I'm not usually like this!