Human Android Ch. 06

John rolled back the towel down her back, leave her partially uncovered. It had been a surprise she agreed to a massage, as she had always been dismissive of alternative therapies, and denied the benefits of healing arts. He was even more surprised she wasn't wearing underwear.

"This is your hour. I am here for you. All you need do is relax," he recited, with hands smoothing oil into her back. It was as calming for him as it would be for her, though he was surprised how quickly she had relaxed, considering how uptight she usually was.

He admired the smooth look and feel of her flesh with a professional eye.

The hands were strong and proficient, unlike Larry's massage that morning. This wasn't meant to be arousing, so was it because of that earlier massage she was become excited? His strong hands massaged oil from her feet, up her legs, and over her thighs. She moaned out loud.

"That's it, let it all out, all the troubles are floating away," he whispered. John misjudged the expression of arousal, thinking it was an exhalation of stress. He moved to her head, with both large hands firmly wrapped around it.

She was about to tell him to be careful, only it was too late. Anne felt a familiar numbness in her head, announcing the implant was ready. She opened her mouth to tell him to switch it off, only to hear something monstrous emerge.

"How do you want me, sir," she quietly said.

She had been able to talk to her husband, telling him what not to do, or to try something else for a change, even when the damn thing was on. It was evident that a lot of control over the implant had been lost, leaving her helpless. She had been warned about using it too much, but what choice had she, when it was being switched on by accident so often.

She was supposed to be safe here. At least her uncle wouldn't tell her she was a slut, like that stupid football player had. Those dreadful programs that had been run in her mind too often. She knew now that even without the implant, the slut game was influencing her behaviour, otherwise why would she have stripped off like this?

"Turn over," he quietly spoke.

Anne was so flustered she turned over onto her back, before adjusting the towel.

John stood there with the towel in his hands looking at a young naked woman. The candlelight flickered, reflecting in the oil, bouncing a kaleidoscope of colours over her naked flesh. Her large breasts were sitting up ready to be massaged.

Anne felt her thighs fall open and she moaned in consternation as well as from the mounting heat of her sex. She was waiting for him to tell her which game to play. In dismay she could sense already being primed to play at being a slut, yet that wasn't the default game. What was going wrong, for surely the default program should prime her to be his maid.

What would he think of her playing at being a sexy maid? Even that was preferable to being a slut which seemed to be underlying her behaviour, even when not under the influence of the implant. That thought shook her. She tried to tell him it wasn't her fault; it was that damn implant, yet again!

"What did you say, Anne?" John asked. He was bemused for this wasn't like his wife's niece that he remembered. He hadn't seen her in a long time and who knew what she got up to in a university. He had heard stories about wild sex parties in dormitories but had dismissed it as wishful thinking.

"I'm ready for you Uncle," she moaned.

Her husband had left her, so maybe she hadn't had sex in a long time. The massage must have pushed her over the edge. With her legs splayed, it was easy to see she was ready. He hesitated, not knowing what to do. It had been a long time for him too. Taking no chances he thought to make sure he wasn't making a big mistake.

"What am I to do with you?" he asked, trying to sound calm.

"Anything you desire. I am you're sexy maid, ready to pleasure you," she sighed. The inevitability of it all, left her cringing on the inside, and the state of obvious excitement, left her humiliated. Knowing it was true, she would do anything to please him, was crushing.

So she likes to play games like Agatha! It must ne a trait that ran in the family. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a sex game, and he wondered how far she was willing to go.

"On your knees before me maid," he commanded. The heavy, masterful tone of voice was still strong after all these years.

"Yes, Sir," she answered. Despite feeling humiliated, the slut in her sounded enthusiastic. Anne slid off the table, onto the floor, immediately posturing before him on her knees. The maid program would have waited for further orders but the deeply embedded slut game led her on. Without waiting for instructions she unzipped his jeans and dragged out his cock.

"Wait! You're too eager, you're behaving like a slut, not a maid," he reprimanded her. He years of experience playing games and it was all coming back to him. He looked down at her where she held on to his cock, looking up with a look of pleading in her eyes.

Anne heard those fateful words with a sense of anguish at the inevitability of what was to come. Her uncle had summoned the slut program to reinforce the already strong influence on how to behave.

The maid game was saucy and naughty but this was down right vulgar. As soon as he was finished with her she would run to her room and switch off that damnable implant. It was unlikely to be invoked again while here, giving her a chance to recover, and regain some resistance to it.

John looked at the young woman, so eager to suck him off. If she was so easily turned on, and ready to play sexy games, he would have some fun with her. He could feel the old vitality flooding into his loins. The toys and fetish clothing would have to be brought out of the cellar, and dusted off.

"You may pleasure your master," he commanded. No sooner had he spoken than she gobbled him up with an eagerness that surprised him. He was pleased to realise maturity meant being in control, enough to make the pleasure last. He was looking forward to playing with this young, big breasted woman.

John lent back against the massage table watching her work on his cock. She seemed desperate to suck him off. Her hands were working his cock and balls with skill enough to tell him this wasn't the first time. He would have to teach her some patience. He leant forward to pinch her nipples. She looked up at him with a thankful look, though it was hard to tell, with her mouth distorted out of shape, around his large swollen cock.

"Enough!" he ordered. "You're an eager slut. Lets look at how wet your cunt is," he said. She was bemused by this, unsure what to do, confirming her inexperience. "Sit on the floor. Grab you ankles and lean back. Spread your legs," he said.

Anne groaned, with the humiliation of it. When she heard herself groan she realised it was not that, it was from frustration. She wanted his cock! She needed to taste his sperm. The lewd position he had her in, showing off her sex, was of little concern, compared to the deep seated need. That worried her!

He knelt between her legs and ran a finger across her lips to emphasise how wet she was. "You really are a wanton slut! You want my cock badly don't you? Tell me," he told her.

"I want your cock," she said, through heavy breaths that lifted her large breasts with every gasp of air.

"That's not good enough, tell me how much you want my cock," he demanded.

"Oh!" she wailed, not knowing if it was the sound of lust or despair. "I need your cock, please, fuck me with your big fat cock. I'm a desperate slut, desperate to be filled with your cock, please fuck your little pathetic slut, Sir," she whined.

He moved a wet finger to circle her brown ring. "Have you had a cock in your asshole?" he asked.

"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir. It's all yours, if you want it," Anne replied, in a whisper. This had always been off limits, whenever her husband played with her, and to be offering it now was shocking. Anne was appalled to find how low her morals had sunk; it frightened her to think that not a shred of decency was left.

"Perhaps later," he smiled. He rested back on the floor with an aged grunt. "Ride my cock and pleasure me," he told her.

It was shameful to do so, though more humiliating to find such keenness, that she scrambled onto him in a hurry. She straddled his thighs scrabbling for that special hardness she needed to satisfy a deep craving. Lifting her crotch, she guided her cunt over its head then slid her whole body onto it. Her vagina seemed to devour it, like a starving creature.

As though she were pumping up a deflated fuck doll, her breaths blew noisily between gritted teeth with each thrusting action. Up and down she bounced on him, harder and harder, until he grabbed her tits.

"Slow down, slut, make it last," he advised her.

Yet again the slut program was being summoned by that single dreadful word, when he called her a slut. Anne obeyed. It was appalling, knowing he was using her like a fuck doll for his pleasure. The humiliation of it excited her so much, she wanted to let loose, with a deep needed orgasm. The implants rules were so strong, they kept her obeying him. She was his slut, ready to enthusiastically obey his every command.

At last she felt his cock jerk inside her pussy. She had to cum now! "Please, let me cum," she grunted, like a rutting hog.

"Go for it slut!" he laughed.

Anne shook her head from side to side, whipping her hair in wide circles about her head. "Thank you, Sir, thank you for letting me cum," she cried out, in delirious pleasure. She slowed to a halt sitting on his deflating cock, grudgingly feeling it leave her vagina.

John reached up to her breasts taking them in his hands, gripping them tight as though squeezing the last of the orgasm from her body. He lifted her off him by those bountiful tits to lay her next to him. He moved in close to look her at her.

"You may be a college professor but you fuck like a wanton little slut. While you're here I shall keep you busy. Instead of you teaching I shall be teaching you a thing or two, for a change," he smiled.

Her eyes were half closed, recovering from a deeply satisfying orgasm. The shame of fucking herself on her uncle's cock hadn't caught up with her yet. The smile on his face was pleasant, yet she didn't like the implications of being, taught 'a thing or two'. He was a man of experience and out here, away from town, she was so very vulnerable. Aunt Agatha was hardly conscious, so there would be no help there.

It was hoped he had finished with her, for the moment, so she could get back to her room. Now she had so little control, it wasn't possible to reach up to deactivate the implant in his presence. She had learnt that lesson when Bob had her helplessly pandering to his whims. As soon as he sent her away, to get dressed, she could switch off the damn thing and leave.

"Come on, you can help me fetch some toys from the basement," he told her. Helping her up from the floor he noticed how disreputable she looked. He knew he had shot a load into her, as though it had been stored over the years and it was seeping from her.

"We'll take a shower first," he said. They soaped each other under the hot steaming water. Once dry he dressed, but left her naked.

A trunk in the cellar was wrestled open. He rummaged around dismissing some items. "These can wait for later," he muttered. He looked at her, assessing her size, and dropped clothing into a box. Toys were found and thrown into it too.

Easing his aching back, John straightened up. They carried the playthings up stairs between them. In the kitchen she made coffee while he rummaged around, trying to decide what to use first. He pulled out an unopened package, chuckling to himself.

"What games have you played?" he asked.

Anne tried not to answer. Revealing her naughty and perverse secrets was just another uncomfortable act she was committed to. It seemed there was nothing she could deny him.

"I played at being an android, a sexy maid, a sex slave, and a slut," she stated.

"Nice wholesome family games," he teased. "We shall play those games too, though you seem to like playing at being a slut the most. I always felt sorry for your husband, thinking you were a prude. On your rare visits here you were always a stuck up bitch. I was courteous, yet you were the college high flyer, too high and mighty to acknowledge your ignorant country relatives," he thoughtfully spoke.

"Look at you now, you're such a slut, you don't even try to cover your naked body," he laughed.

Anne felt miserable, for he was right. The slut program was hard at work influencing her mind, setting the rules for what it considered to be just a game. She was trapped, in its grip, acting out the role of a perfect little slut.

She followed him into the lounge, agonising over what torture was planned for next. She had tried not to look at what was being shoved into the box. A black leather bodysuit was unavoidably seen and immediately disliked.

"Here, try this on. It's never been used, never got around to trying it out. You might find it interesting," he laughed.

He dusted her with talcum powder then pulled, with difficulty, a plastic one-piece suit around her body. It was an odd shape, not fitting at all. Inside it were tight sleeves for her limbs. He sat her down on the carpet, with squeaks of plastic rubbing together. It was difficult to move in the odd garment. He attached a hose to a nozzle then switched a pump on.

The plastic suit began to inflate, with her inside, completely covered in see-through plastic. Eventually it was fully inflated, gripping her in a tight embrace. Her head was covered and held up so that she could see her arms outstretched, with both legs upright and apart. She was bent awkwardly, into its shape, unable to move.

"Well, that has been worth waiting for," he chuckled.

Swivelling her eyes, she followed his every move, afraid of what might be next. Her breasts and sex could be clearly seen, yet were unavailable, so why was she incarcerated in this thing; whatever it was? She could breathe through tubes stuck into her nostrils. Her mouth was the only thing in the open air, held open by a ring of hard plastic, so there was no problem breathing.

She watched him bring a small table over, to place it next to her, with his mug of coffee on it. He was out of view, behind her for a moment then he lowered himself onto her. She was looking at a close up of his crotch!

"You make a nice comfy chair, Anne," he laughed.

It dawned on her what she was wearing. It was a blow up chair, designed to hold a person tightly inside it! Her legs were upright, forming the back of it. Her arms were stuck out as the arms of the seat. He was sitting on her tummy or at least the inflated bubble over her stomach. There was plenty of padding under her too, so it wasn't uncomfortable. It was just hideously humiliating, to be turned into a piece of furniture.

He took a sip of coffee, looking down at her eyes flickering madly. It was almost the only part of her body that she could move. "So, indomitable professor, how does it feel to be reduced to a piece of humble furniture?"

Instead of complaining the slut program answered for her. "Thank you, master, for making me useful to you. Your humble little slut is at your disposal, ready to submit to whatever you desire," Anne said. Unable to move her mouth, the words were garbled, reverberating as meaningless sounds in the close confines of the plastic chair.

John watched the tongue flapping, in a mouth held open by hard plastic ringing her lips. He couldn't understand what she was saying but could imagine the cursing. The professor may like to play games, yet surely, this was way past the norm for her. He would enjoy exploring her limits and pushing beyond those boundaries.

He chuckled again, thinking it was a good job he was slim. The pressure of a fat man would squeeze the breath out of her. "I'll show you the beauty of this piece of furniture," he stated, while unzipping his jeans.

Her head was held up in front of his crotch with her mouth wide open. His cock bounced out, not quit hard yet, slapping her plastic lips. He dangled it in, as though fishing in a small pool. John nudged her tongue playing chase with it.

Anne was used to being helpless, though here she was physically powerless too, unable to even speak. What other ghastly torture devices he intended to use on her was too menacing to contemplate. She was used to playing gentle, bedroom games with her husband, with strict limits. This was diabolical!

John thought she was willingly playing a game, with a set of her own limits, whereas now, it seemed she had no control over the implants game program. The implant had helped her play at being a bit of a slut, sidestepping her reluctance, letting her husband enjoy a saucy romp in the bedroom. Unfortunately, it was now too well implemented into her mind. When told to be a slut, Anne played the role too well.