Mechanical Dreams

"Ritchie! What's happening? What are you doing to me?" Her body was near convulsions already, the device now adding the rippling motion to the rotating motion, driving her womb and her entire body to heights she hadn't known before. "Ritchie!!!!"

The young, self-proclaimed physicist and engineer emerged from his shop with a small panel in his hand. It was a radio control, to remotely operate the various aspects of the device. He'd only put the two controls and capabilities into the dildo so far, but he already had plans for more. His only concern at this point was that he was on the right track. After their first session, where he'd admittedly learned a lot about himself, he'd also learned just how much he did not know about the fairer sex. He wasn't sure he knew what had suddenly raised his level of interest to such heights, he'd satisfied his voracious appetite for information with hours upon hours of searching and reading on the web. He read everything from the cause and effect of fiction to medical reports of normal and extreme sexual stimulation, and put together what he thought he needed to respond to his sister's request, a request that seemed to be echoed often in fiction, and occasionally in clinical studies he'd come across. The result was Rithcie One. And now he knew there would be a Ritchie Two, and probably many more. As he watched his sister, completely absorbed in trying to separate the two sensations in her pussy, he could read her like a book. He knew which action he called for on the remote, and watched her reactions shift from one to another as he alternated the actions. He was fascinated by his power over her. He knew in his mind that if she'd wanted to get up or break away from the device sitting freely in her body, she'd never be able to resist its powers.

Renee was shocked, thrilled and hot as hell all at once. She let her arms down beside the armless chair. She scooted forward and reclined further. She stood up suddenly and grabbed one of the supporting posts for the basement, sliding her body up and down the cool rounded steel column. Her fingers stretched longer to claw at the post. She spread her legs around it and clasped her ankles on the other side to pull it closer to her. Her mouth was open wide and her breathing gusting in and out. And all the time, she was letting go more and more with her body, allowing the device in her sopping pussy to take over. Just as she was beginning to be able to tell what was working at any time, a whole new motion took over as the device curled up and poked directly at her G-spot and rubbed it! She couldn't believe it! It not only found her, but was now rubbing up and down and side to side on her G like no man ever had. Hell, she thought, not even she had been able to be this effective on herself ever before!

Ritchie inhaled sharply as his sister began to bump, then buck up and down on the post. Her arms alternated around the column and sliding up and down her torso, massaging herself and trying desperately to bring more of her sense to bear.

This all began to worry Ritchie. She was obviously out of control, perhaps not even conscious. What had he done to her? He turned the controls off with the flick of the controls master switch.

"NO!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. She scared the shit out of him as he quickly flipped the control box's master switch back to the on position.

Renee let go of the post and moved to her brother. With her hands between her legs, raking the insides of her thighs, she bent over and shoved her ass into his groin, wiggling it like some teasing whore. "Oh GOD! Little Brother! Fuck me up the ass too!!!!!"

Her words and her actions were unreal, he thought. She couldn't possibly mean what she said. He froze and looked down at her pushing her ass against his hardening shaft. But he dared not turn off the box.

Renee came twice more up against his loins, the hottest device she'd never dreamed of still threatening her cunt with a meltdown she might never recover from. Suddenly, she looked up at her little brother and said, "Oh stop Ritchie, PLEASE! While I'm in between…" Her head fell back however, and she went right back into the trance of yet another on-rushing orgasm.

Again, trying to comply with his sister's wishes, he turned the device off.

"NO!" She screamed again. He turned the controls back on and she settled back into another series of bumps and grinds against his stiff prick.

He thought suddenly he understood, and when she next slowed after an orgasm, he turned the device off once and for all. This time, it worked. His sister collapsed onto her hands and knees on the floor.

After some time, she said, in a low and pausing voice, "Oh my God, Ritchie! Where have you been all my life!" She laughed aloud.

He looked at her puzzled, not knowing what to say. Trying, he answered, "I've only been here twelve years, Renee. Before that…"

She laughed louder, a hearty and guttural laugh, "No, Silly, it's just an expression. My God, though, Ritchie! You built this? Just for me?" She was trying to stand up, but could barely manage to withdraw the heavenly instrument from her loins.

Ritchie was beaming again, pleased through all the confusion that his sister was truly happy with his work. "Yeah, you said you wanted a robot, to replace a man. This is the only part you told me about."

Renee managed to withdraw the package from her pussy and sit in the chair. She didn't trust her legs, coming off several of the most intense orgasms of her life. "If you could make more of those honey, you'd be a millionaire!"

Ritchie looked at her with his head cocked to once side, "A millionaire?"

She was somewhat surprised he didn't know what she meant, or was he actually considering the possibility? After a few more breaths, she added, "Yes, you could build and sell these things for dozens, no hundreds of dollars! There is NOTHING out there like this!" She held it up again, looked and smiled at her brother, then began to lick the shaft clean of her own juices. She didn't know what made her so bold in front of her brother, but she felt some whole new attraction to him. All these years she had been his tutor, his babysitter, his "Big Sister." Suddenly, she felt more like something entirely different. At first, she considered the roles had reversed, but nothing in his words or deeds have ever given her the idea he had any control issues to deal with. He was a genuine person, a man without an agenda, a human being with her well-being in mind, or at least her pleasure! She studied brother now, as she watched him watch her lick.

"I spent over thirteen dollars on that!" He said, as if amazed that she would want to build more of them.

Renee suddenly stopped licking and looked at him. Between what she'd said in jest, and he'd said in fact, a whole new idea was forming in her head, but she couldn't help but laugh not at, but with her adorable sibling mate.

Raintree Rampage, Inc., New York, NY, 2002

Renee opened the entrance door before the client could reach the handle. To allay any fears of frightening the visitor, she also announced her welcome as the door began to open. "Welcome Ms. Granger, so nice to see you again."

Ginger Granger stepped through the door, amazed as usual at the personal attention she received each time she came for a "treatment." She didn't even know what the visit would cost, only that for the next hour or so she would be more satisfied than at any other time in her life. It was like that each visit, and just kept getting better. Raintree Rampage was the eight wonder of the world, and its best kept secret.

Ginger's private secretary, working her magic on the books to find time to get her Grammy winning songstress boss her weekly appointments at Raintree, wondered just what it was that made this recent addition to her schedule so absolutely critical as to become a part of contracts she signed for tours or recording sessions. But the boss said it was to happen, and that meant it was to happen. She called and checked with the driver to be sure she'd been delivered to the non-descript address in Tribeca on time.

Ginger followed her host through the "waiting room," a room she'd never even had time to sit in after her first "exploratory" visit, and into a warm corridor of beige, leather covered walls, and a few powerful and heavy, wood carved doors. It was through one of these doors, the one labeled Satia One, that the lovely hostess escorted her client now.

Inside, the room was built and furnished to replicate the bedroom of a posh, New York City apartment. There was a massive picture window on one wall, with a starlit skyline scene so accurate one would swear it was real. There was another building close by, and Ginger could already see people walking in several of the closer windows, as if at parties, or just home from work, or sitting down to dinner, offices and residences all mixed together.

In the middle of the room, there was a bed, or so it seemed, narrower even than a bunk bed mattress, yet covered with white fur, perhaps that of a polar bear. All Ginger could remember was that it was the softest fur she'd ever felt. She handed her purse to the hostess, then her blouse, and her bra. She then let the hostess remove her long skirt and panties, before saying thank you. The hostess departed with all her belongings.

Ginger Granger was standing alone in the room, facing the small bed and with the night scene behind. She walked forward, and lay down on the bed, with her feet to the window. At once, straps encircled her wrists, her ankles, and one around her waist. The bed began to incline the moment they were secure. As it did so, the cityscape before her began to come alive. People in the various windows gathered at the openings to look directly at her. Some had drinks in their hands, and others put an arm around a mate. Still others, a couple of men, began to shed their clothes. She looked higher, at the highest window she could see, and sure enough, a voluptuous, long black haired bitch, dressed in leather corset and sundry other articles of domination, stood with her feet at shoulder width, and a crop she held in one hand and repeatedly brought snapping down in the other. It was as if she couldn't wait to get her hands on her.

The bed tilted further, until it was nearly vertical. She was still held back against it by the restraints, and felt no tendency to fall forward, but her entire body was now visible to all those in the scene behind the window. Ginger Granger, star and very important, universally known personality, lay naked and strapped to a bed before her audience, to be seen, and even played with if the voyeurs so desired. Her heart was beating faster and harder at just the realization, but her sex was beginning to beat in anticipation. On this "night," as on this "night" every week, she would be satisfied sexually like she'd never been satisfied before. She be lifted to heights she could not describe, or dream of. She'd be exposed to and possibly mistreated by her fans. She'd be humiliated and lifted higher than any award or applause could ever lift her. This afternoon would define the ultimate in her personal satiation.

Raintree Rampage, Inc., New York, NY, 2002, Control Room

"Oh Richard, you are just too much I truly don't know how you do it." Renee stood behind her brother who sat at the control panel, one that looked a bit similar to the ones their client must sing to when recording. There was a bank of controls, toggle switches, buttons and rheostats that would control the brightness of a light, or the intensity of some motion. A label headed a line drawn around a group of these and it read, "Window." Another group was identified similarly with the word, "Platform." Several more groups were visible and the entire panel was separated from the room itself with a large one-way mirror. Renee and Richard watched as the star in their special bed, comfortably acclimated her temperament and her eyes to her new surroundings.

Ginger Granger had come to them like most of their exclusive clientele, through a recommendation from another client, a three-time nominee for the Academy Award. In her case, the scene in the next room would have been entirely different, and the onlooker would have been hard pressed to be able to tell she was not actually on a southern Polynesian beach. The recommending actress would also have been here for a longer time, a full two hours if not more, age and fitness having a lot to do with the tolerance of pleasure over time.

Ms. Granger was older than that referring actress, nearly a generation so, and was therefore able to withstand only a shorter time in character, though no one on any side would ever know this. The secrecy and privacy for which Raintree Rampage was known was absolute. There was virtually no chance that any of the clientele would ever know of the fantasies of any other. Outside of Renee and Richard in fact, they knew there was never even another person involved. When clients were in the house, there were only two from Raintree with them, Renee and Richard. All guests arrived in disguise, were escorted personally to their customized fantasy chamber, and exited from the building in a similar fashion, through one of three different exits, chosen randomly for each client, each day.

Raintree was not cheap. Though most clients made more money in a minute of their professions than Raintree charged by the hour, the hourly rate was still out of reach for all but the very elite of society. If you went to Raintree for the ultimate in sexual satisfaction, you were filthy rich, divorced or married for your image rather than love, and able to see clearly through the old mores and taboos to the uncharted waters to the ultimate sexual satiation, regardless of the means to achieve it. You were vain enough to require for yourself what no one else had, base enough to recognize what that was, and just low enough in self-esteem to accept the cure. But oh what a cure it was.

Raintree Rampage, Inc., New York, NY, 2002, Room - Satia One

Ginger's body was still in excellent condition. Though her age would normally put her in the one hour category at the most, her state of fitness earned her special consideration. She had on two occasions before requested and been granted an extra fifteen minutes of "treatment." Naturally, that extra quarter hour came at a price similar to that of a full first hour, the risk being exponentially increased for Raintree Rampage, Inc.

On this day, Ginger was eager for her session to begin. Though she knew someone had to be watching, she was also experienced enough to know that the money here was so good for the brother/sister pair that had built the place that they would never, never expose what went on in here to anyone else. Therefore, she let down her walls of defense while in this room, let the "world" watch her in HER element, not theirs. She would show them all that she was able to accept human satisfactions that went beyond the applause, the throwing of flowers, the fan mail. She would show them that she could be a slut, a woman of the night with endurances none of them could imagine.

She would show them her body was fit, sexy, and still wanton. Her fans would want to know these things, things that were sometimes asked in some of the more risqué letters she'd received. A few letters were so crass and direct, she'd had to be stopped by her publicist from writing back to learn more about the person who thought like her. For years she'd had to endure this frustration of unsatisfying men in her life, and the more adventuresome and creative men pushed away, simply because they did not meet her "station" in life.

But all that frustration and missing out was gone now, thanks to Raintree Rampage. Gone were the unfulfilled fantasies, the hopeless bedroom encounters, the waste of her delicious body on wasteful men and women, and her fantastical mind on uninspired partners. She was with Raintree now, and understood and cared for. She would leave here today completely satiated, and only doubly happy knowing she had a permanent reservation that would allow her back again next week. Raintree was a part of her life now, and would be until her last remnant of desire flamed out. She had reached a stage in life where the ultimate fulfillment was hers and no one, but no one could take that away. She smiled as she watched the people beginning back at her through the "window."

Raintree Rampage, Inc., New York, NY, 2002, Control Room

"She's ready now, Richard," Renee monitored the readings coming off the instruments in the woman's cuffs and sensors in the bed. Her background in nursing naturally gave her the job of monitoring client vital signs. Beyond that, Renee would monitor the close-up cameras directed at the client's face to ensure they spot any signs that a session was going too far. With Richard's incredible robotics, the concern was not creating sufficient stimulation to satisfy a client to their absolute maximum ability to withstand it, but going too far. In a relationship, albeit one strong enough to even come close to testing the limits of physical pleasure, humans can sense a person's vibrations and bodily functions from movement to tension to breathing and even audible signals. In Richard's robotic world however, there was no sense of smell, no sense of touch connected to a sense of reason. The tools and techniques needed the added input of human intervention, hence the control room Richard and Renee sat in now.

There was another reason for human intervention, and that was variety. No two sessions were ever the same. This was a special part of Raintree's offering in that not only could the sessions be forever different, they could be forever better. A subject feeling sensitive in one area of their body one week, might feel more sensitive elsewhere a week later. Actors often suffered muscle pains from particular scenes they had recently portrayed and required special consideration. Richard had learned quickly over the years with practice on his sister, and later with her girlfriends. Two years before this session, he had reached a new plateau in consistent performance and acquired their first big name client, an actress who had once been a friend of Renee's at school. When circumstances were right one day, Renee had introduced her to her brother and his robotics, and the company and its future were born. And now, with each week full up, they only raised their prices with the ratio of supply and demand. Their current price for a regular, weekly reserved hour was three thousand dollars. A single hour each day at the beginning of the day, and one at the end of the day were reserved for last minute services of five thousand dollars, or first timers at the regular reserved rate. Richard and Renee reserved Saturdays for housekeeping of the books and a cleaning crew that had no clue as to what was going on, only that it required more cleanliness than a hospital. Their business was booming and they had a waiting list for reserved times.

Renee never understood why her little brother didn't simply manufacture the line of robotics and sell them en masse. Richard, a fast learner in all things economic as well as in physics and engineering, knew that the instant his handiwork was available to the public, it would be copied and the market would become overly competitive and he would lose his ability to capitalize on his inventions. But this way, after expenses, and with none of the usual headaches of a staff and marketing and on and on, they were pulling down a hundred thousand net per week between them. It was a fine start for this thirty-year-old's career.

Richard flicked a toggle to initiate a sequence of events. First, a song from the client's repertoire played softly in the background. This brought a smile to her face, a note that Richard picked up. Next, a robotic arm, invisible in the dark, swung down from the ceiling at lightening speed, a pace that would frighten the client had she been able to see it in the dark. But she was not, so her first inclination that something was about, was a breath of air wafting over her fairly large, natural breasts. Next she inhaled with the sudden touch of something like a pair of hands, though with the softest of skin. They wrapped one of her breasts in a cradle of warmth and lifted the mammary in offering to the Gods.