Planet of the Normen

Then she saw Polly on the far side of the room. She might have been there the whole time. Just like Sharon, she was perched on the lap of her new master as he gambled, with her back to him, and her hands appeared to be tied behind her, though over there it was a dice game they were playing, in place of cards. Unlike Sharon, Polly was not sitting still. She was bouncing up and down at a frenzied pace, lightning-tattooed tits flapping on her chest like wings. It was difficult to tell at this distance through the haze if the robot was making her bounce or if she was doing it herself. Her spiked hair style had been flattened; drooping bangs obscured her eyes. Her teeth were clenched—except then as Sharon watched, that changed. Polly threw her head back and opened her mouth as wide as she could. And she screamed. It was blood-curdling. Nobody else in the tavern seemed to notice.

Then she slumped limp backward against her master's torso, panting. He only let her rest a few seconds, then shoved her to the floor. Sharon couldn't see much of her after that—the dice table blocked the view—yet she was pretty sure Polly had swiveled around on her knees and put her face in the robot's lap. Sharon could glimpse the top of her head bobbing up and down with the same fervor as she had when she was riding him.

Sharon had not fallen alone. And Polly looked to have fallen further, already.

Gerrod's devious fingertips had hooked inside her vagina, which had moistened again. He didn't push them any deeper or move them, just held them in there, barely penetrating. Sharon could concentrate on nothing else after that—nothing except the pressure of his fingertips. It wasn't a strong sensation, and yet at this point it was the most appalling torture in the cosmos. Like a single drop of water on your tongue, when you're dying of thirst. You're better off getting nothing ... She waited as long as she could. He did nothing more. Minutes dragged by like hours, like years. She realized she could bear this no longer. She could not keep still or keep quiet. She moaned and whined and whimpered. It made the other slaves giggle and sneer again. Sharon didn't let it stop her. She moaned again, spread her knees and thrust her crotch against his hand. "Ohhoohhuuhh."

"Hold still, slave," he told her, pulling his fingers away. "You're distracting my concentration from my cards."

"I can't! I can't! Ma-Master, please! Master!"

"What's the matter with you?"

"God! You know what the matter is! Dammit!"

"Yes. But you have to tell me. You have to ask me nicely."

"Fuck me, Master! Please! Fuck me! Fuck me! Please!"

"No. This time, doctor, you fuck me." He lifted her bottom, shifted her sideways over his cock, and let her drop.

She climaxed instantly as she was impaled, with a scream that outdid Polly's. Felt no need to move further after that. His cock still vibrated within her, though its rate was erratic.

"Now, now, slave," he said, pinching nipples, "Don't go to sleep on me. Finish what you started."

She really was a slave—a pleasure sex, a fuck slave. She knew it now.

She could feel the truth of it suffusing her body—a physical, tangible truth. It wasn't just a concept or a pretense, at this point. In the bedroom when he took her by surprise, she hoped her responses had been a one-time aberration, limited to that occasion. Her system overwhelmed by shock. But no. Conditioning was taking hold. He'd turned her into a fuck slave. If he could make her come again like that, in public surroundings like these, and leave her wanting more, then the android had genuinely tamed her and mastered her.

"Oh God. Oh God. I've become a sex-addict. I am enslaved. By a damned robot!"

"Yes," he said, "You are. You are mine."

She hadn't realized she'd spoken it aloud. No sense holding anything back anymore. "Yes. I am yours."

Dr. Sharon Green sniffled, gulped, took a deep breath, and then braced on her toes on the gritty floor and, just as she'd seen Polly do, she got to work galloping herself on her master's cock with all the strength she could muster. The fuck slave fucked. Renewed pleasure flooded her body and mind, drowning out all thought and shame and terror, and that blissful blankness would persist as long as she could keep herself moving ... She must never stop ... never stop ... never stop ...