Slaves to the Machine

'Just don't move a muscle while your Mistress works her magic. It'll all be over soon.' Thinking back, he realised just how strange a phrase that was to say to someone you'd met a few hours earlier, and who's dick you were about to suck, but George was horny and a bit drunk and too interested in the dark-haired hottie who'd taken him back to her room so romantically to think about it at the time. Thinking back, he realised just how much of what she'd done had been strange -- the way she'd fixated herself on him, the way she'd touched him up and breathed words into his ear on the dance floor, the way she'd bought him almost all his drinks, the way she'd guided him back to her room without hesitation. But hindsight is always 20/20, and at the time, George had been too drunk and thirsty to do anything but sit back on her couch and watch her bend over her dresser, her short skirt hiking up her body to reveal a delightfully deep line that curved along the inside of her thighs and parted alluringly to give way to a mound with a line at its centre.

When she'd turned back to him, he was relaxed into her cushions, legs spread wide, tented pants waiting for her to pull them down and go in for it. He watched her messily loop her black-red hair up with a rubber band into a ponytail and felt himself pulse as he watched her black lipstick-painted lips parting In readiness and her soft red tongue slip out and wet them. He swigged another gulp of the beer he still clasped in one hand and grinned as she walked sexily towards him.

'Hey there little boy,' she said, touching him lightly through his shorts. 'Ready to be made mine?' He grinned and she got on her knees, pulling his shorts away until he popped out, stiff as a pole and red at the tip. 'Ooh myy,' she whispered, glancing coyly at him. 'We are a big boy, aren't we? It's alright, it will still fit just fine.' She smiled and pulled his pants down further, revealing his balls. Gently taking him in her hands, she finger him lightly, feeling the pulsing length and eyeing it as if sizing it up for entry. Then, she picked up something she'd had in her hand and had put on the floor when she'd come over and raised it above his cock.

'You'll be all mine in no time,' she said as she brought a strange black device into view. George was too horny and drunk to process things properly, and for a few moments he thought it was a condom of some kind. Then he felt it slip over his tip and watched the arms clip into position, and his addled mind slowly began processing what was happening to him. But it was already too late.

Positioning her device atop George's throbbing member, Mella quickly fastened it in place. Black, cap-like and hollow, like the head of a round, bulbous mushroom, it was a roughly circular shape with a cut-out in the bottom that gave access to the inside of the cap which was coated in a thick latex-like rubber. On either side of the cap, two railed arms descended about six inches, each with a small screw embedded where they joined to the body of the cap which could be turned to adjust their length from the base to their ends, and at the apex of the arms circling the bottom of the cap was a metal ring which also had a latex-rubber ring around the inside. As she wiggled it over the top of George's engorged helmet, she clicked the arms down a little to match his length, then locked them off with a small safety screwdriver she had brought over with her. Designed for phones and shop displays, it was an uncommon screw head, and it would be impossible to move with any regular kit.

Mella held George by the shaft and ensured the cap was snugly fitted over his head before sliding the detachable ring section all the way down the arm's railed insides, smiling and nodding when she saw that it came right down to the base of his penis. Then, she took her phone from her back pocket and pulled up an app on it, holding it near by the head of the now encased penis. A tiny blue light blinked rapidly in the upward-facing tip of the black cap, and when she had connected to it, it went steady for a few seconds, then changed to a slow, rhythmic pulse every few seconds. In the centre of the cap a small motorised hatch was closed, and tapping a button on her phone, she made it revolve open, revealing the tip of George's cock below before closing again.

'All done!' Mella said bouncily as she sat on her coffee table in front of George, who was sitting up and looking at himself in confusion, trying to conjure the words to respond. He'd been trying to sit up and say something while she'd worked, but in the forty seconds or so it'd taken her to attach the device to him, he'd been fighting the nausea of drunkenness and the sensations had honestly been quite pleasant. Now that he saw her sitting back away from him and still hadn't sensed her lips around his dick, he redoubled his efforts to confront her.

'What'reah... What are yah doing?' He drawled, more drunk than he'd thought.

'Oh my pet,' Mella said, grinning wickedly at him. 'Taking you for my own, of course! Now, what do you say we begin your programming schedule right away, hmm?' She asked rhetorically, her feminine voice cute and innocent yet dripping with the knowledge of someone who has all the power in the world over you. She raised the phone, and before George could react, tapped the controls.

The device encasing George's cock came to life in an instant. One second it was sitting on his length like a strap-on toy, the next it was whirring softly at him as the rubbery latex inside the cap and around the ring instantaneously inflated to suck tightly against the skin of his helmet and shaft. Almost immediately it began to rotate independent of the latex's grip on him, and in that moment George felt that, far from being smooth and metallic, the cap's interior was actually thickly ribbed and knurled, covered with a myriad of different lumps and shapes, patterns and textures that rubbed around and around his whole head all at once. In the same moment, the ring which was now gripping his shaft tightly and spinning on the spot began to raise and lower along the railed arms, the latex actually being a ring that could roll along and around him, mimicking a masturbatory motion, sliding up and down his length with a constant mechanical rhythm. The blue light atop the tip facing him blinked slowly, synchronised to flash each time the ring touched the underside of the cap. Looking at the speed of the blinking, it was actually quite slow, but George could feel the sudden stimulation rapidly coaxing orgasm from him already. His mouth agape, he stared at his own caged cock, then up at Mella, who watched him with an evil gleam in her huge dark eyes.

'Soon enough,' she said, leaning forwards, her already very revealed cleavage directly behind his mechanically engorged member so that it seemed to sit between her breasts, 'you'll beg me to turn this device on. You'll call my phone, send me message upon message, bang on my door and scream up at my window. But nothing you can do will make me give you release until you submit yourself to me. Only then will you truly feel what it's like to cum for me, little boy.'

And, drunk and aroused and shocked dumb by everything that had gone on in the last five minutes, George felt himself pulsing inside the addictively powerful little gadget, and as he stared into Mella's eyes, he came. She tutted to herself embarassingly as she read the notification on her phone that the machine had sent her as soon as it had detected his semen collecting inside the reservoir behind the pressurised latex bubble. 'Oh Georgie boy,' she teased like a mother talking to a small child. 'That certainly won't do. You can cum all you like, but only submission will help you achieve true release.' And she got up and walked away from him, leaving George cumming on the couch into the machine clasped to his cock until he began to deflate.

Only the device didn't stop its incessant twisting, vibrating, stroking motions, and as George sat there, dumbfounded on Mella's couch as she milled about making coffee and settling down in front of the TV, he felt himself stiffen into the air again shortly after, and idiotically staring at his own chastised dick, felt it work and work him constantly until he eventually unloaded again roughly twenty minutes later. Curled up on the sofa across from him, completely ignoring him as she watched a show on TV, Mella idly checked her phone, raised one eyebrow at him, and sighed.

'George, George, George. You'll learn eventually that no amount of semen will satisfy me -- or you. The sooner you agree to submit, the more easily you'll find it to submit more. And the sooner you do that, the sooner you won't have to worry about anything ever again, and you can feel what true bliss is.' George tried to reply, tried to argue, and he managed a few words -- but every time a coherent sentence formed in his brain, his cock lit up with pleasure or the pulsing of his next orgasm intensified, and he forgot it again. The few times he managed to forge ahead with a phrase, Mella would just ignore him and check her phone. Once or twice she changed the machine's speed, and that shut him dumbly back up again as her remote control of his cock overtook him.

A few minutes later as the teasing device holding George's genitals hostage continued to work unceasingly away at him, Mella stretched, got to her feet and left the room. A couple minutes after that, he heard the shower turn on. He came again shortly before she returned, now in an old over-sized jumper and pyjama pants, her deep dark red-black hair wet about her shoulders and her makeup washed away. She patted about the small living area bare-footed, switching off the TV and washing the few dishes she'd used that day. At some point she turned the machine down so that it only worked at a painstakingly slow speed, gently stroking him, always just reminding him that the sensation was there, keeping him half-hard and on the edge. About half an hour later, she turned off all but the lamp by the TV, and came around to him. By now, George was wet with sweat and exhausted. Mella helped him to drink some water and draped a blanket over him, helping him to lie back on the couch.

'Just rest now baby,' she cooed to him, the mechanical cock-milker still softly whirring away between his legs on an only half-hard penis. Too tired to argue, he let her manoeuvre him onto his side, and stared up at her as she stroked his hair.

'Wh-what are... You trying to do to me?' he breathed. She shushed him like a worrying mother.

'Just get some rest now,' she soothed. 'And everything will be better in the morning. Sleep now George, go on. Sleep now.' And despite everything, George let himself go, and although every time sleep edged closer to his befuddled mind the sensation on his cock brought him out again, eventually, even that couldn't hold him from slumber, and he dozed off.

-

The next day, George awoke to find himself wrapped in his own sheets, in his own bed. Groaning and struggling to come to, he rolled over and desperately sought slumber once more, but a bright light was shining into his eyes and sleep fell from his grasp. Annoyed, he blinked into the land of the living, squinting at the blinds across his window which were glowing with the morning sun. Turning over, he glared at his clock and waited for his eyes to adjust to it, groaning when he saw that it was 10:21 AM. He dragged himself onto his arm, then his elbow, and then finally upright. In doing so, he felt an itch between his legs, and as he usually did most mornings, he put his hand down his pants to scratch. When his fingers hit metal, he flinched physically and froze.

Images and sensations exploded to life inside his mind. The feeling of a vibrating, rubbing, stroking machine on him. The sound of a feminine voice in his ear. The feeling of a foreign blanket. The exhaustion of drink and tiredness overtaking him while something pulled him incessantly back from sleep... What? Putting his hand to his groin again, George felt something hard encasing his penis and he blanched. In an instant, the dots joined inside his head, and he recalled everything -- the girl he'd gone home with, the way she'd seduced him, then how she'd put this thing on him and had it milk and milk and milk him all while she called him her pet and told him to submit to her over and over and...

Blinking, George stumbled upright and into his bathroom and tore his pants down. Sure enough, there it was, resized to fit his flaccid cock, clinging to him like a blood-sucking leech. He pulled at it but only felt his hyper-sensitised skin moving with it. He tried to work his finger underneath the ring but felt it slip and roll against his touch, clinging on tight. He pulled at the metal arms, but they were powerful and shaped in folded square lines that gave it a lot more strength than metal of its size should regularly have. Even the inflated latex bubble seemed to have been stretched to keep a solid hold on his limp head so that, even if he could soften up enough, he couldn't remove it. Giving up in frustration, he looked at the tip where the blue light blinked briefly every ten or so seconds, and realised there was an open hole in the end. Relieved at least for that, he went to the toilet.

When he'd brushed his teeth and washed his face, not bothering to put his pants back on, he padded back out into his bedroom, heavy, chastised dick swinging, to find a message on his phone. Checking it, he saw a text message from someone called "Mistress Mella" in his contacts. He opened it and saw her profile picture was a rather attractive selfie of a white woman with deep black-red hair and huge dark eyes, staring sexily right at him through the screen. She seemed to have a lot of bosom showing for such a tiny image, and George vaguely thought he recognised the room she was in. The text read "Uh-uh. No tampering, my pet. Good boys don't fiddle with their collars." Frowning curiously at the words and feeling a tingle shoot through him, George closed the app and checked the time -- and did a double-take when he saw the date.

'What the fuck? How is it Thursday?' He said to no one as he read the word on his screen. Stunned, he sat on his bed and ran a hand through his hair in disbelief, trawling through his brain to find where he'd misplaced the last four days of his life. Despite himself, he didn't seem to be able to find much more than a blur of light and noise.

It was only then that George realised that the device attached to him had come to life. Looking down, he saw that the blue light was blinking faster now -- about every eight seconds. It was slowly rotating around and around, and he could feel a lot of lumps and formations moving about beneath it, stroking across his helmet. Already he was beginning to stiffen, and as he watched his own cock responding to someone else's command as he stood more and more upright, he felt the machine adapt to his size on the fly, extending the arms down and releasing the detachable ring component as it went. By the time he was nearly fully erect, the whole thing was slowly turning atop his cock, gently stimulating him, the ring slowly rolling up and down his length in time to the blinking light, lightly squeezing him all the way along his shaft.

'Oh my god...' George said out loud as he felt the device going to work on him. Almost as quickly as it had started, he could feel arousal seeping into his body from his cock, and he quickly chucked his concern to the wind as it stroked him effortlessly into a blissful stupor. He let his legs fall open and leaned back on his bed as the invisible attacker pleasured him, and as he let himself melt into it, his phone vibrated again.

"Good boy. Let me wake you up with a treat before we start your programming for the day."

Frowning, George just had time to wonder what that meant -- and who Mistress was -- before the remote-controlled masturbator picked up the pace, quickly turning it up until it was spinning rapidly, the speed making it vibrate and the stroking ring rapidly sliding back and forth along his length. George groaned and swore as his cock burst to life, and within thirty seconds he felt semen building up inside him. His phone buzzed in his hand and he just had the wherewithal to check it before, with a grunt, he unloaded into the now automatically closed cap covering his head, jerking on the side of his bed. He'd only half taken the message in, but it hadn't been long.
"Cum for me pet."

After that, George's dick never got a break. Guided by the mysterious woman on the other end of his phone, he got up and made himself breakfast while the machine clinging to his body worked unrelentingly away at him, constantly reminding him of its presence, always giving him a jolt of pleasure here or a quick erection there. Each new text was accompanied by another burst of blissful ministrations from the device, and so he quickly became accustomed to expecting them when he did as the texts told him. By the time he was settling down on his couch around mid-afternoon with his phone, he was hot and sweaty, his chores were done, he'd spent half the morning texting back and forth with Mistress Mella, and he'd cummed five times.

'Good boy,' a new text said as he sat, cock pointing up at the sky between his legs, the machine slowly and relentlessly twisting away atop him. 'Such a very good boy. You've earned a reward from your Mistress for being so obedient.' By now, George didn't have to think about it. By the time he'd read the text, the machine was speeding up to a blur, and he was leaning back to enjoy the pleasuring he was in for.

-

Later that evening as he lay on his bed enjoying a video he'd been sent, contentedly letting his new attachment do its thing on him and reminding him it was there, a text told George to dress and leave his home, and obediently, he did. Striding up the street in the twilight, hands in his pockets, he whistled to himself. For the first time all day long, his personal companion was silent between his legs, and as he climbed the steps to the room he'd been told to go to, he felt the weight of it moving in his pants. He knocked on the door as instructed, and a second later, the door opened.

Inside was the woman from his phone, the one in the photo, only she was a thousand times more attractive in person. George drank her in from head to toe, seeing her huge dark eyes as wide as plates, her milky skin, her dark hair that framed her face, her soft, large lips, her slim neck and wide, perky breasts only half contained in her shirt, her petite waist and shapely hips and her legs that dipped down into modest, feminine feet that were bare on her carpeted floor. She smiled when she saw him, and his heart wanted to leap from his chest at the obvious joy he brought her. He stepped inside without really knowing if she'd asked him in, and within minutes he was perched on her couch with her sitting next to him, gazing at him and smiling brightly.

'Hello baby,' she breathed. 'How's my little pet?' George's cock stirred, and he didn't need the masturbator this time for his erection to take hold.

'G-good,' he said as if he hadn't spoken in years. 'I'm good, Mistress.' The word seemed to slip from his lips unbidden, and he blinked in surprise as it came out. Yet it felt good to say, and he quickly found he liked the way it formed in his mouth and gave him a hot tingle along his spine. He grinned a little sheepishly, and watched as the girl laughed at his reaction.

'It's okay!' she soothed. 'You're perfectly correct, and such a good boy for doing as you've been told for me.' George's erection was stiffening rapidly now and he could feel his companion adjusting to his size. She looked down and saw it, and her huge eyes seemed to grow even larger as she drank it in.