Technology Ch. 02

This is a continuation of a story of revenge, sex, technology, and yes, even love. It won't make much sense on its own, and I encourage you to read the previous chapters to get the best experience.

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Caroline wore a red lace bra and matching thong as she carried Adam's dinner to him in the gorgeously appointed formal dining room. After setting his plate in front of him and filling his water and wine glasses, she knelt beside his chair and waited, hands behind her back, knees wide, eyes on him, just as she had every evening since she had awakened as his "remote controlled slave." Just for fun, he fished the ice chips from his water glass and placed them inside her bra. Although she tried not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, he could read her discomfort through the control interface. When he was finished, she was permitted to clear and clean the table, then clean the kitchen.

Adam remained in the dining room watching her through the wide entryway. He sipped his wine as she cleaned the dishes and wiped the countertops. He sent her a command and smirked as she immediately dropped to the floor and began scrubbing on her hands and knees, her back to him and her ass high in a lewd display. Eventually he came to kneel behind her, pushed her thong aside and slid his body into hers.

"You're not done yet." He informed her aloud as her internal remote control—the wireless interface as he called it- ordered her to resume scrubbing. He fucked her like that, kneeling in the kitchen with the scrub brush still in her hands. She angled her hips so that his thrusts were less punishing, but the commands in her head prevented more than that.

"Take it." He whispered in her ear, and she had no choice but to obey. As usual, he fucked her long and hard, requiring her to moan and beg before he chose to come, and ordering her silently to come screaming as well. It was not enough for him that he could make her submit. No, in the days since she had awakened to this nightmare, he routinely made her crave him, beg for him, come for him... and then recover and regret what she had just done. She did not know which was worse, having to obey while hating it, or being made to want it.

When her body recovered, she found herself alone in the kitchen, curled face down on the floor, her brain fogged from the force of her orgasm, but her body already wanting more. She could sense the commands in her input queue; she was not done scrubbing the floor yet, but she would be fantasizing about repeating what had just happened until she finished.

God she hated him. While he had been fucking her, she had felt only need and pleasure, screaming and begging for him not to stop, but now that command was gone. Now she was left to feel the humiliation of how she had just behaved, to know that she would behave that way again if he chose to come back into the kitchen, and to hate him and herself for it.

Her grace period timed out and automatically her body began to obey the commands it had been given. She scrubbed the floor, fantasizing that he was still watching her. She swayed her hips wantonly for her imaginary audience and stretched the brush out far in front with both hands, bringing her head low to the floor and her ass up in the air. She knew he was watching her. He was not at the table any more, but he was monitoring her through the interface like the ultimate hidden camera, watching her fantasize about him. She threw in hateful thoughts when she could, since he had not forbidden it and he would hear those in addition to her fantasies. She thought she heard him chuckle in the living room.

Apparently he was planning to conduct some sort of open heart surgery on the kitchen floor, because it was nearly an hour before she was permitted to stop scrubbing. As she worked on all fours, she had to clench her muscles tight to keep the mess he'd left inside of her from dripping out onto the floor. Finally she received the command to change clothes and clean herself up, then come to him. Defiantly, she realized that he had not told her WHEN to do it, so she deliberately took as long as she could. Eventually he noticed and forced her to complete her change and come to him.

Caroline found him in the bedroom, reading. She began to light candles around the room and then switched off the light. He was masking the commands now. She didn't know what she was about to do until she started doing it, almost as if it was her own idea, but it wasn't.

It definitely was not her idea to bring him two leather belts, one narrow, one wide and studded, from their storage cabinet in the closet. It was not her idea to lay them out neatly beside him on the bed. It was not her idea to lower the g-string panties she wore under her filmy black negligee and stand beside the bed, or to lift that negligee up to her shoulders when she stretched her upper body out over the mattress. When she was in position, she felt the command that locked her in place, and there she remained, awaiting punishment, until he found a stopping point in his reading.

The antique clock beside the bed said it was only about 10 minutes, but it felt much longer. Eventually he set down the reader and came to sit beside her on the bed. He did not speak as he began to immediately spank her with his hand; he did not have to. She knew she was being punished for her defiance, first in her thoughts in the kitchen, then in taking too long to come to him.

At his silent command, she moved to stretch herself over his knees like a child, and he adjusted her pain threshold so that every slap of his hand hurt unimaginably. This was another feature of her clone-remote-control-whatever-it-was body. He could make things feel as good or bad as he chose, without a word. With her thresholds set low, even a simple touch felt like sandpaper. She was instantly sobbing, and although he allowed her to wiggle and kick a little—mostly for his own enjoyment—she could not fight or pull away. Instead she begged his forgiveness for her defiance, pleading with him to stop the punishment and let her serve him instead. This was her own idea and that knowledge made it far more humiliating than when he commanded her to offer... she was willing to obey if it would make the punishment stop.

The punishment lessened. He continued to spank her, but he raised her pain threshold, and now she was mortified to find that he had not been spanking her very hard at all. He raised the threshold higher and she found she liked it, wanted it, and was begging for more, harder, faster.

At his silent command, she stood and picked up the studded belt, slipping it into his hands. She trembled as her body stretched back over the bed, and locked back into her previous position with her bottom bared hands outstretched. He did not double over the belt, but instead used it as a whip, the end flying out fast and hard to devastate her helpless bottom. When she tried to muffle her shrieks into the bedspread, he made her turn her head so that he could see her face and hear every whimper.

After a short while, he cuffed her wrists and secured them to the bedframe. Then the command holding down her was gone. As he resumed lashing her with the belt, she danced and fought against her bonds, trying futilely to escape his whip. Eventually Adam grew bored.

"Would you like to entertain me now, my pet?" He asked her.

"Sir?" She replied with a sniffle. He was not commanding her to use the title, but she hoped this small show of submission would mollify him.

"Ask me for permission to entertain me, unless you'd like to continue as we are?"

She shied as far from him as the restraints would allow, twisting to see him where he stood behind her. "No, Sir, please," she begged. "Please, tell me how you wish to be... entertained."

"I said ask for permission. Ask me to allow you to dance for me." He ordered as he unfasted her wrists from their restraints.

Her thoughts turned defiant for only an instant. It was unfair. He could make her dance. He could even make her want it. He didn't have to make her say the words. He didn't even have to vocalize the order. Making her ask was just an extra way to humiliate her.

"That's one." He informed her.

"Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It was so unfair! She hadn't even said anything, she was being punished for only her thoughts!

"That's two."

"No!" She protested, dropping without command to her knees. "I'm sorry, I just needed a moment. Please, Sir, please. I'll get it under control. Please, let me dance for you. Let me... let your pet dance for your entertainment."

Adam nodded and made himself comfortable on the bed, setting the belts aside for now. "Better."

Caroline felt commands wrap around her psyche, but as before she did not know what would happen until she found herself doing it. She found herself walking to the closet where her things were kept. She retrieved a single ankle cuff and retractable leash, then presented both to him along with her shapely leg. When he had attached the cuff and leash to her, he motioned for her to proceed. She pressed a button on the entertainment system and low music came into the room.

Although her mind wanted only to avoid further punishment, her body knew what to do. She danced for him, slow and seductive. Every move was perfect; every gesture was how he wanted it. It was all part of a program he had written into her long ago, and the interface told her he was pleased as she swayed and stripped for him, all while he held her on a leash.

It was only for show-for his pleasure and her humiliation. He controlled everything about her. He could stop her heart from beating with just a thought. The leash was necessary only to visually remind her of her status—his pet on a leash, dancing for his amusement. For a long while he let her feel the humiliation, but she was proud of herself for not bursting into tears. She would not give him that victory. He chose a new humiliation for her now. He commanded her to want it.

Desire began to build in her body, seeming to begin at her ankle where she was tied to him, and spread all throughout her mind and body. She wore only the black g-string now, and began to run her hands over her body as she swayed closer and closer to the bed.

Now she loved dancing for him. She wanted to continue for as long as he would permit, as long as it pleased him. She wanted his hands and mouth on her body, and brazenly she crawled onto the bed and knelt straddling him. Slowly she unbuttoned his shirt, spreading it wide and dragging her fingers over his bare skin.

"Am I entertaining you, Adam?" She asked wantonly. She needed to hear it, needed to know he was pleased with her. Forgotten now was the defiance in the kitchen and the punishment she had just received for it. Now she served because she wanted to, because the command interface was making her want to.

"The entertaining part will be when you remember later what a slut you're being right now." Adam replied, giving her an approving smile.

"Your slut." Caroline agreed. She moved to kiss his chest, but he pushed her back.

"Not yet." He said, hooking the leash on to the bedpost over his head. "No touching, just move for me. Show me how much you like being mine."

Caroline groaned at the sensations caused by his words, caused by his presence, caused by the knowledge that she was bound to his bed by a leash. She was exactly as he had said, his, and in that moment, it was all she wanted. When he produced nipple clamps from the bedside table and attached them to her, she groaned, wishing that the chain that ran between them clipped to her clit as well.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, slave?" Adam asked darkly, reading her thoughts.

"Please, yes please." She begged. Her pussy throbbed at his words, at the wonderful knowledge that she was his—his slut, his pet, his slave.

Adam pushed her off of him now and moved to sit up on the edge of the bed. Without needing a command, Caroline scrambled eagerly to kneel in front of him, clasping her hands behind her back and arching her body forward in a clear offering.

"Knees apart, little slut. I know you like how it feels pressing them together." He said, and she groaned in protest, but obeyed. She stared, transfixed, as he unfasted his pants and pulled out his cock. Her mouth watered as she waited for his permission.

With one hand, he grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth to his hard cock, with the other, he picked up the second, thinner belt, and used it to whip her lightly as he rode her mouth. She moaned at this treatment and sucked greedily at the cock in her mouth. He adjusted the pain threshold so that the nipple clamps bothered her more and more, as if they were getting tighter, while a desperate need continued to pulse between her thighs.

He kept his own program at near-orgasmic pleasure the whole time, but never lost control of her. At no point was his pleasure a need or a weakness. Instead it was his right, his game, and her only right was to use her body to beg without words for a release from all he was forcing her to feel. When he had finally had enough of her pleading moans, he lashed her hard and came in her mouth. He made her hold his cum in her mouth for a while, then allowed her to gratefully swallow, but still he was not done with her.

He sat back up on the bed, against the pillows, and beckoned her to him with a single finger. She knelt straddling him, but he stopped her before she could grind against him to ease her ache, pushing her back and telling her to hold her hands behind her back. He tugged the chain between her nipples until she understood and leaned forward, offering them to his mouth. His mouth closed over one and she mewled in both pain and pleasure as he suckled first one nipple, then the other.

"Tell me how bad you want it." He ordered as he continued to alternate his lips and hands on her clamped and throbbing nipples.

"Please, Adam, please." She begged, crying out when he added his teeth to her torture. "I want you so bad, please fuck me. Please let me come."

"Tell me what you'll do for me. What will you give me?" With a hard tug on the chain, he pulled off both clamps at once, pulling back to watch the pain play over her face as the blood rushed back into her tortured nipples.

"Anything. Please, I'll do anything."

"Well, of course you will. That's the point, isn't it?" He chuckled and then got up from the bed and walked away. "Get out of my bed, slave. I don't want you getting the sheets wet."

Her mind was lost in the utter chaos of longing and denial, but her body obeyed the command as he blew out the candles and left the room. She ached with unfulfilled desire, but now in the cold darkness she could read the commands he had left her with.

She was not permitted to get up—she was to remain here on the floor the rest of the night, naked except for the sodden g-string, tied to his bed with a leash she herself had brought him. She was not permitted to touch herself to ease the ache in her swollen pussy or her soothe her nipples where the clamp marks still showed. Slowly she realized he was done with her. He had no intention of letting her come tonight, no matter what she promised or how she begged. As he had predicted, as her body calmed, her mind filled with humiliation at how willingly she had serviced him, at how she had proudly proclaimed herself to be his slut and begged for his use.

He left her alone in the darkness for hours, never returning until after he had commanded her body to sleep. In the meantime, she shivered alone, aching from his whip, aching from his clamps, aching for his touch, and hating herself for wanting him.