Dec 5, 2008

Another Story by Sybatra, Mistress of Silent Need

Once upon a time, in a small cabin far in the north, there was a young man who had been taken captive by a woman of experience and very harsh desires. He spent his days in warm socks and tight leather thongs that held him erect, or made it impossible to be erect, depending upon her whims.

On this day, he has been too long in the closet, and too long in the dark. Suddenly the door flies open. He can smell her perfume, but not see her in the blinding light.

"EYES DOWN!!!! Crawl out here..." But it is difficult. His ankles are bound together. It is more of a wiggling than a crawl and she laughs at his awkward ass swaying in the bright light. "Your ass is too white!! I'll make it rosy red..."

The sudden sound of the whip cutting air is a strange delight for both of them. A welt rises on his white ass, a streak of red, and with a quick intake of air, as he gasps for fear and hunger to please. Something inside him melts and he knows it is tonight when he must give all that he has longed to give and tonight when she will ask more than ever before. He can sense it in her silence, and the silence of the waiting air around him.

Thwack!!! Another red road directs her pleasure across the wide expanse of her imagination. She grabs his hair and presses his face and eager nose against her moist and secret places. What a wonderful odor fills his mind. He is breathing too hard against her. He is short of breath and with a gentle laugh she presses his face deeper between her closed thighs.

He is willing to die, but he hopes to live, if only to be used for a few hours and discarded. But that is not her plan. She leans over him humming a careless tune as she lets him breathe and removes all his bonds, whispering "You are mine little one. You are all mine. Come to the bench." He crawls eagerly, but slowly, to the leather covered bench in the corner. It has been made especially for her and for her "playthings" to enjoy. She has him sit upright this time, and facing her, eyes down.

She sits close on a padded stool and begins a new ritual of bondage. First, at the base of his cock, she binds him with soft leather that she pulls tightly beneath the seat through a wide inset opening in the front on the seat below his genitals. She ties it firmly. He is going nowhere now as she rises and binds each wrist with leather cuffs to the sides of the seat. Now she attaches a tall leather neck piece and he is bound to his "chair", no longer able to look down and see what is taking place as she continues her play.

He feels a cool touch of metal along his chest and a sudden flash of pain in one nipple tells him she has hung her favorite weight from his right breast, and now another on the left. He knows there is no place for complaint in this, no need to even to moan.

She has entered her own world in which he is and is not a part. She is as intent as ever she has been and there's no turning back. Now he feels her hands on his stiff rod. He knows she is taking stock of it. She strokes the skin to feel the velvet tension, to feel the life in it, the hunger, the need. She hefts his balls, but now thinks of them as her own. She makes them into objects for her convenience and pleasure. She hefts the balls and measures them against some secret standard. He can tell from the soft sounds she makes that so far he has pleased her, but there is something more. A tightening in her grip now on his cock, a twisting that feels as if it continues round and round his stiff member without a natural explanation for the unbroken whirling sensation. As the skin begin to burn against the friction of her twisting hands, she pulls at the cock and groans with a feral need.

It hurts beyond his expectation, but he has not been given permission to speak or to ask for mercy. They have been together too long now. He has been her property for so long that she knows what he can handle and knows he will be quiet and not disturb her in her meditations. She dreams her power through his flesh and it is a deep, deep dream.

Now he feels a leather thong being wrapped round and round his dick, the full length being girded and pressured. He dares not think of anything but the smell of her, the sound of her, the surrender to her needs, for if he should begin to soften she will whip him mercilessly and leave him stranded here until her disappointment fades, which could be sometime tomorrow. He is hard, stiff like steel. He is hers and meets her expectation.

Now she tugs at the balls again. She is playing some unknown game and it makes her giggle a little as she twists them. And now, using both hands, she crushes them together then pulls them out long and hard, binding them with a leather strap so that they are fully hers and far from the protection of his body.

"Little balls so alone and frightened." She speaks softly, then snaps the balls sharply with a harsh dismissive finger. A fierce little pain winds it's way up his spine and explodes in his mind. He has been here before, on the edge of the unknown, not in any way certain of what she has planned. Perhaps, he fears, the next sudden pain may announce a worse tangle of need and ingenuity. The fear begins growing in his belly, then the sound of an electric vibrator disturbs his fevered thoughts and the sweet coolness of lubricant disturbs his ass. The opening in the seat is enough to allow access, just barely. And once she inserts the vibrating butt plug, the seat is also just big enough to hold it in place. So he sits in pleasure and pain for her.

She lets loose his nipples, and after so long a time it is another sharp reminder that pain and pleasure are 2 edges of one knife in her world. She begins to hum a bluesy tune. A fresh wave of female musk breaks over him as her fingers reach to his mouth where her red painted nails insert the wet taste of pussy into his eager mouth. "You wish..." she says, teasing him, and laughs. She bends low and binds his ankles to the legs of the bench. Now he is entirely immobile. She clicks something nearby and the insistent vibrator jumps into high gear. Someone moans. Is it he or she? She has begun to masturbate, but she is still close by. He cannot see what she is doing, but she has used him this way before.

Now again he feels the clamps pinching his sore nipples, stronger, heavier. He realizes this time she's using the black ones with the long chain between them. The clamps tighten when pulled. The vibrator speed lowers. The soft heavy thud of a suede flogger begins falling across his chest, again and again, tearing at the clamps. Then she swings it lower, hitting his throbbing cock. Up and down his body the heavy pain rolls, and it warms him. He lets his mind go now, no longer analyzing, no longer measuring his resistance or her need. The whip falls spreading pain, mixing with the senation of the vibrator as it kicks into high and she moans.

The slow pulsing rhythms of the high and low settings beat against the rhythm of the whip tugging at the nipple clamps, and his battered cock. She is pleasuring herself now, and he is a part of her arousal. His surrender is the bow she plays herself with. He shrinks back from the tugging pain in his nipples and rises up when the vibrations increase in intensity. Up and down, back and forth, he is caught in the machinations of her perversity. He can smell her fragrance filling the room and his cock is about to burst regardless of the binding, regardless of the pain, regardless of her need to keep him hard. He abandons himself to the moment, and hears her scream in pleasure as if she knew, as if they where one. Waves of heaven break over them both as he spills his dreams out upon her leather. Knowing he will pay for that, he smiles. He feels her smile, too, somewhere near in time and space as a long quiet moment grows longer still. Then they break the silence laughing together, one in relaxation, one in discomfort, and both in joyful anticipation of a future that unfolds across a heaving sea of endless possibilties...

Nov 23, 2008

Katy Perry

My Beer Buddy

Despite us calling it "boys night out," most of the time Tony and I would hang out in his finished basement on our occasional evenings. Basketball season was our favorite. Tony's wife, Marsha, would order us up a couple pizzas, stock the basement fridge with beer, and let boys be boys.

I don't think that Marsha knew just what kind of boys we were being in the comfort of his plush rec space. Once we got down there and settled, Tony would have me strip for him. I'd get down on all fours and be his footstool. He'd rest his frosty mug of beer on the small of my back, sending a shiver up my spine I had to suppress, lest I spill a drop. All the while, my cock would be rock hard from serving him.

After a while, he'd finish his beer and set the glass aside. He'd have me kneel down, lower, and rub his bare feet. I took special care of him this way. Each week I'd rub and massage his soles. I'm sure that, of all the guys in the office, he had the softest and most pampered feet in our office.

Properly buffed and moisturized, Tony instructed me to worship his feet more deeply. I took each toe into my mouth, beginning with the little one on each foot and moving closer and closer to the big one. I loved to take his big toes in my mouth and suck them long and hard, lolling my tongue under them, feeling the ridges of his skin.

The first time we played this game was over a year ago. It was late--really late--and we had been drinking... a lot. After the game was over, Tony started flipping around and came to a softcore movie on one of his thousand cable channels. He started talking about how hot the girls in the movie were. Before I knew it, he had fished his cock out of his pants and was stroking it right in front of me.

I don't know what it was but something came out in me seeing that. I just couldn't help myself. It looked so big and full and... delicious. I bent over and put my hand over his, then I put the head of it in my mouth and started to suck. It just felt so right. He moaned and lay his head back over the edge of the couch, his mouth agape. I just kept sucking and stroking him, cupping his heavy hairy balls in my hand, feeling them tighten and hearing his breath get harder and heavier until he came, pumping his load into my mouth.

Since then, I've been his. We don't talk about it much outside of his basement but once we're together down there, I'm his.

While I love to suck his cock, what I really love is when he fucks me. I never knew that I'd want something like that but, shit, the next time we were together I was begging for it.

"Tony, will you fuck me?"

"What? Fuck your ass?"

I nodded. I felt like such a little bitch asking for it, but it just felt... I dunno... natural to want it. I wanted to feel him inside of me, deeper than my mouth.

He had me get over his ottoman and used some lube on my ass. That he had lube there, made me realize that he had thought of this as well. He put a finger in me and, oh, it felt so good. He started sliding it in and out and I couldn't help but groan. I wanted him. I wanted him in me.

When he took his finger out, I felt empty. I wanted more. I wanted fullness. "Please, Tony, please fuck me."

He put the head of his cock against my asshole and pushed in. It was excruciating. "Oh, shit," I said, "Just... wait... keep it in me, but let me get used to it... oh." It felt huge inside of me. I felt like he was splitting me open. My ass was throbbing but wouldn't you know, I wanted more.

"Can you take it, bitch?" he asked. Him calling me "bitch" just made me want it even more.

"Yes, please, oh, please, slide it into me. I need to feel it!"

He was happy to oblige. He pushed into me. My insides gripped at him and my cock spasmed as he buried himself deep. I could feel the heat from his body against me. I could feel the weight he was putting onto me. He began thrusting, fucking me. I was his now, completely. My hands clutched at the feet of the ottoman while he slammed me, again and again.

His hands grasped my ass, wrapping around to my hops, pulling me against him. Fucking me, grunting like an animal, possessing me.

"Oh, yes," he moaned and I felt his cock twitching inside of me, pulsing, cumming.

He started to pull out. "No, wait! Tony! Keep it inside of me, just for a little longer," I begged. He waited, his cock slowly getting softer, sliding out naturally, his breath going from ragged pants back to normal.

I lay there a little while longer, feeling his cum dripping out of me. I asked, "Will you do that again to me? Next time we're together?"

"Sure," he sighed. "Can't get enough, can you, fag?"

This made my cock twitch again. I could only answer, "Yes, sir."

And that's how it's been since. On occasion he'll want things outside of our nights together. When he was going through a rough patch with his Marsha, I would meet him in the parking garage after work and suck him off before we both went home to our wives. I'm still all man to my Missus but when Tony and I get together, I'm his bitch, completely.

Nov 14, 2008

Sexy Goth Girl

Zoe Smith

Zoe Smith

Zoe Smith

Came across these pix the other day. Apparently they're of Zoe Smith, a very attractive lass.

Nov 5, 2008

Secret Desires

I can't stop thinking about it. I keep trying to drive it out of my head because I don't want to admit that it's on my mind at all. But, no matter how hard I try, it's still there. It's haunting me.

Two weeks ago, my girlfriend invited her old boyfriend over to our apartment for dinner. There was a lot of wine and, despite my discomfort, a lot of flirting. Sharon couldn't seem to keep her hands off of Charlie, her former flame. For a little while, I almost felt like I wasn't in the room at all; that it was all some kind of bad dream. That was until Sharon turned to Charlie and told him what a good lover he was and how unsatisfied she's been with me for the four years we've been together.

"I'm serious, Charlie. He's awful. His dick is too small and he can't eat pussy to save his life. I want him to be good at something; I mean, I love having him around but he can't please me."

The silence was deafening. It seemed like everything was hinging on the next words to come out of her mouth.

"I'd like to see what he can do for you, though, if you're open to it," she said with a smile, her hand on his knee.

The grin on Charlie's face unfurled as he pushed back from the dinner table and began undoing his pants. "Certainly, I'll see if he can be of any use."

"Okay, Louis, let's see what you can do."

I don't know what possessed me. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the tone of her voice. Maybe it was the chance to make good in Sharon's eyes. Maybe it was the sight of Charlie's cock as he released it from his pants. My eyes were drawn to it and I couldn't look away. I felt like a sleepwalker as I knelt and crawled to him.

I took him in my hands, amazed by the sheer weight of his organ. It wasn't some freakishly huge porn star penis, but, still, I was taken aback by its girth and the way it felt in my hands as I began stroking it. I loved the touch of it, the way it reacted, the life there in Charlie's cock. There was something beautiful about it. Something compelling. I put my mouth on it to kiss it and felt it jerk and jump under my lips. I put it between them, putting it into my mouth and feeling the velvety smoothness of his cockhead against my tongue.

I felt his fingers enter my hair and take ahold. He began moving me up and down the length of his cock, pushing it further and further into my mouth, pushing me all the way down and holding me there, my eyes watering and gagging slightly. I could feel the tight flesh of his balls under my chin.

As he held me there, it felt like a floodgate were opening in my head, something changing inside of me. And then I felt another flood as his cock leaped and spat, filling my mouth and throat with his warm liquid. As I swallowed, it felt as if I were imbibing a new life...but a life that I would deny.

Now it's two weeks later and I can't get the thought of Charlie's cock out of my head. I can't stop thinking about that evening and wanting it to all happen again, and more. I've lain awake at night imagining Charlie taking me up in his arms, holding me, hugging me. I've thought about us laying in bed together, him behind me, spooning me, feeling the hardness of his cock rousing beneath my bottom and thinking about how it might feel to have him slide it inside of me, into my ass.

This is terrible. This is something I can't admit to Sharon, to Charlie, to anyone. I don't even know if Charlie is the man that I've been thinking of, but that I've been thinking of any man at all, wanting this, is disastrous. I never thought like this before. These kind of thoughts have never crossed my mind but, now, they're all I ever think about.

Worse, Sharon keeps reminding me about our time with Charlie. She's brought it up every day since then and has invited him over again tonight. She keeps referring to me as her "little cocksucker" and, every time she does it, I get aroused. I can't tell her that, of course. I frown and shake my head and secretly hope that he will put me on my back, raise my legs above his shoulders, and make me his tonight.

Oct 1, 2008

Love 'Em Green

Nothing better than a big busted green alien babe.

Sep 12, 2008

Sexy Therapist

Status Update

It's been a while since I've posted a story here. I don't know what's going on. The well hasn't necessarily run dry. Perhaps I put to much effort into Freedom is Slavery and the lack of response is killing me. Or it could just be a natural valley. I know, for sure, that I've not had a lot of experiences to "inspire" me lately.

I've had a couple of things rattling around in my head. Hopefully they'll come to fruition soon...

Aug 26, 2008

Book Sale!

The price set for Freedom is Slavery was far too high. I've managed to figure out a way to lower it. Rather than $25, it's been set to $12. Much better. Please use this link to get there! Enjoy!

Aug 6, 2008

Artful Picture

A lovely picture from here.

Sugasm #143

Thanks to Sugasm for linking to the picture of Ms. Elle with Lash

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #144? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Anti-Porn Protest Gets Weird
“People get very excited about their causes and lack the sense to see if the information backs them up. ”

The Come Shot
“You don’t see their bodies going blotchily red and hear them howling like a banshee.”

Third Time’s a Charm
“If I lift my kilt on Bourbon Street I’m much more likely to get arrested than if Elizabeth takes off her top.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
In My Office

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Jul 29, 2008

Best Thing About ComicCon

Ruby RocketThe best thing about ComicCon has to be the cosplay from potentially hot girls dressed as slutty comic characters. One of my all time favorite cosplay girls, Ruby Rocket, is highlighted here on Playboy's pictorial of hot fangirls. Please give her a vote if you agree that she's one spicy tamale.

Jul 28, 2008

Surprising Photo

I say "surprising" because Bryce Howard usually looks pretty freaky to me.

Bryce Howard

Jul 27, 2008

Book Now Available!

Freedom is Slavery I'm proud to announce the availability of Freedom is Slavery by Louis Friend, the first book of erotica/pornography available from

The book features a cavalcade of images of the lovely Ms. Elle and a stunning foreword from ZenFetish scribe, Angela St. Lawrence.

It's being self-published at and is available as a beautiful paperback book or a downloadable version. Please check it out feel free to leave reviews if you enjoy it! Thanks to everyone who's supported me in this venture!

More salty adventures are to come on the blog!

Jun 19, 2008

Jun 10, 2008

Sugasm 135

Thanks to for posting a link to my story Political Maneuvers!!

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #136? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
The Angel and the Devil
“Upon looking at my creamy white and feeling my soft lips you would think I am an angel.”

How To Approach A Dominant Woman
“Wrong way: Perhaps you know me from my blog….”

“Lying back so the full aura from the lamp lights the area in question, I spread my legs and let him see.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
How does one trust?

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Jun 6, 2008

Lovely Ladies

Sugasm 134

Big thanks to the folks at Sugasm for picking up my story Cerebral Trainee Subject: Susan Part 2 for this week's post!

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #135? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Tantra is work and a two way street
“Tantra is hard work and is not all light and orgasmic play.”

“She smiles wantonly, but says nothing.”

“But when you’re really attracted to someone, and part of that attraction is to their dominance, it almost gives you a second wind for pain.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
Discussing a lifestyle event with strangers

More Sugasm
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See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Jun 2, 2008

Political Maneuvers

I detest Family Politics. It's like living in a soap opera that you can't escape. But there are times when the pressures of the family can have some benefits if you look at it right.

Madeline is the matriarch of my wife's family. The old bird is slightly to the right of Atilla the Hun and a little more rich than William Randolph Hearst. She kept the purse strings pulled tight, dangling them over the heads of her children from the time they were born and always threatening to remove them from her will if they caused her any grief.

Despite a few scrapes with the law and never finishing anything she started, my wife's sister Anne maintained a tenuous grasp at staying in her mother's good graces. That could all change, though, if Madeline learned of who Anne had been spending time with. Anne was strictly forbidden (the way a five year old is forbidden from touching the stove) from having any contact with her former fiance.

Like I said; a soap opera. And, like all soaps, this story needed a villain. I was more than happy to step in.

I approached her one night at her apartment--inviting myself over with the ruse of needing to discuss the perfect birthday gift for my wife--armed with photographs of Anne and her ex-fiance taken only the week before.

It's not that I wanted to cause Anne any distress. It's just that I wanted her.

"What the fuck? You followed me!?!" she screamed.

"I did. You'd been acting... differently, lately," I replied as calmly as I could.

She collapsed onto her couch, her head in her hands, and started crying. "Can't you fucking see? I was happy! Happy!"

It was always a drama with Anne.

"You can still be happy, Anne. But I want to be happy, too."

Her tears, half crocodile/half genuine, began to recede. "What do you mean?"

"Simply this; I've been attracted to you since the day I met you. I'd be willing to make sure Madeline never sees these pictures as long as you'd be willing to, uh, fulfill my needs."

"You mean... you want to fuck me? That's sick! You're my sister's husband!"

"I don't see anything sick about it, Anne. Your sister's a wonderful woman, but she doesn't satisfy me in the bedroom. I know you're a hot piece of ass, and that's what I need. Think of it as saving her marriage and saving yourself a lot of grief by putting out for me." I was amazed at how calm I remained while pleading my case to her. I'd thought these words so many times before, pulling my pud in private or banging my wife while imagining Anne instead.

I could hear the wheels turning in her head; I practically smelled the smoke. Anne had a lot going on with her trim, toned body but there wasn't much happening above the neck, so to speak. She stood and came closer to me. The look in her eye was one of smoldering hatred. I would have preferred smoldering lust.

She grabbed the photos out of my hand and violently shredded them into tiny pieces. The look of satisfaction and defiance on her face when she was done was priceless. I began to laugh, stepping closer to her and putting my hand on her shoulder.

"The originals and the negatives are in my safety deposit box, Anne." She turned away from me. I put my mouth to her ear and whispered, "You don't have to give me everything, Anne. I just want one part of you. I don't want your heart, just your ass."

She spun around and went to hit me. I caught her wrist with one hand and grabbed the other. I wanted her to realize that I had the upper hand. "It's the thing your sister won't do for me," I hissed. "A man has needs. I can find a whore who will let me fuck her ass when the need arises and break your sister's heart or you and I can come to an understanding. You can still give your pussy away to whoever you want, but I need your ass, understood?"

She was scared now; her eyes were wide. The arms slowly went slack with what I could only describe as resolve. She looked down and quietly muttered, "Yes."

"That's 'yes, Sir,' Anne. Show a little respect."

Her temper flared again but I held tight to her wrists. I'm sure she'd see bruises there later. I didn't divert my gaze, staring her down until she finally capitulated. "Yes, sir," she spit out.

"Good." I released her wrists, almost expecting her to take a swing at me. When she didn't, I took hold of the bottom of her blouse and raised it, lifting it up and over her head. Her flat stomach was wonderfully appealing, accented by the silver navel piercing. I wistfully thought back to the days when my wife's stomach was the same way. I reached behind her, pulling her close, to unclasp her bra. She let it slide down and off her arms, allowing me to see the breasts I had long lusted after, especially on warm summer days at her mother's summer cottage.

"Take down your pants," I told her. She nodded and slid undid her button fly jeans, taking them off over her shapely hips, showing me the plain cotton panties beneath. These were the kind of panties that a girl wears when her brother in law is coming over to talk about birthday presents for her sister, they weren't the scanty underwear one dons for a lover. I made note to tell her to wear better undies the next time I came over to fuck her.

I reached down to her plain underwear and felt the rise and fall of her labia. I wanted to feel the soft fur that lined them but a promise is a promise. Instead, I turned her around and pulled her panties down. Her ass looked delicious; completely creamy white and absolutely inviting. Moved her to her living room couch and bent her over it, not necessarily caring if she was comfortable.

I had been hard from the moment I entered the room, knowing what was to come. I let my pants fall to the floor, spit in my hand, and began slicking my dick. I thought briefly about using a condom but didn't want to take the time to dig one out, nor did I want to go without leaving her something to remember me by.

I spread her cheeks and I hear her gasp. I placed the head of my dick against her opening and pushed, waiting for her to open up to me and give me entrance. Finally, she did and I savored the sensation of her muscles working against me, feeling the heat from deep inside of her. She moaned, more from pain than pleasure. I held on to ass, one hand on each cheek, slightly pulling her apart while pushing into her. Feeling her body give in; making it accept my girth as I entered her deeply.

"This is what I wanted," I said to her. "This is all I've wanted from you since the day we met. Do you remember that day? Do you remember the cute little skirt you wore? The way you bent over was divine. Ever since then, I've been dreaming of putting it to you like this. I even thought about it on my wedding night. When I came in Sarah, I was thinking about cumming in your ass, Anne. I've been fucking your ass for years, but only this time it's real, and, shit, it's so good. And, to think, I can have this whenever I want. Isn't that right?"

She squealed in anguish from the pain and from my words. I was balls deep inside of her, now, just feeling her spasm around me. Feeling her guts grasp and release at my cock like the violent intruder it hoped to expel. That fight was wonderful... It practically shot me out of her as I pulled back, and fought me twice as hard as I pushed back inside. I watched her hands grasp tight before spreading her fingers wide, her mouth gasping for air like a land-bound fish.

I began thrusting in and out, my body soon taking over, my eyes rolling back into my head as I neared the precipice. With one last grasp from her ass, I began cumming long and loudly inside of her. It was better than I had ever imagined it could be. Her ass practically coaxed every last drop of satisfaction from me before pushing me back out again, leaving her with my milky white fluid dripping down her thighs.

I left the room to clean up, leaving her laying over the arm of the couch, sobs wracking her body. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw that crying was pushing out a flood of my cum. I almost grabbed a washcloth to wiper it away but decided against it. I wanted her to know where she stood with me or, rather, where she lay.

When I came back from the bathroom, she was huddled up on the couch, still naked. I stood at the door and gave her one final look. Even in such a state, I admired the shape of her body and looked forward to the next time I would take advantage of her.

Another Possible Cover Image

Or perhaps this would be better for the back cover. Get it? Yee haw.

May 26, 2008

Possible Cover Image

I had a great photo shoot this weekend where I got some pix for the upcoming Prurient Interests book (which I'm thinking of calling "Freedom is Slavery"). I was intending to do this but I think I may have snapped the shot that I'm going to use for a cover image. The jury is still out.

May 19, 2008

Cerebral Trainee Subject: Susan Part 2

Sexy Robot

I don't think I took Susan for granted. I always appreciated coming home at the end of a long day at the firm to find her at her assigned post, my dinner in the warmer next to her head. As instructed, she was bent over the dinner table, legs spread, ready for me if I chose to fuck her. While dinner smelled and looked delicious, she was even more enticing.

I decided to use her ass, enjoying the look of my cock going inside of her. Pants down around my knees, I entered her quickly. The mechanizations made a sound like a gasp and I felt the internal machinations working on me to provide even more pleasure.

Master had been experimenting at anal sex for the past fourteen months. This was challenging at first, maintaining the proper amount of lubrication and tension to give him maximum pleasure. We were warned during CETS training that our behinds would be used far more than our traditional "sex parts." This thrilled me to no end. The contract promised that I could be used twenty-four hours a day for five years and this just added to the debasement I craved.

My knees, bent slightly, moved up and down to give better motion against Master as he fucked me. My internal sensors measured his heartbeat, blood pressure, and breathing pattern. Once it reached the proper amount I would begin adding an extra 2 psi of pressure to squeeze him to orgasm. The temperature of my bottom raised an extra degree, warming he and his hands as they clung to my dermal layer.

He began thrusting harder. His cock increased in diameter and my bottom decreased to match, doubling the pressure on him, bringing him to orgasm.

My ears were filled with the sound of a loud beeping. Something was seriously wrong! I felt my knees give way and I collapsed onto the ground, my head thunking against the corner of the table. The world went black.

I panicked. The sound of her servos suddenly got very loud. Though I kept her well lubricated, I had heard that the joints on a CETS DS had been prone to failure. The sight of her laying crumpled at my feet was pathetic, made more so as my cum dripped onto her backside. I commanded her to perform a self-diagnostic. She was unresponsive. I got down on the floor and turned her over. There was a dent in her head that didn't look good. I opened up her chassis and began feeling for the reset switch. I remembered learning about this during training as it was of crucial importance.

In the past some CETS units had experienced cyberdelusions which warped their programs, creating mock "personalities" which were outside of predetermined protocols. The reset was supposed to clear out their system through a 30 joule electric pulse that essentially "put their mind right," resetting their program. We were discouraged to use the reset button as it brought about unpleasant responses from the units. They went into fits, looking like the scenes from spools they showed in MedT classes of the barbaric days of EST.

My fingers were probing her inner workings and I prayed that I didn't upset any of her circuitry. I wondered how deep I had to reach. I brushed against something that felt particularly warm and almost soft. It must have been insulation but almost felt like skin.

Suddenly she stirred and I silently breathed a sigh of relief. I probably wouldn't have to reset her after all. That would have most likely have required a reprogramming of nearly everything I'd taught her in the last week since her back-up.

It's funny, but I didn't think I could get this attached to a thing; a robot, but I found that I was cradling her in my arms like she was a sick child. I placed her back down on the floor and sent a missive to CETS to get her in for immediate repairs.

When Master touched me, it brought me back from the dream I was having. I felt like Sleeping Beauty being kissed by her prince. I didn't entertain any fantasy about romance. I knew my place. I just hadn't been touched by anyone in almost two years. That was about to change, radically, once I arrived at the CETS EngFac.

We were greeted by one of the CETS X7s. I could tell by the large chassis and overmodulated voice. It sounded ultrafemme, belying that a male lay hidden under the female dermis. I had experienced one of these at a party Master had taken me to a few months before.

Master usually seemed to abide by the law. I was surprised, then, when he took me to a Christmas Party.

My mother had told me about Christmas and this didn't seem like what she had described. There was no tree; instead there was a pair of CETS units engaged in intercourse in the middle of the room while wrapped up in tiny colored lights.

This wasn't the first time that Master had me engage with another unit but definitely one of the most public events (to that point). Master utilized me as a party favor for his boss's favorite unit, a CETS X7; part of the Lola line.

When interfacing with another CETS, Owners enjoy the illusion of robotic harmony. Often I switch all manual controls off and, once I'm plugged into the other unit, simply follow along with one of the preprogrammed scenarios. The engineers at CETS had equipped all of us with a core group of 26896 components with which our internal processors could negotiate any manner of programs. These components were also upgraded and increases on occasion during periods of daily maintenance.

The Lola didn't respond to my protocols. I pinged it again. Nothing. A message came across, "No Preprogrammed Scenarios Accepted. Improvisation Required."

"Affirmed. Initiate intercourse."

We danced. We entered each others' arms and began the slow perfunctory steps, our mouths engaging. It was bliss. Master may be a considerate Owner but he treats me for what I am; a (living) CETS doll. He's never been sadistic but he's never treated me like a human, either. This Lola unit, though sold as a female, was taking me like a man with his lover. My own pulse rate had increased 15 percent and my hormone count had gone up so much that I knew it would be flagged back at the CETS relay station. My vagina was producing real secretions, not synthetic. I felt her invade me with two fingers while her tongue still explored my mouth. My legs parted wider and my servos went from whirring gears to sounding like a pleasant purr.

"You may have to take your Susan in for an overhaul once my Lola gets done with her," I heard Master's boss say as Lola laid me out on the central dais. She straddled my head with her legs and I experienced my first Lola unit. The key difference between she and I lay in the way her authentic sexual organs were covered by the dermic layer. Inside of the unit's labia lay the underside of the CETS's penis. What doubled as a clitoris was tied directly to the sensitive spot under the head of his penis. Of course, everything looked female and responded just as my equipment did. It was a fascinating answer to allowing men to serve as female-outfitted units.

I locked my lips onto her clit and began licking. I employed the vibrating tip, varying the speed and intensity randomly. Meanwhile, she did the same on me, bending over and applying her tongue to my clitoris. I could tell that she wasn't running any kind of program. She was on full manual. The lubricant across her tongue slicked me up, allowing her ease of entry with her fingers again. One slid into my vagina, the other into my behind. Immediately she began pistoning deep into me, one retracting while the other extended over and over again with mechanical precision, further contrasting her tongue's organic rhythm on my clit.

Following her lead, I turned everything over to manual control as I licked her. This change of intensity and speed threw her into a new fury of activity. Her legs clenched my head, blocking my audio sensors as she began to emit a high-whining howl. Her fingers began increasing in diameter, filling me up and triggering the sequences that threw my body into an electronic orgasm. I began beeping loudly, my servo whirring like mad.

Sexy Robot

I was shown to a plush lounge, only fitting for CETS owners, and awaited the initial estimates on Susan. Various other CETS units were present for pleasure and service. One particularly caught my eye, a very small unit that I had only seen in the company's optic catalog, a CETS UA16. A slight creation, she looked incredibly delicate. Had I not known that her chassis was enforced with an adamantium alloy I would have thought she were made out of tissue paper.

The CETS CustRep came in to inform me of Susan's condition. She required an over haul on her joints that would take at least twelve hours. "We understand that you shouldn't be without a unit during that duration. Might we interest you in a loaner?"

"Yes, I'd like to try that one," I said, indicating the UA16. A strange look crossed his face and I sensed that he was hesitant to let her go.

"Um, sir, that unit is still in Beta mode. We have yet to release it to the public, you understand--"

"That's perfect. I'd be more than happy to beta test for you over the next two days while my DS is in the shop. It sounds perfect. Thank you for offering!" I stood up and shook his hand, leaving his jaw working slightly.

Returning to the CETS shop after two years felt a bit like a homecoming. I was dollied in through the familiar corridors. The faces of the technicians all registered. Of course, none of them recognized me. I was just another CETS DS. They'd seen thousands come through since our inception date and we all looked similar apart from the modifications made for our Masters.

They wheeled me into a repair room.

It was a horrorshow.

There were the regular repair jobs, like me, but then there were units that had been broken either via accident or on purpose by their owners. These were ghastly creatures. The first I saw bore the distinct marks of an electrolash. It had been whipped so severely that the unit's carapace had split from shoulder to bottom. Torn wires seemed to spring from the wound like a frozen splatter of blood.

Other units had limbs bent in unnatural positions, or removed completely. A few were impaled on objects. One poor X9 was missing her entire lower jaw. These were the dangers we were warned before we signed our lives away to CETS for our contracts. I was prepared for something like this to happen to me, but never thought I'd see the results presented so matter-of-factly. If it were still possible, a shiver would have run down my spine.

As it was, I used my focal enhancers to take in as much as I could. Incapacitated, I was stuck in a corner awaiting a technician. I was seated next to a MA42 (commonly called a "Mom-ocon"). She looked at me with her one good eye and offered a connection patch. I interfaced with her.

"Inquiry: How long have you been here?"

"Response: One day."

"Inquiry: What happened to your eye?"

"Response: I fell."

"Inquiry: T/F?"

"Response: F - Preprogrammed Reply"

"Statement: Roger."

I wished every CETS doll was owned by people as nice as my Master.

To my other side was a relatively new unit, a UA16. They were incredibly anthropomorphized, bereft of much of thee extra hardware that marked most CETS units. The UA line was the first that were made for AnthroWear, heavy duty casings that resembled clothes. This provided the Company with another source of income and gave the UAs more "personality." That's what seemed to be the problem with this particular Robin. In clipped, terse exchange she told me that every time she exhibited any kind of the Defiance/Rebellion programs with which she was integrated that her owner reset her, feeling it was a bug. Her Master wanted no personality; something counter to the UAs selling point! This particular Robin was undergoing robopsychosis and had even begun disassembling herself during daily maintenance.

Out of the gloom I saw the outline of one of the rarest CETS line. It moved toward me and I strained to capture every angle, figuring it would ambulate past me before becoming a distant memory. Instead, it stopped right in front of me and indicated that I was to open my legs. I complied, wondering what it would be like to interface with CETS XY9, one of their few male-equipped CETS units.

The UA16 came with a clothes locker full of outfits. She was definitely more maintenance than Susan. She was definitely more... coy. And, unlike Susan, I had to practically talk her into getting onto her knees and servicing my needs.

The outer shell of the CETS XY9 was scarred and scratched as if it had been in battle. This added a rugged quality that was almost enough to initiate my programs on their own. What really triggered me was interfacing with the unit. He had a soft edge to his queries and responses that made me wonder if it was actually a biofemme inside of the male chassis.

The logic matrix of the UA16 was at once sophisticated and simplistic. I ran a series of queries against it, learning its strange series of conditionals that allowed to me to "seduce" this "innocent" unit. I engaged her with the promise that what I held inside of me tasted yummy and that I'd be willing to share. She'd simply have to suck it out.

Her smaller mouth provided more tension when she sucked my cock. Her "hair" was in a pigtail configuration which also served as handles I could use to direct and guide her as she moved her head up and down on my lap.

The XY9 was between my legs, its sex tool fully engaged. Through its porous outer covering it expelled lubricant. My olfactory sensors diffused it as pineapple-scented, a definite add-on to the model's base package.

He grabbed my broken legs and pulled me forward, up and onto him, penetrating my sexual orifice with inhuman skill. He held onto me tightly while his cock pistoned in and out of me, filling me, fitting me perfectly as a bolt fits a nut.

I had the little UA16 stand up and give me access to her pussy. The unit was well built; intelligent enough to have already pre-moistened her opening to indicate readiness and excitement. I told the UA16 that her mouth wasn't doing the trick and that I needed her to turn around and get onto my lap to help.

Her pussy was wonderfully form-fitting and seemed even tighter than Susan's. I'd have to have the technicians adjust her to provide the same delightful sensation I experienced while the UA16 bounced her perky ass off of my lap.

He pounded me, jackhammering me with his cock. My thighs clutched at his sides, my arms wrapped around his back. In the workroom I felt safe to express myself, turning off my safety protocols and moaning with abandon. Images of us in our sexual embrace filled my sensors from every broadcasting cam in the room, creating a mental montage that practically overloaded my circuits. I felt a diode switch, putting me into orgasm mode and flooding my system with pleasure.

I felt her pussy lock down on my cock; internal motors took over the action of manipulating my pleasure. The UA16 began shaking and shuddering, a low wail emanating from the many speakers around her body, creating a symphony of pleasure as she went into O-Mode. Usually the CETS units wait to initiate until after their owners trigger. Perhaps since this one wasn't mine… Regardless… this extra motion and her mechanized lows put me over the edge.

Our systems synchronized and the XY9 climaxed as well, injecting my innards with synthspunk, a quick-dissolving substance whose residue should only act as internal lubricant until my next maintenance cycle removed it.

Sexy Robot

The UA16 looked like a young girl and was programmed to act accordingly, maddeningly so at times. When not engaged in intercourse, her speakers emitted a steady stream of chatter with audio programs running unsynched from one speaker to another making her sound like a busy turbo station. When I finally disengaged her audio out, the unit went into a lull that I would describe as "pouting" if I had to put a word to it. Worse, she didn't have the proper housekeeping programs installed. There were no domestic tasks in her matrix. I vowed to be up early to get to the EngFac, as long as the UA16 had a proper working chronometer.

I interfaced with the XY9 three more times that night. I had to run an emergency maintenance in the morning before the techs came in and diagnosed me as having an excess of synthspunk in my vaginal cavity.

The XY9 kept many of his pathways isolated, though I learned that he had been at EngFac for a while as he was being reprogrammed from HeS to HoS, a rarity amongst the CETS but certainly something not unheard of. Most units were required to undergo at a required rewrite for BiS but Hes to HoS (or vice-versa) was a radical procedure generally frowned upon by the CETS volunteers. Judging from our interface sessions, the XY9 had a number of bugs still remaining.

Fortunately, the issue with my knees simply required installation of replacement parts and not Med overhaul. Too many of the EngFac tech area were in need of internal repairs which could put them out of commission if not compatible with their exoshells.

Three hours late, I arrived back at CETS EngFac, more anxious than ever to get my Susan back. The UA16 had worn out her welcome. I debriefed with the CETS CustRep, giving a full report about my brief Beta test. He made a few notes and placed sent a missive before taking me into the greeting area where some customers are first introduced to their CETS units.

They wheeled Susan out to the showroom, she was a sight for sore eyes. The tech activated her, going over the repairs and running her through a diagnostic cycle to show that her joints had all been replaced under warranty. The tech and CustRep excused themselves, leaving Susan and I alone.

I didn't realize just how much I missed Master until I saw him waiting for me in the plush showroom. My system indicated a ten percent increase in heartrate and two degree temperature fluctuation. I also began producing system lubricant via an autonomic reaction. After running through my paces, the tech and CustRep gave us privacy, a sign of respect to Master's status.

He gave me a number of commands, proving out my new joints and putting me into rather provocative positions. I engaged my servos with extra flair, giving him a cybersexy show. I felt his hands move across my dermal layer, firing off multiprocessors throughout my system.

"Show me your latest modification," he commanded. Compliantly I positioned myself on all fours, spreading my legs wide and giving him plenty of access to my retooled cavity.

The only good thing about the UA16 was her pussy, featuring the best in CETS technology. The CustRep had Susan retrofitted with a comparable unit before giving her back to me. The difference was immediately apparent. She positively crackled with energy, her pussy humming around my cock when I entered her. She latched on, arched her back, and the whir of machinery gave off the signature feline purr that made the CETS DS famous.

My circuits were firing, lighting me up like the "Christmas Tree" at Master's party. He had never felt so good inside of me before. I ran a series of programs, layering them on one another in such a way that my chassis vibrated with activity. I ran several scenarios; working calculations for optimum pleasure. My vaginal excretions were increased ten percent, mixing in a stimulant at two parts per billion and a blend of endorphins at four parts per billion. When contacting Master's skin, this sent his biorhythms into the red.

I gasped, desperate for breath, as she bucked and fucked with as much vigor as the offworld sluts on Ceres. It almost felt like her battery was leaking juice as she electrified me, every hair stood on end.

I set a countdown, anticipating the moment that I could bring him to climax, gradually increasing pressure and friction until he passed the point of no return. The trigger step was imminent. My vox processors mewled, "Yes, Master, please fuck me." The countdown completed and Master began his climax.

Her pussy massaged ever last ounce of pleasure from my body. I collapsed onto her, my heart still racing. She lowered herself to the floor and I felt her internals move into gear, sending slight vibrations through me to massage and soothe. It was good to have Susan back again.

Sexy Robot

May 18, 2008

Fairuza and her Beautiful Mouth

Such A Mama's Boy

“Good morning, Michael. It’s time to get up, sleepyhead. It’s nearly 9 o’clock.”
“Sorry, Mama, I’ve just been so sleepy lately.”
“It’s okay, honey. You’re a growing boy. It’s to be expected. Here, I brought you a glass of milk.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you noticed all the changes that your body has been going through?”
“Yes, Mama, it’s pretty strange.”
“I bet! Tell me, Michael, has your penis been acting funny? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
“Yes, Mama, it has.”
“What does it do? Does it get stiff?”
“Yes, Mama. It does. And at the strangest times.”
“Oh! Do tell. Tell me when it gets that way.”
“It got that way at school the other day when Mrs. Beaton dropped her eraser and bent over to get it. I’m not sure what that means, Mama.”
(Laughs) “It’s okay, honey. That’s natural. Just because it gets stiff doesn’t mean anything, honey. Do you ever do anything to it when it’s stiff?”
“Yes, Mama. It feels good when I rub it.”
“Michael, I want you to show me how you do that. Mama wants to see.”
“Are you sure, Mama? I feel funny showing you my penis.”
“It’s okay, Michael. I’ve seen it before. I only want to help.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“That’s very nice. It looks very good when it’s stiff, or hard, like that. What do you think got it hard now?”
“I don’t know Mama. Should I rub it now?”
“Yes, Michael. Oh, that’s very nice. However, I think Mama can show you a way to make it feel even better. Would you like that?”
“Oh! Yes, Mama.”
“Here, let me wrap my fingers around it this way and then stroke it a bit. There, now, doesn’t that feel better?”
“Yes, Mama. Oh, it feels so good.”
“Good. When you rub it, what do you think about?”
“Mama, it’s the strangest thing. I get little pictures in my head of things and people.”
“Like what? Like who?”
“Well, Mrs. Beaton, Aimee – my friend from school, and sometimes even you, Mama.”
“Oh really? What am I doing in those little pictures?”
“I think of what you look like when you come out of the shower, Mama.”
“Ahhh. You like that? Good. Does this still feel nice?”
“Oh, yes, Mama. It feels so good.”
“Good. Ladies can make men feel good this way. Would you like to learn how men make Ladies feel nice? Would you like to make Mama feel nice and be her good boy?”
“Yes, Mama. I’d like to know.”
“Okay, I just need to open my robe. Is this how you picture me when you’re touching your penis?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“You like Mama’s naked body? Her big breasts?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. That’s a good boy. I’m going to give you more to think about in a few minutes here. Now, get out of bed and get on the floor. On your knees. I’m going to sit here at the edge of the bed and you’re going to get to look at and taste Mama’s vagina.”
“Mama, I never knew what women looked like down there.”
“That’s right… you’ve only looked at Mama’s breasts and Mrs. Beaton’s ass. Here, look at Mama’s ass.”
“Oh, it’s so nice and rounded.”
“And, look here… Look at Mama’s pretty asshole. Now, before I let you lick my vagina, I’m going to have you practice a bit by licking here. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Now, take your tongue and lick around here. That’s good. That’s very good. Now, push your tongue into me a bit. In and out and back in again. Push it in as deep as you can.”

May 12, 2008

Dominating the Cinema

I'm working on an article about BDSM in popular culture. Any instances jump to mind? Madonna as a ProDomme in Body of Evidence? Angelina Jolie as a BDSM assassin in Mr. & Mrs. Smith? Michelle Pfieffer with her whip in Batman Returns?

What else comes to mind?

May 6, 2008

Prurient Interests: The Book?

I've been asked a few times and now I'm finally doing it. I'm collecting my favorite stories from this site and putting them together in a smutty book. I'll be making this available via and, of course, this blog.

The one area that I'm lacking in a bit is photos. If anyone has any pictures they'd be willing to share (especially for the cover), please send them my way - - high resolution photos to which I can have the "rights" for this project, please!

The interior will sport about two dozen b&w photos that will probably be close-ups of body parts. I know that this is objectification and rather fetishistic but I just don't care. It's easier than finding someone who's comfortable showing their face!

May 5, 2008

Cerebral Trainee Subject: Susan

The package arrived on a Thursday. I was so excited that I could barely contain myself. For all of the pomp and circumstance of my purchase, I had to laugh to myself about the plain wooden crate. I almost expected a customer representative from CETS to have brought the package to my door personally, accompanied by a five piece brass band. I mean, I had spent enough to merit this kind of treatment, as well. As it was, the innocuous package loomed on my porch and might as well have been something ordered through Sharper Image.

Six months before I first approached CETS. I was celebrating my promotion to Senior Management and found that all of my new co-workers had their own personal unit. I wanted to keep up with the Big Boys and needed one of my own. I went through the whole spiel. The song and dance routine that lead to a velvet soft sale. My rep was clever. He knew how to appeal both to my vanity and my bank account while handling all of the sordid details. He transformed the experience from what could have been a simple catalog selection and user's manual to an Experience.

I underwent a battery of personality tests, credit applications, and psychological examinations. After my selection, I was enrolled in a six week training class that ran for four hours every Wednesday night. It was a major investment in time and cost but I knew it'd all be worth it once this moment arrived.

I don't remember the first time I heard about CETS but the idea was repulsive. It went against everything that I had been taught all my life. But, somewhere deep inside, it awakened a piece of me that I couldn't admit existed. It appealed to an idea I had when I was little. Someone to take care of me, in every way. Complete control. There was a safety there that was comforting. I was always the person who took care of everyone else. This was a chance for someone to take care of me for a change. Though morally repugnant, I found myself thinking about it at the oddest times. When I caught myself masturbating at the same time, I finally admitted that this was for me. Plus, the money was exactly what I needed.

I could spend five years toling away at a shitty job where I was far more degraded and make a small percentage of what I'd make in five years at CETS. And, if the commercial was right, I wouldn't remember anything anyway. I'd wake up five years later with a healthy bank account and feel like only a day had passed. And, who knows, maybe I'd choose to keep the memories if they were fun.

I underwent a battery of personality tests, psychological examinations, and physical evaluations. After my selection, I began a rigorous six month program of re-education and surgical procedures that configured me to the exact specifications which had been demanded. It was a major ordeal but I knew it'd all be worth it once this moment arrived.

A better description for the crate, once I saw inside, would be "coffin." This was the impression that the satin lining provided. The woman inside, stiff as a corpse, added to this as well. Her arms were crossed and there was almost a deathly pallor to her features but this was explained away by the specifications I agreed to at the showroom. I retrieved my notes, including the quick "cheat sheet" that CETS provides to new customers, and gave the initiation command. "Initialize," I said. I thought I may have been too quiet at first as nothing happened immediately. I was on the verge of saying it again when I caught sight of her chest rising and falling slightly.

The combination of drugs and hypnotism put the "subjects" (as we were always called publicly) into a near-catatonic state. We were especially "zonked" during the last three weeks of "programming" when the doctors finally added real wires to us—just as we had been "rewired" mentally. I was awake during this time but it was as if I was looking at someone else undergoing the procedure rather than myself. That my physical appearance had been altered significantly increased this perception, I'm sure.

That first word that my Owner spoke took me out of the deep trance into which I was placed before being boxed and shipped. Thank goodness the programming had removed any latent claustrophobia! I was sure that a good deal of my fears had been whisked away over the preceding six months. There was no telling what an Owner would do to his property and baseless fears needed to be removed to give the Owners more pleasure. I wondered how deeply the programming went. If my Owner told me to put my hand into a flame, could I do it? Would I? Would the second skin protect me from the heat? Certainly it could prevent abrasions and removed all unwanted body hair and sweat production (funneling this into an elimination procedures that was taken care of during "Daily Maintenance") but were we safe from the elements?

Though my pupils didn't deceive me, I looked into my Owner's eyes and felt that he probably wouldn't be putting me int harm's way. He looked like children did back when Christmas was still a legal holiday.

I think it was the eyes that caught my attention first. They opened as she leaned forward. They were an unnatural hue of violet and, when the light struck them, the pupils didn't react at all. Then I noticed that they didn't shift. Rather, the whole head turned when "looking" at its surroundings. "Her" surroundings. It was difficult to personify an object but the paperwork requested that I do. I had opted for a "Female" model and there was even a story that went along with this particular line; the Susan 0147. I had been given a packet of material at the showroom and could recall some of the highlights of the fictional background the CETS unit had.

It sat up from its casket and initiated a series of diagnostic tests, twisting each joint before finally placing a foot outside the box and walking in the herky-jerk walk with which even the best CETS units exhibit. It, I mean "she", appeared flawless. There's always something so wonderful about a new piece of equipment. Her "skin" was polished, her "hair" bright and perfectly coiffed, and I could hear the creak of her joints before they were fully lubricated. Seeing how good she looked, I was glad I had opted for the self-grooming package which was guaranteed to keep her in tip-top condition.

Finally, she turned, blinked, and kneeled down at my feet. Her voice box emitted a hollow but fairly emotional rendition of "Awaiting further instruction, Master."

The sound of my own "voice" startled the hell out of me. I hadn't been allowed to speak for four months. What I heard wasn't my own voice, per se, but a mechanized version with a metallic tinge. It sounded like my voice over a satellite line to New Tokyo and back again.

I felt myself getting wet. This response had been conditioned into me, as automatic as a computer program. Behind the full lens eyes, I could see the affect that I was having on my Master.

Seeing her, kneeling down before me, gave me an immediate erection. I noticed the gloss painted across her lips, they looked wet, soft, and ready. Her knees were parted, keeping herself open at all times as the CETS units are programmed to do.

It was time to indulge myself, to test Susan, and feel the privilege that went with my new position and possession. Remembering back to the list of commands I ordered her, "Fellate Master."

I wasn't surprised that this was the first thing he wanted me to do. I had been prepared that most Masters will require fellatio more than anything else. This is why my mouth had been coated with a special film that provided better stimulation (including a small electrical vibration). CETS had also performed surgery to reshape my palette as well as ridding me of my gag reflex. I was now a cocksucking machine, amongst my other special skills. I was now, literally, made to do this.

I removed Master's cock from his trousers and heard myself cooing in an automated response. This garnered an equally appropriate reaction in Master as I felt his cock twitch in my hand. I heard my "eyes" move up, as if to look at his face, but my real eyes (behind the coverings) were on his penis as I took it into my mouth. A few gyros adjusted, forming my mouth and throat to fit him better. Every blowjob from a CETS doll was custom to the man enjoying it.

Her mouth fit me like a glove. I felt the vibration that CETS units are famous for. It was accompanied by a warmth and wetness that almost felt real. Her head began pistoning up and down on my penis, I could see the slick silicon-based oils that glistened like spit. And, I swear, I heard the unit moan as she pleasured me.

I knew exactly how he liked his cock sucked. It was part of my internal matrix. I ran a finger along the underside of his balls until I found his asshole. The faux dermis of my finger produced a fine layer of lubrication that helped me enter him with ease. Once inside, air was pumped into the "finger," filling up his ass and placing pressure on his prostate gland.

She did everything I liked, and nothing I didn't. I loved looking down into her violet doll eyes and seeing them "stare" back at me. She gulped and slurped at my cock like her life depended on it. The small sound of servos kept whirring and a moan came from somewhere deep inside her circuits. It was astounding. The pressure on my prostate and the sucking of her mouth finally became too much. I didn't even bother to hold back, knowing that I could (and would) use her whenever I wanted. This revelation was liberating and I think I came more from that than even the pleasure she provided.

He pumped his cum inside of me. It was vacuumed down, past a processor placed in my stomach while the internal washing process began to clean and dry his cock. From what I've been told, the sensation is gentle and delightful. I dreamed that perhaps one day, five years and some months from now, I'd have my own CE.T.S. doll to serve me. But, for now, I belonged to Master and felt complete, existing only for his every whim.

Continue to Part 2