Forced To Frustration free porn video

Forced to Frustration by Tegeli A fully equipped kitchen was more of a status symbol than practical addition to the penthouse. I opened the drawers until I found the cutlery. As I expected, they were pristine, possibly completely unused. I grabbed a knife, and screamed. A forbidding burning sensation pulsed from the regulation implant in my neck. I dropped the knife back to the drawer, fighting back the tears of pain and shock. The warden AI had known what I had intended. I wouldn't be able to escape the constant oversight. Returning to the living room, I tripped and nearly fell. The heels of my 'inmate's uniform' were impractically high. Just another humiliation to the list. The shoes weren't much worse than the frilly short skirt that didn't even hide the tops of my thigh-highs. The similarly frilly blouse was also quite ridiculous. The wall-screen opened automatically into mirror-mode, force-feeding me a glance of myself. With my makeup and hair, I did seem like a girl, despite having no alterations save for the removal of the inconvenient facial and body hair. I regretted not having gone for masculine upgrades earlier. Now it was too late. Altering my bogus sentence into 'public service' in the penthouse of a private person was not justice. It was petty revenge for daring to defy them. Pure arbitrary power-trip. That their idea of subservience involved forcing me to act and dress like a girl, just emphasized how messed up they were. I didn't even know who 'they' were. Everything had been a swirl for the last few months. I was surprised, and briefly elated, that I had managed to garner attention from the authorities. For a brief moment of glory, I had been proper revolutionary, even if I hadn't done anything. The uncomfortably tight device engulfing my genitals was a constant reminder that the rights to my own body were under their control. Not that I would have needed the access to my penis in my situation, but the stimulant I had been forcibly given kept me steadily aroused, despite by my fretful state. Presumably I would be forced to demean myself and beg for 'release'. The disgust for my captors almost made me feel better, but moral righteousness didn't win against the fear of pain. I channelled my anxiety into curiosity. The penthouse was quite large, and I had access to most rooms. There wasn't much to find, as the apartment was clearly barely used. The thought that I had been incarcerated in luxury housing would have been amusing, if the clumsy clicking my heels hadn't followed me around, reminding me that I had more common with the furniture than the inhabitants. Despite myself, I began to wish I'd be granted the use of the physical luxuries. But that would surely come only by accepting a level of debasement I was not willing to lower myself to. I was a human being, not an object for idle amusement. The warden AI wouldn't let me leave, even to the balcony, or give me access to any of the systems, so with nothing to do, my boredom eventually overcame my dread and I relaxed a little. My owner arrived in the afternoon. He wasn't particularly remarkable, though perhaps his commitment to standard manly handsomeness was pass? enough to be noteworthy. I was enough of a mixed fashion disaster for the both of us. Because I figured the AI would punish me for impoliteness, I stood up. He glanced at me, like one might check if the couch hadn't been stolen, and walked to the next room. I was so surprised by the dismissiveness that I didn't move before he returned in more casual clothes. He walked to me, still not speaking, and evaluated me with his gaze. Up close he appeared huge, being a head taller than me. I might have been able to punch him before the AI retaliated, but I was too confused by his behaviour to act. "Is something wrong?" I asked. "So you can talk." He chuckled. "I guess that might be convenient, but I do not expect to have thrilling conversations with you. What sort of girl chooses your lot over a simple incarceration, anyhow?" "I didn't choose this! And I'm a guy!" The man was thoughtful for a moment. His expression brightened. "If true, that's actually good news. Perhaps there's some entertainment to be gained from you. Lift your skirt." The implant send a warning tingling, which would intensify every moment I refused a direct order. I couldn't look at the man in the eyes, while I obeyed. "Locked in tight, I see," he said. "That must be fun. You may lower the skirt." I did so with a sigh of relief. Clearly I wasn't as above the embarrassment as I would have liked. "My name is Maurice," he said. "But do call me master. In fact, I insist." "Alright, 'master'." "Good. Here's the rules: obey, keep pretending that you are a girl and make sure you stay pretty. Additionally, do not whine if I mistreat you. I don't give a damn." He walked to a table and took a datapad. After fiddling a moment with it, he returned to me. "Seems you have taken some steps to becoming a girl, or something akin to it." He showed me the list of medical upgrades I had taken. "No body hair, not even a moustache left. And this 'intestinal hygiene' package. I'm pretty sure that was for taking things up your butt without needing to clean yourself beforehand." "No! It maintains bowel health and rids me of... a disgusting chore." "Yeah, yeah. Let's try it." He nodded towards a sofa. "Get on all fours." The warning tingling was turning into pain, before I obeyed. Becasue I closed my eyes and concentrated on not whimpering, it took me a while to realize Maurice had disappeared. Yet I didn't dare to hope he would be satisfied with teasing me. Instead of risking punishment, I remained still. "Sorry for the wait," he said. "I don't have this sort of equipment at hand, so I had to have it fabbed." He showed me a stubby plug, which I assumed was a sex toy. I didn't know if I should have been happy that he wasn't going fuck my ass himself. "Another rule: you are not allowed to touch this plug, save except when absolutely necessary for hygiene. I presume it can stay in your butt almost indefinitely. Stay still." I couldn't obey entirely: my body trembled as he lifted my skirt. I yelped as he started pushing a finger into me. A single finger felt too much for my butt, and I began to fear what the significantly larger plug would do. "Oh, do relax, girl. It's like you haven't taken dick up your cute butt before." "I haven't!" He pulled his finger out. I would have been relieved, if I didn't know what would come next. I closed my eyes. It was a while before I could feel the slimy hardness of the plug against my sphincter. The violating pressure made my body jerk forward, and the implant punished me with pain. Tears flowed down my cheeks. I braced myself. Even if Maurice ripped me apart with his toy, it wouldn't be as bad as the pain of the implant. A moan escaped my lips as he pushed the plug forward. Slowly it inched further than anything should have gone inside me. My sphincter tightened around the crevice at the hilt of the plug. Maurice pulled the plug tentatively, but it wouldn't budge out. Like my body wanted to keep the intrusion. Maurice's chuckle made my gut wrench. I was being used as trifling entertainment. He patted the end of the plug, sending uncomfortable jolts into me, and pulled my skirt down. "I'm sure you'll feel more like a girl now." He sat on the sofa. "Go on. Walk around a bit." I stood up and took a few unsteady steps. The plug was mostly imperceivable, but some movements made me disgustedly aware of how I was stuffed. Worst were the stirrings the sensations send to my groin. As aroused as I was, I wasn't able to pretend that I couldn't possibly enjoy movements in my butt. "You are awful at walking with heels. Come here. Sit on my lap." I tried to place myself so there would have been little pressure on the buttplug, but he made sure to carefully position me on his thigh bone. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked. Nothing I could have said would have me feel better about my situation. "Please..." "You really are a horny slut. I bet if I took off that cage, your 'arousal gauge' would be ragingly firm." I didn't dare to hope he would do it, because he was right. My penis strained against its containment. But I wasn't a slut. It was the stimulants given me. Maurice had me wait on him through the evening, while he fiddled with net access. At least he wasn't actively humiliating me, yet I could not relax with the hard plug pushing into my innards. Despite being tired, I was too frustrated to properly sleep, when I was allowed to go to bed. Even though it was almost noon when I got out of bed, I felt awfully groggy. Only the warning warmth of the implant kept pushing me to clean myself and dress up. My weariness disappeared in a startle, as I shuffled through the living room. Maurice was there, poking his datapad and apparently drinking a stiff liquid breakfast. "Good morning." "G-good morning, master." "You lied to me, girl." I merely stared at him. Not only had I no idea what he was talking about, getting called a 'girl' continued to be jarring. The day before, I had merely obeyed out of the aversion to the implant pain, not because I felt comfortable with feminine clothes and makeup. "Nothing to say?" he said. "I've been looking through your case files, and they read you specifically requested to be assigned as a 'servant girl'." "It's not true!" The implant reminded me with its stinging heat, so I continued: "Master." "That's not the only thing here. The court ruling includes certain operations I'm supposed to get for you, as requested by you. They are not that expensive, but it is odd that you would demand them yourself. Anyway, I will have to comply, as otherwise I will be the one fined." "W-what operations, master?" "Some surgical touch-ups, mostly to your face. Breasts and butt crafts. And a thorough glandular readjustment to change your hormonal balance. Most peculiarly there's also the mention of an experimental treatment to overcharge the natural replacement of your tissue, namely to fasten and enhance the effects of the new hormones on your body. Now, I can't call myself even an amateur physician, but to me this all points to an eager need to alter your body into a feminine form." I was shivering. I had request no such things, and in fact would have refused them if I could have. "There has to be an error somewhere, master." "Still keeping up with the denial? I'm starting to think you get off from the idea of being forcibly turned into a girl. Pretty elaborate for a mere kink." My head shook with disbelief. "No... No. Please master, can't you revoke the orders?" "I can't, even if I cared to try. The fine for impeding your chosen form of rehabilitation would be noticeable, even for me." Sunk into my thoughts, I was barely aware of our ride down the elevator. The legal systems might be rigged, but huge errors would be noticed by the supervising AIs. Clearly, Maurice was trying to confuse me, but I couldn't understand the point. I wouldn't believe blatant falsehoods were in fact my own desires. The building complex was large enough to be equipped beyond emergency care, so we had to barely walk outside to get the medical suite. I wondered if the open-air causeway was out of the reach of the warden AI. Even if it had been, the only way for escape would have been the quick vertical route directly to the pavement below. With my near non-existent ability to walk with high heeled shoes, I struggled to keep up with the leisurely stride of the tall man. My frustration with my clumsiness momentarily overcame my fear of the regulation pain. I stopped. No tingling rose to warn me of my impertinence. For the moment, I was free of the AI's shackles. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. My elation was dampened only by how much my feet hurt. Maurice turned to me, and I flinched. But I wouldn't cower in front of him. He would have to dirty his own hands, if he was going to force me now. I wouldn't let him pretend that I was willing, when I merely avoided pain he could not see. "Is something wrong?" "My feet are killing me. These shoes are horrible." He walked to me, and I couldn't help but wince. Those strong arms would easily be able to hurt me enough force obedience. "I won't let you take them off." He swept my legs from under me with his foot. I fell, but instead hitting the concrete, he caught me and lifted me up in his arms. "Your feet are too pretty in them." I found my arms wrapped around his neck. Arguably, my position was more secure that way. Calm breathing moved his broad chest. He hadn't hurt me. Drugs had killed most of the pain, so when I woke up from the surgery, only aching and the unending heat of the artificial arousal remained. Maurice had been thorough with explaining every procedure that would be done to me, so it was hard to be shocked. My testicles ached from the glandular adjustment, but they were still there. Parts of my face had been opened and knitted back together, but the regenerative treatments kept the swelling at minimum. Not so much on my chest. I tried not to touch them, but their foreign weight was impossible to ignore while lying on my back. I sat up to look at my breasts and noticed Maurice in the corner. He was holding his large datapad in front of his face. "Are you filming me, master?" My voice was slightly more feminine, but I had expected that. "Oh, no. Just protecting your virtue from my eyes." The idea was silly, but if he wasn't lying, it was somewhat charming. Perhaps I had some value. My tits were decent handfuls, and despite being thoroughly soft, they were noticeably firm in shape. "Your clothes are on the side table," he said. "Could you give me privacy while I dress?" "Feel free to use the curtain." I did so. With the breasts and slightly changed face, the clothes looked quite nice on the girl in the mirror, though she was a bit undressed without any makeup. Last items were the plug and the cage. "Do you want me to put on these... Toys?" "Come here with them." I obeyed. "Don't you look pretty." He sounded so sincere, that despite myself, my lips spread into a smile. I had to turn my face down from the embarrassment. Maurice had me lean in front of him as he pushed the plug in. My body took it easily like it craved the intrusion. He pulled me on his lap, but this time my position wasn't uncomfortable. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against him. "I see that you are already much more content, now that you got be the pretty girl you wanted be." It was pointless to try and protest, while wearing cute clothes, with a man groping my breasts, and a plug up my butt. If I wasn't a girl, then I could only be some sort of non-male; a position surely lower in Maurice's hierarchy than a girl he liked to fondle. Maybe if I was obedient and pleasing enough, he wouldn't force the infernal cage on my penis, and I would be able to deal with my unending arousal. Yelp escape my lips, when he placed his hand on my thigh. My face was hot. I lifted my arms against myself, so I would try to brush him away. "Please..." My voice was a weak whimper. His hand moved under my skirt and shifted my underwear. Though my penis twitched with the shivers sent through me by the man's touch, my member was limp. Maurice wrapped his hand around it, and my heart melted with shameful need. "It's just like you," Maurice whispered. His hand brushed and squeezed my penis, which quivered in a pathetic attempt to rise. "It doesn't want to stand up for itself. Instead it enjoys being pliant and soft. To be caressed and to have a firm hold around it. Don't you, girl?" "Yes." I was willing to lie, if he would just get me off. If he put the cage on then, the pent-up arousal would surely have driven me insane. I pressed against him. Anything to appear like a needy good girl, one who deserved to rewarded with the master's touch. When he pulled his hand away, my whine was so pitiful that my reason forced itself back to the surface. The humiliation was unbearable, yet I could do nothing to escape it, except let out a sob. "What's wrong?" "My brain is mushed by these hormonal changes," I whimpered. "The desire for your touch burns, which is but another reason for me to hate you." Maurice chuckled. "If your body chemistry determined your wants and actions, would there even be a real person in here?" He tapped my forehead with a finger. "You aren't an animal or machine following its programming. Instead, I think you are making excuses to dismiss your inner urges. But I'll respect your wishes... to remain untouched." I gritted my teeth, as he set the hard uncomfortable self-locking device to replace the tenderness of his hand. Back in my room, I tried to twist the cage off me, but it stuck to my skin with its adjustably adhesive surface. I sat on the bed and breathed as slowly as I could until my mind returned to a semblance of calm. My options were limited. I couldn't escape. Even if I got out of the building, I'd quickly be caught and punished. On the other hand, Maurice had shown his willingness to avoid cruelty, if I pleased him. Even if it had been an instinctive response, I'd enjoyed his touch, to an extend. It was simple reasoning: he treated a girl well enough, so he might treat a lover even better. "Yes," I whispered to force myself to agree. I'd just pretend to love him. He'd most likely get bored with me sooner than later. That'd let me escape this. Apparently the proper prison outposts weren't actually awful places live. It was no use to delude myself that I was going to escape the worst indignities by resisting. Not that the thought of sex with Maurice was purely repulsive. It would be the only way I would get any relief, and he was by no means unattractive. I'd have to be subtle about my scheme, so he wouldn't guess it was all pretension. First things first, the girl in the mirror needed her makeup. The styling unit was basic, but had been sufficient for my needs. It could arrange my hair, as long as it was nothing complex, and apply decent arrangement of makeup. For the future, I'd have to learn to do some of it myself, as not to bore those I tried to attract. I made sure I was dolled-up yet respectable. My appearance didn't scream that I wanted to be a classy wife, but the refined hair style combined with sober use of colours on my face did leave that as a distinct option. Becoming the wife of Maurice wouldn't have been that awful. Sure, he was an evil capital controller, but being legally his partner would be an upgrade from my situation. Even from what I had been before my sentence. While I was acutely aware that such thinking would have been foreign to me a mere week before, a girl had to look out for her own prospects. And it all was a mere fancy, anyhow. A man in Maurice's position wouldn't fall for a slave. I went to the living room. Maurice lifted his eyes from his datapad and gave a smile, before getting back to staring the slab. "Do you need anything, master?" I asked. "No, I don't need anything from you. But if you want, you could get us drinks and come sit with me." I obeyed like I might have wanted to. He took the glass and placed it on a side table and wrapped an arm around me. I tried to see, what he was doing on the datapad, but only incomprehensible graphs were shown on the screen. "What are you doing, master?" "Staring at this fake chart thing in order to see if you were spying on me." He placed the datapad on table and took his glass. "Just kidding. But sometimes I do think its all fake. Doesn't make sense half the time." He drank the liquid too fast to smell or even taste it properly. I could have poisoned him, if I had something to poison with. I downed my drink and let him place the glass on the table. "I've grown fond of you, girl." He pulled me against him. "Something in that reluctance based on denial is deeply endearing." "I guess I'm glad you like me, master." "This unperturbed state of yours is amusing. Only a few hours ago your voice was nowhere near this cute." He smirked. "But I know the answer for why." I had overplayed my hand. Had I really been that obvious? Maurice pulled me down to rest my upper body on his lap. "But we can keep pretending, if you enjoy it." I wasn't sure what exactly I was pretending. But I did it lying on his lap, getting petted, brushed and briefly fondled, for a quite while, before Maurice wanted to call it a night. For the next few days I tried to salvage my plan. Maurice clearly enjoyed having me around, but that was the extend of his feelings for me. He didn't even force me to service his needs. One day I made my appearance more carnally suggestive, but that only got me a brief groping, while I simmered in my own arousal. Maurice did let me remove the plug periodically, which only made me aware of how used to it I had become in such a short time. One morning Maurice had left early, so I had peace for letting my mind wander. I didn't want to. Instead, I nursed my weariness from the another nightful of uneasy sleep by sitting in a bath eating treats and watching serials on the wall-screen. Maurice had given me access to the penthouse's systems, and I was going to use them. In the late afternoon I got a notification, that I was allowed to remove the plug, in case it was uncomfortable. I didn't know how to react. Presumably he wouldn't have sent anything like that, if he was returning home that day. Naturally I wasn't concerned about lacking his company, but the constant loneliness was mind-numbing. When the sun had set, and the forest around the building was dotted with lights, I sent a message to Maurice. Even though my plan was bust, I had nothing better. If nothing else, a girl yearning for his touch would stroke the ego of any man. "I'm not in the region," was his response. "I gave you access to the complex, but be discreet about it. I am not supposed to allow you out of the apartment unsupervised." I checked the building plan. For entertainment, the complex had a gym, an automated fab-and-shop and a nightclub. None of those were appealing, but even a little freedom was to be utilized. I made myself representable and headed down to the nightclub. While I had slept like a log, the hangover was horrible. It had not been worth it: the people at the nightclub had been either boring or intimidating or both, and I could have gotten wasted on the substances available in the penthouse. Maurice was doing some sort of post-exercise stretching routine in the living room. His bare skin was slick with sweat. At least he was wearing underwear. Anyone could have had that defined broad back, or the thick limbs of keenly apparent muscle. It shouldn't have been a notable sight, yet despite my headache, blood filled the useless thing in my cage. I forced my eyes away and walked to kitchen to take in a quick regimen of pills and rehydration. The sound of footsteps petrified me. Maurice stopped close enough behind that I could hear the deep calm breath and smell the sweat, which wasn't all that pungent. "You're in the front of fridge," he said. "Sorry, master!" I stepped out of his way, acutely aware of being unkempt and dressed in only nightwear. My gaze lingered on him, but I reasoned it would make my scheme more believable. "Apparently you visited the 'Dilettante'. Did you enjoy yourself last night?" he asked. "I--No." Maurice poured himself a glass. "Why not?" "The music was incomprehensible noise, and the mood oppressive. I didn't have anything common to talk about with anyone there. And besides... It felt like deception to look like what I looked, while being what I am." He finished his drink. "And what exactly are you?" I stared at him. Again I had blundered through my plan without thinking. My eyes fell. "Sorry, master..." A thought flashed in my mind. "I'm your girl. Yes. Couldn't flirt with anyone. Because of that." I shrank under his evaluating gaze. An amused smile spread on his face. "'My girl' doesn't sound like our earlier arrangement. What obligations does it entail?" I pressed my hands together. Breathing was hard, and the thump of my heart distracting. "I'm sorry, master. I d-didn't mean to imply anything." Weak. That was what I was. Even if I had possessed the ability to be seductive, I didn't have what it took to go along with my plan. My behaviour was that of a dumb girl, one who would have preferred giving in to acting with any sort of agency. Maurice could have forced me to do anything, and I wouldn't have been able put even a cursory resistance. His hand touched my cheek. I lifted my gaze, but my vision was blurred. "It's alright," he said. I let him press his lips on mine without protest. His touch gave me a bit of worth: people didn't kiss furniture, at least not so tenderly. Maurice left without saying much. Though it was foolish of me, I felt betrayed. After a man kisses a girl, he should say something. Anything to assure that he wouldn't change his mind and slap me next time I mumbled frightened nonsense. I rubbed my face to get my mind beyond the wishful thinking about my owner. The girl in the mirror looked like a mess, all bleary-eyed and hair like a bird's nest. After a shower and dressing up, her faint smile had returned. Clearly she loved looking pretty. She was the one who liked Maurice. I was just riding behind her eyes, protected from the indignity that was her existence. She didn't want to stand up for herself. For her the humiliation wasn't awful. In fact, it kind of turned her on, even beyond her normal state of inescapable arousal. The plug up her butt sent nice sensations with her movements and constantly reminded her that she had a hole ready for a man's intrusions. With her dysfunctional penis inside the device, pleasuring men was the only thing she was good for. That, and looking pleasant, of course. She enjoyed being pliant and soft, but only because she wanted to be caressed. Such a girl needed to be hold firmly by a gentle lover. Unfortunately Maurice didn't want to have her. Obviously he had a selection of girls to choose from, and this one was dumb and lacked the proper equipment. It might been the torture he wanted to inflict: let the girl realise what she was and what she wanted, and then leave her hanging. Yet I was willing to comply with his wishes. If he didn't like something in me, he could have had it changed. I would even have accepted one of those experimental uterine crafts, if he wanted to start a family. But I wasn't good for that. It was unfair. Even if my mind was addled and my emotions artificial, they were real and unavoidable to me. Yet my feelings were merely a game, a plaything to nourish until it was ripe to crush. The girl in the mirror looked awful with her makeup ruined by those stupid tears. how to By the time Maurice returned, I had managed to appear calm again. I hummed in my mind so I couldn't hear my thoughts, as I served him his warm cup of unpoisoned coffee. That was all I was good for: doing the job of an automated unit. "Are you alright?" he asked. "You are distracted." "I'm fine as always, master." "No, I don't think so." He chuckled. "This morning you ate me with your eyes, but now you'd like to murder me with your stare. Tell me what's wrong, girl." My mouth twisted. The dumb girl, who had spent the whole day fantasising about release and tender affection, couldn't keep her lips shut. "I love you." She collapsed on her knees, making a mess of the tray she was holding. The sort of embarrassment her sobs caused wasn't to her liking. It was terrifying, how pathetic being a bit pent-up made me. Firm hands lifted me back on my shaking legs. Maurice frowned, but he wasn't angry or annoyed. He guided me to sit next to him on the sofa. "You claimed you hated me." His voice was soft. I took a deep breath to calm my voice. "I'm sorry, master. These hormones make me all moody." "Did you mean what you said before tripping over?" "I might have." I huddled up, but pressing my thighs together reminded me of what was between them. "And that's dumb. You don't even like me. But that's fine, master. You own me and are... Allowed to torture me." "Is the reg-implant hurting you?" He placed his hand on the back of my neck and pressed. "Here, I deactivated it." He lowered his arm on my shoulders. I couldn't talk. It should have been obvious that the implant wasn't what I was talking about. Maurice turned my head and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to wrap my arms around him, but he pulled back and brushed my hair. "I expect my girl to continue following her rules. Completely willingly, now that her reg-implant is deactivated." "Of course, I will, master." It wasn't a lie any longer. The pressure in me was dizzying. If he left me agitated, the promise of further frustration would have shattered me. Part of my mind tried to make me ill from the realisation; that I was submitting to being used sex, just to get off. I suffocated such reluctance. It was perfectly natural for a girl to be the recipient. My penis didn't even work properly, and my rear had been prepared for taking in men. "Good." Maurice motioned for me to get on my stomach on his lap. It couldn't be what I wanted, and I winced as he pulled my skirt up. "You will need to be punished for making that mess," he said. "Y-yes, master. His tap on the plug made me gasp. "Why do you still wear this?" The answer wasn't clear even to me. "I... I like being filled." Maurice chuckled. "You are such a little treat. Makes me not want to discipline you, but considering what a needy slut you are, you will enjoy this more than me." His slap on my rump wasn't anything playful, but elicited a loud fleshy sound. It hurt so much, that I nearly lost control of myself and scurried away. "That should do it," Maurice said. "Do you need more to reinforce that dropping stuff is wrong?" "No, master," I said through a sob. "Th-thank you, master." He laughed and lifted me back to sitting. Though my butt smarted from putting any weight on it, I huddled against Maurice, which he allowed. "You are making me feel bad from hurting you, by still desiring my touch." He pulled me close. "Sorry, master..." Anyone sane would are shrunk away from a man, who hurt her. But for me, Maurice's good will was the only protection I wanted. And the mess on the floor had been my fault. "Don't be." He brushed my hair. "Instead, make sure you behave properly. I'm not asking much of you." It was true. During the last few days, most of the time I had volunteered to serve Maurice. He would have let me sulk in my room, but it was I who had wanted him to like me. Why had I done it? People should be able to cope with their arousal, so that was no excuse. Maurice didn't care about me. Not as a slave. Not as a lover. To him the confused dizzy bitch was a mildly amusing distraction. But to me, that stupid girl was all. Even inside my own mind, I couldn't escape her. "Are you crying again?" he asked. I forced myself to swallow. "I'm s-sorry, master." "Do tell me, what bothers you." He wiped my cheeks with his hand. "If I did enjoy seeing you cry, you'd be doing little else." I stared wide-eyed into the sofa. It should have been easy for me to see the core of my unease, and to distil my desires into a simple statement. But my mind clutched. I didn't have the right to demand anything from Maurice. He was in control. My owner should have just told me what to do and made sure my needs were met to the extend I deserved. "Please..." I whispered. "Tell me what I have to do, so you'd reward me again..." "Again?" My gaze fell, and I muttered: "With your touch." Maurice smirked. "So, you got past pretending. That spank must have moved your sense back on track. Tell me, what you are." "I'm your girl, master. And if you want me, I'll be your... slut." I wanted to plead, but my whiny voice was already too pitiful. "Alright. I won't take your device off, because you are much too entertaining this way. Yet, I'll let you try to earn your relief." He took his datapad and motioned to his crotch. "Get to work." My mind didn't need further persuasion. I opened the front of his trousers and got his cock out. While it wasn't overly huge, it was surely much too large to fit into me. The ready hardness made my heart flutter in an altogether ludicrous fashion: it was a clear indication that Maurice found me attractive on some level. I wrapped my hand around the girth and squeezed the rock that was under the soft skin. Maurice let out an approving grunt but didn't lift his attention away from his datapad. A mere rubbing wouldn't be that enticing for him, and it would leave a mess. Even though I was vaguely intrigued, I wasn't particularly eager, as I took the head of the penis in my mouth. At leat he didn't taste awful. I tried to take him deeper but the pressure into my mouth made me gag. Maurice's hand pressed my head down. The penis intruded much too far. I would suffocate. Terror surged through me. I lifted my head rapidly, and my teeth scraped his skin. It was a catastrophe. I kept my eyes down and whimpered: "Sorry..." He chuckled. "It's fine. You'll soon get used to it. Continue." I took the dick back into my mouth, but I couldn't take it deep. Gagging on it made me feel awful: it made it seem like I was disgusted by the act. Accepting defeat I started to suck while fondling the length outside my mouth. It didn't take long, until the pulse of his penis signalled his orgasm. My mouth was filled with slime that wasn't nearly as horrible as I had feared. In a way it signalled a tiny victory for me: I could offer Maurice some pleasure. I swallowed and showed my empty mouth to him. Maurice glanced at me with a smile. He patted my head like I was some sort of animal that only craved the simple validation of its master's touch. That would have been easier. The desire to have even a shred of dignity was hard to shake, despite what I had just done still lingering as a taste in my mouth. "Did... I earn my relief, master?" "Yes. Now that the worst edge is off, with some pharmacological help, I should be able to fuck you, until you are pushed to a climax." He smiled. "If you manage to come like a girl should, I'll remove that cage of yours for good." My toes curled and spine shuddered from the excitement. I had tried to use the plug to get off. Though the attempts weren't quite successful, it seemed possible to 'come like a girl'. Trying to assert herself in me, the girl was confident that the added emotional depth was the key for truly enjoying those shameful sensations. I was aware that I wasn't giving the issue a proper consideration... But using my dizzy brain wasn't going to satisfy the consuming furnace inside me. I might regret giving up to that desire. It wouldn't be something I could pretend never happened. Perhaps what I feared was that I might enjoy it. Liking it would change what I was more than any cruel small device ever could. "I'd like... to try that, master." "Of course you would, you little slut." He stood. "Clean up and come to my room." After washing myself thoroughly, I put on the dress I had wanted to wear but hadn't dared yet. It's style and cut evoked a wedding dress, but the faintly rose colour and skirt that only reached to my knees kept it sufficiently informal, not to mention cute. The incongruity of wearing something so innocently girly, while on my way to get fucked made me stop at the wall-screen mirror. I shuddered at the sight. The girl in the reflection loved how she looked. She didn't mind that the makeup was a bit overt, or that her lover wasn't too interested in her. She was easy to please. Just let her get off, and she'd do the most denigrating things. A giggle escaped my mouth. I wasn't quite used to my new voice yet, but that was fine. The voice was the girl's. Maurice was lying on his bed naked, his well-formed body on display. My visual enjoyment of those muscular limbs, the wide chest and that trimmed belly, leading to already ready pillar of hardened flesh, was dampened by that he still held the damned datapad in his hands. "Hi. Master." The girl sounded angry. He glanced over the datapad. "Looking great, girl. There's lube on the table. Get to work, when you are ready." The girl had expected to experience the strong administrations of a man, but I wiped the frown from my face. I still had some control. Maurice's smile was pleased, when he looked at me, so it wasn't that bad. His dick shuddered as I squirted the lube on it. I didn't dare to touch it too much, as any extra stimulation might make him come before me. My pucker resisted the intrusion of my finger, but with some coaxing it felt ready to take in Maurice's girth. I saddled his hips, and let my skirt hide our lower halves. His dick was pleasantly rigid between by butt cheeks. Maurice smirked, when I reached to take his other hand into mine. For a moment, I could pretend we were lovers sharing a special moment. It was a painful life. The girl was a stupid slut, but I deserved better. At least a tiny bit. "What's so interesting about that oversized phone of yours, master?" "Nothing. Everything. I'm not sure. Our economy has ceased to exist in any meaningful way, but I appear to be getting richer by the second." That sort of insanity was what I had wanted to oppose. Now it was all inconsequential. "Master, please. Put it away." He should have at least pretended that I had value. Maurice smiled and dropped the datapad on the bed. I let out a yelp of excitement, as he placed his now free hand on my hip. "Really now, dear." His grip was strong, possessive; just the kind the girl liked. "Did you think I'd insist on staring at graphs with you on top of me? It's just that teasing you is much too fun." His hand intruded under my skirt and unlocked the horrid cage. The sensation of my weak member falling on his skin send a shiver up my back. Maurice took the device and threw it against the wall. Days of anguish shattered into small twisted pieces. The hand disappeared back under the fabric, and his touch stole the strength from my legs. I collapsed on Maurice, and even in the uncomfortable position I reached to kiss him. Maurice pulled his arm from under me and answered my embrace. My body moved without bothering to wait on my mind. I lifted my butt and fumbled to position Maurice's pillar into my pucker. Without caring about the tightness or pain I forced myself down. Maurice's face distorted into a delightful grimace. Shivers coursed through me, when I hit the bottom. With every movement and hump, the rigid member pushed against my insides. I was rooted in my proper place, on my master's hard dick. By leaning forward, my limp member was squeezed between us. That sensation would have been good enough, yet Maurice wrapped his hand around it. I whimpered from his firm touch. It had been only a moment, yet the frustration of days erupted in a dizzyingly strong climax. My head cleared a bit, but unlike what I feared, no regret came. I still liked it. Enjoyed being fucked as the girl. And I wanted more. Unlike a man, I could continue on. My soft member was unbearably sensitive inside Maurice's strong administrations, and I came again before the warmth of his orgasm burst into me. He lifted me up and crushed me into a sweaty embrace. There was no place in the world I would have preferred to be in. A burning pain in my ear woke me. For a moment I feared the regulation implant had activated, but the location was wrong. "Stay quiet," a distorted voice in my ear said. "Walk out of the room." I obeyed like a sleepwalker. "This is a nanoreceiver inside your ear. It will dissolve harmlessly in a few minutes after its organic battery dies. Listen well, agent, as this pertains to your mission." "What mission? Can you hear me?" I sat on the sofa in the living room. "Yes, though you need to speak slowly and clearly. This receiver assembled itself after your regulation implant was deactivated, though it gave you a few hours to get out of whatever situation you were in. Your mission, agent, is to assassinate the AI-capital controller 'Maurice', real surname unknown." "What? I'm some sort of agent? Wait, is that girl in my head part of the cover, a mental implant?" "What girl? Nothing has been brainwashed into your mind. That would have been detectable in the screening, most likely. You were inserted through the slight manipulation of your own inputs to your court records. "Our AGI-modelling selected you out of the potential insurrectionists as the most suitable candidate to garner Maurice's interest and eventual affections. You made a perfect assassin: one that didn't know he would be one. Though our model was sure it would take you months, not days. So good job on that, agent. We have intercepted an authorized delivery drone to bring you an injector. It's contact poison, though it will work best, if you stab it into his heart tissue." I was sure I was going crazy, when I heard a thump on the balcony. Behind the glass door was a package. "What if I... Can't do it?" "You will have to, agent. A strike team is on its way to clean up, though without you the dirty AGI-owner might escape. They will kill everyone left on site. We are counting on you, agent." "Who are you?" Warmth burst inside my ear and dissolved into trickling liquid. I hurried to the balcony and opened the package. Inside was a sealed but still nasty-looking injector. I picked it up like a snake and hurried to Maurice's bedroom. "Master!" I was being foolish. Like those slave girls in stories, who fall in love with their owners and help them, just to be disregarded. But Maurice couldn't die. He wasn't that evil. And I needed him around and inside me. "Huh?" He woke up with a start. "They are coming to kill you!" I leaned over Maurice and kissed him. "Who are?" "I don't know. But they dropped this on the balcony." Maurice took the injector to examine. "It's poison. They... wanted me to kill you!" I took the injector from him and threw it into the wall on the other side of the room. I dropped on top of Maurice and hugged him. His strong arms stroke my back, and already defying the voice in my head had been worth it. "We need to leave, master. They are sending a 'strike team' to make sure you are dead." Maurice jumped out of my embrace and walked to the wall. A panel slid to reveal a hidden safe. He took out a intimidating looking urban combat weapon. Despite being naked, he managed to look enticingly dangerous holding the rifle. "No!" I walked to him. "You can't fight them! You might get hurt... Killed. The world is already insane, and I must be also. Can't we leave somewhere remote, together? I... I just want to be with you." "Alright. I'm taking the gun, but we'll leave. Let all this blow up or simmer down. I know a good, solitary, place in the mountains. Good for hunkering up for a few weeks or months." He smirked. "Yet... Without other distractions, your cute butt won't find respite." I bit my lip. "I'm counting on it." AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment. All rights are waived on this text, CC0.