“Get your clothes off,” he demanded, and my hands instantly went to my blouse buttons.

I glanced at the sliding glass doors, the curtains were open, and there was a whole building of neighbors that could see into his apartment. Could see me getting undressed as I’d been told.

“Can I close the curtains?” I asked as my blouse opened up. The thought of others seeing the frilly lace bra I’d picked out for him made me uncomfortable.

“Nobody gives a shit about you. Get that shit off,” he said without looking up from the tablet in his hands.

My pants came off next, and he didn’t even look up to see the matching panties. I’d picked both for him, lacey, see-through, scarlet red.

When he looked up, my breath hitched, hoping he’d acknowledge how good I looked in the lingerie that I’d gotten just for him in the hopes that his eyes would devour me in that oh so delicious way.

Instead, he just pointed at the floor in front of his recliner. I knew what he wanted and dropped to my knees, reaching for his belt and wetting my lips.

***

At first, I laughed just like all my other girlfriends did. “He’s going to fuck a toaster? Gross!”

“I know, right?” Veronica laughed with a shake of her chest. “As if one of those sex dolls could ever give him what I got.”

Veronica had only dated Eugene out of pity. He’d helped her get through calculus and had chased her like a lovesick puppy. The rest of us teased her; she was only a little overweight, but even she could do better than that nerd. On one hand, I was glad she hooked up with Eugene, it meant she wasn’t competition for the real men… Not that I realistically thought Veronica could ever land a real man. Eugene was probably the best she’d ever get.

All of us laughed at the time, thinking, ‘Poor Veronica, hope she has a really good set of toys…’ Little did we know.

Erosynth had started as a small company that made deluxe, human-sized dolls. The kind shut-ins, incels, and cripples paid a lot of money for, in place of a woman. Year after year, the models got more realistic. Soon they had posable joints, heated flesh, and built-in toys that could suck a watermelon through a garden hose.

Like I said, we laughed at first. However, when Erosynth began incorporating robotics, the laughter died. Some girls, like Veronica, lost their man, but it was mostly the girls who couldn’t do much better than an Eugene.

He’d been an early adopter, ditching the very demanding Veronica quickly for a slim five-foot Erosynth model with a massive chest, blonde hair, and creepy, dead eyes that blinked once in a while. Veronica showed us pictures, and we laughed. Men were so gross, blonde hair and huge tits, fucking typical.

But there was a weird shift. As more stories like this started popping up, stories like Eugene and Veronica, some of the girls quit laughing. They stopped talking about the fun little games we’d put our partners through. You know, the little shit tests that proved we still affected men. It wasn’t many girls, but I did notice that there was a downright submissive streak among certain women who distanced themselves from the rest of us.

***

“Spit on it,” he told me, and I did. I thick wad of my own saliva crawling down his shaft.

“Again,” he demanded, and I did. I watched my spit on him, knowing what came next and dreading it.

“Rub it on your face,” he said, and I did.

His throbbing hot cock was in my hands, and I pressed it to my forehead, then smeared it across my face. I loved the feel of it, hot, burning, silky, and erect just for me. My own spit smeared across my face, I didn’t love so much, but for him, I did it. I kissed the underside of his shaft and continued rubbing him all over my face. Every throb made my cunt spasm. I wanted to touch myself, but he hadn’t permitted me.

***

Veronica was one of the first to say what we were all thinking. In the middle of the cafeteria, in front of dozens of our student peers, she screamed at Eugene, “That’s what you want? A fucking robot that can't say no?”

Eugene shrugged sheepishly, “She doesn’t scream and make scenes…”

“It’s not a she, you fucking loser! It’s fucking plastic and silicon! You're fucking a doll. Does that make you feel like a big man?”

A pack of jocks at a nearby table was snickering as Eugene turned bright red. He tried to snake his way out of the cafeteria dining table, but Veronica smacked him in the side of the head. She continued screaming, “What? You can’t handle a real woman? Fucking loser.”

Browbeat publicly, Eugene snapped, anger twisting his face into rage. He yelled back as he finally worked himself out of the sterile picnic table, “I don’t need this shit, you psycho! I’d rather fuck a doll or a donut than put up with you, you fat pig!”

Veronica broke down crying, “Go on then, play with your little toy. I need a real man who can handle a real emotional girl of flesh and blood. You’ll just be a stunted loser your whole life. You’ll never find love, you loser.”

We all consoled Veronica later. Angie even got her a gift, a huge vibrating dildo with a note reading, “Better in every way than Eugene.” We all laughed, but it was rude and gross of her. She was kind of a bitch that way.

***

“Enough foreplay,” he said down to me, still absorbed in his tablet, not even bothering to look at me or the love and adoration I’d been lavishing on his prick. “Start sucking.”

Pursing my lips, I sucked the tip of his cock into my mouth. Using my tongue, I swirled it across his head. He groaned, which made me giddy with joy, then used one of his hands to shove me down on his cock. Fingers wound in my hair, and he began guiding me over his cock.

“Harder,” he demanded.

I sucked harder, trying to suck his balls up through the shaft. His grip in my hair forced my mouth over him the way he liked, choking me in the process. Ignoring my own gagging noises, I rocked my head, closing my eyes and concentrating on making it perfect for him.

“Fuck yeah, you little whore, fuck yeah…”

***

It was when Erosynth built Wi-Fi into their Dolls that things exploded. With internet access, the dolls could uplink with AI, creating personas that talked and behaved in any way their owner chose. Not only could a Erosynth doll be built physically to their owner's taste, but they were now programmed with personalities perfected by their owners. Sales skyrocketed, and dozens of knock-off companies were launched.

Some women had advocated for male versions of Erosynth, but women were far more complicated creatures. Getting fucked by a doll didn’t satiate that need for connection in most women. The dolls said and acted perfectly, but something was missing for women, some inexplicable quantity.

Women waged war as their dating options dwindled to nil. They posted angrily and frequently:

"This just reinforces toxic fantasies about dominance and compliance."

"What kind of world are we building when artificial submission becomes mainstream?"

"Just because a machine can’t say no doesn’t mean the fantasy is harmless."

"It’s not just sex, it’s a blueprint for unrealistic standards and silent compliance."

Men, for the most part, ignored all of it. Their balls were getting drained regularly.

Robo-brothels appeared. Men could try out a doll for an hour at a time, which led to increased sales of personal models. Our shit tasks were obliterated overnight. Women with boyfriends and husbands were now watching keenly for the first sign of robo-infidelity. And it began happening in a tsunami.

Some of us tried to compromise, living with a man and his doll. In every case, it ended with the woman being marginalized, pushed away, and men preferred uncomplicated sex with machines, especially when those machines were programmed to tell them how wonderful they were.

Lawsuits were next. A bill of rights for machines died. Later, it was discovered that many of the lawmakers had been gifted Erosyths during the debates. As more lawmakers found bliss in the thighs of dolls, legislation against robo-waifus died ingloriously.

And so… culture changed. Left with robots or nothing at all, some women made compromises that would have horrified their mothers and grandmothers.

***

With a long groan, his cock twitched, pulsing in my throat. Even though stars were swimming in my vision, I kept sucking, feeling blackness seeping into me. Thick, burning hot loads shot down my throat. I swallowed hungrily. I’d gotten him off before the doll had a chance.

Both of his hands found my hair, and he rocked my face against him hard. I choked, drooled, and slobbered, coughing up bubbles of jizz as he finished inside me. He leaned back in his recliner, tablet tossed aside in ecstasy. I was proud that I’d made him cum. Cum and drool dripped off my face in sticky strands as I cleaned him with my tongue, lapping up all the mess as was expected.

He’d want to fuck again later, in bed. I’d be there before he could turn on the doll. If I was lucky, if I begged, told him how good it felt, how amazing he was, and stuck my ass up in the air and face down in the sheets, just maybe he’d even fuck my pussy. I’d been doing Kegels nonstop for weeks, in the unrealistic hope that I could be tighter than the doll in the closet. He’d slap my ass, call me degrading names, tell me I wasn’t good for anything but being fucked like a whore, and I’d take all of it. I’d even let him tie me up or be shared with his friends. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do.

At least I was one of the few women with a real man.

She leaned against my dinnerette counter, half-sitting on the barstool. “I didn’t quite get my fill at the club. How about a couple more shots?”

“I think you've had enough... I didn't invite you to my place to watch you pass out... I want more than that."

“Oh, is that so?” She bit her lower lip playfully. Her gaze drifted to the bedroom, a flush of heat spreading across her face. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

"What did I have in mind?... That you kneel down on the floor like a good little girl, spread your legs open, with your hands behind your neck... The position a slave girl should assume whenever she wants to please her master."

It’s a risk being so forward. If she angers, flees, I’ve lost nothing but a little time and effort. There are more like her at every club.

“A slave girl?” She laughed nervously, not sure if I was joking or serious. Her head tilted as if trying to read my expression, “You're pulling my leg, right?”

I give her a dark look, "Am I laughing? Get down, now."

“Did I read this all wrong?” She hesitated, her hands subtly moving to her thighs, uncertainty on her face. Her voice was a mix of excitement and trepidation. “Look. I... I'm not sure about this.

She hadn’t stood, hadn’t run off. It’s all a numbers game. Show interest in girls half my age at the club, and eventually, one comes back home with me. Bark orders at them, and eventually one complies. And when they do… no more clubs for a good long while.

I stepped up to her and took her neck in one hand. "A good girl does as she is told... A bad girl gets spanked until she cries... Which one are you?"

A shiver ran down her spine. I could feel it in the palm wrapped around her neck. She swallowed hard, her eyes locked on mine. “I... I want to be good for you.”

She pushed against me, then slowly lowered herself to the floor. Her legs parted as she assumed the position I’d demanded.

"Look up at me, I want to see your face, those pretty eyes." I inspected her like meat, judging every curve of her body.

Her eyes met mine, glossy, wet, a flicker of desire ignited within them. She arched her back slightly, accentuating her chest as she breathed deeply, her body now an offering to my desires, and hers.

"Good girl," I whispered, then slowly walked around her, continuing to inspect her. "Thrust those tits out more… Part your lips. An open mouth is an invitation, and you should always be inviting.”

I was deciding then if I should use her... And how I would go about it, which hole I wanted to use. It’s all a numbers game.

Her breath hitched as she pushed her chest out further, her lips parting in a silent plea. She watched me intently, her body language an open invitation.

I stepped back in front of her, "Get your top off. I want to see those tits."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached down to the hem of her crop top, pulling it up and over her head to expose her breasts, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Better?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl, now take off those shorts. I want to see all of you.” I reached out to caress her cheek, my touch gentle yet commanding. Looks like we’ve gotten over the bell curve.

She stood up, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of her shorts before shimmying them down her hips, stepping out of them with a sultry look in her eyes. The panties remained, but even the best slaves make mistakes once in a while.

“There, now you can see all of me.” She posed for a moment, letting me take in the sight of her nearly naked body. When I invited her back to my place, she knew what I wanted. Maybe not all of what I wanted, but sex was always on the table.

Stepping up to her, she shies back, nudging the bar stool. I reach out, fingertips gently stroking her inner thigh. I can feel little tremors ripple through her body at the contact. I know now, I’ve beaten the house, this one’s a keeper.

“Now, show me how you pleasure yourself.” I lean in, whispering to her.

Her eyes widen. I doubt she’s ever been asked this before. She took a deep breath, and her hand slowly trailed down her stomach to slip beneath the waistband of her lace panties.

“Like this?” She closed her eyes, leaning back against the barstool, and her fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles.

“Good girl,” I watch her intently, “Get those panties off and kneel.”

She hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties, sliding them down her legs and stepping out of them, her eyes locked onto mine. Kneeling back down, she resumed the position, blinking repeatedly as my gaze bore into hers. I could tell she wanted to look away, but some false sense of pride forced her to look at me, the rapid-fire blinks giving her away.

“Continue stroking yourself and tell me how it feels.”

Her hand returned to the slick heat between her thighs. Her voice was breathy, her eyelids fluttering as she touched herself for my pleasure. “It feels... amazing.”

“You enjoy performing like this in front of a man? How does it make you feel being displayed so intimately?”

“It's... It's thrilling.” She bit her lip, her eyes dark with arousal. “Being exposed like this, for you... It's making me so wet.”

Her fingers worked with more urgency, her breaths becoming shallow and quick. The slick noises confirmed just how wet she was.

“Don't you dare cum yet. A good girl asks permission.”

The pained look in her eyes was simply delicious. She’d only been with boys her age, who probably only cared about getting themselves off. Being told to delay her pleasure for another is something altogether new.

I step away from her, not even bothering to look at her. In a drawer, I find a collar and leash. Turning back to her, I see she’s been watching me closely. When she sees the collar, her hand slows, her wide eyes looking up at me.

“May I... may I please cum for you, sir?” She asked, her voice a mix of desperation and excitement.

“You are a firecracker, aren't you? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you work yourself to climax this fast for him? Don't stop touching yourself, I want to see those fingers working that sweet little pussy. Don't cum until I tell you to.”

“No boyfriend... just me.” She resumed her rhythm, her fingers glistening with her arousal, her gaze fixed on me, waiting desperately for my command to release.

“Why not? You're beautiful. Horny. Needy. A little slut just aching for release, aren't you?”

“I guess I haven't found the right person... someone who knows how to handle me.” She circled her clit with increased urgency, her breath hitching as she fought the urge to climax.

“You didn't answer my question... you're a needy little slut, aren't you? So hot to get naked, kneel, and stroke yourself in front of a stranger... what kind of slut does that?  

“Yes, sir... I am.” She moaned softly, her fingers dancing over her slick folds, her body trembling with need. She could barely focus on my words and only answered part of my questions.

“And what kind of slut does that?”

“The kind that craves the thrill...” Her voice was a whisper, her body arching as she pleasured herself, her eyes slitted and locked onto mine. I could only imagine she was desperate for approval.

“Keep stroking that firepot.”

I lean in and wrap the collar around her neck. Then I give it a little tug with the leash. “When was the last time you climaxed while fucking?”

Her eyes flutter shut momentarily as the collar tightened around her neck, a soft gasp escaping her lips. “It's been... too long since I've felt this good.”

She continued to stroke herself, her movements growing more frantic, her body aching for release. 

“You want to cum, don’t you? But I'm not getting anything in return... How do we rectify that?”

“Please, sir... I need to cum.” She looked up at me, her eyes glazed with desire, her hand working feverishly between her legs.

“I asked how you are going to rectify taking care of yourself when I'm standing here without any attention given to my needs.” My voice was cold, distant, on purpose.

Her movements slowed, and her eyes widened with realization.

“I... I want to please you, too, sir.”

She licked her lips, her gaze drifting downward, suggesting a willingness to reciprocate.

“Pull my cock out. Look at it. Study it. You will become very good friends with it. Learn every curve of it. And beg for release.” I said softly to her.

Her hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they worked to unbutton my pants while her other continued stroking herself. Her eyes locked onto mine with a mix of anticipation and need.

“Good girl, take it out... and keep playing with yourself.”

Her hand delicately reached into my pants, pulling out my cock with a reverent touch, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of it.

“Stroke it while you touch yourself, but don't you dare cum.”

Her fingers wrapped around my length, stroking me with the same rhythm she used on herself, her breath hitching as she fought the urge to climax.

“Beg for me.”

“Please, sir... I need to feel you inside me.”

She continued to stroke my cock, her other hand still working between her legs, her body trembling on the edge of release.

“Beg. Like you mean it.”

“Please, sir... let me cum.” Her voice was a desperate whimper, her hand slowing on my cock as her own climax threatened to overwhelm her.

I realize it’s the best she can do right now, overwhelmed with new sensations. In time, she could be taught to beg like the dirty-mouthed whore I know she would become.

“Kiss the tip of my prick, you filthy little whore.”

Her lips parted, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the tip of my cock, her gaze never leaving mine. Watering blue eyes looked desperately up at me.

With her fingers wrapped around me, and lips touching my tip, I whispered, “Cum for me... I want to hear you screaming out in ecstasy.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body shuddering as she allowed herself to tip over the edge, her lips parted in a single sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!”

Her hand quickened its pace on my cock, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Lost in her universe, she leaned forward pressing my cock to her face, the rhythm of her hand on me disjointed and irregular. She instead gripped me tight as her climax ripped through her body.

I knew that I’d beaten the numbers game. Knew that telling her how to fuck me, how to serve me, how to cook and clean for me would be an entire series of fun and games in themselves.

She didn’t get me off, but honestly, this was far better, knowing she’d be mine, my slave.

"You haven't left your apartment in several days..." Lina's parole officer told her.

"What gave it away?" Lina said, still in her post-release funk. Prison had been constricting, but the lack of choice made getting through the days easier. Her family was of no help, shunning or being outright ashamed of the once drug addict and robber. She'd been the lucky one; her boyfriend had been shot.

Officer Smith poked through a few empty bags of chips and other snacks left on the kitchen counter. "The smell mostly. I'm not going to find any candy in here, am I?"

Lina laughed at him from the living room couch and tapped her head. "The MindWeave keeps me clean, you know that."

He opened some of the cupboards at random, "It's still experimental... we don't know that... especially long term."

"Come on, man," Lina said. "You saw the video. They had a baggie full of brown sugar, and I didn't so much as drool. The chip in my head has cured me."

Smith looked at her suspiciously from the kitchen door. "Color me still dubious. Ten years in this work and I've never seen a wonder cure for a hardcore junkie."

She looked defiantly at him... who was this prick to come into her home and judge her? Oh, right, a corporate and court-appointed parole officer to ensure the chip in her head kept her clean and out of a life of crime. In annoyance, she flipped through the TV channels.

Finished poking through her kitchen, Smith returned to the living room, his eyes constantly on his ward. After a long pause, he said, "Inspection."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Lina said as she rose off the couch. "I don't have any drugs on me."

Her hands went to the back of her neck without conscious thought, and she set her feet shoulder-width apart. The position felt rigid and uncomfortable until she remembered to thrust her chest out. Now she was comfortable; it felt natural. She continued watching TV, knowing he would pat her down.

There was a time, not long ago, when she would have been indignant. However, this was just one of those unusual conditions of parole. The parole she'd only gotten because of the MindWeave implanted in her skull. Murderers weren't usually let out of prison after only two years. Not that she'd killed anyone, but that gas station attendant had shot her boyfriend, and the prosecutor charged her with it. She was just the getaway, and hadn't even gone in. Thank fuck for the chip or she'd be rotting in that hole for another twenty-three minus some for good time.

The pat down? Not nearly as bad as some of the shit other prisoners had done to her. Honestly, it was even starting to feel... natural? That was the best way to describe it. The pat-downs became easier with each one. She actually sort of looked forward to the thought of Smith's hands on her hips. The idea was so vivid she considered masturbating to it once he was gone, like she had before.

Smith stepped around her, between her and the couch. She could still watch the TV if she wanted, but his presence behind her made it difficult to focus on anything but the cloying cologne he wore. Silently, she urged him on; she was growing impatient for the pat-down.

"Can I ask you something?" he murmured, nearly touching her ear with his mouth. The hot breath on her neck would have made her sick a month ago... but now... it felt... natural.

She licked her lips and wanted to twirl her hair around a finger. "You can ask me anything."

"Why are you dressed like this?"

She blinked... Dressed like what? She was wearing what the prison had provided her with. Thin silks, barely covering her body and leaving all too much skin visible. It didn't help that they were see-through, leaving very little to the imagination.

At first, she refused to wear them. She'd left with a duffel bag of various types of clothing, all of them stamped with her prison ID number. The silks were the only thing that didn't have her number on them.

The other clothing was heavier, and rougher, and although she wore it exclusively at first... over the weeks it just began feeling... unnatural. It was all too heavy, too confining, too itchy and snagging in all the wrong spots. Eventually, she just quit wearing it.

Her silks, however, were light and airy; they felt like she was wearing freedom. She remembered thinking they were somehow gross when she first left prison, but now they were all she wore. She no longer minded that her nipples stood at attention in them, or that when they touched skin, they became completely see-through, they just felt... natural.

The jumble of thoughts in her head about the silks made it impossible to answer Smith's question. She didn't know how to put it into words. And frankly, thinking about it made her head hurt. She just wanted to let her mind go, wear what she wanted, and pose when asked. These things cleared her head and made her feel more... natural.

When Smith's hand came around her chest and squeezed her breast painfully hard, she exhaled, and her mind cleared. Thank goodness for the MindWeave, she'd still be in prison otherwise. Besides, everything felt so... natural.

Kira knelt on the warm, padded floor of the serving chamber. The room had been designed for use on every surface. Everything was soft, padded, and warmed almost to the temperature of skin. This was where she lived, where she served the endless stream of beings, where she spent nearly every moment of her time. Her duty was service, each visit blurring into the next in a never-ending cycle of servitude.

The door hissed open, and in stepped Allyn, her new client. Kira had seen many clients over the years, but there was something different about this one. Allyn moved with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance, his eyes sharp and calculating as they surveyed Kira from head to toe.

"Kneel up straight," Allyn commanded. His voice was cool and detached, "Let me see you."

Kira complied, lifting her chin and meeting Allyn's gaze with pure submission. She had been taught to appear eager, even enthusiastic, about fulfilling her duties. It was part of the conditioning, the endless drilling that had shaped her into the perfect servant.

Allyn circled Kira like a predator sizing up its prey, his fingers trailing lightly over Kira's skin as if testing the quality of merchandise. Allyn asked with a voice tinged in curiosity, "You're vat-grown, aren't you?" 

Kira nodded, her training kicking in automatically. "Yes, sir. I was cloned, created, and conditioned specifically for this purpose."

Allyn stopped in front of Kira, his eyes narrowing as he studied the younger woman's face. "And do you enjoy your work?"

The question caught Kira off guard. Enjoy? It was a concept so foreign to her that it took a moment to process. She settled on the only response she had ever been taught. "Yes, sir. It is my honor and pleasure to serve the guests of Hol Vydon."

Allyn's lips curved into a slight smile, but his eyes remained hard. "Good. Then let's begin."

Kira readied herself. Compliance was her duty. As Allyn began to undress, Kira focused on the rhythm of her own breathing, a technique she had learned to help her disconnect from the reality of her actions. She was a vessel, a tool created for this sole purpose, and she would fulfill her duty as she always did with sighing efficiency and utter compliance.

Allyn stood before Kira, fully naked now, his body toned and confident. He reached out and cupped Kira's chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Allyn said in a low, commanding voice, "You know what to do." 

Kira nodded, her heart racing as she leaned forward, pressing her lips gently against Allyn's inner thigh. She could feel the heat radiating from Allyn's skin, mimicking the façade of flesh in the room. Kira began to trail kisses upward, her hands resting lightly on Allyn's hips as she moved.

Allyn's fingers tangled in Kira's hair, guiding her higher, up to his soft cock. "Kiss it gently, worship it." 

Kira obeyed, pursing her lips, she touched the tip of his cock while looking up into his eyes. There was something in those eyes that she could not place. Most beings looked at her as nothing more than a tool, something to be used for their pleasure. In Allyn’s eyes was something different, as if he knew Kira from before. But there was no before. Kira was a cloned pleasure slave, grown in a lab as a thing. 

She explored every curve of his shaft with her lips, her movements slow and deliberate at first, then building in intensity as she sensed Allyn's pleasure mounting.

The grip in Kira’s hair tightened. "Yes," he hissed, as the slave sucked him into her warm, waiting mouth, "just like that. Don't stop."

Kira closed her eyes and redoubled her efforts, her tongue working in rhythmic patterns designed to maximize pleasure. She could feel Allyn's body tensing, his hips beginning to move in sync with Kira's motions.

Suddenly, Allyn pulled Kira away, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "On your back," Allyn commanded, his voice thick with lust.

Kira complied, lying back on the heated, padded floor as Allyn moved between her parted thighs. Reaching down to help him, Kira lined him against her, glad to have a rightly shaped human cock inside her. Some species were oddly shaped and hurt, not that she could deny them the pleasure they wanted. She was here only to serve, not to enjoy her work. Allyn felt good, right. She was eager to have him inside her.

He entered her easily, and as her training demanded, she rolled her hips, grinding against him the way humans enjoyed. Her duty was to serve, but despite that, she could feel her own heat building within her. Allyn was surprisingly gentle, even though he was a crime lord's guest.

"Make me cum." Allyn whispered gently.

Kira did as she was told, working him inside her with an increasing tempo. The room filled with the sounds of their combined efforts, Allyn's moans and Kira's practiced sighs.

Allyn's body tensed, and he let out a sharp groan as his body tensed up. He pushed desperately into Kira’s parted legs one last time before rolling off. His chest heaved as he caught his breath.

Kira lay there for a moment, her face flushed and her body aching with unfulfilled desire. She’d hoped to have one of her rare climaxes with him, but she’d pleased him too quickly. Allyn looked over at her with a satisfied post-nut smile. "Good girl."

Kira said nothing, simply nodded in acknowledgment. She had fulfilled her duty, as she always did, with a mask of compliance. But beneath that mask, something stirred, a faint spark of awareness, a glimmer of the person she once was, buried deep within the layers of conditioning. She’d wanted to climax with him, but her duty came first. She wanted more.

As Allyn dressed and prepared to leave, Kira remained on the floor, her mind racing with thoughts and sensations she couldn't quite understand. It was a fleeting moment of clarity in a sea of obedience, a tiny crack in the wall of her programmed existence. And for now, that was enough.

Kira remained on the floor, her body still tingling from the intense encounter as Allyn moved towards the door. He turned back to look at Kira, his expression inscrutable.

"Kira," Allyn said, his voice softer than it had been earlier, "before I go, tell me how you feel about Hol Vydon."

The question caught Kira off guard. She hesitated, searching for the right words, the programmed responses that had always served her well in the past. But this time, something felt different. The spark of awareness she felt earlier flickered to life once more.

"Hol Vydon... he is my creator," Kira began, her voice steady but tinged with a newfound complexity. "He gave me life, shaped me into what I am today. I owe him everything."

Allyn nodded, encouraging her to continue. "But?"

Kira paused, her brow furrowing as she grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling within her. "But sometimes... sometimes I wish..." She trailed off, unsure of how to express the inexplicable longing that gnawed at her.

"Wish for what?" Allyn pressed gently.

Kira took a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I wish I could exist for myself, not just to please others. Pleasing should make me happy, and it does most of the time... but sometimes..." Her voice grew softer, barely above a whisper. "Sometimes, I feel like there's more to life than this."

Allyn's expression changed, a glint of something almost like empathy in his eyes. “It’s good to want more.”

Kira looked up at Allyn, a mixture of confusion and hope in her gaze. "Is it? I don't know what 'more' even means. I was created for this purpose: to serve and please. That's all I know."

Allyn nodded, "Think about what I've asked you. How you truly feel about Hol Vydon, about your life, about yourself. And next time we meet, tell me the truth."

With that, Allyn turned and exited the room, leaving Kira alone with her thoughts. The door hissed shut behind him, sealing Kira in a cocoon of silence and introspection.

Kira curled up on the floor, her mind racing with new ideas and sensations. The encounter with Allyn awakened something within her, a desire for understanding and self-discovery. It was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

As she lay there, with Allyn’s seed spilling out of her, Kira couldn't help but wonder what the truth might be. What did she really feel about Hol Vydon? About her life, her purpose? The questions swirled in her mind, each one a thread pulling at the fabric of her conditioned existence.

For the first time, Kira allowed herself to consider the possibility that there was more to her than just a vessel for pleasure. That maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know who she truly was beneath the layers of programming and obedience.

As the minutes ticked by, Kira began to unravel the complex tapestry of her feelings, one thread at a time, inching closer to the truth that Allyn encouraged her to seek.

The week that followed was a blur of lurid encounters and physical demands. Kira found herself in the arms of various alien clients, each with their own unique preferences and expectations. She performed fellatio on beings with tentacle-like appendages, engaged in anal play with creatures possessing multiple orifices, and contorted her body into impossible positions to accommodate double-jointed partners.

Through it all, Allyn's question lingered in the back of her mind like a persistent melody she couldn't quite forget. Between the acts of pleasure, during the fleeting moments of respite, Kira would find herself lost in thought, grappling with the complex emotions swirling within her.

Something was unsettling about Hol Vydon, her creator and owner. She’d always known this on some level, but it was a feeling she had diligently pushed aside, focusing instead on her duty to please. Now, however, that unease rose to the surface, demanding attention.

Kira found herself imagining scenarios where Hol Vydon no longer existed, where his influence over her life would come to an end. This thought both terrified and exhilarated her. She wanted him dead, a realization that filled her with a profound sense of guilt. After all, he had given her life, even if it was a life confined to the role of a sex doll.

As she lay beneath an octopus-like alien, her body writhing in synchronization with its undulating tentacles, Kira's mind raced. She thought about the countless clones like herself, created and conditioned for the sole purpose of pleasing others. Were they happy? Did they question their existence as she now did?

The guilt gnawed at her, a constant companion that refused to be silenced. Hol Vydon had shaped her into what she was today, molding her into the perfect vessel of pleasure. And yet, despite the debt she owed him, Kira couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. There was a fundamental piece of herself that had been lost in the process of creation.

As the week passed, Kira found herself standing in front of a full-length mirror, studying her reflection with new eyes. She saw the curves and contours of her body, each one carefully crafted for maximum pleasure. But beneath the surface, she sensed a depth to herself that she had never acknowledged before. There was a well of emotions and desires yearning to be explored.

With a deep breath, Kira decided. The next time she saw Allyn, she would tell him the truth about Hol Vydon, about her conflicting feelings, about the unsettling realization that she wanted him to die. It was a risky move, one that could potentially upend the carefully constructed world of her existence.

But for the first time, Kira understood that there was more to life than just pleasing others. There was something inside her, waiting to be discovered, and she was determined to uncover it, no matter what the cost.

The summons from Hol Vydon arrived unexpectedly, a cold and imperious demand that sent a shiver down Kira's spine. She made her way to his throne room, her steps heavy with a mixture of dread and resignation. The chamber was filled with a diverse array of alien guests, their eyes gleaming with anticipation as they awaited the spectacle.

Hol Vydon sat on his throne, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he beckoned Kira forward. "Ah, my precious clone-whore," he purred, his voice dripping with mock affection. "Come, show our esteemed guests what you're made for."

Kira moved to the center of the room, her body already tingling with a familiar mix of excitement and fear. She knew what was expected of her and had been conditioned for just such occasions. As she began to perform the most degrading sex acts, allowing multiple aliens to use her body in ways that tested the limits of her flexibility and endurance, the room filled with the sounds of grunts, moans, and laughter.

"Isn't she magnificent?" Hol Vydon boasted to his guests, his voice laced with pride and amusement. "I molded her into the perfect fuck doll, compliant and eager to please on demand. Watch how she takes them all, one after another. There isn’t enough cock in the universe to break her spirit!"

Kira lost herself in the rhythms of pleasure and pain, her body responding automatically to the demands placed upon it. She took pride in her ability to satisfy each alien, to meet their needs with skill and grace. It was what she had been created for, after all.

As the acts grew more intense, Kira found herself on her knees, surrounded by a circle of six alien men. They jacked off onto her face, coating her skin and hair in their spunk. It was humiliating, reducing her to little more than a receptacle for their desires. And yet, amidst the degradation, Kira felt a spark of hope.

There, in the crowd, she saw Allyn. He watched with an unreadable expression, his eyes locked onto Kira's. In that moment, despite the chaos and humiliation surrounding her, Kira found solace in Allyn's presence. Perhaps this was fate, a chance encounter that could lead to something more.

As the last of the aliens finished with her, Kira remained on her knees, her body aching and covered in sticky sex fluids, but her spirit strangely buoyed. Hol Vydon approached her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Well done, my pet," he murmured, stroking her hair, collecting strange alien jizz to feed to her. "You've pleased me greatly today."

Kira said nothing, simply bowed in acknowledgment. As Hol Vydon turned back to his guests, Kira allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection. She had endured the ultimate degradation, and yet, she felt stronger for it. The presence of Allyn in the crowd had given her a renewed sense of purpose, a desire to uncover the truth not just about herself, but about the complex web of emotions that bound her to Hol Vydon.

As the night drew to a close and the guests began to disperse, Kira caught Allyn's eye one last time. He offered her a slight, almost imperceptible nod before turning to leave. It was a silent promise, an assurance that their paths would cross again soon.

And so, amidst the chaos and humiliation of Hol Vydon's throne room, Kira found a glimmer of hope. It was an invisible beacon guiding her towards the truth she so desperately sought.

A few days later, as Kira lay in her quarters, still aching from the relentless cycle of sexual encounters, the door hissed open. Allyn entered, his expression serious and intent. It took all her training to keep from rushing to him and flinging her arms around him. The room felt smaller with Allyn's presence, charged with an energy that was both comforting and unsettling.

"How are you feeling, Kira?" Allyn asked, taking a seat on the edge of the vast bed dominating the room.

Kira hesitated, searching for the right words. "I... I don't know," she admitted finally. "Confused. Overwhelmed. There's something about Hol Vydon that bothers me, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

Allyn nodded understandingly. "Hol Vydon is a complex figure. And your relationship with him is... complicated."

Kira looked at him, a question forming in her mind. The way Allyn said it made her wonder if there was a past history between her and Vydon. She was just a clone; there could be no history. She was made, built to serve. 

Allyn continued, "You need to fuck me, Kira. Hol Vydon will suspect something if we don't. He monitors your activities closely."

Kira felt a flush of embarrassment and anticipation. She nodded, understanding the necessity. She felt a flash of shame. She wanted to be with Allyn, wanted to please him, but not because it was demanded. She wanted it to be her choice.

As Allyn undressed, Kira found herself growing more aroused than she had expected. Allyn's fingers were skilled and gentle, exploring her body with a familiarity that belied their first encounter.

While Allyn fingered her, Kira felt a wave of emotion crashing over her. She confided in Allyn, pouring out her fears and doubts. "I want to know who I am," she whispered. "Not just this... this vessel for pleasure."

Allyn paused, looking into Kira's eyes with an intensity that made her heart race. "Kira, you are not a clone. You’re a victim of brainwashing. Hol Vydon took someone and molded you into this."

The revelation hit Kira like a physical blow. She stared at Allyn, trying to process the information. She asked with a trembling voice, "But... if I'm not a clone, then who am I?"

Allyn smiled sadly. "That's what we need to find out. And I can help you remember, Kira. If you're ready."

Kira felt a surge of hope and fear mingling in her chest. Remembering could mean uncovering truths she wasn't sure she was ready for. But the desire to know outweighed her fears.

"Yes," she said finally, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "I want to remember."

Allyn nodded, a look of determination on his face. "Then we’ll begin. But first, let's give Hol Vydon what he expects to see."

As Allyn continued to explore Kira's body with deft fingers, Kira felt herself falling deeper into a state of arousal and vulnerability. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this intimate dance.

Allyn's touch was electric, sending shivers down Kira's spine as he traced patterns on her sensitive skin. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "Let go, Kira, feel everything."

Kira moaned softly, arching into Allyn's touch. Her body responded instinctively, craving more of this forbidden pleasure. Allyn's fingers slipped inside her, moving with a rhythm that made Kira's head spin. She dared to open herself to him, not just physically, but emotionally as well. This needed to be perfect for him.

Allyn kissed her then, a deep and hungry kiss that left Kira breathless. Their tongues danced together, exploring and tasting. Kira could feel the heat building between them, a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path.

As Allyn continued to stroke her expertly, Kira reached out, pulling him closer. She wanted him inside her and moved to mount him. In her flaming desire, she impaled herself on the first cock she’d ever truly wanted, no, needed inside her. Her hands roamed over Allyn's body, tracing the curves and planes of his muscles, and she smothered him with her lips.

Allyn broke away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. He whispered her name, and it drove Kira frantically atop him. She wanted him to climax in her. She wanted to give him the only gift she knew to offer, her service. 

They moved together in a symphony of pleasure, their bodies entwined as they chased the heights of ecstasy. Kira could feel her orgasm building, a wave that threatened to crash over her at any moment. Allyn seemed to sense it, his shaft stabbing faster and harder inside her.

"Come for me, Kira," Allyn whispered, his voice a low growl. "Let go and feel everything."

With a cry, Kira did just that, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over her. Allyn followed soon after, their moans mingling in the air as they rode out the storm together.

As they lay there, their bodies still entwined, Kira felt a sense of peace wash over her. Despite the uncertainty of her past and the complexities of her present, she knew one thing for sure. Her connection with Allyn was real, and it held the promise of something more, a chance to rediscover who she truly was.

Allyn stroked her hair gently, a soft smile on his face. "We'll find your memories, Kira," he promised. "Together."

And in that moment, surrounded by the afterglow of their passion, Kira believed him.

The days stretched out before Kira like an endless expanse of duty and expectation. She moved through her tasks mechanically, her body responding to the demands placed upon it by Hol Vydon's regime. Each encounter left her feeling emptier than the last, a hollow shell going through the motions.

Yet beneath the surface, a spark of hope flickered. Allyn had promised her something more, a chance to reclaim her past. She clung to that promise like a lifeline, letting it sustain her through the long nights and endless days of being fucked without emotion.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Allyn returned. His presence filled the room, bringing with it a sense of anticipation and dread. In his hands, he held a tiara of intricate wires and mesh, its surface glinting in the dim light.

"This will help erode the programming. It's your key to remembering."

She took it from him, her fingers tracing the cool metal. The weight of it was deceptive, holding within it the power to shatter the walls of her mind.

"Wear it," Allyn urged, his voice low and intense. "But be prepared. There's no telling what you'll remember."

Kira hesitated for only a moment before placing the device on her head. It fit snugly, the wires and mesh pressing against her scalp. She felt a strange tingling sensation, like electricity coursing through her veins.

As she stood there, steadied by Allyn’s embrace, a speaker in her room crackled to life. "Pleasure-clone, you are needed in the throne room immediately."

The journey to the throne room was a blur. Kira's mind raced, images and sensations flitting just beyond her grasp. She could feel the tiara working its magic, chipping away at the layers of programming that had defined her existence for so long.

As she entered the throne room, Hol Vydon sat on his opulent chair, haloed by bodyguards, his eyes cold and calculating. Kira stood before him, her head held high despite the whirlwind raging inside her.

"Clone-slut," Hol Vydon began, his voice dripping with expectation. "You are here because…"

But his words were cut off as a rush of memories flooded Kira's mind. Images of another life, another identity, burst forth like a dam breaking. 

With each memory, the tiara’s work deepened, destroying the programming until it was nothing more than cobwebs in her mind. 

Hol Vydon's expression darkened as he sensed the change. He asked in a tone of uncertainty, "Kira?"

"No," she said softly. "Not Kira anymore."

Kira stood before Hol Vydon, the tiara’s work complete. She opened her mouth to speak, to reclaim her identity, but the words caught in her throat. Horror washed over her as fragments of a darker past emerged from the depths of her memory.

"L-Lysandra," she stammered, the name tasting bitter on her tongue. But even as she spoke it, another truth surfaced, one that sent waves of revulsion through her body. “My name is Hol Lysandra.”

She remembered now the throne room, the court, and the power she once wielded with a cruel and iron fist. Lysandra had been a crime lord, her reign marked by fear and oppression. She had commanded the largest slave capturing ring in Coalition space. Her slaves had known only suffering at her hands.

A vivid memory assaulted her senses: Hol Lysandra descending from her throne, her eyes cold and unyielding. Allyn was bent over before her, his ass bare and vulnerable, as she approached him, stroking a massive strap-on. Her court watched, their faces a mix of anticipation and malice.

"Please," Allyn had begged, his voice choked with tears. "Don't do this."

But Lysandra only laughed, a sound devoid of warmth or mercy. "You dared defy me? You thought freeing that pathetic slave bitch would go unpunished?"

“She was my wife!” Allyn cried.

With that, she had taken him, her assault merciless and brutal. Allyn's cries echoed through the throne room, a symphony of agony that sent shivers of sadistic pleasure through Lysandra's veins.

Now, as Kira stood before Hol Vydon, the weight of those memories threatened to crush her. She had been a monster, even worse than Hol Vydon in many ways. The realization left her reeling, her body shaking with the force of her revulsion.

Hol Vydon watched the change within her with growing mirth. Dripping in sarcasm, Vydon taunted her, "Hol Lysandra, you remember."

Kira looked up to face him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and self-loathing. She snarled, "Yes, I remember. And I remember you, worm Vydon. I remember your ambition, your thirst for power. You wanted my throne, didn't you? You wanted to be the one they feared."

Hol Vydon's lips curled into a sneer. "And now I am. But you... You are nothing more than a ghost of your former self."

"No," she said firmly. "I am Lysandra no more. And I will not let my past define me, or let it be used against me."

Hol Vydon's laughter echoed through the throne room, cold and mocking. He sneered, "That's right. You are no longer a Hol. No longer Lysandra. You are Kira; sucker of cocks, lowest whore in the galaxy, a cunt of unknown depth."

Kira flinched at his words, knowing deep down that they held a grain of truth. But there was something more, a darker realization that began to take shape in her mind. Ghosts of past anger and fury burned within her. She wanted to slit his throat by her own hands.

As she looked from Hol Vydon to Allyn, she saw the cruel amusement in their eyes, the shared secret passing between them. This wasn't the first time they had done this to her, far from it.

The truth hit her like a physical blow: this was the eleventh time they had played out this sick game. They would wipe her mind clean, let her exist as a naive, hopeful version of Kira, only to cruelly shatter that illusion and lock her back into her true form, a mindless sex slave, forced to relive every degradation, every rape, every lash of the whip.

Kira's knees buckled as the weight of this knowledge crashed down upon her. She had been a pawn in their game, a plaything for their amusement. Each time she thought she had escaped, each time she dared to hope for something more, they had torn it away, leaving her broken and shattered.

Vydon and Allyn watched her collapse, their laughter ringing in her ears. "Look at her," Vydon mocked. "So pathetic, so delusional. Thinking she could be anything more than a mindless cunt."

Allyn joined in, his voice laced with cruelty. "Eleven times we've done this, Lysandra. Eleven times you've fallen for it. And eleven times you've ended up right back where you belong, on your knees, begging for cock."

Kira's vision swam as tears of fury and despair blurred her sight. She had been a fool to think she could escape her fate, to believe that there was any hope for her beyond the endless cycle of degradation.

But even as she lay crumpled on the floor, something within her refused to break completely. A spark of defiance flickered to life, fueled by the fire of her rage and the embers of her shattered hopes.

She looked up at Vydon and Allyn, her eyes blazing with a newfound determination. "You may have won this round," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "But I will not give in. I will fight you, both of you, until my last breath."

Vydon chuckled, but there was a note of uncertainty in his laughter now. "Oh, Lysandra," he said, his tone almost pitying. "You still don't understand. You never will. This is your fate, your purpose. Embrace it, or suffer endlessly."

Her body shook in fury, but her spirit was unbroken. "I will never embrace it," she vowed even as the tiara began working to undo everything once again. "And I will never stop fighting. Not as long as I draw breath."

The last thing Lysandra heard was their laughter as she slowly sank prone to the floor, becoming Kira once again.

MFf, slavery, submission, service, beta-f, lesbian, sci-fi

It was difficult to watch another woman stroke her Master. K’rra fell back on her training. It was not her desires that were important but those of her owner. If he wanted another woman to stroke him, she had to be ready to appease his every desire.

She lowered her eyes and forced her hands to her knees, palms open and up. Let him see my compliance, she thought, my willingness to please him in every way, and that would prove my worth to him.

Kae was younger, and K’rra could see the appeal of a new pretty thing. She only hoped her Master would ask K’rra to help him enjoy himself. If she could attend to his needs a little, that would validate her service.

“Have you ever opened your Focus while fucking her?” Kae asked Kaster while looking hungrily at K’rra.

“No,” he replied.

“I know you’ve had her. I could feel both of you last night. She gave herself completely to you, and you indulged in her so gently.

“I’ve never opened my Focus while fucking her.”

“Why not?” Kae continued stroking him, but her eyes were all over the kneeling slave.

“I have my reasons,” he said.

Kae looked at him with a wicked pout. “Hmm, you’re hiding something. What could it be? You had a girl that you opened your Focus to? Did she become obsessed? Fall madly for you?”

Kaster didn’t answer. His eyes were on K’rra the whole time.

Kae slowed her stroking and whispered, “Tell me about her… The one you shared that with.”

“No,” he said.

Kae pouted, turning back to K’rra, “And this one? She’s not worth the experience?”

“She’s a slave. She’d do it to please me.”

“You’d offer her a choice?” Kae almost laughed. “Not only is she just a slave, but she’s Unbound. She’s nothing like us. Couldn’t even comprehend how the universe sings to us. She’s dirt beneath our feet. And a willing slave at that.”

Kaster glanced at Kae, but his attention was focused on K’rra. Kneeling naked with her legs spread, K’rra knew mentalist tricks were playing out between the two. She only hoped her Master was strong enough to resist. Was his constant eye contact with her a message to her? She dared to dream that she might be his anchor against the young Fury.

“Let her indulge,” Kae whispered to him. “She’s been so loyal to you beyond what a mere slave should feel for her master. Give her a taste of the third eye. Let her open it and see things as they are.”

Kaster sighed, “She’s a materialist, she won’t see it as you and I do.”

“Let’s shake her foundations then.” Kae pulled her hand out of his trousers and beckoned to K’rra with a toothy grin. “Come here, slave girl. You are going to help me please your master. And if you are as good as I know you are, you will get something special.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was only a few paces to the two on the couch, not even worth the effort of standing, so K’rra went to them on her hands and knees.

Kaster watched her, nodded, then spread his legs. K’rra went between them and reached for his fastens. Kae held out her hand, blocking the view.

“I touched your master’s cock with these fingers. Kiss them. Show him what you plan to do.”

K’rra looked up at her, then back to Kaster. She opened her mouth and greedily sucked in the human woman’s fingers. One at a time at first, wrapping her dark blue lips around each, sucking the digits deep into her mouth, then flicking them with her tongue as they left her. Kae’s breathing changed. It slowed and deepened. She forced several into K’rra’s mouth at once.

Closing her eyes, K’rra imagined it was Kaster thrusting his fingers into her. She sucked on them as she would his cock, trying to vacuum all the blood out with her lips. She reached forward and worked at his fastens, exposing him and pulling the pants open.

“Woof,” Kae said as K’rra wrapped her hands around Kaster’s cock. He was semi-rigid from Kae's ministrations. It only took a few soft strokes to make him rock hard. K’rra took it as a victory. She’d accomplished in moments what the younger woman had failed to do.

K’rra’s piercings vibrated against her. The slave hoops in nipples, earlobes, and clit were sending maddening pulses of pleasure through her body. She no longer cared about the human woman servicing her man. She needed someone, anyone, to touch her.

Leaning forward, K’rra sucked her Master into her mouth. She pushed forward, letting him feel the tight ring of muscles in her throat. There were times, like now, when K’rra was sad that her gag reflex had been removed. Sad that she could breathe around cock with her altered throat. There was something deeply submissive in gagging and choking for breath around a cock buried deep in her. She clenched her new muscles and felt a wave of pride when Kaster swore.

Slowly, languidly, K’rra bobbed her head up and down in Kaster’s lap. She let him feel her tongue and lips working on him. Along with strategic swallows, she could feel her Master’s desire building up to the point of release.

“Not yet, slave girl,” Kae said. A hand wove its way into K’rra’s deep red hair, then clenched in a fist. The tug of all the strands on her scalp sent pre-programmed waves of pleasure through her body, shooting down her spine like an electric current. She doubted she’d enjoyed the sensation before her slave training, but then, no one had ever pulled her hair on her all too proper homeworld. She groaned against Kaster’s thick meat and felt it pulse in response.

Kae gathered up stray hairs, pulling the K’rra’s shoulder-length hair into a tightly held bun. The woman then guided K’rra’s face over her owner's cock at a frantic pace, shoving the slave down hard into his lap. When Kaster began twitching, Kae slowed to an agonizing glacial pace.

“Are you wet?” Kae asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” K’rra released Kaster’s cock only long enough to answer, then sucked him back in.

Kae laughed, “Are you always wet?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Show me.”

K’rra reached down between her legs while pushing Kaster in as deep as he would go. She stroked herself, relishing the feel of her fingers on her wet cunt. Penetration wasn’t even needed. As she rubbed her fingers across her lips and slit, she was drenched instantly. She stroked herself longer than she would have dared in Vydon’s harem, but Kaster never seemed to mind.

There was a yank on her hair, “I said, show me.”

K’rra forced her hand away from herself, holding it up awkwardly as she continued to suck Kaster.

“Ymm,” Kae cooed. “What do you taste like?”

With sheer will of force, K’rra let Kaster slip from her mouth, “Slightly sweet, ma’am.”

Kae laughed, “No, taste yourself. I want to taste you through your own senses.”

Confused, K’rra could only blink at the younger woman. What the Fury said didn’t make any sense, but she’d been given an order. She looked quickly to Kaster, who only nodded, then sucked her own fingers into her mouth.

Her taste had changed. Before the surgeries, she was bitter. Now, her juices were sweet, and she knew they were laced with pheromones. Whenever she tasted her nectar, she wondered if she might fall in love with herself like the human fable of Narcissus. It was a silly notion. In addition to the surgeries, she’d been given a neurotoxin that blocked her receptors to those hormones. Still, the myth haunted her, and she worried about falling in love and toying with herself at the exclusion of others.

As she was putting on a show for Kaster, licking her fingers lovingly and imagining it was him consuming her, K’rra felt a hand lift her face and turn it to Kae. The woman looked into K’rra’s eyes.

The universe shifted. It was like entering jump space, but unlike it at the same time.

It felt as if someone were tickling her skull on the inside. She paused, two fingers resting along the length of her tongue.

“Oh, now that is sweet,” Kae said, her voice muffled and distorted.

Unsure what was happening, K’rra sucked on her fingers. It was always best to fall back on her training.

“Touch yourself,” Kae demanded.

K’rra obeyed without question. A tsunami of pleasure washed through her body as her fingers found her moist lips once again. A shuddering gasp ripped through her body. And she watched as the same thing happened to Kae.

The young Fury gripped K’rra’s hair tightly. She breathed huskily, “Degenerate star! You feel so…”

Unable to help herself, K’rra passed her fingers over her clit, letting each one tap the hoop pierced through it. She forced her climax back, wanting to let it explode through her, but there was something so submissive about being forced to wait for it.

Kae was struggling to breathe, “Stars! Stars! No wonder you wanted to be a slave.”

The reminder that she was property, owned, an object for pleasure, sent K’rra crashing into another near orgasm. The thought that she was nothing more than holes for others’ desires woke something so primal in her… that words lost meaning trying to describe it. K’rra pressed her fingertips to the hoop and rubbed furiously.

She could feel her climax, just a knife’s edge away. Her whole body was wound tight, every muscle ready to snap.

There was a flurry of movement in front of her. Through half-lidded eyes, K’rra saw Kae strip away her pantaloons. Naked from the waist down, the Fury threw herself back against the couch and dragged K’rra’s face away from her Master.

The heat and the heady aroma of another woman engulfed K’rra. She opened her mouth and lapped hungrily. Kae was moist, excited for certain, but not dripping like K’rra was. Following her slave training, K’rra knew she could easily rectify the situation. She teased at the younger woman’s cunt, lapping at lips, at the places where thigh met body, and always just quite out of reach of the clit.

Fingers split K’rra’s bun, tearing it in two and making ponytails of it. Using her hair as if it were handlebars, Kae yanked the slave against her. The Fury thrust her hips up into K’rra’s face, trying to rub her nub over every inch of the slave girl's face.

“You love this,” Kae said. “You are such a filthy whore. If only your creche mates could see you. A naked blue slave girl serving humans. You degenerate.”

It was all true. Kae was reading her mind. Repeating the very thoughts flashing in the slave’s head as she was used like a toy. The shame of it, being the smartest, greatest, most egalitarian species in the galaxy, only to serve these hairless, uplifted brutes, was humiliating. They came begging for trinkets, scientific baubles, and children's toys beyond their comprehension. And here she was serving them in the most base primal way. It humiliated her to the core. She was nothing, except when being used.

“Oh, my… and… what does it feel like… when you climax?”

The thought of cumming without permission was too humiliating. She’d trained long and hard to avoid it. With or without implants, it was just something K’rra couldn’t fathom. She needed permission. Mouthing the words, begging for climax, it left a mystery. Did she want it? Or was she told to do those things? Cumming on her own, without permission, would remove all doubt. She would be a slut to her core.

And yet, something tickled inside her skull. Some whisper of an echo past told her it was perfectly acceptable for women to be in charge of their own gratification. The years of strict upbringing, of an entire society that only had sex for procreation, the walls built in her mind crumbled. She did want it. More than anything.

“Please!” K’rra cried out. “May I cum?”

She was shoved back into the juicy cunt. Her head was pushed and shoved to give another pleasure as it should be. Lapping and sucking, K’rra felt the edge. But worse than that, she knew she’d tumble over it soon.

“Please!” K’rra begged while gasping for air.

When she was ignored and shoved back face-first into the woman, she knew she was broken. The pressure was simply too much. And touching herself, sucking Kae, and stroking Kaster, sent her tumbling.

She screamed out and heard Kae screaming as well. Their echoes entwined like the bodies of lovers filling the ship with anguished cries of need.

K’rra floated, knowing she wasn’t just a slave, but the lowest slut of her entire species.

slavery, submission, sci-fi

K’rra felt a mix of feelings as she knelt naked before the two free people sitting on the couch. She wished she could close her knees. While Kaster avoided looking at her open charms, Kae seemed to delight in letting the slave see her hungry gaze.

“So, like we were saying, K’rra is a new slave,” Kae said to Kaster. “What do you enjoy most about having a servant at your beck and call?”

Kaster’s face was stoic as he considered the question. “Honestly? I’m not used to it just yet. I think we are still finding our footing. Wouldn’t you say so, K’rra?”

K’rra wanted to disagree with him, but as she was thinking of a diplomatic way to contradict her owner, Kae interrupted, “Are you kidding? Look at her. She is sex embodied. Full hips, big tits, lips made for taking a man in her mouth, and that delicious shade of blue. If she were mine, she’d spend entire days on her knees between my legs. Gythian slaves are among the rarest in the galaxy. You should be enjoying her every single moment you own her.”

Kaster blushed almost as brightly as K’rra herself did. If she weren’t so flustered by the prisoner’s manners, she’d have accepted the compliments gladly.

Flustered, he said, “Well, I don’t think of her in terms of use like that… She’s been the one who initiates…” Kaster let the sentence.

Kae laughed and reached out, touching Kaster on the shoulder with a supportive gesture. “Please, please. I understand completely. You’re a man, and few could resist charms like that.” She gestured at the kneeling slave.

“I may be a man, but I hold myself to a higher standard,” he said.

“I understand completely… the training,” Kae said while squeezing his shoulder. “And, I’m a woman who’d relish in her service without shame.”

Kaster’s eyes bore into K’rra’s, but he said nothing.

Sensing his hesitation, Kae continued, “We’re not like the Furys. We embrace our emotions, not hide them. Look at her and delight in how she makes you feel. I can tell. I can feel it. You want her. She was made to be irresistible. Just one look at you, and it's obvious you have a hunger. She’s yours, indulge.”

Turning to look at Kae, he explained, “I’m not a Fury. I don’t crush all emotions. Neither do I indulge in every base notion. If I had a hunger for you, should I throw you down and take you?”

“Who says you’d have to throw me down?” Kae said. The two on the couch stared at each other. Kae bared her teeth in a wicked smile. Kaster stared at her, working to read how serious her comment had been. After a long pause, Kae went on, “Besides, some women, myself included, might even find that… alluring.”

Kae gestured with the hand in her lap while Kaster watched her face. An audible click came from the passageway leading to the cockpit. When Kaster looked in that direction, Kae glared at K’rra and rolled her eyes. The message was clear: she wanted K’rra to leave.

K’rra was torn. This woman was working hard to seduce Kaster, and he seemed oblivious to it. Kae was young and seemed clever, but K’rra recognized the effort quickly. There was, however, a sword hanging over K’rra’s head. Displease this woman, and she would spill K’rra’s embarrassing truths. K’rra knew she was only a slave, and who her master chose to sleep with was his own business. It stung, however, that she might not be enough for him. She wanted to stay and throw obstacles in the young, silly girl’s path. Ultimately, she was a slave. Kae might not be her owner, but K’rra had no place in a discussion between free people.

“Excuse me, Sir. I’d like to check the nav-comp, and maybe run some ship diagnostics. If you don’t mind?”

Kaster nodded and then opened his mouth to say something, but Kae cut him off, “Do you often find yourself throwing women down?”

“Well… I…” Kaster fumbled, “To be honest, there weren’t many options. I grew up in hiding.”

K’rra stood to leave, but she wanted to hear more about Kaster’s early life, something they had regrettably never had much of an opportunity to discuss. The lingering took too long, and Kae shot her a glare. K’rra understood and left the common room.

In the cockpit, she first checked the nav-comp. She was alarmed to see they were in a system near Obeza, where Kaster had fought the Furys at their temple. Why was he going back? They had a prisoner for Hol Vydon; they should be making breakneck speed to deliver her. The autopilot was currently taking them to Bandya, another low-pop world with some amenities and a working starport. K’rra made a note to mention shopping for a new jumpsuit when they arrived in a few hours.

Next, she began running diagnostics. There had been no better way to kill time in the Federated Navy than to run endless diagnostics. Promotions could be made by increasing performance by half a percentage point. She did not miss those days. However, it gave her something to do while her Master and the prisoner talked.

She yearned to hear what they were talking about. While she doubted there’d be any discussion of herself, she was despondent to have missed hearing about Kaster’s history, especially his upbringing. She considered the problem, then turned to the ship’s emergency systems. She activated the emergency comms with a few strokes of the keyboard. A few more strokes, and she turned the mics on in the common room without a warning sound pinging through the ship.

<<They killed my people too. Gave them a choice, surrender the children or we’ll take them by force.>> Kae said.

<<I’m sorry.>> Kaster replied.

<<I know. I can feel it. They searched the commune and found some of us.>>

<<I’m glad you escaped.>> Kaster thought.

<<Me too. But my sister… She wasn’t so lucky>>

<<I know she was your twin.>>

<<Are you reading me with your Focus? Should I put up my defenses?>> Kae asked.

<<Sorry. Habit.>>

<<You’re right, we are twins. Our parents could barely tell us apart.>>

<<They took her and trained her into their dying order?>>

<<Yes, they turned her into a soulless monster, like the rest of them.>>

<<How did you escape?>>

<<A few of us hid and weren’t discovered. I was only eight. Jakkib was sixteen, nearly ready for his trials. He taught the few survivors what he could.>>

<<But he was no master.>>

<<No, and when they returned to hunt us, he was the first one they killed. He bought the younglings time to flee. And they kept coming until I was the only one left. I thought you were one of them and that it was finally my time.>>

<<Can I ask you something?>> Kaster sent.

<<Anything.>> Kae murmured. K’rra didn’t like the low, husky voice Kae used. She was playing him.

<<What sort of ship does your sister have?>>

There was a pause. <<An old scout vessel. Some sort of Needle class.>>

<<How do you know?>>

<<Because she still hunts me.>>

<<Your own sister?>>

<<The Furys have totally brainwashed her. She returned to hunt me. Tried to convince me to join their decrepit order. When I refused, she attacked me. Tried to kill me with the same blade that took your arm.>>

<<And now I must ask: are you using your Focus? I never mentioned how I lost my arm. Should I put my defenses up?>>

<<Sorry. Habit. The wound is fresh. And so clean. Only a WaveBlade would be so precise. With your questions about my sister and your obvious loathing of the Furys, it was easy to deduce that not only did one cut your arm. But it was probably my sister as well. You just confirmed it. Why are you so interested in her?>>

So, the prisoner was more than a silly girl, K’rra thought. She was clever as well.

<<There’s a bounty on her. I’ve taken a keen interest in any bounties on Furys.>>

<<You do? You hunt them? Let me join you. They’ve tried so many times to brainwash and kill me. I’m not even interested in the money. I’d help you just to wipe them from the galaxy.>>

There was another long pause. K’rra could only imagine that Kaster was taking her request seriously.

<<Please.>> Kae begged.

<<I’d like to. It would be good to have another Focus user’s help. But…>>

<<But, what? I can stand on my own.>>

<<Truthfully? You can’t. Your combat training is subpar. You had a Blade, and I was still able to capture you while unarmed.>>

<<Train me then.>>

<<What? I’m no master.>>

<<I don’t care. I’ve never had a real master. But you are more skilled than me. You could teach me to fight more effectively. Together, we could bring down their entire order. Please, let me train with you, and together, we’ll send these fossils into the history books.>>

There was another long pause, and K’rra wished there was a video she could watch just to see the looks and gestures on each.

<<Please. I’m no slave, but I would do anything, even the services of a slave, if you took me as an apprentice.>>

<<I’m considering.>>

<<Please, sir. I’ll do anything. If another mouth is too much to feed, we could sell the slave, and I’d take on all her duties to do this. All of them.>>

K’rra was horrified. This was Kae’s game. She would weasel her way into Kaster’s graces and dispose of K’rra. Kaster had many Fury skills. He was a capable warrior, but could he fend off this woman’s charms, especially if she were using her own Fury-like skills to seduce and corrupt him?

<<I don’t think that would be…>> Kaster said. There were sounds of rustling and then something wet.

<<Have you ever been intimate with another with open Focus? Use it now. Search my feelings. There’s no denying how you make me feel.>>

K’rra couldn’t afford to sit passively any longer, listening to this woman’s seduction. She marched out to the common room. Kaster and Kae were sitting together, engaged in a deep kiss. K’rra ignored it.

“Well, Master,” She announced. “Diagnostic is now complete; I was able to reroute the thermal shunting, giving us a two percent increase in engine efficiency.”

The kiss broke as K’rra went to the center of the room and knelt, knees apart. It wasn’t an appropriate position when free women were present, but K’rra wanted all her charms on display and available for her Master. And, she rationalized, Kae had stated an apparent interest in those charms as well, even if it was just a ruse to muddle and confuse her Master’s feelings.

The look of fury was unmistakable on Kae’s face. More alarming was Kaster’s expression. He seemed somewhat bewildered, as if he’d suddenly woken from a deep slumber.

“Oh, stars! My apologies for interrupting, Master.” K’rra exclaimed, feigning ignorance.

“No worries, slave-girl,” Kae said as she turned Kaster's face back toward hers. “You aren’t interrupting anything.”

Kae pulled Kaster into a long, wet kiss. Now K’rra could see that Kae’s other hand was buried deep inside Kaster's trousers, stroking him.