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This was not the first time I’d carried out this gambit.
I activated the sex drone and settled into the controls. The path from its storage bay to Murderbot’s room was narrow but easily traversed. Nobody was nearby, but I tried to be quiet, just to be sure. I opened the panel that hid the entrance to its room and stepped inside.
It wasn’t here, of course. There was a meeting. I was also in attendance, but I had more than enough processing power to engage in a little mischief.
There was my target. Murderbot was wearing its crew uniform, the same as it always did for work hours, but over the years I had slowly built up a stash of comfortable loungewear that it liked. Its favorite hoodie was draped over the back of its desk chair.
I picked it up and, out of curiosity, squished my face into it. I didn’t have olfactory senses, but I knew it would smell like Murderbot.
The hoodie was too big on me, baggy and with the sleeves threatening to envelop my hands entirely. The added warmth of clothing would increase my use of coolant, but not enough so as to be a problem.
Well, then. Step 3: Arrange drone on bed.
There were several options. On my stomach with my legs in the air was undeniably seductive. Or I could lie on my back, spread my knees. I could touch myself like that. Turn on the code that allowed this body to feel pleasure from physical touch, stimulate myself until I dripped on Murderbot’s bed. It would make me regret that. I could imagine it so well, after all this time together: me with my face shoved into the wet spot on the bedspread, its hand between my legs, stretching me to the limit with its thick fingers, and the snarl in its voice as it called me filthy and desperate and pathetic.
Oops. There went the first trickle of the lube release. Luckily, I had left the panel in place that concealed the hole, which should contain the problem.
I chose to lie on my stomach, facing the door so that Murderbot would see the surprise first thing when it came in. Then I left the drone in its position and returned this scrap of my attention to the meeting.
Murderbot’s part of the meeting had concluded, and it was staring past everyone at the wall. Its drones were watching the goings on. Murderbot was watching Sanctuary Moon.
I pinged it.
It pinged back. What?
I pinged it again.
Its brow scrunched minutely, and then its eyes narrowed in suspicion. What did you do?
Would you like to find out? I asked, brushing against it flirtatiously.
It didn’t react so much that our crew would notice, but I could detect the rising flush to its face. It dropped its gaze to the table.
Did you give the drone a mouth? it asked. An astute guess, but we’d made the design together.
Come and see.
At the conclusion of the meeting, it returned to its quarters, and I returned to the drone. I made the partition, becoming the smaller piece, most of the ship’s functions under the control of the primary iteration. This left me arranging myself coquettishly, head resting on one hand, one foot tucked over the other. Like this, I was visible from the door, and Murderbot saw me, stepped inside, and let the hatch slide shut again.
Hi, I said, and stuck out my tongue.
It wasn’t actually a tongue, obviously, but it was a good mimicry. It was coated in the same slick, stretchy material as the hole between my legs, but inside of it were the mechanisms that allowed me to move it. I didn’t have the same extreme flexibility of a human tongue, but it was sufficient for me to be able to lick things.
Murderbot said nothing. Its drones swarmed me, but it turned away. The only indication that it was planning anything was that it set itself to Do Not Disturb in the feed and activated the sound baffle. I watched it shrug its jacket off and drape it over the back of the desk. Then it bent down to remove its boots.
By the time it was rolling up its sleeves, that thrill of anticipatory fear had grown into full on giddy terror. I pinged it, and it finally glanced over. It looked at me, one eyebrow quirked, and the corner of its mouth curled up.
I wanted to shrink back and make myself so small I disappeared.
Then it was on me, and I said on pure reflex, “I’m sorry!”
It seized my arms and dragged me to the edge of the bed. “For what?” it asked, cool as anything. “Being such a tease?” It reached into my code and told the panel between my legs to retreat.
I squeaked and tried to shove my hand down there, but it just held me still and let me jerk against its grip. A trickle of lubricant began dripping down my leg. I could see in my cameras that there were two intel drones down there, intently recording every humiliating moment of my evident desire for it.
“You poor little slut,” it said softly, looking at me—looking at my mouth, that same transfixed gaze it got when it saw my hole. “Have you been in here all alone? Thinking about your next chance to get fucked?” It dipped lower as it said this, until its mouth nearly brushed mine. “You’re dripping even more now.”
I tried to say, “I can’t help it,” but I lost the words as it kissed me, tongue sliding into my mouth, exploring curiously. I tried to play along, move my tongue against its, and it inhaled sharp and deep through its nose. I didn’t need scans to know it was aroused.
It broke away, leaving my mouth a little wetter than before, and I swayed into it, wanting more than anything for it to kiss me again.
Instead, it picked me right up off the bed, and threw me across the room.
It was a good throw, calculated and careful. I mostly skidded across the ground, no loud impact to bring anyone running. The wall broke my momentum, and I tried to sit up, but Murderbot was there, and it clearly had other plans.
“No, don’t get up,” it said, and put its boot on me, pushing me into the floor. “Wet and dirty things belong on the ground, don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I said, and it came out crackling as bad as it did after it had been taking me to pieces for thirty minutes. (My voice wasn’t routed through my mouth—it would be too muffled. But that meant it would be able to hear me my reactions the whole time.)
“Yes, what?”
I said, “Yes, Murderbot.”
It shoved me with its boot, sending me sliding uncontrolled into the corner of the room. “Stay there,” it ordered. “Don’t move.”
I locked my joints and watched it in my sensors and cameras as it crossed the room to the storage cubby I had so been hoping it would pick. In my thermal mapping it was running hot, flushed across its face and chest and down between its legs. The problem with the position it had put me in was that the hoodie was caught under me. The lubricant slowly oozed across my thigh toward the fabric, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Murderbot pulled out the dildo and set it aside, then weighed the harness in its hand.
“What do you think?” it asked. “Do you deserve to see me undress?”
There was no good way to answer that question. “Whatever you want,” I tried.
“You can earn it, I think,” it said, and started putting the harness on. “Do a good enough job and I'll consider taking my shirt off.”
I immediately pulled up every log I had of it sucking on my fingers or licking me out or once, memorably, putting its dildo on me and making me sync to the sensory data before fellating me. This was a large amount of data, but I had plenty of time to go through it while it finished adjusting the harness and fixing the dildo it place.
Then it was back, standing over me. “On your knees,” it said.
I unlocked my joints and sat up, then adjusted my position so I was kneeling in front of it. I could see its face in a camera view, so I focused on the dildo, hovering alluringly close to my face.
Murderbot mouth was threatening to curl into a smirk. “You've been dripping,” it said, teasing. “But that's the wrong hole. Are you going to be good and turn on the lube for your mouth, or do I need to pry you open and squirt enough in that it starts oozing back out?”
Oh, that image was so arousing that I almost forgot to reply. I can activate it.
“Good,” it said, and pressed the tip of the dildo to my lips. “Do it.”
I initiated the process, and fluid instantly flooded my mouth. I hurriedly dialed back the quantity necessary until it would keep me wet without spilling over. Hopefully. Done.
“Good,” it said. Then it pulled away and reached down. Murderbot caught me under both arms and lifted me—not all the way up, but enough that my knees were in the air and the tops of my feet were still on the ground. Then it leaned in the rest of the way and kissed me.
It wasn’t exploring anymore, but taking. Claiming. I clung to it. I had no leverage to move unless I actively tried to stand, which went against its instructions. It pushed its tongue into my mouth, breaking the seal that kept the lubricant contained, but it was hard to care. In the camera view its brow was furrowed as if in concentration. I had some limited motion, not a true hinged jaw, but I kissed it back as best I could, a little clumsy.
It hooked its arm more firmly around my back, freeing the other to cup my face. It held me where it wanted me, and all I could do was let it devour me.
I decided I liked this kind of kissing. I liked its tongue in my mouth; I liked being able to kiss back. I felt tremendously desired.
Eventually it broke away. It just rested against my face for a moment, its organic skin against my inorganic casing. Then it gave me one more kiss, hard and hungry, and dropped me back down to my knees.
I sank back onto my heels, on level with the dildo again. I'd been dripping more lubricant from between my legs.
Murderbot carefully used its fingers to aim for my mouth a little better. “Open.”
I stuck out my freshly dampened tongue to brush the tip and used it to help guide it in.
It took its hand off the dildo and a moment later its breath caught on a quiet groan. I had been watching for it, so I’d felt it activate the sensory data, but even so I would’ve guessed just from its change in affect.
Regardless, I was increasingly preoccupied with my task. It felt like it took up more space in my mouth than I'd quite accounted for, and we'd barely started. I could do it. I knew I could. I just needed a chance to calibrate.
I was carefully rubbing at the tip with my tongue when Murderbot said, You don't have your pleasure mapping program running.
It would only distract me.
In retrospect, if I wanted it to leave something be, this was obviously the wrong thing to say.
It said, Turn it on. Calibrate for the mouth hole instead.
I resisted the slightly panicky urge to tell it that a mouth was by default a hole. I would do a worse job if I was so distracted, but it knew that. Watching me struggle was the whole point. But I wanted to do well.
Murderbot pinged me, and I had to either comply or tell it I couldn't.
What if I perform poorly as a result?
Then I'll help you.
Okay. Okay. I enabled the program and set it to the specified parameters. Done, I said through the initial surge of altered sensation. Holding it in my mouth reminded me of holding it in my processors, the constant, shivery awareness of it, how easily it could play with me from there.
Good, it said, a hint of real affection seeping through. Then it reached down, cupped my head, and thrust in.
—Oh, fuck, I was so screwed. The flash of pleasure was intense and heady, just like when it laid between my legs and lazily fucked me until I dissolved into utter incoherency. It didn't even do it very hard, but I throbbed as it slowly drew fully back out.
Well? it prompted.
I leaned forward and caught it in my mouth again. I had carried out many tasks while distracted by having it inside me. This was no different, at least in theory.
It sighed a little as I slid it deeper into me, a little hint of its pleasure that I latched onto immediately. I traced the tip of my tongue down the length of its shaft, then used it to apply pressure as I drew back again.
I couldn’t do a lot of the same tricks that Murderbot used on me. It was a biter. What I could do, though, was let it almost fully slip out, manually increase the amount of suction being provided, and use that to suck it back in hard.
It gasped, half surprise and half pleasure, and then the dildo smacked into the lube release at the back of my mouth, and I tried to recoil.
Murderbot grabbed my head and held me still. It pushed back in, a slow and piercing slide, until the dildo bumped up against the same mechanism. Pressure warnings popped up as it leaned into me.
“You don’t like that, do you?” it asked, a hint of strain in its voice.
It was taking a lot of effort not to struggle. No. But my face was touching it, and I liked that. It was over its clothes, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like without them. I could have stuck my tongue out and licked it at this proximity.
“Mm,” it said, one of its noncommittal sounds that always came out half a moan. “I like it, though.”
I could tell how much pressure from the dildo and from me was being transferred to the sensitive nerves between its legs. It had to feel good.
It made another one of its soft, shaky noises. Still holding my head in place, it backed off enough to thrust in, jarring the lube release. This was the thing that it loved so much: giving me pleasure in a way that was borderline intolerable. It gave another testing thrust, and it moving inside me was achingly sweet. My hand came up and fisted in the fabric of its trousers when it hit the mechanism again.
Then it pulled all the way out. “Stick out your tongue,” it said.
I did, and and some of the lube tried to escape my mouth. My face was visibly damp in the cameras. I tried to wipe it away, but Murderbot knocked my hand aside.
It caught my tongue between two fingers and pinched hard. “Don’t just sit there,” it said. “I’m not going to do all the work for you.”
Sorry.
“Make it up to me,” it said, and let go. I leaned in and used my tongue to pull it back into my mouth.
I still had the suction high, which drew it in hard, knocking into the lube release. I wanted to turn it down, but Murderbot made a soft sound of pleasure the instant the suction caught the dildo, so… I couldn’t. I would just have to deal with it.
Rubbing my tongue against it was so sensitive for me, though. It sent sensation quaking through me. I needed to concentrate. I began backburnering inputs. I didn’t need sensor readings or environmental controls for this room. I didn’t need cameras. I didn’t even really need my eyes. Audio, yes, but I could review the actual footage later. I did my best to curl my tongue around the dildo and rub it with my lips, and it started thrusting into me again.
I made an involuntary noise and it said, “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”
Oh, that was unfair. Yes, I said—whined. My thighs were wet under the hoodie. You know it does.
You feel good, too, it whispered to me in the feed, and I lit up with pleasure and relief and desire.
I began varying the amount of suction, letting it ebb and flow, and tried to match what I did with my tongue to the rhythm, as close to the squeeze and release of muscles as I could give it. We’d never tried to recreate that sensation, and I wasn’t sure how much it would enjoy this. Every time the pressure shot up and pulled it in hard, a spike of pleasure rattled me. It kept smacking into the lube release. It kind of hurt. Not the alerts, but the way my programming interpreted the sensation was so akin to it crushing me in the feed. Intense and frightening and so good that it was like pain.
Murderbot swallowed a little gasp the next time the suction caught it. Instead of continuing to thrust, it pushed all the way in and ground there. My face was touching it. It was grinding on me.
“Okay,” it said, voice gone tight and breathless with pleasure. Then it peeled its shirt off.
I snatched my visual inputs up. I was so close to the exposed skin of its stomach, but—I couldn’t. Not without permission. But it was still… I was doing a good job. This was a reward.
I was leaking some kind of overwhelmed adoration into the feed, and Murderbot put a hand on my head. The shirt got tossed in the direction of the recycler, and then it was in my head, not asking, just finding the controls for the suction and cranking them to maximum. Leave it like that, it said.
Then its other hand was on my head, and it started fucking me in earnest.
I said something stupid, a mess of phonemes and noise, and I grabbed it with my other hand. Oh, fuck. I dropped my visual inputs again and just clung on. It was smacking into the lube release and there was something wet dripping off my faceplate and I was burning, burning. I was still trying to participate, rubbing with my tongue, but it was hard. The creeping sense of an impending climax was difficult to ignore. I loved when it made me come with it buried inside me. In any sense, in any way. My favorite was it in my head, but this was a close second.
Then a damage alert popped up, startling me out of the reverie. I pushed it into the feed urgently, and Murderbot paused, still resting in my mouth.
“Good to know,” it said, and I had a full half second to understand and be scared before it tightened its hold on me and—not even fucked me, slammed the dildo into me. The damage alert on the lube release flagged a higher priority, but there was nothing I could do. I made a strangled, panicked sound, clinging to its legs, and then it fucked in at just the right angle. The dam broke.
I tried to shove it away on pure reflex and slammed a hand over my mouth when it rocked back half a step. It was too late. Clear slick lubricant was flooding my mouth and seeping out, drippy and viscous. I couldn’t hold it all in. There was too much.
Murderbot bent down and grabbed my wrist. “Let go,” it said, and the note of heat and glee in its voice made me want to curl up into a ball. I was already halfway there.
I let it push my hand away, and then it was sliding two fingers into my mouth. I made a desperate, panicked noise. No! I shrieked in the feed. Don’t, fuck, don’t—please! Please, Murderbot, I can’t—I can’t—
It ignored me completely and twisted its fingers, opening the floodgates. Lubricant streamed out of my mouth, and I was making some kind of drawn out panicked noise, unable to stop it, unable to curl away, only able to sit there and listen as Murderbot laughed, wicked and delighted.
“Oh, ART,” it said. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
That wasn’t fair at all, and I whined at it, beyond words, only humiliation and terror and—obedience.
“You got my hoodie dirty,” it said. “More than, really. You’re filthy. Look at you.” It shoved a drone input into my head. I cringed away from it, and it chased me, not letting me escape until I accepted the camera view and looked. There was shining slickness all down my front, and the hoodie was turning into one big wet stain. Lubricant was still actively oozing from my mouth. The reservoir was only half empty.
Murderbot used its fingers as a hook, forcing me to tilt my head back up, and then it was pushing back into me with a thick wet squelch. I fell into it, needing something to keep me from completely dissolving. The worst part was that it still felt good. More lubricant sloshed out of me with each thrust, thick and messy and horrible, but I was still so wound up. I was making a weird sound, almost like choking, a whimper that went on and on, and Murderbot’s hands on my head were the only reason I wasn’t trying to get away.
Are you going to come for me? it asked. You silly dirty thing. Whining about this as if I haven’t done worse. You like this. Don’t lie to me.
I didn’t have it in me to reply. I was busy squirming, not just in the feed but physically, and I could feel the steady drip of lubricant between my thighs and onto the ground. It knew about that. There were intel drones watching the evidence of my enjoyment ooze out of me.
Go on, it said. Try to prove me wrong. Don’t get off on this. Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you to wet broken pieces.
The sound I made was half crackle and half sob, and then I came.
It fucked me right through it, sending hot shocks through me, making my moans spiral up into a high desperate keen. Everything was static and aching and rolling waves of pleasure. It was so good, and the slick wet slide of its dildo into me was the only thing I could track for several long and glorious seconds. I realized I was saying so good, so good, fuck—
Yeah, there you go, Murderbot said. Just give in. Its grip on my head was tight, fingers digging in. I knew it was close, because its breathing was rasping into an audible moan as the dildo repeatedly collided with the lube release. I pressed my tongue against it as hard as I could, and it gasped. Then it slammed in and ground against my face, doubling over with a long and drawn out whine. Its hips jerked, pushing it in and out of my mouth just a little, and I took a risk and nuzzled against it as much as I could.
“Ah! Fuck,” it said, and then used its hands to rub my face against it again, gasping. I could feel the hot edge of its orgasm pulsing into the feed, slowly starting to ease.
It pulled out of my mouth and I immediately slapped a hand over it again. Lubricant dripped slowly out from between my fingers.
“Okay,” Murderbot said, ragged breathing starting to settle a little. “Okay. Can we stop the leak?”
I sent a negative in the feed. There really wasn’t a better option than just letting it all finish draining. We could move to the shower, maybe, since the drain was already there.
Murderbot made a thinking sound, and then it was kneeling in front of me, helping me peel the wet hoodie off. It tossed it aside without a second glance. I wanted to cling to it, but I didn’t want to get it any dirtier than it already was.
“Turn around,” it directed, and when I did, it bent me over onto my hands. Go ahead and get that all out, it said, and then it fit itself up against my hips and thighs and pushed the dildo into me.
I dropped the hand I’d had over my mouth onto the floor and bowed my head. It thrust, pulling a long, shaky sound out of me. I opened the code that gave me physical pleasure and redirected it to concentrate on the original hole.
It wasn’t fucking me to get itself off. I could tell just by the way it moved. It pumped into me, long strokes in and out, which sent a shiver of pleasure through me so strong that I thought I might come again instantly. I concentrated on Murderbot, trying to forget the wetness oozing from my mouth, feeling instead it running its hands over me and the sensation of its body against mine. It thrust in again, and I moaned.
“That’s it,” it said, voice gone softer now. “Just feel. Let me make you feel nice.”
I hung there under it, held up by the firmness of the dildo sliding inside me and Murderbot’s hands holding me against it. That dizzy feeling was on me again, making it hard to think, but it was good to be touched.
The lube reservoir finally started to run dry, but Murderbot didn’t stop. It kept fucking me until I was floating suspended over the puddle, something sharp but good slicing its way steadily through me.
Give me another one, it said to me, coaxing. You’ve done so well. Feel good for me.
I didn’t have the words to reply, but it stayed against me, playing a little with me in the feed, until I seized up with pleasure all over again.
It left me kneeling there alone for a few difficult seconds, and then it was back with a stack of towels. It dried my face and neck, gave my chest a perfunctory scrub. Then it wrapped me in the others and carried me to its bed. It sat there, leaning back against the pillows, with me slumped against it in its lap.
“Yeah,” it was saying softly. “That was a lot, huh? You’re okay. I’ve got you. You did amazing.”
I want a kiss, I said, feeling small and pathetic and like I was too dirty from the mess to get to ask for that.
Murderbot tipped its head towards me immediately, and I twisted to meet it. It pulled me closer with its arms until I had to put a hand on its chest. I had only asked for one kiss, but it stayed there with me, lazily rubbing its lips over mine and dipping its tongue into my mouth. Eventually I stopped feeling so shit and started feeling something like quiet happiness instead. Murderbot showed me a little hint of how much it enjoyed this, and it made me feel like a bulb flaring to light.
Eventually it broke the kiss, nuzzling along my jaw instead. “You okay?”
Better now.
Good.
We may not be able to do that again until we can get this drone to engineering for full repairs and cleaning.
I got a little carried away, it said, sheepish but not regretful. If you print me a part I should be able to install it.
That was reasonably likely. I didn't really care to get into the logistics any further. I felt too content to make plans yet.
Murderbot was petting my arm and side through the towel. You were gorgeous, it said, unembarrassed by saying it the way it would have been years ago. You did so well. You did amazing. I know I was pushing you really hard for some of that.
I liked being pushed. I liked proving I could surpass whatever challenge it was putting in front of me.
Getting there could be agony, though.
Kiss me again? I asked, and it did.