Joyce's Anniversary
Joyce's Anniversary
A surge of energy spread across her synthetic brain. The world blurred into view and she was awake again. She was clothed, sitting in the lounge chair of her bedroom. Her internal clock labeled two weeks since her last boot. And she stood, feeling her stiff servos free up again. She wasn’t concerned, she and her husband, Daniel, had agreed to do this for their three year anniversary. This was part of her request.
The last time she was awake, they had a passionate date night. An early celebration at a restaurant and then dancing. They came home, she freshened up, and as she finished purging her Synthetic Metabolic Systems, he hiked her dress up, and began a lengthy pounding on her. Three hours later, she had decided to let their cat into the bedroom. She bent down to pick up her brassiere, and she felt his hands wrap around her waist. She straightened up, feeling his breathing down her neck, and his member swelling against her ass. “Joyce, power down.” She collapsed into his arms, and that was it.
It was night, and the lamp illuminated the room. She looked down. Her dress was gone, and instead she wore sweats, and a crop with the words “internet princess” on it. Her breasts weren’t the biggest, but neither was the crop top, having only barely covered her nipples. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and she was glad to see her readout displayed no clean up necessary. She turned to the bed, where roses had been set up in the shape of a heart. A note read “Happy Anniversary, Joyce.” Two pictures were included. One of her, power off, nude, and in the chair where she woke up. The second was of her again, this time Daniel was using her. He was inside her, and her dark, blank eyes stared back at the camera. In lipstick, across her stomach, the word 걸레 , or ‘whore’. She felt a ping of excitement course through her sexual systems. “Joyce,” Daniel had walked in from the bathroom. She was facing away, and before she could turn to address him, he started commanding her. “Command mode, Change settings to ‘Plastic Trash’ preset.” Joyce remembered planning this, and felt as her systems rewrote and altered her behavior. One choice they made was keeping her personality emulations on, but removed her ability to talk. On top of that, any command dictated after the word ‘Sexbot’, was to be obeyed. Daniel joked that he can command her to tear out her CPU. And she nervously laughed, knowing he wouldn’t.
Daniel’s hands floated to her hips, rubbing down the length of her thighs. She was enjoying this. They turned up her sexual reactivity, including behavior. She closed her eyes, and reached backwards, grabbing his shirt shirt. He dragged his way to her breasts, and cupped them. She wanted to tell him how much she appreciated his anniversary gift. Instead, she slid a hand across his abdomen, toward his swollen member, as it poked her in the back. “Sexbot, suspend movement control.” She froze, but continued moaning as he grabbed “Sexbot, bend over.” She set her face in the comforter. She felt him grab her hands, and then slid himself inside. She let out a muffled moan. He began to thrust into her. She felt him slide in and out of her synthetic pussy. “I love my plastic slut.” She moaned as he pinched and twisted a nipple. His fingers maintained their vice, until he slid his fingers away. She inhaled sharply, feeling her nipples harden against her comforter. She couldn’t move to push away, so she moaned into the comforter. He pulled out, and she heard him chuckle. “Damn, you have a magic pussy.” Five years of nonstop fucking, and it still feels like it’s fresh out of the box.” She wasn’t mail-ordered. Not by a long shot, but he liked using that analogy. She felt his thumb run up and down her pussy. She shuddered as he pushed in her artificial clit. The model she had installed had a little quirk, maybe something wrong with the sensor, but it cascaded pleasure data in a sharp spike. This normally caused her to flinch, but with the restriction her husband placed, she only felt it rise. It did cause her to hold her breath, which she released when he finished applying pressure. However, he did it again. And again. “Aww, my robot seems to be broken.” He squeezed hard, causing Joyce to grimace. She felt her system stress, and her temperature rose. But she loved it. She even felt her wetness double, and dribble out of her increasingly needy hole. “Hmm, seems like she loves it.” He let go and she breathed in sharply. Joyce felt him slide two fingers into her, and curl towards a conjuncture of pleasure relays that were purposely built to provide sexual data in high concentration; her G-spot. But to her husband, it was an itch he needed to obliterate. He was a gentle soul, and a hopeless romantic. Right now, however, he was as primal and tough as an animal in heat. He did not ease her into it, he moved fast, and pushed into her. For a good minute, the only sounds in the room were Joyce’s muffled, gasped moans, and her slick folds violently played with. After what seemed like only a minute, she felt a hotness begin to grow inside. A knot beginning to tighten. Her breathing quickened, as did her moaning. Her sensors were beginning to cascade with pleasure data. His fingers, relentless, rubbed mercilessly at her g-spot. He placed a hand on the small of her back, and pushed his knuckles upwards, pushing at what should be her pelvic floor. She was close. So close, she almost cried out in a frustrated grunt when his fingers retreated, and he commanded “Sexbot, reset coital cycle.” It is indescribable how infuriatingly excited she was to be on the edge of an orgasm, only to have every bit of pleasure removed from her. He rubbed her clit a few times, and chuckled. “Sorry. Real pleasure is human. Your pleasure is nothing but programming.” He slid a thumb into her folds, and slipped in. She was beyond dripping, but his touch felt new to the session. What should have been pleasurable, only felt like a tease. She whimpered. Within an instant, he brought a powerful palm down across her ass. “I’m sorry, did I hear a whimper? I don’t think my pocket pussy should be allowed to express that.” He grabbed her by the nape, pulling her upright. He turned her around and pushed her onto the bed. She looked at the ceiling. “Sexbot, suspend sexual pleasure data.” She realized she couldn’t see him directly. But she felt him spread her legs, holding them up, and then the peripheral shape of him started to move rhythmically. He was fucking her, using her. She knew this much, and she felt him inside. But it felt hollow. Like moving an arm, or a leg. He built speed, and maintained it. After a minute of sustained pumping, he began to grunt. Joyce felt her own arousal climbing. The hot, tingling sensation returned to her. And soon, she was letting out her own moans. The sounds of self gratitude and arousal, rather than her pleasure from sex, escaped her mouth. Soon, her husband took note, and slowed, and retreated. The movement stopped, but she felt close. The thought of decades of code. The elaborate emulation of a person. Her likes and desires. All of it had been reduced to a whimpering mess. The idea that she was just a vagina with legs. And for the moment, that’s what her existence was. A toy. Carnal desires made tangible. The only things that mattered in that moment was her husband’s pleasure, and in return, her own pleasure. “Sexbot,” he began “reset coital cycle. Emulate Post-coital sensitivity.” Again, her pleasure was wiped clean. Her folds, however, felt like she had just finished cumming. The heightened sensitivity proved to be her undoing. Especially when he curled back into her g-spot, and let out a sultry set of powerful moans. “Sexbot, unlock movement.” Joyce immediately turned into a moaning, writhing mess. She gripped the sheets, and squeezed her legs around his arm. His hand chased her pelvis as she tried sitting up, and he leaned in to kiss her. Oh fuck. The thought came to her, but only a moan resounded out of her. She was going to cum. And hard. She hadn’t cum this hard in a few months. It would be a welcome change. She felt herself grip around his fingers. “Sexbot, reset coital cycle. Resume Speech.” “FUCK.” She grabbed the receding hand, and tried grinding against his palm. But he had already moved it away, and picked her up. “Hold on Joyce, I’m gonna fuck you again.” He brought her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Sexbot, Sexual sensitivity, 500%” 500? How close is he? Or how hard is he-” His cock slid in, and it felt like she was dropped into an ocean of pleasure. And before she could breathe, he started pounding. She felt him lose balance, and she was pinned on the wall. His arms came up, and she was in a breeding press. Everything started to blur around her. The only thing that mattered now was his cock, sliding in and out. In and out. The sensation was like screaming at the top of her lungs. Like a car with the throttle wide open. Like it was the only thing she was meant to do. In. Out. In. Out. It was back. This time, it was a burning, primal need. An orgasm of gargantuan scale. “Baby-” He started going even faster. “--gon” Like hot coals. “c̸͎̚ǔ̷̗m̶̡͝m̵̧̒-̴͙͝” Like jumping off the bluffs. “I̸̗̔̑̐̅̿̀͝͝'̵̞̍̽̆́̆̀͋͝M̷̧̫͖͇̀͋̕ ̸̹̱̹͎͌͒C̵̡̮͚̄̇̃̀̅U̵͇͋M̴̧̫̻̤̺̗̞̦͗̒̈́̉̆M̸̡̘̝̘̟̖͆͗̋̌Ī̵̤͙̫͔͎̝̙Ǹ̸͔͎͇̠̪̜̏̾̐̃̔̕͠G̸̼̠̮͔͑̓!” She clamped down on him.
A wave of pleasure was-
She felt the power drain from her thoughts, and she slipped away into nothingness.
Her internal clock read fifteen minutes since her last shutdown. She sat up, and saw her husband, laying next to her. He was flaccid now. His cum was leaking out of her. Looking down, her chest was covered in it too. She threw a pillow. “You asshole. That was going to be the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had.” “Happy Anniversary.” “Fuck you.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Maybe I will.” She stood up, heading towards the bathroom. “Make it 600.”