Confessions of a Robo-Hottie - Revision history

Spaz: Text replacement - " type=comment editintro=Extension:InputBox/editintro comment preload=Extension:InputBox/preload hidden=yes default=Extension talk:InputBox buttonlabel=Post a comment on the talk page " to "{{Template:AddComment-Story|{{PAGENAME}}}}"

2020-04-26T05:47:21Z

Text replacement - "<inputbox> type=comment editintro=Extension:InputBox/editintro comment preload=Extension:InputBox/preload hidden=yes default=Extension talk:InputBox buttonlabel=Post a comment on the talk page </inputbox>" to "{{Template:AddComment-Story|{{PAGENAME}}}}"

← Older revision		Revision as of 05:47, 26 April 2020
Line 661:		Line 661:


	~~<inputbox>~~		{{Template:AddComment-Story\|{{PAGENAME}}}}
	~~type=comment~~
	~~editintro=Extension~~:~~InputBox/editintro comment~~
	~~preload=Extension:InputBox/preload~~
	~~hidden=yes~~
	~~default=Extension talk:InputBox~~
	~~buttonlabel=Post a comment on the talk page~~
	~~</inputbox>~~

	[[Stories\|← Story Archive]]		[[Stories\|← Story Archive]]

Spaz: Text replacement - "← Story Archive" to " type=comment editintro=Extension:InputBox/editintro comment preload=Extension:InputBox/preload hidden=yes default=Extension talk:InputBox buttonlabel=Post a comment on the talk page ← Story Archive"

2020-04-26T00:39:16Z

Text replacement - "← Story Archive" to " <inputbox> type=comment editintro=Extension:InputBox/editintro comment preload=Extension:InputBox/preload hidden=yes default=Extension talk:InputBox buttonlabel=Post a comment on the talk page </inputbox> ← Story Archive"

@@ Line 659: / Line 659: @@
 <End>
 -----
 [[Stories|&larr; Story Archive]]

Spaz: Text replacement - "Back to the story archive" to "← Story Archive"

2019-12-29T23:16:54Z

Text replacement - "Back to the story archive" to "← Story Archive"

← Older revision		Revision as of 23:16, 29 December 2019
Line 660:		Line 660:
	-----		-----

	[[Stories\|~~Back to the story archive~~]]		[[Stories\|← Story Archive]]

	[[Category:Bad Kitty]]		[[Category:Bad Kitty]]
	[[Category:Stories]]		[[Category:Stories]]
	[[Category:Built]]		[[Category:Built]]

Spaz: Text replacement - "realise" to "realize"

2019-11-02T05:20:49Z

Text replacement - "realise" to "realize"

← Older revision		Revision as of 05:20, 2 November 2019
Line 501:		Line 501:
	more. Was it the snap of the thong against my pussy lips or the		more. Was it the snap of the thong against my pussy lips or the
	fact that the damn thing had slid in so easily? I quickly began to		fact that the damn thing had slid in so easily? I quickly began to
	~~realise~~ that this whole affair with the cuffs, the collar, the slow		realize that this whole affair with the cuffs, the collar, the slow
	burn coming from my nipples and now the intruder in my pussy was		burn coming from my nipples and now the intruder in my pussy was
	already making me extremely hot and wet.		already making me extremely hot and wet.
Line 559:		Line 559:
	hitting it just short of the coat’s shoulder. It didn’t stop her		hitting it just short of the coat’s shoulder. It didn’t stop her
	from grasping the empty sleeve of the coat. As the girl squeezed		from grasping the empty sleeve of the coat. As the girl squeezed
	the sleeve she ~~realised~~ it was empty. Her hand went up the outside		the sleeve she realized it was empty. Her hand went up the outside
	of the sleeve to my shoulder. She then took a long look at my other		of the sleeve to my shoulder. She then took a long look at my other
	sleeve and leaned back to size up what she had discovered. The girl		sleeve and leaned back to size up what she had discovered. The girl

Spaz: Text replacement - "recognised" to "recognized"

2019-10-22T21:52:27Z

Text replacement - "recognised" to "recognized"

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:52, 22 October 2019
Line 254:		Line 254:
	***		***

	As some of you will have already ~~recognised~~, this is one of the		As some of you will have already recognized, this is one of the
	original robotisation machines. To be precise, this little beauty		original robotisation machines. To be precise, this little beauty
	is the NuU 3000, the very first working robotiser.		is the NuU 3000, the very first working robotiser.

Spaz: New page: * In a shameless attempt to garner a good review, a tech-loving woman named Stephanie finds herself converted into an obedient robotic slave. * Categories: bd, ds, fd, ff, hu, ...

2014-09-01T21:15:51Z

New page: *** In a shameless attempt to garner a good review, a tech-loving woman named Stephanie finds herself converted into an obedient robotic slave. *** Categories: bd, ds, fd, ff, hu, ...

New page

***

In a shameless attempt to garner a good review, a tech-loving woman
named Stephanie finds herself converted into an obedient robotic
slave.

***

Categories: bd, ds, fd, ff, hu, mc, nc, rb, sf

***

Author’s Note:

This is fiction as are all the characters contained within.
Any similarity to real people or events (without satirical intent)
is purely coincidental. I in no way condone the kidnapping of
sultry young women and their conversion into robot thralls. If you
cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality then please speak to
your Analyst about it.

If you’re not allowed to read porn then please don’t read mine, and
it is my porn, so please don’t repost it without giving me
some credit.

All feedback, comments and suggestions are gratefully received.
Please give me a shout at bad.kitty@hushmail.com

Miaow…

***

Gynoid technology has advanced dramatically (some would say
exponentially) over the last few years. The embarrassingly
unrealistic dolls of the early 21st century have been replaced by
uniformly lithe, svelte, supple, (and often pert), silver-skinned
babe-bots. Although, despite having unravelled a great many of the
universe’s secrets, no one has been able to adequately explain why
every one of them is called Stephanie.

From, Things Your Mother Never Told You, by Brainchild.

***

They say we only use ten percent of our brain’s capacity, and then
wonder what might be possible, if only we could unlock the hidden
potential of the remaining ninety percent. But in this, as with so
many things, they are wrong. It is a simple
misunderstanding, which births another urban myth. Almost as if the
simple act of repetition can create a truth of sorts, even when,
the reality is far more complex and indeed beautiful.

They also say that at the moment a decision is made, the
universe splits and that, while we continue along the path we have
chosen, in another reality our mirror-selves walk the fork’s
alternate branch. In this, they are at least partly right,
although, once again, the truth is far less prosaic.

Life is filled with choices, with infinite variations of cause and
effect. But, for the moment, let us restrict ourselves to the
contemplation of one individual and her singular decision.

[Run recording. Dialect file: Standard Yorkshire, late 20th/early
21st Century Earth.]

<low>

“Okay, do it to me!”

[Stop recording.]

How different our world might have been if she’d decided to follow
the other path, picked the blue pill, if you will (although I
appreciate that’s a pop-culture reference, which might go over the
heads of those of you who are young enough to see me as some kind
of living fossil).

Lecture Notes on Technophilosophy and Applied Cybernetics, VR
edition by Professor Ivana Tinkle.

***

It is early morning in the Great Northern Wasteland. The sun
brightens the slate grey buildings only slightly, as long streams
of workers trudge their weary way to the Mill/Pit/Telephone Call-
Centre (delete as appropriate).

The sound of wooden clogs striking the cobbles is almost enough to
drown out the angry growl of whippets. And we see one particular
character glance toward the camera before pulling the cloth cap
down more tightly over her long, blonde hair.

This is our heroine, Stephanie.

<note>

We pan around the towering smoke stacks. <This>

Our heroine does her piece to camera <should> Think Alfie but with less Zulus trying to escape Turin on
the back of killer bees (although if we can somehow crowbar,
“you’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off,“ into the
monologue somehow it’ll be fried gold!)

<switching>

Someone is following our heroine, but what is their intention? <And>

BBC Drama: Cool Chrome, Hot Flesh – The Robotunit Story: Early
Draft

***

A lot of controversy surrounds the practice of robotisation and the
early pioneers’ approach of abducting potential guinea pigs
probably doesn’t help. It is definitely easier to download a fully
formed personality into a waiting robot shell, than to create one
from scratch. But, truth be told, the main reason that robotisation
is still the process of choice for most major corporations is the
seemingly inexhaustible supply of willing (perhaps even eager)
subjects.

The fashion of wearing ‘abduct me, please’ badges (or in one much
emulated but never bettered episode, an oversized sandwich board,
complete with flashing lights and air horns), dates back to those
early days. And, for a short period, the title of ‘mad scientist’
became almost as acceptable to mother-in-laws as ‘heart surgeon’.

Naturally a few charlatans tried to cash in on this, offering ‘full
body conversions’ when all they really wanted was the chance to cop
a quick feel. Such behaviour was frowned upon then just as it is
now.

It was one thing for a scientist to person-handle their victim
during the transformation process… some even considered it a perk
of the job, but it was always done tastefully and in a manner
entirely justified in terms of both the science and the integrity
of their madness. But quite another to use the lure of
transformation to entice some chrome-loving lovely into potential
groping distance.

From, Things Your Mother Never Told You, by Brainchild.

***

<Michael>

Flash cut between Stephanie and stalker cam, build up the suspense
here if you can. (I don’t want to teach you your job, but remember
foreshadowing: four scares that come to nothing and then whammo!)

It is night in York or Leicester or some other ghastly place North
of Watford. We’ll need torches, mud, lots of mud and some gypsies
(are will still contractually obligated to include midgets? Check
that with someone in legal, okay?)

Stephanie’s walking home, (let’s say there were pork pies on the
line). The audience get glimpses of wet rubber, but not enough to
tell who or what is stalking her). She gets more anxious and
eventually starts running (straight into the arms of her abductor).

<Let>

Quick back and forth between the two women. (We’ll need someone who
doesn’t mind being dressed from head to toe in skin-tight latex,
maybe you should speak with Madam Lulu before going to Casting). In
reality the whole thing would be over in seconds, but let’s stretch
it out a bit and make it look as though she has a fighting chance.

<What>

So we end the scene with Stephanie lying in the gutter and the
latex lovely standing over her (she can suck her finger
suggestively if you think we can get away with it).

BBC Drama: Cool Chrome, Hot Flesh – The Robotunit Story: Early
Draft

***

“So, Stephanie, or do you prefer Steph?”

“[Statement] This unit is now designated, Robotunit8.”

“Fascinating, or at least marginally interesting, RU8. I can call
you RU8, can I?”

“[Humorous Retort] Sir can call this unit whatever he wishes.”

“Of course. So, tell me, RU8, if you’re the first human to robot
transformation, what’s the significance of the number eight?”

“[Embarrassed Admission] The initial seven attempts were…
unsuccessful.”

“Unsuccessful?”

“[Clarification] Yes, Sir. But we prefer not to talk about
Mistress’ Hall of Errors.”

“Well there you have, and why not? So, perhaps we can talk about
the film then. What do you make of it? And, was it a surprise to
see Eve Newton in the title role?”

“[Statement] This unit found the film to be amusing and
occasionally accurate. Ms. Newton herself is visually appealing,
but she lacks the shiny perfection that comes from being converted
into a will-less, sexbot.”

“Ah… quite. And what about the… well… erotic nature of the story?
There’s an awful lot of bare skin on display, especially in the now
notorious street abduction scene. How close to reality are those
scenes? Are they as justified as the film maker’s attest.”

“[Explanation] Yes, Sir, there was some nudity involved, although
mostly I spent my time totally enclosed in either latex or metal.
Well, that and an organic soup of buckyballs and fullerines.
Honesty, Sir there’s nothing more comfortable than having your
cells interwoven with nanotubules,”

“And the abduction?”

“[Expletive] Complete bollocks, Sir. The recruiter from NuU could
have simply asked this unit’s former self straight out if she
wanted an eternity of obedient bliss and absolute pleasure. Obvious
she would have leapt at the chance, there would even have been time
to stop off for a quick drink before the short trip to the
transformation centre.”

“What a shame. I suppose the autopiercer was another piece of
artistic license then?”

“[Answer] Oh no, Sir… that was one of the nicest parts of the whole
experience.

“Really? Err, I don’t suppose you care to set the record straight?
Feel free to give as much detail as possible.”

“[Statement] By a strange coincidence, this unit’s new book,
‘Confessions of a Robo-Hottie’ will be released on the 9th of this
month, available at all bookshops, recommended retail price, one
hundred and ninety Earth Groats.”

“Nice plug. “

“[Embarrassed Aside] Why thank you, Sir. Would you care to see more
of this unit’s interface sockets when this interview is over?”

“Ah… I mean… oh! Run the clip.”

Source Material: BBC Productions, Film 2115, With Barry Normanclone

***

As some of you will have already recognised, this is one of the
original robotisation machines. To be precise, this little beauty
is the NuU 3000, the very first working robotiser.

No, Candi, you won’t be able to ‘have a go’ in it!

Yes, Fraser, those are dildos and no, 21st Century women didn’t
come with two vaginas. Ask your mother about it, Fraser…

So, as you can see, the subject would sit here… yes , Candi, they
are extremely large, aren’t they? The subject would sit
here… the answer is still, no… The subject would sit here and these
cables would attach to the contact points embedded in her body.

Now, can anyone tell me why the robotisation process has only been
performed successfully on women?

Thank you, Fraser, most amusing. I’m glad to see you’re enjoying
yourself, paddling in the shallow end of the gene pool.

The simple fact is that women are poly-orgasmic and, as you must
already have gathered, the whole robotisation process requires the
victim… uhm, subject… to experience a series of multiple and
increasingly intense climaxes.

No means, no, Candi.

Oh fine, I can see we’re not going to get anywhere until I concede.
Now, does anyone except Fraser want to help me strap her into the
hot seat?

Prosecution Exhibit AE117: The Crown vs. Tinkle (Transcript of
lecture on Technophilosophy and Applied Cybernetics 08.10.11)

***

[Higher Functions Shutting Down]

[Unlock Memory Store Alpha Seven]

[Read Only Mode Engaged]

[Personality Emulation Active: Run Simulation, StephanieCore0001]

I decided on a career change pretty late in my life. Basically I
was bored. And when the Guardian advertised a position in the newly
formed Turing Agency, I practically leapt at the chance of doing
something even a little more interesting.

As a robot-fetishist the thought of being part of the team that
tracked down rogue AIs seemed perfect. After all, I was either
going to get to play with some of the most bleeding-edge tech
available, or, if I was really lucky, get droned by some insane
computer.

Mandy and I were part of that initial intake and we hit it off
immediately. She had the same irreverent sense of humour as I did.
She was a girl who took shit from no one, which was a breath of
fresh air. We more or less slid into flat sharing and that was
that.

She was a lot younger than me, and with the very off-putting habit
of strutting around the house wearing next to nothing. At first I
almost found myself falling for her dumb-blonde act, but there was
far more to her than simple eye-candy.

The Agency was also very different from what I’d expected. The
training especially, or perhaps the trainer. Gavin (though everyone
knew him as Mad Gav, presumably even his mother), had been a POW
during the last war. We put down his idiosyncrasies to that,
although, with the benefit of hindsight I think he was probably
just a major perv.

Anyway, for what ever reason he was fixated on the idea that four
out of five of us were going to be captured by the enemy at some
point during our time with the Agency and that it was our duty to
escape when and if that happened.

That led to a series of what were basically bondage competitions
between the trainee agents. I was tied up with rope, chains, cuffs,
telephone cable, bed sheets, whatever was available. Of course,
being something of a fan of bondage, I loved being tied up and,
much to their dismay, my captors soon discovered that I was very
good at escaping.

The problem was that for all kudos I earned escaping, I lost at
least as much when it was my turn to do the tying. Even Mandy, who
was constantly being caught, could escape my knots and, to make
matters worse, she had a natural flair for knotty predicaments.

My frustration at not being a good enough rigger (that’s the
technical term for someone who ties people up, see who says this
kind of book can’t be fun and educational?) led me directly into
Mandy’s arms.

We’d played a few bondage games before and I was coming around the
idea that Mandy had a bit of a thing for me. But that was fine, it
wasn’t as if I was about to let my guard down. You see I kept
telling myself that I was straight, but that an occasional lesbian
tryst was an acceptable way to let off some tension (isn’t self-
denial a wonderful thing?).

But now my competitive streak took over and my personal life became
a bondage marathon. Over the course of the next few weeks I wasn’t
only challenged at work but, when I finally got home I either spent
my time tied by or tying up Mandy. The sessions lasted six to eight
hours every night, depending on how well I was doing.

We bought books on the subject, purchased a small fortune in
equipment at a local adult store and bookmarked dozens of internet
sites in the hope of honing our skills. I was hogtied, ball tied,
frog tied, suspended, spread-eagled and inverted. I learned the
strappedo, the reverse prayer, elbow crush and the hammer tie. I
experienced crotch ropes, breast harnesses, thumb cuffs, posture
collars and nipple clamps. I discovered that every inch of a woman
could be tied.

Happy times.

Every evening became a contest to see who could tie whom in the
most intricate manner. For me it was the challenge. For Mandy it
was one opportunity after another to grope, fondle and stroke my
surprisingly supple body. Good bondage had to be tight, I would say
and Mandy would add that for it to be a challenging, you had to be
nude. So, in our own way, we were both getting what we wanted.

On the night that started my journey, the winner’s reward was for
the loser to take them out for a dinner of her choosing. Mandy won,
escaping from my handcuffs, ballgag and crotchrope 32 seconds
faster than I escaped from hers. Little did I know at the time that
Mandy had tampered with the timer to insure that particular
outcome.

Mandy chose a very nice and private restaurant on the outskirts of
town. After we’d showered, done our hair and fixed our makeup, I
was surprised to find a pile of skimpy lingerie and bondage gear
lying on the bed in place of the dress I had laid there. “Hey,
what’s up with this?” I shouted.

“I won, so I get to choose how you dress for the evening,” Mandy
replied.

I thought about protesting for a moment and then bit my lip. I
might just as well go along with it and take this as part of the
challenge as well.

The dress she’d chosen was more like a short teddy; it barely
covered my butt cheeks. Mandy insisted I go braless so the skimpy
top, with its thin, spaghetti straps did little to cover my
jiggling assets. Fortunately, I knew this restaurant and figured it
was dark enough to keep me from revealing my embarrassment.

Next came the accessories. First off Mandy handed me a thin, black,
leather collar. “Not bad,” I thought, most people would assume it
was a choker and not think twice about it. It had a loop in the
buckle for a padlock but there wasn’t one on the bed so I assumed
I’d dodged that one. No such luck of course. Mandy handed me a
large silver padlock with the word ‘Master’ engraved on it. “How
appropriate,” I thought as I slipped the hasp into the loop.

“Hold on a minute,” snapped Mandy. “Not so fast, lock this on too.”
And with that, she handed me a one foot length of chain.

“What’s this for?”

“For Later,” came the cryptic reply. So without any further
hesitation, I slipped the hasp through the chain, (it barely
fitted), and closed the ‘Master’ lock around collar buckle. It gave
a resounding click. The weight of the big lock and its dangling
chain was enough to pull my head back slightly. There would be no
slouching tonight.

I looked at myself in the mirror. “Hooker costume,” I thought.
Then, “Damn, I actually look pretty hot!” I turned to get a better
view of my back. My long, auburn hair at least hid the chain
trailing down my back but my arse was hanging out. I slid the dress
down to cover it and, as I did, my nipples popped out of the top.

“Good, I needed them next,” said Mandy approaching me with two
twist-ties in her hand.

“What are those for?” I whined. “Now hold it sister, just what is
tonight’s game?”

“Ok here’s the deal,” and Mandy went on to explain. “Tonight the
challenge is on concentration. During dinner I intend to read you
the tech manual for the new BT1000 bot-scanner. After dinner I’ll
give you a test to see what you remembered.”

“So what’s the big deal?” I asked.

“I have arranged several, uh, uh, distractions to really test your
concentration,” she answered grinning most wickedly.

“So those are going where?” I asked again, already guessing the
answer.

“On your nipples of course,” replied Mandy. Not waiting for
permission Mandy took each bud in turn and after rolling them
between her fingers to make sure they were hard, tied the wire
twist around their bases insuring the little nubs would stay
engorged with blood and hard for the entire evening.

“Not a bad feeling,” I thought. “Why didn’t I think of that years
ago?” However, once Mandy raised my dress back up to cover me and I
had taken a few steps, I began to feel the material rubbing across
each tight nipple and a tingle ran through my chest. “Oh! This
could be interesting,” I thought licking my lips.

Having finished getting dressed we picked up our purses and headed
for the door. I collected my coat from its hook.

“Oh let me help you with that,” said Mandy. I obliged by placing my
arms behind my back so Mandy could slip them into the sleeves.
Mandy’s next move was so swift that I swear I heard the racheting
of the handcuffs before I felt the cold steel tightening on my
wrists.

“Hey what the fu--,” I tried to complain. But before I could get
the words out Mandy was cramming a big, red ballgag into my mouth.

“All part of the distraction,” was all that Mandy would say. Next
she lifted my cuffed hands up to the bottom of my shoulder blades
and used another padlock to attach them to the chain dangling from
my collar. Now the weight of my hands pulled on my neck and I
discovered very quickly that I needed to concentrate on keeping my
hands held high in a mildly uncomfortable position to keep from
pulling my neck back and making it hard to breathe.

After Mandy placed my coat over my shoulders she turned me around
and stared into my eyes. “Let the games begin,” she chuckled. I
could only stare with my eyes wide open. I was helpless to do much
more.

Mandy took great care settling me into the car’s passenger seat,
making sure I was comfortable and buckled up. “Spread your legs,”
Mandy commanded. I just stared. “Now,” she said in a much more
menacing voice. I complied and Mandy took something from her purse
that looked like an overgrown horse pill about the size of a man’s
thumb with a three inch wire attached to one end. “It’s a Silver
Bullet,” offered Mandy. “It will definitely get your attention.”

She pulled my thong aside and slowly slipped the device into my
already wet pussy leaving only the wire left exposed and then
snapped the skimpy panties shut. I don’t know what surprised me
more. Was it the snap of the thong against my pussy lips or the
fact that the damn thing had slid in so easily? I quickly began to
realise that this whole affair with the cuffs, the collar, the slow
burn coming from my nipples and now the intruder in my pussy was
already making me extremely hot and wet.

The ride to the restaurant was long and very eventful. Every bump,
pothole and stoplight gave me a new sensation I had never felt
before. It was like my entire body was one giant nerve ending and
the car seat was a huge antenna attracting impulses from every
corner of the city. I was actually disappointed when we pulled into
the parking lot. My next shock was when Mandy turned toward Valet
parking. “No No No!” I tried to scream through the gag, but it came
out as, “Mhpmhpmhp.”

I hadn’t signed up for this. There was no way I wanted to be seen
like this and embarrassed in front of some pimply faced teenager.
The bondage under the coat was okay but the gag was shining out
like a beacon that scream “Hey come look at me!” Mandy must have
sensed my fear and at the last minute turned to drive into the self
parking lot.

After stopping the car and killing the engine Mandy leaned over and
removed my ballgag. The words came pouring out behind a river of
saliva. “Don’t you EVER do that again!” I screamed. “I might be
okay with the fun and games but THAT was going too far. You try
anything like that again and the game is OVER you hear?!”

Mandy shrunk down in her seat like a cowering little girl. If you
hadn’t known that I was chained and handcuffed under the coat,
watching the scene play out you would swear that Mandy was the one
in bondage being punished.

Whatever games we played from that moment on it was now clear that
I was definitely in charge.

Once again Mandy carefully helped me from my seat and we walked up
the parking lot to the front door. Neither of us said a word. Maybe
it was the quickness of my pace, maybe it was the effect of the
anger on my blood pressure but for a few minutes I completely
forgot that, beneath the coat I was handcuffed and chained or that
I had an intruder shoved deep inside my pussy.

It only took a few steps to bring that fact back to the forefront
of my mind. The heat building within my pussy began to climb. Sweat
beaded my forehead. Each step began to shoot white hot sensations
into my legs turning them into rubber. “Oh God just let me reach
the front door,” I thought. “Coconut,” I thought. “I have to
concentrate on something unpleasant; something I hate to keep
myself from going into an orgasm right here in the parking lot in
front of all these people.”

Mercifully I made it, all thanks to the memory of the day that
coconut candy bar had made me sick as a little girl.

Once inside, Mandy abandoned me to check on our reservation with
the hostess. Another hostess approached and asked me if I wanted to
have my coat checked. I shot a laser gaze at the poor girl’s hand,
hitting it just short of the coat’s shoulder. It didn’t stop her
from grasping the empty sleeve of the coat. As the girl squeezed
the sleeve she realised it was empty. Her hand went up the outside
of the sleeve to my shoulder. She then took a long look at my other
sleeve and leaned back to size up what she had discovered. The girl
then released her grasp, looked me straight in the eye and gave me
a wink before saying “Hope you are having fun under there.” She
then turned to check out the rear view of Mandy at the desk and
slinked away.

Soon after, Mandy returned and we were both escorted to the table.
I wasn’t finding manoeuvring in my present position that difficult.
I even managed to slide into the booth quite skillfully without
using my hands. I was thankful to get off my feet though. The
constant action of the bullet rubbing inside of me was taking its
toll. Between that and the friction of my coat’s inside lining
rubbing on my tender, hardened nipples (which felt like sandpaper
against them by now) was making me so wet that if I weren’t wearing
a thong the bullet would have already slipped out for sure.

Dinner and drinks were an interesting challenge. Mandy was very
attentive. The waiter was very discrete and never asked why I kept
my coat on. I found it was actually fun having Mandy wait on me,
feed me and tend to my subtle needs. Dinner was great and the wine
gave me a warm glowing feeling. “Not bad,” I thought, “I could
stand this for hours.”

“Ok,” said Mandy, “Now fun time is over, time to go to work.”

“Huh?” was all I could manage. Then Mandy pulled the BT1000 manual
out of her purse and set it in front of me. “You think having my
arms tied and pouring a couple of glasses of wine down me is going
to make me lose this challenge?” I asked. “So what if I succeed,
what’s my prize?” Mandy had no answer. “Ok here’s the deal,” I
continued. “If I pass the test YOU have to go home and spend the
rest of the weekend like I am now.”

Mandy just smiled. “No problem,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s shake
on it.” Mandy extended her hand; I just stared at her with steely
eyes. After a very uncomfortable moment Mandy retracted her hand
and placed the manual down in front of me. “Time for the contest to
begin,” she said. “Start here with Chapter Three, technical specs.”
I looked down at the pages for a moment and then at Mandy.

“How am I supposed to see anything in this dimly lit corner booth?”
I asked.

“Oh I almost forgot,” said Mandy as she reached in her purse and
produced a penlight, reached over and put its butt end against my
lips. “Open wide,” she said. I just gave her a disgruntled look but
figured I couldn’t be humiliated any more than I had been already?
I opened my lips and took the small flashlight between my teeth. It
did a fine job of lighting up the page before me. It also shone
like a spotlight announcing to the rest of the room that something
very strange was going on here. I quickly began to read the
detailed specs in front of me. The quicker I got through this, the
less embarrassment I would have to endure.

That was when Mandy revealed her secret weapon.

Suddenly and without warning my pussy was on fire. I literally
jumped up off the seat. My teeth bit down hard on the metal
flashlight nearly chipping a tooth. The bullet within my pussy had
roared to life with a vengeance. It had a life and purpose of its
own and that was to drive me insane. Very rapidly I began sweating.
My cheeks began to grind into the seat. I squeezed my thighs
together in a vain attempt to smother the little invader. My
imprisoned arms tried to claw at my side trying to get to my pussy,
to get to that bullet, to get it out. “What, no I didn’t want it
out, I needed it. I needed it bad.” My heartbeat was racing. I
could hear the blood pumping in my ears. My entire body began to
tingle like someone was pouring hot melted chocolate over every
inch of my bare skin. This was it. I was reaching the top. I was
quickly reaching the crest of a shattering orgasm…

And then it stopped.

My eyes burst open and in front of my face was Mandy’s hand holding
the bullet’s remote control. Mandy just smiled and stared into my
sweat-drenched face and said, “I never bet the house unless I am
holding all of the aces.”

Five times Mandy drove me to the edge with that damn bullet. Five
times Mandy shut it off at the last moment and let me cool down.
Every time that happened I would begin reading another paragraph of
the technical manual and Mandy would turn the merciless pussy
invader back on. Five times it brought me to the edge but no
further. Five times my well honed concentration skills tried to
bring my frazzled mind back into focus.

Finally I gasped “I’m finished with the section. Test me now!” It
was a good thing, I thought because I honestly didn’t think I could
hold out for another battle with the bullet. Mandy had three
questions prepared that she was confident would stump me,
especially in my exhausted state. After Mandy had read each of them
to me she just sat there and stared confidently into my eyes. A
look of horror soon took over her face as she saw an answering
smile slowly emerging on my lips. Mandy had seriously
underestimated my concentration and my photographic memory.

<End>
-----

[[Stories|Back to the story archive]]

[[Category:Bad Kitty]]
[[Category:Stories]]
[[Category:Built]]