Experiment 239 Ch. 04

Anthony was noticing a difference in Sophie this week, a difference that made his heart pound and his emotions soar, that made looser pants a necessity with how often Little Tony was standing at attention. She was as sassy as always, but there was a certain... air about her. As if she was happy in a way that she'd never been before. As if she felt content and in her place. As if she was... submissive.

He almost couldn't believe his luck. He knew she could've called an end to the bet at any time she'd wanted, but she hadn't. In fact, today she'd even shown up exactly as instructed - with no panties (her skirt had been so tight that a pantyline would have been obvious), and light tweezer clamps on her nipples beneath her bra. He'd allowed her the bra, of course. It wouldn't quite do for the rest of the facility to see the nipple clamps, which would surely happen with the shirt he'd chosen for her.

He had a leather corset and choker planned for tomorrow, and perhaps a tiny buttplug.

He wondered how far he could push her, how far she would give in to him despite her rather vocal protests. Could he make her orgasm in the office? Could he get her to try out the blowjob trainer, if he omitted the nipple torture and the armbinder? Could he get her to suck HIS cock instead of a lifeless one?

Little Tony seemed to like that thought.

Anthony had always disapproved of the new Director's goals for the facility. For one thing, the number of slaves in training had been doubled by adding an equal number of droids to real women. Sure, the droids were perfect - both in body and in their submission - but they lacked the raw emotions and sensuality that he believed was necessary in a slave. He derived no satisfaction from ordering robots around.

And all of the real women, with the sole exception of Number 239, had had a complete memory wipe before they had learning programs uploaded to them in the simulation. They retained zero sense of self. Everything they knew and believed and thought was what was fed to them via the computer.

Granted, every woman in the facility had signed up for the entire thing before the wipe was done - signed dozens of consent forms in fact. The laboratory couldn't have risked the legal repercussions otherwise. But what was the fun in the soulless beings that they had become? He wanted to watch a slave squirm and plead and blush and cry. Mindless obedience was akin to a Fleshlight, he thought. Gets really boring after a while and does nothing to excite his senses.

But that was Mason's goal. He had a slave who followed him around - Karen - and she was as mindless as any of the droids or soulless women in their simulations, in Anthony's humble opinion. In fact, he couldn't even be sure she was truly human. Oh, she probably was - their droids were heavily patented and the first of their kind, and their slave training programme had not yet produced a graduating batch. It simply hadn't been running for long enough.

But, regardless of whether she was human or droid, Karen was just about as attractive to him as a bar of soap. Sharp-tongued Sophie, on the other hand...

Speaking of the devil. A notification popped up on his screen, stating, "The Director wishes to see you in his office at noon." Anthony glanced at the time on his display - it was 11.45. Mason certainly wasn't one to give advanced notice, he noted with annoyance.

He was outside the Director's office at 11.55, regardless. He'd been inside only a few times throughout the entire 6 months that Mason had held the post. Not that he missed it - the office, under Mason's reign, was extremely minimalistic, to the point of appearing almost like the white sterile rooms of the slave training simulation. The previous Director had had much better taste, he mused.

"Come in," came the baritone reply to his light knock.

Anthony's gaze was immediately transfixed on the spectacle before him. In the centre of the room, a few feet in front of Mason's simple white desk, was Karen. She was completely naked and lying on what looked like a low, flat table. Her body was pulled back in an almost impossible arch in the tightest, most unforgiving hogtie he had ever seen. Elbows tied together, ankles attached right next to her bound wrists. Her jet black hair was tied into a braid, which was also attached to her ankles. Under the porcelain skin, her muscles strained with the exhausting task of holding her body up in a bow shape.

That wasn't all. She was surrounded by a fucking machine that pumped large black dildos into her mouth and pussy. Her breasts, lifted almost completely off the table by the position that the strenuous hogtie imposed upon her, had clover clamps on the nipples. The chain of the clamps was pulled hard and attached to a point on the floor - it quivered with each stroke of the machines.

"Well, stop gawping and close the door, will you?" Mason directed, raising an eyebrow at Anthony.

Anthony did as he was told, and then resumed staring at Karen.

"What do you see, Tony?"

"A slut being fucked," Anthony answered, too stunned to be anything but honest.

"What else? Look closer."

Anthony took a few steps forward. He could now see that Karen was almost gagging with each stroke of the dildos - it must be pushing deep into her mouth. Sweat trickled down her brow, and her large brown eyes were wet with tears. Drool dripped constantly from her painted lips, pooling in a small puddle on the table. She must have been here for a while. Inexplicably, he noticed that she wasn't merely being face-fucked - she was sucking on the dildo with each stroke, using her lips to buffer it from her teeth as she might have done in an actual blowjob. Why bother? he wondered.

Something had been shoved into her ass. Its large, bulbous purple end stuck out of it, attached to a wire.

"Demonstrate for him, will you, Karen?" Mason directed.

With a soft whimper, Karen assented, and let her teeth graze the fake cock in her mouth. There was a clicking sound, and almost immediately, her whimper escalated to an agonized scream. She thrashed and bucked in her bonds, gasping and screaming and pleading, as a light turned on in the switch attached to the buttplug wire.

"Jesus Christ, Mason," Anthony murmured, shaking his head. He felt his cock grow, pushing against the front of his pants. Fuck, not here, I ain't getting a boner in Mason's fucking office...

After 10 seconds or so, the light switched off, and the girl slumped in relief, sobbing quietly. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

"What else do you see, Tony?" Mason persisted.

"For chrissakes, Mason. Do we really have to do this?" But Anthony walked closer. He couldn't help it. He finally stopped when he was right next to the quivering mess of girlflesh, and then he saw it.

There was a remote control in Karen's hand, attached to the palm of her hand by tape, so that it would always be within her reach.

Stunned, Anthony glanced up at Mason. "She can control it?"

Mason nodded. "Yes. She can turn the entire contraption off anytime she wants. I told her that there would be no punishment for doing so, and I would release her once she does that."

Anthony blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "How long has she been here?"

Mason shrugged. "Since we arrived at the office today morning."

It was noon.

"But... why?? Are you sure there wasn't a catch?"

Mason's piercing grey eyes caught Anthony's. "Because I told her that it would please me if she stayed in it until lunch."

Anthony lowered his gaze, and it fell again on Karen. She was still sobbing from the intense pain that the jolt of electricity through her buttplug must have produced. Her jaw, her pussy, her nipples - heck, her entire body must be aching, pleading to be out of this predicament. And yet she continued sucking dutifully at the fake cock ploughing her mouth. And yet the remote control in her hand remained untouched.

Mason leaned back in his chair. "You see, Tony," he intoned. "This is what our clients want. This is what our investors are paying us millions for. They want real slaves. They want girls whose one and only objective is to please their Master. They want slaves who will push themselves to do anything and everything their Master asks of them, until their body fails them.

"What they AREN'T paying us for, is for a girl that serves whenever she fancies, that plays 'submission' games whenever it gives her sexual pleasure. There's a term for those, and they don't need years of single-minded simulation and millions of dollars to produce. They're called 'girlfriends'."

Anthony could feel his blood boiling in anger. "Mason, you told me you'd give Experiment 239 a real chance."

Mason nodded. "And so I did."

"Are you retracting that?"

"No. I merely wanted to show you what the goal was."

Anthony folded his arms over his chest. "I am aware that Number 239 needs to pass the graduation test in order for the experiment to be considered a success, yes."

"Do you think she will?"

"Her training will take longer than most. But she will."

Mason chuckled over the mechanical sounds of the pumping dildos. "Good."

***

Sophie was finding it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on her work. It seemed as if everything first needed to be processed through a persistent haze of arousal and lust - and most things weren't getting through it too well.

The past few nights, she had given in to that haze with complete abandon. Lying alone in her bed with the luxurious silk covers draped around her, she had rubbed herself into ecstasy, again and again. If only she'd had a remote that worked for the butterfly vibrator...

Curiosity dragged her to an online store, where she found an unbelievable number of things that piqued her interest and made the warmth between her thighs grow. In a moment of lust-driven weakness, she purchased several of them; when she was basking in the afterglow of orgasm later, temporarily reprieved from the haze of arousal, she wondered, "What am I doing? What in fuck's name am I even going to do with all of those?"

When the package arrived via express delivery the next evening, however, that question simply answered itself. Gagged, clamped, collared, holding a sleek bullet vibrator in her hand and writhing with the strangest mixture of pain and excitement, she brought herself to a series of climaxes that exceeded any pleasure she'd ever known.

She could never bring herself to admit it to Anthony, but she was rather sad that the week was ending.

It was her final day of the bet, and Anthony had really pulled out all the stops this time. Six-inch stiletto pumps with straps around the ankles, sheer stockings with backseams. The shortest, tightest skirt she had ever worn, with slits up the sides tantalizingly displaying a hint of upper thigh and garter strap. No panties. Ben-wa balls in her vagina, a medium-sized buttplug constantly asserting its presence in her butt. An overbust leather corset cinched her waist, pushing her breasts up and out. Little alligator clamps on said breasts. A black choker that just barely qualified as "not a collar". And the butterfly... of course.

Sophie of only a week ago would have tossed that package in the trash. Sophie of today was too damn horny to care what anyone thought about her.

It was 6pm, and the office had rapidly cleared of people. James had left at 5pm sharp - he was extremely excited by the rare prospect of a date that evening. Sophie and Anthony sat in Experiment 239's control room, watching people pass by the door on their way out.

"So, how has your week been?" Anthony asked in a conversational tone. He'd done his best to maintain a casual demeanour, but Sophie knew that his eyes had never left her since James had vacated the room.

A dozen responses flickered through Sophie's mind: "Fuck you." "Terrible. Aren't we glad it's ending soon?" "Not particularly great, how about yours?"

The response that slipped from her tongue, however, was the unfiltered truth, "Absolutely crazy."

Anthony laughed good-naturedly. "I can tell. There's wetness running down your left leg."

Sophie glanced down - he wasn't lying. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she made to rise from her chair, but Anthony placed a hand lightly on hers. "Sophie."

Heart beating at a ridiculous rate, she paused, looking up at him. Their eyes locked, his beautiful piercing blue eyes fixed on hers, and she felt another burst of warmth ignite her nether regions. "W-what?"

His response completely flummoxed her. "Would you like to go for dinner? There's a pretty good French bistro around the corner."

Sophie almost laughed. Almost. All of that preparation, all of those packages... to ask her out on a date? Oddly, she found a giddy sort of happiness coursing through her - when was the last time she'd ever felt anything like that? "Do I get to go home and change first?"

Anthony smiled the biggest, heartiest smile she'd ever seen, as if he was a little boy unwrapping a gigantic present on Christmas day. "No."

***
3 days later...

Anthony hummed to himself as he drove down the country road. It was deserted at this time of the night - he hadn't met another car for the past 10 minutes. A sappy love song was playing on the radio, and while he usually detested those songs, tonight they seemed as beautiful as everything else in the world was to him right now.

He glanced over at the tablet mounted just below the dashboard. It was displaying a live video feed of the most attractive woman in the world (or so he thought). Sophie's large green eyes stared straight into the camera, wide with an intoxicating mixture of fear and anticipation. Her red hair was a mess that she was unable to fix, curly locks tumbling over her face and shoulders.

He was really glad he'd invested in a camera with excellent night vision for the trunk of his car.

Sophie moaned, squirming in her bonds. She was lying on her side with her elbows and wrists bound and attached to her ankles in a hogtie, barely fitting into the little hatchback trunk. The skintight red dress that he'd instructed her to wear for dinner was riding up her thighs, displaying the tops of her stockings. She didn't have any panties on, and her juices were flowing freely down her legs, leaving a sticky residue between her thighs. The flared end of a buttplug peeped out of the bottom of the dress hem. The elbow bondage had forced her back into a most uncomfortable arch, pushing her breasts upwards and outwards. One breast had inadvertently popped out of the low dress neckline, and the nipple was stiff and swollen.

Her glossy red lips were spread wide with the largest ring gag he had been able to find on short notice. Stuffed between them was her panties - when she had given them to him, he'd noticed that they'd been soaked through. They must taste pretty good, he mused to himself. Transparent tape held the panties in without obstructing his view. And a glorious view it was. Anthony didn't think he'd ever been so hard in his life.

The best part of the entire thing was that Sophie had requested it. A kidnapping scene, she'd said. She didn't want to know the details.

The car went over a pothole and Sophie squealed. Oops. Anthony glanced at the video feed - she'd bounced around a bit, but she seemed mostly okay. The movement had jiggled the other breast free of the dress, which was a pleasant side effect.

So this is where Sophie lives. Anthony pulled into the driveway, marvelling at the estate house. Heck, it was almost a mansion. He fumbled within his pockets and finally found the key he'd taken from her. Whew. It would've been quite the scene killer to admit he'd lost her keys.

He slid the key into the keyhole of the large mahogany door, pulling it open to reveal a softly-lit interior within, then went to open the trunk. He knew there was no way his pants could possibly be hiding his arousal at that point, but he was beyond caring. "How did you enjoy the ride, dear? Sorry about the potholes," he teased her, grinning. Her chest heaved most enticingly as she shrieked garbled obscenities at him through the gag.

Anthony didn't respond verbally, but simply reached down and stroked a bare nipple. He marvelled at how her bra had ever contained them at all - they looked almost like erasers, swollen and engorged. Sophie's shrieks were punctuated with gasps as she tried unsuccessfully to pull away from his touch... and then soft moans, unable to contain the arousal that she wasn't quite willing to surrender completely to just yet.

Neither of them really knew how long they remained there, his hands slowly caressing every inch of her bound body in the sliver of light spilling from the doorway. At some point the obscenities ceased completely, morphing instead into garbled pleas of lust; her straining away from him turned into her trying to push her slick nether regions into something, anything, to ease the buildup that he had created.

But Anthony wasn't ready to give her that just yet. Not anywhere near ready. After all, the night was still young, even though the moon had risen high into the sky and a chill was beginning to settle on them.

Reaching over her, he loosened the rope binding her elbows and wrists to her ankles, giving her a few more inches of movement. Sophie let out a groan of relief as she stretched her strained muscles, finally able to relax her posture slightly.

"We're not done yet, baby. Don't get too relieved, now," he warned her, chuckling. He'd been doing some weights recently, and good thing, that, for he would never have been able to hoist her over his shoulder as easily as he did then otherwise. As he carried her into her own house, he took the opportunity to land a few firm swats on her right buttock, eliciting muffled squeals from her.

Anthony carried her through the front door, pausing for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. Wow. He stopped in the middle of the lounge, admiring it. It was tastefully and elegantly furnished, a leather sofa set surrounding a coffee table, with strategically-placed rugs and stands. He could get used to this place, for sure.

He lowered Sophie onto her knees on a sheepskin rug close to the fireplace. "Kneel," he instructed sternly, and she obediently tried, the rope between her wrists and ankles just long enough to allow her to rise on her knees. It was amazing how all that pent-up sexual frustration was now expressing itself in complete and utter submission, he noted, the polar opposite of the fiery vanilla personality. Yet again, he marveled at how he ever got so lucky.

Anthony pulled the tape off her mouth (gently - he didn't want any unintended damage!) and pulled the panties out but left the ring gag on. He slipped his tie off and blindfolded her with it., and then proceeded to simply make himself comfortable. He hung up his coat and took off his shoes, and made himself a cup of after-dinner coffee with her excellent Nespresso machine. And then fired up the hearth, and sat on the plush sofa, sipping his coffee as he watched her.

It was a wonderful sight to behold. With her vision obscured by his tie, Sophie didn't know where he was or whether he was looking at her. She was squirming and stewing in her juices, and a trickle was forming down the inside of her left thigh. Her hair was dishevelled from the ride, and both of her breasts were exposed, the nipples sticking straight out. Drool dripped down the corners of her mouth without the panties to soak it up.

He took his time, enjoying a long, leisurely night. After the evening cuppa, he went into the bedroom and found the parcel there, just as she said it would be. A few items were picked out and carried into the lounge for use. He attached clamps onto her nipples and admired how they gripped her swollen nubs, how she moaned through her gag when they went on. He slipped a vibrating dildo up her dripping pussy, turned it on to the lowest setting so it would keep her close but not bring her to orgasm, and then attached a weight to the end of the dildo and told her to hold it in. Then another dildo into her mouth, with the instruction to hold that in as well.