Claimed by the Machine by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

The girl Sala’s mouth felt so much better than the artificial backside in the stimulation chamber that Alpha gave a groan of pleasure and held himself in for a very long time. She struggled a little, whimpering around his cock, but he could tell he wouldn’t harm her, that she had experience, and most important that it aroused her greatly to be made to suck.

To his right and left he watched Beta and Gamma having their own cocks sucked, and the sight pleased him greatly. He still found the role of his body’s vision in its arousal cycle unusual and intensely interesting, not to mention highly pleasurable. Alpha returned his eyes to the sight of his own girl, Sala, with her mouth full of his reproductive organ and her eyes cast submissively down to his lap. The very impression of her sexual service in his eyes, those still unfamiliar things, seemed to make his cock leap down below, and he held her head in both hands so that he could enjoy her mouth to the fullest, pumping in and out just as he pleased.

Wet sounds of similar enjoyment came from either side. Beta and Gamma were fucking their girls’ mouths the same way. The tiny Alpine girl, Grela, seemed to struggle with Beta’s penis more than the others, but Beta made her take him nearly all the way to his scrotum anyway. Gamma moved in and out of June’s dark face faster than either of his brothers, but June seemed as experienced as Sala, and clearly provided the huge blue cock with much pleasure.

Alpha looked up to see the remaining three girls, the pairs with the three who had to have the penises in their mouths, still in the bottom-offering posture they had occupied for several minutes now. That made him remember about the powerful effect Sala’s punished backside had had on him, and to his delight he found he could bend a little as he enjoyed her, to see those welts that indicated the director had corrected her with his crop. That visual stimulation, too, made his cock seem to grow even harder, and he groaned aloud with the pleasure of the chastised head girl’s service.

To his right, Grela’s mouth called from Beta his greatest flight of eloquence to date: “Very good. Very good girl.” Alpha looked over and saw that Grela had ventured to put her hand up to hold Beta’s scrotum—his balls—very gently. So pleasurable did Beta find it, it seemed, that he pulled his cock out of her mouth and said, “Kiss there.” He lifted his cock up and thrust his hips forward a bit, to show his girl exactly what he meant, but it seemed to Alpha she knew very well. Grela planted a tiny kiss on Beta’s balls, and then she licked them. Beta gave a grunt of pleasure.

Then the director spoke, a little to Alpha’s surprise. “You see that the girls are all trained to have their faces properly fucked,” he said in a highly satisfied tone, “but as Mr. Beta has just discovered, their skills at fellatio are much more highly developed than that. They can use their hands and tongues to give you pleasures I imagine you have never felt.”

Alpha’s eyes widened. He looked back down at Sala, discovering again the sight of her pretty face with a big cock thrusting in and out, enjoying the degradation that took away the girl’s power of speech in order to put her mouth to a better purpose. Alpha had begun to get used to letting such thoughts simply rise from his nervous system into his mind: they were the body thoughts, the DNA thoughts, of this human form, and if he wanted to understand sex-intertwined-with-power, he had to think them, and to feel the pleasures attendant upon them.

He released Sala’s head, but left his cock in her mouth. “Look up,” he said, and now he got the intense pleasure of that obedience, of her meeting his gaze with her mouth full of his penis. As it should be, thought the dominant DNA. “You will do as your director says.”

She couldn’t respond except by widening her eyes, but Alpha thought he could see her full acquiescence. It stood to reason that the girls would like to use their hands and tongues more than they liked to have their faces fucked: they could cause climax more quickly and effectively, and they must also feel pride in their accomplishments. The desire to dominate vied suddenly with a completely new feeling—though Alpha thought that feeling had risen from ground broken with the smile he and Sala had shared, and then with the terribly moving sight of her punished bottom.

He pulled his cock from her mouth. Her eyes remained fixed on his. Softly she spoke, then, astonishing him. “May I touch your cock, sir?” she asked meekly.

The power of this question and what it expressed in her desire to please him, made him smile again. Affection: this new feeling. He liked Sala. He had no less a need to bend her to his well and make her serve his DNA lusts, but he also found he didn’t want to do it at the expense of her happiness. Now, her request—her wish—to please him sexually and make his penis feel good struck him with a force of arousal different but just as strong as degrading her with the face-fucking had.

“Yes,” he said, and then as she put out her hands to stroke his hard length, he realized that with his own hands free, he could bend down a little more and touch her pretty bottom with the crop’s marks across it.

“Shall I pull down those panties for you?” the director asked. Alpha looked up to see him observing the aliens’ pleasures very closely, clearly wishing to be sure his guests enjoyed themselves as much as possible. “Sala responds very well to fondling while she serves.”

“Yes,” Alpha said, and he watched with pleasure as the director stooped to draw down the lacy green underwear to the middle of Sala’s thighs. She gave a little whimper as she kissed Alpha’s balls, still skillfully stroking his huge penis with both hands. Alpha realized that he would soon climax. He held the girl’s bare bottom in his hand and he did fondle it, remembering that he would soon have the duty to fulfill his promise and spank her, the act his cultural memory told him represented a kind of family discipline that went back to the origins of Earth civilization. With his two middle fingers he probed further between her thighs, all the way to the place where he knew so much of a human female’s pleasure was gathered. Sala rewarded him with a little cry, and took the tip of his cock in her mouth, running her tongue gently and deliciously around it.

To his left, Gamma, too had pulled his cock out, and June asked the same question, “May I touch your cock, sir?”

Gamma’s “Yes” in response sounded very enthusiastic indeed.

The director spoke again. “May I have the other girls display their pussies, friends? It’s enjoyable to see what you have to look forward to, is it not?”

Alpha looked up from Sala’s bottom, on fire now to see three pussies all in a row while his cock was served by the head girl, the one he now had begun, he realized, to consider his own.

He nodded, since he didn’t trust his voice, so great was the pleasure Sala gave now.

“Turn around and panties down, girls,” said the director, and the girls obeyed. The other blond one and the redheaded one blushed as they had to expose the bare little clefts between their thighs, tugging the lacy panties down and then straightening up to put their hands at their sides.

“We remove the hair from the cunts, as you see,” the director said. “Our girls aren’t allowed to hide anything, when you decide their panties should come down.”

Now, of course, Alpha very much wanted to see what Sala looked like between her legs. The thought brought him so close to orgasm that a tremor went through his hips. Clearly knowing her duty, Sala enclosed the tip of his penis again between her lips, and stroked more rapidly with her right hand while her left hand gently fondled his scrotum. The sight and the feeling combined to send Alpha into climax, and he jerked his hips, letting the seed spurt copiously, in jet after jet, into Sala’s mouth, where she swallowed his reproductive essence very obediently and pleasingly, still stimulating him as if she greedily wanted everything her master could give.

He saw Beta’s gaze fixed on the pussies of the other girls, clearly seduced by the charming sight of young women uncovered and made to show the place where a big cock must go. The slight differences among the cunts fascinated Alpha: he knew of course that along with the broad variations of phenotype came in every species an infinite number of smaller variations, but he had again not anticipated the effect it would have on the extraordinarily potent arousal cycle of this human body.

His penis had entered the refractory stage, but he still felt a good deal of interest in the way the blond girl’s inner lips peeped out, giving a preview she could not help, while the redhead’s remained demurely hidden. The Mediterranean girl’s clitoris showed a tiny bit as well. He felt nearly desperate now to see how Sala’s vagina compared.

Beta gave a shout, and Grela now was the one who had to swallow semen. June’s turn came only a moment later. Both girls did just as well as Sala at swallowing every drop of sperm, though a very little bit of Beta’s white emission got on Grela’s pale lips; she licked it up, smiling.

Looking down, he found Sala still suckling his penis very gently and respectfully. “All the pussies in a line, now,” he said.

“Ah, an excellent idea,” said the director. “Get up, girls, and join your roommates. If I may, Mr. Alpha, I’ll have them hold hands as it’s so charming. Honored friends, the names of the girls you have not yet met are Hera, Ava, and Fredera.” He touched the bottom of each girl with his crop as he named her.

Sala’s vagina was very neat and tidy, and that pleased Alpha: she kept her pink secrets completely hidden in her pale outer lips, and only a sweet little cleft remained visible when she stood with her knees together. As she stood with her eyes cast down, holding hands with Ava on one side and Hera on the other, a blush crept over her face, as if she knew how intently Alpha regarded her pussy, and how the thoughts of enjoying her there filled his mind.

“The girls are trained to have sex with one another, of course,” said the director. “Some guests like to command that, others to forbid it. The choice is yours.” He paused, surveying the scene. Cultural memory told Alpha to close and belt his robe, hiding his already again semi-tumescent cock. Beta and Gamma did the same when they saw him. The director, taking note, said, “May I show you to your suite, then? I feel sure you’ll want to explore your girls’ possibilities in private as soon as you can.”

The way the nobleman said private intrigued Alpha. Though his arousal cycle had begun again, his brain also had cleared itself of some of the reproductive urge brought on by the body’s hormones, and he could tell that the director felt a good deal of doubt about whether the word private might mean to his alien guests who appeared in human guise the same thing it meant to a peer of Magisteria. The advantage of Seventeen’s breakouts knowing a great deal more than their human contacts loomed large.

“Yes,” Alpha said, and then he tried his longest word yet. “Definitely. Privacy, please.”

He smiled at the director, but he could tell that the director didn’t know how to take the facial expression: it seemed he didn’t expect normal human responses from his visitors. The improvised ceremony of taking their pleasure in the girls’ mouth there in the lobby, enforced on Alpha really by the extremity of the desire Sala had caused, seemed to have played to the aliens’ advantage. If the director had felt puzzled before, now he must feel positively uneasy. That would make the next few days of research very interesting indeed.

In the enormous royal suite, where the director had of course booked the blue men, Sala fetched the menu and gave it to Mr. Alpha.

“Do you read, sir?” she asked, keeping her eyes always on his huge, bare feet.

“I do,” Mr. Alpha replied, and took the heavy leather-bound binder from her hands. Like everything in the Guesthouse, it gave an air of old-fashioned—even ancient—luxury that one could practically smell. Did blue alien synthetic humans understand that at all, Sala suddenly wondered?

How did she understand it? Because of her education, she supposed. Brought up at a facility for the raising of submissive concubines, many lightyears from Earth, how could she have learned that a leather-bound book meant that the owner of the book should be treated with deference? Only through her culture classes, and then the experience here that confirmed them, as the men and women who used the old things—for even though articles like the menu were manufactured anew every day they were given the air of antiquity—exercised unquestionable dominance over Sala and her fellow concubines.

The arrival of Mr. Alpha and his companions seemed to have stirred curious thoughts in her that had long swirled beneath the surface of her day-to-day life under the careful rule of the director and, through him, the faraway Magisterian court. Sala loved her life here at the Guesthouse, but she felt the pull of something more, of the need to do something more: now the powers had put her in this position, it seemed, of being first to become intimate with a species who had taken on the form of dominant human men.

The director wanted her and the other girls to pretend that Alpha, Beta, and Gamma had come only to whip and to fuck, but Sala simply knew that the director had lied about what the Magisterian court and the Galactic Federation thought. If he hadn’t lied, then he and whoever in the court or the federation council had granted the aliens’ request for a stay at the Guesthouse with the treatment reserved for the most elite guests—the royal suite, two girls for each guest, a virgin to deflower—didn’t understand what Sala could feel simply in the way Mr. Alpha touched her. He didn’t only want to enjoy Sala: he wanted to learn what it meant to enjoy her.

All these thoughts passed in a flash through Sala’s mind as Mr. Alpha took possession of the menu, and they made her shiver. She wondered if he noticed. Something told her he noticed everything, despite the ponderous way he spoke.

“This is the menu,” she said, as she had said to so many other guests on their arrival in their accommodations. “You may choose everything about your stay from it, especially the things that concern how you enjoy us. At the back is a section with pictures and vids of all the Guesthouse girls, and our reviews from previous guests. Because you and Mr. Beta and Mr. Gamma are in the royal suite, you may choose to exchange as many of us as you like.”

For the most part the director together with his administrator and Sala herself chose girls for the guests, based on a questionnaire if it was the guest’s first stay. To let every guest exchange would have meant chaos—even having the number of exchanges they did, Sala knew from arranging the duty roster, provided for many a headache.

Sala took pride in the fact she had never been exchanged, though her reviews in the menu made her blush fiercely, and of course Mr. Alpha had turned there out of understandable curiosity. As head girl she had to maintain the database that fed the intelligent pages of the menu and keep it updated, so she knew the reviews practically by heart, having chosen them according to the requirements of the director, who maintained that one critical review had to be included for every girl, if she had one.

Sala only had one, but of course that meant it had to go onto her page in the menu. It was such an unfair review, too. She had tried so hard for the Vionian ambassador, but he had just been in a foul mood because of the peace terms forced on him, and he had taken it out on her and then left the review that every dominant who stayed at the Guesthouse now could read—and nearly all of them did, the director’s analytics showed, since the menu was designed with maximum salaciousness for the purpose of encouraging repeat business.

Now, to her horror, Mr. Alpha started to read the first review on Sala’s page out loud.

“I had the great honor of taking Sala’s maidenheads last night,” he began in that voice that seemed to rumble out of his taut abdomen.

Sala, her mind searching for a way to distract itself, became conscious again of what else now went on in the royal suite: Mr. Beta had sat in one of the big leather armchairs, and Grela knelt at his feet, suckling his cock, while Fredera, also kneeling, kissed his balls. Mr. Beta had his eyes closed, as if he could hardly bear the pleasure. June, Hera, and Mr. Gamma seemed to have disappeared into one of the three bedchambers: the sounds coming from there indicated, Sala guessed, that Hera and June had been told to lie head-to-tail and to pleasure one another.

Ava had taken up her own kneeling position, the standard posture for the junior in a pair of Guesthouse girls when delivered to their master, while the senior saw to the immediate needs of the guest. Sala wondered fleetingly whether her roommate’s wish for fucking with an enormous cock remained quite as strong as it had been, now that the prospect had literally loomed before her. She had felt a good deal of pride in how she could take Mr. Alpha’s manhood so far down her throat, and continue to breathe as he left himself engulfed there, but she couldn’t help fearing for her pussy and especially her anus.

Of course, that fear mingled with the submissive desire she knew so well: as a Guesthouse girl, Sala was allowed to refuse no sexual act on the list to be found in the front of the menu Mr. Alpha held—nor did she want to refuse any. Guesthouse girls were the best submissives in the galaxy, and since her own defloration by King Aric himself five years before, right here in the royal suite, Sala had taken pride in that tradition.

She had tried to make her wind wander, but of course it had ended up right back on the night described in that first review, which always made her blush even as it made her feel proud. King Aric slept with many of the new Guesthouse girls, exercising a sort of fourth millennium droit de seigneur, and he took pride in always writing full, polite reviews. His review of Sala, however, had a kind of praise he rarely employed.

Five Stars. She bore her vaginal defloration with fortitude and then was quiet under the cock as I rode in and out of her cunt, until I allowed her to touch herself. She showed all the proper gratitude, and moved very excitingly as I continued the fuck, so that I came there though I had intended to finish in her anus. I had her clean her maiden blood off my penis with a basin and towel, which she did very sweetly, blushing so prettily that I had to raise her up to kiss her upon the mouth before I pushed her head downward to suck my now clean manhood.

Sala’s mouth is very well behaved for a new girl, and I recommend it highly as a place to fuck. She may not yet have acquired the skill with the scrotum that I am sure she will have very soon, but hold her head still and thrust away, and you will not be disappointed. Her bottom, when I turned her over, was exquisitely tight, and she opened it sweetly. Again, as with her cunt, I had intended to last a long time, but found that Sala’s extreme responsiveness and submissive conduct caused me to climax in her virginal anus quite quickly—no mean feat for a girl serving a man like me.

By order of the director, the Vionian ambassador’s review came next. Sala’s face got hot as Mr. Alpha read the words.

One Star. Not up to Guesthouse standards. Had to thrash her thoroughly for looking me in the eye. Came in the mouth, mostly, which is reasonably well trained. Fucked the bottom over the block after I whipped it. She screamed too loud, but I came pretty hard. Wish I could give her less than one star.

Next to the reviews was Sala’s picture, which showed her standing, smiling into the camera, with her panties down around her knees. She thought it actually quite fetching, and it seemed to capture the essence of her version of happy submission, almost as if she were saying to the observer, This is my pussy, and I hope you like it. I’d like to make your cock feel good inside it. She didn’t like the vid that played under it when the reader touched the still frame, which Mr. Alpha did now. As soon as he did, Sala’s soft moans emanated from the menu’s speaker. Though she thankfully couldn’t see the menu because Mr. Alpha’s height meant that he held it almost above her head, she knew that he saw her masturbating on command after a caning from the director, bowed over her bed with her knees bent and spread to display the shameful work of her fingers.

The caption displayed on Sala’s vid read, Even good girls are naughty sometimes. Sala got caught reading when she should have been helping in the dining room. Look how her caning made her even naughtier. She didn’t even mind having been recorded playing with herself as much as she minded that the caption told the truth: Sala had forgotten about her dining-room shift, and had received a severe punishment for it. Then, however, the director had given her permission to masturbate! It seemed so unjust to have the vid in the menu imply otherwise so strongly.

Mr. Alpha, who seemed to enjoy reading out loud—Sala noted somewhat to her surprise that none of his slowness of speech applied to his reading—read even that embarrassing caption. “Look how her caning made her even naughtier,” he finished.

Sala couldn’t suppress a tiny whimper at that. Usually she loved the way shame and blushes led to warmth between her thighs, especially if she had recently received a whipping—as she had in the vid, of course, and as she had now. At the moment, however, it seemed an almost annoying distraction from the fascinating task of getting to know Mr. Alpha. Still, she felt herself once again start to flow into her lacy panties at hearing the degrading words about her read aloud in that deep, commanding voice.

She wondered if her page in the menu had gotten him hard, and in fact she didn’t need to wait long to discover the answer. He had turned to the front of the book and seemed rapidly to scan the options.

“Side-by-side self-pleasure,” he announced abruptly. “Sala and Ava, on the couch.” Then, obviously reading one of the bulleted options underneath the menu entry, “A dildo, too, please. Just one, to share.”

Sala felt her cheeks get even hotter. She didn’t like playing with dildos—it seemed so beside the point, when she had permission to masturbate, to use anything but the time-honored form of vibrator that Guesthouse girls only got to use on themselves as a very special reward. If she couldn’t use a magic wand, the name that had stuck to the device for thousands of years now, or something similar, she only wanted her fingers. But of course her submission took over when a guest commanded that she use a dildo, and she knew she would put on what she couldn’t help thinking of as a very embarrassing show.