Her Cyborg Daddy by Katie Douglas – Extended Preview

“On the table, please, young lady,” he said as the door slid shut behind them.

Zanthia was filled with dread as she reluctantly climbed up and lay down on her back. She was naked, exposed, and on the medical table of a new lifeform. If the Interplanetary Alliance had managed to make teleportation devices work by now, she would be back in Nidia and hiding in her room until she was sure the AIs had found something new to torment. It didn’t reassure her to feel him pressing sensors to her temples and chest. The fear coursing through her body made her very aware that her nipples were still hard. When her clit throbbed, more shame turned her cheeks pink.

“Good girl. I intend to measure your responses to various forms of stimulation. I will need to tie you down so you don’t fall off. We don’t have any data on Nidians, of course, and it would be interesting to compare your responses to my own. I have comparable processes. Please, do not struggle.” He said it as if he were discussing the weather. Zanthia felt more disturbed when straps encircled her thighs, calves, and upper arms. Was she going to be allowed to return to Nidia to deliver her report? For the first time in her life, she wished she’d followed her mother’s advice and taken up flower arranging instead of diplomacy.

She tried to remember to breathe, and that reminded her of the air mixture. It didn’t make sense to ask her what type of gas she liked to breathe if he intended to do anything truly awful to her. She kept telling herself that over and over, as the straps tightened themselves and she tried her best to remain calm.

“First, I wish to test your heartrate, brain activity, and pupil dilation in response to certain words.” He flicked a switch. On edge, Zanthia jumped and strained against the straps, afraid of what he’d switched on. When she heard the steady beeps of a heartrate monitor, she relaxed a little.

Mark swiveled a light so it shone in her eyes, and Zanthia blinked. It wasn’t overly bright but it still felt intrusive. Despite her fear, or maybe because of it, the entire situation aroused her, and her breathing was a little shallow as she felt a slight wetness between her legs.

“I will begin. Just listen to the words, the machine will do the rest.” He didn’t speak for several seconds, and Zanthia wondered what he was going to say to her.

“Kiss.”

Zanthia heard no change to the heartrate monitor. She wasn’t surprised. Kissing had never really interested her. Usually it felt like filler while the guy figured out what to do next. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t be clumsy. At best, it was a waste of time and at worst it was a complete turn-off.

“Cuddle.”

Was it her imagination, or had the beeps gotten slightly faster? She remembered cuddles with her favorite stuffie, Edmond Bear, from her childhood. A pang of sadness reminded her that her father had given her toys to an orphanage when she was thirteen. He had taken Zanthia with him to the orphanage for the photo-op. The press and public loved the idea of the Emperor-Paramount’s right-hand man, a family man, mixing with the hoi polloi. He had showed the world his kind, fatherly side whilst stripping his only daughter of her favorite source of comfort.

She had plastered a big smile on her face because she knew it was expected, and she was angry with herself that she didn’t really feel happy. She felt completely devastated. The whole event made her feel like she was dying inside, suffocating under the weight of her life as her father’s daughter. Anyway, she had been glad that other children had the joy of squeezing a soft toy, but she still missed her bear. Later, she had learned how to switch on happiness for those sorts of situations. It was much easier and more convincing than trying to fake it. Beneath that, though, she would still give anything to see Edmond Bear again.

Big girls didn’t play with toys, she reminded herself, and neither did adults. Forcing the memory back into the corner of her mind, Zanthia tried to stay in the present. Her thoughts faded away and she emptied her mind in accordance with her training. Emotional control was expected of Nidian diplomats. All the while, Mark hadn’t said another word. Was he waiting for her heartrate to return to normal?

“Arouse.”

Breaking through the background noise of the heartrate monitor, Mark’s voice was sensual and filled with promise. For a cyborg, he sounded quite barbaric when he spoke the single word, and Zanthia imagined him commanding her in that same voice, giving her some order or other and forcing her to comply with only his words. The sound made Zanthia’s clit twitch, and her nipples felt slightly more sensitive. Why would he say that to her? It was the sort of word that couldn’t possibly be considered innocent in any context.

“Control.”

His voice mauled the word and turned it into something quite indecent. It didn’t help that it was one of the words she couldn’t say. It was loaded with too much meaning, the syllables were too ingrained inside her, along with memories of playing with rope when she was younger. The sounds from the machine seemed to be getting faster and Zanthia felt like she must be blushing. Mark didn’t wait long this time before he said the next word.

“Power.”

It was too much. Her breasts were heavy and swollen; her nipples were painfully erect, and they sent pulses of pleasure down to her clit. Her open slit was bared for him to see, and she hated that, because she knew it throbbed, slick with need. She took short, shallow breaths as she imagined the cyborg suspending her with rope, blindfolding her, then running his big, strong hands all over her body before spanking her thoroughly, while she was utterly helpless. The machine bleeped faster, and Zanthia thought the room had gotten warmer as she tried to shift on the table. The restraints stopped her. She was already under his power, and the thought drove her crazy.

“Pain.”

Now her button throbbed more hungrily, competing with her breasts for her attention. For some reason, her terror of electricity flashed across her thoughts, but instead of making her flinch, the idea added to how turned on she was. No. She didn’t want that. She would never want it. Conflicted between her arousal and fear of pain, tears welled up in her eyes. The bleeps continued to speed up. It wasn’t fair.

“Please, I don’t want to do this anymore,” she tried to plead with him. She didn’t want her secrets dragged out of her and laid bare by some machinery like this.

“Spanking.”

The machine went haywire. As Zanthia began to cry from the humiliation, she remembered learning to clear her search history when she was younger after she’d dared to look up ‘spanking’ in the online dictionary. Even thinking about it was too potent. Remembering the swats Mark had landed on her bottom earlier made her cry harder as her womb clenched and she fought to hide her true feelings.

“Cane.”

The faster beeps were the least of her problems, as she felt a wetness trickle out of her pussy. She had always been fascinated with the cane. It had been banned in schools by the time she reached middle school, but Zanthia had gone through a phase when she’d—completely innocently—asked every adult in her family about whether they’d been caned, what they’d done to necessitate it, what it had felt like, what the marks had looked like. Without being able to explain why, her mind had wrapped around the idea of the thin swishy stick and attempted to find out everything about it. She had eventually stopped asking people after being told by her stern father that it wasn’t appropriate.

When Zanthia got to college, caning was still used as a reasonable punishment for more serious transgressions. Her fascination had been rekindled after her best friend Alora had been called to the dean’s office one evening. Alora had returned with a very sore bottom, black tear tracks of mascara down her cheeks, and she had elected to sleep on her front that night.

Undeniably, Zanthia was drawn to the cane. From her conversations with other people, she knew she was in a minority, that there was something upside-down about being so taken with the cane, even as she feared it. Even on Minos Kerala, Zanthia was sure that a cane was seen as an implement for punishment and nothing more. Afraid of being found out as a dangerous deviant, Zanthia cried harder. Why had Mark chosen these words rather than any others? It wasn’t fair. She hoped he didn’t report back to Nidia about her disgraceful behavior, but more of her wanted him to call an end to this experiment, then turn her over and crisscross her bottom with burning welts.

“Your nipples have become quite pointy, and your pupils are dilated, showing you are very aroused. Why is there water leaking from your eyes?” Mark asked.

“It’s tears; I’m crying. You must know what crying is,” Zanthia tried to explain through her sniffles.

“My information indicates that crying is done when humanoids feel sad. You are at the height of arousal; all the feedback from your body proves it. Why would you be crying?”

“Because… because I don’t want people to know how I feel about certain things. It’s undignified.” Zanthia wondered how Princess Alora, the Emperor-Paramount’s daughter, would react if she knew her best friend felt like this about pain, spanking, and especially caning. Alora would likely never speak to her again if she found out.

“I have two more words to test. Are you ready?” Mark asked. After the last words, she didn’t think this could get any worse. Trying very hard to control her emotions and her throbbing clit, Zanthia nodded.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Context, please.” Zanthia couldn’t help herself.

“I want to fuck you.” Mark’s tone was inscrutable. Zanthia stifled a gasp as her wetness problem got worse, and she heard the heartrate monitor go nuts again. His words rang true, and she was in no doubt that he really did want to fuck her. On some level, she had known from the first moment she’d seen him. There was some sort of chemistry there, but how was that possible? He wasn’t even a real person. Her breathing grew shallower and she was glad she was lying down because she felt her legs becoming weak. She longed to feel him inside her.

As if he knew, he inserted two fingers into her pussy and she strained against the bindings. His fingers were surprisingly lifelike, but larger than average. He gently massaged the bundle of nerves at the front of her sheath and she couldn’t repress a moan of desire. She was so close. If only she held on through one last word, she knew this would be over without embarrassing herself any more than she already had. Her pussy pulsed harder, sending tingling arcs through her core. She began falling into the abyss.

“Come,” he said.

She exploded on his fingers.

“That was illuminating. I have learned much.” Mark acted as though he made women come using only words all the time. It was several long minutes later, and Zanthia had recovered, but she was shocked that he’d managed to do that to her.

“I wish to find out how your body responds in a more… tactile way,” he said, as he unfastened the straps. For a moment, Zanthia thought he was setting her free, until he added, “Get up on your hands and knees, please, and keep your bottom up.”

With a resigned sigh, Zanthia complied, taking care not to tangle the wires attaching her to the heartrate monitor. She quivered when an aftershock filled her womb. Mark moved the light so it was aimed at Zanthia’s face once more and she tried hard not to roll her eyes as he refastened the straps, this time around her calves and wrists.

“Tell me to stop if this distresses you, and I will desist at once.” Mark put his left hand on Zanthia’s back, then brought his right hand down hard across her bottom. The strength of his blow nearly knocked her over, but for his left arm, which steadied her. It encased her cheek in a balloon of tingles, which ignited her core again even though she had recently climaxed. The sting spread across her cheek as he swatted the other one, and soon both cheeks were glowing, making Zanthia struggle not to moan with desire as the warmth filled her. Her body’s reaction surprised her, but at the same time, Zanthia felt a deep sense of satisfaction, like she’d known this was what she wanted the entire time she’d been on the ship.

He tried spanking her again a few times, more gently than the first two. It made her glow, a feeling that seemed to go deeper than just where he’d spanked her, and she found herself tilting her hips slightly to get more.

She sucked her cheeks in to stop herself making a sound after she caught another moan nearly escaping.

“I would like to try the paddle, next,” he said, showing her a paddle. It looked like something for playing indoor sports with, which in a way, she supposed it was.

He brought it down on her bottom and it connected, feeling more solid than it ought, given how thin it was. The flat wood collided with her toned ass and the thud penetrated more deeply than it had when he was using only his hand. After the embarrassing orgasm apparently caused by the sound of his voice, she held in any and all responses, but it became extremely difficult. When the paddle smacked into her again, sending ripples through her sit spot, she tried to disguise her response with her breathing.

“Let it out,” he said, his tone gentle. She narrowed her eyes, glad that he couldn’t see her face. How did he possibly know that something built inside her? He had to be guessing. She saw no reason to show him whether this affected her or not.

He paddled her a few more times, the hardness making her cheeks complain even as her folds felt more dewy than before. Spanking wasn’t supposed to feel good, and Zanthia couldn’t reconcile the two conflicting emotions. She hated the pain and loved what it did to her at the same time. She wanted more, but she would never admit it. He would have to make her take it while she passively accepted what he gave her, because there was no way she intended to ask for it. He stopped suddenly, apparently still looking for something, because a few seconds later he thrust a cane in front of her face.

“Are you aware of what this is?” he asked.

“It’s a cane.” Her mouth was dry and she tried to swallow nervously as she eyed the implement she had spent so many hours fantasizing about, dreaming about, wishing to experience even though she was convinced she would run a mile if she ever came face to face with one. Now, however, her legs failed her. She wanted to run, to leave and go home and perhaps hide under her bed for the rest of her life, and never find out what this might have been like. At the same time, however, she couldn’t move. It was like watching a car crash unfold; she simply could not stop herself from allowing him to do this. What was wrong with her?

“I am going to see how this cane feels on your bottom. Please do not keep your responses to yourself.” The words made her stomach clench. She’d heard so many times how bad the cane was, how much of a deterrent it was, how society was going to rack and ruin because no one got caned enough anymore, and in her mind, it had become the biggest deal in the universe. When Mark had mentioned the cane earlier, it had deeply aroused her simply to hear the word spoken aloud. Now, seeing it, knowing the thin wooden stick was imminently going to strike across her rear, she thought she might melt into a puddle of goo.

The next thing she knew, a whipping sound pierced the air, then a muted whack followed as the cane landed on both cheeks at the same time. There was a brief delay during which Zanthia thought all her relatives might be mistaken about the severity of the cane. Then an unbelievably agonizing scorching sensation ripped across both bottom cheeks.

For a split second, she tried to stay quiet. That’s probably what caused her scream to come out far more loudly than she’d wanted. Her breathing seemed to have gotten faster and, more to the point, the place where the cane landed felt like the time she accidentally sat on her curling iron. Her whole world shrank to the size of the line that must have been left on her bottom after that stroke of the cane. She had always wondered what it felt like, and now she knew; it hurt.

“Fascinating. I wonder what another one will do.” When Mark spoke, his detached impassive tone of voice didn’t match at all with how Zanthia felt. It was like every atom of her body was fizzing and trying to pull away from one another.

He landed the cane below the first line, but still on the crown of her buttocks, just as hard as before. This time, she knew when it landed that there was a point of no return, when the cane had struck but not made its voice heard yet, and after which the pain would only get worse. She howled, and when the line began to fully form, there was a prickling feeling all over her skin as if she’d just been scalded. She found it difficult to draw breath, as all the nerves in her body seemed to react to the cane’s sharp sting and now her chest led a rebellion, refusing to let her have air. Traitorously, her pussy flooded with liquid. Competing with the biting pain, a tingling warmth grew within her. Despite the immense agony, she hadn’t thought she was close to tears, but of their own accord, her eyes seemed to water a little, and she felt too hot all over. She wiggled her bottom and beat the tops of her feet on the table to try to get some of the sting out but it adhered to her rear like the strongest glue.

“Shall we try a third?” Mark seemed unaffected still. Zanthia wanted to strangle him but he probably had a windpipe made of stainless steel. Perhaps he didn’t even need to breathe.

“Why? Weren’t the first two informative enough?” It was all she could do to keep her voice audible because her lips didn’t want to form words.

Zanthia knew she could do nothing but wait for another one, and when it landed low, she growled at first. This one tipped her over into actual tears, and she wiggled and drummed the table with her feet again, crying bitterly at how much her bottom hurt. Her nipples throbbed with desire and bolts of need surged through her core, but all she focused on was the searing pain. Why had she been so drawn to this for so many years? As the agonizing sting reached its peak, she wished she was at home in her soft bed with all her pillows. After she had been crying for a couple of minutes, she realized the awful sting had faded somewhat, and in its wake, it had left her very strongly aroused. Zanthia sincerely hoped the robot hadn’t noticed.

“Your skin’s reactions are captivating. Now I wish to test your internal responses.” He spoke with the same unemotional tone he seemed to always use. Restrained on the table again, furiously humiliated that she’d been forced to lose control like that, Zanthia wondered how long he was going to keep testing her.

“Internal… responses?” she asked thickly. So aroused was she that she barely focused her eyes on anything. She was glad when he moved the light away from her face, and the room seemed darker, more tranquil, without its glare.

“I want to see how strong your orgasms are, and how many you can have in a short period of time.”

“Why the halbardet do you need to know that?” Zanthia demanded, pulling against her bindings. She couldn’t believe he was going to take this even further than he already had, and for a moment, perhaps aided by the heat that still attacked her bottom, she lost her cool.

“Primarily, this is a research mission. Amongst our many similarities, such as our ability to build things and our successful social engineering, our two types of life also have profound differences. One of those is romantic attachments, and another is sex. I find that the concept of the female orgasm has garnered my interest. I am the first Artificial Intelligence to observe an orgasm. On Spheron, my home world, we don’t have sexual relations. My body was specially modified to imitate what we learned about humanoids during first contact, for the purposes of studying biological life.”

Zanthia tried to remember that this was just an assignment. It made sense now that he was so large and muscular. He was modeled after the giant elf archaeologist Ralnar Rowardennan, who had been Spheron’s first glimpse of a humanoid male. She had seen Ral on news broadcasts, and knew that Mark’s appearance differed in a lot of ways from the huge elf. Mark’s hair was shorter, his skin was slightly less tan, and his muscles were more rigidly defined, whilst his hands were also larger for some reason. If Spheron had only observed humanoids wearing clothing and being sociable, would Mark even have anything down below?

“Fine, do what you must,” Zanthia sighed. After all, she thought, there were worse things than being made to orgasm, and the cane had left her very turned on. She felt her nipples hardening again and digging into the strap across her chest as he inserted something into her slick pussy.

“This probe is designed to stimulate electrical pathways—your neurons should feel pleasant tingling sensations. Wait one moment while I insert the second one.”

Cold fear flooded her body as Zanthia’s terror of electricity came to the fore. She felt afraid of the idea of being made to come by the probes he put inside her. He said they should feel pleasant, but what if he was wrong? How would he know? Why did he need two, anyway? The last question was answered very soon, as she felt pressure against the entrance to her ass, and she widened her eyes in horror.

“Please don’t put anything there.” As she spoke, she tried to plead with her eyes but he wasn’t looking at her face.

“You just agreed that I could do this. What is the problem? Are you in pain?” His voice hinted at concern, and Zanthia shook her head.

“No, it doesn’t hurt at all, yet.” She emphasized the word as she tried to vocalize the mind-numbing fear that gripped her, before completely failing to explain why she didn’t like the idea that her first introduction to anal play was going to be a strange cyborg sliding a probe into her bottom and running electricity through it in the name of diplomatic relations. “It’s just… nobody’s ever gone there before. I didn’t imagine it would be like this.”

“Is there another way you would prefer for me to access those nerve endings?” He’d taken her question literally, and Zanthia had to laugh.

“No, I just always thought that if anyone wanted to go near my ass, they’d have romanced me first, told me that I was pretty, told me they loved me.” Not tied me down to a medical table and slid clinical probes into my body to measure something scientific, she added to herself.

“If this will cause you emotional distress, I can send a request to your government, and ask for an alternative diplomat.” He really seemed to care that she wasn’t happy about this situation, but she couldn’t possibly explain to him that, regardless of whether he wanted her to agree to things or not, she had no choice. She couldn’t jeopardize this assignment.

“No! No, please don’t tell them!” It reminded her of the threat of being posted to Pombos for the best years of her career. “Just do it. I’ll try to be good.”

“Then try to relax, let the probe in.” He slid it inside her, so her pussy and ass were both filled. Completely on edge with the fear that this might hurt, Zanthia barely registered the probes finding their place inside her. Then, the probes began to tingle, as he’d said they would. What he hadn’t told her was that the probes both seemed to be growing inside her.

“I’m so full, why are they getting bigger?” The pressure seemed to increase by the second, like two long thin balloons inflating at the same time, pressing against her tight, barely used sheaths. Combined with the pulsing tingles, the pressure focused her thoughts entirely on her pussy and ass.

“Do you like them? I designed them myself. They are expanding to find your ideal size—the size that gets the best response from the nerves within your two openings.”

“Why do you want to know that?” she asked, barely able to speak through the distraction. The bundle of nerves at the front of her tunnel was being expertly worked by one probe, which seemed to know the exact amount of stimulation she liked. It filled her whole body with fluttering tingles. The attention inside her bottom hole was more intense, giving a naughty edge to the building miasma of sensation that coursed through her nerves.

“To test a theory I have,” he said.

Before Zanthia asked what his theory was, the tingling and feeling of fullness in both holes turned into an incredible orgasm that seemed to reach into places she’d never used, as her ass and her pussy contracted around the probes and made her strain against her bondage. The glowing sensation stopped for a moment as her nerves seemed to reset themselves.

Thirty seconds later her body had stopped twitching with aftershocks, and the stimulation started again. This time, instead of continuous tingles, the devices pulsed, first one, then the other, over and over, seeming to change speed and strength until the probes settled on a setting, and less than a minute later, Zanthia came again, trying to flex her spine as she felt the radiance sweep through her.

By the fifth orgasm, Zanthia had stopped trying to be quiet, and she’d long since stopped wanting to get this over with—those thoughts were replaced with a desire for this to never end. By the twelfth, she had shouted herself hoarse.

Each new climax was stronger than the last and she didn’t think she’d ever come so much before. All the while, the probes had continued stimulating her, making her writhe and moan over and over until she lost count of how many times she’d come, and now she just lay on the table, limp, twitching slightly at each new orgasm. Exhausted, she felt herself falling away into nothingness as the sensations stopped and the probes were removed.