Sabrina’s Robounit

What if the line separating mechanical and magic blurred?

Note: Thanks to a special fan of the “Hero & Witch” series for inspiring this one.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Distracted, Jane blinked a few times and shook her head, bringing her attention to the woman sitting close by. The somewhat beguiled woman regarded the red-headed stranger who struck up a conversation with her out of the blue. It wasn’t a completely unfounded circumstance in a library, but she wondered why she was singled out of anyone there.

“I’m sorry, what’s….amazing?” It took her a few seconds to recall the word used.

“Ironically, what I just mentioned to you.” The stranger’s American accent puzzled Jane almost as much as her non-explanation for what she was talking about. They read each other’s faces quickly enough, and Jane was given more details.

“I’m sorry, guess it wasn’t that interesting a topic. I was reading a book that had a passage on attention spans. Got caught up in parts that claimed that we’re extremely capable of filtering out sounds, what we want to hear. I mean, our ears are constantly wide open, and we take in everything, and we think or brains will process everything, but if we wanted to, or even if someone else wanted us to, all we know could be isolated to just one sound, one voice. One anything, which sounds really amazing to me. It got my curiosity up so high, I actually felt compelled to bother the first stranger I saw about it.”

The stranger explained herself in a lightly-bubbly, sincerely interested way, which lightened Jane’s reaction toward her. To her surprise, they both shared a light laugh at the last sentence, in part because Jane’s boring book she picked out led her to concentrate more on the low but audible sounds of a nearby radio from a librarian lax on rules. At some point the stranger got her attention, and took her concentration away from the radio, much to her surprise.

“Well, I can’t claim that that doesn’t sound fascinating,” Jane admitted. “What kind of book did you get that from?”

“Some hypnosis book I found. Lots of neat little points and factoids in those to me.”

“Probably more interesting than mine,” Jane gestured toward one of the most boring autobiographies she’d every tried to read.

“I guess it’s one trance or another.” Jane chuckled genuinely at that for reasons known exclusively to her.

“I’m Sabrina, by the way.”

“Jane. First time in the U.K.?” she queried.

“No, not my first. I have family in Europe and I always find myself coming to Great Britain. Lot of things here live up to the ‘Great’ part of the country.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Taking in more sights this go round?”

“More about people this time.”

Sabrina’s answers were sufficient yet a little on the vague side, enough to interest Jane more.

“Friends?”

“Acquaintances, this time. Hopefully people nice enough to humor my fascinations.”

Sabrina’s choice of wording prevented Jane from answering. “Fascinations” wasn’t a word she was used to hearing, and potentially implied more than something innocent, or perhaps even vanilla. Jane considered politely departing from her seat, until Sabrina spoke again.

“Hey, do you happen to know if this library has a robotics section?”

It was asked casually enough, and seemed normal enough, and somehow Jane was able to keep her outwardly appearance static. Inwardly, she was developing a high-strung panic. Every other second she asked herself what does this Sabrina know.

“I get the feeling it’s close by, like really close, but it’s better to ask and know for sure, you know?”

“Um…well…”

Jane looked in several directions as if trying to find an answer for her, stalling unconvincingly, afraid to look at Sabrina again. The next time she did, she found the redhead’s calm yet very interested face looking right at her. It was the first time she noticed Sabrina’s blue eyes, not too dissimilar from hers, but carried their own draw. Jane realized in her stalling how much of a cornered, hunted person she seemed, and how Sabrina gave off a vibe of having her prey right where she wanted her.

“I’m not sure I know, Sabrina. I don’t work here, and-”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you work here,” Sabrina interrupted. “I just figured, what better person to ask.”

Sabrina’s posture subtly changed, seemingly more imbued with confidence and assertiveness, while Jane seemed frozen. The Englishwoman’s own fascinations unstoppably began flashing in her own mind, barely contained and suppressed with conscious effort. The widening of Sabrina’s smile almost implied she knew exactly what was going on in her head.

“What are you trying to say?” Jane asked softly, kicking herself for lacking irritation in her voice.

“As I look into those big blue eyes of yours,” Sabrina’s voice sounded strange, like a mix of accents in her voice, until she settled on one and finished her sentence.

“The answer becomes clear,” a cultured Irish voice intoned.

Shock filled Jane’s body as she realized Sabrina moved from her nearby table and gracefully took a seat next to Jane at hers. Staring into Sabrina’s eyes meant she’d lost track of everything else she was doing momentarily.

“Such a strange concept, there being a connection between circuitry and parts, and magic and spells, yet here we are.”

“W-what?”

“I couldn’t explain to you the science behind this connection if I tried right now. Something I might look up later in one of these books if I’m interested. What really interests me is what happens when said connection is established.”

A hundred different responses to the now-Irish woman’s words jumbled in her head amongst thousands of internal reactions. Sabrina seemed to enjoy everything that was going on in Jane’s head, until her expression shifted slightly.

“Wait. Do you even know what you are,” Sabrina curiously asked.

“What are you?” Both women were surprised by what emerged from Jane’s mouth.

“What do you think I am?” Sabrina smiled almost lopsided at her.

“A……..witch?” Jane struggled with any other explanation.

“Basically, yes. I have another name, but ‘Sabrina’ sounds witchy enough, doesn’t it? And of course your next question would be what do I want. The first thing I want is to shake hands.”

It was a question Jane considered, lower priority amongst trying to figure a way to escape the crazy circumstance Sabrina had brought to her. But Jane’s gaze lowered from blue eyes to a delicate hand with bright red, manicured nails, patiently waiting to hold her own hand. The red of her nails distracted her enough that her own hand grasped Sabrina’s before she realized. It was a gentle, nonthreatening handshake, somehow a moment of levity. The gentleness endured as Sabrina turned Jane’s hand upright and start stroking the top of her hand with another red nail she followed.

“Those lines beneath your skin, the sensations in your hands. Can you feel it? Can you feel how special you are beneath the surface?”

Subconsciously latching on to spoken notions of wiring and circuitry made Jane feel what she didn’t notice at first.

“Yes, you can feel it. What lies beneath feels as unique and amazing as what roams above you. Magic from my fingertips strokes your skin, soothing and at the same time livening up the conduits within.”

Experienced hands and fingertips nearly caressed Jane’s mind into complacency, until she remembered she was in a public place. Part of her protested reflexively pulling her hand away, not wanting to leave the seductive care of Sabrina’s touch, but she did anyway. The overall confusion of claims of sorceresses and machines shook her as much as the pleasure manifesting from thin air, or from Sabrina’s nails as suggested.

“No…I…I don’t….what….” was all the stunned Englishwoman could make out.

Sabrina, looking as shocked as Jane was to see her hand pulled away, regained her smile almost immediately. Jane nervously saw it come back in full force, more excited than before.

“Hmmmm, I see your model still retains those one-in-a million, pesky bugs. Unexpected.”

More suggestible than she realized, Jane’s skin crawled slightly just from the mention of bugs.

“No, no. By bugs I mean glitches. Small, rectifiable little mistakes in the way you are programmed. It’s keeping you from fulfilling your function.”

What Sabrina referred to as a bug forced its way to the forefront of Jane’s mind, making it contend with what she was told.

“What…what the hell do you mean ‘function?'”

“You still don’t know? That makes this even more fun,” was Sabrina’s intriguing non-answer.

The assertive woman loved the aforementioned bug in Jane. An obstinate obstacle that Sabrina was used to encountering in those who didn’t realize they had it. Unlike many, for what Sabrina wanted, such a bug didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“Just look in my big blue eyes and….” Sabrina deliberately paused to let Jane find her eyes again, bigger and bluer with every moment she waited for the sentence to be completed.

“…accept the fact that you are a pleasure doll.”

Jane remained as unblinking as Sabrina did for literal minutes, but the bug focused on the last two words, pressured her mind to reiterate them questioningly.

“No…pleasure doll…that’s n-”

“That’s what you are Jane. A robo-unit designed around the mere concept of pleasure, the 8th and most attractive generation yet.”

Jane barely felt her body accepting the compliment with gently flushed cheeks.

“I believe they named your type the Merry series, because you embody the word so very well.”

“Merry?”

“Merry the pleasure doll. It’s admirable that you could hide yourself in such a, excuse the phrasing, plain Jane persona, seemingly normal and no different from the crowds you blend into. I guess it would take a witch to identify a Merry pleasure doll, let alone draw one out to reveal itself.”

“A Merry unit will abide by the usual human laws of decency, saving their unique functionality for quiet, secluded places. Some won’t care and will take pleasure however, whenever, wherever they can get it. The bugged kind like you will struggle to be so normal though, that they will deny themselves any pleasure anywhere as the falsely make their primary programming blending in. Honestly, the rarity of running into a bugged Merry is probably the same odds as running into a witch. Fortunately for you, this witch like me enjoys such a bug, or in layman’s terms, resistance.”

The bugged part of her mind latched onto the word resistance, using it as a rallying cry to alert the rest of her senses, to revolt against the sensual coup to her self. It didn’t matter to Jane what this woman was claiming, she just knew she was exceptional and trouble of some sort. Unfortunately for her, there were visible signs of her reaction and fighting back. Her breathing began quickening in pace, the small hairs on arm raised gently, but all Sabrina needed to see was the effort around Jane’s eyes, as if her muscles were trying to make her narrow her gaze, to look back and her seducer indignantly.

“Oh my, this is a surprise. This must be your last vestige of refusal, the enhanced fight-or-flight system installed in every robo-unit, even Merry pleasure dolls. I wonder why, since it requires recognizing a credible threat to itself.”

“You are,” Jane tried sounding convincingly indignant to match.

“What I am is willing to humor you in that I’m some kind of threat. An evolved robo-unit like yourself should have no problem dealing with the average human. The problem with that is, witches are pretty much an evolved form of humanity, empowered by forces that connect the very universe we occupy. Your mechanical parts are no less connected to my power than my own, meaning the outcome of your reaction is already decided, no matter how you react.”

“If your reaction is fight, it must be hard enough for robo-units to have their number one safety directive be about not harming humans. And why shouldn’t it be, when machines are so much stronger than humans. But you’ve evolved, so many that rule doesn’t necessarily apply to you, so if you wanted to, as a test of strength and superiority, you could produce your fist to prove your ability to fight.”

Not as sluggish as she once was, her resistance brought her right hand out, balled into a fist, ready to rise to the witch’s challenge.

“Your iron fist belied by soft skin covering it should easily be able to push against the magic hand cover it now, except…”

Sabrina felt the easy push of Jane’s fist against her palm, but grinned as the muscles of her arm hesitated, waiting to hear the exception in that playful Irish lilt.

“My hand covers your hand, just like my voice covers your being. And you’d never think that magic stops strength, but your arm is surely hanging there, inert, as if lacking direction. The fight in you knows where it wants the fist and arm to go, but it’s like my hand is a net of equal strength, not allowing you to move further. It shouldn’t be like that, you’d reason, but that’s the beauty of magic, how it distorts reality to whatever the witch wants it to be. The fact that my hand covers yours should prove overwhelming enough to your robot logic. I overwhelm you this way. And your arm can find itself immovable while practiced fingers stroke the knuckles of said hand, over and over and over again. You can feel every stroke sapping the stored energy in your hand, and then your wrist. The lower arm, the upper arm, the joints of your shoulder losing power.”

Just as Sabrina described, it was as if the length of her arm had turned loose and liquid, vigor flowing in a downspout into the waiting hands that did indeed overwhelm her. The fight in her struggled not only to reclaim her arm, but to also keep from admitting how good the sorceress’s fingers felt easing her muscles, how lovely it felt for her arm to be falling asleep in a fight. After maybe two or three dozen strokes, Sabrina’s grasp was the only thing holding up Jane’s arm, keeping her hand balled into a fist, gently keeping it perpendicular to her arm, until she let it fall to hang lifelessly at her side. Ahead of Sabrina’s insistence, Jane brought her left fist up to counter, not expecting it to lack the energy she thought it had to strike. Sabrina easily captured it.

“Perhaps I took so much power from the first arm, I may have considerably drained the other. It’s fate is no different, except for the path it takes is a speedier one. The left knows what the right has felt, and maybe it’s eager to sweetly be put to bed. And how sweet it is, isn’t it? Stroking your hand to comfortable numbness, knowing the fight is in my hands, your power is in my hands, because it’s my power. Making me stronger, because in a way your logic has yet to understand, your assaulter assaults you with pleasure, makes you want to come under my assailance.”

In less than a minute, both arms hung by weakened shoulder joints, ending the notion of fighting.

“Yes, Merry. Your power is my power, which is why the last option afforded to the fight in you, flight, has already been snatched away. If your left hand knew what your right felt and already prepared its own surrender to me, your legs surely aren’t going anywhere. But that would be too predictable. What’s not is how witches actually love the flight part of fight-or-flight. We sometimes love it when our prey tries to flee. The chase excites us, but so does watching our prey assume there’s a chase to be had. From this point on, my words seem to flow over the muscles of your eyelids, weakening them, making them blink a few times, then a few more, then flutter uncontrollably, until they are securely shut.”

The vision of a smiling Sabrina faded, scared of what was to come.

“I know you fear where this is going, but it’s premature. With your eyes closed, you can see yourself free, mobile, filled with energy you think you lost. The real fear should come when you realize that in your freedom, you are trapped in darkness. It’s a strange fear, because the darkness offers you the same, comforting release your arms and eyelids felt. The darkness closes around you, not like a predator bearing fangs, but a warm blanket slowly covering your senses. If you will hard enough, you might be able to fashion an escape of some sort. Maybe it’s a light off in the distance. The light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe fighting to escape to it is as hard as fighting to open your eyes, such a struggle, but possible.”

The version of herself that Jane could imagine, surrounded by darkness, found the light source Sabrina mentioned, and with all the energy she could muster, dashed toward it like her free will depended on it.

“The closer you get to this light, the more detail you can make out. It’s a bluish light, bright and brilliant. Perhaps your exit is the clear bright ocean, one you can swim to safety in.”

It was blue, such a contrast to the darkness she ran away from. She couldn’t tell if a force behind her was nipping at her heels or pushing her forward, but it wasn’t her concern as she ran faster and faster.

“So close to it, almost free, almost out of the darkness.”

Jane was so happy to make out the details outside. It was like opening her eyes to a blue paradise.

It was like opening her eyes, her hand gripped by her chin, staring, swimming, diving head-long and wide-eyed into the abyss of Sabrina’s blue eyes yet again. Their faces were only an inch away, but Jane could still sense the deep smile Sabrina bore, if nothing else, in the eyes of her captor. Blue eyes programmed her further in a way words couldn’t, so the pair remained silent and still for several minutes, the fight within Jane muted and effectively subdued.

Leaning back after a while, somewhere from Sabrina’s person emerged a shimmering pendant, hanging from a long string entangled in the witch’s fingertips. Occasionally her thumb would brush the side to make it twirl, other times she used small movements from her wrists to swing it. The sight of it became less her peripheral vision and more her focus, until she took the wordless hint to follow it.

“It serves as constant amusement how low-tech I am in my life, always a generation or two behind the latest laptop, the latest cellular device, or those extra inches on TVs, yet being a witch affords me the ability to effortlessly operate the current most advanced technology known to man, on a level surpassing man. I don’t envy those who love machines, robotics, yet have to spend years upon years in classrooms, in books, in labs, staring at computer screens well past the point of keeping their eyes open. I can’t completely knock it as they did come up with knockout beauties like yourself. A witch’s discipline is just as rigorous, yet very much hands on, and we’re savants when it comes to you. Programming you under a scientist would be overly complicated surgery, needing labs, wires, such a chore. This little magical bauble here, who would believe this your remote control?”

Jane silently questioned it, but couldn’t speak up because she had so much to question, and the idea of a pendant as a remote control perplexed her more than anything. The inward bug didn’t seem visible while she casually but raptly fixated on the crystal hanging before her eye, but Sabrina knew it was there, and was happy to have it as a captive audience.

“Seems silly, doesn’t it? A glass ball acting as some kind of technology. About as silly as all those flashing lights and sounds and components on all those machines you’d need to be hooked up to you rid you of those bugs, the ones that keep you from believing the Merry little doll inside. But all those flashing lights are right here, so many at a time, one after another, right in your eyes, already helping to program you. Technical bleeps and bloops must be like white noise after a few minutes, so unlike my voice that cascades over you, the kind you just have to tune into. And the only components needed here are just you and me. Just Sabrina and Merry, no one else, nothing else is important or required.”

“Your mind is being programmed several flashes a second, every facet of my magical crystal, broadcasting my spell, allowing me to assume control as my will travels through every vain and circuit, welcomed and helping you to find your true self within. Let your eyes follow every flash. Your servile, pretty eyes searching for my commands, endlessly searching for the indicator of when your reprogramming, refreshing your mind, is complete. It doesn’t matter if you see it as a countdown or a progress bar, there’s no reversing what I’m doing. You wouldn’t want that. You can’t wait for the flash to come, as you drown in the thousands of flashes before it, succumbing at a joyful rate.”

“This bug of resistance in you, I feel like I was destined to find it, destined to find you and contend with it. Your creators, after so long, still can’t find a trace of the bug’s origin, or know how to stop it effectively. Certainly not like I can. But I have a theory on the bug itself.”

Jane sighed, almost moaned happily as she a growing part of her wanted to know more. Her hand back in Sabrina’s grasp stroked on its top, her eyes seized by Sabrina’s crystal, the vaguely aware bug within her knew its window of escape was effectively shut, and could only hear Sabrina’s curious take on it.

“It’s not really a bug per-se, but a form of evolving for the Merry series. Having gone from just anyone giving you pleasure, maybe your independent thinking has determined that as plentiful as it can be from just anyone, many times it misses the mark. Women would call this phenomenon, ‘having standards.’ You don’t want just anyone to give you pleasure. You want someone who knows what they’re doing, beyond any protesting, and will drown you in exactly what you want. Any scientist would probably direct you to the nearest laboratory for ‘repairs.’ Witches, we recognize quality over quantity, sometimes quality through quantity, and even quantity through quality. You can certainly quantify what’s happening to you now, feeling the pleasure doll within beginning to bloom.”

“Part of you might think ‘nothing is wrong with me,’ and I would partly agree with you. You don’t need to change in my eyes, though you should not be afraid to admit that nothing is wrong with openly being a pleasure doll for me. Magic is like an ever-flowing well of energy, of power, of vitality. You can turn it into whatever you want, but its default sensation is always pleasure. It doesn’t let up as it channels itself through me at my insistence, and into you, the cup that hasn’t been filled in a very long time. You’ve been a plain Jane so long, you’ve even forgotten your signature form as a pleasure doll, and it will be a pleasure to help you recapture that.”

“As your sweet robot mind rises to the surface, begin to quantify for Sabrina. Divide the number of days from the last time you assumed your pleasure doll setting by the number of times you’ve experienced internal disappointment it the pleasure given not reaching your standards. Multiply that by the amount of time it took you to realize you actually have a standard. Add to that the number of flashes off the facets of my crystal, and subtract the number of words your resistance feels the need to speak up.”

Jane tried to run the numbers in her head, and felt that she was on some level, but the rest of her mind went pleasantly numb as she did so.

“Don’t be surprised if the number of words of resistance was actually zero, because your resistance is working in-tandem with your standards. It won’t even bother with some other poor excuse for a pleasure giver half-assing it with inexperience, or under the assumption that you’re easy to turn on, that you should do all the work. Merry little pleasure dolls deserve better. Overcoming your resistance simply means proving to your Merry self that what you feel now is certainly worthy of your attention, of your time and robot mind.”

“That’s right. Sabrina is worthy of your attention, and so you give all of it to her. Look my way without reservation, listen my way without concern, love my way of instilling pleasure. Take that number you quantified before and divide it by the reduced number of deep breaths you’re taking every minute, but multiply that by the number of words you hear me speak with each passing second. Add to that the number of loosening muscles, but subtract it by the number of muscles feeling tension.”

“Now take that number, divide the number of times you feel the need to blink while multiplying the number of facets that sparkle brighter than you expected. Once you do that, add the number of muscles you feel loosening across your face, then subtract the number of muscles preventing you from beginning to smile. Yes, the makings of an exquisite smile, so happy, not a care in the world, separated from it like when you divide the last number by the number of toes and soles comfortably, unmovingly planted on the floor, multiplied by the temperature you feel in those ever-rosining cheeks. Added by the number of millimeters it takes for your lip muscles to tug themselves into a smile, subtracted by the number of reasons you have to not smile.”

One of Jane’s remaining thoughts was imagining what a robotic pleasure doll looked like. Sabrina had successfully convinced her of it being a repressed memory, buried like treasure, to be excavated by someone who’d earned the privilege to see it. Flashes of life-size barbie dolls was what her imagination gave her to work with, the kind young Jane had always wanted. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was the happiest-looking doll ever produced. Feeling the transformation on her face, it was much easier to imprint parts of herself onto the dolls face. Slowly yet surely the doll gained mindless, blissed vitality.

“I don’t know if this has registered on your hand circuits yet, but my thumb on the back of your hand has been stroking small circles over it since before your comprehension was seized. I heard this motion was a means of accessing the Merry series, in a profound way. I don’t know the details yet, but I couldn’t resist seeing what it does to you. Programming you via voice commands, with my remote control/crystal pendant, and the hand access on top of that, all of you is certainly open to me now. And who knows what my hand stroking is really doing to you. Does it make my voice commands stronger? Does it free up your circuits? Does it power down you as a robo unit to basic functions like calculations, like dividing the last number by the number of calves, knees, and thighs temporarily devoid of motor control, and then multiplying by the number of rotations I’ve made on the back of your hand. Adding the number of times you wish to be called Merry, subtracting the number of times you wish to be called Jane.”

The more she saw herself in the mental image of a doll, the less she could refer to it as Jane. She knew it was essentially the same body carrying two personas like different moods, but it was just so fitting to see, think, and be Merry.

“And so I will refer to you as Merry, as if it was the only name you ever knew. And there’s precious little you really need to know; getting reacquainted with yourself is much more important. I won’t mind it if you divide the last number from how many thoughts are left in your head; if you want to multiply that number by how many deep breaths your torso has enjoyed, you can. The way each ample breast you have rises and falls, you can double it. If the nipples happen to get hard, quadruple it. Don’t forget to add the number of times I’ve said your you’ve thought about pleasure, or to subtract your resistance’s chances of removing that immovable smile.”

Merry’s thoughts boiled down to a static image of a happy living doll, a mirror image of perfect submissive bliss, and the only thing animated besides her body from pleasure was the red-headed bewitching good samaritan who caused it all.

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of our over-extended calculation, where all we need to do is divide the last number from the amount of protest you have left in you, followed by multiplying the infinite number of commands you will accept. Add up every word I’ve spoken to you since we’ve met, and finally subtract it from the number of thoughts that don’t originate from Sabrina. Now, has my pretty little robo unit come up with an answer?”

Merry couldn’t respond; it felt too good to keep smiling and remain unmoving, the living doll she never knew she wanted to be so badly.

“Good girl. Totally understandable how you might be tight-lipped right now. It’s not like you need to say it, because the answer is so obvious – obey.”

The hot whisper of the solution to the trance-inducing equation in Merry’s ear got a small response out of her. The robo unit’s expression nearly slipping into something mildly orgasmic made Sabrina chuckle, almost cackle quietly to herself. After what seemed like a full hour, Sabrina finally lowered her hand, happy that her pendant didn’t weigh that much. Merry was oblivious to it, still starring forward, still seeing every facet cast mesmerizing light into her eyes, ever programming her despite the bulk of Sabrina’s programming considered done. Both women knew what she was now. Merry the pleasure doll, already filled with so much, happily waiting to give as good as she got, to whomever Sabrina directed her toward.

Sabrina was too busy eying Merry like she was a present on Christmas morning, wrapped and bowed in submissive bondage of sorcery and circuitry. It was at her leisure, how and when Merry would do her bidding. The most obvious choices were there, but Sabrina found herself uninterested in what a robo unit could do for her. She found herself content just starring at the doll, which decisively made her next move for her.

“Merry, my pleasure doll. Right hand under your shirt, caressing yourself. Left hand in your pants, slowly.”

A small sound nearly escaped Merry’s barely parting lips. The perfect visage of a pleasure doll fully charged nearly lapsed, shocked by the logical anomaly that their penchant for often receiving and then giving pleasure had been altered. It was strange enough that someone instilled pleasure so expertly to Merry instead of sloppily, even for human standards, but having her re-direct that anxious energy right back into herself was unheard of by most robo units.

“You truly are MY pleasure doll now, Merry. Right hand feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever held your developed bust. Left hand feeling like the first time you ever discovered self-pleasure,” Sabrina giggled, realizing what she commanded of Merry’s left might’ve been true. “I was right about your ‘bug’ being a means of standardization, and it’s a pleasure to know that I’ve created a whole new standard for you, potentially ruining you for anyone else. Right and left hand, stroking with curious fingers. Sure, you’ll accept pleasure if you need it on occasion, but it’s clear whom you’ll be longing for at every opportunity for pleasure. Every circuit and chip inside you knows the name Sabrina, compares it to everyone else, and lights up whenever I’m around, like a high-voltage Christmas tree wherever I touch you. My touch includes my magic and beguiling words touching your body; obeying my commands and touching yourself is essentially my touch, so your most precious robo-lady parts should feel pretty blinding and hot on the inside.”

Hands that were once numb felt hotter and more alive than ever before, just to be able to touch her most intimate parts. Her mind felt the same way as Sabrina’s voice touched her brain’s most intimate parts, until all of it felt like one big erogenous zone.

“Both hands gaining experience, remembering what you love, treating you like a treasured lover on a special night. Being mine will feel like an honor Merry, because my pets might know more pleasure in a day than some will in a lifetime. And your owner loves to see her pets pleasured, pleasuring themselves at my will. Obeying me is pleasure, touching yourself for me is pleasure, being my Merry pleasure doll, being mine, is pleasure.”

Wide open robot eyes blinked against her programming.

“Both hands pinching, teasing yourself. Your owner loves how the only fight left in you is to contend with being a robotic pleasure doll, and your evolving, human-remnant side, the side that wants to outwardly show how good you feel.”

It was a fight Merry had no control over. She pinched and tweaked her nipples in a way she likes that no one else knows, and her eyes fought to remain open, but still fluttered and rolled back into their sockets. She stroked her walls easily against pleasured leakage and found it difficult to keep her hips still as she found a rhythm to increase the frenzy of sensations.

“Right hand pawing each breast like you know it’s coming. Fingers of your left hand stroking faster like you know it cannot be stopped. And you certainly know what ‘it’ is, don’t you sweety? Every miniscule part of you just knows, cheers on the onset of it. It is inevitable. From the moment you met me, this was inevitable. Pleasure, obedience, control. You fight so hard between the nature of your robot self, and what an avalanche of pleasure will do to any being caught beneath it. You want to be smiling and mindless in form, yet you still are as you lose yourself. Perfection in being Merry is being yourself, and all that you happen to feel. The perfect still robo unit, or the thrashing throws of a pleasured woman, what are you supposed to be? What will you be?”

Merry didn’t know, couldn’t. She could only be as she was.

“Maybe you once thought being the stilled pleasure doll was your perfection, but we’ve been challenging so many standards for you, what’s another? Because that signature leakage I sense and smell nearby, doesn’t seem like perfection. And to err like that, is to simply be….human.”

Sabrina snapped her fingers three times in her face, and her human side took over, screaming for what should’ve been several orgasms into a huge, mind-blowing fireworks display in and out of her pants. Merry moved so violently against her chair that Sabrina was afraid she was going to break it and crash to the floor, thanking the heavens for libraries having sturdy wood in chairs. Her screams would have alarmed any one in or outside the library. But unbeknownst to Merry, or Jane, it was well past check-out time in their arranged meeting at Jane’s local public library. There was a third woman present, a librarian thinking she had to be there late to work, but work involved listening to the radio like it was the most important thing she should’ve been doing, after a small talk with Sabrina.

Sabrina looked outside to make sure that the streets were vacant, and smiled at how well her game had turned out. She never knew she’d have such a fan in someone who’d been an observer in her game, one with her own intriguing fantasies. It seemed that superheroes, nor robots were safe from Sabrina’s witchy ways. Setting things up was rather easy, waiting till dark, prepping the librarian and Jane with an introductory trance to test her susceptibility, and then totally playing by ear with a full-fledged fantasy session. The red-head wondered if she had made a mistake somewhere along the line; she wouldn’t be surprised, she got an equal charge out of playing the witch again, and meshing Jane’s fantasies with her own ideas. She couldn’t tell who was more satisfied between her self and her British pet. One look in Merry’s direction, and she knew for once, it wasn’t the hypnotist.

After turning the radio off, the only sound echoing through the library was soft whispers, gentle moans, the sound of a mop cleaning under where Jane sat, and the sound of three women heading for the exit. Outside, Sabrina spoke first to the librarian, sending her on her way, and then more to Merry, thanking her consciousness and subconsciousness for playing along, and for being a wonderful pleasure doll, a suggestion that made her visibly shiver. It became her trigger for the next time Sabrina would feel like playing with her, in-person or from afar. Neither woman could wait for that next time.

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