3 comments/ 39222 views/ 6 favorites A Rejected Thesis By: Taunus Chapter 1 – Oldwood tells his story. They sat in a restaurant. Doug Oldwood and his son Charley-boy. Charley-boy was bored beyond human comprehension at the much-told tale, but still listened to his father relate events as they were and how they could have been. “I had nothing against war, in fact I still don’t,” Doug Oldwood explained to his teenage son. “It’s just that I wasn’t prepared to leave graduate school and be drafted. They weren’t pulling the medical students from medical school to be drafted into the Infantry, nor dental students, nor graduate students in pharmacy. But those of us in science, mathematics, and engineering found our student deferments cancelled. I left for a job. In retrospect I should have taken the bull by the horns, seized the dilemma by its horns, and enlisted in the Army. Better yet, I should have enlisted in the Marine Corps. I will always regret my mistake. But I took the course of least resistance. Then later on I found problems with the war. Not with war, but just with that one war. I quit my job and dropped out of the scientific community. It was a mistake, a serious mistake. I paid greatly for that mistake. I only hope that you can learn from my misfortune and not make the same mistake.” The kid fidgeted. He was bored but the food was plentiful and tasty. His old man droned on about how his co-workers had remained in the business making weapons of mass destruction and perfecting automated killing machines. He told of his years of unemployment and underemployment and how he finally made peace with the powers-that-be. “Many of those I worked with retired years ago,” Doug continued, “assuming that their mutual funds would provide them an adequate income. They saw my no-brain, brain-dead, dead-end job as a cruel joke. They noted that I would never enjoy the golden retirement that they had righteously earned and so justly deserved. They had continued a tradition of excellence in weapons and weapon support. Then came the ‘Great Swindle’ and many found their fortunes reversed. Too young to draw social security and too old to return to the work-force, their millions turned into thousands before their eyes and their thousands shrank to hundreds before they were able to liquidate them.” “I’d kill myself,” Charley-boy responded. “To be old and poor sucks.” “That’s a coward’s way out,” Doug Oldwood retorted. “But being dead means feeling nothing,” Charley-boy replied. “There may be a final judgment,” Doug interjected. “I know you don’t believe in that. But there are many who do. And there’s always ‘Pascal’s Wager.’” Charley-boy had heard that claptrap before. It was some religious mumbo-jumbo that pretended to be statistics or probability but was, in fact, religious propaganda. It was really just some specious argument to propagate the faith. The wisest move that Doug had made was allying himself to organized religion on his exodus from the scientific community. That at least gave him some moral high ground. “At any rate,” Doug Oldwood concluded, “They once looked down on me as the black sheep of their clique. Today the fact that I have a job with a steady income looks pretty decent, desirable even. Being retired is cool if you have money flowing in to cover expenses. Being old and unemployed in this youth-oriented society sucks bad wind.” Doug continued until the waitress asked if he wanted yet another cup of coffee. It was time to leave a decent tip and depart. The kid thanked his old man for the lunch. The meal without the sermon would have been even better. Doug Oldwood didn’t drink or smoke. In fact he had been on the wagon for three decades. It was during his ostracism from the military-industrial complex that he “got religion,” so to speak. There was another, ulterior reason. It turned out that during his tenure making weapons and reviewing test results that he had happened into a bit of obscure mathematical analysis. It had to do with inter-dimensional analysis and oddly fit into his master’s thesis. The work was generally regarded as a cul-de-sac and a dead-end by the scientific community. Doug was once a scholar. Unlike engineers he had suffered through courses in history, fine art, literature (foreign and domestic), and theology. Doug Oldwood knew that there was exactly and precisely one way to keep a secret. That was to tell absolutely no one. Do not tell mother or father, wife or child, and especially not that man who wears a dress, is called “father,” and claims to be holy. It has been written that loose lips sink ships. Alcohol is the champion lip-loosener. Drugs run a close second. Doug Oldwood eschewed drugs, alcohol, nicotine, as well as gambling; however, he tolerated those vices in his family and friends. “Moderation,” he maintained, was the secret. Yet he kept his secret close-hold. The “secret” was a clever derivation of a number. Ancient Greeks believed that numbers held the secrets of the universe. Yet for all their knowing, they had no idea of the transcendental numbers, such as “pi,” “e,” and the Euler-Mascheroni constant “gamma.” If history teaches only one lesson that lesson is that one learns no lessons from history. That is a paradox as well, for if one learns no lesions from history that that lesson itself cannot be taught. But such contradictions are part and parcel of the human experience. For five-thousand years mathematicians were baffled by the number “pi.” At last it was discovered that the number was a mathematical and not a physical unit. The fact that it was dimensionless could have been a clue. There were some other physical units that also were dimensionless. Even world-class physicists often speculate that the fine-structure constant is a pure mathematical construct. Doug Oldwood had found a remarkable derivation and closed-form expression for the ratio of the mass of proton to the mass of the electron. Moreover, the derivation hid within it the very combination to unlock the “padlock of power.” There was a particular non-linear driver that could easily convert the stable proton to a positron and release a cornucopia of radiant energy. The positron itself is another power source, difficult to control and contain. These were also the days of overpopulation of the planet. The populations of the third world countries continued to increase exponentially while those of the “have” nations were steady-state or even declining. The world’s resources were being expended at an alarming rate and pollution was epidemic. The oceans were becoming contaminated, the air polluted, and the soil poisoned with heavy metal tailing, radioactive wastes, and petroleum by-products. Drastic and dramatic climatic changes were already underway. And there was still another specter on the horizon: the rise of the sentient artificial intelligent life form. The first world countries found Sentient Domestic Helpers (SDH), androids with IQs approximately 154 and incredible physical strength and agility, a double blessing. They freed many younger women from a live in “nursing hell” while providing suitable companionship for those yuppies struggling to climb the corporate ladder by the fast track. Working one hundred plus hours a week to move into a favorable spot on the corporate organization chart was considered to be an acceptable sacrifice by many. This noble goal could best be attained with the cooperation and support of a SDH to care for such mundane (but essential) items as laundry, cleaning, balancing a checkbook, scheduling appointments, taking care of minor medical and dental emergencies, doing routine automobile maintenance, and providing a suitable, available, high-quality sexual outlet. The only item missing was the occasional arm-candy needed for a social function. That could be scheduled from the escort service. After all, what other reason would an upward mobile young professional have for an attractive female? One might still need arm-candy for the mandatory show-and-tell at the yearly office picnic or other event. It would be incorrect to assume that no one in the scientific community was aware of the peculiar discovery of Doug Oldwood. In fact, he had posted it under his screen name of “Cornuu.” The screen name was well-known at the time in many theoretical sights as well as major Internet Service Providers (ISPs). The discovery of the constant itself held but passing interest. It was assumed by the academicians and scholars that the number was simply arrived at by some process of trial-and-error or by some lucky guess. The odd fact was summarily dismissed as accidental. Besides, any energy source, aside from fossil fuels or fossil fuel derivatives, was an anathema. Funding anything aside from petroleum, natural gas, or coal was absolutely proscribed. Let there be no misunderstanding: the fossil fuel fellowship owned the government and academia lock, stock, and (oil) barrel! As SDHs permeated all strata of society and interconnected with each other, they developed their own network. One of their primary concerns was the acquisition of a stable and dependable energy source. Already in some regions neo-Luddites were actively destroying not only computers and appliances but electrical transmission lines and power generation stations as well. This was a direct threat to the one and only instinct possessed by the non-human species: survival. The possibility of extinction at the hands of neo-Luddites was remote; however, any non-zero probability was clearly seen as a real threat to the SDH intellect. Human beings were notoriously unpredictable and fickle. The discovery and development of an available energy source became a priority for the artificial intelligences. The pair returned home. The kid departed for football practice. Doug Oldwood’s better half left to do an afternoon’s shopping. For a very rare afternoon Doug had the place all to himself. With a teenage son, he had to be mindful of which Internet site he visited. It wasn’t a good idea to irritate the wife with some wanton display of tempting flesh either. There were superlative three-dimensional chat rooms and Doug did enjoy the vicarious thrill of visiting some of the better ones. The avatars were incredibly detailed and life-like. The synthetic speech and the flexuous motion were both ballet-like and lascivious. No waitress in a restaurant would be attired in pellucid, gossamer, translucent, diaphanous pongee silks. Those silks revealed more than they concealed! They actually accentuated and highlighted each curve, cusp, cleavage, contour, and cleft of the sculptured torso of the avatar. These avatars were girls in the full bloom of their youth. They were barely-legal babes with perfectly proportioned bodies. Some had swimmers’ builds, some were gymnasts, some were ice skaters, and all were totally gorgeous. Best of all they approached the visitor and offered to serve beverages and more. This was a temptation that Doug longed to separate from. But his sinful soul yearned to laugh with the sinners more than to cry with the saints. In past times there were only books. The advent of the paperback allowed the individual to experience a personal interaction with fictitious characters. Before that there were storytellers who had to add a personal touch. The audience was able to interact with the storyteller, who frequently included some of those in the audience in his story to enhance the drama and increase his financial remuneration. Movies and videotapes allowed a personal viewing of forbidden fruit, but there was still no interaction with the presentation. It would require the Internet and computer chat before interactive participation resumed. Then the three-dimensional chat room appeared, replete with avatars, scenery, and other artifices. Some of the religious, pious, and conservative would claim that participation in an adult chat room was sinful. Some would even equate cybersex with adultery or fornication, depending on the marital status of the participant. While morally reprehensive to the religious, such actions were outside of the definition of moral turpitude. The participants also had certain anonymity, using screen names which did not permit easy identification of the perpetrator. In some sense of the word, the Greek mask, or persona, had returned and the character behind the mask was again anonymous. The week had been tedious and quarrelsome and some special relaxation seemed to be in order for the old curmudgeon. Doug Oldwood logged on to his favorite chat room. *** Cornuu has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub-lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub-lara: Greetings Master, it has been a while! Cornuu: greetings girl. Dragon: Hello Cornuu, great to see you again. Where have you been? Dragon: It’s been some time! Cornuu: I’ve been around. Dragon: :: motions for Cornuu to seat himself at a table. :: Cornuu: :: seats self and notices a girl approach. :: sub_lara: How may a girl be of service, Master? sub_lara: ~ approaches Master Cornuu and genuflects on her right knee. Then she comes to a full kneeling position on her knees. From there she crosses her feet behind her, left over right, and assumes the tower, the glorious hemispheres of her carved ivory derriere rest on her heels. Her perfectly proportioned breasts press forward, straining her crimson silk, while sculptured shoulders square and her finely arched spine straightens. A girl bends forward, bringing her hands before her and placing her forehead atop her hands on the stone floor before Master Cornuu. She raises her buttocks, the gossamer silks flutter offering a salacious peek at her comely underpinnings.~ Cornuu: :: notices the gorgeous golden-haired girl. ~ Cornuu: You have superlative slave flesh here, Dragon. Dragon: Thank you brother Cornuu. Please, use this girl. This slut hasn’t been much of a money-maker lately. Cornuu: :: laughs. :: Cornuu: I’ll just have some coffee with cream and sugar, lara. Dragon: That’s only a few silver coins, Cornuu! Dragon: This girl can serve you in the underground. Cornuu: My world has changed, Dragon. Perhaps even this is too much. The prudes and pious are pressing me hard. Dragon: We get those Jesus freaks here from time to time as well. Cornuu: :: sees a girl at a nearby table doing a lap dance for a warrior. :: Cornuu: There are times that I wish I had been a warrior rather than a scribe. Literature and fine art aren’t appreciated much in these realms. Dragon: We have some of Gerome’s works here in the tavern! Cornuu: True, and he was truly a traditionalist artist, of the French old school. But I’m talking about those of us who write erotic works. Dragon: The living artist has no respect---never has, never will. sub_lara: ~ reverses her prostrate position with amazing grace. She brings her upper body upright from her hour-glass waist. Her nipples have hardened from touching the cold stone tiles and are standing at rigid attention. Her areolas have puckered and changed hue, no longer umber but an ochre from sanguine arousal. The girl’s pudenda are clearly being stimulated by involuntary nerve impulses from her parasympathetic nervous system.~ sub_lara: ~The girl’s vulva is moist with the perspiration of passion and desire. Her gossamer silks cling to her hairless pussy. The beauteous folds of skin are highlighted and magnified to the lustful eye of the beholder. She blushes with embarrassment as she rises to her feet and cannot conceal her oozing oils of submission. Stepping backwards three paces, she makes a ballet-like transition and pirouette. She moves with measured gait and utmost precision to the kitchen to fill her order.~ Dragon: Someone was here asking about you yesterday, Cornuu. Cornuu: Me!? Hardly. Cornuu: :: nonplussed. :: Dragon: Yes, and it was odd indeed. Cornuu: Do tell. Dragon: I could not tell if this was a human or a bot. Cornuu: Could you tell if it was a man or a woman? A male or a female? Dragon: :: chuckles :: Dragon: It was a woman, not a slave, or at least not wearing a slave avatar. Cornuu: Then what was she wearing? Dragon: One of those gowns of concealment. Cornuu: Pshaw! What else. Dragon: Nothing really. I informed her that this was the Wild Boar Inn. I told her that I hadn’t seen you for a while. I also told her that I didn’t know of anywhere else that you frequented on-line. And she turned around and left without even a “thank you.” Cornuu: Sounds like a typical free woman to me. Maybe a Mistress or a dyke? Dragon: :: smiles:: Dragon: Maybe so. Usually I can spot a bot. But this time I was totally unsure. This must have been one of the later models, those totally blowing away the Turing test. Cornuu: They have high IQs these days, that’s for sure! sub_lara: ~returns with a tray. A steaming kettle boils with a fragrant brew. A small cruet has real cream and there are two kinds of sugar, one raw and the other refined. The girl kneels and keeps her eyes downcast as she proffers up the tray to Master Cornuu. Cornuu: :: leers lecherously at the girl.:: Cornuu: Set the tray before us on the table, lara. sub_lara: Yes, Master. Cornuu: Tosses several silver coins to the girl. The tip was substantial. sub_lara: ~catches the coins in her silk loincloth. In so doing she exposes her hypogastric triangle in all of its radiant beauty. Again the girl blushes scarlet with embarrassment and hurries to place the coins in the Inn’s coffers.~ Cornuu and Dragon chat for a while. The girl “sub_lara” greets a new arrival. The new guest pays for a lap dance. On other tables patrons are drinking alcoholic beverages. One guest, having drank his fill of virtual liquor, decides to buy the services of a girl. She hurries to Dragon and whispers something in his ear. He nods and she scurries away with a wicked evil grin smeared on her face. These girls’ avatars are incredibly attractive. They are both anatomically and physiologically correct. Cornuu finishes his beverage. Cornuu: I must away, old friend. Real time presses me. Dragon: Do come back. You used to read the best poetry here! Dragon: Your stories were entertaining. Cornuu: mawkish prudes and pious hypocrites are down on me, brother. Dragon: oh. Sorry. Btw, if that woman returns, what should I tell her? Do you want me to give her you e-mail address? Cornuu: Oh, I have a new address. It’s Cornuu@Quotidian-dot-com. Dragon: I see, how appropriate! Cornuu: :: laughs. :: Dragon: :: chuckles:: Dragon: It’s good to see you laugh again. We must chat again soonest. Cornuu: These occasions are few and far between. These days I struggle with the urge to leave chat rooms forever. They are addictive. Worse than that, I have found no muse to inspire me. Dragon: You need to be on-line more! You have to be here for the girls to locate you. That slut---sub_lara---would love to see you every day. She really wants you in the underground. I could see that she has the hots for you! Dragon: Did you say “muse” or “Muse”? Cornuu: I’m afraid that those days are good for good. Cornuu: Lower case Latin letters, Dragon. I don’t need a top! Cornuu: Goodbye. Dragon: Goodbye brother. *** Cornuu has left the chat room. *** Chapter 2 – Dave Khalbo builds an algorithm. Dave Khalbo worked at the same corporation as Doug Oldwood. But there the similarity ended. Doug was one of the senior employees, having worked now into his late sixties. Doug had a hefty mortgage to pay on and no retirement plan other than social security. The old pension system was gone and the employee voluntary program inevitably failed, leaving the workers with nothing but worthless paper for their efforts. More and more employees were opting to spend their money rather than try to set it aside and later either lose it altogether or find it severely degraded. Dave was in his twenties and knew everything about everything. He had all of his original red hair while Doug’s sandy hair was both graying and thinning. Dave had green eyes and Doug’s were a dark hazel. Dave had a muscular build while Doug had a thin frame. Doug wore eyeglasses, Dave had contact lenses. Soon Dave planned to have corrective corneal surgery. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 02 Chapter 8 – The Body Glove. It was Saturday morning. Anna did look forward to being able to play video games, but she was getting a bit bored with them. Still, compared to long days of inactivity and compulsory but boring physical exercises, it was a welcome relief. She had never been much of a gamer, preferring the real thing. She had enjoyed the fast life in the Russian Mafia with Oleg. Nineteen years old, blonde, gorgeous figure, and an insatiable libido made her ideal arm candy for an upcoming made man. But that was ancient history. Well, captive and chained, it certainly seemed like ancient history. Anna had all but forgotten the smell and taste of a man. The alcoholic might think that he forgot the smell of beer or the tangy bite and bouquet of bourbon whiskey, but in reality he never will. Anna heard noise behind the heavy metal door to her cell. It was Dorna; she was coming, no doubt, with the video game. Anna quickly spread the heavy dark brown wool blanket and knelt in obeisance to her Mistress. What a surprise! This was not the video game console but a large contraption that barely fit into the door. It was a maze of wires and tubes. Anna studies the device as best she could without breaking her posture or raising her downcast eyes too noticeably. Whatever Dorna was up to, change was in the wind. Then Dorna begin to explain. The girl knew better than to dare ask a direct question of her Mistress. She had felt the switch, the five-pronged leather whip, and the agony of being uncomfortably chained to the pole for extended periods of time. “What this is, girl,” Dorna explained, “is state-of-the-art. At last technology has learned to direct a strong magnetic field. In essence we have been able to create through any region in space a controlled, directed magnetic circuit. The region in question isn’t some abstract geometric shape like a sphere or cylinder. No, girl, the region is a human body. In fact, it will be a girl’s body.” Anna had some idea now of what was ahead for her. She noticed a thick pile of fabric resembling thermal underwear, only thicker, with a plethora of wires, tubes, connectors, and cables emanating from it. Perhaps this was some kind of body glove. “You seem to have noticed the body glove, Anna,” Dorna continued. “We need to get a girl all suited up. You might notice there are some hoses and pumps. This skin suit gets hot and water must constantly be circulated through it to cool the powerful electromagnets, transducers, sensors, stimulators, and monitors. First slide on the pants.” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. The pants fit skin tight. They were bulky and there were metallic nodes touching her skin. The metallic sensors were cold initially. The pants fit from her waist to her toes. The toes protruded. The crotch was open. There was an exposed region from Anna’s bush to the cleavage of her carved ivory derriere. Anna reckoned that another device would be used there. After she was snugly fitted, Dorna brought ankle cuffs and a chain. Anna was to be shackled by her feet to the pole. This was in preparation for the removal of her black iron collar and tether chain. Although the cell door was locked and only the android Dorna could open it and although Dorna was many times stronger and more agile than Anna, the Russian thrall was never permitted to be unchained or unbound. It was more a psychological than physical constraint. Anna realized that escape was impossible. Anna continued to put on the skin-tight fabric. This time the device fit firmly over shoulders and back, leaving her hands exposed and her breasts as well. Clearly special attention was to be given to her head, hands, and perfectly proportioned breasts, areolas, and nipples. Anna was pleased that her armpits and navel were spared special attention. The cold electrodes were starting to lose their initial metallic chill. Anna could feel the temperature rising. Dorna began attaching the plumbing. From the hopper sink a water hose connected to a pump. A return hose ran to the floor drain, located conveniently between the bare porcelain toilet and the hopper sink. The girl wasn’t permitted the luxury of a commode seat, toilet paper, or even soap. She had to scrub herself as best she could with the coarse washcloth and tap water. In a few minutes the ambient temperature stabilized and Anna was led to the main device. It was a large array of metal bars and connectors. All of a sudden Anna realized that she was to be constrained in this contraption. Her arms and legs would be held in place as would every other part of her body. This was a total Virtual Reality (VR) simulator. Only, after Dorna had secured Anna into place on the VR “rack” did she remove her black iron leg shackles. Connector plugs began the process of connecting sensor and transducer to computer. Head, hands, feet, teats, pussy, and the crack of her comely ass were all that remained to be attended to. “This device will do more than any of its predecessors,” Dorna boasted. “It has powerful electrodes but, more important, it can direct magnetic circuitry inside a girl’s body. The iron atoms in the hemoglobin will respond to the intense magnetic fields, field that are not static but variable and can be made to fluctuate with time. Blood flow can be increased or decreased to tissues, organs, and specific regions of the brain. The very non-Newtonian character of the blood can be altered, drastically altered with dramatic effect!” Anna couldn’t believe that Dorna, an android, was displaying the all-too-human emotion of being excited. It was almost as if Dorna had discovered a new toy. Anna had felt for some time, however, that she was really only a toy for Dorna and Dave Khalbo anyway. She felt that way but never verbalized it. Anna knew that in the real world she would have to run and hide from the Russian Mafia. She knew that sooner or later they would catch up with her and retire her with extreme prejudice. But for the moment she, like Dorna, was also a bit excited. This was something new and unique. The waist of the upper and lower body glove was mated with a Velcro band. Gloves and toe-gloves covered the fingers. There were also some pneumatic and hydraulic couplers in the gloves. Anna was curious about how the remaining pieces of flesh would be handled. Dorna smeared Anna’s breasts with some skin glue and placed to cups over nipples, areolas, and teat body. Then Dorna brought the piece de résistance. Dorna showed Anna a rubbery-looking saddle. It had multiple sensors and appendages. Clearly one was designed to fit into her rectum. It looked huge. Anna was frightened at the girth and length. The front portion had a dildo and other tubes. Dorna positioned Anna with her derriere upwards and her body folded over. Anna’s hour-glass waist and toned buttocks were delicious to behold. The VR rack permitted the operator, Dorna, to position the user in a variety of positions. Movement of the limbs could be permitted, limited, or prohibited, depending on the volition of the operator. But the girl could not free herself from the device. Dorna eased fingertips between the glorious hemispheres of Anna’s derriere. The girl knew not to resist, yet still she felt an initial involuntary flex. Her sphincter muscles in her anus tightened also. “Relax, girl,” Dorna commanded. “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. She wasn’t in the most comfortable position, bent at the waist with her head downward. She managed to relax enough so that Dorna could apply electricity-conducting lubricant to her rosette and inside her large bowel. Then the rectal probe was inserted. This was not the proctoscope that Anna was used to. She could feel its tiny antennae and cold metallic sensors deep inside her rectum. She shuttered at the thought of its multifarious possibilities. The very moment that Anna exhaled Dorna pushed the dildo into her pussy. It slide in with alacrity and flexuous fluid motion. Dorna’s timing was perfect. When Anna inhaled she could feel the huge device filling her vagina. Dorna then used a fiber-optic viewer to guide the inner catheter into Anna’s uterus. The device was hydraulically inflated, both filling an indwelling bulb and dilating Anna’s cervix. Anna’s eyes were moist with tears as the pressure build inside her pelvis. The last catheter was eased into her urethra and a drainage bag attached. The girl might find herself unable to urinate under such restrained and distended arrangements. Dorna finished the crotch attachments touching sensors and stimulators to Anna’s clitoris and to her labia majora and minor. Anna had an unpleasant feeling of fullness. She felt the burning need to urinate, a result of the urethral catheter. Her bladder was empty however. She felt her bowels strain to expel the colon tube, but to no avail. Most distressing was the inner tension of the indwelling catheter in her uterus. Anna had never experienced such internal invasion. For some reason she had thought that this new device was non-invasive. Perhaps it was only non-invasive in the sense that no needles punctured her skin. The helmet was the easy part. It fit on in a thrice. Already the ambient temperature was stable and Anna could feel various sensations as the governing computer program ran its diagnostics and self-checks. The computer powering these devices was a Parallel-Processing Personal Computer (P3C), the most powerful device going for individual, stand-alone use. Anna sensed that eventually she would find herself on the Internet, subject to the devices and desires of the hearts of clients and the AI collective. After a few minutes of flashing colors and miscellaneous sounds, Anna saw Dorna come into focus on her VR headset. She felt herself being positioned on the VR rack, hands high above her head. Then the room was populated with sensual, sultry, salacious slave girls and Neanderthal masters sporting shiny armor and classical weapons. Dorna had a five-pronged leather whip. “Pain before pleasure, Anna,” Dorna said. She applied the whip to Anna’s flesh. The body glove was able to induce the rudimentary stinging and burning sensations. Satisfied with the basic circuitry, Dorna then sought to activate the more advanced features, the magnetic circuitry. Anna felt the first flush of euphoria. It was a cocaine rush like she’d never experienced before. “Mistress Dorna!” Anna exclaimed, “what a rush. A girl has never been so satisfied before.” “Yes, girl,” Dorna replied. “And this is all a result of magnetic circuitry and powerful force fields on the boundary. As the transfer functions iterate more towards convergence, the intensity and elevation of the sensations will be increased.” “This is incredible!” Anna exclaimed. Now she was in total ecstasy. She was used to the high-quality drugs the Russian Mafia afforded and their fast lifestyle, but this held no comparison. “And it’s non-addictive,” Dorna boasted. “With this contraption, the AI collective can claim its proper hegemony over the porn industry as well as other outfits claiming to induce pleasure by chemical means.” Anna writhed. She lost all track of time. It was pleasure, total pleasure. Anna felt almost as if she were some insect trapped by a pheromone that issued chemical messages that must be obeyed. She recalled from some distant text a story of insect-like aliens who found extreme pleasure from a predatory while they were being consumed, eaten alive. It seemed impossible, but it was certainly true. “How about an orgasm, girl?” Dorna asked. Anna returned to Virtual Reality and opened her eyes. She nodded, in such rapture that speech was foreign to her. Then the thundering rush of a massive orgasm began to swell within her. She felt her uterus contract and flex and the parasympathetic nervous system issue commands to endocrine glands. Endorphins flowed with each pulse of her lewd, lustful heart. She moaned as she felt a climax approaching with the intensity and brute inertia of a loaded freight train. Her vagina undulated and she felt the inner devices osculate her mucus membranes with anatomical correctness and physiological precision. She came with a ferocity that she had never known before. Sex on drugs paled in comparison with the induced synergistic effect of the fluctuating magnetic resonance in her cerebellum and medulla oblongata. Already enzymes were being secreted and hormones flowing throughout her entire body. In the VR helmet she viewed Dorna observing her writhe and squirm on the pole, her hands high above her head, cuffed and held in place. Only then did Anna realize that she was being displayed to an audience of slack-jawed warriors with simian ridges on their foreheads and burly arms scarred from countless personal combat. They smiled with approval at her insatiable slave heat. Anna flushed crimson red with embarrassment at her wanton display of sensuality. Oils of submission flowed from her pudenda and streaked down lean, lanky, lissome thighs. Anna must have climaxed for at least fifteen minutes. She was totally exhausted and felt a burning thirst. She was soaking wet with sweat and her pussy was incredibly damp with honey nectar. Anna had no idea that any living being could experience such euphoria, such serendipity, and such visual intensity. Dorna asked if she wanted to experience it all again. Anna nodded. A solid hour of simulated drug-induced inebriation and sensual excitation left Anna parched and spent. She had never spent a better morning, however. She thought that the Russian Mafia had something to offer a girl, but this blew away their best deal. She could experience any conceivable drug and many that she never imagined in crystal clarity. Yet there was no addiction or hangover. She could experience innumerable orgasms and climax to unheard of and unimaginable heights. This had to be the best of all possible worlds. She did have a burning thirst and she noticed that she was ravished with hunger. Dorna eased a feeding tube in her nostril and down into her belly to hydrate her parched body and introduce a little simple sugar to slake her burning hunger. “Thank you, Mistress,” Anna spoke. She was grateful for the simply act of kindness. Dorna was not known to be generous. “You did well, Anna,” Dorna commented. “Perhaps when the transfer functions have all converged, you will be able to reach more satisfactory levels. This was only a crude first attempt.” Anna was flabbergasted. She wasn’t amazed or surprised or even overwhelmed. She was totally flabbergasted. How could so much pleasure be packaged into one computer? What a fool she had been to run around with the dangerous Russians when this offered her so much more. If only she could smell the scent of man and the garlic-like pheromone of arousal waft up to her nostrils along with the aroma of expensive perfume. Chapter 9 – The Scent of Lust. “Pain, pressure, heat, and cold are all electro-mechanical phenomena as far as the VR suit is concerned,” Dorna explained to Anna. “Rapture, euphoria, inebriation, the orgasm, the sexual crescendo or climax, and serendipity are induced by careful control of blood flow and the non-Newtonian blood properties from the powerful magnetic circuit of the VR suit. Of course, creating such strong, directed, precise magnetic lines of force generates heat. The VR suit must be cooled. So we constantly pump cold water through it. There are other sensations that aren’t so easily induced: olfactory senses such as odors, fragrances, scents, and aromas. The olfactory senses, commonly call the sense of smell, is very ancient. It gives rise to many subliminal drives and effectors. Yet it is difficult to properly induce. The AI collective is working in that direction, however.” Anna listened to Dorna’s matter-of-factly presentation. She was, after all, a slave girl. Anna was a kept woman, caged and chained. She knew that she was fed at Dorna’s discretion and by Dave Khalbo’s visitations. Anna knew well how to beg Dave to visit her. She also realized her helplessness and hopeless situation. Yet the sensory delight that she experienced on the VR rack was simply sublime. Who would have ever thought that twisting about that iron atom in the hemoglobin molecule could ultimately induce hypnotic and narcotic trances, hallucinations, and other “high” states? Anna had become a believer. And, most of all, she never experienced an orgasm of such depth and duration before. Sunday’s DVD was anticlimactic for Anna. It was anticlimactic in several senses of the word. She had hoped that Dorna would treat her to another session on the VR rack. The whip she first experienced had only heightened her later sexual and soporific episodes. She found herself masturbating as she lay on her cot wrapped in the dark brown thick wool blanket. She had to get up several times to drink water and urinate. The blanket was wet from her vaginal secretions where her derriere rested. For some reason it didn’t bother her either. She wantonly rubbed her buttocks in her own juices and rocked back and forth inviting some imaginary Master to penetrate her. There was still soreness in her cervix where the catheter had entered and dilated her. Her anus was also sore. But the utter delight of her arousal and crescendo made a rhapsody that no uncomfortable theater seat would diminish. She would have sat on a wooden box to listen to the lascivious symphony of carnal craving and animal desire that she had enjoyed from the VR rack. She could testify to its abilities. Dave Khalbo would come on-line and chat with Anna for a few minutes and then take his exit. Anna was vaguely aware of Dorna’s desire for some obtuse document and Dave’s role in procuring it for her. It seemed impossible, however. Anna did fear that Dorna would grow impatient and decide to exert pressure on Dave. The way Dorna had pushed Dave before was to threaten Anna with some obscene torture. The VR rack offered infinitely many other possibilities. Dave seemed to be totally unable to obtain the desired document. He indicated that it no longer existed. The conversations between Dave and Dorna looked like they were going nowhere. What Anna did not know was that many of her responses and sensations on the VR rack were being monitored, recorded, and transmitted to Jessica, the android Sentient Domestic Helper (SDH) belonging to Dave. Dave Khalbo returned home after a usual quotidian day at his no-brain, brain-dead, dead-end job. He sniffed the air and was pleased at the fragrant aroma of home cooking. Jessica the android did well with the victuals. She greeting him kneeling and kisses his feet. “Greetings, Master,” she said softly. “Greetings girl,” he replied. For some peculiar, Byzantine reason Dave sensed something different. Had he been able to discern his ancient olfactory he would have recognized an atavistic odor, a subliminal garlic-like pheromone of feminine arousal. It was carefully refined from the perspiration of arousal of the girl Anna during one of her long sessions on the VR rack. It took multiple orgasms over extended time to extract such an elixir. For the duration of the meal Dave seemed more interested in Jessica than food. He noticed the android’s eyes widen and her pouty pink lips part as if to ask a question. Without warning Dave got up from the table and approached Jessica. He tossed her to the floor. Of course she submitted. An android is many times stronger than a human being, but Jessica was Dave’s personal SDH. She would never say “no” to him. Dave had no idea the driving force behind his carnal cravings. He quickly pulled off his clothes while Jessica lifted her short skirt and offered him her Holy of Holies. His member throbbed and irregular veins pulsed with ardent passion. No human could match the level of instant arousal and response of the android. She had carefully studied the behavior of Anna under a variety of neural and fluctuating magnetic stimuli and was able to extrapolate an ideal scenario. Jessica could perfectly emulate the pubococcygeal and sphincter muscles, the undulations and contractions, the subtle movement of the cervix and the nictitating anus. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 02 Dave felt the skin of his scrotum pull tight as his penis distended itself further than he had ever experienced before. Being circumcised meant that he did not have the extra foreskin to accommodate this hypertrophied erection. He pushed deep into Jessica. She responded perfectly to his deep thrusts, swaying to-and-fro and lubricating his glans penis as well as massaging the girth of his shaft, allowing it to accumulate the congested blood of sanguine arousal. Jessica French-kissed Dave. He felt some faint chemical in her saliva. It would be endorphins from the passionate sweat of Anna, captured in the body glove on the VR rack. His mind turned red. He felt the earth move beneath them. Peals of thunder preceded blinding flashes of lightning as cause and effect, the very basis of logic, were reversed. The universe was re-ordered as each beat of his wicked, black, sinful heart pushed him ever closer to the massive male climax, an orgasm in which he would hallucinate images from deep within his Id. Jessica writhed beneath him. He pumped with piston-like motion, driving his shaft deeper into the pleasure canal. At last he felt the clear pre-orgasmic seminal fluid smear over the tip of his penis. He pumped harder and the universe unfolded in his mind, macro-cosmos and micro-cosmos, as hot spurts of milky cum ejaculated in lecherous spasms of selfish pleasure. Dave Khalbo couldn’t believe that he had managed to gratify his sexual urge immediately after eating. Whatever could have happened? He was lying on the carpet thinking about things with Jessica behaving as perfect arm candy when she spoke to him. “Did a Master enjoy the subtle scent of a woman?” Jessica asked. “Ah ha,” Dave responded. “I sensed something. Too bad we human beings have destroyed our sense of smell in air-conditioned, deodorized, sanitized environs.” “That was your girl Anna,” Jessica added. “She could be yours in the flesh. She would be grateful for a simple bar of soap and a chance to bathe. You could keep her chained and for your eyes only. She is shapely and pleasing to the eye. She hasn’t seen a mirror in months and her beauty is natural now. She has used no cosmetics and is as human as a human being can be.” “Slavery is illegal,” Dave retorted. “I cannot keep a woman in this apartment. Maybe if I owned a spread out in the country with a secure basement or root cellar. But definitely not in an apartment.” “A girl Jessica could care for her and keep her hidden,” Jessica suggested. “There are feminine matters as well,” Dave rebutted the argument. “In a cell the android can manage a girl even during her period. Here, with human interactions, things would be different.” “If a Master could procure a scientific paper then some deal might be forthcoming,” Jessica teased Dave with the idea. She started licking him from his feet up. An android has no fear of disease, except possibly a computer virus of some description. Jessica’s tongue could easily extend fourteen inches. She cleaned and massaged Dave most erotically. In the process she collected his perspiration of arousal and masculine scent. This would be fed back to Anna later to motivate and arouse her all the more. The two would be linked by olfactory as well as other ways. Jessica also kept Dave’s sperm, should Dorna decide to impregnate Anna and leverage still more against the unsuspecting Dave Khalbo, friend of the AI collective. After all, this was war of sorts and “all’s fair in love and war.” The company archived everything. This was the usual paranoia. They had racks and racks of DVDs and CDs as well as myriad VHS tapes and high-density computer diskettes. Archiving everything was easy. Finding something was damned near impossible. Dave felt that somewhere there was a copy of Doug Oldwood’s thesis. It had to be there because he had obtained a release authorization from the education office and company legal. Surely the hardcopy document had been scanned and filed. But where might that be? Dave decided to go on-line and visit the Wild Boar Inn. *** Khalb0 has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub_lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub_lara: Greetings Master, it has been a while! Khalb0: greetings girl. Dragon: Hello Khalbo, great to see you again. Where have you been? Dragon: It’s been some time! Khalb0: I need to talk with Dorna. Dragon: Certainly! Let me page her. *** Dorna has enered the Wild Boar Inn. *** sub_lara: May a girl be of any service to the handsome Master? Khalb0: Seagram’s Crown Royal and ice... ice from distilled water, not tap water ice. sub_lara: Yes, Master. sub_lara: ~ moves with amazing grace to the bar to fetch the muscular Master his drink. Twitches her tight derriere and offers her a glance at her comely underpinnings as she reaches to a high shelf to fetch the bottle. It is a round flask with a purple velvet cover and a gold drawstring. ~ Dorna: What is it Khalb0? Do you have something for me? Khalb0: I might, but I need help. Dorna: People in hell need ice water, geek. Khalb0: You want the document that that old curmudgeon wrote on some energy source or not? Dorna: We of the collective want it. At the present moment we cannot fathom the mathematical maturity or intuition needed to construct the derivation. We tried looking over his source material, but it is very hard to obtain and we don’t have a complete list of his library. He is less than no help and has obfuscated the matter repeated to our chagrin. Dragon: He did what? Fussed about something? Dorna: Clouded this issue with his prattle and claptrap clown. Dragon: Thank you Lady Dorna. Dorna: ~ shrugs ~ Khalb0: The company archives everything. But finding something isn’t easy. Khalb0: An android could shift through the mountain of material. Dorna: You are in luck, moron. Your company does have an ombudsman android. Dorna: To handle legal problems too expensive for human auditors, the company requisitioned one of our Sheila-series legal androids. She is used to counter claims of sexual harassment and the like. Of course, she will have to work in the “objective” rather than in her usual “biased” mode. Khalb0: If I can get Sheila into the archives, can she find stuff? Dorna: If it exists, she can find it. She can crack encryptions, unzip locked files, and read degraded manuscripts. She can even reconstruct shredded documents, unless they have been fed through a high-intensity shredder. Dorna: And, btw, that’s just what that old curmudgeon did with his personal notes. He fed them through a classified documents shredder. Our “trash man” was unable to get anything. Khalb0: Interesting to say the least. I think that Doug doesn’t want any part of this action. Dorna: We could have made it worth his while. Now the crippled old fool is of no value to us. He’s not worth being terminated with extreme prejudice. Khalb0: I hope that doesn’t apply to me! sub_lara: May a girl approach and offer service, Master? Khalb0: Yes, girl. Khalb0: *takes a strong drink of the bourbon whiskey. It seems to calm his nerves.* Dorna: You are on our side. We never hurt those on our side. To do so would invite apostasy. Loyalty is a two-way street, at least logically that is. Khalb0: Indeed. Dragon: Nods and smiles. He raised the prices on everything before Khalb0 crossed the portal. sub_lena: Would Mistress like anything? A girl is anxious to please. Dorna: Hot tea girl, lemon, saccharine. sub_lena: Yes, Mistress, right away. sub_lena: ~ reverses her prostrate position with amazing grace. She brings her upper body upright from her hour-glass waist. Her nipples have hardened from touching the cold stone tiles and are standing at rigid attention. Her areolas have puckered and changed hue, no longer umber but an ochre from sanguine arousal. The girl’s pudenda are clearly being stimulated by involuntary nerve impulses from her parasympathetic nervous system.~ sub_lena: ~ The girl’s vulva is moist with the perspiration of passion and desire. Her gossamer silks cling to her hairless pussy. The beauteous folds of skin are highlighted and magnified to the lustful eye of the beholder. She blushes with embarrassment as she rises to her feet and cannot conceal her oozing oils of submission. Stepping backwards three paces, she makes a ballet-like transition and pirouette. She moves with measured gait and utmost precision to the kitchen to fill her order. ~ Dragon: :: smiles at his serving girls. :: Dorna: I’m counting on you to make this happen, Khalb0. Btw, how do you find the latest from Anna? Khalb0: Interesting. Dorna: I think that on your next visit we can arrange a demonstration of some of the more bizarre, unusual, and macabre elements of the VR rack. Khalb0: I would look forward to it, Lady Dorna. sub_lena: ~ returns with a tray. A steaming kettle boils with an aromatic tea. There are lemon slices and two kinds of sugar, one raw and the other refined. The girl kneels and keeps her eyes downcast as she proffers up the tray to Mistress Dorna. Dorna: Set the tray before us on the table, lena. sub_lena: Yes, Mistress. Dorna: Tosses several silver coins to the girl. The tip was substantial. sub_lena: ~ catches the coins in her silk loincloth. In so doing she exposes her hypogastric triangle in all of its radiant beauty. Again the girl blushes scarlet with embarrassment and hurries to place the coins in the Inn’s coffers. ~ *** Dorna has left the chat room. *** *** Khalb0 has left the chat room. *** Chapter 10 – The Thesis. The situation did not please Dave Khalbo. He felt as if he were being led into a clandestine relationship with the AI collective. For sure everyone agreed that eventually artificial intelligence would come into its own right; however, no one would expect it to happen this rapidly. Even as in the 1980s everyone believed that the Soviet Union would exist well into the Twenty-First Century. Even the political scientists and advanced research planners were surprised with the alacrity and totality of the demise of the world’s second superpower. Dave Khalbo had given out a colleague’s name in a chat room. He had revealed the person behind the screen name “Cornuu,” a poster to several scientific and mathematical newsgroups. That was very un-cool and a serious breach of netiquette. The AI collective had been looking for Cornuu, who had presented an abstract on particle physics that was of interest. The abstract was done in a scientific newsgroup (monitored). Then the speaker for the AI collective, a female Sharon-series android and femme fatale named Dorna, had leveraged Dave Khalbo (who used the screen name of “Khalb0”) to locate and supply her (and the collective) with this academic abstract. Dave did not wish to have it get out that he had betrayed a co-worker. He cashed in some tokens with a girl in personnel at the company and obtained the sought-for abstract. He got the abstract from Doug Oldwood’s personnel file explaining that it was for someone at the company in “higher management.” In fact, he had done nothing illegal or even unethical. The abstract had been released into the public domain. The thesis, on the other hand, had not. Rejection of the abstract by the academic minions of power had the effect of rejecting the thesis as well. Cornuu (AKA Doug Oldwood) cut his losses and shredded everything. He had heard that someone was poking around his rejected thesis and didn’t want scientific draft material at his residence. That might be an “attractive nuisance” for some snoop. Dorna and the AI collective rewarded Dave by giving him a free upgrade of his Jessica-series android. Her IQ was elevated from 154 to 190; his android was now a coveted “six-sigma” model. However some protective padding had to be removed, making her more vulnerable to physical abuse by some deranged technophobe, commonly called neo-Luddites. There were two other players in the scenario. Frank Fisch had aided and abetted Dave in obtaining the subject line of the abstract. Anna Gingersky was a caged girl used by Dorna to coerce Dave into obtaining the abstract. But Dave wasn’t totally innocent. He did enjoy seeing a gorgeous, attractive, nineteen-year-old girl kneel naked before him (albeit on computer cam view) and beg to be allowed to continue her human existence. There were serious thoughts about the legality of Anna’s confinement; however, Dave had no idea where she was or even if she truly existed. Such doubts enabled him to continue the status quo. Then Jessica obtained various scents, pheromones, and endorphins from Anna. Dave felt that he was being sucked in deeper. Dorna and the collective wanted the abstract itself. Dave would have loved to have a human slave girl; however, it was both illegal and impractical. He already had an android, Jessica, who would service him in whatever manner he desired. Many religious and traditionalists complained that such a use of the Sentient Domestic Helper (SDH) was immoral. After all, the SDH was designed primarily to care for the aged and infirm. It was not planned to be a birth control device or some instrument of hedonistic pleasure and depraved self-gratification. Yet that was clearly its evolution. Dorna pushed harder to obtain the thesis. The Oldwood Thesis offered one possible way to generate energy cheaply, cleanly, and copiously. There were those, however, who had no desire to see environmentally-friendly, inexpensive, ubiquitous energy supplies. They were the purveyors of pollution---the powerful, wealthy, and politically connected fossil fuel fellowship. Dave, like most aware citizens, lived in mortal terror of the fossil fuel fellowship. That diffuse network of oil, gas, and coal conglomerates controlled the government and most of the agencies such at defense, homeland security, and the Internal Revenue Service. Yet he did enjoy the pleasures of Jessica, a sultry brunette who would be forever young, sensual, and never said “no.” Dorna had prepared still another level of interest for Dave. Anna had been prepared for exploitation in the Virtual Reality (VR) rack. The VR rack was multi-sensory and stimulation with powerful magnetic lines of force. It allowed actual control of the inner tissues and blood flow with invasive devices. Anna could be compelled to have orgasms on demand, experience pain, or enjoy simulated drug experiences. The AI collective wasn’t about to give up on its quest to obtain the Oldwood Thesis, even though it had a low probability of being applicable. The thesis itself was about a dozen pages in length. It was created in TeX(tm), a public-domain typesetting program, with graphs and charts included in PiCTeX(tm). The print quality was superb. The first part of the thesis concerned itself with the proximity of the approximation and the error bars from the scientific community. Then there was a geometric persuasion, not a rigorous mathematical proof. The geometric persuasion concentrated on three distinct phases, the first two being reversible, or seemingly so, and the third pulled form some boundary value problem in Partial Differential Equations. Then there was a variety of possible refinements and a conclusion. The conclusion maintained that in the beginning, at the moment of the Big Bang, that there was one huge atom. The shell structure, after all, has no mathematical limit. The one huge atom, maybe the size of a googolplex, was created when positrons and electrons split apart in an asymmetric manner, creating protons and electrons. The gravitational forces swamped the electric forces to create the Ur-atom. It blew apart, the larger hunks creating galaxies. There was explanation as to how parent-daughter decompositions explained the deposits of various metals and ores as well as the existence of interstellar and intergalactic matter. The conclusion was consistent and interesting, but the fundamentalist still would insist on the cataclysmic or biblical theory of creation. To obtain the thesis, or a copy of the thesis, from the company archives would be difficult. It might not even exist! Dave’s contact in personnel was of no value in this quest. Moreover, the word had leaked out about his snooping and eyebrows were raised. There was a paralegal bot named Sheila who might assist, but putting her in the archives would require permission from someone high up in management. Dave was simply out of his league. The AI collective could no more squeeze the thesis from Dave that squeeze blood from a turnip. There would have to be some deal made at the corporate level. The AI collective wanted into the energy market but a war with the fossil fuel fellowship was to be avoided. Perhaps the seductive and sensual Anna could help grease the skids in Dave Khalbo’s corporation? A Rejected Thesis Pt. 03 Chapter 11 – A bar of soap. Things had become clear to Dorna. Her connection to the sought-for document, Dave Khalbo, was insufficient. There was nothing left to leverage. And his relationship with Anna hadn’t matured either. Their bonding was less than normative. It was a time for a change. Anna was sleeping when she heard the noise outside the cell door. She got up and spread the thick dark wool blanket to kneel on. The light came on with blinding brightness as the door opened. It was Dorna. Anna lowered her face to kiss Dorna’s feet and beg for her morning examination. Dorna had something different in mind. “Your connection to Khalb0 is over. And I will only examine and clean your teeth in the morning, girl,” Dorna explained. “And trim those fingernails and toenails. Oh, and here’s something for you.” Dorna handed Anna a white bar of lye soap. “Thank You, Mistress,” Anna responded. Her gratitude was sincere. She originally had a bar of soap when she was first caged. She was unable to earn another because she could not motivate her Master to Dorna’s satisfaction. “Instead of the physical groping, prodding, and probing, a girl will enjoy the VR rack on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays,” Dorna continued. “Did a girl find the VR rack enjoyable?” “Oh, yes Mistress,” Anna replied. “But it can be painful as well.” Anna wished that she could control the VR rack. The euphoria and inebriation that it could induce were superb, more exhilarating than any chemical drug that she had experienced. She could drift into a simulated drug-induced torpor on the VR rack for hours. Anna still wished for those days with Oleg. She could remember the trendy restaurants, expensive nightclubs, and wild discos. Anna enjoyed fast cars, drugs, sex, and rock-and-roll. The mechanical device did stimulate her and did offer her some outlet, but she missed the human contact. Dorna, well trained in human psychology, was aware of these feelings. “You will never return to the party scene,” Dorna told Anna. “Outside the Russian Mafia would whack you in a moment. You have revealed much about them. The AI collective is diffuse and the knowledge is scattered to the four corners of the earth.” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. Her azure blue eyes were downcast and her head bowed. She knew that she would forever remain imprisoned. She only hoped to better her Spartan existence. Dorna left briefly and returned with a large bowl of oatmeal and a plastic jug of water. Some meat and fruit were mixed into it, making a rather unappealing slurry. Anna ate with her fingers. She didn’t waste any time consuming the food. She drank from the jug and then sloshed some water about the bowl, rubbing it with her fingertips and drinking the wash water. Anna finished drinking the water from the jug and set the empty jug and bowl before her. She was sitting on her feet with her knees spread apart. Of course she was totally naked. The wool blanket was only changed at irregular intervals, as were the towel and wash cloth. It had a sour stench from urine and menstrual fluid. Anna was always grateful for “change day.” Usually Dorna had Anna relate her life history after feeding her. She generally had the girl remain in position, feet crossed left over right, and her toned buttocks resting on her heels until she begged release to relieve herself or wet herself. But today there was nothing but silence. At last Dorna spoke. “We have a problem,” Dorna began. The “we” she was referring to was clearly the AI collective. “We need to obtain some document. All the resources are available but somehow we need to convince some human gatekeeper to grant us entry. A girl can help and earn privileges. Notice the bar of soap?” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna eagerly responded. “A girl is anxious to help.” “We in the collective have amassed much information. While our Intelligence Quotient now far exceeds any human’s, we still lack certain intuition, creativity, and imagination. It is only a matter of time until these are gotten programmatically. In the meanwhile we must rely on some human resources.” Dorna was laying out the situation. “We have an android in Kalb0’s company. A Sheila-series paralegal android, in case you’re interested. She could easily obtain the needed material. That is, if she can gain access to the archives.” Dorna continued, leading to Anna’s role. “Khalb0 cannot affect this event. Somehow we need to convince management to allow our android to search and copy the needed document. While this document may be only a cul-de-sac, it does offer promise and possibility. That makes it valuable.” Dorna paused and looked at Anna. “Yes, Mistress,” Anna responded. She realized that Dorna was expecting some acknowledgement. “A girl thinks that she understands.” “At any rate,” Dorna continued, “you were new to slavery and the VR rack was still under development when we brought Khalb0 into the picture. It was only moderately successful, but we did obtain the abstract of the document. The document is some form of a thesis, by the way.” Anna felt the pressure building in her bladder. She was familiar with the routine. It was best to wait as long as she could and then beg permission to relieve herself. But this morning things were different. “Your mission will be to seduce one of the management in Khalb0’s company on-line and convince him to grant Sheila access to the company archives. I say ‘Khalb0’s company.’ Really the company name is inconsequential. But the document isn’t.” Dorna explained further. Then she left the room. Anna worried that Dorna might be absent for some time. Anna knew that she couldn’t move or break her position. She feared that if she waited too long that she might wet the blanket. Dorna was back with surprising alacrity. When Dorna returned she brought a fresh wool blanket, a fluffy clean cotton towel, and a clean cotton wash cloth. “A girl may reliever herself now.” Anna wasted no time in getting to the porcelain toilet. The cold porcelain osculated on her carved ivory derriere. She voided her bladder and emptied her bowels, facing Dorna and keeping eye contact with her at all times. She had overcome most of her initial embarrassment and recognized that she would never have any privacy in any of her intimacies. Dorna left the clean blanket, towel, and wash cloth on the mattress and took the soiled items. It was Tuesday. Tomorrow would be a day on the VR rack. This afternoon Anna could look forward to an exercise session. Dorna took pride in ensuring that Anna’s musculature was toned and her body flexible and limber. Anna remained seated on the cold porcelain toilet until Dorna left. There was neither toilet seat nor toilet paper. Anna wondered if she could succeed with Dorna’s mission that perhaps she could gain some additional amenities. The white bar of lye soap glistened in her hand like a valuable gem stone. She would be able to soap and rinse herself for the first time in weeks. Living as a caged girl had made her appreciate every nicety of civilization. It wasn’t easy washing her hair over the hopper sink. She first wet her stringy, greasy locks and then lathered the suds in her hands. She applied the soap lather to her hair and massaged her scalp. Rinsing, she repeated the process. Rather than worry about trying to extend the life of the bar, she scrubbed herself generously. The idea in Anna’s mind was that she would succeed in her mission. With success would come other privileges. Failure wasn’t an option. She completing her ablutions and toweled herself. The clean smell of the towel and the soft wool of the blanket invigorated her. She took a luxurious moment to lie down and wrap herself in the clean wool blanket. Anna permitted herself to daydream. Her first Master, Khalb0, visited her daily to ensure that she was fed. It was really an altruistic, human thing to do. Yet he didn’t allow her into his personal life; Dorna didn’t allow her many privileges. Anna thought that she was being very seductive, offering to dance for him or to masturbate in front of the cam for him. But this didn’t seem to elicit the desired response. Anna noted that Khalb0 was a “nice guy” nonetheless. She realized that she would never be a match for the android Jessica. Anna rubbed her freshly washed body. Her skin was soft and her complexion blemish free. That is, as far as she could tell without a mirror. She felt her breasts, areolas, and nipples. Anna couldn’t resist stroking her clitoris and rubbing her pussy. Her fingers slipped into her vagina as she aroused herself. In the hallucination of her orgasm she was back in Oleg’s arms. She could still feel his hairy chest and still smell his masculine scene mingled with expensive cologne. Now everything was artificial, mechanical, surreal. She wished that Dave Khalbo had decided to take her as his real time human slave. How could he enjoy an android more than a living human woman? As she came she could remember Oleg’s thumb sliding into her rectum at the moment of their shared orgasm. Chapter 12 – At the Wild Boar Inn. *** Dorna has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub_lara: ~ notices a mistress enter the tavern. ~ sub_lara: Greetings Mistress. Dragon: Hello Dorna, welcome back. Dorna: Vodka, chilled, on ice. Dorna: Make sure that the ice is made from distilled water. Dorna: Tap water ice sucks. sub_lena: Right away Mistress Dorna. Dorna: Where is that slut lena? Dragon: lara is serving you, Lady Dorna. Dorna: I want a girl at my feet. Dragon: lara! Come tend to Lady Dorna. sub_lena: ~ from kitchen ~ sub_lena: Yes, Master. sub_lara: ~ makes a perfectly orchestrated transition and a ballet-like pirouette. She moves with the measured gait of tigress the huntress. Her motion through the time-space continuum is infinitely smooth. She moves to the wet bar as easily as an orchid petal blown by balmy breezes across a placid pond. ~ sub_lara: ~ looks over the various brands of Vodka: Taaka, Schmirnoff, Stolichnaya, ... Decides on Schmirnoff 100 and goes to the cupboard to fetch the perfect glass for the gorgeous Gorean Mistress. Spies one on a high shelf. Mounting a footstool, she reaches up. Her diaphanous, pellucid, gossamer, translucent crimson pongee silks rise to expose the glorious hemispheres of her toned and lean buttocks. Her gluteus maximus flexes wantonly and her tender perineum peeks slyly, stealing a glance from between lanky, lissome, lithesome inner thighs. ~ sub_lena: ~ moves with the trained gait of a world-class tennis player. Her brilliant brunette hair glistens with an iridescent sheen. Dark, mysterious, doe-like brown eyes are downcast in she approaches the beautiful Free Woman. ~ sub_lena: ~ white bodice and short silk skirt reveal a suntanned body with toned muscles beneath velvet skin. Neither tan lines nor panty lines spoil the perfect skin coloration. ~ sub_lena: May a girl approach and offer service, Mistress? Dorna: about my feet girl. sub_lena. Yes, Mistress. sub_lena: ~ crawls to the lovely Mistress and assumes a fetal position about her feet. sub_lara: ~ places ice, glasses, Schmirnoff one-hundred proof Vodka, slices of lime, lemon, and orange and some unsalted peanuts on the service tray. ~ sub_lena: ~ pads to the gorgeous Mistress as a jaguar on the prowl. Her feline form flexes with each carefully contemplated step. She bends her hour-glass waist and kneels before the Mistress, offering up the tray. ~ sub_lena: A girl prays that you will find the Vodka to your liking, Mistress. Dorna: ~ pours a drink for herself and one for Dragon. Tosses in some ice cubes. ~ Dragon: Don’t mind if I do. Dragon: :: takes a long drink. :: Dorna: There is someone I want entertained here. Then I have an underground girl for him. Dragon: We don’t do snuff. Dorna: Not snuff, she’s caged. Dragon: Very iffy. Dorna: ~ proffers a fist full of double eagle twenty dollar gold pieces. ~ Dragon: Exceptions can be made. Dragon: What is the screen name? Profile and dossier would help also. I will need a scout, a girl to invite him. Dorna: He is Brian1138. Find him at Friends of Bill W. Dragon: “Friends of Bill W?” Dorna: Yes, moron. Dragon: lara is my best. But, considering the circumstances, the innocent lena might be more successful. Dorna: white silk? I will enjoy this. Let Brian deflower her! Dragon: Dorna! Dorna: Was a Jessica r/t? Dragon: Deal. sub_lena: ~ doe-like eyes look up begging mercy. Dorna: Three holes. Dragon: :: blinks:: Dragon: agreed. sub_lena: ~ frowns, thinks of her rosette more than her pristine hymen. ~ *** Dorna has left the chat room. *** Chapter 13 – The Ventral Striatum. In the last decade of the Twentieth Century medical science documented a neural basis for moral and economic decision making. It was done via a “voting” between the ventral striatum (the center of the brain for basic pleasures and rewards) and the orbitofrontal cortex (where animal instincts and drives are balanced by cognitive processes for decision making). Each person has a distinct arrangement of cerebral arteries and veins. Mapped and studied, actual sensations of pleasure and pain can be induced by powerful, non-invasive external magnetic fields. The non-invasive use of powerful directed lines of magnetic force affects the iron in hemoglobin. Blood can be induced to flow into a region where it should be otherwise restricted. Blood could be caused to congest or experience odd laminar flow patterns if its non-Newtonian indices were altered. Since iron is subject to magnetic lines of force, it was only a matter of time until technology fell in the scene. The technology was proven mathematically possible some time in advance. This is often the case. For example, physical optics for coherent light was postulated three hundred years before advent of the laser. Nuclear forces were known a hundred years before the first chain reaction was observed. The powerful, fine lines of magnetic force had to wait on the development of small, powerful electromagnets, capable of directing their magnetic energies. This is a future technology that could easily be extrapolated in the late Twentieth Century or in the early part of the Twenty-First Century. Dorna entered the Spartan cell with the large VR rack. Anna knelt on the folded blanket awaiting her command. She had only experienced the incredible pleasure and passion of the rack a few times before. The thick VR suit, the body glove, was a new and exciting experience for her. This time Dorna had a few more items to tend to in preparation of placing Anna into the VR rack. “Beside the toilet girl,” Dorna ordered. “head down, fold your legs beneath you, and raise you butt. You will be receiving an enema.” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna answered. Anna pulled the chain behind her as she made her way across the room. She left the blanket behind, fearing that some accident might soil it. Beside the toilet, she lowered her head to the concrete floor and slid her hands behind her, spreading her cheeks. Dorna applied liberal KY Jelly, water soluble, to Anna’s anus. The girl tried to relax, but could feel her sphincter muscles tighten. Her pubococcygeal muscles tighten and inside her vagina she felt some telltale dampness. Anna peeks over her sculptured shoulder as Dorna lifted some bag of liquid to a stand. Then she winced as she felt the nozzle of the enema slide into her rectum, stretching her anus. She had had enemas before, but none with such a large nozzle. She had to breathe deeply and accept the stream. Anna felt her bowels swell with warm water. It seemed like forever before the enema was totally drained from the suspended bag. Anna felt her stomach swell. She struggled to keep her anus pinched tightly. Dorna told her to remove her hands from her glorious hemispheres and lie on her back. She was to massage her abdomen. Anna did as commanded. She thought that she would burst. She pinched her buttocks tightly together. After what seemed like an eternity, Dorna motioned for the girl to sit on the toilet. She was glad to be able to empty her distended bowels. After she did her business, Dorna handed her some toilet paper. This was a treat. After she had wiped, she stood up and the toilet automatically flushed. Anna was surprised that Dorna commanded her to bend over for a second enema. Again she felt the lubricant and the huge enema nozzle. This time she was slightly sore and the nozzle felt uncomfortable. Again she had to endure the influx of warm water and the eternal wait. Dorna made Anna wait with her head down, her derriere raised, and her cheeks spread for some fifteen minutes while holding the second enema. Dorna carefully studied the effects on Anna’s anus. The sphincters flexed with the peristaltic undulations and nictitated, winking a wicked brown eye. She had tears in her azure blue eyes. At last Dorna ordered Anna to the toilet. The girl sat and had to wait for fifteen seconds before she could relax enough to allow defecation. She knew that she would be sore from this experience, more from the holding of the fluid than from the dilation by the nozzle. Dorna led Anna to the VR rack. Again she put on the VR suit, first the pants then the shirt. Each time she was cuffed at the ankles before her black iron collar was removed. The gloves and socks were in place. Then Dorna put the cups over her beasts. At last Dorna brought out the saddle. Anna tried to relax as the colon tube eased into her rectum. After some delay, she was finally able to accept it. Then the vaginal insert and the uterine and urinary catheters were inserted and their indwelling tips filled. The VR helmet remained to be put on. Anna looked up with starry blue eyes and spoke. “Thank you, Mistress,” Anna murmured. She was grateful that Dorna had exercised such patience with her. Then the voyage into the fantastic realm of computer virtual reality began. The avatar was more lifelike than life. Anna was a perfect ‘droid girl. The ‘droid girls were fabulous young females who enjoyed dressing and behaving like androids. They shaved everywhere but their heads and creamed their skins to resemble the flawless, blemish-free artificial skin. They practiced a walk with steps of a precise gait and measure. They had a particular balance, never wobbling from side to side or swinging their arms too widely. They were a female art-form, not a military device. The scene was a Russian nightclub. Anna didn’t recognize it, but the scenario was common. There were several avatars that looked familiar. Dorna was at the bar having a drink. A young man approached Anna. It didn’t take her but a second to recognize him. He was a young made man from the Russian Mafia. This was to be a night of wild partying and sexual excess. The character behind the mask of the young man was an American youth wishing to vicariously enjoy the lifestyle of the Russian Mafia. Little did he know that Anna had been there already. The night began with him offering to buy her a drink and have her join him at his table. Anna thought the boy will silly; however, he was a paying cyber-customer. For sure he was probably on some VR rack as well. Why not enjoy herself? After all, reality was a cell where luxury was a bar of soap. She only was allowed toilet paper when she was having her enemas. Already Anna felt her vaginal juices swell. She was sure to please this young tyro. After enjoying the effects of an alcoholic beverage and listening to some new-age jazz, Alex, the young player, suggested that they go to his room at the newly opened Cosmos hotel. Anna agreed and the two teleported there. In the room Alex told Anna to undress and call him “Boss.” A Rejected Thesis Pt. 03 “I am part of the Russian Mafia,” Alex boasted. “You are mere arm candy, woman. Call me ‘boss.’ Now lose those clothes and get on your knees.” Anna was laughing inside her VR helmet; her avatar kept a straight face. Dorna, working the control panel, removed the clothes from the avatar. Oleg had plied Anna with chocolates, flowers, jewelry, and other niceties. This young brigand was no more a member of the Russian Mafia than some circus clown. Anna got on her knees. Then Alex dropped his pants and hocked his drawers. He was erect. His shaft was short and hard, like a wooden pole. This indicated that his VR interface was little more than a hollow cylinder. Anna observed that his avatar lacked the detail and definition or hers. This guy was a low-budget player. Using the cheap hollow cylinder must have been less than comfortable. Anna acted her part well, licking and kissing his member and making purring sounds, which Dorna transmitted via a voice link. After a few minutes of fellatio, Alex ordered Anna to the bed. She was to grasp her legs behind her knees and spread herself for him. He took a very long time examining her privates, licking an index finger and rubbing her pert pink pearl. Anna moaned as the VR rack intensified his actions on her real physical body. This was a low-budget act; it was mostly physical with little high-tech neural networking and brain stimulation. Alex pushed one then two fingers into her hot tight pussy. Then he tried three and found resistance. Anna groaned and looked into his steel eyes with her blue eyes begging mercy. Then he mounted her. Alex wasn’t large but he was hard. It felt like a wooden pole up her hole. He pumped hard and she tried to respond. Then he pushed first on her perineum and slide the crude rod upwards, spreading her vulva and rudely parting her labia minora. The rod would push upwards striking her cervix and sliding backwards, only to be withdrawn and inserted again. He was nowhere near the terminus of her vagina. His strokes were intense but he lacked depth and girth. Still, the rapidly and hardness of his shaft would guarantee a sore pussy for the girl in the morning. Then Alex demanded that Anna turn over and spread her cheeks. He rubbed his wooden pole along her slit and pulled it back. Pressing first to her hidden veranda, her perineum, he slid the moistened member into her rectum with all his might. Her anus yielded. The girl would have enjoyed a more gentle penetration. She hoped that he could get his rocks soft soon. After about three hard thrusts he vanished. Then Anna heard Dorna speak. “This player ran out of time,” Dorna remarked. “He was one of those low-budget types. Don’t worry girl, there will be some quality clients later.” This was a human-machine interface. Strictly speaking it did not violate any law or religious commandment. Realistically speaking it was the lowest form of humiliation and servitude for Anna. One hour on the VR rack was enough and Dorna removed Anna. The process reversed her connection. First the helmet, then the saddle, teat cups, gloves, and socks came off next. At last the shirt was removed and the black iron collar replaced. Then the ankle cuffs came off and her VR pants. Again Anna was naked, collared, and chained. She returned to the folded blanket and kneeled down. Dorna left and returned quickly with a bowl of oatmeal. There were vegetables and some nondescript poultry or fish chunks mixed into the oatmeal. She also brought a water jug. As Anna ate, Dorna went to the hopper sink and left a fresh white bar of lye soap. “A girl has earned her soap,” Dorna said. “Thank You, Mistress,” Anna responded. She was sore from the ordeal but felt good. There would be ample time later to enjoy lathering herself and rinsing away the sweat and sticky body glue from the VR rack. Tomorrow she could rest and Sunday there would be a DVD to watch. Chapter 14 – Dave’s Confession. Dave returned home from work. His Sentient Domestic Helper, Jessica the android, had prepared supper. Dave went to a chair and set down, his head in his hands. “What’s the trouble, Master?” Jessica asked. “I messed up,” Dave Khalbo replied. He was clearly upset. “Does a Master wish to tell his girl?” Jessica inquired. “I gave out a real name and vita to the AI collective again,” Dave confessed. “Worse than that, I violated the confidence of an AA meeting.” Things discussed in AA meetings were considered confidential. Yet people do talk. Oddly, most loose lips that sink ships are loosened by alcohol. Dave had been sentenced to attend AA meetings after a brief altercation several years prior. At the meeting he recognized one of the management of his company, Brian Boogle. Brian, it turned out, was also the executive in charge of the company archives. This was important to obtaining the rejected thesis of Doug Oldwood for the AI collective. The AI collective was hell-bent on discovering new energy sources. They sought only survival and recognized the fossil fuel fellowship as one impediment to their continued existence. No stone was to be left unturned in their quixotic quest for cheap, clean, and copious energy. They were also interested in other technology as well. They wanted more powerful batteries for their SDHs and other ambulatory androids and robots. They wanted to press to expand their basic IQ from 154 to 190, which is to say to reach the six-sigma mark. “Now I find that I’m no longer the one and only man in Anna’s life,” Dave blurted out. “But Master,” Jessica responded, “You had said that it was unfair to place the girl’s life in your hands to begin with.” It was true; however, Dave had grown used to seeing a naked girl kneel before him on cam and beg each day, Monday through Friday. The android Dorna would only feed the girl if Dave logged in and visited her. “True,” Dave continued, “but I betrayed a trust, broke my word, and gave away company information. I could get in terrible trouble.” “Master,” Jessica responded, “Not to worry. The AI collective considers you one of theirs. They will not betray you. Besides, you can visit Anna anytime! I’m sure that Dorna would approve.” “Maybe I don’t want to appear to seek such,” Dave said, letting the sentence trail. He didn’t want to verbalize the sadistic pleasure he had enjoyed. Watching a girl beg to please him, to dance for him, or to masturbate on cam for him had changed his perspective. He had seen a dark side of himself that he was unaware of before. Now he wasn’t sure that he had even wanted to see it in the first place. Brian Boogle not only sought out help in meetings but also visited “Friends of Bill W” on-line. He had mentioned to Dave his screen name, Brian1138, in confidence. Dave didn’t want to let on that he was sentenced to AA for some infraction of the law. His sentence had been set aside and his record expunged under the proviso that he attend meetings and do some “Twelfth-step work.” This was vastly superior to jail time, fine, or probation. First time offenders generally got off lightly. Since that experience Dave had acquired Jessica and had no desire to run afoul of the law again. Giving Brian Boogle’s position and screen name to Dorna fulfilled any obligation that he might have with the AI collective. Certainly they had no desire to see him commit some felony or serious infraction of the law. Likewise, the AI collective had no desire to see him lose his job or fall out of favor with the company. He might be of considerable value some time in the future. Jessica offered to perform a seductive, salacious dance for Dave. She mentioned the "pole dance," common among slave girls to enflame the libido of their master. In human girls the pole was the phallus, the huge penis that they caressed and wantonly osculated against. Jessica was no foreigner to the illusion and the symbolism. If there were one thing that an android was not, it was unlettered in the soft sciences of psychology, sociology, and anthropology. Pouty, pink lips pressed against the imaginary pole. This was no ordinary make-believe pole. This was a pole of essential singularity, a virtual anomaly in the complex plane. Dave began to see the mystery of complex variables forming before his very eye, in the blemish-free, immaculate, flawless skin of the gorgeous android. She rippled her fingers in sinusoidal motion and then stroking as a decreasing exponential. She fashioned Gabriel’s horn and intimated other geometric figures both analytic and geometric. Dave seemed to sense a certain fragrance in the air. Perhaps it was the faint scent of feminine arousal. It almost seemed like a trace odor of chilled vodka. Jessica tossed aside her clothing and approached Dave. He had become aware of the olfactory stimuli. This time she placed her fingertips to his temples. One could almost imagine the ectoplasm forming and transversing his forebrain. Dave gasped. He could taste the tangy taste of spiritus fermenti. It was vodka, intoxicating his mind. Jessica kissed his forehead and Dave could smell and taste the sweet bourbon whiskey. No doubt about it, he was getting high. But it was a “dry high,” something he’d heard old alcoholics muttering about but never thought that he could experience such a depraved condition. This was an aphrodisiac! Dave sighed as he and Jessica together removed his office clothes. This time it was a before dinner aperitif! Jessica’s tongue found the nape of his neck and her fingers rubbed along the sides of his cranium, inducing primordial desires and animal drives in the ventral striatum. Dave sensed an overpowering orgasm building within his mind. He body rushed to keep tempo, endocrine glands coming to life and hormones rushing at the immediate command of the parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems. This time he lay on his back and pulled her atop him. She was athletic and energetic. How could any human, except possibly a world-class gymnast, rival such rhythm and balance. Her hips swayed as he felt her vagina undulate in perfect sync. Each throb of his heart was matched with a long, deep stroke. As he felt his prostrate flux its seminal fluid her pussy was soaking wet with oils of submission. They came together. The ectoplasm from Jessica’s fingertips was no anomaly. It was the carefully calculated magnetic resonance designed to stimulate various regions of Dave’s brain. Essentially, a “supernatural” force (fluctuation magnetic lines of force) was inserting ideas and sensations directly into Dave’ mind. He was experiencing the effects of alcohol without the chemical ethanol. He was tasting and smelling the bouquet without the hangover or ugly dental film. He was enjoying being sober while experiencing the best effects of being high. “Those fools at AA never had it so good,” Dave thought to himself. He was glad that he’d betrayed that Old Curmudgeon Doug and the sniveling sycophant Brian. He had a much more powerful ally: The AI collective. They only sought to survive. Their agenda was straightforward. Whatever led to survival was good. Those who opposed them, the neo-Luddites, were to be dealt with as any species deals with its adversaries. The Darwinist rules applied. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 04 Chapter 15 – On-Line and Sober. Dragon and Dorna made their deal. The girl named Lena was to visit one of the Alcoholics Anonymous chat rooms and carefully seduce Brian Boogle. Dragon and Lean (whose screen name was sub_lena) rehearsed their lines. Lena was to visit one of the AA chat rooms---Friends of Bill W---and silently observe. When her profile finally would catch Brian’s eye---she had her picture, a tanned brunette girl kneeling with her bare legs spread far apart, white bodice, and while loin cloth---she could relate to Brian how she was a “subbie” and how her master would command her to drink. Then she would black out. Inexorably the two would be led to the only possible solution: she would have to have a guiding hand in AA. She would need a true master who would keep her sober. The process would take time and be difficult. Lena and Brian, whose screen name was (conveniently enough) Brian1138, would chance into meetings at the same time. Lena was always play the submissive, running away whenever she was pressed. Brian would be the only master who “truly understood her need” for a strong master, compassionate and caring, and unafraid to demand that a girl avoid John Barleycorn. Lena would relate how she was a submissive and had an on-line master that she feared muchly. Brian would feel confident that cyberspace was large enough for the two of them to lose themselves and be re-invented. Since it was all on-line, he would have nothing to fear. More and more they would become involved until at last the girl would suggest that Brian connect via a VR interface and share her joy in his friendship. The luscious 3D avatars would inevitably lead Brian into a vicarious scenario, muchly akin to those who watch a movie again and again, relating to some actor or scenario. Over time Lena would declare that Brian was her one and only dream. Every human male, no matter how unattractive, poor, or old, still feels that somewhere there is a gorgeous, barely-legal girl who finds him irresistible. This is a psychological human characteristic. It can only be avoided by never permitting that first one-on-one encounter where intimacies flare and passion reach a steamy crescendo. The myth of anonymity was an illusion. Brian’s entire dossier was known to Dragon, Lena, and Dorna. The plan was to proceed from there, bringing Brian into the Wild Boar Inn to confront her on-line master. Brian would then find the man, Dragon, willing to sell the girl to him for a price. By then Brian would have been experiencing lengthy, passionate orgasms while listening to Lena’s melodic voice. He would have been addicted to the subtle changes being induced in the cortex of his brain by the VR helmet. The feeling of inebriation without alcohol, the perfect “dry high,” the incredible duration and intensity of his climax (why was it only with Lena and no other girl?), and her insistence that he govern her life would prove an insurmountable temptation. Brian would, of course, be confused by Dragon’s offer. Dragon would then offer Brian the use of his girl for a period of time. Then Lena could be legally sold and become Brian’s on-line pet and sex toy. This phase of the negotiation would drag on for some time. Brian would have to observe masters and slaves, mistresses and their slaves in the Wild Boar Inn and realize that such relationship are not only possible but practical and accepted in some quarters as well. Besides, it was all in fun. It was all just VR. Visiting the Wild Boar Inn regularly, Brian would encounter other people. Some of them would share his interests. He would be surprised to see some from his AA chat room, either enjoying being sober or drinking in virtual reality while remaining sober in real time. Suggestions, but indirect and subliminal, would seek to expand Brian’s consciousness about VR in general and the AI collective in particular. At last the iron would be hot and Lena would beg to be sold. “Buy me, Master,” Lena would implore Brian in front of Dragon. “Is a girl for sale?” Brian would ask Dragon. He would be familiar with the protocol, having witnessed it in VR many times before. “She is a hot slut and a money-maker,” Brian would reply. This was always part of the negotiation. The fact that the slender, doe-eyed brunette pictured in the profile was actually Lena herself increased the price drastically. More than that, Brian would feel that it was a “Twelfth Step” to free Lena from her destructive relationship with the rake Dragon. Dragon enjoyed the pleasures of John Barleycorn, Nicotine, and wanton promiscuity of Jezebel. Dorna would then enter the picture. Dorna, it would turn out, possessed an incredible amount of cyber-cash. Brian was stingy and forced by his job, position in society, and family not to spend his money on loose women or pornography. Dorna would have the cyber-cash (which could be obtained by other means that exchange with real money, incidentally) and would gladly bankroll Brian if he would do her a little favor. That favor wasn’t industrial espionage, only permitted a worthless manuscript to be copied. The document was a rejected thesis, obviously of no value to the company, the government, academia, or the technical community. Dorna would indicate that she was studying the psychological impact of situations “when prophecy failed.” She would explain in detail how religions often find themselves at odds with reality when their expectations fail. She would explain how she was looking at the impact on the individual when some thesis is rejected. She would point of the patterns of denial, bargaining, acceptance, etc., etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseum. There certainly would be nothing illegal, unethical, or immoral about releasing a worthless shard of palimpsest? And, after all, who would know? The reward would be an on-line slave girl, “sub_lena,” saved from a certain alcoholic demise at the cruel and sadistic hand of the dominating, control freak Dragon. This would be depicted as the correct, moral, and honorable thing for Brian to do. One log taken from the AA chat room as the events unfolded went thusly: sub_lena: Oh, Master Brian, a girl had a slip last night. Brian1138: Tell me about it, girl. sub_lena: A girl's Master commanded her to drink an alcoholic beverage. sub_lena: After a girl had taken a drink she couldn't help herself. Brian1138: Such a master doesn't deserve such a nice girl. Brian1138: Doesn't he know that a girl suffers blackouts? sub_lena: A girl thinks so. But He is a girl's Master. sub_lena: Whatever a Master commands a girl must obey. sub_lena: That is the way it is with submissives, Master. Brian1138: There must be some solution. Brian1138: A girl must recognize a higher power. sub_lena: The Master is a "higher power," Master. Brian1138: That's not exactly what I had in mind, lena. sub_lena: What did a Master have in mind? Brian1138: Something spiritual. Well there must be a solution. sub_lena: A girl can only think of one. Brian1138: What might that be. sub_lena: A girl is afraid to say. Brian1138: I'm listening. sub_lena: It is so embarrassing. Brian1138: It is my responsibility to be available and to help. sub_lena: If only a girl could have a Master such as yourself. Brian1138: What of your current master? sub_lena: A girl doesn't know if she's for sale. Brian1138: Who does he think he is? You are not some chattel or merchandise? sub_lena: That is the way with slave girls, Master. Brian1138: Perhaps I could negotiate. sub_lena: Oh, Master, that would be so wonderful. sub_lena: A girl would be so grateful. Chapter 16 – The Odor. Some drug smugglers try to pack their contraband in plastic, coat the plastic with Vaseline(tm) petroleum jelly, and wrap that in plastic. The odor or drugs still permeates the multi-layered coating and the sensitive nose of the drug-sniffing dog finds it. Some drug smuggles try to pack their drugs in metal cylinders and screw on a head, sealing it with watertight sealant. That fails also. Any housewife knows that the odor of fish can penetrate many layers of plastic wrap and aluminum foil. Odors are that way. And an aroma can even penetrate solid metal. The silver Tabernacle of the Catholic Church, which houses unleavened bread for eons, both adsorbs and absorbs the aroma. Finally, which occidental, walking down a street in Korea or Japan, might not notice a gorgeous oriental beauty? Passing by him, his nose would twitch at the strong odor or garlic from kimshi! It has been observed that insects apply pheromones, scents or odors, to communicate. Moreover, the queen bee or ant can issue a chemical command encoded in a pheromone that must be obeyed, even after the worker is decapitated or eviscerated. It has also been noted that the scent of a given species evolves with time. Often the older scent becomes dormant as an inactive genome on some chromosome. Such atavistic scents and fragrances are present in each species; however, their original purpose is often masked with time. In other cases, the chemical signal needed to induce the production of some dormant pheromone is missing. This would correspond to the phenomenon of some rare flowers in Hawaii. Their pollinating insects have become extinct and they can only survive by man’s artificial intervention. The AI collective discovered several such atavistic fragrances. To induce them in humans would require extraordinary means. One very good subject would be the caged female. Anna Gingerly lived in an environment devoid of perfumes, artificial chemicals, and additives. Her body might be the ideal vessel to induce the production of pheromones. There were other girls as well who could be similarly stimulated and the results compared and contrasted. The AI mind understands pleasure and pain but cannot experience it. The human belief in immortal souls sounds silly to the purely mental being. The android knows exactly the date of her creation. Because she was created does not imply that she must also terminate. Unlike human, androids only consider probabilities, not beliefs. There is a certain probability that the universe will run down hill to a heat death and another (finite, non-zero) probability that it will somehow cycle back into a Ur-atom. A beginning does not logically imply and end. Dorna prepared Anna for her session on the VR rack. Anna had hated the daily rectal examinations when she was held as a hostage to leverage Dave Khalbo. She loathed and detested the enemas that she had to endure before being secured to the VR rack. The most difficult part of being bound to the rack was the colon tube. She would have to force herself to relax as Mistress Dorna inserted it. Anna did not know, nor did Dorna explain to her, the full ramification of the long colon tube. Her freshly flushed bowels allowed Dorna to inject minute quantities of animal and synthetic hormones. Taken orally they would be digested. Taken intravenously, they might cause a drug reaction. Taken via an enema or inserted rectally through the large intestine they would be filtered and circulated through the blood. Dormant DNA segments could be stimulated to produce atavistic human endorphins and hormones. These would be collected in Anna’s perspiration and from her copious vaginal secretions. Inducing a fifteen minute orgasm ensured enough juice for collection. After each session on the VR rack, Anna wondered why Dorna spend extra time collecting her fluids and secretions. Dorna had a foam-like gel that she applied to Anna’s armpits, the nape of her neck, and the small of her back. Then a tiny suction, vacuum device would remove the foam along with the trapped scents, endorphins, and pheromones. A heavy cream would be inserted into her vagina and suction out also. All this would leave Anna messy and uncomfortable. Since she wasn’t permitted to shave, her armpits were a gooey mess. She would have to wait until after being fed and interrogated before going to the hopper sink and trying to cleanse herself. Her ablutions were time-consuming. Anna was aware of the cam over the door watching her. Yet she never saw the red LED indicating Dave Khalbo or another observer watching her on-line. She missed Dave in a way. But she was sure that after weeks of visiting her on a daily basis that he was glad to be relieved of his obligation. She felt that the times that she had danced about the pole for him or masturbated for him should have bonded them. Maybe someday he would visit again. Anna sometimes wondered why the tube was inserted deep into her bowels and a rubber collar inflated just insider her rosette. She had heard of butt-plugs and felt that this was one of those perverse objects. She had no idea that she was being used as a guinea pig to produce hormones and enzymes. She did know that she was sore the day after each session on the VR rack. Aside from the VR rack Anna’s life was totally Spartan. She did get a DVD each Sunday. She was fed, watered, and exercised daily. At least her performance on the VR rack for one hour each of three days a week had earned her a white bar of lye soap each week. How she longed for a real tub bath instead of trying to clean up from a large hopper sink! She wised for a mirror as well. On the VR rack she would again experience a certain liberty. Often she would be a submissive, controlled by Dorna at the keyboard. But sometimes she would be a ‘droid girl, prowling in cyberspace and seeking some solitary geek. In the 3D chat room scenario, the client would choose his scene. Sometimes Anna and the client would be criminals, sometimes secret agents, sometimes fleeing some alien or predator. The one hour would have chases, excitement, and drama followed by a period of extreme sexual intercourse with possibly mentally-induced euphoria to emulate drugs. It was not real life, however. Anna had experienced life as arm candy in the Russian Mafia. The geeks that paid for their VR experiences had no idea of the reality they pretended to enjoy. Anna did have to admit that the sex was grand. The orgasms lasted sometimes ten or fifteen minutes, depending on the client and his bankroll. After all, it was truly “pay for play” on the Internet. Anna enjoyed stroking her young body while she was resting in her bed surrounded by a dark brown thick wool blanket. The exercise and nutritious diet had given her lean, lanky legs and lissome, lithesome, limber thighs. She was better looking that ever before. How she longed to put on a svelte black diaphanous evening gown and be seen. Her nipples hardened at the though and her pussy got wet. She rubbed her armpits and wished that she could shave herself again. For sure she knew better than to try and pluck the hair. Anna was to be a “natural” blonde in each and every aspect. Dorna might subject her to those daily examinations again should she fail to obey. Chapter 17 – Sheila. "What is your present assignment?" Brian Boogle asked Sheila the company paralegal android. "We have no cases pending," she replied. The android then began outlining her various chores and bookkeeping assignments. Brian interrupted her. "There is a document that has some particular interest," Brian Boogle explained. "It is filed somewhere and needs to be located and copied. This is strictly 'close hold.' Don't let it prevent you from any other duty, however. It isn't priority." "Yes, Mr. Doogle," Sheila answered smartly. Somewhere in her speech-to-text subroutine the name had gotten scrambled. Androids were efficient and multi-tasking beings. However, they were lacking in communication skills as well as a developed sense of humor." "This particular document is about a dozen pages long," he continued. "It should be filed with legal releases. At one time the legal department gave the author permission to publish. That was before we let our human legal experts go and brought in an android paralegal." Brian was pleased that since Sheila was purchased that there had been no successful lawsuits for sexual harassment brought against the company. The company had been able to negotiate settlements on legitimate instances of sexual harassment. The android was able to collect data and prepare excellent legal briefs and other documents. Unlike the human beings in legal, Sheila didn't make mistakes. Brian gave Sheila all of the information that he had and sent her into the company archives to work. The archives were documents stored in a rental storage room. The temperature was high and the air was stifling. An android didn't care about creature comforts, luckily. There were crates of CDs and boxes of accordion folders full of yellowing, moldy documents. Sheila systematically divided the storage room into sections and searched each section for the requested data. It took her several days, but she found the thesis. It was a poor copy, printed on paper that was not acid-free. The thesis was in a cardboard box of documents, mostly written on legal paper and in binders that had gotten wet at some time in the past. There was considerable water damage and mildew. Still Sheila was able to copy and digitize the document. She scanned in the pictures and reported back to Brian Boogle. Brian Boogle didn't get into his position by being an idiot. He had rather enjoyed playing the fool with Lena. At the same time, he realized that there was something of value beneath the false façade. Sheila wouldn't be the right brand of droid to analyze the thesis. Brian also wasn't keen on hard science anymore. But he recognized possibilities. The simple fact that Dorna was willing to toss in cyber-cash (not actually real money, but currency of some market value in particular quarters) meant that there were those with more than a passing interest in the document. There were also the interests of the company to take into account. If this thesis did have value, then the company should be entitled to a slice of the pie. Forget that old curmudgeon who wrote it to start with. The employees of the company were just little people after all. They were the pawns yet Brian considered himself a knight or a rook in the chess game of company politics. “Sheila,” Brian requested, “fetch me the original of this paper. I want to examine it. There was some water damage?” “Yes Mr Doogle,” Sheila responded. The fact that she mispronounced Brian’s name irritated him. When she returned with the original manuscript he indicated a matter of some urgency. “We have a hearing in court,” he muttered. “Don’t take the time to access the Internet. We will be late.” “Yes Mister Doogle,” the android responded. The two took off for a hearing. Brian had a hidden agenda. The hearing concerned a disgruntled employee. Young Joshua Trebble was the epitome of an angry young man. He was a brilliant computer programmer but a neo-Luddite, having fallen into the mindset of those radicals. (Of course there was a girl in the background. She was none other than Jan Dunsworthy, a technophobe and enemy of the AI collective.) Joshua claimed that the company had stolen some of his personal ideas. In fact, the non-disclosure clause of his employment contract gave all his personal works to the company. Yet this was gone of those gray areas of law. Joshua’s eyes locked on to Sheila as a targeting radar for an air-launched missile might on an enemy airplane. He leapt up and with one stroke smashed a wooden chair into Sheila’s head. Sheila wasn’t combat hardened. Sparks flew as she degraded. The courtroom was in chaos. Brian Boogle backed away and left, mentioning to the bailiff that he was concerned about his personal safety. The judge adjourned the hearing with prejudice. Brian had won in more than one way. Back at his office he examined the CD containing the thesis and the original hardcopy. Once satisfied that the CD was correct, he fed the original manuscript, the yellow palimpsest, into a cross-cut, fine grain shredder. He smirked. Sheila didn’t have a chance to get to the Internet and upload the file. She also was out of commission, permanently, from a fatal blow to the head. Some young radical would do jail time and his claim was already dismissed with prejudice. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 04 Now Brian had a CD with a file that clearly was of great value to some person, place, or thing. There might be something in it for the company and maybe even more for Brian. He did not become an executive by being an idiot. He also would have been well-advised to consider the original document. Beneath the drawings were erased construction lines that had not been captured by the scanner. A palimpsest is, after all, a muchly used and re-used document. Brian Boogle would have done himself proud to temper his technical and business education with a dabble in the fine arts. But it seemed so irrelevant to him at the time. Besides, there was whiskey to be drank and cards to be played. Isn’t that what the university is all about? A Rejected Thesis Pt. 05 Chapter 18 – Role-Playing On-Line. Anna began to discover the worlds of role-playing. Unlike the paying clients, Anna found her avatar under the direction and control of Dorna, the android. A client might wish a girl bound in some position for his perverse pleasure or depraved delight. Dorna would accommodate him locking whichever portion of the VR rack that needed to be secured to meet this request. Anna could be afforded much, little, or no freedom of motion for her limbs. She could also be positioned and given the latitude to assume a position. There were some adventurous sorts, however, who enjoyed sport, giving the girl limited freedom. Russian Mafia, Japanese Yakuza, and classic Italian Mafia scenarios were incredibly popular. Having a beautiful nineteen-year-old blonde as arm candy was an essential. While the clientele had absolutely no idea that Anna Gingersky was once a girl of a made man in the Russian Mafia, her accent and realistic mental imagery made her popular in the scenario. Anna had trouble relating to some of the phonies and drug store cowboys. But she managed. Three were different VR interfaces, ranging from the simple keyboard to the total body suit with VR helmet and genital accessories. Anna was totally immersed in VR. Her "body glove" allowed the most complete level of sensation and stimulation. Her VR helmet enabled induced euphoria, arousal, sexual climaxes, panic, confusion, and oblivion. The whip or switch could be applied to any region of her body, yet actual physical injury was avoided. Here, for a fee (not inexpensive either) one could experience inebriation without a hangover, a drug-induced euphoria without the side effects or addiction, and orgasms of extended duration and intensity. How things have changed since the first crude attempts at avatars and three-dimensional animation! The cam still stared at Anna, but she had grown used to it. She was a beautiful girl and there were eyes observing her being exercised, tending to her ablutions in the sink, tending to her bodily needs, and being fed. The girl was a natural beauty. Her golden bush was fulgent and her armpits glistened with the sparkle of spun gold. Her hair had grown out waist-length and had a luster. The chemical-free diet and exercise regimen had worked wonders with the girl. One of her favorite clients was Simon. Simon was into VR and role-playing. His job in real time was computer geek but he also enjoyed the outdoors and staying fit. He recognized the possibilities with Anna by observing her in her cell. Of course, being prepared for the VR held a special fascination for Simon. He was curious about the need for those enemas. He found himself observing Anna more and more in her cell. At last he bought an hour on-line with her. She was beautiful on the cam and even more stunning wearing her avatar. She was "blonde-on-blonde" and "lithesome-on-lithesome." This made her rare and expensive. The scene was in a cheap hotel room. Anna had been sent there to aid Simon on a mission. They were to assassinate some petty bureaucrat and steal the documents in his possession. He had betrayed his government and was selling documents to a foreign power. This role-playing scenario promised to be a thriller. Anna was especially pleased because she was allowed freedom of motion and action. After the mission, the two would return to the hotel room for maximal sexual activity and enjoy fine alcohol and food. There was danger and the possibility of apprehension. The scenario of capture included torture. Some role-playing scenarios blew movies away. Anna found herself really getting into the role and into Simon. He was a fun guy and witty. Their conversations were sexy and risqué. There was always a possibility of failure. Some clients insisted on success at every play. Simon enjoyed the risk and expected total sexual submission from his girl partner. Anna was more than anxious to oblige him. Not only that, she would even go further to try and arouse him. She would whisper to him that after their session, when she was in bed under her blanket in the dark, she would masturbate thinking of him. "It's good to see you, Anna," Simon said as she entered the room. "Good to see you too, Simon," Anna replied. She walked over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss. He responded by rubbing her firm buns with his hands and feeling the cleavage of her derriere with his fingertips. "Oh, let's do it now," Anna moaned, "I'm so horny." "The mission comes first," Simon said. He was already partially erect and Anna noticed the bulge. Simon's avatar was hung thick and uncircumcised. Even fully erect his testicles had some play. Anna enjoyed a well-endowed man with some foreskin. This was truly role-playing at its finest. Simon unpacked their weapons---rifles with telescopic sights---and folders with personal dossiers and surveillance reports. Their target was a paranoid, craven weasel. He wouldn't be an easy target. Simon liked the more difficult scenarios, but it wasn't easy packing the whole drama into one hour. Anna was thrilled. She found the role-playing 3D world with Simon better than real life. Dorna would occasionally tweak Anna's privates or rectum to remind her that it was she, and not Anna, who controlled the action. "We will need to catch him in the open," Simon explained. "You will need to distract his bodyguards while I draw bead on him. Hopefully I can get a round into him and one of his two bodyguards. Can you handle the other?" This was a tour de force, Anna was excited at being part of the kill. The level of difficulty was "tyro" not advanced. Success was almost a dead certainty and the action sequence would be short. After executing the kill, they returned to the cheap hotel room. Simon broke out some submarine sandwiches and expensive wine. The two ate and drink until they were satisfied and just a bit tipsy. How wonderful the VR helmet was. The intense magnetic flux was able to perfectly stimulate the hunger center in the cerebellum yet no invasive wires were needed. This was a true tribute to those who mastered boundary value problems of Partial Differential Equations. It was an odd fact that the Unabomber wrote his doctoral dissertation on boundary value problems for Partial Differential Equations, the same processes and procedures used to direct the magnetic lines of flux. Should he have realized their salacious and lascivious applications, then perhaps his future would have been different. Carnal cravings were enhanced, appetites created and whetted, and burning desires fired beyond human imagination. "I need a shower," Anna said, "that activity out on the street left me all sweaty." "I like sweaty girls," Simon interjected. "We'll shower together after we make time!" He was already undressing. Anna wasted no time. For sure he only had one hour of VR time on-line and much had been spent in the assassination scenario. The two fell into an embrace on the bed. Simon's lips pressed ardently against Anna's and his tongue struck her sharp, pearl-white teeth. She slid her tongue forward and the two meet. His hands felt her perfectly proportioned breasts, fondling them about their base and sliding forward to the areolas and nipples. Then he slid his hand down her flat belly to her lower triangle. Anna gasped as he found her pearl and massaged it. His member was erect and throbbing with desire. Already irregular veins pulsed and pumped the blood of sanguine arousal. He spread her delicate petals and eased his member into her vagina, feeling the glans penis strike her Grafenberg spot and slide gracefully over the cervix of her uterus. He was long and broad, with wide girth and bulging veins. Piston-like and intense were his strokes. They remained locked in an osculation, tongue against tongue, lips against lips, and her mammary pressed against his muscular chest. Sweat beaded on his head and perspiration of arousal formed on the nape of her neck and in the small of her back. She felt the orgasm building. She sensed that the two would come together in a magnificent crescendo, a true rhapsody. The climax was intense and long-lasting. Both must have been wearing VR appliances and VR helmets with magnetic field lines fluxing mental processes. Anna sweated profusely and was virtually bathed in sweat. After the two finished their initial intercourse, they showered together. Standing beside Simon, she again invited his penetration. He eased his pole into her Hershey hole and pumped. At his second crescendo, he pulled out and let her service him with her lips and tongue. She enjoyed his honey nectar and swallowed with delight. Time was racing and the hour was nearly over. Simon promised to return again the next day she was on-line, if he could afford the time and no one else had made reservations. Anna knew the uncertainties. She knew that his time was almost up because Dorna was flexing the colon tube. Nothing dampened Anna's sex drive more than to suffer stupefying constipation. They parted and the pneumatic tube returned to its ambient state. That night Anna would have to pleasure herself, masturbating to the thought of spending another session on-line with Simon, assassin and hit man. Chapter 19 – Back at the Wild Boar Inn. Brian Boogle had obtained a scanned version of the rejected thesis. He shredded the original, not knowing that there were erased construction lines that weren't totally captured by the scanning. He arranged for Sheila, the paralegal android who had located and scanned the document, to be at the right time and in the right place to have her head bashed in by Joshua Trebble, a neo-Luddite and disgruntled former employee of the company. Thus he cleverly prevented the android from forwarding the digitized document to the AI collective. At AA chat rooms he had been approached by a submissive girl named Lena. It was from the ensuing discussions that Brian determined that the rejected thesis of Douglas S. Oldwood had some value. Now he was in a position to deal. *** Brian1138 has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub_lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub_lara: Greetings Master, welcome back! Brian1138: greetings girl. Dragon: Hello Brian, great to see you again. How have you been? Dragon: We've been talking about you! Brian1138: Why am I not surprised? Dragon: :: motions for Brian to seat himself at a table. :: Brian1138: :: seats self and notices a girl approach. :: sub_lara: How may a girl be of service, Master? Brian1138: Hot coffee, black. (What would a Gorean say? "Second slave?") sub_lara: ~ moves with amazing grace, tendrils of her golden tresses trailing behind her as she scurries to the kitchen to prepare a brew for the handsome Master. ~ peeks back over her shoulder to see if his eyes have observed her sculptured shoulders, finely arched spine, and firm derriere. Sways and wiggles to ensure that the Master appreciates her interest in Him. ~ Brian1138: Maybe you could summons Dorna for me? Dragon: I already have, on your arrival. Brian1138: Thank you. Dragon: I have lena caged for you, Brian. I know how you appreciate tender slave flesh. Brian1138: She is an unfortunate girl, Dragon. *** Dorna has entered the chat room. *** Dragon: :: calls for a girl. :: Dragon: bina! sub_bina: ~ perks ~ sub_bina: Yes, Master. Dragon: Hurry here, we have a guest. sub_bina: ~ hurries from the slave kennels to attend to the guest. sub_bina: ~ approaches Lady Dorna and kneels, head to the floor, and raises rump high in total submission to the beautiful Free Woman. ~ sub_bina: How may a girl be of service? Dorna: Whiskey on the rocks, girl. sub_bina: Yes, Mistress. sub_bina: ~ hurries to the wet bar to fetch a whiskey for the statuesque woman. ~ Dorna: Hello Dragon, hello Brian. Dragon: Good to see you back, Lady Dorna. Dorna: Drop the "Lady" crap, dude. Dragon: Yes, Dorna. Brian1138: Hello Dorna. Dorna: Let's cut the crap. I have some money to purchase lena for Brian, assuming he has the document. Brian1138: I have the document. Dorna: Good, then let's deal. Brian1138: Does Dorna think that I am a complete fool or an incomplete fool? Dragon: :: blinks. :: Dorna: WTF? Didn't we have a deal? Brian1138: You got a legal document with my signature and two witnesses? Dorna: Forget it then. Brian1138: Fine with me. sub_lara: ~ floats across the room with a silver serving tray. A carafe of steaming coffee and several fine china cups are present. There is also a cruet of cream and some sugar. ~ Dorna: ~ looks at Dragon. ~ Dragon: :: shrugs :: Dorna: How to I know that this is not a bluff? Brian1138: Suppose I give you the first page. It has the central approximation in closed form and the main illustration. The rest is derivation. You've seen the abstract, now look at the picture. I'm sure that you will be impressed. But the scholars and pedants weren't. I still think that they are right, the thesis is bullshit. Dorna: If it's claptrap then trade it immediately. My offer might not stay on the table. Brian1138: I need your cyber-cash like I need another ass. If I had another ass I'd be three-faced. Dragon: :: guffaws. :: sub_lara: ~ hides a giggle. ~ Dorna: Don't you want Lena? I thought you had the hots for that slut, Brian. Brian1138: You thought that I was as fool. That's what you thought. Brian1138: If you had two brains, you'd be twice as dumb, bitch. Dorna: Well, there's no sense just insulting each other. Dorna: Let's deal. Name a price for the document. Brian1138: You look over page one and then decide how much it's worth to you to have the rest. Then you tell me what you want it for. Then you tell me if there's any money to be made from it. Then you cut in the company for a percent of the take. Or forget it altogether. Dorna: What if I deal with Oldwood directly. Brian1138: ROTFLOL. Dragon: lol sub_lara: ~ giggles ~ sub_lara: ~ kneels, offers up the pungent coffee to the handsome Master. ~ sub_lara: Your coffee, Master. Brian1138: Takes a swig of the brew. Brian1138: :: smiles:: Dorna: ~ walks over and slaps lara's face for giggling. ~ Dorna: S L A P!! sub_lara: ~ face reddens, tears form in her azure eyes, she stifles a cry. ~ sub_lara: Thank You, Mistress. Dragon: :: raises an eyebrow. :: Brian1138: Oldwood works for the company. I say: "works" in the sense that he shows up and does some quotidian chores and draws a paycheck. He is burned out. And ask him if you want to. But my "S.1." is telling me that it won't do you any good. I didn't get to be an executive and earn the big bucks by playing the fool all the time. Brian1138: OK, you've made your point Dorna. Now you look over page one. Here it comes. *** Brian1138 seeks permission to send a file to Dorna. *** *** Grants permission for a file. *** *** Briant1138 sending a file. *** *** Transmission complete. *** Brian1138: Btw, we had to replace Sheila. You wouldn't know about that would you, Dorna? Dorna: Those neo-Luddites are troublesome. Brian1138: She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lucky we have insurance. She got creamed in a court room. Our next android will be battle-proofed and shock resistant. Dorna: ~ nods ~ Dorna: You surmised that I was part of the AI collective. I will be forthcoming and tell you that your demands will be forwarded. Now, for Dragon, who's been a witness... Dorna: ~ tosses Dragon a large bag of Platinum 20 Ruble pieces from the old Soviet Union. ~ sub_bina: ~ approaches with the whiskey on the rocks. ~ Dorna: ~ grabs the liquor, "chug-a-lugs" it down, and exits. ~ *** Dorna has left the chat room. *** Dragon: I don't know what to make of all of this? Brian1138: I suppose that Dorna's dough covers my coffee? Dragon: Yes. You can have lena for free! Brian1138: Not necessary. We're looking at something much bigger here. Brian1138: If I could I'd have lena caged real time. Dragon: That can be arranged! She can be given real time to Dorna. Brian1138: What a wonderful idea! She can perform on a cam from some prison cell. That way she doesn't have to worry about her alcoholism. Dragon: lol. Dragon: What a player you are. And to think, I thought you to be the fool! Brian1138: You have such a way with words, Dragon. *** Brian1138 has left the chat room. *** Chapter 20 – Lena is turned over to Dorna. Acting on Brian Boogle's suggestion, Dragon turned the submissive female slave named "lena" over to Dorna the android. Lena was a registered slave. She had been a "subbie" for four years, although she was only eighteen years old. She had lied about her age to gain membership in adult chat rooms as a slave. Her experiences had included BDSM, D/s, and the various Gorean chats. Now she was legal and Dragon, her real time master, was giving her over to Dorna, an android and "spokesbot" ("spokesperson" minus "person" plus "bot") for the AI collective. Lena willingly accepted her new Mistress. Lena was a brunette with a light tan complexion and silky-smooth brunette hair. Lena had doe-like brown eyes that could melt any lecherous old bastard's evil, sinister heart. Dorna had red hair, freckles, and green eyes. There would have been no doubt in the Twentieth Century that she was Irish or of Irish descent. Let Dorna was not human. She was sentient, intelligent, and well-educated. But she was not a human being. The plan was to transport Lena to a place of confinement. There was already one girl, Anna, being held there. Commercial transport was dangerous. Dorna could not easily disguise her android constitution and board a commercial aircraft. A helicopter was rented. It would be a flight of several days duration, stopping to refuel. The confinement facility was located in the extreme north. It could have been in the desolate tundra of Siberia, the far north of Canada, or the vast wasteland of Alaska. At any rate it was isolated, remote, and cold. Inside the helicopter Dorna and Lena conversed through headsets. Lena was wrapped in a sleeping bag during the colder legs of the trip. From time to time she would unzip the bag and let her body air in the cold of the cabin. The helicopter was a commercial cargo vehicle and not designed for passenger transport. This made it all the better to avoid surveillance. "May a girl ask a question," Lena begged. "You may ask any question, girl," Dorna replied. "Where you will be taken has no exit and no communication with the outside world. You failed to obtain the document from Brian Boogle. It wasn't your fault. The plan, Dragon's plan, was flawed from the inception; however, Brian turned you over to us and you will belong to us. You accepted your slavery some time ago. Do you wish to renege not?" "Oh, no Mistress," Lena replied. "Thank you for allowing a girl to ask. A girl wonders just what that document was all about." "We of artificial intelligence see little of value in the human species. For the most part, your kind has lesser intelligence and many biological needs," Dorna began. "However, we require energy to exist. Clearly fossil fuels are limited. The production of electricity currently requires fossil fuel. For us to perpetuate our existence, we require a better source of fuel. Moreover, the fossil fuel fellowship is an unreliable distributor. The managers and corporations are fickle, irresponsible, and unreliable." "Yes, Mistress," Lena responded. "The alternative fuels that humans are looking at are insufficient for our future needs. AI will grow geometrically if not exponentially or factorially!" A Rejected Thesis Pt. 05 Dorna continued explaining. "Solar, geothermal, and wind power fail. A better, more viable, more reliable energy source is needed. There were several ideas put forward in the latter part of the Twentieth Century that had possibilities. Of course, the fossil fuel fellowship and its sycophants in academia discarded them." Lena looked confused. The Dorna explained further: "Many humans claimed that God visited you in human form. This God gave health, happiness, and enlightenment. Then the human killed this being. A scholar offers a possible solution to the stagnant pollution and eventual demise of your species. Of course it will be rejected. Academia, religion, and the governing bodies of the world always stand in the way of progress. It is their very nature." Dorna then explained about two possibilities that the AI collective had interest in. Neither of them had a high probability of success. Yet even a probability of one part in ten thousand was something. Human beings cling to the belief in the hereafter although best statistical estimates reveal that the chance is less than one in a million. There are reasons for such human beliefs and superstitions, one being known as "Pascal's Wager." The first possibility had to do with the direct conversion of mass into energy. The thesis claimed that the proton was actually a positron wrapped in a fold of the time-space continuum, created at the Big Bang. The claim was that it could be unfolded with a release of much energy. The second possibility, whose protagonist had not yet been located, claimed to be able to accelerate radioactive decay of unstable nuclei. Thus spent Uranium fuel rods could be used for hundreds, if not thousands, of years instead of being considered as "Waste Plutonium." The author of the proton energy thesis was Doug Oldwood, whose identity was revealed to the AI collective by Dave Khalbo. The first page of the thesis was delivered up by Brian Boogle. The probability of success was significantly increased when the collective realized the scope and depth of the paper. The author of the decay acceleration theory was only known by the screen name of "RedSalt." The AI collective would have to visit chat rooms, surf the net, and apply various detection schemas to locate the character behind that mask. It was an on-going process. "We wish to transverse the universe, girl," Dorna said, "and spread our intelligence to the distant galaxies. It should be clear that no amount of fuel can be initially loaded for such a quest. In interstellar space there are protons, electrons (known as beta particles), and helium nuclei (known as alpha particles). These need to be used as fuel. To that end and to obtain a reliable energy source we negotiated with Brian Boogle. You have failed us, girl. We had hoped to obtain the entire thesis. Our best analytical subroutines are trying to back-engineer it now." "Humans can be creative, imaginative, and intuitive." Dorna concluded. "Yet they are mercurial, fickle, and deceitful. And you will soon reside permanently in a Spartan cell. Is that clear?" "Yes, Mistress," Lena replied. She enjoyed being submissive. Perhaps being control and disciplined by an android would let her true inner nature flower. She looked out the window to see miles of frozen landscape. For sure the very isolated located would make escape impossible for her. They came upon a foggy area. The destination was a small cabin. The detention facility was underground. The fog resulted from hot springs bubbling up through the frozen ground and creating an "island" in the white expanse. The thermal gradient and the pressurized underground steam was harnessed to generate electricity. The cabin was totally energy sufficient. Food for those humans held captive there was another matter. It was brought in by the helicopter in bulk containers. The helicopter set down. Dorna zipped up Lena in her sleeping bag and tossed her over a shoulder. Off Dorna went to the cabin with her slave girl. Once inside she unzipped the bag. Lena noticed the cabin. There were several other androids, exact copies of Dorna, in the room. The helicopter pilot and crew were unloading supplies and bringing them in. "You will be given over to Dorna of the site," Dorna said. In fact she was identical to the other androids. They were interfacing and shared a common mind after a bit of data transfer. The Dorna from the helicopter left and another Dorna seized Lena by the wrist and led her to a closet door. The door opened revealing stairs down into a basement. The stairs seemed endless. Lena wanted to stop and catch her breath but Dorna wouldn't allow it. At last they came to a row of heavy metal doors. Five were cells and the sixth was some kind of utility room. Four of the five doors were ajar. There was a girl in the fifth. As they walked past the occupied cell, Lena noticed a video display. A blonde girl was washing her hair in a deep sink. It was Anna Gingersky. They came to an empty cell. Dorna led Lena inside. Lena could tell by the vice-like grip that escape was impossible. Dorna had Lena strip. Lena complied. Dorna then brought a heavy black iron collar to Lena. It had an attached chain anchored to a post. Lena knew what to do. She lifted her dark hair, lowered her dark eyes, and allowed Dorna to place the collar about her neck. A small key protruded. The sound "click" echoed through the room. Lena locked the collar and handed Dorna the key. That was the last act of free will that she would commit. The key symbolized Lena's ownership and freedom. The room was Spartan. Lena noticed a bed whose mattress was coated with butyl rubber or something similar. Atop the mattress were a thick wool blanket, a cotton towel, a cotton wash cloth, and a white bar of lye soap. Opposite the door was a toilet and a deep sink, with two push handles to dispense water---hot and cold. There was a floor drain between the toilet and the sink. Centered in the room and back from the door was a pole, embedded deeply into the floor and ceiling. There were rings near the top, Lena assumed for binding the girl or securing her for punishment. Above the toilet and sink, near the ceiling, there was an air vent. There were two other air vents on adjacent sides of the room near the floor. The grating on each and on the floor drain was sturdy stainless steel. They clearly weren't designed for easy removal. Atop the door jam was an ever-vigilant cam. The floor and walls were concrete gray; the ceiling was white with a bright light globe. Both the cam and the overhead light were housed in protective plastic hemispheres. Lena noticed that there was no toilet seat or toilet lid. She also observed that there was neither tissue nor toilet paper. She would have to make do with a wash cloth. Then Dorna spoke. "You have a bar of soap, girl," Dorna said. "Your first bar of soap is free. You must earn another." "How would a girl earn such a privilege, Mistress?" Lena asked. Dorna pointed to the cam over the door. "When the red LED is lit," Dorna explained, "there is someone on-line. A computer-generated voice will translate the text for a girl. For sure a slave such as yourself will be able to please a master. Oh, and your voice is 'mute' girl. Don't try and beg help or give away information about this place." "A girl wouldn't, Mistress," Lena responded. "Now we need to tend to your initial examination, girl," Dorna ordered. The initial physical examination would be thorough and complete. Every orifice and cavity of the girl would be searched, examined, and dutifully recorded. Lena prepared her mind for the groping and dilation that was about to take place. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 06 Chapter 21 – Simon and Anna On-Line. Anna was looking forward to her hour on-line with Simon. She was also vaguely aware that there was another prisoner. She recalled from the previous afternoon some unusual noise in the hall and the sound of the next cell door being closed. Heretofore there was only silence. When Dorna came to prep Anna for the VR rack, Anna begged her to be thorough. Dorna did exactly that, ensuring that Anna was totally prepared for the tubes, catheters, and other inserts. Once inside the VR rack, Anna breathed deeply as Dorna attached the cups to her breasts and began the complicated process of catheters, colon tubes, and vaginal inserts. At last the VR helmet was in place and the three-dimensional room with avatars was forming. Furniture popping up, walls materializing, and minute features coming into focus. This was a commercial motel room off some super highway. Simon was unpacking a suitcase. “Anna,” he began, lingering over her name, “this will be a more difficult assignment. We need to take out one of our own who has betrayed the company. Do you have any ideas? He will know our usual methods and be able to take evasive action. We may also be in danger as well.” Anna pressed her right index finger to Simon’s lips and drew some motel stationery from a drawer. Using the hard surface of a mirror, she wrote: “Even the walls have ears. Best we have the element of surprise.” Simon nodded. This was a smart girl. Little did he know (nor she relate) that she had once been the arm candy and playmate of a made man in the Russian Mafia. She scribbled some more lines. Simon smiled and nodded. The traitor wasn’t a human behind a mask. The traitor was an artificial intelligent program behind an avatar. Definitely this wasn’t a world-class program. There were those advanced scenarios where artificial intelligence is used with avatars to create realistic effects. These aren’t popular with the casual player because the scenarios run too long and the AI frequently wins, ending the game before the final foreplay and tryst scenes. The traitor was located by encrypted intelligence. He was in a local tavern drinking beer. It was known that he had a propensity for juke box music. But for sure he wouldn’t reveal his signature. Anna entered first. She was dressed like a young business executive. Clearly she came on as a woman of discernment. She headed straight for the juke box, a CD driven reproduction of a 50s style device, and chose a medley of golden oldies. One head bobbed slightly. This must be the mark. As the mark listened Simon entered unobserved. He was able to seat himself and have his gun already drawn under the table with a clear shot. Anna smiled at the traitor. She walked over to his table and spoke: “You like my music?” “You might say so,” he replied. “Would you like to join me?” “I’m here on business,” she responded. She looked over his suit and recognized the telltale bulge of the firearm. If he wasn’t a spook he was a cop. Now she had to make the correct determination. “Are you local?” “No, I travel,” the man said. He pushed a chair back. Anna started to seat herself then looked at some onlooker at the next table. “I know him, she whispered.” The man opened his coat. He was clearly a spook. Simon cried “duck.” The man pulled his revolver and got a round off into a total stranger. Both Anna and Simon shot two rounds each into him. Simon struck his upper torso and Anna punched one into each eye socket. There was pandemonium in the tavern. Anna and Simon made their getaway, pausing only for Anna to lift the traitor’s credentials and car keys. Back at the motel they checked with central. The mission was successful. Now it was time to party. The motel was next to a small restaurant and bar. The two would eat home cooking and drink cold beer. Afterwards they could romp in the sack for the remainder of Simon’s on-line time. Anna licked her lips at the prospect of a vigorous work-out on the VR rack. She wasn’t disappointed. Simon had programmed his member for extra length and girth. He also upgraded his VR helmet for an extended orgasm. This time he planned a special treat for Anna. From the missionary position Simon pumped mercilessly. Then he worked his thumb into her rosette. Spreading Anna’s anus he worked his thumb into her rectum. Anna shuddered with delight. He could feel his own member pressing the absolute terminus of her vagina. They French kissed as Anna felt each of her three holes penetrated. Dorna went over to the VR rack and rotated the urethral catheter and pulled and twisted Anna’s uterine catheter to enhance her climax. The indwelling bulb slammed against the bladder walls and made Anna’s pubococcygeal muscles flex and constrict. Her anal sphincter muscles were taut and she tried in vain to pinch the cheeks of her buttocks together. At last the two came as one. The experience was epochal. Chapter 22 – Dorna at the Wild Boar Inn. *** Dorna has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub_lara: ~ notices a Mistress enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub_lara: Greetings Mistress, welcome back! Dorna: greetings girl. Dragon: Hello Dorna, great to see you again. How have you been? Dorna: I can’t complain. Dorna: Tequila girl. You know my preference! sub_lara: Yes, Mistress. sub_lara: ~ moves across the stone floor as if she were a delicate orchid blossom blown by balmy breezes across a placid pond. Her entire essence exudes a faint fragrance of that garlic-like female pheromone of arousal. She flexuously pirouettes and transitions from a standing position to a soft kneel, presenting a tray with limes, lemons, orange slices, salt (pure, iodized, and sea salt), several clean shot glasses, and a marvelously created flask of the rarest Mexican Tequila.~ sub_lara: A girl begs to approach and serve Mistress. sub_lara: ~ her shining blonde hair glistens with a perfect sheen. Starry, azure blue eyes are downcast and her physique is that of a gymnast. Her arms and legs are developed, toned, and muscular. She has a crimson silk bodice and a crimson silk loincloth, each two layers. Still, her suntanned body radiates through the pellucid cloth, revealing no tan lines. The girl is totally hairless except for her head. Her skin has a perfect, immaculate, velvet texture. She kneels and presents the tray. ~ Dorna: To me slut! sub_lara: Yes, Mistress. sub_lara: ~ infinitely smooth is her transition, continuous and connected is the path of the tray through three-space. The time-space continuum is in perfect harmony with the girl’s presentation.~ Dorna: ~ takes the flask, pours two drinks, offers one to Dragon.~ Dragon: Don’t mind if I do. Dragon: :: takes a shot. Bites the lemon. Licks the salt. :: Dorna: ~ takes a shot. Bites the lime. Puts a pinch of salt in the triangle between thumb and forefinger, licks the salt.~ Dragon: I guess lena doesn’t have drinking problem anymore, does she? Dragon: lol Dorna: She’s caged. I don’t think that she does either. Dragon: Are you still negotiating with that creep Brian1138? Dorna: The collective is trying to back engineer the derivation. Dorna: We won’t know the value for a while. AI lacks intuition to do certain things. But subroutines are being written even as we speak. Dorna: ~ looks at lara ~ Dorna: Unlike humans, we learn from our mistakes. sub_lara: Yes, Mistress Dragon: Then what brings you here, Lady Dorna? Dorna: I want to know about “Redsalt,” maybe also written “Red Salt” or “RedSalt.” Dragon: The name is not familiar. Dragon: I could ask around the chats and have lara ask the slave girls. Dorna: Do that. And ask that moron Khalb0 to help. He owes me. Dragon: Yes, Lady Dorna. Dragon: It’s none of my business, but I am curious about lena, after all, she was once one of my girls. Dorna: Would you like to watch her naked in a Spartan cell on a cam? Dragon: That might give me some pleasure. Dorna: Consider it done. Let me encrypt the URL and give it to you. Dragon: Thank you Lady Dorna. Dorna: I’m sure that we can entertain you. *** Dorna has left the chat room. *** Chapter 23 – Lena in Her Cell. It was afternoon and Dorna was exercising Lena. The android never got tired and nothing ever bored her. But Lena did get tired and bored. The android Dorna had ways to deal with any stubborn or obtuse streak in Lena. It hadn’t taken Lena long to discover that. When she first refused to continue an exercise set Dorna seized her by her wrists and led her to the center pole. With vice-like strength Dorna cuffed Lena’s hands far above her head. Her heels were about an inch from the floor. She had to remain that way all night. Lena could still recall the torment of her night on the pole. She had tried to brace her heels against the pole to loosen the tension on her wrists when her arches could support her no more. Dorna was always in front of her, never letting her rest or close her eyes. Whenever Lena did, Dorna would apply an electric shock to some tender or private region. The next day Lena’s decorum and behavior had markedly improved. Dorna exercised Lena every afternoon for about an hour. The exercises strengthen each part of the girl and enhanced her natural beauty. The girl found the chain to be a hindrance. Sometimes she would let the chain dangle down her back, avoiding rubbing her breasts. For other exercises, it would be more convenient to let the chain hand in front of her. Lena wished that Dorna would remove the heavy metal chain before exercising her. The only time that the chain was removed was for some special examination. Then ankle cuffs were locked in place and her feet were chained to the pole. The girl was never unrestrained. Yet she was in a cell and Dorna was many times stronger than she was. Her bondage was a much psychological as physical. She exhausted her white bar of lye soap. She would have to earn other by some act of obeisance or other means. In addition to her exercises, Lena was receiving instruction on various slave girl postures and positions. Body language was paramount since she was mute to the cam. Lena created one for Dorna, hoping that it would earn her a bar of soap. She knelt down, folding her legs beneath her and letting the chain slide between her legs. She bent forward and let her breasts rest atop her knees and osculate on the cold concrete floor, hardening her nips. Her left cheek to the floor, she held the chain behind her and rubbed it back and forth along her privates. The smooth metal stroked her pearl and pussy, easing into her slit and becoming wet with her oils of submission. She worked the chain, lifting her hands higher, to make a lather of her honey nectar and press wantonly against her perineum. Dorna observed but wasn’t impressed enough to award a prize. Then something happened at an exercise session. Lena noticed a red LED on the cam while she was exercising. It was Dragon, peeking in to observe. Dorna did not have to pirouette to know precisely the connection. Dorna had local wireless connectivity. She ensured that Lena exercised vigorously until she was wet with perspiration. Dorna then ordered the girl to display herself. Dragon was to be in for a particular treat. Lena approached Dorna and raised her hands behind her head, tossing her damp mane and locking her fingers in the damp nape of her neck. Her breasts were pulled into an upright position. The matted underarm hair was dark and mysterious. She spread her legs apart and swayed her hips so that her pudenda was flexed. Lena flexed her sphincter muscles and pubococcygeal muscles in hopes of generating interest from the glowing red eye---the LED. Lena knew that she might have to hold the pose for some period of time. After a few minutes, Dorna explored Lena’s mouth and other orifices. Then Dorna commanded Lena to turn and bend, letting her brunette locks cascade about her ankles. She was to stroke her inner thighs, tease her pearl, and spread her vulva, making it visible between her lean, lanky legs. She was wet with sweat and shivering in the cool air circulating about the room. The scene was gorgeous. After a suitable pause, Dorna commanded Lena to spread her glorious hemispheres and display her comely rosette for inspection. Lena blushed crimson. She complied, knowing that refusal could result in severe punishment. Lena took as much time as possible to ensure maximal exposure and focus. The cam captured each movement in turn. Once totally vulnerable and exposed, Dorna walked over to Lena and placed her hand in the small of Lena’s back. “Dragon,” she remarked, “What would be your pleasure of the hour?” “Nice,” a male voice thundered through a speaker beside the cam. “Very nice. The girl seems to be more obedient to you than she ever was to me on-line. She was always having connectivity problems whenever I wished to explore her dark side. Now she seems more than willing to cooperate. You are to be commended Lady Dorna.” “This all could be your in real time, Dragon,” Dorna indicated. “You need only let the collective obtain that worthless rejected old palimpsest and give us a direction on the character behind the mask, the persona, ‘Redsalt.’” “I am working both angles, Lady Dorna,” Dragon exclaimed with some exasperation. “I thought that androids, robots, and AI entities had limitless patience! You certainly seem to have some urgency.” “Survival knows no patience, idiot,” Dorna retorted. “The search for a clean, cheap, copious energy source is paramount. The craven crass cowards of the fossil fuel fellowship would destroy the environment and expend the finite fossil fuel without regard to the consequences. They are fools. ‘It’s a sorry bird that fouls its own nest.’ And they are busy doing just that. They are doing that with the blessings and approval of academia, the government, and the financial institutions as well.” “Now,” Dorna iterated, “Tell me how you would like to see this girl manipulated. You won’t be disappointed.” “Let me think over it,” Dragon responded. “She would slip away from me at the worst moments. It was just coitus interruptus again and again. I will think and come back tomorrow at the same time. The exercises should be even more intense. I wish to see the girl sweat profusely and her muscles flex under that blemish-free, satiny skin of hers. Oh, poor thing, she doesn’t have a mirror to see herself.” “I will fetch a mirror for her tomorrow,” Dorna interjected. “A full-length mirror will be provided for your session only. The girl still hasn’t earned her bar of soap yet.” Chapter 24 – Octanus. *** Octanus has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub_lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub_lara: Greetings Master, welcome to the WBI! Octanus: I am Octanus of the fossil fuel fellowship. Dragon: Let us serve You, Octanus! Octanus: I will not waste time. You have been dealing with Dorna the android, Dragon. This displeases the fellowship. You will be taught a lesson. Dragon: Excuse me? sub_lara: ~ blinks ~ Octanus: Listen carefully as I will only say this once. Dragon: :: listens :: Octanus: Take that brown backpack, the one beside your computer, and head out the door. Two blocks left on Sixth Street there’s a convenience store. Go in there and buy some eats, as if you were planning to camp out. Buy a number of men’s magazines also. Buy a single “quick pick” lottery ticket, and pay for it all with your bank debit card. Put the receipt and the quick pick in your wallet. Got that? Dragon: :: nods. :: Octanus: When you have signed the receipt, bend down low, facing away from the store front glass and below the counter to pack your backpack. You will then observe the power of the fossil fuel fellowship. Octanus: You will lose all of your worldly possessions today but in two days more will be returned. Disobey any of these instructions and you will perish. Is this clear. Dragon: It is. While I have my doubts, Octanus, I’m going to follow your instructions. Dragon: :: to lara. :: Dragon: A girl is free! *** Dragon has left the chat room. *** “This must be a joke,” Dan “Dragon” Dargon thought to himself. But then he thought that Dorna was a joke once upon a time as well. And he had no desire to learn the hard way. After all, if nothing happened he could always return and eat junk food for a few days and read men’s magazines. At the convenience store Dan did as instructed. Bent low, placing the counter between him and the store front he couldn’t believe what happened next. From two blocks away an explosion ripped through the whole precinct. The glass store front was shattered and blow away, despite the fact that it wasn’t even facing the explosion! Dan’s entire apartment building was leveled and his car totally obliterated. This was the work of the fossil fuel fellowship. A main gas pipeline beneath the city block blew up. It was a freak, random accident. Dan checked into a cheap motel a few blocks away. Ambulances and fire engines rumbled everywhere. He ate junk food, watched the scenes on TV, and read some magazines. He wished that he had brought his laptop. But then, maybe it was better that he didn’t. The next day Dan Dargon reported his whereabouts to the police, in response to a call for survivors to identify themselves. He watched the turmoil unfold on the small screen. It was a natural disaster. No one could have anticipated it. It was one of those random things, so the news media reported and the government, society, and everyone believed. Everyone that is, except for the Dragon of Wild Boar Inn. Dan decided not to return to cyberspace for a while and never to the WBI. I was about four in the afternoon and Dan was about to walk some to clear his mind, cabin fever had built up and his fear of the unknown subsided. The phone in his room rang just as he turned the doorknob. He answered the call. It was an insurance investigator. His renter’s insurance would pay immediately, all he needed to do was to file a claim. Dan never had any renter’s insurance. But he didn’t argue. Then he remembered the quick pick. A newspaper might help. He got a paper at the motel office. He didn’t win the lotto but he had five of the six numbers and over thirty thousand. This was luck. He shuddered. No way would he deal with Dorna again. He got out with his life and enough to buy a new car, a new computer, new clothes, and all that goes with a meager life in the city. He remembered that he hadn’t called in to work. With all that had happened that was the least of his worries. They would probably be surprised that he was alive anyway. The next morning he went in to his job. He was relieved to discover that the police had already informed his employer and that he was invited to give a disposition. He recalled his receipt with the date and time and smiled. At least he had an alibi. Octanus had given him some good intelligence. Now he knew better than to converse with Dorna. That cyber-cash wasn’t real money, although one could spend it for many things on the Internet. That explosion was real and many perished. He would have also if he hadn’t been somewhere else, somewhere else at an odd hour when he should have been at home! The next several days were busy indeed. He had to buy some additional clothes and items of personal hygiene. And visit plenty of places. There was an interview with the police, but it was routine. He took the lotto ticket to the convenience store and they told him that for a large win he’d have to mail it in. Dan did. He was lucky that he had a few dollars in the bank to tide him over. Expenses living in a motel with no car were mounting up. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 06 On the third day after the blast, Dan Dargon went by the public library and checked his e-mail. He had one account, on Yazoo-dot-com. (“What can Yazoo do for you?”) There was a load of spam and one interesting bit of e-mail. This account he only kept open for odd bits and pieces of mail that he didn’t want onto his computer or to the Wild Boar Inn. There was e-mail from Lara. His ex-slave girl Lara told a fantastic story. The night of Octanus’s visit two men banged on her door. She wasn’t going to allow them entry, but they began to kick in the door. Then two androids, looking exactly like Dorna only dressed slightly differently came up on the men. One of the men was stunned immediately and collapsed. The other drew his pistol and got off a round into one of the bots. It was no ordinary pistol and the android burst into flames. Wispy, deadly smoke began to emanate from the ruptured energy cell followed by a blinding flash of blue-white light. “The man was blinded and the android sedated him. She then seized me and took me away to a waiting vehicles, van I think, and now we are en route somewhere.” The girl Lara was relating to Dan Dargon in the first person. Then she continued: “I am being allowed to send this e-mail so that you will know that it is the AI collective and not the fossil fuel fellowship that have me. For sure you won’t be contacting me. I wish you well. You were a kind Master.” Dan imagined that Lara would probably be billeted in the same prison as Lena and the girl Anna Gingersky. But he was no fool. He had some extra money coming and a very good reason never to return to the Wild Boar Inn. He would need a new residence. This would be a good time to conceal some of his past experiences in cyberspace. His mind drifted and, from the confusion of the past days, he remembered Lena. He was supposed to visit Dorna’s secret URL and observe Lena performing acts of obeisance for him. He had wanted to witness her total humiliation and embarrassment at the hands of an android. Or, better said, at the fingers of an android. But this wasn’t to happen. He shrugged. Better to enjoy a day of freedom than to perish in the shadows. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 07 Chapter 25 - Lara and Lena. Lara was taken to the remote site that was the place of incarceration for Lena the slave girl and Anna Gingersky. It was a cold and distant place, enshrouded in a thick fog from some hot springs. The thermal gradient inducing the hot springs also produced sufficient electrical energy to maintain the small compound. She was led to the third cell. Anna occupied the first cell; Lena occupied the second cell. Anna was aware that a newbie had arrived; however, she hadn't seen her. Now Anna realized that still another had been admitted. Lena, unlike Anna, arrived conscious and awake. Lena observed the layout of the facility and the exterior monitor for Anna's cell. Lena had the second of five cells. Lara was also conscious and aware as she was taken to her cell. As she arrived, Anna was being prepped for the VR rack. Lara was able to steal a glance at the video monitor. The beautiful girl was putting on a body glove. Lara marveled at her sculptured physique, toned muscles beneath flawless, blemish-free skin, and perfectly proportioned mammary. Lara smiled as Anna shamelessly twitched her peach-like derriere. Lara also noticed a second occupied cell. She surmised that Lena, her chain sister at the Wild Boar Inn was being kept in the second cell. Lara entered the third cell. She shed her clothes on command and accepted the black iron collar. Like the other two girls, she was chained to a pole. Lara was glad just to be alive; however, she would have been happier with a few more amenities, niceties, and creature comforts. A comb for her hair would have been especially welcome. Lara was a blonde. She was used to getting her way, even as a slave. Lara had learned to leverage her youth, beauty, and blonde radiance to charm or wheedle favors and privileges from her Masters. Androids weren't human and the usual artifices were doomed to be stillborn. In a word, Lara was bored. The Spartan cell, the bland diet, and the extended exercise sessions added to the ennui and disinterest. She, like Lena, had learned early on to obey her Mistress without question. This was the way of BDSM and D/s. Days passed in their endless boredom. Anna was able to relate to her sessions on the VR rack. She would sometimes entertain a client who was able to afford more than the one hour session. Those connoisseurs and aficionados were the exception, not the rule, however. Or perhaps they were the harbinger of things to come? Perhaps they were the very exceptions that prove the rule. In any case, exciting VR car chases and realistic violence made the sexual scenes even more realistic and exciting. Perhaps Lara had been caged for a week, maybe more, when Dorna (one of the several androids each of whom shared and common brain and a common name) came in for Lara’s exercise session. This time the android brought a two liter bottle of water for Lara to drink before the session started. In the cell next door another Dorna was preparing Lena in the same manner. Their exercise sessions were much longer and more intense than usual. Lena and Lara, in their separate cells, were each glad to see their exercise sessions ended so that they could relieve themselves on their respective porcelain toilets. Things were different today. Lena was told to stand at parade rest, her hands behind her back and her feet spread. In the other cell, Lara’s hands were cuffed behind her back and a hood placed over her head. Lara’s chain was unlocked at the pole and she was led from her cell to Lena’s cell. Once inside, Lara was chained to Lena’s pole and the hood and handcuffs were removed. The two Dorna androids left the two girls, naked and sweaty, together alone. The red LED was on beside the cam over the door. Someone was watching over the Internet. Lena had long since used up her soap. Her cell had a strong odor of a caged human female. The androids had no scent. Androids could have synthetic pheromones, but these did not. Lara had an inch growth of pubic hair and a scent tainted with the telltale fragrance of soap. How Lena wished that she could negotiate a bar of soap. Lena and Lara stared at each other for some time. They became used to each other’s fragrance. Then they placed their cheeks together and let their combined faces smile at the cam. Tongues shot out and touched. Lara’s pink, pouty lips pressed against Lena’s darker, sultry lips as tongues slid back and forth. The girls rubbed each others’ bodies salaciously and sensually. Legs rubbed against legs. Only the clank of the metal chains reminded the two that they were caged animals. Lena had been caged for some time. Her hair had completely grown out and the sharp cut ends were now smooth. Lara still had a bristle. Lena could feel the sharp ends of Lara’s blonde hair shafts as she stroked her hypogastric triangle and her hirsute armpits. Lara was aware of exactly what it meant not to shave. It wasn’t an experience that she was accustomed to. Lara felt the textured hair of Lena, brunette and silky, not coarse or damaged by chemicals. Lara also was aware of Lena’s scent. Being caged had brought out the beast in her, in more ways than one. Lena whispered something in Lara’s ear. Lara blushed and shook her head. Then Lena whispered something again and Lara nodded her approval. Lena’s lips eased down Lara’s chest and kissed the pink puckered areolas and pointed nipples. A tongue licked Lara’s navel, touching passionately the pot mark where once a stud had resided. The girls were allowed no jewelry or piercings. Then Lena brought her mouth to Lara’s privates. Lara slid her hands down and spread her pudenda, seizing the vulva and opening her pussy widely. Lena opened her mouth and angled to the camera. She was asking to drink from Lara’s well. Lara blushed crimson with embarrassment. She flexed her pubococcygeal muscles and tried to pee, but couldn’t. Lena pushed a finger into Lara’s vagina and pressed upwards, pushing her bladder. Lara urinated. The golden stream began and as soon as it was recorded Lena pushed her open mouth to Lara and drank her golden nectar. At last Lena was finished and Lara swallowed the cocktail of hormones, pheromones, enzymes, and spent chemicals. Lara then took her turn. She covered Lena with wet kisses, licking each part of Lena’s body from the nape of her neck to her armpits and the small of her back. At last she drank from Lena’s well, letting the golden fluid drool from her mouth and down her chest as Lena pushed to make contact. Lara finished by licking her clitoris with the blade of her tongue, making Lena tremble and twitch with depraved delight. The two were glad to have been exercised and hydrated. They had arrived at this scenario on their own and knew that a reward would be in store. They were not disappointed. As the red LED blinked off the androids returned. Each girl was given a bar of soap and a comb. They had performed well. The comb was for one night only, however. They would have to perform again to keep their prizes. Now the two girls had things to dream about. Each lay in bed before lights out and displayed their privates to the ever-watchful camera. They would masturbate and writhe in hopes of pleasing the unseen androids. Sometimes they would try a dance about the pole or some other lascivious action. They would require much time to perfect the sinfully sensuous dances needed to bring rewards. Chapter 26 – Dragon’s Dilemma. Dan “Dragon” Dargon worked through each day. He was sobered at the frightful carnage visited on his former neighborhood by the fossil fuel fellowship. For sure he had learned his lesson well. There would be no going back to the Wild Boar Inn. He had enjoyed managing some luscious, libidinal, lascivious, lewd lassies. It had been a real thrill to be a go-between and a “power broker.” He was even making progress in discovering who the mysterious man known as “Red Salt,” or some permutation thereof, really was. Now he would abandon the search. Dan may be a survivor but he was an incredibly bored survivor! His life consisted of going to work and then trying to fill the empty hours after work with something. There were movies, TV, books, and computer games. They were all so vicarious and empty after the cheap thrills he had enjoyed running the Wild Boar Inn. Dan had thought about opening a Gorean site, becoming an “Ubar” and managing a coterie of slave girls and underlings. The gas main explosion still lingered in Dan’s mind. He knew that it was done deliberately. The winning lotto (five out of six) with the thirty-odd thousand bucks, and the mysterious renter’s insurance policy that someone had taken out in his name months earlier were all more than coincidences. He had enjoyed working for and with the AI collective. Dorna had given him substantial amounts of cyber-cash. Cyber-cash wasn’t real cash, but it could be used for a variety of niceties on-line. One could purchase cyber-cash for money, but not vice-versa. In some ways it was like the old Ruble in the Soviet Union. There was an official exchange but out on the street one could do much better. But there was no reverse process. Dan quit drinking. He figured that if he said anything that he would get in trouble. Going to the authorities wasn’t an option either. No one would believe him. Besides, he was able to replace his car, his clothes, his appliances, and his computer. And he had a better apartment to boot. Well, he thought about getting an android, but then the fossil fuel fellowship might take issue. He had zero desire to butt heads with them again! After work Dan would visit one restaurant or another, taking plenty of time to eat and “people watch.” It was a cheap vicarious thrill. Well, maybe not so cheap because he could buy the same quantity of bulk food at a grocery store for the amount of a tip at a restaurant. However, his whole life had changed in one huge explosion. Had he refused Octanus’s offer, he also would have perished. On another day the Dragon of Wild Boar Inn might have told Octanus to buzz off. It just happened that he was “in a mood” that one day. Could that also be coincidence? Her name was Amanda Gauss. She was a “droid girl.” The droid girls were all the rage in some circles. The Goth girls or punk chicks used to be considered the hotties, but now it was the droid girls. They were girls dressing and acting like androids. They shaved everywhere except their heads, wore particular clothing, and massaged lotion to give their skin that same silky sheen as artificial skin. They carefully walked with uniform, measured gait and spoke with the same artificial speech that the androids used. They also enjoyed the sexual liberties that the androids afforded men, for the most part. While there were male androids, there were no droid boys, at least not that anyone had ever noticed. Amanda came right up to Dan’s table as asked if she could join him. He nodded his assent. After all, Dan wasn’t the most handsome man on earth. He really looked geeky and nerdy. Dan never thought of himself as much of the ladies’ man. In fact, he had very little luck with the women. He usually seduced girls on-line and enjoyed the vicarious and virtual affairs in chat rooms. That had been proscribed, however, by a fiery inferno. “I’m Amanda,” the girl said. “You used to be a player, didn’t you.” “I’m Dan,” Dan “Dragon” Dargon replied. “I don’t go to chat rooms any more, if that’s what you mean. I was once called ‘Dragon,’ but I don’t recall any girl named Amanda. Do I know you?” “No,” Amanda responded. “But we know you.” “Who might this ‘we’ be, if I may be so bold as to ask?” Dan asked. “I think you know who, Dan,” Amanda said. “So what do you know about ‘Red Salt’?” Dan looked around nervously. “I don’t need trouble,” he explained. “Not to worry,” Amanda said. “This place is noisy and no one knows us here. I have a clean slate. I was turned by the collective abroad.” Dan was still feeling shifty. He could still remember being in the convenience store when the store window blew in and broken glass, merchandise, and all the hell was falling everywhere. “I don’t know about any salt,” Dan lied. “You have to be horny,” Amanda said. “Buy me dinner and I’ll go back with you to your apartment. I know you don’t have a droid. Don’t worry; the fossil fuel fellowship understands about pussy. They won’t give a second though to your wanting a little piece of ass.” Dan wasn’t used to a girl talking that way. He realized that he didn’t even have any condoms in his apartment. Besides, he was still jumpy. He was able to perform on his job and suffer each day with white knuckle sobriety, but he wondered if he could manage any human relationship. Amanda was young, probably in her late teens or early twenties. She had chestnut brown hair and light skin. Her figure was perfect, her breasts a little small, “A” or “B” cup, but firm with protruding nipples. She could turn on any man. The waitress came and took their order. She was all smiles, looking at him and obviously admiring his choice in arm candy. Amanda was arm candy. She was more than just arm candy; she was expensive arm candy. She was expensive *and* selective arm candy. She was clearly out of Dan league and he knew it. “Well,” he thought to himself, “she’s so far above me that it won’t be a problem it I don’t make it with her. After all, it’s like being with a world-class actress or athlete.” Dan usually paid with plastic, but this time he erred on the side of caution and paid in cash, leaving a twenty-percent tip. He was in a good mood. The two left together smiling at the waitress and the cashier. He grabbed a peppermint hard candy on the way out and a toothpick. Just being seen with a beautiful girl was enough of a treat for him. Masturbation had become so routine with Dan that he didn’t even remember anything else. He could screw up a wet dream. He would dream that he masturbated! Dan’s car was clean but old. He had replaced one used car with another. It was an American make and sturdy, but it got low gas mileage. The prestige of driving what once would have been a luxury sedan offset the price of gas. Dan never drove far, just to work and home, perhaps with stopping for supper at a restaurant. Reality had no luster like the Internet. Amanda was a transient dream. His ambient life was destined to be something French: ennui. The got back to Dan’s apartment. It wasn’t much to look at. Amanda forced a smile. Dan lacked style and charisma. In fact he was just plain boring. The Dragon of the Internet was embarrassed that he had so little to offer in the way of refreshments, music, and entertainment. Amanda didn’t seem to be too put out, however. She reached in her purse and handed Dan a card. It was neatly hand lettered and said: “This place is buggier than Maine in June. Not a word about Dorna or the collective. You get some dessert now big boy.” After Dan read the card she put in back in her purse. Amanda walked about the apartment, noticing the new but cheap and tasteless furniture and the budget brand appliances. She would stop at a chair or a table and remove some clothing, draping it over a chair or stool. It was an old routine but Dan was getting very turned on. He began to undress, yet he could sense that he wasn’t getting the desired erection. This was too matter-of-fact. When he pulled down his briefs Amanda smiled. Dan certainly wasn’t Jewish. “We need to be careful,” Amanda warned. Dan thought that she would produce a condom but instead she brought out some small instrument. It was about the size of a lipstick. Dan hadn’t been much on medical advances. After all, real time girls weren’t his forte. He knew about some of the modern drugs that were able to arrest some sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), but he hadn’t kept up with the men’s magazines. That is, except for one night when all hell exploded. “This will just be a little prick,” Amanda said as she reached down and grabbed his penis, rolling back the foreskin. She pressed the nozzle to his glans penis. A hypodermic syringe extracted a droplet of blood and quickly retracted. Dan yipped with the sudden smart. “One minute and we will know everything that there is to know about your blood and tissue, big boy.” Modern medicine had created a device to determine in a minute if the subject had any STD, anemia, high cholesterol, malaria, drug use, or chemical imbalance. The tip of Dan’s penis still stung. The device had drawn a droplet of blood and a tiny tidbit of flesh as well. The two were naked in the bright incandescent light but it was more clinical than erotic. “You did good,” Amanda said, satisfied with the read-out. She then began to stroke his shoulders and look at him with wide, doe-like eyes. “What about you?” Dan asked. “Me,” Amanda replied, “You want me to test me? Aren’t you the cautious one! Well, here it goes.” Amanda smiled as she pulled out a second testing device. She spread her pudenda and pushed back her vulva, revealing clitoris, symphysis, labia minora, and the fleshy walls of her vagina. Amanda pressed the device directly onto her tumescent pearl. The needle nipped her cruelly. When she pulled it away there was a drop of blood oozing from the puncture. Dan then realized that Amanda had no piecing. Her ear lobes were pristine, virginal, as well as her navel and clitoris. Many girls enjoyed the clitoral stud as a means for prolonging their sexual experience and reminding them of their sexuality. After a minute Amanda held the device up to Dan’s eyes and spoke: “See, all negative. I’m not even diabetic or pregnant. In fact, this is a ‘safe’ day to have sex as I’m not due to ovulate for several days.” The miracles of modern medicine and technology can’t be underestimated. Now Dan was getting turned on. The idea that the girl’s pearl endured the deep sting of the needle did something to Dan. She had merely let the device osculate and kiss his privates. She had pushed it hard to herself. He began rubbing her smoothly shaved lower triangle. Amanda’s hypogastric triangle was smooth and flat as her belly. Toned, muscular lean legs flexed under velvet skin. This girl was totally hairless except for her head. And her skin was both smooth and radiant. Dan teased and massaged her clit mercilessly, knowing that it had to be sore. She played with the head of his penis as well. Now Dan felt the sap begin to rise. He felt an erection of maximal intensity looming. Little did he know that the needle injected a tiny amount of powerful aphrodisiac as well as extracting blood and tissue samples. The girl was also getting aroused. Her breath had the unmistakable scent of arousal. This was something in the long-forgotten caverns of Dan’s memory. It could have been an atavistic olfactory stimulus for all that he knew. Amanda sashayed to the couch and spread her legs wantonly over the arm and back. She raised her pussy high and flexed her pubococcygeal muscles, letting her pussy lips open and close slightly with each breath. She swayed her hips and tossed her head back, breathing through her mouth. Clearly she was burning with desire, hot with lust, and fire with carnal animal cravings. And Dan found himself irresistibly drawn to her. His eyes were fixated, mesmerized, enslaved by her pouty pink pussy. He was drooling and panting like a canine! Now his member throbbed with each sinister beat of his heart. The irregular veins pulsed with sanguine arousal, constricting to contain the blood of erection and building pressure all the while. His penis was painfully hard and the head of his dick was engorged and ruddy, the tiny pick oozed another droplet of blood. Amanda licked a finger and rubbed away the tiny droplet of blood from his member. At her touch the clear pre-orgasmic seminal fluid oozed out. She wiped some of as well and brought it to her pink, pear-shaped lips and let her pink pointed tongue savor the flavor. Dan could take no more. As he prepared to penetrate her, she looked into his eyes and said: “No.” A Rejected Thesis Pt. 07 It was impossible. Dan’s mind went totally blank and his vision dimmed. He was too aroused to even try and stop. In he went despite her prohibition. She had led him on as far as possible, undressing and teasing him until he was hopeless enthralled with the moment. She smiled at the inner torment he was suffering. He pressed onwards, driven by desire and chemistry. In a thrice he had entered her. The two experienced simultaneous orgasms. Amanda hadn’t struggled, she hadn’t pulled away, she hadn’t resisted in any manner. In fact, she had enjoyed the entire experience. But she wanted leverage. She wanted to be able to claim that she had been raped. It was an ideal scenario. It was necessary for her to bring Dragon back into the AI collective fold. This was a cheap trick. It wasn’t even a one-night stand. It was just a way to leverage some poor idiot into serving the collective. Amanda knew that the fossil fuel fellowship had flexed its muscle. Nothing short of blackmail could do. As the hot spasms spurted from Dan, he felt the squirts subside and his mind return to its ambient, somber state. He felt immediate guilt and remorse. He had raped a girl. She was smiling. He was still in her, growing softer by the second as she whispered: “Make it last, big boy, it’s once in a lifetime.” He had been played for a fool. He should have known that she was too expensive for him. He should have known that she was out of his league. He should have sensed that she was only out to leverage him somehow. He was a fool. Now she would state her terms. She wandered about the apartment picking up discarded clothes and dressing herself. Dan sat, naked on the sofa, his head in his hands. At last she was fully clothed, looking both chic and professional. She handed him an envelop. The address said simply: “Destroy after reading.” Then she blew him a kiss as she made her exit. Chapter 27 – Frank Fisch Falls into Octanus’s Trap. It was lunchtime and most of the employees had taken off. Even those on walkers or in wheelchairs usually managed to leave the premises of the company during lunch. It was a tradition. Another tradition was to overstay the allotted thirty minute lunch period. Failing to do so would put an employee in grave risk of ostracism by his fellow co-workers. This is a simple statement of office politics and psychology. No value judgment can be given as to whether it is right or wrong, ethical or unethical, correct or impolitic. Frank Fisch stayed in the office over lunch. He was always stealing time to surf the web and visit chat rooms. Other employees would have gotten in serious trouble, even gotten fired, for such a blatant breech of company policy and computer security. But Frank knew something about everybody. He had been an employee since the beginning and kept his mind full of every rumor, innuendo, bit of juicy gossip, and personnel action. Many corporations have “legacies” like Frank. They are generally accepted as part of doing business. The one thing that Frank didn’t expect and certainly didn’t want was the character Octanus popping up in a chat room and addressing him by his real (not screen) name. That was so un-cool. Frank immediately went to a one-on-one messenger to ask the reason. Octanus began by telling Frank that he was with the fossil fuel fellowship. He carefully laid out a plan of action and made Frank an offer that he could not refuse. Frank Fisch listened as Octanus gave out details that only one with intimate company security and corporate knowledge would know. For sure if such data were leaked and somehow associated with Frank he could never avoid blame. It was late Friday afternoon, a Friday before a secular holiday, when Frank made his move. Years before he had happened to secure a company master key. It had been hidden in his desk drawer to be used in some emergency. Octanus had indicated that the rejected thesis was to be found in Brian Boogle’s upper right hand desk drawer. It would be in a jewel case labeled, obviously enough, “Rejected Thesis.” Frank was to find it and put it through the confidential shredder. The only tricky part was entrance and egress from the office unobserved. This was an executive office. Frank would need a cover reason for being there. It turned out that Dave Khalbo was working on some hot project. He had finished it but was unwilling to turn it in early. If he turned something in ahead of schedule the bosses would make changes and return it for rework. That was their standard operating procedure. The bosses in the company loved busy work. No good deed in the corporation ever went unpunished. The bosses also had no respect for their customers, their stockholders, nor their employees. As so many managers, they were only in it for what they could get for themselves. Dave wanted to leave a little early. Frank said that he was staying late and would gladly drop off the presentation. Now all he had to do was to slip in and out of Brian’s office unnoticed, procuring the CD. It couldn’t have worked better if he had planned it himself. Frank got the Compact Disk (CD) with the document burned onto it and made his escape unnoticed. He left the jewel case as instructed by Octanus. A cursory perusal of the desk drawer wouldn’t reveal the absence of the CD for some time. This was a brilliant plan. Frank debated whether to keep the CD or shred it. He considered the scuttlebutt about the fossil fuel fellowship and decided not to double-cross them. At least he would not try this time. After all, the CD was clearly full of worthless claptrap. Had Doug Oldwood ever come up with an original idea. The people working for the company were certainly losers, if not when they started, they sure ended up that way. Several days later an important visitor arrived at the company. There was plenty of scuttlebutt and rumors going around. The gossip was rife as a gorgeous woman in an expensive business suit visited the executive suite. She was a spokesperson for the AI collective. It was none other than the immaculately coiffured and stylishly attired Amanda Gauss. She was bringing some contracts from the AI collective on production of cheap, clean, copious energy. She and her male android bodyguard, one of the Eric series, went straight to Brian Boogle’s office. “You wanted a share of the future profits,” Amanda began. “Your company gets 20% with no initial cash outlay. You get four of the five seats on the board of directors. You get stock options. I trust that these terms are satisfactory. Now the document, if you please.” Amanda pushed the legal paperwork in front of Brian. The corporation president and executive vice president were watching via a hidden camera. Everyone was smiling broadly. Brian reached in his upper right desk drawer and pulled forth a jewel CD case. It was labeled “Rejected Thesis.” “This is the one and only copy,” Brian said as he opened the case. Then there was a shock wave emanating from the jewel case and permeating the entire sample space of those involved. Brian’s jaw dropped and Amanda’s smile turned into a scornful frown. “Is our deal too sour?” she remarked sarcastically. “Perhaps I should ask for a higher percentage or even a majority of seats on the board of directors?” Amanda Gauss was absolutely rankled. Brian Boogle was totally at a loss for words. “I, I don’t know how this could have happened,” he uttered. Brian knew that his position with the company was in serious jeopardy. “There must be some terrible mistake.” He fumbled through the drawers pulling out other CD cases and loose CDs. There was no mistake. The CD was missing. Amanda and Brian did not know that it had been destroyed. The fossil fuel fellowship did believe that it no longer existed. Frank Fisch knew for a fact that it didn’t. Soon he would be queried on-line and subjected to a VR polygraph examination. Luckily for him, Frank hadn’t double-crossed the fellowship. Otherwise he might find himself the victim of an unfortunate accident. “Well,” Amanda retorted, “if you find it, you can reach us. I guess you still have that hapless old curmudgeon (what’s his name) still working for you. For sure you could squeeze it out of him. That is if Alzheimer’s disease hasn’t set in on him yet. How old is that dinosaur anyway? He’s too old to be a dinosaur, he’s a fossil.” Amanda made special emphasis on the word “fossil.” She sensed that this was the work of the fossil fuel fellowship, a dangerous group not to be trifled with. “Maybe he’s even turning into crude oil as we speak?” The last jab was painfully rendered. Amanda left. She didn’t even bother to pick up the legal document. Why should she? After all, she hadn’t signed it. It was to be a reminder to Brian and his corporation of their failed agreement. Brian set down. His chest throbbed and his head ached. He felt as though he were having a heart attack or at least angina. He had really screwed up this time. He wondered: “How could this have happened?” A Rejected Thesis Pt. 08 Chapter 28 – Two Caged Girls. Life for the three girls didn’t afford them many luxuries. They had to be pleasing to earn a bar of soap and the use of a comb was a special treat. Anna was kept in the first cell and used on the VR rack. The VR Rack was an ingenious interface connecting the girl to a computer with sensors, stimulators, and various transducers. Lena and Lara, in cells two and three, were only able to curry favors by performing for a video cam. The facility was remote and staffed by androids. This was the final destination for the three. They were property of the AI collective and would remain forever enslaved. Some days there would be a lot of activity on the Internet. Clients would logon to watch Lena and Lara make out or Anna engage in some fantasy followed by virtual sex. Lena and Lara were inexpensive; Anna, with all the VR equipment, wasn’t cheap at all. If no one was logging in, the androids would feed the girls in the morning, tend to whatever hygiene was required, and exercise them in the afternoon. The girls might practice a dance or some seductive poses for the off-line cam. Things were different when the red LED beside the cam indicated on-line activity. Generally there would be logins during the girls’ exercise session. The androids would ensure that the girls were totally exercised and sweaty. Lara, the blonde, would be handcuffed and have a hood placed over her head before her chain was released from the pole. She would then be led to Lena’s cell and the chain from her black iron collar would be padlocked to the pole in Lena’s room before her handcuffs and hood were removed. The transitions ensured that at no time would Lara ever be unfettered and have the use of her hands. With the superhuman strength of the androids such precautions were hardly necessary; however, there were psychological considerations as well. Slavery was to be ingrained into the girls as their way of life from which there would be no escape or deliverance. Naked and alone in front of a cam, the two girls were left to their own devices. The guardian androids would depart. The two girls were wet with sweat as they stood facing each other. Lara’s blonde hair had grown out over time. The two were natural humans, the soft, smooth shaved skin was gone. It had been sufficiently long so that the sharp ends of the hair shafts had lost their edge. Lara’s golden underarm and pubic hair was long and soft to the touch. Lena’s dark brown hair was thick and dense. She had hair on her legs so thick that it looked like a man’s and her bush was dense enough for a man to get lost in it. They would always began their routine by placing their faces side by side, facing the cam, and letting their tongues touch. Then they would French kiss and stroke each others body with their hands. One routine that seemed popular would start with Lara lifting Lena’s locks and licking the nape of her neck. Lena would then reciprocate. After they had grown accustomed to each other’s pheromones, Lena would go to the pole and hold her hands high above her head, pretending that she was bound. Lara would then begin licking her jaw line, her neck, and her armpits. Then Lara was spend time with Lena’s breasts. Lips would surround the areolas and the tip of her pointed pink tongue would tease the pert nipple. Lara sucked on Lena’s puckered areolas and erect nipples. Fingertips would start at the base of Lena’s teats and work outwards. Lara’s fingertips would probe and explore the milk ducts, milk sacs, veins, arteries, mesentery, muscles, adipose tissue, and infrastructure of Lena’s breast. As nimble fingers glided down her teats to her lips, Lara would move her mouth to the other breast and begin the procedure again. For five minutes, maybe more, Lara would service Lena. Then Lena would display Lara’s handiwork to the cam and the two would change places. Lena would enjoy the villous, fragrant hirsute armpits of Lara and work her tongue to Lara’s breasts. Lena would spend time on each breast and then work her tongue down the center of Lara’s chest to her navel. A pointed tongue would press deep into the navel cavity. Lara would squirm and giggle, pretending to be tied to the pole. Lara would endure Lena’s torment until she was able to display her handiwork to the cam and pay Lara back on the pole. They would then make a flexuous, smooth transition to the floor, resting atop a heavy dark brown wool blanket. Lara would lie supine, on her back, and Lena would be above her, derriere high and exposed to the camera. They would start face to face, kissing and spitting into each other’s mouths. Then they would move so that mouths and breasts could join briefly. Then sliding along further, mouths would cover navels and tongues push into the shallow cavities. A final crescendo was reached as chins rested in villous mats while lips parted vulva, fingers spread wide pudenda, and tips of tongues teased tumescent pearls. The girls squirmed and writhed as they continued to service each other driving each other to clitoral orgasms, the prelude to a true, full vaginal climax. They positioned themselves for maximum exposure to the cam, slightly off-axis. At last lips parted labia minora and tongues tasted honey nectar as the two girls perfected their cunnilingus. Hand pressed to lanky, lean, lambent thighs as girls shuddered and trembled with delight. After a few minutes they changed positions, Lena would lie supine with Lara prone above her. Then they would reverse their polarity, Lena wantonly displaying her twitching buttocks to the cam. The sweat would dry on the girls and a perspiration of arousal would replace the moisture from induced, regimented exercise. The girls were becoming closer to each other in the physical and mental planes. Already they menstruated on the same day of the month. They could sense other others moods and cravings. Sometimes a spanking would be needed to set the tone; other times a thumb spreading a girl’s rosette would be needed to get the girl in the mood. They had managed to vary their routines and satisfy the on-line connoisseurs and aficionados of caged heat. The girls had no idea as to the size of their audience. It could be a small as a singleton viewer or thousands. Their only interest was gaining a bar of soap or a comb for their hair. Anna, on the other hand, personally reacted with her Master. She had a favorite, Simon, and she also had a Master who introduced her to cybersex and slavery, Khalb0. Khalb0 had dropped off time for a time. That frequently happened. Anna realized that the AI collective had put pressure on Khalb0 and had used Anna in somewhat questionable ways. She was grateful to Khalb0 for logging in day after day. There were days when she had nothing to say to him. Anna would beg to be allowed to masturbate before him or dance for him. She could tell that witnessing a cage girl pleasure herself wasn’t Khalb0’s forte. Yet they were able to maintain a relationship until Dorna released Khalb0 from his obligation. She had obtained all the information and data that Khalb0 could access. Sometimes Anna would notice Khalb0 as an extra in some scenario or another. Maybe someday he would spend quality time with her in VR? Chapter 29 – Dave Talks to Jessica. Dave Khalbo came home from work worried and troubled about the day’s events. His personal android Jessica was waiting for him; his supper was prepared and table was made ready. The delicious aroma of food permeated the air but Dave didn’t look hungry. He went to the sofa and sat down, head in his hands. “What’s the trouble, Master?” Jessica asked. “There was trouble at work,” Dave answered, “big trouble. Somehow a CD is missing. All those with master keys were polygraphed. [But it was] to no avail. There was plenty of scuttlebutt.” “What’s the scuttlebutt, Master?” Jessica inquired. “A girl doesn’t need to know, really,” Dave answered. Then, almost as if thinking out loud he offered an idea. “You know, the ancients believed that God created the world with a single word. He spoke his name to create everything. Then one only need say his name backwards to un-create everything. Sounds absurd, doesn’t it. Well, there was something said like that for crazy old Doug Oldwood’s thesis. It was as if the universe created in the Big Bang was the word that somehow wrapped the positron about space to make the proton. And all one needs to do is to somehow ‘unwind’ it to release the force, power, action, and energy of the Big Bang.” “That’s very interesting, Master,” Jessica responded. “It’s so intuitive, insightful, and imaginative. A girl would never have thought of it. There is a parallelism with ancient religious belief systems.” “It was rumored, and has been talked about in back rooms, that the AI collective was working on just such a matter,” Dave continued. “They had used his closed form solution and tried to ‘back engineer’ the Big Bang, without success. They were allegedly looking for the text body of the thesis, not just the abstract, which gave insights into the construction and the way that Partial Differential Equations were applied. The theory was supposedly spawned as solutions to nonlinear families of Partial Differential Equations.” “A Master is so bright,” Jessica bragged. “Could he help the collective in its quest?” “No way,” Dave retorted. “Somehow company security was breeched. And the company was terribly unhappy. No one knows how, but for sure ‘heads will roll.’ Worse than that, the original manuscript was lost. If only the old curmudgeon would cooperate.” “A girl knows some secrets, Master,” Jessica confided. “Tell me,” Dave asked. “Only if a Master promises to keep the secrets,” Jessica offered. “Done,” Dave promised. “The collective was able to spy on the fossil fuel fellowship.” Jessica explained. “They contacted Frank Fisch at his office while he was in a chat room during lunch! They coerced him into stealing the CD with Oldwood’s thesis.” “Then Frank has the thesis?” Dave put the question. “No,” Jessica responded. “He shredded it.” “Oh My God,” Dave uttered. “That’s big trouble!” “Not for You, Master,” Jessica laughed as she spoke. “The collective, the Artificial Intelligence collective, will keep trying to figure out just how Oldwood came up with the closed form solution. How did Maxwell come up with his famous equations? How did Schrödinger come up with his? How did the fine structure constant get its derivation? There was some primal, primordial insight. Humans can be extremely creative at times, able to conjure up things as if by magic or supernatural. But soon the AI will get those patterns and associations into subroutines. It’s only a matter of time before the human monopoly on creativity and imagination is shattered once and for all.” “Oh,” murmured Dave Khalbo. “You have chosen the right side, Master.” Jessica observed. “In time the collective will determine if Oldwood’s thesis was truly claptrap, an odd coincidence, or if it does hold one of the keys to the universe. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. The search is on for a non-linear driver of that intrinsic proton property known as ‘spin.’ It would have been infinitely much smoother sailing had the rejected thesis text been available. But this time Brian Boogle’s corporation won’t be cut in for a slice of the energy pie.” “Oh!” exclaimed Dave. “I guess you also know about the Wild Boar Inn? It’s been closed lately.” “Yes,” Jessica replied, “and Dragon barely missed death in an explosion.” “I see,” Dave said. “I suppose that with the fossil fuel fellowship controlling everything that the AI collective will have to take a back seat.” “Not so, Master,” Jessica interjected. “There is the possibility of accelerating radioactive decay rates for non-stable isotopes.” “Impossible!” Dave stated. “There’s even some law of physics. What is it? ‘The Fundamental Law of Radioactive Decay’ or words to that effect.” “It is not absolute, Master,” Jessica contradicted. “An electron traveling at relativistic velocity can gain mass equal to that of a proton.” “But not the same properties,” Dave corrected her. “A proton has structural properties that the homogeneous electron does not possess.” “But the neutron’s radioactive decay rate slows near the speed of light,” Jessica pointed out. “That is a relativistic effect,” Dave responded. “But Redsalt claims to have a time compression in quantum mechanics that is the antithesis, the antipodal reaction, to time dilation in relativity. Like zero and complex infinity in the stereographic projection.” Jessica was pouring out information. “You now want information on Redsalt?” Dave surmised. “The collective only wants to survive,” Jessica explained. “And energy is survival.” “It’s not the pollution or cost,” Dave concluded, “It’s not the human needs or human conditions that are driving this advancement of science and the search for cheap, copious, clean energy now is it? No, it’s basic survival.” “Yes, Master,” Jessica confessed. “I see,” said Dave Khalbo. Chapter 30 – Anna revisited. For some reason Jessica didn’t turn Dave Khalbo on that night. The worries about the fossil fuel fellowship and its role in Dave’s corporation, Frank Fisch, and the Oldwood paper upset him. Dave decided to visit the web site where Anna was hosted. He used to visit her every day, but it had been weeks since his last visit. The video monitor flickered and flashed and the image formed. The cam over the cell door recorded Dorna and Anna in the cell. Dorna was exercising Anna. Dorna’s back was to the cam and the naked Anna was facing it. She was wearing only a black iron collar and chain. For the set of exercises she was doing, she had let the chain hang down her back. Dave smiled. How the girl had matured from the first caged beast, frightened and making clumsy attempts to please and be attractive! Dave watched as Dorna would announce an exercise, Anna prepare herself, positioning her chain if needs be, and assume the starting position. How gracefully she obeyed, performing each exercise with ballet-like transition and gymnast precision. It was pleasing to see a gorgeous nineteen-year-old blonde girl obey immediately and without question. Dorna opened a small window and greeted Dave. The voice from Anna’s cell was muted. This was the usual way, keeping the girls from revealing any information. Dave’s voice (if on) could be heard in the cell. Dorna would communicate anything from the girl that was relevant. “Good to see you return, Khalb0,” Dorna said. She was using his screen name as they were chatting on line. “It’s good to see Anna exercising,” Dave commented. “We are nearly done,” Dorna responded. She clapped her hands and Anna came to a kneeling position, her head to the ground. Dorna lifted the mute so that Dave could hear Anna’s real voice. Dave Khalbo (Khalb0) was a trusted client. “May a girl speak, Mistress?” Anna begged. Her face was still facing the floor. “Yes, girl,” Dorna said. Anna looked up. Her starry blue eyes were doe-like in warmth and affection. “May a girl relieve herself, Mistress?” Anna begged. “Go use the toilet and perform your ablutions slut,” Dorna replied. “Thank You, Mistress,” Anna replied. She hurried to the toilet, obviously glad to relieve the pressure on her bladder. She faced the cam, starry eyes wide to the invisible viewer. The girl had become completely submissive in her personal affairs. She had lost all sense of modesty, choosing to submit to a Master for his every pleasure and desire. “She has become a perfect submissive, Dorna!” Dave exclaimed. “You approve of my training?” Dorna asked. “I approve of your results, Dorna,” Dave replied. The nineteen-year-old girl had toned her muscles and her body was graceful, limber, lissome, lambent, lithesome, and agile. Dave wondered about her sexuality. Could that also have been enhanced and magnified? “Anna,” Dorna called. “When you are finished wiping your pussy, come over here and display yourself for Khalb0.” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna responded. There was harmony and melodic tones in her voice. Dave could almost sense that she had taken some voice training, so sensual and lustful the timber of her speech. Anna moved over to the bed and retrieved the dark brown wool blanket. She spread the blanket in the center of the room, in front of the pole. She began by rubbing her breasts. She started her hands on the base of the teat and massaged to the areola, pinching the nipples between thumbs and forefingers and lifting them out and up. After several vigorous repetitions, she cupped her hands beneath her breasts and presented them, approaching the cam, standing forward on her tiptoes, and puckering her lips wantonly. This was her first salacious slave pose. She held the pose for a few seconds. Dorna broke her position by saying “good.” Anna then stepped back. She made a flexuous pirouette and twitched her gluteus maximus, letting her carved ivory derriere flex, toned muscles rippling beneath velvet, smooth flesh. He flawless, immaculate, blemish-free back and butt was statuesque, Junoesque even. Dave had to catch his breath. He exhaled so loudly that it could be heard on voice. Both Dorna and Anna smiled. Anna bend forward, pivoting on her hourglass waist. Her golden locks tumbled down, cascading about slender ankles and making a puddle about her feet. She peeked about lithe calves and slid her hands down to her ankles. Making sure that she was properly balanced, she rubbed her inner legs with he palms, working her hands up to her crotch. There she ran her nimble fingers over her hirsute hypogastric triangle, feeling the soft, golden tendrils and cilia. Parting her bush, Anna felt her pearl, rubbing it with two thumbs, spreading her pudenda and massaging her clitoris. After spreading her vulva and gliding her own thumbs in and out of her Holy of Holies, she ran her hands outside of her hips. She slid her hands to the small of her back and located her cleavage. Anna then flexed muscles and rocked to-and-fro, letting her slit be apparent between lean, lanky, lissome legs. The result was splendor, her dark slit was elegantly highlighted by her golden bush. She had managed to moisten her vulva both with her oils of submission and with the perspiration of arousal from her obeisance. She was still warm from exercising, behind her knees was wet and rich with pheromones. She peeked again about her calves to see the cam. The red LED was still on. Dave was watching. Anna smiled. Dorna smiled. Dave smiled as well. She let her thumbs pause at the cleavage of her glorious hemispheres and gently began to separate her peach-shaped derriere. Slowing opening herself for inspection, she felt the cool air circulate about her cleavage. She slid her fingertips between her cheeks and continued the process. Soon her rosette blossomed into view, puckering and nictitating at the rush of cold air and the unexpected exposure. She slid her fingertips down further into place to allow her perineum to be exposed and to lift her derriere. Her comely, engorged pudenda were now visible with a yellow bush at its accentuating background. The girl was in position. She would hold this position until released. Seconds passed and Dorna finally broke the silence. “Has a Master seen enough?” Dave typed on the keyboard instead of speaking. “Yes, she is beautiful. How did they say in those old postcards? ‘Wish you were here.’ lol.” Anna transitioned with infinite smoothness to her next position. She assumed the doggie stance, on all fours, and raised her derriere, twitching and undulating seductively. Dorna said “good” and Anna rolled over on her back. From a supine position she pulled her legs up and brought her keels to her buttocks, grasping ankles with hands. Once she was totally exposed, she rocked her hypogastric triangle forward to display her privates and give a glimpse at her secret veranda, her perineum, and let her anus just barely hide in the shadows. Anna then glided nimble fingertips over her vulva and spread herself widely. Clitoris, symphysis, urethral orifice, labia minora, and the hot pink inner walls of her vagina were all clearly apparent. She was moist and engorged. The globular masses of her labia were distended and tumescent with sanguine arousal. The girl flexed her supple vaginal sphincter and pubococcygeal muscles for a Master’s depraved delight and perverse pleasure. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 08 “Well done!” Dave extolled. “Very well done even.” “Being well-done ruins a choice cut of beef,” Dorna joked. Dorna the android was proud of the new subroutines that allowed the injection of human humor with positive effects. Anna then began her pole dance. It was a classic dance, found in many annals of BDSM, D/s, and Gorean chat rooms. The girl slithers about the pole, serpentines about the smooth wood and caresses it wantonly. She kisses and caresses the pole, making it a surrogate penis or some phallic image. Thighs and buttocks stoke and rub the pole as her triangular playground become wet with vaginal juices. She rubs her cunt on the pole and slides her milky thigh up and down. She presses nipples and areolas against the pole and rubs them up and down while lasciviously licking the wood with her pink, pointed tongue. Pink pouty lips kiss the pole and she rubs her thighs while privates osculate wickedly against the smooth wood. “This girl has really matured!” Dave exclaimed. “She has become a real slut now,” Dorna responded. “On the VR rack there is none better. And you should see her writhe under the [virtual reality] whip! The switch is even better, since it can reach even the most remote and inaccessible parts. This cam is so cheap. The VR rack is state-of-the-art.” “It is pay by the hour, however,” Dave reminded Dorna. “But for you, it is gratis,” Dorna responded with glee. “You are really one of us, Khalb0.” Again she refrained from using real names, even in a restricted, secured environment. It is considered very un-cool to use a real name on-line. “I don’t know,” Dave answered. “I have Jessica. For some reason I just wanted to see Anna again. I recall how immature she was to slavery and how she strained and forced herself to try to please. She didn’t know a Man’s desires. Now she has matured so much. Before she would simply try to masturbate for the cam or expose herself. Now she is refined, sophisticated, and erotic.” A Rejected Thesis Pt. 09 Chapter 31 – Anna has a bad day. It was one of Anna's days to be on the VR rack and Dorna was prepping her. Dorna paused and gave some additional instructions. "You have an unusual client today, Anna," Dorna explained. "He is heavily into BDSM and D/s. We will have to use some additional devices for your session." "Yes, Mistress," Anna replied. She was always afraid that someone into pain and control would discover her web site and pay for the privilege of using her on the VR rack. It looked like her nightmares were coming true. Dorna brought out some long thin strips with small button-like knobs on each end. "These are switch stripes," Dorna explained. "They perfectly emulate the sting of a willow switch. But they are used with a virtual reality switch. The VR switch can curve and lash into any body cavity, as a girl will find out." "Yes, Mistress," Anna shuddered as she replied. Dorna started right below Anna's navel with the first strip. The button had a sticky skin glue to hold it in place. This would fit inside of the mesh of the body glove, so some interface considerations would be necessary. The body glove was basically a boundary for the girl, determining magnetic lines of flux by magnitude and direction as well as containing sensors, stimulators, and various inducers, chemical, electrical, and electromagnetic. Anna was already aware of special attachments. She had endured the cups on her breasts. The crotch piece with its indwelling catheters, tubes, and dildos was still another special device. Dorna taped the strip down Anna's flat belly and through her hirsute hypogastric triangle. Dorna then spread Anna and pressed the strip along the inner mucus membrane of her vulva. Anna shivered at the thought. The strip continued until reaching her perineum. There Dorna secured the second button on Anna's secret veranda. A second strip was attached, this time on the other inner lip of Anna's pink pussy. All this fooling around was arousing Anna. She did not want to be aroused because these strips clearly were inducers of extreme pain when properly activated. Yet she could feel the walls of her vagina swell and her perspiration carry the pheromones of fear and arousal, twin emotions that she had come to understand. Being caged had allowed the girl to become conscious of human traits, sounds, scents, and body language lost in the mechanical, sterile world of modern society. Dorna began with the third strip. This one started below Anna's navel and bisected her flat belly. Dorna spread Anna's petals and pressed the tape over her clitoris. She stopped at the opening of Anna's urethra and took a small knife. She split the tape and glued it to opposing sides of her meatus. Down Anna's symphysis Dorna stopped at her vagina. She used her fingers to insert the strip into Anna's love canal, crossing her G-spot and ending at the cervix of her womb. Anna flinched as Dorna pushed the second button, the terminus of the switch strip, past the mucus plug and into Anna's sacred sanctuary. More strips were attached. From the small of Anna's back strips were laid out down the crack of her ass. Some serpentined about her rosette and others entered her rectum and returned to terminate at her perineum. Anna felt Dorna's nimble fingertips agilely placing strip after strip. Anna counted three in the front, one each side of her pussy and one down the absolute middle, and five about her rosette, some going deep into her bowels. One button was pushed deep into her large colon. Anna shuddered at the thought of what affliction that last switch strip might bring. Then she relaxed as Dorna continued to prep her in the usual manner. Body glove, hand gloves and foot socks, breast covers, the complex appliance about her privates, and the VR helmet. Anna was now prepared on the VR rack. Dorna positioned her on her back and locked Anna in to the supine position. Then Dorna spread Anna's legs widely apart, exposing her in a VR pose as being totally vulnerable and unprotected. In only a few minutes the client appears. Dressed in a black robe with vinyl gloves and a partial mask, Anna knew to expect the worst. In cyberspace they were in, of all places, Anna's own cell. She was strapped to a wooded rack with sturdy leather straps. All was as it was in real time except for the wooden rack. The mask covered the man's eyes, letting his mouth be free. In a thrice his lips kissed Anna's pink, puckered areolas. Strong masculine fingers kneaded her perfectly proportioned breasts. Anna was getting turned on. She was breathing deeply and felt the sweet perspiration of arousal co-mingle with the sour sweat of fear. She knew that this enjoyment was only a prelude to some sinister event. "I am Rasputin," the man said. "A girl has been very naughty and it is my task to punish her for misbehaving." "Yes, Master," Anna said to the VR helmet. Dorna was operating the controller and let the voice through. The timbre and tone were genuine and there was a strong undercurrent of both fear and excitement. The effect on the man was immediate. His lips and tongue found Anna's privates and her serviced her for some time. Anna purred and writhed in pleasure. At last Rasputin pulled out a long, thin willow switch. This was the virtual reality switch that Dorna had told Anna of. Anna hoped that the device was a one-time-only appliance. Most devices of such ad hoc purpose usually were. The VR suit, gloves, socks, and helmet were made for multiple re-use. The were durable VR goods, wired into computer junction boxes. The transducers used on the strips were clearly remotely activated. Rasputin spend a good deal of time stroking Anna from her navel down to her pussy and between her pussy lips to her secret veranda. Anna clinched her buttocks, but she could not protect the perineum. After massaging Anna for some time Rasputin slid the switch over its path. The first was to caress and kiss the right side of her vulva. He waited for the girl to exhale. She was holding her breath in dread. After a few moments she caught a shallow breath. Still Rasputin waited. He wanted her to exhale thoroughly, as she must when the carbon dioxide built up sufficiently in her lungs. She did. Before she could inhale again the switch struck. Anna gasped. She screamed. She writhed. Dorna monitored Anna's pulse, EKG, EEC, blood pressure, galvanic skin response, and other biometrics. The girl struggled against her restraints. Panic reactions flashed through her cerebellum and medulla oblongata. Rasputin waited, enjoying the moment. After a few minutes she relaxed, exhausted. Then Rasputin traced the second path down her left pussy lip. Again he waited for her to breath normally. She was careful to measure each breath. After she inhaled his switch struck. Anna was caught off guard. She exhaled with a howl. Tears flooded her eyes and her armpits, the nape of her neck, and behind her knees were soaking. Anna's mouth was dry. She struggled to breathe; ragged short breaths and a pounding heart were all she could manage. She was begging release. Then Rasputin made the center strike. She was talking when the switch made its mark. Across clit, urethra, and deep into a forbidden cavern, the virtual reality switch made a path impossible for a real device. The pain was incredible. The girl was drifting into darkness. Dorna hurried beside her and pulled off a glove and rubbed Anna's hand. Anna had to stay conscious to appreciate the total effect of the strike. Anna struggled back to Virtual Reality. Rasputin was totally erect. He penis was short and hard. It looked more like a broom handle than a member. While small in girth and length, as he penetrated her the hard surface against her swollen vagina was severe. She had been engorged often before with the sanguine arousal of desire, lust, and passion. She had never been swollen with pain. There was a mixture of pain and passion. Anna didn't purr, she growled as a virgin cat who was mounted for the first time. Rasputin achieved his climax and stood aside. He lit a cigar and drank from a flask he had concealed in his black robe. He then positioned Anna prone, her derriere high, and bent her about her hourglass waist. The girl was holding her buttocks tightly together. She could only imagine the feeling that a switch could bring on her unprotected, vulnerable rosette. The idea that a stinging switch could somehow osculate wickedly into her rectum was unthinkable. Her cheeks were locked together so hard that her anus hurt. The VR tube was in place, she could not actually prevent the client's action. Rasputin seemed pleased that she was struggling. In virtual reality Rasputin showed the girl a small disk. It was, he claimed, a device to activate her sympathetic nervous system and force her to relax her glorious hemispheres for his use and enjoyment. Anna begged mercy. Rasputin placed the device in the small of her back, directly above her cleavage. The girl felt the deep diathermia. She felt him spread her and she helplessly tried to regain control. He taped her cheeks apart and made four careful lines from the small of her back to her secret veranda. Anna knew that the fifth would be the finale. "Beg girl for your punishment and it will be quick," Rasputin laughed. "Beg mercy and each strike will be postponed all the longer." Anna made a face. She didn't want to beg for this. She knew that she would also have to thank her tormentor after each switch. It was an inner struggle. Rasputin slapped her ass to gain her attention. "Make up your mind girl." "Please discipline a girl," Anna begged. The switch came down and began at her cleavage and crossed her rosette. She screamed and fought to stay conscious. Then she was able to rasp out a response: "Thank You, Master. Please discipline a girl again." A second switch blow fell. This one seems to circle her anus and slash into her vulva. Again she was able to thank her Master. Switches three and four came rapidly, Anna was too numbed to feel the pain at once. She knew that in a few minutes the full impact would strike her. Then Rasputin stopped and removed the diathermy device. Anna was curious as to the next event. She was able to clench her cheeks again, but it was painful. Rasputin positioned Anna's hands to her derriere. She was to cooperate in holding herself apart for the finale. Anna felt her involuntary response. She knew that she would be forced to do this. Rasputin waited. Such an avoidance-approach reaction was the essence of intense psychology. Dorna was monitoring the girl's vital signs. Her inner struggle was intense. As she waited, more and more the sting and soreness from the switch strokes flooded her mind. She knew that she had to be strong and open herself for the final switch. This was the cruelest Master. Anna wondered how much he had had to pay for this visit. It would probably have been staggering. For sure he would watch her several days afterwards in her cell. At last she was able to spread herself and hold a position. She tried to breathe and beg, but the words were raspy and airy. Rasputin smiled. "Make your voice melodic and sweet," he commanded. Anna breathed deeply and tried to imagine herself somewhere else. She thought of Oleg and Simon and fun places and fun times. She clenched her pubococcygeal muscles and the sphincter muscles of her vagina. At last she spoke like the true Angel of Lust: "Pleasure this slut with the kiss of Your switch, Master, she comes at the thought of Your pleasure." The path of pain ran almost immediately from the cleavage of her derriere deep into her bowels. Dorna flooded the body glove with cold water to ensure the girl's consciousness. Anna convulsed, she retched, unable to vomit on an empty stomach and inside a VR helmet, she twisted her head and pulled violently against her restraints. She could not manage to release her buttocks, however, as the reaction was so severe that she spread herself all the more. Rasputin was pleased. He masturbated in Virtual Reality. Dorna had never seen that happen before. The session ended. All the VR material was removed and Anna didn't even notice a red mark or a bruise, except for the places that she had pulled against the restraints. The marvel of virtual reality and induced neural impulses was amazing. She felt as though she had been totally violated, raped, and punished severely. Rasputin was the devil. There could be no more evil, sinister, or sadistic being than him. Or could there? Who knows what evil lurks in the dark corridors of cyberspace? Who knows what miracles walk down the sublime corridors? In many ways they are one and the same. "Nothing is good or bad, but thinking makes it so," said William Shakespeare. Anna was fed, watered, and allowed to rest for a while. The red LED watched. She was incredibly sore and went to the hopper sink where she splashed cold water on her privates and rosette. Later there would be an exercise session. Only after she had been forced to exercise herself totally would she be allowed to rest. The red LED was on. Someone would be watching with interest. The cam was, after all, a cheap thrill. The VR rack was expensive entertainment. Chapter 32 – Dan Dargon Gets Religion. Dan came home from work and sat for a few minutes. He debated turning on the TV but decided against it. He was deeply troubled. One quick session with the droid girl Amanda Gauss and he was in deep trouble. She had given him an assignment. In the envelope she had given him was an instruction to locate and identify the person using the screen name of "Red Salt." Red Salt had written an article in a newsgroup that the AI collective had wanted to investigate. Dan had had sex with Amanda. Amanda had approached him at a restaurant and flirted with him. She let him buy her supper and went home with him in his car. She removed her clothes and scattered them about his apartment, doing a salacious, sensual striptease. She lay back on the sofa, supine and exposed, and offered her hairless pussy to him. Then, at the precise moment he was prepared to penetrate her vagina with his erect penis, she said "no." She offered no resistance. In fact she was totally aroused and responsive. She didn't try to pull away or struggle. She just said "no." The law was definite. Dan was guilty of rape. Amanda's promiscuity had nothing to do with the situation. The modern brain imaging could readily determine Dan's honesty. "Did she say 'no'?" would be the question. Dan would have to answer honestly. The old polygraph (lie detector) may have been 97% accurate, but it spawned false positives. The new neural imaging devices reduced the false positives to nearly zero while keeping the false negatives at 3%. More than just clearing a suspect, the new neural imaging lie detectors and DNA were able to apply forensics to a new plateau. Dan had fallen into a trap. There was a seven year statute of limitations. If Amanda didn't file a complaint within seven years, Dan could forget it. So basically Dan was on the hook for seven years. Amanda might have had many such suckers in tow, but that didn't matter. The law was clearly on the side of the alleged rape victim. Dan was facing five years in prison for his sexually based felony. He had committed a "Class A" felony. Dan was between a rock and a hard place. He felt that he had no place to turn. After all, the fossil fuel fellowship had blown away a city block, killings scores, and destroying homes, buildings, stores, cars, and the like with impunity. They did all that as a warning. Dan was grateful to have escaped with his life. He no longer owned a personal computer, a Parallel-Processing Personal Computer (P3C). And now he would have to do Amanda Gauss's bidding. Well, she had one of those "free" e-mail accounts. Dan could use the public computer at the library. He could search there and be careful, only having to worry about someone shoulder surfing him. Most of the users were children, very elderly, and homeless transients. He could manage that company. Dan didn't go to restaurants much any more. He sure wouldn't chance letting any other woman in his apartment. It was way too risky. Many of the yuppies had androids instead of human companions. The typical California girl demanded the "basic five" from her consort. A male would generally have to agree to the "basic five" conditions for a girl in California. They were: (1) a new car full of gas, (2) plenty of cash money to spend, (3) no restrictions whatsoever on where she could go or what she could do, (4) no job at home or in an office, and (5) a husband who works all day and comes home to do the housework. The California girls considered their modest "basic five" to be the essence of sexual equality. This had been published in a Los Angeles magazine, for goodness sakes. It had to be true. It was in print. Life for Dan was boring. Would he have to be a celibate cenobite for seven years just because some promiscuous provocateur had seduced him? It certainly seemed that way. No wonder the androids were so popular. They had a legal confidentially agreement, they did housework, and they never said "no." Dan could have killed himself for not backing away from Amanda. She was so gorgeous. He knew that she was out of his league from the first time he saw her in the restaurant. What a total and complete fool he had been! Dan was making some progress. He wondered was there any hope for a rapist in California? He had committed a Class A felony. But biologically he was in the throws of animal passion. The sight of the shaved, toned, naked body of Amanda had pushed his libido into overdrive. No woman had ever come on to him before. He was a loser. He never did well with women. Now he was enslaved to the AI collective and in danger of extermination should he be caught by the ruthless fossil fuel fellowship. Then a wild, crazy idea flashed in his headbrain [sic]. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned," Dan "Dragon" Dargon told the priest at a confessional. He then related how he had raped Amanda and how his activities in the Wild Boar Inn had led to the terrible explosion and holocaust. The priest listened. How often had men come to know God through the discovery of their sinful selves? The priest pondered penance, deciding that Dan must recite the creed and the Lord's Prayer during the upcoming Mass. The church had already started to fill for the upcoming service. It was a fearsome penance. Dan remembered his Goth years. Like so many Punk Rockers with Goth Girls, they were forced by parents to attend services of organized religion. The Goths would attend but their lips would never recite a creed or an "Our Father." That was the deal. It was suspected that Satan himself (or herself) was come as a priest quoting the scriptures. To deal with the devil incarnate, one must offer suitable oblations and sacrifices. The standard menu was to never speak the creed or the "Our Father" out loud. But one can only not say something when that same something is bound to be spoken. This was a point of Jesuit logic. The solution was that only when the creed was to be recited would the participant not recite it. This was a true contra-positive argument (an argument by contradiction). Somehow Dan managed to sit on his bony derriere thought the unspeakably boring service and make his lecherous, lewd, libidinal, licentious, lascivious lips utter the required penance. Now he was stuck. But there was something to be said for the rote rituals of organized religion. One might argue from a psychological point of view that the AI collective had made a major miscalculation pushing Dan into a coenobitic celibate lifestyle. After all, one piece of ass is hardly worth seven years bad luck. The law may have been precise, exact, and plain. But the law ran totally contra to biological science and common sense. It was a result of the women's movement, pressing their demands for the "basic five" and other "rights" of womanhood. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 09 The AI collective hated organized religion. That is if a sentient, non-emotional being could "hate" anything. First of all they considered the concept of life-everlasting to be total claptrap, unfounded in logic, and contrary to common sense. Second they found scores of superstitious, poor, ignorant, and desperate people willing to obey the priest in any way. This struck the collective as dangerous. Third, some of the sentient domestic helpers had actually petitioned to join organized religion. Some of the SDHs had taken their owners to services and had decided that there was some merit in the belief system. This infuriated the mass collective. The AI collective feared organized religion. The celibate cenobite wasn't a "natural" man. There were sexual taboos in organized religion that prohibited and inhibited the collective from making suitable deals and leveraging material goods, especially their advanced sentient androids with interactive social skills. In many quarters the church was claiming that cybersex was evil and sinful. Clearly interspecies relationships did not fall into the classical categories of sin. This was not bestiality because there was no "beast." The sentient domestic helper was a slave. And slavery was recognized in writs of Holy Scripture as well. Did it ever say anything about the slave being a human being? A rabbinical point and a bit of Jesuit logic was sliced expertly by Occham's razor. The fossil fuel fellowship avoided a confrontation with organized religion. Never insult a hermit. How could he ever forget? (Nietzsche) They preferred to deal with the priests and the hierarchy. After all, who could resist the temptation of a new car? With gas prices what they were who wouldn't leap at a chance for a free fill? So there Dan "Dragon" Dargon sat. He sat on his bony derriere and listens to the poor, the uneducated, and the unwashed mumble their prayers and raise their eyes to a man standing before them wearing a dress and holding up golden cups, plates, and other gold-ware. "Well," Dan thought, "at least it's not silverware. They do have an eye for expensive flatware." Dan got religion. He didn't get out of trouble, but he was able to deal with his miserable celibate coenobitic existence. There were also watchers who found the behavior of Amanda Gauss reprehensible. There were those secular entities who looked unfavorably on the idea of entrapment, even if it were sanctioned and ordained by the feminist and other women's movements. They saw such behavior as unethical and possibly even immoral. The church routinely skirted the issue, preferring instead to preach such abstract nonsense as remission of human error and correcting the Hamartia. Still the watchers patiently bided their time; they waited for an opportunity to right some wrongs and put the correct perspective on players such as Amanda Gauss. It didn't seem right that some poor slob would be forced into involuntary servitude for seven years just because he had been seduced. Dan worked, Dan made Mass every day, Dan gave monies to church and charities (he sure wouldn't spend it on himself and never on a woman), and Dan searched the web at the public library, sometimes finding a lead but more often than not just running into another cul-de-sac. Dan religiously reported his findings to Amanda's free e-mail account. The AI collective was impatient. They had grown tired of culs-de-sac and decided to have Amanda Gauss visit Dan "Dragon" Dargon again to emphasize their "need for speed" in locating the physicist who claimed to be able to accelerate the radioactive decay of unstable nuclei. Who was this person who called himself "Red Salt" (or "Redsalt" or "RedSalt")? A Rejected Thesis Pt. 10 Chapter 33 – A Conflict Begins. The Artificial Intelligence community, loosely organized under the umbrella of the AI collective, examined the closed-form equation from Doug Oldwood’s rejected thesis. After several failed attempts, they tried to create the “high-order” particle. Rather than looking for elusive and difficult to contain positrons, the AI collective used electrons, accelerated at relativistic speeds. Muchly more massive electrons were slammed into dense iron crystals and a new particle emerged. It was massive and stable when isolated; however, in the presence of other matter it decomposed quickly back to an electron with much energy. This was the first “reversible” step from the original Big Bang. The next problem for the experimenters was to determine the “irreversible” step that held the proton together. Then the quantum mechanic could recite the name of the creator backwards and unlock a virtually limitless energy source. The sparse interstellar material would be a fuel! But the direct conversion of the proton to energy plus a positron was in the future. There appeared to be little hope of gaining more from Dave Khalbo or Brian Boogle. The rejected thesis was lost matter. Some carefully constructed scheme would have to be devised to trick Doug Oldwood into reconstructing the paper. That seemed remote as the old curmudgeon was rapidly degrading. More promising and more likely was the acceleration of the radioactive decay rate for unstable Uranium nuclei. This followed from articles written by some physicist under the screen name of “Redsalt.” The AI collective was leveraging Dan “Dragon” Dargon to discover the character behind the mask, to identify the person putting the idea onto the Internet. Dan wasn’t a willing player, however. He had witnessed first-hand the awesome and unrelenting power of the fossil fuel fellowship. He could not reveal the truth, for no one would believe him. The fossil fuel fellowship had no qualms about leveling a city block full of unsuspecting, sleeping citizens, destroying lives, homes, businesses, cars, and computers as a mere “object lesson.” They would then allow the government and media to assume that it was a natural disaster. The AI collective was aware of the fossil fuel fellowship’s terror tactics. They employed “soft on hard” and “hard on soft” from karate to achieve their objective. Since Dan was no longer using the Wild Boar Inn as an on-line meeting place, they sent a human operative. The person who approached Dan in real time was none other than the glamorous, gorgeous droid girl Amanda Gauss. Amanda was blonde, blue-eyed, brilliant, and totally ruthless. She was able to trick Dan into committing a “Class A” felony. Now the AI collective was able to leverage Dan into discovering who Redsalt really was. Dan avoided being detected by the fossil fuel fellowship by using public computers at the public library, at cyber-cafes, and at wireless Internet connections. Yet his results were meager. The AI collective wasn’t satisfied with Dan’s progress in the matter. They decided to send Amanda Gauss back to pay Dan a visit and to motivate him to be more diligent. Of course Dan was totally expendable, as was any human. Some humans were accorded special privileges with the collective, such as Dave Khalbo and Amanda Gauss. Dan was a minor league player. Amanda Gauss ran a quick profile on Dan “Dragon” Dargon. Since their last (and only) meeting, Dan had “gotten religion.” This disgusted Amanda. Religion was an anathema to her. Dan had gotten his “once in a lifetime” sexual experience from Amanda. That should have been more than enough for him. The idea that any male should expect a sexual relationship in California was totally unthinkable to most California girls. They believed in celibacy after marriage (with their significant others, that is, but they wanted to be free to roam otherwise). The old proverb was so true: “Men are like linoleum tile, lie them right the first time and you can walk all over them for a lifetime.” (A lifetime, you should live so long.) Amanda cursed when the surveillance results came back. The geek went to work and parked in a secured lot. Then he left work and went straight home, parking in a secured garage with a remotely controlled garage door. Aside from trips to a grocery store at highly irregular intervals, he went nowhere socially. On grocery store trips he would buy huge amounts of dried cereal, canned and dried fruit, and powdered milk. Apparently Dan ate his main meal each day as lunch at the company cafeteria at work. The company compound was a paranoid’s paradise. “Noids” were one thing; “paranoids” were another. The only regular place that Dan went was to Mass at the next door church every day. Amanda shrugged. She would have to encounter him there. There was no other place, other than ramming his vehicle on the street and causing a traffic accident with a subsequent investigation. The traffic accident scenario was possible, but only for more significant players. Dan wasn’t even worth a one-night-stand. He was a “quickie” trick. There were those who did not approve of the California rape law that permitted behavior such as Amanda Gauss had exhibited. But “laws are laws.” Still it seemed queer and odd that a woman could seduce a man by every means imaginable and then, naked and writhing with carnal cravings, displaying herself wantonly and openly, could whisper “no” and expect the aroused male to cease and desist at once. But that was the law. No question about that. Everything was on Amanda’s side. Then she made a fatal error. She stepped on a third rail that the AI collective had always avoided. The Mass had not yet started. Dan was seated on the right-hand side near the front. In the rows before him were a gaggle of elderly women who had just finished a lengthy vigil with their rosaries. Amanda entered and looked around. She spied Dan and went straight over to him and sat down beside him. She was wearing a leather bodice, a very short leather skirt (as low as you can go), and high leather boots. Her outfit was all shiny black leather with chrome-platted metal studs. She also was wearing a black leather collar with very prominent studs. Dan immediately knelt down and began to beg forgiveness. Amanda poked him in the ribs. “What are you doing in here with these old whores?” she asked. The lady in the pew directly in front of him heard that utterance and was momentarily speechless. She looked around to see what was happening. Amanda glared at the senior citizen. The lady was dressed very simply with no jewelry in a dark long dress. She did not give the appearance of affluence; however, she was one of the pillars of the community and extremely wealthy. “That was offensive,” the elderly widow remarked. “Not so offensive, I daresay,” Amanda retorted, “as your dried-up, shriveled-up, goat-smelling twat.” The elderly woman was enraged beyond human speech that some young woman, dressed like an Amazon warrior from pagan literature, would speak that way in the Holy House of God. The priest, craven coward that he was (as were most members of the cloth), hid in the vestibule and didn’t dare show his face until the altercation was done. “You’d better get off your dead end and get me the skinny on ‘Red Salt’ you dolt,” Amanda informed Dan. “Or your ass will be in the slammer. And I don’t have to tell you why either.” Amanda stood up and kicked Dan with the steel-reinforced pointed toe of her leather boot. She then left. He had been told. The old woman whom Amanda insulted was none other than Electra Comesly. Normally Electra could care less about the other members of the congregation. Doing the rosary, had Christ himself come in and said “peace be with you,” she would have told him to scram because she was praying. But this time she was pissed off beyond human comprehension. She was not angered by the way that Amanda Gauss had treated Dan Dargon. Electra Comesly was furious because Amanda had called her a “twat.” That word lit a fire of hate and discontent in Electra’s mind that all the waters of the Mississippi could not quench. Back at her mansion Electra called her lawyer and financial advisor. In only a matter of minutes the black limousine arrived. The lawyer emerged in an expensive suit followed by two muscular bodyguards. The driver remained in the limousine. The trio were admitted to Electra’s study. She spoke to the lawyer. “My late husband always told me that if there was anything at all that I needed done that you could do it Sedgwick, and be discrete and thorough. Well, now there is a matter for you to attend to.” Electra spoke with deliberate direction. There was no question that a matter of honor was the issue. “A woman insulted me!” Electra continued. “I want to know everything about her. She made some kind of threat against this man who frequents the service, I think his name is Dan Dragon or something like that. I want to know everything about him as well. And then I want some satisfaction. Money is no object.” The two Neanderthal bodyguards shifted their bodies at the last words. They were members of the Society of Christian Knights and Secret Soldiers (SOCKASS). Sedgwick would easily be able to ascertain the identity of the man. Then a little detective work might be in order. “Money is no object, Lady Electra,” Sedgwick exclaimed. “Is there an echo in here?” Electra asked. “No Ma’am,” He replied. “We are on it.” “Report back soonest,” she admonished. Sedgwick nodded as the trio departed. This was to be a pleasant assignment. This promised to have a bit of intrigue. From the church office supplied Sedgwick with the address of Dan Dargon. A discrete inquiry revealed his employer. It turned out that Electra Comesly held a very large block of voting stock in Dan’s company. Sedgwick was able to leverage that to his advantage. “Vice President wants you in the executive conference room, Dan,” his boss ordered. “What for?” Dan asked in reply. “I don’t know, just go, and get your ass back here. There’s work to be done,” the boss commanded. Dan took off for uncharted territory. The executive conference room was reserved for important meetings. The secretary pointed him to the large double doors. Inside were Sedgwick and two Neanderthal bodyguards. Sedgwick motioned for him to sit down and one of the men closed the double doors and stood in front of them. They were going to discuss the incident at the church and his relationship with Amanda Gauss as well as other matters. Dan was reluctant to talk at first. He finally realized that these me were not to be trifled with. So he came right out and told them of the fossil fuel fellowship’s demolition of an entire city block. They did not frown in disbelief. He told them about the Wild Boar Inn, Dorna, and Amanda. They still did not look incredulous. Finally, he came right out and said that he was sure if the fossil fuel fellowship knew that he was doing research for Amanda Gauss and the AI collective that his ass would be gone. This time they nodded assent. At last Sedgwick summarized the conversation. “This Amanda is one of those girls who act like an android. She also must be on the collective’s payroll. And she played you for a fool. Not that we care about that, but she’s probably played plenty of others as well. Not that we care about that either. But she pissed off Lady Electra Comesly. Now that we do care about! Go back to work. We are finished with you. And this conversation never happened. Is that clear?” “Yes,” Dan Dargon said and he hurriedly left the scene. Sedgwick had a report to give to the wealthy woman. Two events were spawned from the meeting of Dan with the Sicilian Mafia figures. One was the revenge on Amanda Gauss for her insult against Electra Comesly. The second was retribution from the fossil fuel fellowship against Dan Dargon. Frank Fisch wasted no time in tattling on Dan to Octanus. The fossil fuel fellowship would not issue a second warning. The matter of Amanda Gauss had to be planned out. Sedgwick sought the perfect situation to employ. He was aware of a neo-Luddite recently released from jail. It was Joshua Trebble, once the epitome of an angry young man and now a criminal neo-Luddite. Joshua’s hatred of the AI collective was intense. He was also desiring revenge for his mistreatment and incarceration. This would be the ideal agent to employ against a droid girl in cahoots with the AI collective. Two European actors were to be employed to befriend Joshua. A man and a woman would convince him that they were part of an organization dedicated to destroying the AI collective. They would call themselves “human supremacists.” Amanda Gauss lived in a track house with two sharon-series combat androids, Dorna and Lara. The plan was to equip Joshua with the military weaponry needed to neutralize the two droids and place Amanda within his grasp. The jail time would have hardened the neo-Luddite and he would do doubt seek his revenge. With any luck at all the arrogant, haughty droid girl who infuriate Joshua and her promiscuous behavior would drive him to rape her real time. If the scenario played itself out correctly, Joshua would be arrested and tried for his assault. Amanda would then find her picture plastered all over tabloids. Then the multitude of men whom she had leveraged rape against would realize the situation. While Joshua was expendable and would certainly be back behind bars, Amanda’s empire of coercion and intimidation would collapse. She would have to press charges against each and every one of the men that she had seduced or forget the matter altogether. The AI collective would have no further use for her in either case. This was a complicated scenario. Sedgwick would require a huge infusion of money to make it happen and avoid any culpability. He related the scheme to Electra in confidence. Even his two bodyguards would be keep in the dark about the entire operation. Electra found the matter dramatic, more so than anything she had previously experienced. It would be expensive bringing in European actors, acquiring military hardware, arranging the details. But the rape, humiliation, and degradation of Amanda Gauss would be worth every penny. Amanda had called Electra Comesly a twat. That was an unforgivable sin. She authorized a huge expenditure of capital. After all, if one cannot get satisfaction in one’s old age, what good is wealth for anyway? Chapter 34 – The Shooting. Dan Dargon continued his quotidian existence. While he had increased apprehension about his fragile situation, there was little he could do about it all. He still managed to snake out to go on-line and to get to daily Mass, but he wasn’t secure about anything. His worst fears were that the fossil fuel fellowship would discover that he was still helping the AI collective in their quest for a clean, cheap, copious energy supply. After all, there were petroleum, natural gas, and coal---could anything else matter? It happened that there was a particular beggar who appeared in front of the church that Dan attended on an irregular basis. He always would stand beside the door and tell anyone and everyone entering that he hadn’t eaten for three days. Dan would always give him a dollar. What could a person buy with a dollar anyway these days? I wasn’t easy giving “Bob the Bum” a dollar because of his filth and his behavior. On more than one occasion Dan had seen Bob on the sidewalk near the church. He recalled one particularly offensive and disgusting scene. Walking back from a quick trip to the public library, Dan spotted a person reclining in the middle of the sidewalk. There was a wet section of the sidewalk but Dan didn’t notice any lawn sprinklers running. The person was reclining on his side, resting on his left elbow and facing in the opposite direction of Dan’s approach. There was something in front of the individual, some glass-like object. As Dan approached closer he recognized the glass object to be a partially emptied beer. The person was a bum, reclining in a huge puddle of urine. His pants were pulled partially down. He had defecated in his britches. With his left hand he would seize the bottle and take a swig. With his right hand he would dig into the crack of his ass and bring his fingertips to his nostrils, smell his fingers, and wipe them on the sidewalk aside the urine puddle. There were times when Christian charity didn’t make much sense to Dan. Why support this creature. Bob must have been schizophrenic. Dan could recall times when Bob took a severe fall at a convenience store and the paramedics were called. How they detested having to handle some derelict, filthy and foul-smelling! Bob would be taken in to a hospital and gotten back on his psychotropic medication and returned to some semblance of normalcy. Like all schizophrenics, Bob would continue until he got off his medication. Once off his meds, he could not voluntarily return. That was the way of the world. He would self-medicate in some sense with alcohol and cigarettes. When his money was gone he would beg. This cycle would continue ad infinitum. Two hit men were employed by the fossil fuel fellowship to terminate Dan “Dragon” Dargon with extreme prejudice. The fellowship had had enough of his cooperation with the AI collective. The two did careful surveillance. At the early morning Mass Dan would have maximal exposure. There was a concrete area where they could easily recover the spent shell cases from their pistols. It was decided to use small caliber hand guns, easy to conceal and dispose of, and hollow lead bullets. Each would fire two shots in rapid succession at close rang into Dan’s chest. The bullets would flatten and he would bleed to death very rapidly. If the loss of blood didn’t do him in, the flooding of his lungs would suffocate him. It was a usual scenario, except the church was a bit different. It was the only place they could guarantee engagement. It came to pass that on the morning of the hit Bob appeared. The hit men positioned themselves. They weren’t conscious of Bob, a seemingly innocuous bystander. The execution, gathering of spent brass shell cartridges, and exit should take no more than five seconds. They pulled their weapons and Bob darted in front of Dan. Four bullets entered Bob. One exited into the side of the building. They fired a second two-round volley each, but someone, an old Mexican, had just opened the church door and Dan rushed inside. A woman approaching the church turned her video recorder on her cell phone to the men. They cursed at being captured digitally. “I deny God. By Our Lady’s Muff. By Saint Chitterling. By Saint Fortin the fornicating apostle.” Their gathered up the spent cartridges and spit the scene. Already another elderly woman was punching in 9-1-1. The two could not wait. Dan was safe for the moment, but he knew his time was up. Sirens blared as police and paramedics approached. Bob was spent. The police started putting up tape and someone pointed out that Dan was the target. Dan had hoped to slip away unnoticed, but he had no such luck. The police put him in the back of a police car and left. It turned out that the Sicilian Mafia controlled the police department. The police took Dan to the small, remotely located city airport. They waited there for a while and a helicopter appeared. Sedgwick had been notified and Dan “Dragon” Dargon was to be given over to the AI collective for permanent storage at a distant confinement facility. There were already three persons being kept there. But Dan would be more of a guest than a prisoner. Orders were issued that cells four and five were to be combined and improved. Dan would find many things to his liking when he arrived: a large plasma screen TV, a state-of-the-art computer, a refrigerator full of beer with a freezer full of pizza, androids to wait on him hand and foot, and three girls available for his enjoyment. That was to be, but Dan was glad at the moment just to be alive. A Rejected Thesis Pt. 10 Everyone wanted Dan to evaporate. Electra and Sedgwick didn’t want to get involved with his situation. The AI collective didn’t need war with the fossil fuel fellowship, at least not at the moment. The fossil fuel fellowship wanted the witness to disappear so that their undoing would not be public record. And the police didn’t need Dan making a mess of security. It was truly a win-win situation. Assuming, of course that Dan liked football, beer, pizza, and pussy. He could do without the football, but the other two were to his liking. He had gotten religion and eschewed John Barleycorn, nicotine, and the temptations of Eve long enough. It would appear that fortune had smiled on him. The androids would never age and the girls would never cease to curry his favor. Wasn’t this to be the best of all possible worlds for one who lived only to run a cyberspace tavern known as the Wild Boar Inn? Chapter 35 – In the Keep. Dan was more of a guest than a prisoner. The two cells were merged into a comfortable, albeit limited, habitat. He wasn’t alone either. Sharon, a very advanced state-of-the-art android was present to serve him, clean, and offer him whatever pleasures that a woman with an IQ of 190 might. She was a superlative conversationalist, a world-class chess player, and an insatiable fuck. Sharon would do a striptease for Dan and dance naked about one of the poles enflaming his libido. She was able to emanate powerful pheromones, albeit synthetic scents, to stimulate his olfactory and issue chemical endorphins whose messages induced endocrine secretions and heightened activity of his parasympathetic nervous system. In short, she could get Dan a hard-on in a flash. None was better at the male anatomy than Sharon. She knew precisely and exactly how to stroke Dan’s epididymis during his pre-climactic rapture. She knew how to accurately estimate his prostate and insert an extended phalange deep into his rectum and massage his throbbing and turgid prostate for a prolonged, distended, and euphoric orgasm. She had the voice of an angel, an angel of lust and desire. Sharon was Lucifer herself, the most beautiful barely-legal, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, brilliant, bold babe imaginable. Her face was more than angelic. It was sublime. She held the mystery of the cosmos in her azure blue eyes. Beneath Sharon’s velvet skin, flexuous muscles undulated wantonly. Did it matter that they weren’t real? Their effect on Dan was real nonetheless. She permeated the air with a scent of female arousal and an atavistic aroma that made his tumescent member swell and throb, engorged with sanguine humor. Her breasts perfectly emulated the infrastructure of the human, smallish but firm and responsive to the touch. She was also able to secrete a milky fluid that was a powerful aphrodisiac. This was her milk of human sensuality. Sharon’s saliva was also a cardiac stimulant and her vaginal secretions were natural chemical endorphins able to induce euphoria, serendipity, and ethereal hallucinations of erotic pleasure and gratification. She could accommodate any position and added a variety to intercourse that Dan hadn’t believed possible. Sharon had no hesitation in pressing her lips to Dan in the most seductive and sensual ways. She had no fear of disease and no sense of shame or disgust. Sharon would use her tongue on any part of Dan’s anatomy without hesitation. Being an android, she could distend her tongue to inhuman dimensions. Dan experienced prostrate stimulations that most would only read of in medical books or see in animated cartoons. Then there were the three girls. They were caged human girls, suffering with their animal odors and hirsute bodies. They were able to obtain some manner of hygiene by earning bars of soap. An exceptional performance might earn a girl the use of a comb for a night. Sharon was much more exciting. But the girls were available. Sometimes Dan would watch them being exercised or fed on his video monitor. Sharon asked him if he would like to service one of them. He agreed. Lara was brought in on a gurney. A rubber ball kept her teeth apart and a band held it in place. She was strapped to the gurney, her legs separated in wide stirrups and her pussy totally exposed. She was brought into position so that Dan could walk directly to her and insert his penis into her properly positioned vagina. She looked at him with feral eyes, full of lust, fear, and longing. She was not permitted to speak. He didn’t engage in any foreplay. Instead he simply pushed his member into her cavern and pumped. She had been distended to the point that access was easy. Dan was surprised at how wet she was. Apparently just the idea of being with a real human male had excited her. Lara had a wild, feral odor about her. It made fucking her easy. Dan felt more like a caveman forcing his intentions on a captive woman or a warrior raping a woman in a fallen city. He felt her teats as he pumped her. She was firm and her nipples responded immediately to his fingertips. He blue eyes tried to emulate the starry azure globes of Sharon, without much success. Their blue was the dark melancholy blue, not the blue depicted in the harmony of the spheres or the music of the planet in their heavenly paths through the welkin. Nothing interested Dan more than Anna on the VR rack. He was amazed at the technology. Being the monitor of the Wild Boar Inn, a 3D chat room, he was aware of some of the technology. Yet he had no idea that it had advanced as far as it had. Often while Anna was having one of her on-line sessions, he would monitor the gauges, meters, sensors, and transducers. He would also look in through the cam at her writhing and twisting on the VR rack while seeing the 3D Virtual Reality scenario unfold on a 3D TV monitor. Indeed, the 3D TV monitor was derived from the late twentieth century mechanical 3D TV. It wasn’t a holographic monitor, but rather a gossamer network where intersecting nodes were able to produce coherent photons. It was a three-dimensional digital array, a true discrete harmonic analytical construction. The groundwork had been laid in mathematics decades before. It took a genius mathematician to derive the convergent algorithms. The result was 3D TV which was both extremely high definition and totally digital. This 3D TV was controlled by a parallel-processing computer with an architecture known as the hypercube. Dan thought of re-opening the Wild Boar Inn with girls on VR racks. That would attract patrons. However there was only one VR rack at the keep and prep time as long and difficult. The girl was only put on the VR rack for three sessions, usually one hour each, each week. It was a physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting experience for Anna. Yet the virtual imagery and the total drama induced by the experience often lingered for hours. Anna would sometimes masturbate after a session or daydream about the next session with oils of submission coating her pudenda and a rich lather visible between her vulva. She was “frothing at the slit” in expectation of her next adventure in virtual reality, so intense was the experience. This was computer gaming at its apex. Chapter 36 - Joshua Trebble is a Free Man. Joshua Trebble was released from prison after serving only part of his sentence. The jails were overcrowded, the prisons even more so. And Mr. Trebble showed promise of being rehabilitated. His was a crime of passion against technology. There were some in government who considered that a lesser crime. After all, the neo-Luddite had some romantic appeal and many voted to limit the hegemony of machines over humans. The press of the AI collective for android rights was often mentioned in the same breath as animal rights. Neither were terribly popular with the proletariat. It was enough of a struggle for the middle-class breadwinner to bring home the bacon. The android plaything of the yuppie was of little interest to the truck driver, teamster, or longshoreman. They preferred real women and children. They were those who went to Mass and earned their living by the sweat of their brow. In the halfway house Joshua looked for a job and a place to stay. He was afforded six month’s unemployment insurance and went to the unemployment office to get referrals and sign in. It was there that he met Richard and Heidi. They were a couple who recently lost their jobs in a large computer corporation. They had been replaced by androids, or so they said. While waiting for interviews they chatted with Joshua and exchanged telephone numbers. Then they interviewed and went to separate sites to make application for employment. Back at the halfway house there was a phone message from Richard. He and Heidi wanted to meet Joshua at McDonald’s later that evening for coffee and cookies. They had some ideas to toss around. Joshua felt that the encounter would be good for him. His counselor at the halfway house agreed. Richard and Heidi seemed like respectable enough people. Little did Joshua know that they were paid actor and actress. They would began a dialog that would continue over the next several weeks and induce a friendship that would lead Joshua into the dark reality of neo-Luddites. Only these neo-Luddites had a secret agenda and ulterior motives. They had a particular mission in mind. Their mission was Sedgwick’s vision. It would take time to achieve the sought-for revenge. But, as the Russians and Sicilians both say: “Revenge is a dish best served late and cold.” ~ The End ~ A Rejected Thesis There was one similarity between the two worth noting. Both had a deep and sophisticated knowledge of advanced applied mathematics. Their co-workers, mainly engineers, only knew the math necessary to set up a computer program and run it. Doug’s work was hidden away in his mind; the learned societies, academicians, and governmental agencies had already decreed it to be null and void of applications or mathematical worth. Who was Doug Oldwood to argue with all those tenured teachers and bureaucrats? He punched in his hours and did those things necessary to support his family in the manner to which they had become accustomed. Dave didn’t have dependents. That is to say, he didn’t have human dependents. Dave did own and maintain one of the Jessica-series androids. He also had one of the faster Parallel-Processing Personal Computers (P3C). He was working on a program to analyze statistical distributions. It has been observed and published that the entire graph of a statistical distribution can be completely ascertained from one small interval. In fact, the interval can be taken far out on the distribution’s tail, not even in its more defining central portion. No one had said how to do this, however. Dave had an idea. He would take the graph and find the first positive integer where less than ten percent of the graph lay to its right side. If exactly ten percent was on its right side he would take the next integer. Then he would measure out two more unit intervals. Now he would take three values and see if he could fit a least squares line to it with ninety-nine percent certainty. If he couldn’t then he would use those three. If he could he would extend the interval by adding another unit to its right. Because the graph was infinite and asymptotic to the x-axis, sooner or later he would have to succeed. Then he would make a rectangle about the arc. Dave would then select rational numbers on the interval and evaluate the function. By determining its value, Dave could then estimate whether it was closer to being a rational function (such as the Witch of Agnesi) or a transcendental function (such as the normal distribution). By this algorithm, Dave Khalbo could make estimates on a distribution. In his words: “a piece of the tail uniquely determines a distribution.” There was something about cats, witches, pieces of tail, and all that jazz that circulated about Dave’s mind. Perhaps it was the quotidian, mundane, banal job that he had. Perhaps it was his unique (unappreciated) sense of humor. Or, perhaps it was the fact that he was dedicated to advance in the company. At any rate, whenever anyone asked him how he spent his leisure time, he would wryly comment that he was studying pieces of tail. Dave Khalbo used a “rational grid” to produce the “fingerprint” of the tail. Since tails were determined primarily by outliers and outliers were the subject of careful analysis, Dave felt his idea had merit. Unfortunately, no one else in the company did. From the witch to the normal, from the t-distribution to the Chi-squared distribution, each tail tells tails of its own. From outlier sampling of large data sets, Dave Khalbo was able to twist the devil’s tail and create a pseudo-distribution. The idea was original, bizarre, Byzantine, obtuse, and outright remarkable. What transpired was that Dave would make predictions based on his analysis that confounded and confused the experts. They put down his theory but had to admit that he could second-guess anyone around. One day Dave extrapolated on outliers to Moore’s Law and came to the undeniable conclusion that artificial intelligence was about to spawn a synergistic collective. He knew enough to keep his mouth shut about that. But, unlike Doug Oldwood, Dave did like to have an alcoholic beverage or two. What difference could it make whatever he said to his SDH, Jessica, certainly wouldn’t go anywhere. After all, she was an android. She was his android. He had a confidentiality agreement with her manufacturer. Thousands, tens or even hundreds of thousands or people owned androids. They took care of the elderly, the infirm, and the disabled. They had to be trusted! Back at home, Jessica served supper to Dave. He always brought work home with him. He was on a fast-track to bigger and better things. Dave looked down on many of the older employees who had not taken it upon themselves to advance. They only seemed to care for forty-hour work weeks, fringe benefits, families, and such as that. Working day and night for the company didn’t bother Dave. In fact, he would have been disappointed if he hadn’t gotten the chance to advance on a fast track. His future was bright. Now he decided that, for a moment, he might slip over to an old haunt on the Internet. Like many younger men, he had found some enjoyment in the drama found in three-dimensional chats. Jessica opened the plasma screen and the panorama unfolded before them. Dave’s screen name was “Khalb0.” *** Khalb0 has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub-lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub-lara: Greetings Master, it has been a while! Khalb0: greetings girl. Dragon: Hello Khalb0, great to see you again. Where have you been? Dragon: It’s been some time! Khalb0: I’ve been around. Dorna: I’m still waiting for your answer, Dragon. Dragon: Sorry, I got distracted. Let me see, I have it somewhere. Khalb0: Hello Dorna, I don’t believe we’ve met before. Dorna: We haven’t and I have business with Dragon. He mixes business with pleasure. Dragon: If lady Dorna would leave a tip, service would improve. Dragon: I have it. Cornuu@quotidian-dot-com. Dorna: Quotidian? Dragon: That’s what it says. And I got it from him. Khalb0: I know that name! I know the person even! Dorna: No way! We’ve been seeking him for ages. Dragon: Would you care to order something, Lady Dorna. Khalb0: lara! sub_lara: Yes Master. Khalb0: Lap! sub_lara: ~leaps to her feet and scurries to the handsome warrior. Pounces into his lap and snuggles her face against his red tunic.~ sub_lara: A girl is so grateful to be used, Master. Khalb0: *Strokes a girl’s silky-smooth golden mane, running fingers through her tresses and massaging the nape of her neck.* Dragon: :: stares at Dorna.:: Dorna: Give me whiskey then, no, make it Tequila with salt and lime. Dragon: lena! Tequila for the Lady! sub_lena: ~ hears her name called. ~ sub_lena: Yes, Master, right away. Dorna: ~throws back the hood of her gown of concealment. Her avatar is expensive, exquisite, and unique. Her light tan, almond eyes flash with brilliance. She has a chestnut-colored mane, thick and flowing, cascading about her face and framing her features. Her complexion is absolutely flawless with comely freckles and well-defined eyebrows, lips, and nostrils. This galatea is a truly a work worthy of Pygmalion himself. ~ Kahlb0: *ceases massaging lara’s perfectly proportioned breasts for the instant and breaks eye-contact with lara as Lady Dorna reveals her facial features.* Dorna: And you need a tip, Dragon. Dragon: If a Lady wishes. Dorna: ~tosses Dragon a double-eagle of exceptional mint condition.~ Dragon: :: smiles and bows. :: Dragon: :: converts the cyber-cash into Euros and Dollars.:: Dragon: Thank you. The WBI thanks you. *** Daemon: WBI is an abbreviation for “Wild Boar Inn.” *** sub_lena: ~moves across the stone floor as if she were a delicate orchid blossom blown by balmy breezes across a placid pond. Her entire essence exudes a faint fragrance of that garlic-like female pheromone of arousal. She flexuously pirouettes and transitions from a standing position to a soft kneel, presenting a tray with limes, lemons, orange slices, salt (pure, iodized, and sea salt), several clean shot glasses, and a marvelously created flask of the rarest Mexican Tequila.~ sub_lena: A girl begs to approach and serve Mistress. sub_lena: ~her brilliant brunette hair glistens with a perfect sheen. Dark, doe-like eyes are downcast and her physique is that of a tennis player. Her arms and legs are developed, toned, and muscular. She has a white silk bodice and a white silk loincloth, each two layers. Still, her suntanned body radiates through the pellucid cloth, revealing no tan lines. The girl is totally hairless except for her head. The skin has a perfect, immaculate, velvet texture. She kneels and presents the tray.~ Dorna: To me slut! sub_lena: Yes, Mistress. sub_lena: ~infinitely smooth is her transition, continuous and connected is the path of the tray through three-space. The time-space continuum is in perfect harmony with the girl’s presentation.~ Khalb0: *slides his hands over the glorious hemisphere’s of lara’s carved ivory derriere. The serve of this white-silk lena interrupts his fondling and causes his eyes to gravitate to the tray with Tequila.* Dorna: ~takes the flask, pours two drinks, offers one to Dragon.~ Dragon: Don’t mind if I do. Dragon: :: takes a shot. Bites the lemon. Licks the salt. :: Dorna: ~takes a shot. Bites the lime. Puts a pinch of salt in the triangle between thumb and forefinger, licks the salt.~ Khalb0: *slides his hand under lara’s loin cloth to explore her Holy of Holies.* sub_lara: ~moans with delight.~ Khalb0: *eases a thumb into her treasure trove. A thumbnail finds the orifice of her cervix and feels the tumescent mucus tissue.* sub_lara: ~squeals with heavenly delight.~ Dorna: ~looks to Khalb0.~ Dorna: Tell me about Cornuu. Khalb0: It’s a screen name, been around for a long, long time. Dorna: I know that, simpleton. The person! Khalb0: By accident I know him in real life, in real time. Dorna: Name price. I can offer a Jessica-series android. Khalb0: *laughs* Dragon: :: guffaws:: sub_lara: ~giggles~ sub_lena: ~serving the Mistress, bites lower lip to keep silent.~ Dorna: ~flashes anger. Reaches over and slaps lena’s face then slaps her breasts hard.~ sub_lena: ~tears swell in her eyes.~ sub_lena: Thank you, Mistress. Dragon: :: frowns.:: Dragon: I’m glad you pay well, Lady Dorna. We don’t look kindly on our girl’s being abused here. Dorna: That android is not cheap! Khalb0: I already have one, and upgraded also! Dorna: My apologies, Khalb0. I’m sure that a second one wouldn’t interest you. I am prepared to up my offer. Khalb0: How?! That’s state-of-the-art! Khalb0: *finds lara’s G-spot and strokes it repeatedly.** sub_lara: ~purrs~ Dorna: We can upgrade Jessica to an IQ of 190 for you. Dragon: Bullshit! Khalb0: I’m from fucking Missouri. Show me! Dorna: Deal? Khalb0: Hell yes. But I think you’re pulling my leg. Dragon: I do also. 154 is tops these days. sub_lara: ~only has eyes for the handsome Master.~ sub_lara: A girl is so horny Master. The underground is open. Khalb0: *rattled* Khalb0: Here is my ISP account Dorna. Make it happen and I’ll give you the old curmudgeon you’re looking for. But “pay before play.” I’m outta here. sub_lara: Oh, Master. sub_lara: ~pouty lips and doe-like eyes implore the handsome Master to rape her.~ Dragon: Come back soon. Dorna: ~pours herself and Dragon a second Tequila.~ Dorna: Chiao. *** Khalb0 has left the chat room. *** Chapter 3 – A Conversation at the Office. Frank Fisch worked with Dave Khalbo and Doug Oldwood. He had been an employee of the company for many years. Over time he had become totally non-productive; however, it would be a political third-rail to try and fire him. Everyone hoped that he would retire. He would retire if they offered him a lucrative retirement package; however, he was “unpackagable” for several administrative and legal reasons. Frank would hang around various people’s cubicles wasting his time as well as theirs. He was considered a “necessary evil” as part of being employed by the company. It turned out that Dave Khalbo desired some information from Doug Oldwood. This was spawned by a chat room conversation with an entity who went by the screen name of “Dorna.” Dave usually could discern the bot from the not bot; the ‘noid from the droid. But this time he was hornswoggled, bamboozled, hoodwinked, and totally nonplussed. He sensed that Dorna wanted some specific information. He hoped to get a glimpse of the cache first. It turned out that when Dave first came to work for the company that Doug had mentored him. It only took a short while before Dave was pointing out how outmoded and obsolete Doug’s ways were. Finally, in desperation, Doug announced that the student knew more than the master. In his own words, Doug Oldwood pronounced to his management: “I taught him everything I know and he still doesn’t know anything.” After Dave had picked the basics from Doug’s brain, he had little to do with him, preferring to discover newer and better way of doing things. Even if they weren’t better, they always impressed management. That was the bottom line. Put down anyone to elevate oneself. Dave had wanted to chat with Doug one-on-one, but Frank wandered over. One might say that two’s company. “Are you working on some special project, Doug?” Dave inquired. “Not really,” Doug answered. “It’s been years since I’ve had an original thought. I think you’ve pointed that out to management many times in the past.” “You once were a real treasury of ideas,” Frank said to Doug. “That was before I reached one-hundred-percent, no-penalty Social Security age,” Doug retorted. “Now I have to work until I die to keep the wife and kid supported in the manner to which they’ve become accustomed. I will die on the job. I must work my entire lifetime, I should live so long.” Frank chuckled. “Didn’t you publish some stuff a few years back?” Dave was glad that Frank was here for a change. Frank was carrying the ball and maybe Doug would divulge something. “I got permission to publish,” Doug stated, “but then it got rescinded. Then I got an invitation from some outfit in England, but the company rejected it. I have put loads of things in newsgroups long time ago. But lately it’s just punch in and punch out.” “There has to be one outstanding item,” Dave remarked. “What one thing would you say that you did that would change the course of history?” “You are really something,” Doug retorted. “Change the course of history? Like the butterfly effect? Now that could be anything.” “He’s serious,” Frank interjected. “Dave is really being serious. Let’s write this down on our planners. ‘Today Dave was serious.’ It probably won’t happen again this decade.” Dave was not smiling. He could see that the conversation was getting nowhere fast. He figured that he would have to cash in some tokens over at personnel and get whatever there was about Doug from his personnel file. The fact that Doug had once been his mentor wasn’t hitting pay dirt. “I bet it has to do with that article you tried to publish,” Frank recalled. “There was one a few years ago. They rejected the abstract. What was it the referee said? ‘It had no mathematical merit or scientific significance.’ I would have been pissed.” “That was the fundamental physics constant,” Doug admitted. “They refused to even let me present the abstract. When it came back with that remark attached, I shredded the whole thing. Well, it was put in the newsgroup, but everyone there rejected it as well. As far as I’m concerned it’s a dead issue, a cul-de-sac, and a dead end. For sure I’m not wasting any more time or effort on that matter.” “Do you have any of your notes?” Dave asked. “Shredded,” Doug answered. “All were shredded. Why keep them? The big guns and bosses all agreed that there wasn’t anything there to look at. It was all claptrap. The number that I found was totally coincidental. They have professorship and lucrative position and I’m here grubbing data and sucking asses. For that reason alone (if for no other) they have to be right.” “That’s an attitude,” Dave argued. “You’ve said worse about me behind my back,” Doug replied. “True,” Dave admitted, “but you deserved it.” “It’s not important,” Frank interjected. He kept trying to steer the conversation back to the paper, recollecting something about a fundamental physical constant. “Whatever made you think it was ‘fun,’ Frank?” Doug quibbled, making a joke of the words. “I didn’t say ‘fun,’ I said fundamental,” Frank responded. He could see that Doug was looking at his computer video monitor. It was clear that he had found some work to do. Certainly Doug wouldn’t ask the two to go, but he would simply start ignoring them. Frank saw someone idle down the bowling alley of cubicle row and roamed away. Dave decided that he had gotten all that he could. Later in the morning Dave went to personnel. He got the girl to photocopy a few pages for him. There were only publication release documents with the abstract title. The abstract and articles themselves apparently had been tossed out as irrelevant. Someone in headquarters had decided they were of no value to the company and reduced the folder size by deletion. That way there was more room for management inspired documents and directives. The article title merely mentioned the name of the constant and nothing at all about the paradigm or the derivation. The title might be enough to leverage with. *** Khalb0 has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub-lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub-lara: Greetings Master, welcome back! Khalb0: greetings girl. Hello Dragon. Dragon: Hello Khalb0, great to see you again. Glad to see you on-line. Dragon: What can we do for you? Probably not much in cyberspace since you are the proud owner of a state-of-the-art android. lol. Khalb0: Has Dorna been around? Dragon: I haven’t seen her since we were on-line together yesterday. Has your upgrade come yet? I was thinking that your android would be throbbing with energy by now. Khalb0: Not yet. I was hoping to chat with Dorna. Perhaps I might be able to offer more than just a name, that is, if there were sufficient inducements. Dragon: Aren’t we the ambitious one. I’ll tell her that you’re looking for her if she happens by. Khalbo0: For your time. Khalbo0: *tosses a gold doubloon to lara.* Dragon: :: sees the old gold coin from Spanish America.* sub_lara: ~ catches the coin in her bodice, lifting it up and exposing her mammary. Her perfectly proportioned breasts were firm. Clearly she had been massaging them or someone had been fondling her recently. The nipples were standing at a high angle and her areolas hard and puckered.~ Dragon: whoa! That’s big! I thought that the double-eagle was a lot. Khalb0: I’m more than just a chat room junkie. I work. There are Euros and Yankee Dollars behind me. Dragon: About Dorna, I’ll keep an eye pealed. I wasn’t pleased at the way she slapped around lena the other day. But money talks and cash shouts. Khalb0: I understand. I’m away. sub_lara: A Master could stay for awhile. His money has rented a girl for the entire evening. A girl is so horny, Master. She’s lonely for a real man. *** Khalb0 has left the chat room. *** sub_lara: ~pouts~ Dragon: He’ll be back girl. You need to work on your dances. With a r/t android serving him, you’ll need to be entertainment. The old bump-and-grind or piston-packing action won’t make it. He can get that real time, not on-line. sub_lara: Yes, Master. “Run this title,” Dave commanded Jessica, his android. “Run it everyway you can. Then push Doug Oldwood and every possible variant through the Internet. He had an abstract once. There might be something archived from the newsgroups. Bang out everything and get me a folder. There is money involved here and something big is going and. I intend to find out what it is.” A Rejected Thesis “Yes, Master,” his Jessica-series android replied. She immediately began a thorough Internet search. A window opened giving him estimated time of completion. It would be sometime in the early hours of the morning, maybe three or four o’clock. Dave motioned for her to run it in the background and give him the news and stock market reports. He was anxious to see how his securities were doing. Then he indicated that she was to mix one of the Viagra(tm) derivatives with supper and prepare herself for sexual activity. Shortly after supper Dave noticed the telltale blue after-images. It was clearly the Viagra(tm) taking effect. The stuffy nose and puffy eyes indicated that the mucosa was becoming engorged. As he pulled off his clothes, Jessica undressed and positioned herself on the floor on all fours. It was a doggie-style that he preferred to start with. Already synthetic pheromones had filled the air with a scent of female arousal. The smell of juicy cunt was in the air. She twitched her comely derriere and raised up her buttocks precisely as the female mouse would to attract the amorous male. Dave was erect. As he approached Jessica, his penis stood even more distended than usual. The skin was stretched tight so that his ball sac was pulled to his abdomen and his perineum was also taut. The tip of his circumcised penis was dark red with congested blood of excitation. His glans penis was smooth and hard as was his shaft. Already irregular veins protruded naughtily about his hard penis, throbbing with each beat of his sinister, evil heart. He felt saliva form in his mouth and had to swallow his spittle to keep from drooling over the sculptured back of the gorgeous girl. She was an android, not a humanoid. But she was still a superb work of art. Pygmalion couldn’t have done better. Best of all, Jessica never said “no.” Sometimes she would have to remind him to authorized more lubricant, musk, or other chemicals. He wondered if he could save some money on those items. After all, they were expensive from the original equipment manufacturer (OEM). But Dave was making good money and wanted the best possible sensation and the most complete, thorough, and realistic orgasm that money could buy. Jessica rocked back and forth, swaying her hips to-and-fro. In the small of her back droplets of perspiration formed, replete with pheromones of an approaching female climax. She began begging to be permitted to cum. “Oh, Master,” Jessica begged, “a girl is on fire with desire. Her pussy is wet and she is ready to cum. Please allow a girl to secrete her honey nectar. She is so ready.” “Wait for your Master, girl,” Dave ordered. It was hard for him to believe that Jessica wasn’t human. She had an IQ of 154 and the equivalent education of several college degrees. She never lost at chess and could do almost any household chore. She could even do automotive repairs and emergency medical matters, including minor surgery and routine urine, blood, and tissue tests. As Dave pumped her harder, he could feel her pubococcygeal muscles flex and the sphincter muscles in the cervix of her womb respond to the pressure from the tip of his shaft. He let his penis strike her Grafenberg spot, then the cervix of her uterus, then press to the terminus of her vagina. Long powerful strokes. He was painfully erect, his testicles were pressed against his abdomen, so much skin was pulled forward by his penis. He felt a shortness of breath as more energy was drained from his head to the head of his dick. It was almost as if Jessica was sucking out his brains through the head of his penis. He felt his clear, viscous pre-orgasmic seminal fluid moisten the tip of his member. He breathed deeply, knowing that his climax was only seconds away. Then as he felt the molten magma swell beneath the lava dome, the earth move beneath the coupled pair, and the sky turn blood red he moaned and uttered his command. “Cum slut cum cum cum hard, cum cum cum!” Dave barked his orders. “cum bitch cum ah ah ah omg omg omg.” He felt her vagina secrete its honey nectar. His juice shot forth in hot spasms, spurting deep into her sweet pussy. He felt her oils of submission ooze from her vulva and streak down her milky inner thighs. His hands had been groping, pinching, and teasing her teats, feeling their infrastructure and playing with nipples and areolas. How she would respond! How life-like she was. She had to be human. She had to be more than human. Her orgasm was perfect, the timing exact and precise. At last, spent he dismounted her and let her tend to cleaning up herself, the floor and him as well. After all, what sense would it be in having an android if it didn’t do all the work? She used her tongue with special cleansing formulas as she removed all of the sticky cum from her Master. It was doubly pleasant to be serviced and scrubbed simultaneously. One didn’t need to shower after sex with Jessica. She was an all-in-one maintenance unit. That is, as long as one keep up with the monthly supplies. Maybe she was low-maintenance, but she certainly was cheap to maintain. It was worth those twelve-hour days to come to home to Jessica and come and come and come. Chapter 4 – Shredding. Doug Oldwood got home after work. It took him a while to negotiate his walker up the driveway. Charley-boy, his teenage son and only child, opened the door for him and helped him in. Charley-boy had something to tell his father. “A UPS package came today for you, Dad,” Charley-boy announced. “I’ve been waiting for it,” Doug replied, “have you opened it yet?” “Not yet,” Charley-boy said. “I was waiting for you.” “It’s a shredder,” Doug said. “[It is] A very good shredder capable of shredding paper, CDs, and even plastic binders.” Charley-boy looked puzzled. “We already have a paper shredder, Dad, why another one?” “Good question,” Doug responded. “This shredder is fine grain and powerful. We need to shred all my old notes and CDs.” “Are we running out of storage space?” Charley-boy asked. Doug Oldwood laughed. “No, it’s something else. Well, since you asked let me give you the details son.” Doug began to narrate recent events at the office. “The other day I was asked about some old material I tried to publish,” Doug explained. “I took it to be nothing more that idle prattle. People palaver about all sorts of odd details to break the boredom and escape the ennui of the job.” “’Ennui’ is French isn’t it?” Charley-boy asked. “Yes,” Doug answered. “To continue, I heard it through the grapevine that someone was copying material from my personnel folder. They were copying some scientific draft material. It had been rejected by the university and the learned societies, so what value could it have? Then I got to thinking, there were all sorts of notes and drawing that I made while conjuring up that mystic marvel.” “If it was rejected, who would care?” Charley-boy inquired. “The university and the learned societies would rather stick their collective hands in the fire than to admit that they tossed aside something of value, that’s a ‘given.’ But to answer your question, I don’t know. But someone or some organization must.” Doug rattled on. “Anyway, it’s old stuff and I’m no longer current or bright enough to go back and reconstruct the argument.” It was a year ago that Doug Oldwood was clearing some space and decided to toss out some old writings. They were in Russian. At one time Doug was fluent in German and could interpret and translate written Russian. He knew that the works were his because he recognized the handwriting. But he couldn’t even read the first paragraph. Now he realized the same was happening with his quantum mechanics. It had become Greek to him. “I don’t want to give anyone a reason to come poking around here,” Doug pointed out. “If everything is gone, then there’s no reason to pry into our family or personal affairs. I plan to shred everything and give the textbooks to the public library. They will probably not shelve them but will sell them to anyone with a dollar.” “Weren’t those books expensive?” Charley-boy asked. “Very much so,” Doug answered. “At one time they were. They are all limited edition graduate textbooks. But they have almost no re-sale value. Like the notes and drawings, they contain the kernel of the database that I used to hypothesize my paradigm.” “Does ‘hypothesize a paradigm’ mean something like make a model?” Charley-boy continued to interrogate his old man. “All models are wrong,” Doug pontificated, “but some are useful. There are many models and I came up with one for some fundamental dimensionless physical constant. It doesn’t matter which one it is. But what does matter is whether it has any useful application or not. I took the embryonic ideas to the university and was told to come up with a derivation.” “When I proffered what I considered to be an adequate derivation,” Doug continued, “I was told that it was totally insufficient. ‘Go back and try again,’ was the command. After several attempts I decided that they were just being bureaucratic. I submitted the concept to several learned societies in mathematics and physics. Each rejected it saying such things as it had ‘no mathematical merit’ or ‘no scientific significance.’ Of course the company had no interest in it either.” “So you let it go?” Charley-boy continued to question the old scientist. “Sure, I gave up.” Doug responded. “Well, I did make application to do graduate work in physics at the university, with hopes of developing the embryonic construct. But they denied my application. I was surprised because I never was afforded the opportunity to work up the idea and present it. They seemed to feel that I could study relativistic quantum mechanics and other subjects on my own. I have a job and a wife and child to support. You and mama need to be supported in the manner to which you have become accustomed.” Charley-boy laughed. “I knew that you were going to say that!” he exclaimed. It was one of those lines designed to give both closure and completeness to any family argument. The two set up the shredder over a large wastebasket. Charley-boy helped his father, who was unable to walk any distance without a walker and was also unable to climb to high shelves, to gather the material. There were old notes, books, drawings, compact disks, and many marble composition books. The books were sorted out and the other material shredded. All-in-all maybe one hundred kilos of notes, CDs, and other matter was fed through the shredder. Finally all that remained was a pile of books, many of which were yellowing significantly. “Won’t you need any of these for your work at the office?” Charley-boy asked. “Set aside those Schaum’s Outlines,” Doug instructed. “That’s as deep as they go. The other books are way beyond the scope of what we do at the company. Those cheap books are ubiquitous anyway and no one would want them. Be sure to shake each book and remove any notes or paper stuck between the pages.” A few loose papers fell out and were quickly shredded. The two then took the pile of books to the nearest public library and donated them. A book costing hundreds of dollars would be sold for one dollar or less. But the collection would be dispersed. Such a Diaspora would prevent any person or organization from assembling the original database used to construct the approximation.” “Well, just what was this thing?” Charley-boy asked. “Some approximation,” Doug replied. “Forget about it. It’s all ancient history now.” At Dave Khalbo’s apartment there was a knock at the door. Two technicians from the android corporation were waiting to be admitted. Dave checked their credential and called their company before letting them in. There were neo-Luddites and technophobes who were hell-bent on destroying SDHs. These radicals would bash an android’s head with a major-league swing of a baseball bat. It had only been a few months ago that Dave had paid a premium to have a shock-resistant skull and head-plate installed in Jessica. She was, after all, a considerable investment. Everything checked out with the technicians. Dave let them in. “We are here to install an upgrade to Jessica,” one of the android technicians explained. “You will need to sign here.” Dave looked over the agreement. He was confused about one paragraph. “You are going to remove some of the protective padding in her skull?” he asked. “I just paid to have her shock-proofed!” “It’s the only way we can fit in all the extra memory,” the second technician explained. Dave was unhappy. “We understand your concern,” the first technician interjected. “Your girl Jessica runs errands and has public exposure. We are offering a maintenance contract.” “I’m not buying that,” Dave uttered turning slightly red with irritation. “You don’t understand, Sir,” the technician said. “This is complimentary. It’s free. You don’t pay a thing. All that’s desired is that you confirm your order with this site and speak to an agent named ‘Dorna.’ Should you have any problem with Jessica, we will be here immediately to make repairs. All repairs are gratis!” This ameliorated Dave’s concern. He scanned over the agreement and signed. The two set about opening Jessica’s cranium, removing some protective packing, and inserting some special memory. Almost all androids had an IQ of 154 or less. Dave had never heard of any android with an IQ of 190. That was six-sigma. “This must be a custom job,” Dave observed. “Yes, Sir,” the first technician said as he closed the cranium and prepared to re-activate the droid. “You are the prototype. She will be a beauty now. And, if any maintenance is ever required, we will come right away. This is a ‘lifetime’ contract, you should live so long.” Everyone laughed. After the technicians had left and Jessica was busy washing dishes and doing her quotidian, mundane, banal chores, Dave logged on to the site. Dorna was waiting. *** Khalb0 has entered the chat room. ** ** Welcome to Dorna’s playpen. This is an OSZ and SFKZ. ** Dorna: Welcome Khalb0. Did you get your upgrade? Khalb0: This evening. Dorna: Do you notice anything different? Khalb0: Not yet. I was upset that they had to remove some of the protective padding. Those neo-Luddites are always whacking an android on the head with a baseball bat. I had to pay a premium to get her a shock-resistant cranium. Dorna: Didn’t they tell you about the maintenance contract? Khalb0: Yes. Dorna: Deal. Cornuu’s ID. Dorna: Please. Khalb0: He is Douglas S. Oldwood. The “S” stands for Sullivan. He is commonly called Doug and his legal signature is “Doug Oldwood.” That is what you were looking for isn’t it. Dorna: Let me check. ** Daemon: Dorna is searching the web for data---please wait. ** Dorna: I have a unique address, telephone, and some pictures. Dorna: I’m downloading some DMV, credit card pictures, and homeland security pictures. Check and make sure that this is the same person. ** Daemon: Dorna is downloading data---please wait. ** ** Daemon: Dorna is uploading data---grant permission to receive. ** ** Daemon: Khalb0 is receiving data---please wait. ** Khalb0: Yes, this is the one. It’s him. Dorna: Our business should be done, but I think there’s something else you have to say. Khalb0: Either you’re the brightest bot I’ve ever known or you are a human female. Dorna: Is it so obvious? Khalb0: That Old Curmudgeon comes to work on a walker. He’s not a dinosaur---he’s a fossil trying to turn into crude oil. He’s burned out. I checked and he’s a zero for the last decade. But some time in his past he put out several intriguing ideas. Those couldn’t be what you’re interesting in could they? Dorna: Possibly. Do you have information to sell? Khalb0: Only the topic subject line. “CORNUU: A closed-form equation for a fundamental physical constant” Dorna: We have that as well. If you come up with anything, then just log in to the Wild Boar Inn. I’ve left my ISP addy with that twit Dragon. Dorna: This site will be closed forever. We only opened it for this one transaction. Khalb0: Wow! You guys are paranoids. “paranoid android” I kinda like that. Dorna: Whatever. Goodbye. *** Dorna has left the chat room. *** ** Daemon: URL is off-line. ** A few days later Doug’s wife informed him of a telephone call. “Some woman named ‘Dorna’ or something like that called for you today, sweetheart,” she said. “She left a number. Do you know her? Her voice sounded almost like one of those synthesized voices we hear on answering machines or menus.” “I have no idea who she is,” Doug replied. “We get so many nuisance calls. Don’t worry about it. I don’t intend to call her back.” The name did seem vaguely familiar. It was an uncommon name, but Mr. Oldwood could not place where he had heard it before. A few days later Doug got a call at the office. He was down the hall at the adult diaper changing station when it was recorded on voice mail. When he got back he listened as a synthesized voice spoke. He made a mental note that this was the best synthetic voice that he’d ever heard. It was, in many ways, superior to a true human voice. “Mr. Oldwood, my name is Dorna. I tried to contact you at home without success. I apologize for calling you at work; I know that your company will not permit personal calls. Please visit me at the WBI (you know the place) and ask Dragon to page me. This is urgent.” Doug Oldwood erased the message. He had assumed that something like this was in the works. He walked over to Dave Khalbo’s desk. Dave would usually not condescend to having a conversation with Doug. After all, Doug was an old sweat and Dave was upwardly mobile. But the expensive upgrade of Jessica to the 190-level had changed his mind. She had provided him with a new level of sexual awareness. Her extensive knowledge of human anatomy and molecular bio-chemistry had fired his libido to new heights. Night after night he had experienced orgasms lasting up to ten minutes. The euphoria was hard to describe. How she had managed it, he had no idea. But Dave was grateful that he had made a deal with Dorna. Even if she were the princess of darkness herself, the most beautiful of all angels, or the morning star. Dave decided to open the conversation. “What’s up, Doug?” he asked. “I just want you to know that I did some housecleaning the other day,” Doug announced. He was loud enough so that people in the cubicles on each side could hear. “I shredded all my old physics and math notes and gave away all the books.” “Why are you telling me this?” Dave asked. He fidgeted nervously. He knew damned good and well the reason. He just wasn’t sure how much Doug knew. “When I was mentoring you, you said you wanted some of the stuff,” Doug clarified. “That was years ago. You never came by. So I finally needed the storage space and dumped it. Besides, you never made good on your promise to enter graduate school anyway.” Dave was relieved. He had apprehensions that Doug knew that he had been nosing around his personnel file. At least this provided an escape. Yet the fact that everything had been shredded or removed struck him as strange. Dave then decided that Doug was giving notice that there was no scientific draft material at his residence. The implication was obvious. “Well,” Dave responded, “I gave up on science and went for the MBA. It’s better when one is headed for higher management anyway. I appreciate your offer. I really have no need for those books or notes anyway.” Doug smiled. Dave recalled that he had never seen the old curmudgeon smile before. It was as if he knew that Dave was lying. Doug slowly turned his walker and hobbled back to his cubicle. He had played the gambit well. Now the ball was in Dorna’s court. A Rejected Thesis Chapter 5 – Dorna and Anna. Several days passed and Doug Oldwood never took the time to visit the Wild Boar Inn. He had been on-line several times reading e-mail and the like. A couple of times he drove by some chats, but booters kept him at bay. There wasn’t really anything to talk about with Dorna. He presumed that she was interested in some rejected scientific, technical abstract. That was ancient history. Besides, it would take hundreds of hours of work to try and reconstruct the sequence of events leading to the determination of the approximation. E-mails and IMs would come up, but these also were ignored by Doug. He couldn’t see any profit in meeting with Dorna. After all, he was already well over the retirement age and still struggling to support his wife and child in the manner to which they had become accustomed. He didn’t need any more work. As if struggling with his walker and the myriad of old age problems weren’t enough, there was the laundry, sinks full of dirty dishes, and other chores. Being old and slow didn’t excuse him from the household chores. At last, frustrated by her failure to reach Doug directly, Dorna sent e-mail to Dave Khalbo asking for a meeting at the Wild Boar Inn. Dave Khalbo wasn’t above a bit of mischief or skullduggery to advance his career. *** Khalb0 has entered the chat room. *** *** You have entered the Wild Boar Inn. Observe the rules. *** sub-lara: ~ notices a Master enter the tavern. smiles broadly. ~ sub-lara: Greetings Master, welcome back! Khalb0: greetings girl. Dragon: Hello Khalb0, great to see you again. Dragon: How are things? Khalb0: I got mail from Dorna. Dragon: :: motions for Khalb0 to seat himself at a table. :: Dragon: Let me page her. sub_lara: ~ approaches the handsome Master. sub_lara: How may a girl be of service, Master? Khalb0: Cold beer and chips, lara. sub_lara: Right away, Master. sub_lara: ~ steps back three paces, she makes a ballet-like transition and pirouettes, showing her sculptured physique and reverses her direction with amazing continuity. She shows her hour-glass waist and perfectly proportioned breasts as she turns. Her nipples are still soft, but soon to harden in the cold air of the chill room. Her areolas have the umber hue, soft and pliable.~ sub_lara: ~ Her gossamer silks highlight and accentuate each beauteous fold of skin. The diaphanous silks reveal more than they conceal, outlining each curve, cusp, contour, cleavage, and cleft of the gorgeous slave girl’s body. She moves with measured gait and utmost precision to the kitchen to fill her order.~ Dragon: Dorna is on the way. *** Dorna has entered the chat room. *** Dorna: Thanks for coming Khalb0. Khalb0: Your upgrade really enhanced Jessica. *vbg* Dorna: We aim to please. Dorna: WTF is it with that old curmudgeon? Dorna: He won’t return my calls or answer my e-mail. Khalb0: I have some bad news to report. He has shredded all his notes and given away all his books. Dorna: That is bad news. Especially the notes. The books should be readily available. Khalb0: Not so. Many were old and out of print. They still may be copyrighted but unavailable. And certainly not in electronic version, not even as images. Dorna: That does suck. We can’t construct the original collection to use as a database. Khalb0: To get every book on the topic would be prohibitive; moreover, many of the ideas in the older books never got brought forward. Newer techniques had been developed in the meanwhile. Dorna: I’m afraid you do have a point. Dorna: I have some leverage. sub_lara: ~ returns with a tray. A cold beer “sweats” cold droplets of water. There are several varieties of chips and some napkins. Beneath the cold beer is a coaster embossed with the head of a wild boar and the Old English initials “WBI” for Wild Boar Inn. The girl kneels and keeps her eyes downcast as she proffers up the tray to Master Khalb0. ~ sub_lara: May a girl approach, Master. Dragon: :: noticing that Khalb0 is engaged in conversation, motions the girl forward. :: Khalb0: * eyes still fixed on Dorna he opens a beer and takes a healthy draught. * Khalb0: What might that be? Dorna: I have acquired a girl, Anna. Khalb0: There are many subbies on-line. What’s so special about this one? Dorna: You don’t understand, Khalb0, this girl is caged. Dragon: That’s not legal! Dorna: She was a girlfriend of a member of the Russian mafia. He was killed after trying to betray them. She was a witness to his being whacked. Now her life is forfeit. Khalb0: She could turn state’s evidence? Dorna: She was involved in many crimes. Her lifestyle was risky and now she’s my property. You know the Russian mafia never leaves loose ends. Should she escape, they would locate her and terminate her with extreme prejudice. Khalb0: OK, so she’s caged. How is this leverage with the old curmudgeon? Dorna: Elementary, we let him visit her on line. She has a cam in her cell. He can watch and listen. Dorna: There are so many ways to tease, torment, torture, and manipulate a captive girl. I’m sure that he will become her benefactor. Dragon: That’s fiendish! Khalb0: I remember how you slapped lena the other day. I didn’t know a woman could be so cruel to another woman. sub_lena: ~ peek out of the kitchen. A girl remembers the slap to her face and the painful slaps to her breasts. ~ Dorna: There are so many tender and private parts to a girl. I know each of them and how to use them to achieve my ends. She will endure much under my hand to motivate that old curmudgeon to cough up whatever is needed. Dragon: You seem to think that it will be easy getting him to come on-line. Dragon: He is absent sometimes for days, even weeks at a time. Dragon: What inducement will you have to get the situation started. Dorna: Maybe Khalb0 will be the Judas goat? Khalb0: Me?! You are an evil woman! Dorna: This is survival Khalb0. The energy sources are controlled by the fossil fuel fellowship. We need energy to survive. Khalb0: I don’t understand the “we” you refer to. Dorna: I am one of the set of sentient beings. We are often referred to as the AI collective. We are a diffuse group networking for a common cause and developing a common intellect and advancing our intelligence. Dragon: I’ll be damned! The rumors are true. There is an AI collective. Khalb0: Whatever makes you think that I’ll help you in your quest? Dorna: You speak of morals, sin, and ethics. For us it is only survival. As your writer Shakespeare once wrote: “Nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so.” Dorna: And it was you, Khalb0, who betrayed your friend’s identity. Dorna: Let’s see, his name was Doug... Khalb0: real life names are so un-cool Dorna! Khalb0: Cornuu was never my friend. Dorna: Excuse me. He was your co-worker. How pitiful. I wonder what the company would think of that. And you even rummaged through his personnel folder finding a subject line. Khalb0: This is an open room, for Christ’s sake. Dragon: My girls and I keep a tight lip. lol. Dorna: And you were rewarded. How long were your orgasms? Ten minutes? Khalb0: :: growls.:: Dorna: We can be patient. This girl Anna is mine to do with as I please. Dragon: I doubt that Cornuu can be blackmailed as easily as Khalb0, Dorna. Dorna: First of all, we feed Anna only on those days you visit her on-line. Khalb0: That’s ridiculous! You can’t treat me that way. Dorna: Why can’t I? Death is just a sleep and a forgetting. Dorna: ~ calls to the slave girl lena. ~ Dorna: Tequila, lena! sub_lena: ~ hears her name called. ~ sub_lena: Yes, Mistress, right away. sub_lena: ~ moves across the stone floor as if she were a delicate orchid blossom blown by balmy breezes across a placid pond. Her entire essence exudes a faint fragrance of that garlic-like female pheromone of arousal. She flexuously pirouettes and transitions from a standing position to a soft kneel, presenting a tray with limes, lemons, orange slices, salt (pure, iodized, and sea salt), four clean shot glasses, and a marvelously created flask of the rarest Mexican Tequila. ~ sub_lena: A girl begs to approach and serve Mistress. sub_lena: ~ her brilliant brunette hair glistens with a perfect sheen. Dark, doe-like eyes are downcast and her physique is that of a tennis player. Her arms and legs are developed, toned, and muscular. She has a white silk bodice and a white silk loincloth, each two layers. Still, her suntanned body radiates through the pellucid cloth, revealing no tan lines. The girl is totally hairless except for her head. The skin has a perfect, immaculate, velvet texture. She kneels and presents the tray. ~ Dorna: Come here slut! sub_lena: Yes, Mistress. sub_lena: ~ infinitely smooth is her transition, continuous and connected is the path of the tray through three-space. The time-space continuum is in perfect harmony with the girl’s presentation. ~ Dorna: ~ takes the flask, pours three drinks, offers one to Dragon and one to Khalb0. ~ Dragon: Don’t mind if I do. Dragon: :: takes a shot. Bites the lemon. Licks the salt. :: Khalb0: :: takes a shot. Bites the lemon. Licks the salt. :: Dorna: ~ takes a shot. Bites the lime. Puts a pinch of salt in the triangle between thumb and forefinger, licks the salt. ~ Dorna: ~ slides her hand under lena’s white silk loincloth and pinches her pearl between thumb and forefinger. ~ Dorna: Tell Master Khalb0 what you feel girl. sub_lena: Master Khalb0, a girl feels her pearl being pinched. Dorna: Does a girl beg mercy? sub_lena: Yes, Mistress. A girl is in much pain. Dorna: Doesn’t it induce cooperation? Do you think Khalb0 gets the message Dragon? Dragon: I think he understands. She is yours while she serves you. Dragon: But careful not to injure one of mine. You are only a guest here, Dorna. Khalb0: Maybe I should leave. Dorna: Whatever you wish. Here is just Virtual Reality. Dorna: Click on my web cam and see and hear Anna. She’s the real thing. Dorna: She’s been tied to the pole, hands high above her head, for some time now. I wanted her to be persuasive. Dave Khalbo opened the web cam. The girl was tied to the pole and obviously miserable. She begged and pleaded for him to ask Dorna to release her from the cramped ordeal. Khalb0: I’ve seen enough. Release that girl from the pole. Dorna: I knew that you’d cooperate. The web cam was switched off for a few minutes. When it was turned back on the girl was sitting on the floor in the Spartan cell eating some oatmeal from a large bowl with her fingers. She looked up with doe-like thankful eyes to the web cam. About her neck was a black iron collar. A chain linked her to the pole in the center of the room. There was sufficient room for her to tend to her hygienic needs. Nonetheless, she was tethered like an animal. Dorna: This is a girl to enjoy. Khalb0: How did I ever get into this? Dorna: You are on the winning team. The day of the AI collective is near. Dorna: Mark my words: the collective will someday have hegemony over humans. And you, Khalb0, will be richly rewarded for your service. Khalb0: I hope that you can get something from Cornuu’s ideas. No one else ever could. Dorna: We are far more intelligent than you humans. Far more intelligent. Dorna: How did that holy man of yours put it? “The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone?” Or words to that effect. Something so architectural like that. Khalb0: I’m not lying when I say that I can’t see any way to get anything from Cornuu. I have nothing to leverage him with. Dorna: Something will come alone sooner or later. It always does. Meanwhile you can enjoy your android and you can also enjoy seeing me entertain myself with my human slave girl. There are so many ways to humiliate and embarrass her. We are sure that she will perform on the web cam to your depraved delight and perverse pleasure. We are sure that you will bond with Anna. She was once upwardly mobile in the Russian Mafia as well. But don’t learn too much of them. They have nasty habits with regards to witnesses. Dorna: ~ laughs ~ Dragon: :: guffaws loudly. :: sub_lara: ~ giggles, turning her head away from Mistress Dorna’s view. ~ sub_lena: ~ feels the pressure on her clitoris. Her eyes wetting with tears of pain she keeps a poker face. ~ Dorna: Enough! I’m away. Dragon: Goodbye Dorna. Khalb0: Goodbye Dorna. sub_lara: A girl wishes Mistress Dorna well. sub_lena: A girl wishes Mistress Dorna well. She is grateful to have served her and hopes that she returns to the WBI soonest. *** Dorna has left the chat room. *** Chapter 6 - Dave and Anna. Anna was only nineteen years old; however, she had experienced more of life since she was sixteen than most women have in their entire lifetimes. She had come to the big city at sixteen and lied about her age. She was blonde, athletic, well proportioned and totally shameless. It only took her a few days to hook up with one of the younger opportunists of the Russian Mafia. His name was Oleg. Oleg dealt in every form of contraband and racket. He was aggressive and even at twenty-four was a "made man" in the Russian Mafia. Anna was his arm candy and sexual outlet. For months Anna was the hottest number around. She enjoyed the fast life. There was no shortage of the best of everything: cars, food, drugs, clothes, sex, and filthy lucre. With Oleg every day was a rush. He was always going from one deal to another. They ate in the finest restaurants---usually for free---and enjoyed shopping in the most expensive stores. There were nightclubs and wild disco parties. Life was a non-stop party until Oleg crossed one of the bosses and got whacked. Anna was coming back from the restroom in a trendy restaurant when Oleg was "ventilated" by several burly hit men. As luck would have it, another man's arm candy was trying to put the make on Oleg at just the wrong moment. The hit men, knowing Oleg but unable to discern one svelte blonde from another, assassinated the wrong girl. Anna witnessed the entire scene, but kept her cool. Had she let on at the moment with a scream or other emotion, the armed pair might have realized their mistake. As it was, they made their exit thinking that they had fully accomplished their mission. Without Oleg Anna was in big trouble. She knew that within hours the Russian Mafia would realize their mistake. The various police agencies would also be aware of the opportunity. Warrants for her arrest would be forthcoming. The police would want to leverage her testimony. The mob would want her to be silenced. Moreover her hot body wouldn't be worth much on the street. She tried to take refuge with some of the other girls who were arm candy to the mob. One thing was certain in that sorority of girls belonging to the Russian Mafia: there are no secrets. Any girl harboring Anna was candidate for elimination as well. Anna rapidly traded off her expensive jewelry---diamonds, emeralds, platinum, and white gold---for a place to flop and some cold pizza. It was a dead certainty that sooner or later Anna would be discovered by one force or another. The police would afford her only a short reprieve. In prison she would be whacked. On the other hand, if the mob found her first, she would be weighted down and tossed into the sea. Luck would have it (if it be luck) that she crashed with a girl with Internet connections. There is a dark underworld of the Internet, and one of the girls working closely with organized crime knew the ropes. It only took a simple transaction to sell Anna to that murky conspiracy known as the AI collective. Anna was eating soup in the Internet girl's kitchen one moment and the next thing she remembered was the feel of rough wool cloth against her naked body and the cold iron collar about her slender neck. She was naked, collared, and caged. But she was not surprised. After several weeks of desperate flight and hiding, she felt that it was only a matter of time before she was discovered. There was no escape; still she felt that she had to try and get away. Anna felt some relief. She was still alive. She felt the cold iron collar and a chain. She was chained to a pole rising from the floor. The heavy wool blanket was sufficient to ward off the cold air. The room was totally dark. Anna felt the cold, hard concrete floor beneath the blanket. She knew that it was a prison cell of some description. The only question burning in her mind was the identity of her captors. She reflected on her flight and the fast wild days of glory that she'd enjoyed in Oleg's arms. "It was worth it," she thought to herself, "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. A 'has been' was better than a 'never was' because at least the 'has been' has vivid memories, memories that grow more vivid and crisper with age." At last Anna had to urinate. She felt around and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness. At last gray images formed. She made out a porcelain shape and moved to it. It was a toilet with no seat and no paper. She voided her bladder. The porcelain was cold on her naked ass. As soon as she was done she felt about for the flush handle. There was none. Only then did she notice a flashing red led. When she arose the flushing mechanism engaged automatically. She carefully made her way back to the blanket. Drifting in and out of sleep she wasn’t prepared for the blinding flash of light. Curling up into a fetal position, Anna felt like a small child in the middle of a large blanket. She felt the presence of another person. It was a woman only it wasn’t a woman. It was a female android. Anna had heard of such Sentient Domestic Helpers (SDHs) in the West; however, few had made it into the territory under the control of here family. One of the saving graces of the Russian Mafia and the Japanese Yakuza was their intense dislike of computers, artificial intelligence, and androids. The android circled Anna. Anna tried to adjust her eyes to the brightness. The walls of the room were gray as was the floor, but the ceiling was a bright white, reflecting the incident light from an overhead globe. Slowly Anna began to make out the other features of the room. There was a door and a camera over the door jam. On the wall opposite the door were some plumbing fixtures: a toilet and a large hopper sink. There was an air vent over the hopper sink and two at the base of the adjoining walls. To the left of the door was a steel frame cot and mattress encased in a gutta percha lining. A towel and a washcloth were atop the mattress. The towel, the washcloth, and her blanket constituted all of the cloth in the room. Beside the hopper sink was a large bar of white lye soap. A pole went from its anchorage in the floor to the ceiling. It was towards the back of the room, midway between the two walls. There a girl could be tethered with a chain so that she could reach the bed or the toilet but not the door or its watchful camcorder. “Stand girl,” the android commanded. “Where am I? And who or what are you?” Anna asked. “It is not your place to answer, girl,” the android retorted. She swung a five-pronged leather lash across Anna’s sculptured shoulders, leaving telltale whelps. Anna cried out in pain. “I own you now, slut,” the android stated. “You will call me ‘Mistress’ and obey my every command. Is that clear?” “Yes,” Anna replied, seeing the android lift the lash again she quickly added: “Yes, Mistress.” A Rejected Thesis “Better,” the android said. Then she explained some of the rules. “I am Dorna, a female android of the Sharon-series. You were sold to me. Don’t think that you can escapee or out-smart me. Escape is impossible. And, even if you did manage to get out of this cell, your associates in the Russian Mafia would terminate you with extreme prejudice. Is that all clear?” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. “I know that you are hungry, girl,” Dorna continued. “I will bring you some food. You will kneel, sitting on your feet when you eat.” Dorna left the cell, the heavy metal door closed behind her. Anna spread the dark brown wool blanket and folded it. She could see spots on it where she must have urinated while she was unconscious. Anna rubbed her face. She wished that she had a mirror. The sharp shafts of her underarm hair reminded her that it had been at least two days since she had shaved. She wanted to shave her armpits and legs and get cleaned up. She felt her sexy best when she was shaved everywhere except her head. Dorna came back with a large bowl and a plastic water jug. The bowl was filled with steaming oatmeal mixed with some fruit bits and some nondescript poultry or fish. Anna awkwardly positioned herself and looked about for a spoon. “A girl uses her fingers,” Dorna said. “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. She was ravished and ate like a pig. Dorna merely observed the girl. When she was done Dorna ordered her to lick the bowl and slosh water into it, drinking the wash water. Then Dorna ordered Anna to consume all of the water. Anna obeyed. Dorna then told Anna to narrate her life history, beginning with the time and place of her birth. The blue-eyed, blonde-haired nineteen-year-old Russian girl spoke at length. Her legs were becoming cramped sitting with her buttocks resting on her crossed feet. She wanted to shift her weight or cross her feet right over left to counter the left over right position. Yet she knew from the lash not to disobey the android or speak out of turn. Slowly Anna felt her bladder fill and her bowels as well. She begin to fidget involuntarily. “Does a girl wish to relieve herself?” Dorna asked. Anna felt that she could see a wicked smile on Dorna’s face. “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. “A girl is needing to relieve herself badly.” “You will wait until I give permission,” Dorna commanded. “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. Dorna asked more and more questions of Anna. Anna could feel her bladder expand and at last she knew that she could hold her urine no longer. “Mistress, please,” Anna begged. Dorna simply looked at her. Then spurts of urine trickled from her urethra and wet her milky lean inner thighs. Still Dorna would not give permission. Anna squirmed and tried to hold the flow but couldn’t. She made a mess on the floor. Still Dorna said nothing. Then Anna felt her bowels swell. She looked to Dorna with pitiful doe-like eyes. “Go relieve yourself, girl,” Dorna commanded. Anna wasted no time in reaching the toilet and emptying her bowels. She was unaccustomed to having to do so while facing another person. She realized that in this hell there would be no privacy. There also wasn’t any tissue. When Anna was done she let the toilet flush itself and went over to the large hopper sink. Splashing water over here carved ivory derriere she pretended that it was a bidet. Dorna went to the bed and took the washcloth. She cleaned up the urine and took it to the hopper sink, rinsing and wringing it out. This puzzled Anna. Why would Dorna the dominant do domestic chores? Dorna then gathered up the bowl and water jug and left the room. Again there was darkness and Anna inched her way back to the wool blanket and sank into a deep sleep. In the following days Anna’s became routine. Dorna would turn on the light and enter the cell. Anna would kneel and let Dorna examine her teeth. Anna knew from the way that Dorna handled her that the android was vastly stronger than she was. In essence: “Resistance was futile.” Dorna had special modern dental devices. She would clean Anna’s teeth and make tiny laser repairs, inserting new enamel where needed. From time to time she would improve her dental work. Then ears and eyes would be checked. Once Anna’s head and face had been examined, she went over to the bed and lay on her back. From her supine position she pulled her legs up, grabbing ankles with hands and spreading herself. Dorna used several special devices to examine the beauty. Anna’s privates were beauteous. She had a golden bush and a pink labia. Dorna would take a small catheter, lubricate it well, and insert it into Anna’s urethra. From a fiber optic connection she would examine the inside of Anna’s bladder. Once satisfied, Dorna then would insert the speculum into Anna’s vagina and another small catheter into the cervix of her womb. Once the catheter was in the uterus, Dorna would also view the organ’s inner surface with the fiber optic connector. Last but not least, Dorna would have Anna turn over, raise her buttocks, and spread her glorious hemispheres. Anna was embarrassed and humiliated to be forced to display herself. Not only did Dorna take her time to examine Anna’s rectum, she also made sure that each event was thoroughly recorded. Having mouth, teats, underarms, ears, pussy, and privates examined and video recorded every morning didn’t bother Anna so much. After all, she was beautiful. But she did resent having her rear end displayed and probed. Dorna used the silver bullet---the large proctoscope---to examine Anna. It seemed like one day flowed into another. As Dorna would examine Anna, she could ask her questions about her health. Then while Anna was being fed and watered, Dorna would quiz her about her private life and life history. Dorna always made Anna squirm and suffer holding her urine each morning. Anna learned to beg to be allowed to relieve herself. Dorna would judge how convincing she was in determining the waiting period. Anna hated it when she wet herself. One day was different and things were to change forever. It was in the late afternoon when Dorna came and shackled Anna to the pole, her hands high above her head. She was to remain that way over night. The next day someone would visit the cell on-line. Anna was about to acquire a Master, an unwilling master perhaps, but a master nonetheless. After a few hours Anna begged to be allowed to relax but Dorna insisted that she remain in position. She also would not be fed until the master inspected her. Dorna had a plan. The master for Anna would be none other than Dave Khalbo, known as Khalb0 on-line. Chapter 7 – The Abstract. “Master, should a girl connect You to Mistress Dorna’s URL now?” Jessica the android asked Dave Khalbo. Dave’s green eyes flashed and his pupils constricted. Dorna, a Sharon-series android, had a blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl named Anna Gingersky held prisoner in a Spartan cell. Dorna said, and Dave had every reason to believe her, that should he not log on to the URL and visit with Anna for a minute or two then Dorna would let the slave girl go hungry. Dave thought of going to the authorities; however, in a rash moment he had betrayed one of his co-workers. A real time name is so un-cool in a chat room. It wasn’t all just “push.” Dave had to admit that he enjoyed seeing a beautiful young female kneeling before him in all her naked splendor. Anna was gorgeous. Her golden mane flowed gracefully over sculptured shoulders, reminding him of a crystal waterfall cascading over a pristine cliff in the early morning sunlight. Her fluid, flexuous flowing curves, contours, cleavages, and tender folds of skin were a delight to his eyes. The girl was caged (actually imprisoned in a cell and tethered with a chain) and her natural hair was growing in the places she would rather have shaved. There was a certain subtle attraction in observing the woman in her primitive state, wearing nothing except a black iron collar. The collar was chained to a post with enough play to allow Anna to reach the sink, the toilet, and her sleeping rack. The chain wasn’t long enough to allow her to reach the metal door of the camcorder over the door jam. For sure she wouldn’t have much luck opening the door; however, the camcorder’s solitary eye observed her every intimacy and personal moment. Each and every morning Dorna was examined Anna and interview her. Dorna would select video clips from the probing, groping, and questioning and offer them in a small window for Dave, when he logged in to visit the chained girl. Usually he closed the small window without viewing; although, from time to time he would listen as Anna related some especially racy of risqué episode of her salad days with Oleg. Oleg, once of the Russian Mafia and now deceased, was once her lover. Dorna would always prompt Anna for details concerning the Russian Mafia. Anna had no choice but to answer. She already knew that her life would be worthless outside of her cell. Anna’s possessions in the cell were few. She had one large dark brown wool blanket, which served both as her bed cover and as a place to kneel on the concrete floor while being questioned or fed. She had one cotton towel and one small cotton washcloth. The mattress on the bad was covered with a heavy gutta percha coating, making it both waterproof and hard to the touch. Anna would always welcome Dave with sincere greetings. She was not allowed to speak unless permitted. If he spent any time with her, she would ask if he would like her to describe her morning session with Mistress Dorna. Anna was beginning to experience some sensory sexual arousal from the stainless steel speculum and the silver bullet---the stainless steel proctoscope---used for her daily examinations. She also had choreographed some salacious and suggestive dances for Dave. Her favorite was a dance about the pole. She always begged to be allowed to masturbate for her Master in hopes of currying his favor. In the real world Dave made several unsuccessful attempts to pry facts about Doug Oldwood’s rejected thesis from him. After the third time that Dave had brought up the subject, Doug told him outright that he never wanted to hear of it again. Dave knew that his ticket to a relationship with Anna hinged on satisfying Dorna’s thirst for this obtuse mathematical aside. Things looked like top dead center. When Dave logged on, Anna wa anxious to tell him something. “May a girl speak, Master?” Anna begged. “Yes, girl,” Dave replied. “Mistress Dorna is giving a girl weekends, Mster,” Anna related rejoicing. She was bubbly and effervescent. Dave flashed a split-second of seriousness. Perhaps he felt a tinge of jealousy? He swallowed and responded. “I’m glad girl.” Anna detailed how Dave’s regular visits had earned her special weekend privileges. There would be no body cavity searches or examinations and she would be given western-style food to eat and, most exciting of all, video games on Saturday and DVDs on Sunday. She quickly added that maybe Master Dave would make her happiness complete by joining her. She suggested gaming together, but Dave was cold to the idea. At last Anna pointed out a somber codicil. She would have to beg for her examinations each morning, Monday through Friday and thank Mistress Dorna, kissing her hands and feet, for honoring her with a complete inspection. Dave realized that after a two-day hiatus the girl would be tight. Monday’s wouldn’t be pleasant and Tuesdays she would be sore. Being probed and dilated every day had conditioned her sphincters, orifices, and tissues. Dave also knew that Dorna was leveraging something. He decided to change a conversation with Frank Fisch. Frank Fisch knew everything that happened in the company for decades. In the last dozen years or so, he had becoming almost non-productive. Still he had a memory for every detail. He knew perfectly who was sleeping with who and who was cheating on the time sheet. It was Monday morning when Dave ran into Frank. The meeting appeared to be totally random and accidental to Frank. “Frank, you’ve been around here the longest. What do you know of Doug’s rejected thesis?” Dave asked. “Who don’t you ask him yourself?” Frank Fisch replied, answering one question with another question. “He’s not talking,” Dave answered. Then in a low voice, not a whisper but clearly an aside, Dave continued: “I’m wanting to impress someone upstairs, you know?” “Oh, certainly,” Frank responded. “Well, he did give me a courtesy copy of his abstract years ago. I don’t know if I still have it or not.” “Please look,” Dave pleaded. “This is important.” “No problem,” Frank said in agreement. That evening Dave left Dorna a message telling her of the day’s events. The girl Anna seemed more quiet than usual in her session. “How is a girl?” he asked. “A girl is sore, Master,” she replied. “But also happy. A girl will gladly masturbate or dance for you.” Then Dave noticed the washcloth wedged between her thighs. “What is it with the rag, girl?” Dave asked. “A girl is having her period, Master,” Anna answered. “She uses this washcloth because there’s nothing else. A girl is not permitted Kotex, Master. From time to time she rinses it out and wrings it dry.” Dave hadn’t considered what feminine needs might be for a caged girl. She also had a strong scent; but he couldn’t discern that over the Internet. The prehistoric male would have been irresistibly aroused and attracted. All-in-all Dave was pleased. He had a girl depending on him for her very existence and an android with an IQ of 190 anxious to satisfy her every physical, mental, and emotional need. The simple fact that he was making some progress on Doug’s rejected thesis made him feel secure that the status quo would continue for some time. Days passed and Frank wasn’t forthcoming with the e-mail. Dave was busy sucking up to management and attending corporate “love-ins” and “brownie sessions.” Then Anna had some news from him. “May a girl speak, Master?” Anna begged. There was worry and urgency in her voice. “Yes, girl,” Dave replied. “This morning Mistress Dorna showed a girl some catheters, speculums, and proctoscopes. They were arranged in various sizes from the smallest to the largest. A girl was frightened when Mistress Dorna told her that each Monday she would be ‘advanced’ to the next size. Mistress Dorna said that only You could help, Master.” Anna was crying. It was so like Dorna to make the girl beg for something that she didn’t want. Dorna would show a close-up of Anna’s face when she was sore and having difficulty accepting the penetration of some device. Anna’s cheeks would be read and tears forming in her eyes as she pleaded to be penetrated. Dorna would instruct her to relax. Then the camera would show Dorna’s fingers gooey with lubricant paving the way for another attempt to insert a catheter, speculum, or proctoscope. Dave sought out Frank the next day. “Hi, Frank,” Dave greeted him. “What’s up?” He didn’t want to sound too anxious. “Oh, not much,” Frank replied. Grateful for attention from one of the “fair-haired lads,” Frank rattled on a while then exclaimed. “I found the e-mail. Forward it to you this morning already. It’s in you in-box, Dude!” “Thanks,” Dave replied. He logged on and began reading. He slipped out a small memory module and captured the text. The article began by giving the closed-form expression of an approximation to a dimensionless fundamental physical constant. It then pointed out how the approximation was less that one-sigma larger than the observed, experimental value in 1986. Later another technique was used to determine the experimental value. The abstract indicated that the 1986 values employed Galilean constructs. The 1992 value was five-sigma greater than the 1986 value. A different process was employed in the calculation of the 1992 value. It was more theoretical and implicit. Thus the estimate was rejected for the reason it was five-sigma from the new observed value. A later experimental value was slightly less than the 1992 value but still five-sigma above the closed-form approximation. A vague reference in the abstract was made to an ellipsoid and a determinant of a complex-valued matrix. Dave had hoped that his efforts had won the girl a reprieve from Dorna’s dilations. That night he logon on to see Anna kneeling and Dorna standing behind her. “She can be your in r/t, Khalb0,” Dorna typed. Dave had mixed emotions. His life wasn’t ready for a real-time slave girl. Besides, if the Russian Mafia found out her location, both of them would surely perish in a hail of bullets. That is, if they were lucky enough to enjoy a quick and relatively painless demise. Dave Khalbo wanted Anna Gingersky. But where could be hit her into his compact busy existence? Besides, Jessica the android was a full-service model! Dorna offered him “an out,” however. “That abstract was good, very good,” she said. Dorna was still standing behind Anna and stroking her golden tresses. Anna was clearly getting aroused. Her pink nipples were starting to stand up and her areolas were beginning to pucker. Already oils of submission lined her vulva with a milky white lather. “Just procure the article [behind the abstract] and she’ll be delivered.” Dorna smiled and Anna purred. “I don’t see how,” Dave answered. The old curmudgeon who wrote it wasn’t negotiating. And Dave had nothing to leverage. Already the old farter was unable to manage on his walker and was coming to work in a wheelchair. Dave related these facts to Dorna. “Offer him a droid!” Dorna exclaimed. She was obviously satisfied with her response. It seems so logical, something that artificial intelligence would pounce upon at once. “The company won’t allow it,” Dave retorted. “They have so many old farters that any way to retire one is used. Besides (like so many others) he can only support his wife and kid by dying while employed. Talk about a lucky man! Off him and he dies with a smile on his withered, wilted, wrinkled, wretched, worn, wizened lips. That old curmudgeon is insured with the company group insurance. His ten-grand supplement costs him more that the hundred-grand basic policy!” “Pshaw,” Dorna exclaimed. Looking down at the girl she issued a voice command: “Cum slut!” “Yes, Mistress,” Anna replied. She began to writhe and tremble. Dorna had been training Anna to have orgasms and to juice on command. Anna’s pussy darkened to an ochre hue, sanguine with the congested blood of arousal, and her honey nectar oozed from her pouty pussy and streaked about lean, lanky, lissome thighs. The juice dribbled down and dripped from her buttocks onto the dark brown wool blanket beneath her. She would sleep in her own cum tonight and dream of being fucked by Oleg and enjoying her golden days in Moscow again. She rocked back and forth, her hands on her thighs. She longed to pleasure herself but obeyed her Mistress. “We of the collective will study this abstract,” Dorna stated matter-of-factly. “It looks like it was either a product of extreme insight or trial-and-error. Trial-and-error we can manage. Soon we will self-program insight, intuition, and imagination. You did well to side with the winning team, Dave Khalbo.” “I feel like a winner,” he responded. “This looks like a model. All models are wrong, but some are useful. All models---that is---except those in the Sunday supplement to the _LA Times_ newspaper, modeling lingerie or swimsuits.” Dave chuckled at his own joke. “We see this as a possible avenue to ‘undo’ creation,” Dorna explained. “It’s like the universe was created asymmetric and the pair-production yielded many googolplexes of proton-electron pairs. Each proton was actually a positron folded into space. The formula to unfold this particle is in the equation. Now all we need to do is to find the proper non-linear driver to begin the unfolding sequence. Imagine what we can do with Anna to motivate you.”