The programming rooms were in the basement. Brendan, as head programmer, found himself spending more time in the elevator than anywhere else these days. Everything that had been hashed out at startup - sourcing, clothing, basic programming and upgrade options, just to name a few - was being rehashed just before the product was scheduled to launch and it was draining the hours out of his workday. He was exhausted, despite the fact that he was only twenty-six and taking ViralViril.
What he should do, he told himself as he got into the elevator yet again and hit the B2 button, is pass around the product testing. It wasn’t that he wanted all that virtual virgin pussy for himself, though that was nice, but that he actually cared about quality. More than once he’d tested product and sent her back, usually to Martin Bleaker, who wasn’t as good at programming as the rest of them.
When Ben asked him to send a list of sources for male product to Mr Clock, Brendan had added Bleaker along with all the football players from high-school who’d beaten him up for being an RPG nerd. Chances were there wasn’t anything illegal in Bleaker’s past, but it couldn’t hurt. Brendan just hoped no one had put him on a list. There were a few things he could get busted for, maybe not enough make him eligible for the conversion and programming but enough to make him worry about it.
Martin Bleaker met him at the elevator, his black hair slicked back and his beak of a nose protruding into Brendan’s personal space.
“We gotta talk, boss,” Martin said, taking a small step back to let Brendan out into the dim hallway.
“What’s the problem?” Brendan asked as he started down the hall to his office. Martin kept pace with his long, thin legs.
“Saffron in Room Twentyone. She’s shorted out her temporal lobe.”
“Did you get Mike to take a look at her?”
“Yeah. He said ditch her and start on the next one.”
“Then do as Mike recommends, Martin. Send her down to B3 for an autopsy.”
“I don’t want to,” Martin whined. It sounded like chalk on a blackboard and made Brendan wince.
“Why not? We’ve had this problem before. There’s no solution for that type of wetware malfunction.”
“I like her.”
“I liked her, too, Martin,” Brendan sighed as he unlocked his office door with his passkey. The lights came on automatically to reveal a large room, a cluttered desk on one side and a bed on the other. Brendan noted that Dee Ann was sleeping on it, snuggled under the covers. He wished he could snuggle up with her.
“You can’t get emotionally involved with the product,” Brendan continued, talking to himself as much as to Martin, as he shuffled the mouse around to get his desktop out of sleep mode. “Gas Saffron, take her down to B3, and take the rest of the day off if you need to. You can start on the next one tomorrow.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Martin whined as he slammed the door shut behind him. Brendan could hear him stomping loudly on his way to Room Twentyone. He shrugged his shoulders and tried not to think of the woman Martin had fucked up and to whom he’d just handed a death sentence.
“Hey, Sir,” came a sleepy voice from Brendan’s left. He smiled wanly at Dee Ann as she stretched and pushed the covers away from herself.
“I fell asleep after taking all those tests.” She sounded apologetic.
“It’s alright, Dee. You need your sleep. It’ll help you integrate all those new skills.”
“Like typing?”
“Yep.”
“And pole dancing?”
“That you already knew how to do.” Brendan sat down at his desk and started reviewing tomorrow’s product.
“I did?”
“Uh-huh,” he said distractedly. He noticed Jane Hadding’s latest was ready. She always made good product. Brendan tended to pass the tough ones on to her and he was never disappointed. The thought of testing Jane’s Elena made his cock twitch.
“What else did I already know?”
“You get to remember it all if your Executive allows you to,” Brendan said. He looked over at her. She was sitting now, naked, on the edge of the bed. Her large breasts seemed to pull her forward, her hands appeared to grip the bed to keep herself upright. Brendan was always suckered into the view even though he knew it had been programmed into her to unconsciously act as though her breasts were going to knock her over any moment. He was a tit man, after all.
“When do I get to have an Executive?” Dee Ann asked plaintively. She parted her knees and her lips slightly, as if she needed one immediately.
“All the SSI executives have SecSlaves at the moment,” Brendan lied, knowing what she’d say next.
“Are you an Executive?”
“In a way,” Brendan said with a little smile. Dee Ann smiled back at him, showing her perfect white teeth. He was dazzled, of course. He’d managed to keep Dee to himself for a month now. She’d tested perfectly for the basic programming and he’d taken the liberty to install upgrades, including those mammoth breasts.
“Can I-” Dee caught her breath as her cheeks flushed, “Can I serve you in some way?” Her brown eyes flicked down to his crotch then back up to his face, “Any way?”
This was his favorite part. After each upgrade and feedback test she forgot nearly all of her month in his office, starting the same series of questions as her mind tried to figure out on whom it ought to imprint. Nearly every day she tried to imprint on him and he never got tired of how it was new to her each time, how hot and wet and needy.
“Yes, there is something you could do for me,” Brendan said as he rose. Dee’s eyes caught the flash of his belt buckle and she looked at his crotch with an intense lasciviousness, nostrils flaring, eyes softening, her deep breath expanding her already sizable chest.
He stood before her and her eyes nearly crossed, staying focused on the fabric between her face and her desire.
“You can take it out,” he said softly.
Dee Ann caught her breath and whispered a trembling, “Thank you, Sir.” Her hands shook as she unzipped his trousers. She reached in and pulled out his cock. The faint scent of his earlier sex session reached Brendan and he smiled slightly. This wouldn’t be as nerve-wracking as using Brynly. Besides, he was a tit man.
When the new SecSlave bent her head to kiss his member Brendan caught hold of her chestnut brown hair, stopping her. She closed her eyes and waited for him to tell her what to do.
“Use your breasts,” he said in a quiet voice.
Dee Ann gathered her mounds in her hands and surrounded his penis in them. Her nipples hardened against Brendan’s trouser fabric as she used her hands to move her breasts up and down, matching his slight movements. His cock was dry, the friction a little too intense.
He put his hands over her temples and guided her head down so that the head of his cock met her lips every time he thrust upward. After a few thrusts into her mouth she realized what he wanted and she let the saliva out of her mouth and down between her breasts to lubricate them both.
To Dee Ann it was a deeply rewarding experience, hearing his moans, tasting his flesh and precum, having his hands on her head to guide her, knowing she was pleasing an Executive or, at least, someone much like what an Executive would be. She felt she was in her place, in her element, naked and used by a man who knew what he wanted from her. Even the feeling of the stretched muscles in her neck, as she tucked her chin tight against her throat in order to accept him into her mouth, felt like a kind of joy. The sensations on her nipples seemed to translate themselves directly to her clit, driving her wild.
Brendan reveled in her excitement, how she trembled with the intensity of the imprint as it rewrote her brain, sending signals of pleasure to every nerve, reinforcing the SecSlave programming. Her silky breasts, so taut, so full, surrounded his cock like a tight pussy. She held them together with just the right pressure for him. The heat and wetness of her mouth, kissing the head of his cock, was perfect, and she moaned helplessly, expressing her own feelings of arousal.
When he pulled away from her she gasped and looked up into his face, her eyes hazy with need. She’d descended into that neural subspace where nothing existed but the actions required to serve. The interruption sent her brain scrambling to understand.
“Stand up,” Brendan said. Dee Ann stood automatically. He gripped her shoulders and turned her halfway.
“Put one foot on the bed.” He guided his cock into her pussy from behind. The electric PC muscle tightener had done its job. Even now, after a month of penetration, both from him and from a variety of toys, she was as tight as a teenage virgin. He reached around and grabbed Dee’s breasts, using his grip on them to pull her down and back, pinning hers on his cock. Her juice soaked her crotch and thighs, making his entrance into her tight hole smooth and sweet.
She screamed as she came, her knees nearly buckling at the beginning of the best fuck of her life. The orgasm seemed to last forever, extended by each thrust of his big, hard cock. She found herself whimpering, unsure of how much time had passed, her leg muscles working hard to help Brendan penetrate her fully. She heard his groans and growls, his breath hot on her neck. Knowing that she was pleasing him, that his use of her body elicited those sounds, made her come again. Again she lost track of time, her mind floating happily in the rhythm of the sex, as Brendan guided her body with his grip on her breasts, hips falling to meet his, her hands on his, fingers tight.
Brendan wanted to stay in that position, enjoying feeling her tits smashed under his hands and her back pressed against his chest nearly as much as the feeling of being in her wet snatch but his calves were beginning to send pain signals.
Again he withdrew and again Dee Ann found herself in a haze of confusion, knowing she wouldn’t be satisfied until he came, wondering if she’d done something wrong. When Brendan repositioned her the programming finally kicked in, resolved the puzzle into the answer that this particular Executive liked multiple positions per session. Dee relaxed and even grew more excited wondering what position would be next. The programming rifled through the information on positions and came up with a few likely scenarios. The next time he interrupted their rhythm she’d be ready.
But Brendan was past that. He was ready to come in his big-breasted SecSlave. He got her on her hands and knees on the bed and mounted her from behind. The rhythm made the bed creak, its joints worn from all the use of the past two years.