Dominant System 6.

	“It's been a while, hasn't it Thomas?” the voice – cool and self-assured, yet with an unmistakably artificial edge to it – stirred the young man from his reverie. He had been deep in a weighty textbook, but in truth his mind had been countless miles away. Before he could turn around to greet the owner of that familiar voice, a slender hand reached over his shoulder to pluck the book from his loose grip.
	“Transhuman Ethics,” the tall, thin limbed woman said to herself, reading off the cover of the book, “Is that what they're teaching people these days? I suppose there's a call for it.”
	“Anna,” Thomas spun his computer chair around to face his old friend. They had known each other for years, since Thomas was a young child, but recent times had seen their relationship taking on a new level. Of course, all that had been put on hold when Thomas had left to attend college. Now back at home for the break between semesters, the young man was eager to pick up where he had left off.
	As a robot – a gynoid, to be precise – Thomas had expected Anna to look no different from when he had left her, but his expectations had been inaccurate. Though she had never been clunky or graceless, her new form was sculpted with an inhuman sleekness that seemed closer to a finely tuned sports car than any living thing. Only a small fraction of the dull chrome casing he was familiar with remained visible, the rest of her body covered with a glistening skin of black latex. Her face remained uncovered, a pair of cold electrical blue eyes glowing above finely sculpted cheeks, while a thin crescent of grey metal was visible on her chest, teasing Thomas with the barest hint of her cleavage.
	Thomas let his gaze wander down her body, heedless of the amused smirk that had taken shape on her lips. Her legs were longer than he remembered them, the smooth curves of her thighs and calves leading down into a slender pair of heels. Aided, no doubt, by an internal gyroscope or some other piece of technological wizardry, the gynoid was able to balance perfectly on nothing other than her thin heels and the sculpted wedge of her toes. The joints in her legs – and, indeed, the rest of her body – were cast in a subtle black that blended in with the latex skin she wore. All in all, her entire body seemed to boast the latest in robotic technology.
	It was a jarring change, to say the least. In all the years Thomas had known her, Anna had been reluctant to change or replace her component parts, even as they grew older and out of date. She had always adopted new technology as her job demanded, installing new pieces without a word of complaint, but Thomas had always felt a vague reluctance lurking behind her cold eyes. Now, however, she had taken to her new body with grateful ease.
	“You've... really changed,” he managed at last, finally imposing a sense of order upon his foolish tongue. As always, the young man was captivated by the smooth lines and perfectly ordered shapes that made up the gynoid's body. If anything, this new form that Anna had adopted was more erotic than any previous model of robot he had seen before. It was as though it had been designed entirely to titillate, to capture the attention and demand admiration.
	“Well, why not?” Anna shrugged, a minute whirring noise filling the gap between her words as she rolled her shoulders, “I was looking through a magazine that arrived – one of yours, I believe – and felt like trying something new.”
	“One of my magazines?” Thomas felt his face – one of the few biological components left in his increasingly cybernetic body – colour as he realised what Anna meant, “I, uh, I meant to cancel that subscription.”
	“Oh no,” Anna purred, leaning down until her eyes were on Thomas' level, “I found it quite enlightening.”
	His face struck by a bashful grin, Thomas felt his gaze wander down to the crescent of dull metal at the gynoid's bosom. No matter how intimately he had known the details of her body, Anna's statuesque physique had always been able to reduce him to the level of a horny schoolboy, and her new frame was no exception. He knew that her breasts were silicone, crafted to precise specifications and topped off with carefully sculpted nipples. When he touched her – Thomas also knew – his touch would send an electronic pulse through her body to her mind, where it would be converted into the same raw pleasure that any human woman would experience.
	Some said that the state of modern robotics was proof that science had gone too far, but Thomas couldn't disagree more. Perhaps it was due to the erection straining against the tight confines of his clothes or the fog of lust clouding his mind, but he felt that science had gone exactly far enough.

	“You're staring,” Anna smiled softly, reaching up to stroke the underside of Thomas' chin. The young man had an androgynous build – and “build” was the appropriate term, considering the artificial nature of much of his body – that contrasted with the obvious femininity of Anna's curves. She was right – Thomas' eyes had fixated on her body, slowly crawling up and down the length of it as he took in every detail of her new look. Bashful, the young man was able to manage an awkward shrug and nothing more. “Speechless, too,” the gynoid laughed in reply, letting go of his chin and stepping away from him.
	“I, uh...” Thomas swallowed quickly, hoping to bring some measure of lubrication to his hopelessly dry mouth, “I like it. The new look, I mean.”
	“You like it?” Anna stressed the word “like”, perhaps comparing it to a more suitable term like “love” or “adore”. Her face had assumed a near-expressionless aspect, as it often did when she had decided to tease her young lover, leaving Thomas guessing as to her true feelings. She might have been amused by his inarticulate answer, or she might have deemed it entirely disrespectful. By contrast, Thomas was an open book. Even if he was able to keep a straight face, Anna had countless ways to uncover his true intentions. A minute change in his temperament was enough to set his heart beating faster, a signal that – to Anna's keen sensors – was as good as a neon sign.
	“Sure,” deciding to take a leap of faith, Thomas forced his voice into a calmer tone, “It's pretty neat.” His gamble paid off, forcing Anna to reward him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. He wanted her, and she was well aware of that fact, but his continued restraint turned the whole thing into a game. In a way, the constant back and forth of their teasing flirtations was as much fun as the sex itself.
	“I see,” Anna reached down to take Thomas' hands, lifting up out of his seat and bringing him closer to her until they were almost touching. Anna was a good few inches taller than the young man – largely due to her gravity defying heels – and the top of his dirty blonde hair just about reached the nape of her neck. Her feet clicked sharply against the floor as she circled him, leading him around until they had traded positions. Satisfied, Anna sat down into the chair Thomas had vacated, gracefully folding one leg on top of the other. “Maybe you should show me how much you like it.”
	“What can I say?” Thomas asked, kneeling down in front of the reclining robot. It was a respectful gesture, but Anna answered it with a contemptuous faux-yawn.
	“I don't want you to say anything,” Anna corrected him, lifting up one of her glossy black feet and placing it in Thomas' waiting hands. Her foot was light, the latex skin as smooth and glossy as a sea of obsidian. “I want you to show me,” she purred, flexing her toes in a single languid motion. Thomas craned his neck to look up at her, his eyes wide and excited, before he lifted her foot to his mouth and kissed it softly.
	Although her form was unmistakably humanoid, it was up close when the artificial nature of her being revealed itself. Her toes were angular, crafted with a precision that surpassed anything nature could create and capped with a square ridge that imitated a nail. The chemical smell of latex – undefinable, and yet unmistakable – rose up to fill Thomas' nostrils as he pressed his lips to Anna's foot. Lifting her foot from his tender grip, Anna pushed it into the young man's face, tilting his head back as she pressed the sole into his mouth, the long heel cold and rigid against his throat.
	The taste of latex – just as tantalizing as the smell – crept into Thomas' mouth as he kissed the sole of her foot, the material cool against his flustered lips. Her other foot roamed downwards until her toes hooked under the hem of his shirt, lifting the thin fabric as she traced her foot up the line of Thomas' chest. The young man quickly pulled away from Anna so he could tug his shirt off and throw it to the side, his unguarded enthusiasm drawing a short laugh from the gynoid.
	As her left foot traced lazy circles on the glossy surface of Thomas' chest, he began to work his way up her right leg, leaving a trail of kisses that clouded the surface the latex skin that hugged her figure. Just as he was reaching her knee, she pulled her foot away and kicked out gently, pushing Thomas to the ground.
	“Look at this!” she admonished, leaning down and gesturing at the markings he had left on her. Though dull, they were immediately visible when compared with the black perfection of her unmarked leg. “Filthy,” she sighed, looking balefully down at Thomas, “You really can't control yourself, can you? Well, what are you waiting for?”
	“Of course,” Thomas murmured, bowing his head respectfully so that Anna wouldn't see his quick grin. Seizing his abandoned shirt, he began to caress Anna's long legs with the material, running it from the top of her knee all the way down to her toes. The fabric whispered as he polished her latex clad leg, rubbing the lingering marks his kisses had left until she was, once again, pristine.
	“That's better,” Anna purred, lifting her leg up to stroke it with her long fingers. Evidently satisfied with the result, she reached down with her foot, placing it in the middle of Thomas' chest and pushing, forcing the young man back. He resisted, briefly straining against the insistent pressure of her foot, but the gynoid had the upper hand and soon he was on his back, pinned to the ground.

	“I suppose I should give you some kind of reward,” Anna mused, her other foot sliding up the inside of Thomas' thigh to rest gently on his crotch. She pressed down carefully, the stiffened mass of Thomas' penis clearly outlined against his clothes as her toes parted to embrace the young man's member.
	A quiet rustling rose up as she began to move her foot, stroking Thomas' cock through both his trousers and his underwear. Thomas pressed his lips together tightly, suppressing the moan that threatened to escape him. Even with two layers of fabric between their bodies, Anna was able to skilfully wrest deep waves of pleasure from him with nothing more than her foot. As he tried to rise, her other foot pressed down harder on his chest in a painful rebuke.
	“Oh no, you're staying down there,” she taunted, leaning back in her chair as she lorded over her young lover. With Thomas at her mercy, her every motion had taken on an imperious nature, as if she sought to flaunt the dominant position she held. “I know, I know,” Anna continued, “You want to strip off, don't you? You want to feel me against your naked flesh.”
	“I do,” Thomas gasped, his exhalation deepening into a tortured groan as she dug the heel of her foot into his chest. The slender heel glanced off the flesh-coloured casing that covered his torso without any damage, but it was enough to send a sharp burst of pain through him. “I do, Mistress!” he corrected himself, the familiar title flowing easily off his tongue now that his memory had been stimulated.
	“I'm sure you do,” Anna's motions paused as she leaned back, allowing herself an indulgent stretch, “How about a little game?”
	“A game, Mistress?” Thomas asked, his voice growing breathless as she resumed her gentle strokes. As he looked up at her, Anna reached over to his desk and seized a clock, placing it on his chest so that he could see the luminous numbers. 
	“Yes Thomas, a game. Let's see if I can teach you a little restraint, shall we? If you can hold off for – oh, I don't know – five minutes, you'll win,” she paused here, parting her legs and running a luxurious hand across her crotch, “And you'll get to do whatever you want with me.”
	“Mistress, what if I lose?” Thomas asked, his eager gaze split between the sight of her crotch, sealed behind a layer of latex, and the glowing clock balancing on his chest. Had the timer already started?
	“Then you're going to have some laundry to do,” Anna replied with an evil smile, tightening her toes around his member and bringing her grip up in a single, long motion. Thomas groaned as he felt a heavy drop of precum forming at the tip of his penis. When Anna brought her foot back down, sliding it all the way to the base of his penis the drop was wiped away, smeared across the inside of his boxers.
	Though it was as artificial as the rest of his body, his member was designed to be as close to the human norm as possible. Meaning, of course, that he felt the same pleasure that any man would and, if he couldn't find some way to distract himself, he would come like any other man. The technology was truly miraculous, but at that moment Thomas found himself wishing that it wasn't quite so responsive. With her skilled toes drawing intense sensations from him with the slightest of motions, it was looking unlikely that he would last two minutes, let alone five.
	“Don't worry, this should be easy,” Anna cooed, “Five minutes, that's all. Four really, now that I mention it. A schoolboy could last that long,” she paused for a moment before continuing, a new note of exaggerated concern bringing a lightness to her voice, “Unless, I suppose, they were getting off on it, but you don't need to worry about that, do you? You wouldn't get hard at the idea of being made to shoot off in your underwear, would you?”
	“Of course not Mistress,” Thomas lied through gritted teeth, swallowing hard as she dug her toes in deeper to wring an aching pleasure from the depths of his body. He sighed in relief as she loosened her grip, although his short-lived relief died as she began to stoke him faster, her touch delicate yet intense. Two and a half minutes, he thought desperately as he glanced at the clock, he could make it.
	“Well that's good, but... Oh my, what are you doing?” Anna peered down at Thomas' hands, clenching and unclenching as he focussed on anything other than the nagging pleasures she was inflicting upon him. Seconds ticked by as the gynoid watched his hands groping at thin air before she straightened up again. “Are you thinking about me? Playing with my breasts maybe? You can touch them all you like, if you can last for another two minutes.”
	Thomas kept silent as Anna planted her hands on her hips and dragged them upwards, emphasising the curves of her body as she reached up to cradle her bosom. The crescent of dull chrome taunted Thomas, teasing him with a sight he was unable to look away from. “Well, I'll give you this for free,” she smiled sweetly, her nimble fingers finding a hidden zip at her cleavage and slowly tugging it down. Thomas' eyes widened as she parted her latex skin and let her breasts hang free, their firm weight crowned with a pair of perky nipples. “Still fine?”
	“Perfectly calm Mistress,” Thomas replied, lying again. He could see failure looming over him now like a dread phantom, drawing closer with every smooth stroke of her foot. The tip of his penis was slick with precum, the thin liquid spread about by Anna's motions until his whole shaft was sticky with it. His hips betrayed him, twitching in a series of involuntary jerks as his breathing devolved into little more than rapid gasps. Time had slipped away from him, leaving the young man without any notion of how long he had left to endure.
	Anna, for her part, seemed just as enthusiastic as he was, her other foot roaming up and down his chest in random spasmodic patterns, bouncing and jumping with the rhythm of her strokes. “That's one minute left, you're doing well,” a strange note of artificial breathlessness had entered her voice, a pantomime performance of arousal, as she encouraged him, “Oh, you must be so hard right now. What are you going to do with me? You must be so full of ideas,” the gynoid crooned, one hand slipping down to her crotch and parting the snug latex flaps to reveal a tiny zip. Her fingers toyed with the little metal tag, easing it down slowly. Just as it descended enough to grant the young man the barest glimpse of her sex, she stopped completely. Even her foot grew still, leaving Thomas perched on the borderline of an orgasm.
	“Are you counting the seconds?” Anna whispered, a slow flex making its way through her toes. Thomas didn't answer, desperately focussed on ignoring his aching need to come. He could feel his member throbbing, swollen with fluid and the urge to find relief. Through all his concentration, the hushed sound of a zip coming undone reached his ears as Anna uncovered her sex completely. Despite his best efforts, the young man pictured it in his mind, the folds of her lips almost organic in their elegance, yet unmistakably artificial. The thought was too much for him, driving his body into an uncontrolled ejaculation.
	A low groan escaped Thomas as his hips bucked, a pleasure – more muted than a full orgasm and yet intense in its own way – flowing out of his straining member to fill his entire body. Fluid, hot and sticky, pulsed out of him in several strong jets, his hips thrusting at the empty air. Victorious, Anna returned to stroking his member, dragging fresh waves of pleasure – and accompanying moans – from her defeated lover. Finally, when she felt his thrashings subside, she removed her foot and let Thomas flop back onto the floor and grow limp.
	Thomas lay on the floor, panting, for a moment longer as the seed soaked into his underwear, growing cool and tacky. He winced as he rose, gingerly plucking the sticky material away from his body. Struggling to rise, Thomas felt his legs trembling from the lingering weakness of his orgasm. Even with the frustration of defeat, he couldn't help but smile. He had missed Anna, and the countless little tricks and games she was able to come up with.
	“Looks like you lost,” the gynoid crowed, leaning back in her seat and crossing her long legs. Thomas looked down at his trousers, and the dark stain spreading across the front of them, and shrugged.
	“Looks like I need a shower,” he replied, peeling the damp fabric away from his body and slinking away into the bathroom.