In the distance a church clock struck three. A moment later, as if in disagreement, an owl hooted twice from a closer treetop. The crescent moon made a brief appearance between whispy clouds as Joe silently climbed the four wooden steps up to the decking and peered through the glass. The place was in darkness. Excellent. This was his second house tonight; the first had provided some nice jewelery and a reasonable wad of cash – and this one looked promising.
His picks made short work of the window lock and quietly he pushed himself up and through, and slipped inside, pulling it closed softly behind him.
By the light of his torch he could see that he was in a large room full of books. A desk sat to one side, but a quick inspection produced nothing of interest. He moved to the door and slid it open - and jumped at a fleeting impression of a smiling mouth inches from his own and a pair of blue eyes that seemed to be glowing at him out of the darkness. There was a sudden puff and the smell of roses – though slightly more bitter - and all ability to control his limbs deserted him. He fell into strong arms.
It was dark in the hall and his torch lay on the carpet where he’d dropped it. In its oval pool of illumination he saw what he thought was a foot – but it appeared to be bright blue. The foot moved – and so did he. He was dragged along the hall, through a second doorway and into another room.
Joe was panicking. He was fully conscious, but totally unable to move. He fought to struggle, to yell – but it was as if his muscles had been switched off. He could still breathe with no problem and move his eyes, but that was about all.
Away from the torch, the only illumination came from a streetlight on the opposite side of the road – but very little of that made it around the edges of the closed blinds, and he could see only vague shapes. Whoever had got hold of him held him up, and from behind him more hands took him. He felt his wrists and ankles gripped, and his arms were moved high over his head. He tried to look behind him but he couldn’t move enough. Suddenly there was a buzzing, and a device that looked in the dim light worryingly like a small circular saw came towards him. With surgical precision, and without nicking his skin once, it cut off his teeshirt, jeans, underpants, socks and boots. They fell to the floor and he found himself naked, standing on just the soles of his combat boots. Something solid clamped around his hips. And then the lights came on.
Joe gasped. He was facing a robot. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, and bright blue, with a yellow, cheery face that was grinning at him. Its deep blue eyes glowed softly above a plastic nose and a smiling, rubbery mouth. In the centre of its chest was a small cupboard with a door. The robot opened the door, and replaced the circular saw in the cupboard.
Joe’s eyes darted left and right, and stopped abruptly at a mirror on the wall. In it he could see part of what was holding him: more metal and plastic arms, the padded hands gripping his wrists. From the little that was visible in the mirror, it appeared to be a kind of vertical, articulated bedstead. What the fuck was going on?
The robot in front of him removed its right hand, took something else out and clicked it into place. It closed the little cupboard again. The new appendage appeared to be a soft rubber hand. It glistened darkly.
The hand approached Jed’s crotch and took his soft cock in a gentle grip. The fingers began to move rhythmically, and the hand started to play with it.
If Joe had been able to, he would have wrenched himself free, smashed the machine to pieces, and broken the sound barrier getting out of there – but all he was capable of doing was watching as, after a while, his cock slowly began to stiffen under the expert, slippery rubber fingers. It was the very last thing he wanted it to do, but he was helpless to stop it. It felt so good. He didn’t want it to feel good. He wasn’t horny and apart from anything else, being turned on by a machine was deeply humiliating. Was someone watching? He wondered. Were there cameras somewhere? Was some pervert getting off on this in some remote part of the house? The robot’s fingers were soft, gentle, and seemingly oozing lube. They worked on his cock with inhuman effectiveness. He was getting hard. And, he realised, he was getting horny. He wanted to scream and swear but even his vocal chords didn’t seem to be working - all he could manage was a hoarse groan.
His cock was fully erect now. The robot leg go, and with a smooth motion sank to its knees. Its lips parted and it took Joe’s cock in all the way to his balls.
And it began to suck.
Joe had had more than a few blowjobs before now – mostly from Gina, a complete airhead whose single redeeming virtue was her extrordinarily talented mouth – but as soon as this thing began to work on him he knew it was in a different league even to her. There were things going on that Joe couldn’t keep track of: something was moving over the shaft; there was something else working on the glans and the frenulum, and a third – seemingly quite independent device - was teasing the very tip. And the most exquisite suction was being applied too. His first thought was that he really, really needed to get one of these. The robot’s fingers were tickling his balls, and one had gently inserted itself, just up to the first knuckle, into his arsehole.
He tried to turn his head to see more clearly what was going on but he was still unable to move anything other than his eyes. On the one hand this felt fucking amazing – but at the same time it was a bloody machine doing it. He would not damn well have that. He wanted to scream, to yell, to get free. But he felt his body beginning to prepare for orgasm. Mentally he gritted his teeth: he would not allow this thing to make him cum.
But he didn’t have a lot of choice. The purpose-designed mouth continued to milk his cock, and each wonderful movement of the things inside it made his arse muscle clamp around the fingertip – and every time he did that it felt amazing. He was powerless to do anything about it. Although his body wasn’t moving at all, in his mind he was struggling and fighting against it. But it was only a matter of time – and inevitably, he reached the point where suddenly his mindset flipped, and from that moment on all he wanted to do was to cum. The fact that he was being milked by a robot ceased to be a problem for him, as did the fact that he was naked and being held in the grip of a frame on fucking wheels. The thing in front continued to work on him.
Seconds later his hard cock abruptly stiffened even more and a low groan of ecstasy rumbled in the back of Joe’s throat as the first gob of spunk jetted into the sucking mouth.
The robot slowed slightly as he started to cum, and it changed its technique, concentrating mostly on the cock head now - milking his spunk out of him slowly but irresistibly, making his orgasm more extreme and last a long, long time. The sheer intensity of it would have made his knees buckle if they’d been holding him up.
When the robot had extracted the very last drop of spunk, it stopped, but stayed where it was, his spent but still rock-hard cock lying motionless inside its mouth. Joe was panting. That had been one hell of an orgasm but now he was exhausted and his body felt very vulnerable. All he wanted was to get as far away from these machines as possible and have a lie down in a soft duvet, a cigarette, and possibly a cup of tea.
But it seemed that the machines had other ideas. Joe felt himself being bent forward at the waist over the robot with his cock in its mouth. Something on the bedstead rearranged itself behind him, and a moment later there was the loud slap of very heavy, and very solid, plastic on flesh. A fifth of a second after that Joe screamed – or he would have done had he been able to – something hard and flat had landed across both cheeks of his naked arse with astounding force. Five seconds later it happened again. And it carried on happening. The pain was dreadful – it was building with each stroke - and the accuracy of the blows was perfect. Each one was worse than the last. After half a minute of this he thought he was going to faint with the pain.
It stopped.
But not for long. After a short pause it resumed – every bit as hard - but now the robot in front came to life again as well. Something different started rubbing over his now unbearably hypersensitive cock head – and this time not with the smooth teasing that had made him cum so uncontrollably minutes earlier, but with something that felt like sandpaper. Joe screwed his eyes up in panic. He’d only just cum, and with the very first stroke of that rough tongue over his bare glans he knew that it was worse than anything he’d felt in his life before. He couldn’t stand it. It was fucking excruciating.
Mentally Joe struggled and screamed in total panic – his arse was in agony and what that thing was doing to his cock was even worse. This had to stop! Now! He couldn’t stand one more second. But his muscles just would not respond to his manically desperate urgent commands. All he could do was hang there and suffer.
Eventually it did all stop, but not until after what seemed like hours to Joe. The robot rose smoothly to its blue feet again, and Joe breathed a ragged but heartfelt sigh of relief. It was over.
But if he thought that the machines had finished with him he was sorely mistaken. Something cold touched his arsehole. Then it pushed. Apart from the robot’s fingertip earlier, Joe had never had anything up his arse before. The very idea was anathema to him. He tried to clamp his sphincter closed with every bit of his strength but that muscle didn’t seem to be working either. The thing slipped into him slowly and with little resistence. When the end had got inside the device speeded up, and it had what felt like studs on it. Quickly it pushed right in, turned a little, and was withdrawn just as fast, the small, spiky protrusions raking along the inside of him. Again and again it pistoned into him. And it hurt like hell. If anything, it was worse than the paddling had been. For five minutes it fucked his increasingly painful arse hard and fast.
This would all have been bad enough at the best of times, but Joe’s nervous system was still in a state of extreme sensitivity after that monumental orgasm. He was in a helpless world of desperate pain. Whoever had planned this, a tiny part of Joe’s mind thought, knew exactly how guys worked – and he was a fucking bastard cunt .
Eventually the thing pulled completely out of his arse with a wet plop. The robot in front had been standing still while the bedstead behind him had been fucking him, and had seemed to be watching impassively – but now it glided to the side. The frame holding Joe moved, dragging his bare feet over the carpeted floor towards the back of the house. The carpet ended and they entered a small bare room. It had a rubber floor with a drain in the centre of it. A metal door was ahead but they stopped before they got to it.
The smell of roses was back, though slightly less bitter than the first time. Almost immediately he felt life returning to his limbs, and he managed to take a little of his weight on his legs.
The first robot now had something in its hands. Joe saw it was a clear plastic bag. The metal arms lifted and pulled the bag over Joe’s head.
Shit, he thought, panicking again, now they’re going to fucking kill me!
But the robot’s hands didn’t tighten the bag around his neck. Instead they retracted, leaving it there, and the thing moved off back the way they had come, closing the door behind it. A moment later there was a hiss, and sprays came to life in the corners of the small room, soaking him all over with something.
He gagged. It was the most hideous smell he’d ever experienced. Essence of rotting cabbage, fish, diarrhoea, piss, vomit and things he didn’t even want to think about were all in there. It covered him and the bedstead that was still holding him, streaming down the plastic bag over his face.
With a click the door in front of him opened wide, and he felt something touch his arse. Suddenly the metal hands holding his wrists and ankles snapped open, releasing him, and the bedstead kicked him at high speed out of the door.
He sailed through the air in a graceful arc for a moment, then landed in a heap, outside on hard ground by the dustbins.
Groaning, he pulled the bag off his head and collapsed. His arse hurt like fuck both inside and out; he had a splitting headache; he was naked; and the smell – now even worse with the bag off - was dreadful. He vomited onto the ground. He wanted to die.
After some time he managed to stagger to his feet. He turned to look at the door through which he’d been ejected. There was a small sign on it: