Delilah took a few moments, outside Dora’s view, to catch her breath, to let her head stop spinning. She occasionally wondered if there might be more being done with her than was needed; she was already a loyal, obedient subject to her Princess, just as she should be. Dora seemed to think that was at risk somehow, as if you could stop being a devoted, loyal, obedient subject whose pussy belonged to her Princess to be handed out as a reward, whose ass belonged to her Princess to be handed out as a reward, whose mouth was made for worship aloud or silently with tongue.

Obviously that wasn’t something you could just stop.

(It did not occur to Delilah to notice she was less sure that wanting to stop was impossible. It wouldn’t, so long as Dora kept up her steady, determined conditioning.)

The strap-on was always readily available. One of the first things Delilah and Kennedy had been tasked with doing, once they had the run of the Pandora and the Star Runner, was hollowing out and disguising hiding places for all manner of toys that the Princess and her programmable gynoid might want to use on them at any given time.

Delilah knew that she felt especially good whenever she held one of those toys. She didn’t know - wasn’t permitted to know, on a very deep level - why; wasn’t permitted to understand just how much she needed, now, to be fucked whenever a superior wanted.

The Princess was curious to see how long it would take her and Kennedy to understand that as she gradually filled the ranks of subjects who might outrank her. But Delilah had no idea that challenge was in her future. She held the strap-on happily, lifting it up to kiss the tip of the dildo lovingly. The moment her lips touched the tip, programming took over; her lips parted and the strap-on slid in.

Delilah had no gag reflex left; tilting her head back, she took the whole thing into her mouth with the unhesitating eagerness of a brainwashed fucktoy. Her grip on it changed, fingertips spread inside the harness of straps, controlling the depth she was taking the strap-on with the lightest of touches.

Fuck, it felt so good…

Given a pussy or a cock to worship, Delilah could easily lose track of time. As the subject, it wasn’t her right to decide how long she worked on any given task in any case. She was only recalled to her duty when the electronic equivalent of someone clearing their throat sounded behind her and, shocked back into awareness, she pulled the strapon from her throat with a loud pop.

“Is that what you were asked?” Dora demanded, an amused tone to her voice.

“No, ma’am,” Delilah said meekly. “I’m sorry.”

“Then why did you allow it to happen?”

Gynoids, AI in general, were gifted not so much with programming as with subroutines. They always had the option to choose whether or not to activate them. Since arriving in her Princess’ service, Delilah had learned this. But Dora…

It might just be because Dora had been placed over her, and therefore had access to information for her decisions that Delilah did not. That information might explain why Dora always seemed to be teasing her. But it felt, at times, as if the Princess had managed to jam certain of Dora’s subroutines on.

She knelt before the gynoid, holding the strapon low, allowed Dora to step into it, and rose, coaxing the harness up around the gynoid’s thighs and securing the straps into place. Biting her lip, she met Dora’s eye, knowing a new order would be coming soon.

Dora pointed at the nearest workbench. “Bend over,” she instructed. Delilah almost pirouetted and she marched over toward it.

After a lot of hard use by Dora, Delilah always stood with her legs slightly parted. Enough had been done to her that the way she carried herself had changed.

But she was still eager to be changed even further, She was ready to bend forward and grip the workbench when Dora said “Stop,” and Delilah stopped, foot still raised, her body holding perfectly still.

Dora patted her ass through her latex half-body uniform. “It amazes me, sometimes,” she said, “just how much you’ve ended up acting like a half-finished AI. The tests we ran show you’re smart, if you’re allowed to be.”

The gynoid crossed past her to one of the Star Runner’s data consoles. She was running a navigation check; not something she needed to do, and she knew it. She was only doing it so Delilah had to hold the post, and with her doing it in Delilah’s line of sight, she was clearly doing it so Delilah couldn’t hide from that fact either.

The vibrator in her uniform wasn’t on, but it didn’t need to be. Delilah had been so determined to live her own life, to chart her own path, to be her own woman. Once all of that had crumbled, she became someone who needed control taken. Needed to prove she could obey. Could fit in.

She had become everything she used to dismiss Earthgov agents for being, before she’d worked with enough of them to know the truth. They weren’t just by-the-book rule-following automatons. They weren’t lucky enough to be. But she was, and it was wonderful.

She had still not been given permission to move again when, standing directly behind her, Dora pulled down Delilah’s uniform until it clung around her knees.

*

Terra was a little sad that she hadn’t been able to bring Elisabeta back to the Pandora with her. It was good to have more subjects, certainly. But it was a shame that not all of them were ready to hand whenever she wanted them, even if she knew this was just a result of placing them where they needed to be. By now she should have one or two more out on Gargate - one of the good things about establishing actual mental control over her targets was that she never had to worry that they wouldn’t do as they were told - and several more potential subjects on their way back in stasis.

Small wonder, really, that she was humming jauntily as she made her way along the corridors of the Pandora, Kennedy following her obediently. Her spirits were up high - right up until she caught sight of a blonde figure going the other way, at least.

“Good afternoon, Talia,” she called. Try to stay cheerful, she reminded herself. Don’t let her see the real you. There aren’t many people who could still derail this.

Talia’s mouth set in a thin line. “Mm-hmm,” she said, and her shoulder hit Terra’s as she passed them. “Whatever you and the new girls have going on,” she called over her shoulder, “I’d appreciate it if you got it sorted out before it drags the Captain in.”

Terra stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at the human woman. Wondering how much or how little she actually knew; how much or how little trouble might come from her in the next few days. There was an odd sound near her; when she looked up and saw Kennedy, she realised quickly that Kennedy was staring at Talia’s back and growling quietly to herself, more like an obedient hound than a person.

“Speak,” Terra ordered. Kennedy flushed, embarrassed to have been caught with an opinion she hadn’t been given by her Princess. It took her a few moments to find her voice and begin to speak.

“I don’t like how disrespectful she is to you, Highness,” she said. “I think she should be broken, as I was. As Elisabeta has been. And if I was chosen to help break her I would consider it the greatest honour of my life.”

There were times when Terra was more delighted than usual, and her hair and her skin did this strange, pleasing ripple that sent shivers down Kennedy’s spine. She did this again now, and was rewarded by the anger and embarrassment melting out of Kennedy’s face to show instead a helplessly aroused befuddlement.

Terra patted her cheek approvingly. “Your spirit is good,” she assured her. “Your spirit is just how it should be, Kennedy. But we’ve got plenty that needs to be done here before we can risk turning her into our subject.”

“But she should be-”

“Should everyone be?” Terra’s tone was sharper than Kennedy would have preferred to hear it.

“Yes, Highness, of course.”

“Then you may assume she will come to join me in time,” Terra said firmly. “Yes?”

“Yes, Highness.”

“And I’m sure you will have a part to play,” Terra grinned. “Since you’ve shown such determination to do so. But she’ll take time. Your sister has a role to play before that can happen.”

Kennedy nodded. Terra leaned in close and kissed her, slow and tender. “Well done,” she said.

“Highness?”

“For all your temper, you remember your place. When Talia is mine, I will have to decide if she is above you or below you. And you will accept my ruling.”

Kennedy blinked, surprised this was even a comment. “Of course, Highness.”

*

“I follow my Princess.”

The strap-on was everything to Delilah, when Dora wore it. It filled her. It gave her an opportunity to show the gynoid her eager fuckability. She was never entirely sure it didn’t somehow complete a circuit in Dora that meant fucking her with it gave the android actual pleasure. If it did, that meant it was true service from Delilah.

“I am loyal to my Princess.”

Dora especially liked to edge her human servant for as long as possible, denying her conditioned brain even the possibility of orgasm, until the gynoid could properly take over and regulate Delilah through fucking her herself. The vague fuzzy quality that surrounded Delilah’s thoughts was entirely due to this habit on her superior’s behalf, and there were times when it was an arduous challenge.

“Anything for my Princess.”

But also, there were times when it was everything to her. Times when her mantra - the fundamental rules of her personality - and the strap-on were in perfect harmony. When being fucked by one gave her all the incentive she needed to reinforce the other.

“Whoever I was before doesn’t matter.”

Dora was not a considerate lover. As the lowest of all the Princess’ subjects, Delilah neither wanted nor expected a considerate lover. She wanted to be used; it was what she was for.

“The Princess’ will be done.”

Dora’s voice interrupted her absent reinforcements. “Very good,” Dora said. “Three more and you may cum.”

Finally, Delilah thought, but did not say. It would be very far from her place to say.

“I follow my Princess. I am loyal to my Princess. Anything for my Princess. Whoever I was before doesn’t matter. The Princess’ will be done. I follow my Princess. I am loyal to my Princess. Anything for my Princess. Whoever I was before doesn’t matter. The Princess’ will be done. I follow my Princess. I am loyal to my Princess. Anything for my Princess. Whoever I was before doesn’t matter. The Princess’ will be done.” By the end, Delilah was gasping for breath, almost choking over each word, but the cadence of her speech was the rhythm of the strap-on in her pussy, and whenever she stumbled she had to pick right back up.

Reduced to a metronome chanting her own mantra, made into an object with far less independence than the programmed robot fucking her, Delilah came screaming with the pent-up eagerness and delight of the entire time she had been serving her Princess without seeing her and having the chance to kneel at her feet and worship her shoes with her tongue.

*

“Just before we dock,” Dora said abruptly, standing in the doorway to the room where Delilah had been trying to get a little more sleep before she had to make herself presentable to her Princess, “you do have another assignment when we return to the Pandora.”

Delilah went from half asleep to wide awake in a heartbeat. You didn’t neglect an opportunity to serve and please the Princess. That just wasn’t how the world worked. “Oh?”

“What do you know about my engineer? Lachlann?”

Delilah blinked. “He’s a perverted, arrogant asshole who doesn’t give the Princess the respect she deserves.” The sentence spilled out of her faster than she could think about it.

“Correct. But it’s now time to change that.”

Her eyes shone with excitement. “Anything for my Princess,” she said, and her voice did not match her eyes; rather than delight it was simply a needy, horny drone.

Dora reached into her cleavage and produced a small mirrorglass vial, less than a quarter of an inch wide, about half an inch across. The synthskin covering her body sealed back up, concealing where the vial had been held. “We used this on you,” she said with a smile. “You’ll use it on him.”

“Of course.”

“It takes time for the results to kick in properly.” Dora smiled. “Whatever he wants to do, until he’s done, you’ll let him.”

“Of course,” Delilah repeated again. She took the vial and palmed it, old lessons in subterfuge helping her make it disappear.

“He has to think it’s his fault until it’s too late for him to think for himself,” Dora confirmed, and Delilah merely nodded. By now Dora knew Delilah was going to do as the Princess wanted her to. It didn’t need to be said again.

Dora kissed her, with all the passion a living woman might have had when sending her fucktoy out to do her Princess’ bidding. Delilah kissed back with the rote, automaton-like efficiency of a programmed machine.

The irony of this was noticed by neither one.

*

Nobody had seen Lachlann for about four days when the Star Runner docked with the Pandora. It wasn’t that he was off-ship, or even hiding; it was just that he’d been working on his pet projects, and he’d got distracted, not even leaving for dinner; instead he was keeping going on sodas from his secret stash and a stack of ancient protein bars he’d scored the last time the crew had stopped for supplies.

Even Lachlann hadn’t realised he’d been off the grid for four days. If you’d asked him he’d probably have said he was starting his third day’s work on the project, having thoroughly lost track of time. He was vaguely aware he’d been working long enough that it might seem anti-social, but he was still very surprised when the door to his hanger slid open in spite of his personal lock and one of the new girls stepped in, calling “Hello?”

Lachlann shot a dubious glance over his shoulder before taking in afresh the way her (supposedly regulation) uniform shirt and her (decidedly non-uniform) leggings clung to her body and the shape they showed off. He turned back to his work for a moment, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He composed his expression and straightened back up. “Over here,” he said, and he turned to watch her approach.

All the surfaces of his workshop were littered with spare parts, tools, or damaged pieces of equipment he was meaning to repair. Everything but the floor; Lachlann had experienced the sudden panic of a socket wrench rolling under his foot and nearly dumping him on his ass one time too many, and he’d taken to making sure the floor was always clean and tidy. For a few years he’d left that to the Dora gynoid; a few months ago she’d seemed to just have less time for that kind of thing, and he’d begrudgingly started dealing with it himself.

He heard her boots clicking as she made her way across to him and realised, an excitement tight in his belly, that she was in stiletto heels. He consciously decided not to think about why heels in a spacecraft made him react that way. “It’s… Lachlann, right?” she asked.

“Right,” he said with a smile. The way she was pivoting with every step as she walked, lifting her thighs high and turning into each one, it was straight out of his favourite erotic holos. It wasn’t something people actually did. But somehow as she walked like that it seemed perfectly normal and natural, not like she was putting it on, just like she wanted him.

He had no idea that she had been programmed to want him in order to better recruit him. “And you’re Kennedy, right?”

A fractional shake of her head, no change in her smile. “Sorry, no. I’m Delilah; Kennedy’s my sister.” She was almost level with him now. “I’m just trying to get to know everyone on the ship.” She said that last with a carefree artlessness that even Lachlann, with his relatively limited exposure to people being manipulative, could tell was a lie. But why would she lie?

Delilah was so very close to him, and her eyes almost seemed to shine as she smiled up into his. “I really want to get to know you,” she murmured, and the way she said it sent a frisson scurrying up and down his spine.

He lost track of his own wondering about her motives and her misdirection. “Uhhh… great! Great!” His tongue flicked out, wetting dry lips. Lachlann wasn’t completely unused to female attention, but if he hadn’t been expecting it, sometimes it took him a while to bounce back and let the natural Lachlann charm out to play. So he told himself, anyway.

“Dora tells me you made her,” she gushed, the curve of her breast brushing against his bare arm as she moved past him toward the X1. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

Lachlann felt like he had a proper grasp on the situation now. For whatever reason, Delilah (not Kennedy, he reminded himself firmly) had decided she wanted to seduce him.

Well, who was he to object?

He turned and moved along in her wake. “Yeah. Yeah I did. Although, you know,” and he paused, knowing that you could never get away with taking all the credit, even if he wanted to, “she’s improved herself a lot over time.” Which reminded him - actually, he really should do another check on her source code. The last time, a couple of years ago, he’d discovered her AI learning algorithms had come to some frankly worrying assumptions.

It was easy to pull an AI off course. All you needed to do was convince it one false thing was true and wait as it continued to build on that wrong assumption. A little bit of incorrect data or any fragmented code injected into her main source base and Dora could completely change, without anyone necessarily noticing it happen.

There was a sudden hollow metallic noise a few paces in front of him. “Oh!” Delilah exclaimed. He took a couple of quick steps forward, suddenly worried, and relaxed when he saw what had happened. She’d knocked over his soda can, spilled it everywhere; but the X1 wouldn’t short out from that, and almost anything else she’d knocked over would have been much worse.

She looked over her shoulder, head tilted, making eye contact through half-lowered lashes. “Sorry,” she said softly, then cleared her throat. “Where do you keep your drinks?”

She was already moving out, searching for them; more to be saying something and feeling like he was at least partway in control, he pointed out the cooler to her.

Some of the soda had splashed the thigh of those tight pants of hers. Lachlann followed her. “Um, you’ve, uh…” He gestured to her pants. She ignored him at first, bending at the cooler, her body between him and his soda. She came up holding a new can in both hands, one on the top, one at the base. Weird, he thought. Must be from a planet that handles drinks differently. No wonder she spilled the first one.

He took the can from her - though she lingered with her hand on the top for a moment, making eye contact with him as she cracked open the seal for him - and then she looked down and tutted. “You’re right,” she said irritatedly. “Well… shoot.”

Lachlann nearly laughed at how carefully she didn’t swear. Can to his lips, he watched her turn her back on him, and he was just taking a first sip when she unbuckled her belts, hooked her thumbs into the fabric at her hips, and pulled her pants down, revealing long,well-shaped tan legs. What he’d intended as a sip became a huge gulp; unknown to him, some of his own old secret nanoformula was already inside him now. “Wh - sorry, uh, what are you doing?”

Delilah stepped out of her pants and set them aside, then glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I was all wet,” she said softly, and even in those wide, innocent eyes there was no hint she might mean the double entendre. “This is better.”

She clearly had no embarrassment about wearing less, and now below the belt she was wearing only a thong and her stiletto heels. Having met his eyes over her shoulder she glanced down and her face split into a grin. “Oh!” she said. “You look…”

Her hand reached out behind her and tender fingertips brushed at the bulge under his own pants. “Hello,” she purred happily. “May I see?” Her eyes were back on his, and he felt a strange, hot rush of blood to his head. Her touch, her eyes, everything about her… He wanted to push her down to her knees, stand before her, let her welcome his cock into her mouth. He wanted to grab her right where she was, tug that thong aside, bend her over and take her. He wanted to back her against one of his workbenches, lift her up onto it by her asscheeks and fuck her pussy while her ass squirmed in the soda she’d spilled.

He wanted to do everything to her. Wordlessly, he nodded, reaching for that ripe, soft ass, and she cocked her hip to press her buttock into his hand, almost a greeting. As he was doing so, she undid his belt, one-handed, in a way that spoke of long experience. “Drink up,” she murmured. “Get those electrolytes back.”

Lachlann swallowed off the rest of his soda in two big gulps, just wanting to get the empty can out of his hand so it wouldn’t be in the way. For all his usual emphasis on keeping the floor clean he let it clatter away as questing fingers found his erection and teased it out of his pants. Delilah gave a low, happy moan of pleasure at the sight. “Oooh,” she giggled, “just what I need…”

And she backed up suddenly against him, hand still on his cock, until his erection was sandwiched between her buttocks. Delilah shifted her stance and her buttocks were suddenly tight against his cock. “I see you like that too,” she giggled, eyes bright and happy. A quick jerk of her hips danced her buttocks up and down his shaft and Lachlann started. It was everything he could want. It was more than he could want; dizzyingly arousing. The thought She’s done something to me floated across his head, but he was already too aroused, too erotically charged, to even think of caring.

And besides, she was rocking side to side now, rolling her ass against his cock, and he hadn’t been ready for that at all. The rest of the dose in his soda hit his system and the sentence that had half-formed on his lips turned into a low, needy grunt. He grabbed at her, big calloused hands closing on her tits through her top, and suddenly he was startled to realise there was no bra there, not even one of those ridiculous neomaterial things that provided support but were barely noticeable. He fumbled under her top and realised quickly that her free hand, the one not teasing the tip of his cock as she guided it, was helping him find the way.

He painted her fingertips with the first spurt of precum and she gave a low, throaty moan of her own, squirming up against him. “You’re leaking fit to burst,” she said quietly, and she turned around inside his arms, walking into him with one hand lightly against his chest, backing him into his chair. “Let me take care of that, OK?”

Lachlann was still almost nonverbal as his nanites did their work, so as she sank to her knees, winked at him, and then took his cock into her mouth in one single smooth duck of her head, he gave vent to a powerful, hungry growl, his hands found her hair, curled into it, gripped tight enough that the tension across her scalp made the sex-crazed submissive subject smile around his cock.

Fucking hell, she was good. He’d had the vague idea she was into women - nobody had said anything, but you picked up context clues, right? - and it was surprising enough she was after him but the skill she was demonstrating in it had really hit him hard. But she’d clearly set out to seduce him… She’d done something to him…

His eyes widened. The way he was acting, had he been dosed with someth-

Delilah did something with her tongue, something Lachlann couldn’t describe clearly but which he felt not just through his cock but from the base of his spine. The nanites’ input spiked.

He cleared his throat, although it sounded more like another hungry growl. “G-get up,” he managed. Delilah broke off from sucking his cock, looking up at him with eyes wide and sad, silently begging him to let her return to sucking. Deft fingers tickled at his balls, but Lachlann kept his expression from reacting.

Reluctantly, slowly, Delilah rose to her feet - and Lachlann surged up after her, grabbing her by the buttocks with both hands. She gave a startled, delighted squeak as he hoisted her up and toward him, her arms going round his neck, her legs closing around his waist.

Lachlann turned and carried her toward the bed he kept in his workrooms for when he was too busy to trek back to his quarters. Looking over her shoulder, Delilah quickly caught on and giggled, turning back to him with a smile on her lips and confidence restored to her eyes. “Am I getting lucky tonight?” she purred.

“Mm-hmm,” he grunted. The two of them did not so much lie down on the mattress as he went down to one knee at the edge then sprawled forward on her, the lust driven by his nanites pushing him into overdrive and crazing him.

Delilah rocked her hips at just the right moment, rolling to one side, ending up atop him. She reached down, grinning, and tugged on the part of her thong where it stopped being waistband and started being the thong itself; as it had been designed to do by Dora, it snapped easily, and seeing her dripping pussy drove Lachlann to grab her by the hips as he thrust up, ramming himself into her.

Delilah rode him as he hammered home at her, over and over; she tugged her top over her shoulders and threw it aside, grinning fiercely to herself as his nanotech-driven lusts locked his eyes onto her bouncing tits. The two of them were locked together for almost an hour, and as the nanites pushed Lachlann to new limits, he eventually subsided, eyes rolling back in his head as he sank back into the mattress in exhaustion. Delilah stayed on his cock, shifting her position to lie against his chest, and began to murmur into his drowsy ears.

“You follow my Princess. You are loyal to my Princess. Anything for my Princess…”

*

Lachlann had lost track of time even before he dozed off, his cock hard through the night, eyes twitching slightly as they stared, unseeing, until he blacked out. All that was rolling around her head, rolling around and around without stopping, was the mantra he’d heard whispered into his ears until he passed out.

Delilah waited for ships’ morning to rouse him again, her lips around his cock, her head bobbing, so that he came to in the best way possible. She swallowed down his blessing and sat back on her knees, bare breasts drawing his eye. “Good morning!” she exclaimed.

“Uh… morning.”

Delilah grinned. “Who do you follow?”

“I follow my Princess,” Lachlann said, and then he stopped and blinked in confusion. “Who’s my Princess?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

He was silent a little longer. Then, “Terra?”

Delilah nodded. “Of course. I’m loyal to my Princess.”

“Anything for my Princess,” he replied without thinking. Then he blushed crimson. “Uh… I mean…”

“You mean anything for her.”

“…Yeah.” He was quiet. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Don’t you think she deserves to hear that?”

He swallowed, his lips dry again. He wanted to tell her. Wanted it so much. He nodded.

“Well, that’s convenient.” She touched a button and the door opened. Terra swept in, Kennedy close on her heels.

Lachlann scrambled to his feet. There was a blush to his cheeks, but not much of one; no real surprise considering all the blood in his body was competing to harden his cock. If Delilah was irresistible, his Princess was something else entirely. He couldn’t even meet her eye.

“Exactly on schedule,” Terra remarked.

“Yes, Princess,” Delilah said breathlessly, a hesitant smile on her lips. It wouldn’t do to be proud if her Princess found fault with her, after all.

“Well, Seamus, what do you say?” she asked.

He licked his lips. “A-anything you wish, Princess,” he said. “I’m at your disposal.”

“Perfect.” Terra regarded Lachlann with a proprietary lust. “You still know how to build?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Then I think we’re going to have to consult,” she said. “I have plans you’ll be putting into action.”

“Anything for my Princess.”

Terra giggled girlishly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be tired of hearing that,” she said. She looked to Delilah. “Take your sister back to quarters. I have business here.”

“Yes, Princess,” Delilah said, slipping an arm into Kennedy’s and walking out of the door, bouncing as she went. She had completely forgotten her clothes, and Kennedy evidently saw fit not to tell her.

Kennedy took over the route through the ship before too long, not surprising with how tired Delilah had become. She pulled her older sister into Terra’s room and made sure the door was closed before wrapping her sister up in an embrace. Lips met lips and they opened their mouths to one another, kissing each other deeply, Delilah’s bare body pressed needily against her sister.

“Missed you,” Kennedy said softly. “The Princess has kept me busy, but I still missed you…”

“Missed you too,” Delilah returned. “Is she ready to begin her subject breeding program?”

A shake of Kennedy’s head. “Not quite. But we’re closer and closer. How did your missions go?”

Delilah smiled and settled into a chair, her sister on her lap. They kissed again, and Delilah began to explain…