The Machine


by time_to_occur

Tags: #noncon #dom:male #m/m #m/nb #pov:bottom #scifi #second_person

Consent is paramount in real life. I do not condone non-consensual acts. 

Paradoxically, you know that your Master is pleased with you when he next brings you for a visit to the Machine. He could tell that you wanted it. Frankly, you know that you were obvious about your need, even if you know better now than to beg for anything other than your subjugation – and your Master’s cock.

The Machine can shape you in an infinite number of ways. You have been told this, and after everything that has been done to mold you so far, you have no reason to doubt that. However, you also know that you are being altered to please others, not yourself. It is your Master who decides how to fuck your mind into the proper configuration. And you have not been told what will come next.

This time, when the Machine pulses out its warm welcome through the walls of the curved shell that surrounds you once more, your genitals pulse back in answer. The Machine has been awaiting your return. To you, so used to getting your mind fucked open by its many tools and techniques, the motions as the Machine prepares you have come to feel tender and loving. The ritual is both comforting and arousing.

You give in and go deep. Your trance is…habitual. Habit-forming. When the whole apparatus descends over you, you feel your body relaxing further. The sensation of having the holes of your head filled is so pleasurable that when your other hole is plugged once more, you almost orgasm right then and there. Almost.

The screen whispers on, already exhibiting those small glitches that let you know that it is programming your mind, and your ears fill with throbbing isochronic tones. You have not been told what you are being programmed for, but you don’t need to know. You just need to be a good slave who slides deep into trance when the Machine’s tools and appendages slide deep into you. You marvel, with what’s left of your conscious mind in this moment, how easy it is for your mind to get fucked open.

The Machine is beginning to whisper something new to you. A new trigger. When your Master or the Machine tells you a specific phrase, you’ll find yourself drained. You are momentarily confused, but the Machine shows you exactly what is expected of you.

The air grows sweeter – the scent is calming, like herbal tea before bed time – you feel the tension drain from your muscles. Your limbs feel heavy. You barely notice the sting at your neck. Your limbs grow heavier still. Had you been standing, you would have fallen. You lie there, and it is as if all your strength has drained away.

But the Machine hasn’t finished. As you lie there, pinned by nothing more than the weight of your own limbs, feeling weak, the Machine’s appendages begin a pumping motion over your genitals, accompanied by unpredictable vibrations. You are being masturbated and milked. Wild heat spikes through your lower abdomen, arousal and desire flood your groin. You’re helpless, and the Machine is extracting an orgasm from you.

The Machine’s tendrils coil around your groin. You feel a rhythmic thrust-thrust-pulse in your ass, accompanied by waves of vibration. Meanwhile, the erectile tissue that the machine is so adeptly thrumming begins to throb of its own accord. You feel tiny, wet, sucking mouths on your nipples. Your muscles clench and unclench – in your ass, in your groin, in your jaw. When you cry out, the cry reverberates seconds later through your ears.

Drained. Weakened. Your Master can do this to you with just a few words.

Just enough words, in just such a combination, that it will be no accident when you find your strength draining out through your orgasm. You’ll cum on command for your Master, for the Machine, and you’ll be weak, unable to even lift your limbs, unable to struggle, until he says otherwise. There’s a lot that a dedicated Master could do with a truly helpless sub at his disposal.

You feel a thrill of fear – and more arousal – at the thought of being even more controlled, even more helpless to resist your Master. Any time that your Master wants, he can bring you to your knees. It doesn’t matter how well you train those muscles of yours, how much you can lift. Your strength and your orgasm belongs to the Ma– to your Master. Right now, the Machine is acting on behalf of your Master, so you listen to the Machine. Right now, the Machine may as well be your Master.

The Machine reinforces its point. It lifts your limbs with its tendrils. A soft voice (your own, you think) orders you to hold up your arm in the air. When that cable releases your wrist, your arm flops down beside you. You sink deeper into a helpless trance. You have no control over your body. All you can do is lie there and listen, and learn the lessons that are being implanted into your mindfucked skull. The Machine’s appendages pull your helpless body this way and that, tilting your chin up and exposing your throat. It teases your neck with warm, unseen suction cups and wet, languid licks of moistened silicon tongues.

Your arousal never leaves you, but when you think you may be able to manage another orgasm, the Machine injects you once again with a cold, potent serum that you can feel spreading through your veins. Your limbs seem to be your own again. The Machine tells you, in your own voice, what a good slave you are.

It tells you your new trigger. Your orgasm mounts quickly, flooding through you, and you feel your limbs weaken, the strength flowing out of you with your fluids. But the Machine has many sensors, and you can tell that it isn’t enough. You are not completely drained.

And so, the Machine begins anew. The strength returns to your limbs, and your muscles are taught obedience. Your strength belongs to your Master. You are repeatedly drained. You suck the silicon cock – those familiar tubes – and are hydrated to replenish what you lose through the cycle of triggers and orgasms and cold intravenous drugs that make your limbs feel so heavy. The Machine could hydrate you intravenously too, but you are a good cocksucker, and the Machine allows you ample opportunity to practice.

The silicon cock grows in your throat and releases cold, soothing water down your hungry gullet. You relax your throat and drink deeply. Once you learn to relax on the soothing molded cushions of the ground, it is time to move on to greater challenges. Your Master will control you no matter the circumstances. The Machine manipulates your limbs, pulling your whole body up into the air. You tense in the air, all your muscles taut and hard, clenched. When the Machine whispers the trigger once again, in your Master’s voice, you try to relax, but your body is instinctively fearful. Anyway, it is not up to you to slowly relax your limbs – your body must obey, instantly, and without hesitation. You know that this is the Machine’s ultimate goal for this session. Nevertheless, you orgasm, at least succeeding in draining yourself in this one way for your Master.

To give up your strength without fear or hesitation, and to obey your Master’s will, whether that means having you fall into a soft bed, or hit the pavement in some parking lot. That is your task. This is a hard lesson to learn. You have been a good slave for some time now, and you had not realized how prideful you were about your strength. You are grateful that the Machine is slowly giving your Master control over every unruly part of you. Whenever he wants to, your Master will be able to drain you, if only you can bring the same obedience to this task as you do to the others that are asked of you. The Machine is patient. Your flesh will learn.

The cycle continues until you are able to shoot all the virility and power of your muscles out through your orgasm. Then, it continues a little longer. You find that you don’t mind. The Machine takes good care of its slaves.

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