by Candy Dance
*Publishers Note: This short story is previously published in Future Fantasies Volume One.
Blurb: Real woman, Lisette tries to take her fate into her hands by masquerading as a sexual cyborg. But her new master and real hunk of a man, Rider, has no idea that his sexy new 'bot' is really a real live woman.
Master/ slave play, a little spanking, coerced dinner making, sex bot that cannot cook, high heeled pink ankle boots, belly rubbing in an anti gravity chamber and on the hood of a cherry mustang. Rousing partner masturbation. Tender and forceful his/her oral sex. Coerced stripping.
Cherry Girl
By Candy Dance
Chapter One
“A virgin what?” Rider muttered, looking down the petite length of the feminine sexual cyborg which was standing demurely in front of him. Even the incredible cyborg creation’s cheeks were turning pink.
Christ, they were manufacturing these sex bots too real, Rider considered. His black-eyed gaze latched onto a pair of buxom breasts of indecent proportions to the bot’s petite height. Not that he was complaining about that . . . she had full, rounded hips and a small waist to carry them. All of her attributes appeared young and were manufactured firm. Uplifting, so to speak. The ass on her must be decadent heaven, but he’d not moved around her to see. Her lush proportions were displayed in a skin-tight pink spandex jumpsuit, which clung so tightly he could see the expression of the plump little slit between her sleek thighs.
“I am the newest model, labeled the virgin maiden. I'm manufactured to be completely naive . . . to be molded to your personal desires.”
Rider listened raptly to her voice. It was like flaming peach liqueur sliding huskily down his throat. The voluptuous maiden had not looked directly at him once, but instead gazed shyly at his chest. Which was at her eye level, of course. Still he'd envisioned, for this six-month journey, a more brazen bot, er . . . woman, as he had always had before. A sexual bot was one of the things that kept a man from going insane during interminably long space voyages. Hell, the postal cargo ships barely needed attention . . . a human was on-board only in case of an emergency and for routine checks to make sure that all of the systems were functioning properly. Hence the sex bots . . . a man had to do something!
However, he’d learned a long time ago how to work a sexy bot for the most long-term enjoyment. A smart man drew out the experiences over time to stave off boredom later. A man could only screw a bot so many hundreds of times and be excited about it. But a virgin bot? Hell, it didn’t matter, he was stuck with her, because he’d already engaged the ship and it had left orbit two hours ago, before he’d thought to check out the accoutrements.
Molded to my pleasure, huh? “I’m going to name you, Cherry, and you will call me Master, unless I give you permission to call me by my name, Rider.”
“Yes, Master,” Cherry replied, with a pink blush moving down her slender throat.
“Too real,” Rider muttered. Still, he found himself wondering if he could make those beautiful melon-shaped breasts of hers turn pink.
“Well . . . ,” Rider mumbled as he cleared his throat. He’d like to strip her naked now and get a good look, but six months was a long time and he knew it was best to keep his pace slow in the beginning . . . Huh, not to pop the cherry too quickly!
“All right then, go fix my dinner and bring it to me in the control room, Cherry.”
“Dinner!” Cherry squeaked, raising her eyes to him with a startled gaze.
Rider was surprised to see that Cherry’s eyes were a smoky gray with lavender highlights, quite beautiful and it seemed quite intelligent. Christ, they usually made the sexual bots dumber than dirt. Smart and a virgin? Rider realized an anticipation building inside of himself that he'd not felt in years. Not since he’d had his first sexual bot experience on his first run. They said that a man always fell in love with his first bot . . . and he had.
He’d been just a callow kid then, who could help it? It had been his first sexual encounter, even though it was a sex bot. He’d learned his lesson though, after the heartbreak of that unreality. A man doing his kind of work just spent too many years alone. Maybe it was time to retire? He had enough money saved now and he wasn’t sure what kept him doing this work. Force of habit he supposed, and the fact that he had no family or anything to stop for.
“Yes, Cherry, . . . dinner . . . in an hour. In the control room.”
Rider heard the answering demure, “Yes, Master,” as his strides took him out of the cubicle into the corridor.
Chapter Two
“Dinner?” Lisette muttered. “I didn’t know sexual cyborgs had anything to do with dinner!”
Maybe they were programmed for it, Lisette thought, and what did she know about cooking food on a technological Mecca like this ship? She'd never seen so many doodads and gadgets. Darn, this ruse could be harder to pull off than she’d thought! It had seemed like such a brilliant idea when she’d first conjured it up. She, a human woman, posing as a sexual cyborg to get pregnant. Men were so hard to find out on the rim of space. A woman just had to be clever. All the cargo carriers, who were men, shunned taking real women on their lengthy space voyages. There were stories about real-life murders a half-century ago when they had tried it, and it was not always the women who were in their last death throes at the end of the voyage.
“Men,” Lisette grumbled as she tried to turn her body in the direction in which she presumed the kitchen attachment to be, except that the skin-tight spandex she wore was anything but resilient. She moved down the cramped companionway like a pasted-up stick figure. Darn, she could not even bend her elbows. She had put on the gut-tight garment, figuring to firm up and refine any small shapely flaws she might have. Heavens, sex bots were perfect! It was one of those stumbling points, of many, her sister Leah had pointed out along the way. When she took the suit off, perfection would fall.
“Not terribly,” Lisette reassured herself. “I’m still young!”
Only she'd envisioned this man Rider, who by the way was not the lithe blond with swirling blue eyes with whom she thought this postal journey was contracted. She thought that he would be in the throes of passion when she disrobed. Or at least that it would be in the dark. She understood that men and women made love in the dark. However, this man Rider had a masculine virility that she'd never have comprehended, had she not seen him in person.
Lisette shivered as she turned a tight corner in the companionway. She’d only seen two men in person in her entire life. She’d seen a lot of pictures but only two men breathing the same air. One was a postal carrier named Sam that came to Maidenheads, the all female colony where she lived. Sam came once a month to deliver the mail and the only way that she or any other women on Maidenheads could see Sam was to buy a ticket. Sam didn’t know anything about the viewing; he went about his work unloading the postal carrier, oblivious, while hundreds of ladies watch him from a distance using binoculars. The other man was her dad, but she’d only been four years old the last time she’d seen him. Lisette shook her head of short blond curls. She did not enjoy remembering her dad because it always made her sad.
Now Rider looked nothing like Sam, nor any of the other men she’d seen in the black market pictures of men that she hoarded. Rider was older. Rider was bigger. Rider was, well . . . scruffier. All of the men in her black market collection of pictures were clean-shaven. But Rider had a shadow of whiskers on his square chin. It was not a beard, just a rough dark shadow, and he had gray hair . . . lots of it. Long silvery-gray hair, peppered with strands of black, hung down to his shoulders and curled around his neck. A neck, Lisette mused, that she had spent quite a bit of time staring at. Why, there was even peppered gray hair curled in the deeply muscular
hollow of Rider’s larynx. Heavens, even his throat had muscular tendons.
Lisette tried to bend her elbows so she could bring her hands up to cover her overheated cheeks, but they wouldn’t budge more than a quarter of the way up. Darn, she was going to have to do something serious about this. Maybe cut the sleeves off. If she ever found the kitchen attachment. It was a good thing that sexual cyborgs labeled "virgin maiden" were touted to be blushers, because Lisette concluded she would be doing a lot of that.
Chapter Three
Rider paced the control deck . . . not a large space, but he could manage five long strides before he had to turn around to pace back the other way.
“So much for molded to my pleasure,” he mumbled as he checked the time again. His beautiful buxom sex bot was twenty minutes late with his dinner. Yet he refused to go searching for her. He did have the, “Master,” persona to uphold. In that vein, he would be better off punishing her when she got there. Instantly, he envisioned baring Cherry’s ripe butt and bending her over his knee to indulge himself in a spirited spanking. God, he loved a woman’s ass . . . or maybe he would make her kneel at his feet, naked, while she fed him with her fingers.
Damn, he’d been half-cocked ever since seeing that courtesan figure of Cherry’s . . . No, Rider halted in mid-stride. No it was ever since looking into those startled lilac-kissed gray eyes of hers. “Shit!” Rider rubbed a broad hand across the five o’clock shadow of whiskers on his chin. This was not good.
“Master, please forgive me for being late.”
Rider jerked his full-size body with a tense motion as he swiveled. Cherry had surprised him, and he found that his view was of the top of her head of blond curls. She was bowing in supplication with a tray of food pushed forward in her hands. Damn, she was shaking. Without even thinking, Rider quickly grabbed the tray from Cherry’s trembling hands, noticing that the sleeves of her spandex jumpsuit were gone. It was then he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. A purely feminine . . . delicate . . . sniffle.
“You’re not crying?” Rider demanded, as he dumped the tray on top of the propulsion systems counter top with a clattering sound. He had Cherry’s fine-boned quivering little chin scooped up into his big paw a second later, lifting it so he could see her face. Miniature crystal tears ran down her cheeks. One. Two . . . in slow drops.
Rider had never heard of a sex bot that cried before, unless a man requested it for some type of sexual gratification. Only Cherry was not exactly sobbing, her eyes were closed and she appeared to be trying very hard not to cry. Her vulnerable pose allowed him a moment to study her. She was exquisite, even with a bit of a red nose. Her face had a delicate bone structure, like a fairy princess in some kid's story. She would probably bruise easily . . . if she were human.
“Christ,” Rider muttered, there he went again, fantasizing about real women. He would never-never get a real woman who was going to be as obedient as this shapely little sex bot was going to be! Rider turned his thoughts back to the moment and assumed that Cherry was sniffling from fear of punishment. Which he decided quickly, not choosing to examine the decision to closely either, that she’d suffered enough already.
“Come on, Cherry, you can serve me my dinner now.”
Cherry’s eyes snapped open, wide and shimmering in gray-lavender. The look was horrified. Christ, what had he done now?
“Oh, Master.” Cherry’s pink lips trembled in glistening moisture from her tears. “I-I,” she stuttered.
Lisette’s mind was working frantically, thinking that if Rider tried to eat the food she’d brought he might kill her or . . . or kill himself. She'd heard of people becoming sick and dying from space rations that were not properly prepared. She'd been trying anxiously to come up with a reason . . . a way to get out of this mess. Everything she’d ever read on sexual cyborgs said nothing about cooking and especially not with those foreign gadgets in that place called, and she used this term loosely, a kitchen.
She'd never seen a kitchen like it before; she could not even find the oven. Darn, darn, she did not think that sexual bots were supposed to cry! Maybe the virginal maiden models did? She could only hope! Desperate and not knowing what to say, Lisette began to kiss and nuzzle Rider’s hands that held her face so warmly. Geeze, sex was what she was here for wasn’t it? Maybe she could distract him?
Rider tensed as an infusion of raw lust rode down his tall frame, pooling in his groin and nearly undoing him in the split-second that it coursed through him. Christ, he'd never had a woman kiss his hands. His balls certainly, but not his blunt work-worn hands. The flesh of Cherry’s lips was gossamer silk, leaving dewy impressions on his knuckles, palms and the backs of his square hand. What the hell was she doing? Only his body did not give a shit for the answer to that question.
Rider promptly used his sexily kissed hands to commandeer Cherry’s trim waist, dragging her curvaceous body up the full length of his as his mouth did a deep dive. Nectar. Rider suckled a dainty tongue that was pure moist nectar while he tried to see how far he could get his tongue down Cherry’s throat. His hands were grabbing cushions of feminine ass . . . lifting until he had Cherry’s hot little nest settled over his throbbing dick which was pushing against the fabric of his pants. God, Cherry was petite enough that he had no problem holding her, so he rubbed her snatch up and down his hard length as he began screwing Cherry’s mouth with warm thrusts of his tongue.
Rider heard Cherry mewling in the back of her throat as she took all he could give. Christ, the mouth on her could take his whole dick, up to his balls. Through the haze of his rampant lust, that thought brought him back to the living. Damn, if he wasn’t careful, he’d have Cherry plowed and screaming for more the first day out. Still, he had to do something, he was stiff as a titanium board. All over a little bit of hand kissing and tongue sucking! With the willpower that he'd always prided himself on, except moments before, he let Cherry gradually slide down to her feet, and then he stepped back holding onto her shoulders.
She looked dazed. Hell, she looked fucked with her head fallen back and her pink lips turned red like bruised rose petals from his kisses. Her breathing was heavy, her large breasts heaving in a deep-dished swaying motion. He curled his fingers on the top of Cherry’s slender shoulders. Damn, but he wanted to touch those tits. He fought the urge though, knowing in the long run that anticipation was as heady as sex.
“Unzip my pants, Cherry-girl, I’m going to teach you about a hand job . . . or a helping hand between us.”
“Yes, Master.” Cherry’s voice was as husky as warm whiskey and her hands trembled on the zipper of his pants, making his cock twitch in anticipation. God, this was better than he could ever remember.
Chapter Four
What came out of Rider’s pants into Lisette’s hands was amazing. She'd seen pictures of a man’s penis before, but nothing was like holding the procreation rod in one’s hand! It was so hot and thicker than she’d ever imagined, with smooth skin sheathed tightly over steely hardness. A poker of steel with a velvet head that had an intriguing crease in the very top. There was the barest hint of a creamy substance in the crease and Lisette could not help feeling the waste of those thousands of minuscule sperm that could have gotten her pregnant.
It was difficult to get pregnant in the outermost regions of space. There was limited access to men and the different conditions on each planet affected fertility. Rigorous . . . two people had to be rigorously involved, and then surely in six months time the seed could be well planted?
“Wrap your hand all the way around me, Cherry,” Rider coaxed as he placed his back to the wall behind him.
Lisette did as Rider requested however it was barely a fit for her small fingers around the thickness of him. Then abruptly Rider swung his hips and his wide penis pushed through the circle of her fingers.
“Squeeze it, Cherry-girl,” Rider uttered hoarsely.
Hearing the hoarse rasp of Rider’s command, Lisette glanced upward from the mesmerizi
ng view of Rider’s heavy penis in her hand. She saw that his eyes were closed with his head tilted back on the wall while the tendons on his throat were strained. His firm lips were drawn back and the expanse of his muscled chest heaved beneath the blue shirt he wore. His hips moved back and forth, pushing and pulling the incredible width of his stiff penis through the squeezing tightness of her fingers. She did not have a clue what he was doing exactly, but the energy was incredible and somehow the dampness that had started in her panties when he'd kissed her, got wetter.
“That’s it, sweet thing, hold on to me.” The motion of Rider’s hips increased and a wave of heat from his body washed over Lisette, as he growled. “Grab my balls, darlin. Squeeze them.”
Lisette looked down at Rider’s penis hammering through the circle of her fingers. Heavens! He must mean his testicles? Lisette grabbed the tightly filled sacs, afraid suddenly that she’d grabbed them too hard when Rider groaned. But then he rasped, “Harder. Squeeze them harder, Cherry. Oh, Christ!” It was a guttural roar from Rider and his penis expanded, pushing her fingers open as it throbbed hotly in her hand. Then suddenly Lisette felt warm globules on her hand and she jerked her gaze downward.
“Oh no! No!” Lisette cried. It was such a waste! A terrible, terrible waste! Before she knew what she was doing, she was on her knees with her tongue licking up the cream. Somehow she thought if she could get the seed inside her it would not be wasted.
“Where the hell did you learn to do that?” Rider demanded, hoarsely.
Lisette stopped in mid-lick, guilt shooting her gaze up to Rider’s black eyes, while he held onto her blond curls with both of his big hands. “I-I just . . . um, thought it up,” she whispered.
