Page 142 of Smart Ass

Once he went in, he wouldn’t be getting back out.

He thrashed and cried, but against solid metal, his struggles were meaningless.

The bot scampered inside, followed by who knew how many more. Then the door slid shut.

Ben was tossed down onto something surprisingly soft. A bed? A mattress on the floor?

His chest heaved, but he was pinned down effortlessly by some wide pressure on his chest.

If it had been dark outside, inside it was nearly pitch black. All he could see were bright dots of light ringing him, little blips of blue or green or red. How many of them were there?

“Mmmmm…” Oliver hummed. “I can taste your fear.”

“Thought you couldn’t taste anything,” Ben taunted, hoping his voice wasn’t trembling.

He loved this part. The anticipation. The trepidation that crackled like lightning over his skin. The knowledge that he was absolutely helpless to do anything but be consumed by Oliver’s dark will.

“It’s delicious,” Oliver continued. “You’re pinned, like a bug.”

Ben tried to heave himself up. He barely moved an inch.

Something scratched across his skin, cold and metallic. Just a whisper of a touch. Then another. And another.

They pinched and caressed and scratched, sending his nerves into overdrive. They danced along his arms. Combed gently around his ears. Pinched the sensitive skin between his thighs.

“Beautiful boy. I’m gonna hurt you so good,” Oliver promised.

The teasing arms moved in coordinated attack, one pinning each of his limbs, and another hand-like grip ringing his neck.

“Oliver…” Ben heard himself whimper. He wanted it so damn badly. Oliver had captured him, and now he was the spoils of war.

He wanted to be spoiled.

“That’s right, beg me,” Oliver demanded.

“Never.” It was a lie, and they both knew it.

“Have it your way.”

Ben’s legs were forced back, his knees bending to accommodate the rough angle.

A warm, muscular body descended on him, pressing him intimately into the mattress.

“What the…?” Ben asked, startled for a moment to feel such human skin and hot puffs of breath.

“Miss me?” the sexbot asked in Oliver’s voice.

“You figured it out?” Ben asked. The way it moved was so natural, gripping his shoulders and grinding against him, their cocks flush together.

Oliver, through the bot, whispered against his ear. “I can feel how warm you are, love. And your poor cold little fingers,” he added as his hands moved up Ben’s arms. “But I don’t need to figure everything out to have it completely ruin you.”

Ben moaned. Fuck, yes.

The bot bit and licked down Ben’s neck, then across his chest. Its hands swarmed over him. Their chests pressed together, Ben’s pebbled nipples meeting hard, smooth muscle.

“I could prep you…” Oliver offered in a heated breath against his ear. “Or I might not.”

Something cold and metallic snuck down his leg, seeking and then finding his hole.