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The view on the computer screen, however, diverted me a great deal more urgently than the lovely spring day. I got up to lower the blind on the nearest window so I could see Renee and Candy properly, their gorgeous naked bodies unobscured by glare.
I sat back down and took in the display as a whole, rather than letting my eyes be drawn, as my atavistic alpha instincts urged, to the figures in the video window that occupied the majority of the screen’s real estate.
“Why don’t we start by hugging?” Candy asked in her always cheerful tone, her voice clearly audible over the rush of warm water from the twelve showerheads that sprayed the naked girls both from above and on three sides. They had gotten themselves nice and clean, first of all; I had greatly enjoyed the sight of Renee biting her lip as she had rubbed her pussy with the soapy washcloth, a mixture of discomfort and awakening arousal on her face. Now Candy began the seduction with her frank suggestion, at the same time putting her hands on Renee’s slim hips, and turning the new girl toward her.
Instead of watching what happened in the video window—as my slowly hardening cock understandably suggested—I turned my eyes to the evolving flow of information on the other side of the screen. Not as arousing, perhaps, but from an intellectual perspective even more interesting.
Also, if I did my job as Renee’s owner well, more likely to make both of us happy with her sexual service to me—as well as with the progress she would make here in my house toward an independent life of personal growth and, just as important as far as I was concerned, sexual fulfillment.
That principle, the idea that an Institute concubine was sold to a dominant not merely for his sexual pleasure, or even for their mutual enjoyment of her shameful service in his bed, served as the bedrock of my philosophy. It made my job as head of Selecta’s education division feel to me like less of a job, or even a career, and more like a mission to save the world—or at least to save those in the world who felt the reciprocal needs Renee and I felt.
So my innate dominant arousal might be telling me to look at the gorgeous, slick, embracing flesh of the girls getting to know one another in the shower, but my real passion—and my swiftly growing affection for Renee—drew my eyes to the data feed scrolling down the window on the upper right side of my screen.
Most important, right now, I had to decide when I would go back over to the house and play with my new toy—and whether I would do it with or without the help of my slightly older but still very shiny toy.
As measured by the microscopic sensor placed without Renee’s knowledge between her vagina and her anus, my new toy’s arousal level currently fluctuated between seven and nine out of ten. Reading the ceaseless data generated by all the various kinds of biometric sensors Selecta could deploy didn’t represent a specialty of mine, though I could generally learn a fair amount from looking at the raw numbers, whether they came from a perineal sensor or from, say, an infrared camera in combination with a voice analyzer. Thankfully, the latest version of the Institute assessment bot—a neural net that had been trained to do the most basic work of an assessment team—made up for the analytic skills I lacked.
The bot, which the assessors themselves had nicknamedAssBotin an uncharacteristically juvenile—I thought, anyway—moment, put its comments in the window that occupied the lower right corner of the screen.
Current fluctuation in Renee’s arousal, combined with skin galvanics, probably (87% certainty) represents reaction to uncertainty in Candy’s intentions toward her. I theorize (53% certainty): cognitive function (slightly) impairing arousal cycle, as Renee tries to discern her master’s intentions behind Candy’s.
I judge (74% certainty) fluctuation benign and likely (61% certainty) constructive: Renee’s principle need, as assessed at the Institute, is to feel herself used with utter thoroughness by her master, precisely as he chooses. Her confusion at this point will, according to this model, serve to reinforce her impression of becoming a mere tool of her master’s enjoyment. The participation of another concubine—a role for which an artificially intelligent concubine is perhaps ideally suited—will further that process.
After absorbing AssBot’s opinion, I let my gaze wander back to the shower scene. If I remembered correctly, the bathroom alone had thirty-seven separate, tiny cameras installed in the tile; the house as a whole had something like six thousand. I could switch between them with a tap on the screen, but here too the house manager’s AI offered my preferred solution—it knew very well what I liked, and it had chosen from the many available views a close-up of Candy kissing Renee passionately as the warm water poured down over them.
My eyes flicked back over to the data, just to check that magic composite number into which the assessment algorithms poured all their available sensor data and their real-time first order analysis.
9
When I returned my attention to the video window, the shot had changed: it showed Candy’s hand on Renee’s hip, inching downward and rearward to hold Renee’s bruised right ass-cheek. I let myself admire my handiwork in the lovely double stripes from the firmly wielded rattan, just for a moment. A chime from the screen brought me back to the number again.
10
The ten flashed, and two words appeared beneath it.
Recalibration. Pre-orgasm.
Renee had just felt more arousal than she had ever experienced during the time Selecta had observed her as an indentured sexual servant—from her recruitment and all the way through her Institute training. As far as I knew, that generally didn’t happen, especially on a girl’s first day in her new owner’s home.
I smiled as I rose and turned off the screen. My cock gave a little leap at the thought of the pleasures to come.
Time to play with my shiny new toy.
* * *
Renee
I let out a sob of arousal into Candy’s soft, sweet-tasting mouth. Her soapy fingers, gentle on my sore bottom, traced a cane welt and then went further down, between my cheeks and then between my thighs, making me bend my knees and push out my rear end, then move my bare feet apart on the wet tile.
I tried to say,Please don’t, but I couldn’t even make thepofplease, because my mouth just kept kissing Candy’s mouth back.
Seduction? I had thought my reluctance and shame would make it necessary for Master Hendryk to order me to have sex with my new bed sister—that whatever Candy tried to do to make mewantto have sex with her wouldn’t work. At the Institute, I had learned to play with another girl as our master watched, and to please a dominant, demanding older woman. I hadn’t liked it, except that I liked knowing that I could do it. The thought of it still always made me blush furiously, just as I blushed under Candy’s caresses in the shower, but I had told myself it just didn’tdoanything for me, sexually anyway.
But Candy had boldly taken hold of my hips and turned me toward her with surprising strength, under the warm water pouring down in what seemed a waterfall from the huge golden showerhead on the ceiling. She had leaned her face toward mine, and for reasons I couldn’t seem to track down inside my whirling mind, I had tilted my own face and parted my lips. The seduction I had thought my artificial bed sister couldn’t accomplish had happened in an instant.
Her two middle fingers began to move up and down my tingling inner pussy lips, pushing gently into my sore sheath to find and to draw my own wetness. I cried out softly into her mouth as her other hand took gentle hold of my bottom-cheek, kneading it very softly to bring out the soreness from our master’s cane even as she—yes, fine—seduced my pussy with those skillful fingers.
My cheeks burned, because I had never felt so much need with another girl. No, I realized, with still more heat in my face—I didn’t think I had ever felt so much wanton desire withanyone… not Master G… not even when Master Hendryk’s brutal fucking had taken me to a place of submission I had never visited before.
