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At the same time, that search would alert my crowning achievement, Selecta’s educational neural network. When, with a 93% probability, they searched again, to see if they could learn more about Renee, the neural net would feed them new content, thoroughly laced with Selecta product placement and precisely geared to their specific level of education with regard to the strict disciplining of young women. That level would, with the help of the neural net, begin to grow at the pace best suited to make them, the consumer, a happier user of Selecta’s products and services—as well as a happier dominant or submissive.
In the end, with an 88% probability—a percentage that represented around three million users on a daily basis, now in my third year as senior vice president of education—the consumer would reach the most explicit content. It took them an average of six months to go from the cotton candy billionaire romance to the curated videos of a young woman’s harshest punishments and most overwhelming climaxes under her husband’s, or master’s, or daddy’s stern paddle or his rigid cock.
At that point, as far as Marketing’s current research showed, they had become Selecta customers for life—and, the part that made me proudest, their life-satisfaction rating had gone up an average of eight percentage points. The number that made my bosses sit up and take notice, on the other hand, was the one that represented the corporation’s gold standard: the percentage of households practicing loving discipline in one form or another had risen six points among Selecta’s consumer base, and applications for admission to the New Modesty increased a point or two in the wake of each new campaign of this type that we launched.
I hadn’t even considered, when I had purchased Renee the previous night, that I might feature her in a campaign. Really it simply hadn’t occurred to me that her story in my house might be a love story at all. I liked to fuck gorgeous young women, and I liked to keep them in line when they misbehaved. I liked it best of all when I had ascertained that the lovely girl in question stood in need of very stern discipline. I had bought Renee because she seemed a unique opportunity to spend a year doing precisely that, at my leisure and according to my desires.
That unique opportunity had, in the space of less than twenty-four hours, turned into something… well, if not completely different then at least only distantly related. Still a unique opportunity, though. I didn’t like to say something could bemore uniquethan anything else, sinceuniqueafter all meansone of a kind. If anything could be more unique, though, it felt to me like Renee’s arrival in my life was it.Most unique,even.
* * *
Renee
I whimpered softly into the comforter as Candy turned the plug in my anus.Not too much lube,Master Hendryk had said. I didn’t know if the artificial girl had some special capacity for measuring precise quantities of the viscous fluid she had applied to the terrible stiff thing that held me painfully open. To me it seemed, though, like she had interpretednot too muchto meannot enough.
Her strange alphanumeric outburst seemed to have caused no real change in her conduct. I felt so out of it, so removed from myself, that I almost decided I had imagined it.
“Master didn’t tell me how much of the plug to put in your bottom,” she said, her voice sounding a little meditative. She turned it again, and I let out a little cry of discomfort as I felt the bulk inside my darkest hole move. My fingers clutched at my sore cheeks, trying to widen them to make the ordeal easier.
I heard the door open, and then I heard Master Hendryk’s voice say, “You can take a step back, Candy. I’ll finish giving her the plug.”
I had dipped into subspace again, at the turning of the plug in my anus, so time moved in strange, elastic ways. The light tapping of Master Hendryk’s fingers on the base of the awful thing made me shudder only a fraction of a second later, it seemed to me, though he must have had to take a few steps to get from the door of that enormous bedroom to the bed itself, with me prostrate and offered atop it.
He tapped, and I whimpered… then he pushed, and I cried out.
The cry, though, came in the form of words that I hadn’t intended to say, as far as I knew.
“She…” I said, my voice sounding a sort of panting wail. I took a breath. Master Hendryk twisted the plug a little. “She… she… said something… weird… Candy… numbers…”
The logical part of my mind always seemed to exist in a sort of cocoon, hanging in space, when my sexual submission had reached this level of detachment from my body. I knew somewhere inside that cocoon that my words didn’t make any sense. Somehow I could also tell that that rational segment of my brain had decided I had to tell my master this. Whatever had happened with Candy a moment—or maybe a minute? more?—before Master Hendryk had returned to the bedroom seemed important, somewhere in my consciousness. My mind just didn’t have access to the ability to think completely clearly at the moment, with my fingers spreading my butt-cheeks and my back arching desperately to try to ease the terribly narrow path into which my owner drove the third ridge of the awful black plug.
“Shh,” Master Hendryk said. “Just concentrate on taking your punishment, Renee. You were naughty, and now you’re learning what happens to girls who speak sharply to their bed sisters.”
“I don’t know what she’s talking about!” Candy added, in a perfect Barbie-tries-to-help-Ken kind of voice.
Master Hendryk pressed a little harder. I let out a wrenching sob.
I had to say it, but my body wanted so urgently just to draw the remainder of my mental capacity into subspace, just to help that part of me let go and fall back into the me-less me of my submissive, discipline, valued, cared-for body. If Candy hadn’t repeated that she had no idea what I meant about the numbers I probably would have let it go, so soothing did my master’s voice seem as he told me to accept his harsh dominance.
But it bothered me greatly that this artificial girl had more or less accused me of lying. Master Hendryk might just take it as subspace rambling, and therefore fail to punish me on Candy’s accusation, but I did havesomeangel in me despite the way he had started to erode my pristine self-image. Ididn’tlie to my master, whether that sacred term referred to kindly Master G or brutal Master Hendryk.
“She said all these numbers and letters!” I cried out, my words muffled by the comforter. My master stopped pushing on the base of the plug. “And I think she saidtransmitting.”
I had absolutely no idea how long the silence that followed my words lasted, but it probably didn’t occupy more than a second. I knew it had happened, though, and I clung to that—the idea that Master Hendryk must have at least considered whether to take what I had said seriously.
In the moment following that, though, I felt him push the plug again, with quickly building pressure, and I heard his voice, speaking in a tone both soothing and very, very patronizing.
“Shh, my dear. You imagined that, I’m sure. You know Candy has an AI brain, and so you imagined her behaving like a robot from a science fiction movie. Concentrate on submitting to me, now.”
I let out a sob into the comforter. My owner’s words—the arrogance in his voice, really, more than anything in the words’ meaning—sent a tremor through my pussy. I had told him the thing my brain had decided I needed to tell him, anyway… I had done whatever angelic duty my mind and heart had demanded of me and my master had declined to find it important.
I could let go: Master Hendryk must be right, because he must always be right, the way he was right about my resistance and right about leaving me with Candy to think about my needs. My thoughts, if I could even call them that, traveled in circles, like the ones my master made as he turned the horrible punishment device in my bottom, pushing harder with each revolution.
With a wail, and a spasm that seemed to go from my back to my pussy and down my legs all the way to my toes, I took the third ridge. My anus tightened a little, at least on the valley between that ridge and the flat, flared base of the plug that sat firmly between my bottom-cheeks. I had the whole thing inside me. I moaned a naughty girl moan, suspended between the agony of being so full in that forbidden place and the terrible arousal this harsh discipline seemed to bring elsewhere.
My backside moved in a lewd, mortifying way, bouncing on its own without any input from my brain. I whimpered as I felt my back arch, understanding that my body was trying to show Master Hendryk my bare, pink, needy pussy, in a desperate hope he might find it pretty enough to touch, to rub, to fuck… tousesome way… any way… however he wanted as long as he gave me the tiniest bit of the friction that alone could ease the suffering of my terrible punishment.
He didn’t. I bit my lip and felt my forehead furrow as deep, it felt like, as the fluffy waves in the surface of the comforter.
