Synopsis: On a distant space-station, an unwitting traveller finds herself at the mercy of a strange, robotic intelligence. 2K words.

Warnings: dub-con, erotic torture, voyeurism.

(Image credits: David Schleinkofer, 1982.)

Wanda pulled uselessly at her wrists, which were tied behind her back. She was reclining in a comfortable chair of white stereo-leather, which moulded impersonally to the curvature of her ass and thighs. There were holes in the back that specifically allowed her arms to be tied behind her, and although she shifted, she could not pull free. In addition, although the room was white and clinical - blindingly so, although there was no source of light that she could see - the rope that bound her wrists tight together was scratchy and mundane, a plain and simple hemp.

She looked around. The walls were plain white, and shadows fled the celestial rooms of the bright spaceship. This was meant to be a simple hotel stay. It had been intended as a brief pit-stop on her way to the Galactia quadrant - long space voyages could not be completed all at once. Even with faster than light travel, not all the jump-cruisers were heading in the same direction. Often, you would have to switch flights mid-journey, and at those interchanges, it was often reasonable to book a stay at a space hotel, somewhere on an intergalactic highway.

Well, it was technically a highway - nevertheless, it probably got less traffic than the loneliest Earth ghost town. The hotel was a white needle hanging in the dead of space, drifting gently and alone through the void, half-hidden by the dark planet it orbited.

There was nobody coming here by accident. There was no-one to save her from whatever she’d been trapped by.

Wanda looked up as she heard a chime, and a strange screen emerged seamlessly from the ceiling, and a blank glowing rectangle looked down at her.

It tilted back and forth, seeming to survey her like a doctor examining a patient. Then, satisfied that she seemed merely confused, it clicked as if settling into a position, and became inert.  It was some two metres away from her face, laid out like a blank TV screen, but it was too large for her to avoid looking at. At the moment it was inert and lifeless. It just hung there, waiting.

Wanda looked around. There didn’t seem to be any doors - just seamless white walls on all sides.

There was a chime, and the TV flicked alive.

She couldn’t make sense of it, at first. It seemed to be playing a video. She recognised a similar white room as to the one she was trapped in, but this one seemed to have a glass wall, and it was this the camera was looking through. Slowly, it zoomed in and focused on just the interior. But Wanda couldn’t make sense of the figures moving there.

There was a bright, colourful plant. It was set up in a white flowerpot, and it seemed to be in bloom. The video quality obviously wasn’t perfect, because the branches seemed to be rustling and moving independent of any wind, and after a moment a slight fog filled the room, which exaggerated the effect. The tree shivered in no wind, the fog dispersed, and the video lingered on the tree in the white, blank room. It held for a long minute, and there was a chime, and the video ended.

The screen went blank, expectantly.

Wanda was simply confused.

So, whoever this was, they seemed to want to show her videos? Some AI had obviously gone rogue, here - this was very clearly some kind of ‘data gathering’ which was exactly the kind of nonsense lonely AI’s got up to. This also explained how she’d been bound - it was extremely frustrating for robotic life when those pesky human intelligences insisted on wandering off, and being hard to monitor.

Well, baffling as it was, at least it was mostly harmless. She tugged more firmly at the bonds, and stated aloud, “I would like to be released, please.”

There was a chime of acknowledgement, but no further response.

She repeated herself in Grackle Common. “I would like to be released.”

There was no chime, but now from the ceiling came a dim whirring. It seemed like speaking the most popular alien language of this quadrant had elicited some kind of reaction.

After a moment, the screen buzzed to life again with that now-familiar chime. However, this time, the video was very different.

The first thing Wanda noticed was that the woman was naked. She was an alien, and had been bent forward over a vault with her arms tied behind herself, and visible beneath her flashing, whip-like tail, was the red, lubricated pucker of her mating entrance. The woman had her head down, so Wanda couldn’t see her expression, but she noticed she was breathing very hard.

Then the Grackle came in.

The Grackle were another species of alien - the most common in this sector, and they were a particularly financially motivated civilisation. They were hermaphrodites, which she knew intellectually, but now found herself given visual proof, as the other alien was also naked, and their tongue hang down their chest in curling, thin arousal.

Wanda clenched her legs together in shock, watching the video.

The woman bent over the vault whimpered faintly, but was unable to object to the Grackle kneeling behind her, and putting their long, thin tongue all the way up her entrance, piercing right through to the end with bright jerks of pleasure, which the woman yelped at. He licked her eagerly, eating her out, and his other tongues soon joined him in kissing and slurping at the alien’s hole.

The woman clearly tried not to, but it wasn’t long before she was shaking in her bonds, and the devil-like length of her tail curled around the Grackle’s head as she spasmed and moaned her climax, and then went limp.

The Grackle drew out and walked away, sated. The video lingered on her messy, panting body for a long, long minute. And then it ended.

Wanda was breathing hard.

This was nothing like what she’d expected this to be. Some kind of voyeuristic construct? It now seemed unlikely to be pure AI, and more likely to be the handiwork of some fetishistic meteor-baron, someone with too much money and very specific interests. Well, she had no interest in being his interest, thank you very much.

It was just as she was thinking this, that the screen started up again.

This video was different again. There were two aliens she didn’t recognise - some kind of semi-aquatic species, perhaps whale-like in nature. This video jumped straight to the middle. The larger of the two had the other balanced on his lap, and was visibly pounding into them with an absolutely monstrous length. The other was drooling and lubricating wildly, and the one beneath showed no signs of stopping.

Then the video changed. This was a different alien pair again. One was kneeling, mouth pressed entirely to the other’s mating parts, and was laving them with slow and affectionate attention. The other jolted, and a faint chirring could be heard onscreen that made Wanda’s hair raise with instinctive fear, but which the alien seemed to flush upon hearing.

Then the video changed once more - again and again, as soon as it reached some arbitrary point in the scene, it would switch to another couple, or another being, each getting more human than the last. Some seemed consensual, but some seemed like the first video, as if the aliens had been forced to comply. Watching it, Wanda wondered how many such videos the facility had archived.

Finally it reached a video, which was different once again to all the rest.

This one had another mixed-alien pair, which was at first of note - and like the first video, one of the figures was a Grackle. This was also a different video in that it did not display sexual acts.

It was a woman chained in iron manacles to the floor, hands and knees, and she was being sexually tortured.

The Grackle had a long crystal weight which dangled at least a foot, and this he had clamped to some sensitive bud at the base of the woman’s private area. She was moaning faintly in distress, as every now and again, the Grackle would flick the heavy weight tugging mercilessly at her sensitive flesh, and she would wince helplessly as the weight swung back and forth between her legs like the pendulum of a bell.

This was the whole video. It continued much longer than the others, and by the end the woman was weeping openly. The Grackle had escalated also to simply tugging on the end of the weight, like he was trying to pull her bud off, and this too seemed to bring them no small pleasure of their own. There was no sex, and the woman was the only one naked. But Wanda could not shut out the sounds the woman was making, and she could not turn her head far enough away to shut out the sight on the screen.

She shut her eyes. Her legs were clamped hard together in sympathy, and to her secret shame, she was also wet from watching the previous videos.

“I want to be released,” she demanded, over the sounds of the sexual torture.

There was, for the first time, a clanging sound. An ill chime. The video paused, but did not turn off.

For the first time, a robotic voice answered her.

“Incorrect statement,” it said, pleasantly.

“What?”

No response.

“I would like to be released.”

“Incorrect statement.” The robot answered her. “High levels of arousal detected.”

“You’re making me watch porn!”

“High levels of arousal detected. Source: restraints. Secondary sources: xeno-sexual acts, submission, stretching, erotic torture-“

“You’re keeping track of what turns me on?”

“Correct statement.” The robot said pleasantly. “Heightened state of arousal is necessary prior to experiments.”

“Wait, what experiments?”

The robot did not answer her, however, and with a chime the video resumed. Wanda yelled and struggled, but could not tug free of the bonds, and the video continued regardless.

After some time, it became clear there would be no response. And it was quite clear what kind of experiments they had in store.

“Bastards,” Wanda said, with feeling. When she found the kinky meteor-baron who had designed this fucked-up facility, she was going to have words.

In response to her struggles, however, the chair underneath her whirred to life. The leg-rests, perhaps predictably, swung out to either side, and in so doing spread her naked thighs so that she could no longer hide from the gleam of arousal on her nether parts. In addition, the chair tilted a little further back, putting her more fully at the mercy of whatever else might enter the room. The TV screen tilted up to follow her, giving her a close-up view of whatever fucked up video they were playing currently, and the chair itself began to thrum lightly with low-level, soothing vibrations. Despite Wanda’s apprehension, she was unable to fight it, as it had been designed specifically to relax her particular species.

It was when the prongs came out that she really twitched and struggled. But it had her in a vice, and kept her spread as the mechanical rods began to poke and whir at the apex of her thighs.

A thin metal rod pinched her nub briefly. Reminded of that torture video, Wanda couldn’t help a moan.

Instantly, the video changed. This one showed a woman tied star-spread over a rack, and an alien with a whip lashing her ass mercilessly. The tails of the whip licked around underneath, drawing blood, and though the woman howled it did not stop the next lash.

Each strike of leather hit Wanda like a crack across her own flesh. The sound was inescapable. And that rod at her pussy wasn’t entering her - no, it was barely even touching her. It was just circling her entrance lightly, teasing at her nub, and simply encouraging excess lubrication.

With the combination of the video and the petting, Wanda was soon panting desperately.

Right as she was on the verge, however, both rod and vibrations ceased. She slumped in place, strangely bereft.

The video lingered for a minute on the exhausted body of the woman, shaking like a leaf in her bonds, and then it too, ended.

The TV screen retracted into the ceiling. The rods returned within the chair. Her legs, however, were still tied to the stirrups - and with a mechanical creak, the leg-rests whirred even further apart, spreading her open to the far wall. Her bare pussy was dripping so much, she could feel it pooling around her thighs.

There was a long wait. For a long time, there was nothing but the empty room, the silence, and the white, impersonal ceiling. Wanda was breathing heavily. She did not speak, not even to object.

After a long minute, there was the sound of the chime.

The far wall clicked to transparency, and through the glass she saw the watchers that had been there the whole time. She saw the thing that she now knew must be the camera. And she saw what they had planned for her.

Wanda whimpered.

Anticipating.

---biologic.neocites.org 11/26/2022---