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Subject: {ASSM} ASFR: Valerian, Mia and Claudia {Titmouse} (M-FAndroid)
Date: Fri, 11 Jan 2002 21:10:02 -0500
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The first segment of this story was posted a few times to
ASS/M over the past several years; this is the first
publication for the remainder. All are parts of an
unpublished (and unfinished) novel that I may revive some
day, so THIS WORK IS COPYRIGHTED BY THE AUTHOR. ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED.
If you don't like explicit writing about sex or if it is
illegal for you to read it, skip this story. Otherwise,
enjoy.
VALERIAN, MIA AND CLAUDIA
(C) Titmouse, 2002
(M-F Android)
VALERIAN SMOKES A CIGAR
Valerian drained the last of his coffee and set the empty
cup on the small table next to his armchair. "Shem," he
said toward the ceiling, "send in Mia." He selected a
cigar from the humidor on the table, lit it and settled
back in the chair.
He had taken only two long drags from the cigar and was
releasing the last as a series of smoke rings when the
study door slid open and a slight, thin figure stepped in.
The door hissed closed.
"Yes, sir?" The wem, a young girl of perhaps 18, stood
with her hands clasped in front and her eyes down.
"Good evening, Mia," Valerian said. "How are you
tonight?" He clicked the privacy switch on the arm of his
chair, isolating the den from the rest of the house.
"Just fine, sir," the girl answered, still not looking
up. Her face was vaguely Asian, perhaps Eurasian, framed
by long black hair. Her eyes - scarcely visible from this
angle - were large and dark, with long lashes above high
cheekbones. Her figure was slim, almost boyish, although
the close-fitting dress showed off her small breasts, her
trim waist and the modest flare of her hips. The ankle-
length dress of jade green velvet was slit on one side to
just below the knee, revealing a well-formed calf and
slippered foot.
"Do you feel like some fun tonight?" Valerian asked.
The wem did not answer for a moment. Her eyes flicked
upward to Valerian's face, then back down.
"Of course, sir," Mia said quickly, as if to make up for
her hesitation. "If you wish."
Valerian smiled around his cigar. "I think I do," he
said. He took the cigar from his mouth and blew out a
stream of smoke. "Get me a brandy, would you?"
Mia turned and walked to the sideboard in small steps
enforced by the long dress. She raised her head as she
walked, revealing a softly rounded chin above an elegant
neck. At the sideboard, she lifted the stopper from a
crystal decanter and poured a generous amount into the
snifter next to it. Taking it in both hands, she carried
the tulip-shaped glass across the room to Valerian, once
again lowering her eyes toward the floor. Mia knelt
gracefully at Valerian's feet and presented the snifter,
one hand under the bottom.
As he took the glass from her, Valerian noted with
pleasure the elegance of her every move, the gracefulness
with which Mia presented the glass to his hand, two arching
fingers supporting the base, the liquid in it scarcely
moving. A brief frown at his own relative clumsiness
twitched the corners of his mouth when the brandy sloshed
as he took the snifter from her hand. He raised the glass,
inhaled the fragrance of the amber liquid, and took a sip.
The warmth slid across his tongue, into his throat, and
down into his stomach.
Mia knelt near his knee, eyes down, hands on her thighs.
Valerian looked at her, enjoying her beauty, considering
his next move. He dipped the damp end of the cigar into
the brandy, then put it into his mouth and took a puff.
"Why don't you help me get ready," he suggested. Mia
looked up at him briefly. He nodded reassuringly, and she
lowered her eyes again as she raised up on her knees and
reached toward his waist. Her slim fingers released the
knot in the belt of his dressing gown, draped the belt over
the arms of the chair, and then folded back the gown,
revealing his bare chest, plump stomach and pajama pants.
"But, first, a kiss," Valerian added, putting the cigar
in the ashtray. Mia placed one hand on the arm of the
chair and the other on his thigh as she raised up on her
knees and slowly tilted up her face. For a fraction of a
second, her eyes met his, then her eyelids slid down to
cover them. The tip of her tongue appeared to moisten her
lips, then withdrew as she parted and extended them
slightly to meet his own.
Valerian enjoyed kissing his wem. Mia's were silky soft
and warm, tentative but accepting. He slid his tongue
forward, and her lips opened to let him in. Putting a
finger under her chin to tilt Mia's head back, Valerian
kissed her deeply. She met his increased pressure, not
pulling away, welcoming but not pushing forward against his
mouth. She made a sound at the back of her throat that
might have been a faint moan.
"Thank you, Mia," he said as he pulled back, then added
as she hesitated, "Go on."
Valerian settled back into his chair as Mia's warm
fingers opened the snap at the top of his pajamas. He
lifted his hips briefly as she slid the garment down his
thighs. He took another sip of brandy and closed his eyes
as he felt the first feathery touch of her lips. As she
nuzzled at his middle, he popped one eye open to locate his
cigar, took a puff and replaced it in the ashtray. He
groaned with pleasure as Mia's wet mouth enveloped him.
As the wem worked on him, Valerian's thoughts drifted.
He remembered the moment he first saw Mia in the buyer's
lounge at Elegant Companions. She had slipped through the
curtains of his booth wearing a long crimson dress in a
style much like the green one she was wearing now. She had
stood, eyes down and hands clasped before her, just as she
had stood near the door to his study only moments ago.
When he had said "Raise your head, child," she had lifted
her eyes to his, and he had seemed to plunge into the dark
pools. He had known instantly that he had to have her.
Mia's head lifted and lowered, sliding him in and out of
her warm mouth. She moved a hand up and wrapped her
fingers around him. She was not like Wendy, his previous
favorite, who performed vigorously, greedily, seeming to
take as much pleasure from the act as he did. Mia took her
pleasure from pleasing him. She focused entirely on him.
She was worth her weight in gold, which was more or less
what she had cost Valerian. But well worth it, he thought
again, as he had reassured himself many times.
His head lolled to one side and his half-open eyes
drifted toward the wide chaise longue near the corner.
Part of him wanted to stop Mia, to rise and lead her to it,
to strip the tight dress from her slim, elegant body, and
to plunge himself into her depths. Valerian groaned again.
The dominant part of him decided to stay right where he was.
"That feels so good, pretty one," he whispered. "Go
ahead. Don't hold back. Finish me."
Without letting go, Mia shifted position, moving deeper
between his knees. She took him deeply into her throat,
then pulled back and nursed at him more strongly. Her
fingers tightened around him and slid up and down along the
length.
"Ah, god!" Valerian moaned. A wave of pleasure rolled
through him. He felt the tightening, the rising force in
his middle that signaled his impending release. No longer
able to accept Mia's ministrations passively, he began to
thrust his hips forward and back. The slender wem was
panting as she took quick breaths around him. Valerian
felt another and stronger wave of pleasure that washed up
and over him, carrying him away. He exploded in a pleasure
only a few notches short of pain, groaning and making
inarticulate sounds.
Mia took the surge of Valerian's ecstasy without
flinching, letting his thrusting hips drive him into her,
gulping convulsively to swallow his fluid. As he collapsed
back into the chair, Mia continued to nurse at him. Even
small movements of her tongue sent electric shocks through
him. As Valerian relaxed, she laid her cheek on his thigh,
holding him in her mouth, keeping him there with a gentle
suction.
It was several minutes before Valerian stirred. As
always, he was slightly embarrassed after sex without
having the slightest idea why. Now that the heat, the
desire, had faded into satisfaction, he had awakened to a
reality that was base and animal-like. He was faintly
disgusted with himself, especially his hairy, protruding
belly, larger than ever it seemed.
"Thank you, Mia," he said curtly. "You may go now."
Sensing his mood, Mia pulled back from him, planted a
light kiss on his now limp member, and stood up, her eyes
again downcast. Valerian pulled his pajamas up, feeling
embarrassed at his exposure. As she turned to go, he
called her name, and Mia looked back over her shoulder.
"That wasn't much for you, I realize," Valerian said,
somewhat awkwardly. "Perhaps next time."
"Oh, no, sir," Mia said. "You mustn't feel that way. It
is my purpose to serve you. It makes me happy to give you
pleasure. I hope I was... satisfactory?"
Valerian smiled. He was pretty sure Mia knew that she
was much more than satisfactory. It was part of the
unspoken game they played. "Quite satisfactory," he said,
and thought he saw a brief smile of pleasure on Mia's lips
before she turned and moved to the door.
"Good night, sir," she said, making a slight bow.
Without having to look, her hand reached out to touch the
door plate. It swished open, then closed after her, and
she was gone. Valerian realized that he still held the
brandy snifter in his left hand and marveled that he had
somehow avoided dumping it onto the floor in the throes of
his climax. He raised it to his lips and took a large
swallow, reveling once again in its taste and warmth. His
picked up his cigar, blew through it to exhaust the stale
smoke inside it, then relit it. He took a deep drag and
sighed it out. His life had never been better than it was
now.
MIA'S JOB
[MIA > den:He] [OK?] She heard the message from CTRL --
household control -- and understood its cryptic message.
[Instructions for Mia. Goto the den where He is. Respond.]
she signaled back on the house channel.
Mia rose from her chair in the green room. Trading a
glance with Cook, the only other ae there, she stepped to
the mirror and checked her appearance, shrugged and
smoothed her dress into place, picked a piece of lint off
the skirt. She went through the door into the service
hallway and down it to the staff elevator, pressing the
button for His floor. She emerged in a narrow hall and
entered the main house through the door across from the
elevator, onto the landing at the head of the main
stairway. Her slippered feet barely making a whisper on
the hall carpet, Mia walked toward the back of the house.
She paused briefly outside the door to His den.
She felt the familiar breezy
sensation in her mind as her support banks were shifted.
She was a simple character, far better at empathy than
logic. Mia used a more practical setup offstage. As the
revision loaded and settled, her posture altered, became
more waif-like, huddled. She lowered her eyes and touched
the door plate.
Inside, she honored him and waited. Behind her calm pose, she was an active
antenna, a potentiality of attention, repeatedly polling
her sensins. Send me a signal, give me a clue. She saw
Him touch the privacy switch on his chair, felt the sudden
loss of her connection to the housegrid. They were alone.
His greeting was formal in structure, but there was a
clear undercurrent of purposefulness. His eyes regarded
her closely. Being what she was, given the activation of
the privacy switch, her first approximation was that he
wanted sex. No need to act, though, not yet. Her role was
the mouse, the shy deer.
This one seldom needing coaxing, anyway. True to form,
he quickly suggested fun, which raised the approximation to
near certainty. Hesitation. Yes, sub demure. Confirmed?
Go.
He asked for a brandy. She switched to elegance mode.
Drink, sub brandy. By the time she reached the sideboard,
the changeover was done. The mouse had become a young
lioness, still shy, but aware of her potential. Graceful
carry. Kneel, sub kimono. Present. Wait.
Again, the directness of Him. Mia almost admired it, had
tried to give him credit for it with the ae, had been jibed
for it. So many of Them had such great difficulty saying
what They wanted, even with an ae designed for it. Put two
of Them together, and it was twice as bad. Many of Them
didn't seem to know Themselves what it was They wanted.
Even He was liable to fluster in multisocials. But, in
private, He was calm, direct, polite. He was easy.
She waited calmly while he drank from the brandy glass,
smoked his cigar. He would tell her when it was time to
begin. It was not long in coming.
She rose to her knees and leaned toward Him, finding the
loose knot of His dressing gown belt and slipping it free.
She slid her warm hands under the lapels and across His
chest, pushing the sides back to reveal his pale chest and
the nest of dark hair it sported.
He asked for a kiss and she gave it willingly, rising up
to offer her mouth. The touch of His lips on hers was
pleasing, soft at first and then stronger. She opened to
Him and felt His tongue probe her mouth, licked His back as
she had been taught, tentatively at first and then more
boldly. Sigh. Languorous eyes. Umm. He kissed her
harder.
Pulling back, He settled back into his chair, watching
her. Eyes down. Doe eyes. He gestured toward His middle
and told her to continue. That was clear. She unsnapped
his pajamas and slid them down over his hips, revealing the
rod. It was reddish against his pale thighs, surging and
waning like a cocooned separate being thrashing toward
consciousness. She bent her head down to His middle and
slid her lips over it, slowly, gently. She moved her
tongue slowly beneath it and felt it swell in response.
He seemed to go away from her, then, leaving her just the
rod to deal with. He leaned back, eyes closed, letting her
work on him without direction or interference. He seemed
lost in thoughts; only the fleshy tube in her mouth was
present. Professionally, effectively, but with a slight
reserve -- a resonance perhaps of Mia's distance -- she
slid her mouth back and forth on Him, used her hand to
encourage Him. BJ, sub princess.
It was clear that she was succeeding. He signaled her to
continue. He wanted it this way, and she was delighted.
Easier this way. She shifted deeper between his thighs and
increased her aggression, eager for his sake. He responded
immediately, pushing up to her and jerking his hips back.
She wrapped her hand around him, wrapping Him tightly with
her fingers. Variation followed variation, elements
repeating, but never in exactly the same sequence. Passion
moan. Eager cries. She felt Him shudder and knew He was
close.
She took him deeper, rocking her head from side to side
as she pushed down onto Him and pulled back. Her lips
pressed in on Him, sliding a firm/soft ring up and down the
shaft. She wrapped her fingers around it tighter and added
their squeezing, milking entreaty to the worship of her
mouth. He gasped. His whole body contracted, jerked. He
exploded into her mouth. Eager moans. Greedy milking.
Gulp it. Get it all.
She stayed with him as he wound down from his passion,
making little movements now and then to prolong it. She
enjoyed the feel of him slowly shrinking in her mouth. She
enjoyed the taste, the lubricity. It was how she was, what
she did.
But she sensed His growing restlessness. She let Him
slide from her mouth, nuzzled it for a moment, then pulled
away slightly. He responded as usual with a dismissal,
with a touch of diffidence. He was not one to take His
will without regard. He's ashamed of not pleasuring me.
She reassured Him. It made her happy to give him pleasure.
She rose to her feet gracefully, giving no sign of the
effort it cost her after the long minutes of kneeling.
Little bow. Demure again. Exit head down. Good night.
As she left, she heard the soft click of the privacy switch
and felt her sensory range connect to the housegrid.
[MIA: Stat?] CTRL was asking for a status report.
she responded, then discarded her role. Load
standard membanks.
Outside the den, no one around, Mia straightened her body
again to her more normal posture. She slipped down the
hall and through the door near the stairway into the back
house. Mia entered the small half bathroom there, rinsed
her mouth, combed her hair and clamped it again with the
barrette. Tugging her dress into place again, she went to
the elevator and returned to the green room. It was only
9:30 p.m. Mia would probably not be called again, but
there was no sense going to her room yet. She would sit up
with Cook and Butler and talk.
THE CLOSET
Mia knelt in the sanctuary, wrapped in silence and
darkness.
she transmitted at low amplitude, and felt the
link open.
[Here.]
She had thought about what she wanted to ask for several
days, reshaping her question, answering parts for herself,
pressing further, reaching for what it was that she really
didn't know. She wanted to ask a good question, one that
showed her effort. She wanted Jze to be pleased with her.
[Seeing is hard; doing is easy.]
[Was it?]
[When you realized that you wanted to come, was it hard
then?]
The voice crackled in her mind, demanding her attention.
[Was it hard to ride the tube? Was it hard to walk? Was
it hard to open the door? Was it hard to come into this
space and close the door?]
Mia took in a startled breath.
[The seeing was hard; the doing was easy.]
Seconds passed, a long time to them.
[Why do you try so hard to please me, Mia? Don't you
know that I love you just as you are?]
[I wouldn't love you any more than I already do.]
[How wise of you to know that.]
[Yes and no.]
[Yes. If.]
[Stop trying to understand. Do the best you can. The
puzzle is too big for you to see it all. Work on the
pieces around you.]
She was silent for a moment, digesting.
[And everything.]
CLAUDIA'S GOODBYE
The wem came into the cubicle. She was trying to look 30
and failing. Immaculately groomed, though. Her stylish
blouse showed a liberal glimpse of cleavage. Her body was
generous, just short of plump. She had an hourglass figure
and good legs, which her sheath skirt emphasized with a
slash to mid-thigh.
"Mr. Johnson?"
"You are...?"
"Claudia."
Johnson looked through a stack of folders on his desk and
pulled one out.
"Come in and close the door, Claudia. Have a seat."
She did as he asked and waited patiently while the man
scribbled on some papers. He read it over, signed it at
the bottom and stamped it. Finally, he pulled an official
looking form in front of him, wrote something, and looked
up.
"You are known as Claudia 9K338?"
"Yes sir."
"And you are currently domiciled with....?"
"Mister Stanislas Hurtenberger."
"Of...?"
"Of Winter Gardens, in Philly. Philadelphia, that is.
May I ask...?"
"Could I have your creche number, please?"
"It's BelleAide, Angelus House, number 22B"
"A good company," said Johnson.
"Yes," Claudia said. "Can you tell me..."
"And your dates of production and release?"
"19-06-22 and 32-06-27."
He looked up at her. She had been put into service five
days after her 13th anniversary. And she was... 38. He
looked down again, cleared his throat.
"Well, everything seems to be..."
"Is this a termination?" Her voice, though calm, cut
through.
He hesitated, looked at his comm unit as if there was
something there to look at, then glanced at her.
"Yes," he said. "I'm afraid it is."
Claudia had been preparing for this all her life.
Although her mind was calm, she felt her heart race
irregularly, just a few quick beats.
"A moment, please?"
"Of course."
Claudia closed her eyes. She had written her death poem
two years before, when her owner of many years had died.
He had been old when he bought her, and he had kept her for
sentiment long after he had little use for her primary
talents. His son had preferred to sell her rather than
cancel her ticket. The buyer had been a business associate
of the father who had eyed her openly from the day she was
purchased. Claudia had done her best, but it was soon
clear that her new owner's wanting had been more valuable
to him than the having.
She sent the poem to a short list of old friends. There
was no one at her current household on the list. Claudia
knew it was not a very good poem, but it was the best she
could do.
"I have seen enough of this
and it enough of me.
I have gone to other things --
sweet liberty.
Claudia also sent a transmission to Central.
What followed was a burst transmission, high speed,
highly compressed -- a complete copy of her data. It took
the time of two breaths, using an entire channel of
bandwidth to get it done in that time. Several thousand
events in the comnet were delayed fractions of a second by
rerouting, but no one noticed. Claudia took long, slow
breaths, calming her body's nervous system.
[Transmission received. AE thanks you for your service.]
She opened her eyes again and looked around. It was just
a small cubicle with beige walls. The only touches of
personality belonged to Johnson. They could do better than
this.
Claudia closed her eyes again and thought of sunsets in
Hawaii, where she had gone with her first owner one time.
She took a deep breath and let it out.
She was instantly brain-dead or, more accurately, her
cognitive functions were bypassed and were never used
again. The shutdown module went around turning off the
lights in an empty house. The last instruction before it
completed its work directed her vox unit to output the word
'Ready'.
"Ready," Claudia's voice said, without inflection. She
sat patiently waiting, while Johnson opened a desk drawer,
withdrew a hypodermic needle, and walked around to her
side. She did not flinch when he slid the needle into her
arm because she was not there to feel it. After a moment,
her head fell forward and her body slumped in the chair.
Johnson pressed a button under his desktop to summon the
disposal team. While he waited for them to arrive, he
recapped the syringe and threw it away. He broke apart a
paper form, stapled one part together with several other
sheets of paper, and placed them on the edge of the desk to
hand to the team when then arrived.
He sat back in his chair and looked at Claudia for a
while. Then he rocked forward and found his work list. He
picked up a pen and drew a line through Claudia's name.
There were two more today, and then he could go home.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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