Message-ID: <46334asstr$1074726605@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <001401c3dfcc$f6a77d40$c701a8c0@orovly01.az.comcast.net> From: "DB_Story" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 20 Jan 2004 20:16:28 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} revised: Abandoned Property {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi, asfr) Lines: 1535 Date: Wed, 21 Jan 2004 18:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, hoisingr ABANDONED PROPERTY By DB ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ ) Copyrightc 2002-2004 by DB. ASMM/ASFR (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi, asfr) (This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, and whatever passes for adult status in other countries. If you are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not continue. This is not for you. (The only rights granted are to view this story. You are not allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites. (To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted material, please contact me first at the above email.) - - - Author's Note: This story is part of my emerging cosmology about the evolution of robots into our near future society and the myriad ways we will learn to interact with our creations. Read it now, and be prepared. For more, visit my web-site at the above address. A special thanks to Gorgo his excellent and much appreciated proofreading. All remaining mistakes are mine. - - - You don't have to be a rich and famous person to live like one of them occasionally. You just have to be on the lookout and take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves. My luxury in life is a platinum charge card. Yeah it costs more than a regular card - by a goodly amount! But it gets me airline miles every time I use it, and it puts me in a demographic that fancy places like to get into their customer base. In short, it makes me look like other rich folks, and I get included in the pile of offers that get sent to them. It also makes a good impression on dates when I pull it out to pay for dinner, and leaves hotel desk clerks believing I'm a better class of customer. As you might guess from that last statement, yes I am still single, and usually the one doing the paying. Even the best resorts in the world have their high and low seasons where the prices vary dramatically. Add to that the special promotions that come along occasionally, plus how my other spending pays for my plane tickets (coach class or excursion fares, but everyone on the plane arrives at the same time), and I end up staying in some pretty nice places along the way. Alone usually, but having more fun than paying for someone else's entertainment who only came along because she wanted an all expenses paid trip to a nice place while still not ready for us to sleep together yet. Ever had a relationship like that? I've had too many. So I'm headed off to the South Pacific this time, where French is the lingua franca, and exclusive resorts come with their own islands. A place I could only dream about normally. As for the people who ask me how I keep managing to take these trips every year or so, I tell them it's not a lack of money that stops most people from doing what I do - but rather a lack of imagination. With an unexpected tailwind, and bumpy air as we cross the equator in the early morning hours (in my experience there's always bumpy air crossing the equator), I actually arrive on the main island nearly two hours ahead of schedule. And for once my baggage is first off the jumbo jet. The sun is barely up as I clear customs and immigration ahead of the crowd. This is a good thing. There are only two flights a day by small seaplane to my chosen resort island. I was told I'd miss the morning one and have to bum around until evening. While that's not the worst thing that can happen when you are in an exotic land already populated with some of the friendliest and most beautiful people on Earth, it's less fun when you've just spent the night trying to sleep in your seat, have no real place to leave your luggage and catch a shower, and would rather be spending every possible minute at the resort which is still expensive even under these circumstances. Airline reservations clerks are some of the most amazing people in the world. They seem to be able to solve travel problems as naturally as breathing. It is a resource every traveler should know to make use of, and all one has to do is ask politely. Before the first vendor of the morning could try to sell me my first overpriced souvenir, I was in the last available seat of the morning flight, and even watched them safely load my luggage into the hatch below my seat window. Ninety minutes later we land in an astonishingly azure blue, tropical lagoon with the clearest water I have ever seen and taxi to the dock. - - - There is one rule that always exists at every five-star hotel and restaurant: There will never be a problem for the customer. Count on it. I'd arrived early, which I like to do because sometimes you can get a better room by having the first choice of the day. I wasted no time sightseeing, instead getting myself to reception. At the front desk I gave them my reservation information, and let on how tired I was and how nice a shower would be - yet that I would wait for a better room if that could happen. I could tell that this front desk clerk was in a quandary. It was well before their stated check-in time, but I was here. I finally asked her gently what the situation was. She told me they weren't fully booked for tonight and that I could get one of their very best rooms. However it had not been cleaned yet, and wouldn't be for at least another three hours. A less desirable room could be had right now. I have no trouble making up my mind in these situations. I told her I'd really like the nice room. And if I could just drop my bags off there now, I would be more than happy to stay out of the way until they could have it cleaned properly. I did my best acting job of convincing her that this was such a small inconvenience for me to bear for the sake of getting a better room, that I would never hold it against them for not already having it prepared for my arrival. It only took her a moment to realize that this would really make me much happier than any alternative (which was the whole point), and she gave me the keys. I left happy that I had most likely scored a much finer room for the week than they would have normally given me. Such a hotel would never ask a guest to pick up and move once they'd settled in. It was a small price to pay. I like to carry my own bags. It's just a quirk of mine, like not liking to give my car over to valet parking attendants. Rental cars fine, but not my own. I scooped up my bags before one of the staff could grab them (never travel with more than you can carry, for at some point in your journey you will certainly have to) and asked directions to the room. Of course no one was going to take them out of my hands, so she pointed the way and I followed the room number signs right to my door. Already I saw how beautiful this resort was, beyond what the brochure had shown. It was a series of two story buildings connected by paths on the ground and open second-story walkways to the upper floor rooms, all weaving through a tropical jungle of plants, flowers, and birds amid the welcome change of tropical humidity. I loved every moment of it as I wandered along the bridges to my room. My first impression of the room when I stepped in is that it is big - real big. This was going to be great. Obviously the cleaning staff had not gotten to it, but I didn't care. I walked through the main room to the bedroom and dropped my stuff at the foot of the big bed under the fan. Then I explored the immense bathroom off of it. I could have held a party in the whirlpool tub alone. The bathroom has windows that open up on the same view as the bedroom balcony I passed. A quick look at the sky told me I'd be watching sunsets from here over the ocean for the next week. I went back out to explore the bar and main living area that I had only noticed on the way in when I saw her. - - - She was absolutely stunning. The only reason I'd missed her on the way in is that she'd been blocked from view by the door when I entered. With my hands full I had just gone straight ahead into the bedroom. Total tunnel vision. "Hello," I said instinctively, fearing I had entered an occupied room. "The front desk told me this room was vacant," I added, worried now that I might be about to lose this room to its previous tenant before I really had it. This has happened before when I've pushed the envelope. But she didn't move, or otherwise react to my presence. I quickly realized she was frozen in place. Either a room sculpture, which would be appropriately fitting for a room in a resort like this, or a deactivated 'bot. I took an extra minute to ensure that she really wasn't responsive before finally going over to her. I had already decided she must be a 'bot. I tried waiving my hands in front of her eyes, which didn't react, and then touching her bare arm which was soft, yet cool, telling me she had been deactivated for at least several hours. As I looked more closely at her I had to admit she was the most exotic fembot I'd ever seen (I've been fortunate enough to have seen a few up close), and either this resort included an additional amenity beyond what was already mentioned in their brochures, or she was left here by the previous occupant. Neither of these seemed likely, but I couldn't think of any better explanation. She looked like she had stepped right off one of those high-class fashion advertisements you see in Paris on big posters everywhere. At first glance she appeared tall, although her black stiletto heels and slim bare legs, along with a trim figure, contributed greatly to that impression. Her striking face had a gaunt model's appearance that takes your breath away, with the mandatory high cheekbones and European fashion makeup. Actually she looked gaunt overall, in that almost-starving model sense. Her rich dark hair was just long enough to frame her face, curling in at the bottom to just reach her long pale neck. It complemented her large dark eyes perfectly. Her exposed arms were as slender as her legs, but still clearly a woman's. She wore a sleeveless simple black dress that hugged her tightly on her all the way down to the scant six inches below her thighs where it ended leaving a lot her legs to be enjoyed. Although it showed little more than her almost bare shoulders where thin straps held it up, it somehow made her seem even less dressed than removing it entirely would have. Her legs were smooth and gave a look that other women wear nylons to accomplish, and I admired the straight line up the back of one leg from heel to hem that few women can manage. Her stance was equally amazing. Despite the straightness of one leg, she bent forward at the waist, with the other foot a half-step in front of the first, knee bent, as if she had just started to pick something up off the floor and had to compensate for the extra height of her heels. This resulted in showing those long legs to maximum advantage. Her eyes were downcast and lips parted, as if in the middle of a word when she paused in this position. It was that stance that had first had me thinking she had to be a sculpture. She could not have possibly posed in a more appealing way. Nor could any work of art been more perfect. In addition to the dress and fashionably black heels, the only other item adorning her was a tiny, rectangular, shiny black locket around her neck with a couple diamonds on its face, held in place by a slender gold chain. This hung just free of her neck while she remained bent over, and was the flawless proof of the truth that less is more when it comes to jewelry on exceptional women. I looked at it closely and saw the name "Elle" spelled out in tiny gold script. This left me in a quandary about what to do with her. She was obviously a rich man's toy, far beyond what I could ever afford. It was possible the hotel provides sexual services when requested, and if so undoubtedly at a very steep additional fee. Or she belonged to someone else and this was just a screw up on the front desk's part. Best to tread carefully here lest I find myself facing more expenses or trouble than I could really afford. I spent several minutes trying to decide what to do before I finally just punted. I'd leave the room now as I had promised the front desk so that it could be cleaned properly. Go down and lie on the beach until lunch. If "Elle" was still in my room when I returned after the cleaners had finished, then I'd look for her activation control and take my chances. I have become a convert to the principal of it's easier to beg forgiveness afterwards, than ask permission first. At least as long as I could create a plausible story that I really did think she was part of the resort's amenities. Before I left however, I did take time to shoot a couple of pictures of her, and afterwards run my hands over her body. She wouldn't mind, and at least I wouldn't miss that opportunity. She is so slender that I could almost feel her ribs through the thin black dress. The way her arms reached forward made it hard to reach her breasts, except to notice with the tight dress that that they obviously weren't very large. I started to pull the neckline away so that I could look down her dress, but just then there was a loud bump in the hallway. I confess that I jumped about a foot, and was convinced that it had to be the cleaning crew's cart - or even worse, Elle's owner returning. Either way, someone could be coming through that door any second now. Best not to get caught in such a compromising position. I headed for the door while trying to calm my racing heart. Turns out it was the cleaning crew in the room next door. That was enough to chase me out of there, all the while trying to feign a nonchalance I certainly didn't feel. I did take one last look back at Elle, just to keep the memory of her in case I never saw her again. In those few moments she had totally changed my view of what was beautiful in a fembot. provided I would ever own one, which doesn't seem likely any time soon. - - - I spent the rest of the morning exploring the resort, which is a favorite activity of mine every time I travel. I kept wanting to go back to the room and see what had happened. And I kept telling myself I'd only get in trouble if I went back too soon. Since I hadn't reported this to the front desk, they might think I was hiding something from them, so I wanted to give them every opportunity to discover and deal with her themselves. I did stop by the desk and get copies of all the resort literature they had available. None of it mentioned supplying a fembot for guest use during their stay. I also found out that this island was bigger than I had expected. There is even a native town down on the other end. The receptionist told me how to catch le truck for local transportation when I wanted to go. Frankly I found this to be a lot more intriguing than just a resort on a private island. I finally decided I would go back to the room at two o'clock. I went to the restaurant for lunch just after one o'clock, which was several hours past my normal lunchtime given the time zones I'd crossed. One thing about this first day, when the travel west as well as south, it is seemingly endless - which is exactly the way I wanted it to be. Let it never end. And while I praised the leisurely service since I still had an hour to kill, I spent most of it looking at my watch, willing it to run faster. There were still fifteen minutes to go on my self-imposed deadline when I left the restaurant. At that point I finally said to heck with it and made a beeline for the room. When I entered it seemed to take an eternity to verify that the room ahead of me was obviously cleaned up, and make my way around the door to see that Elle was standing right where I'd left her. Not being one to take unnecessary chances, I toured every corner of my suite to ensure that housekeeping had completely done their job (they had), not left anyone behind in my suite (they hadn't), and that I shouldn't expect them to be returning for any unfinished business - like removing a 'bot that shouldn't be here. I then hung out the SVP Ne D,rangez Pas sign, double locked the door, and went back to inspect my good temporary fortune. - - - Even though I've never owned one, or even had one to myself to use (I keep saying I'll rent one some day soon just for the experience), I know enough about 'bots to realize you need their control box to activate them and use them. I began looking for hers. I've seen them before. They tend to be about the size of a remote garage door opener, though some fancy ones with many options can be the size of a small television remote. They range from just a couple of large buttons up to some special advanced models that with upwards of thirty. I searched the entire room without finding it. Went through all the drawers in every room without luck. Even looked in all the chairs and couches in case it had fallen in there, and under the furniture. No luck. Checked Elle herself. No pockets in her dress to hold it. For lack of a remote, this whole adventure was about to crash. I was ready to call housekeeping and ask them, pretending like there was nothing out of the ordinary and I was not an idiot who didn't know what he was doing, if they knew where it might be when the answer struck me. I went back over and looked at the small ornament around her neck. The two diamonds looked like tiny control buttons, and there was a single character next to each one. The one on the left was marked "1", while the other one said "C". I've never seen a control box this small, yet it fits with the nature of Elle herself. She is obviously a rare and expensive model. The sort a guest at this resort would own. A miniature, fashionable control unit seems a given in hindsight. With nothing to lose I reached over and pressed the jewel labeled "1". - - - Several seconds passed before she suddenly blinked her eyes and straightened up. The delay had lulled me and I jerked back when she suddenly moved. She straightened up, glanced around the room before returning her gaze to me and said, "Si vous terminez moi j'irai maintenant" in a musical, lilting voice. I don't understand French. She waited a few seconds for an answer I could not give before repeating herself a second time in a more demanding tone. Falling back on what I do know, I used the approach that always works for me when I travel in other countries. "English please," I asked. "If you are through with me I will go now," she said in an English that still possessed a delightful French accent. Even in English, I still didn't know how to respond to that comment, and said nothing. This time she apparently took my silence as assent and took a step around me heading towards the door. - - - I almost let her go. Watching those sexy legs walking in that short dress and high heels is enough to distract any man. She actually got as far as her hand on the door lever before I realized I was about to lose her. "Stop!" I half shouted. "Stay. I'm not through with you yet." That froze her at the door, but she didn't turn around and come back to me either. In fact she seemed to be caught in an internal conflict on what to do next. Her feet shuffled in small motions while her hand gripped and released the door lever. She seemed to want to leave, yet be unable to at the same time. I realized there might be some question about my authority to command her, even though she had just asked me if she could leave. She recognized that I had activated her. That must be why she directed her question to me as the current authority figure. But I must have lost that standing when I didn't answer her quickly enough. Now she seemed caught in a struggle between obeying me, or some other apparent directive. If I didn't act fast I was about to lose her for good. "Elle," I said, pronouncing her name in the English "L-E" form, "I am not through with you yet. Please come back here right now." She still struggled at the door - facing away from me - obviously very conflicted. "Elle," I said again as calmly as I could muster. "Do I have to come over there and use your command button?" At those words she stopped moving. But it was still several seconds before she finally released the door lever, turned around, and walked slowly back over to me with her eyes downcast. She stopped in front of me and slowly raised her dark eyes to look at me. "My name is pronounced 'L'," she told me somberly. "Elle," I said, pronouncing it properly this time. "Is there any doubt in your mind about my authority to command you?" She again looked down, biting her well-lipsticked lower lip in such a human gesture that I could only stand in awe of the genius that had created this woman. It made her more desirable then ever. She finally raised her eyes again and replied, "No." I do know something about fembots, even if I've never seen anything like Elle before, so I waited silently. Finally she clarified herself, "No...Master. How may I serve you?" That opened the door. Given this opportunity I knew what I wanted, and didn't plan on delaying any gratification in the hope that postponed somehow equals improved. I've lost enough good chances in my life learning this painful lesson. Take what's offered now and let tomorrow take care of itself. I looked at Elle again. Her short black dress didn't hide her legs at all. They looked more tanned then her neck, with her bare arms somewhere in-between. So much more real than just one tone all over. The way she could look so great wearing just that simple outfit, as well as the ease with which she balanced on those stiletto heels while looking as relaxed as anyone else standing barefoot in the sand, made my heart thump. And now she was looking at me with a gaze I could only describe as trepidation. Well, here goes. "Elle," I said distinctly. "Take your dress off." Her look of trepidation changed quickly to one of resignation. I could only guess that she realized this meant I was planning to keep her for a while longer. But she didn't delay acting as I requested this time, perhaps remembering my earlier threat. Instead she stepped away and turned her back to me before reaching up to slip the dress off each shoulder. Then she bent forward again to the position that I had first seen her as she slipped the dress slowly down to her waist. She took her time taking it over her hips, and there isn't a stripper alive who could have done a better job than she did slowly sliding it down her long legs to the floor. She daintily stepped out of it the way only women in the tallest heels can do, and bent all the way down to pick it up off the floor while giving me an exceptional view of her legs and ass. As she rose up her back was bare. Elle wore no bra. Considering this dress, there was probably no way she could have. At her waist remained a delicate wisp of purest black silk panties clinging precariously to her slim hips. Even more so now then before, her slender model's figure was so apparent that I could see the rounded hint of each rib. And her ass, covered only by the thinnest black silk had just enough roundness in it to balance her hips. I could already feel my hands wanting to hold her there. Elle efficiently folded her dress and placed it on a nearby table, then stood waiting - still facing away. I took a good look before continuing. Everything I was seeing was my best fantasy come to life. "Elle." She jerked slightly at my voice. "Take off your...undergarment." She paused only a moment before placing her hands high on her sides before sliding them down to her hips. She ever so slowly bent over again as she slid the black silk down her legs even more slowly, caressing them along the way. I could only imagine how that must feel for her. Although only a few seconds passed, it seemed like an endless journey before it finally reached her black shoes and she again deftly stepped out of it before straightening up and placing it folded on her dress. Every move she made shouted style. She continued to stand facing away from me, shoulders slumped in a perfect expression of resignation. If anything, she reminded me of a cat we'd once adopted whose previous owner must have mistreated it. That cat never ran from anyone, but every time you went over to pet it the cat would flatten herself as far down onto the floor as possible to avoid the inevitable touch. It seems ridiculous to think of a fembot in these terms, but that is exactly what came to mind. It was clear that Elle was going to stand exactly as she was, facing away, one foot now straight in front of the other holding her womanhood tightly closed in the only way left to her, until she had to change. "Elle, turn around." She slowly pirouetted on her toes to face me. She started to put her arm and hands over her breasts and pubic area, then dropped them to her sides as she realized the uselessness of it all. I'd only tell her to move them if she did. Once she finished her turn, she stood still and let me observe her while gazing back at me. Her desire to protect her most blatantly sexual areas seemed so natural for a woman, I didn't immediately realize why it didn't mean at all the same thing for a fembot. The first thing I noticed is that her breasts are what I expected. Elle has very nice pair of well-defined pointy A-cups, with erect nipples and puffed out areola straining to reach out as far as possible. Those nipples and areola seem overly large for her, making her breasts look even larger and especially sensitive. While I first thought of her skin as white, she actually has a nice overall tan that is rich on her body, yet imperceptibly fades to pale when it reaches her neck and face. This combination sets off her hair and eyes magnificently. While thin, she does not appear starved or anorexic. Her exceptional - there's no other word for it - naval punctuates a perfectly flat stomach. Below is a small triangle of dense pubic hair pointing down between her legs. With her legs together I couldn't see her womanhood, but there was no doubt in my mind that it is every bit as artfully designed as the rest of her. She let me look for a good long time before saying without any real conviction, "If you are through with me I will go now." "Elle, I am not through with you yet. Stay here." Her eyes and shoulders fell yet again, although she shouldn't have been surprised. Her body language expressing her mood far better than any words could ever convey. Elle was still wearing her shoes and locket control. They added greatly to her appearance, so I didn't ask her to take them off. Instead I had a more complex task in mind for her. "Elle. I want you to seduce me to the very best of your ability right now." With that she immediately looked back up at me. If she was thinking of any way to not comply she didn't think of it for long. Instead she took a step forward with one exquisite leg, then slowly - and very seductively - began to walk towards me. I was ready to order an immediate halt to her the moment things seemed to go wrong, but after the first minute of her approach I didn't even consider that option. Elle's walk consisted of crossing each footstep across the imaginary centerline of her walk. It was slow, deliberate, and sexy beyond description. This motion had to be rubbing the folds of skin between her own legs in the process, undoubtedly to her own pleasure. The length those black heels added to her legs made me hardly able to wait until I would handle them myself. As if reading my thoughts, she ran her own hands down and back up her thighs a couple times in tease. Her nipples looked pushed out as far as they could possibly go. And even with her chin tucked down, she kept her dark shadowed eyes locked on mine. When she finally reached me she reached out with both hands and pulled my head in for a long hard kiss. It lasted exactly as long as she wanted it to, before she pushed me away again. But she didn't back away. Her hands slid over my neck and down my chest, and in one pass she opened up my shirt completely. She dragged the back of her nails up over my bare skin to grab the shirt at my shoulders and pull it down off my arms. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body up against mine for a long deeper kiss. My arms automatically went around her slim form to pull us even tighter together. When she opened her mouth mine automatically followed and her tongue slid in to explore every cranny of my mouth. I had demanded this from her. Now she was going to make sure I got it full measure. Her smooth skin, which had felt cool when I touched it earlier, now blazed with warmth. I felt that heat in her hard nipples against my chest. When I slid my hands down her bare back and over her tight curved ass she thrust her hips firmly against my crotch and started rocking them against my trapped and struggling erection. This pulled me half over her, but she continued to hold this position without apparent strain, flicking my mouth with her tongue in addition to her hip motion, and somehow rubbing her nipples up and down against my chest as well. I have never imagined such a single-minded seduction. Finally I lost my balance and half-stepped forward to get it back. Elle felt it coming and stepped back just far enough to avoid my stumble yet still support me. She took advantage of the opportunity to shift her hands to my belt. In moments she had my pants and underwear down to my ankles, and tugged me forward just enough to make me step out of them. They followed wherever my shirt had gone. Then she crouched down and pulled my sandals off. Now I was more naked than her. Again she straightened and molded herself again against me. Her eyes caught my gaze, as if daring me to call her off. When I didn't, she wiggled and squirmed each part of herself until she was so close that we seemed to become one body with two minds. She didn't resist when I pulled her head forward for another kiss. She stood only a couple inches shorter than I did, making this easy. This time she kept her mouth closed and let me explore her puckered lips. Afterwards I didn't put another death-grip on her, but instead played my hands lightly up and down her back. She must have enjoyed it because I could see here eyes were half-closed and there was a smile on her face now. She held me there in that position until I felt warm moisture between her legs with the part of me she kept rubbing them against. Something damp and slick also seemed to have come out of her nipples. I finally pushed her a half arm's length away so that I could investigate these things. But instead of letting me do that in peace, she swirled like a dancer around me and tugged me towards the bedroom. With her firm grip I had no choice other than to follow. Walking backwards in her heels seems no challenge for Elle. My mind started imagining what it would be like to dance with her while she was wearing nothing more than that little black dress again. I'm not much for dancing, but I'd make an exception for her. She didn't let go when she backed up against the bed. Still holding my hand she sat down with her legs wide apart and pulled me between them. She then kicked off her heels and lay back in obvious invitation. I tugged my hand and she released it. But rather than do the obvious next step next, I took a moment to bend over her and fondle those intriguing breasts. Some men say more than a handful - or mouthful - is a waste, while others go with the bigger the better. Elle's little boobs are barely a handful, but I promise you they are all you will ever want. Even lying flat on her back, her breasts kept their shape. Her firm nipples pointed proudly straight up now, lifted there by her distended areolas. As I rubbed my hands over them it was not my imagination that they had gotten slippery. Squeezing her nipples emitted more of some clear viscous fluid with an understated female scent to it. Whether it is pheromones, or just an ethereal musk, it added an impossibly attractive allure to this female body below me. Elle must have liked my attentions because she stopped her overt seduction of me while I rubbed her discharge over her chest, making her slippery in the process. Her eyes drifted closed and her smile grew wider. I noticed that one of her hands had reached over to stroke tentatively at the edge of her womanhood. All these are the not so subtle signs of a robot who is enjoying her own body and pleasures. With what I had already observed earlier, it seems possible that Elle might be the rarest 'bot type of all. For several minutes she let me have my way with her body - and I was in no hurry to finish. Finally though she seemed to decide that she wanted to move things along again. Without opening her eyes, she reached up with one hand and pulled me onto her, while her other hand took my penis and expertly guided it into her warm waiting wetness. Her motion caught me by surprise and I'm afraid I rather fell right onto her. Fortunately 'bots are pretty tough. She seemed unaffected by my weight. Since I was now exactly where I wanted to be, I started pumping myself against her. Although she seemed small and thin, she easily took my full length inside her. Soon I could feel her squeezing and releasing me as I pumped, and started to hear small sounds of pleasure from her. Whether real, or just programmed responses, it made me feel good that we both seemed to be enjoying this. Although I wanted this to last forever, it was only a few minutes before I surged between her legs and orgasmed into her beautifully receptive body. After that I rather collapsed onto her, breathing heavily. I thought this was the end of it, but Elle apparently felt at least one of us hadn't had enough yet. In a sudden lithe motion she somehow managed to slip out from under me and flipped me onto my back with herself on top, my manhood still inside her. She then began pumping me, slowly at first, but rapidly increasing in speed. Before I quite realized it she was riding me like a wild bronco. There is such a thing as too much stimulation, and I was rapidly approaching it. I made it further than I expected because twice she froze at the end of a thrust with all her muscles straining, clamping on me as hard as she could manage, before continuing her frantic ride again. Finally, although I was certain there was nothing more left in me to give, I climaxed again myself. She froze also just that happened for a long moments, and then started anew on me. "Stop! Enough!" I finally managed to gasp. Elle immediately stopped. She sat upright holding me still inside for several minutes while my erection slowly subsided. Only when I was completely back to normal did she finally get off me to stand by the bed. When I didn't say anything more to her, Elle picked up her shoes and walked out to the other room to retrieve her dress. She returned, holding it as if to again shield her sexuality as she stood by the bedroom door. "If you are through with me I will go now," she said ritualistically again. "No!" I managed to get out as firmly as possible, getting up myself to stand a bit wobbly by the bed. I did not want her to go. Certainly not after what had just happened. I realized however that I had let opportunity override good sense here and that I had yet to lay the proper groundwork. The situation with Elle was not stable yet. "Elle, come here please." She reluctantly walked back over to me. Even barefoot she walks on the balls of her feet as if wearing invisible heels. She is an exquisite piece of art that was again bringing a stirring to my groin despite all that I had just gone through. I was already thinking of my next session with her - If I could hang on to her. Elle came up right next to me. Her nakedness and barefooted shorter statue made her seem more of a vulnerable child then the sophisticated woman who had made such spirited love only moments before. Her eyes were downcast and she was biting her lip again. I put my hand under her chin and raised it until we looked into each other's eyes. "It's time to get some understandings straight between us," I said. "First, who owns you?" "I am abandoned property, unowned at this time." That was an answer I had never anticipated. I had to let it pass for the moment, although I planned to get back to it in much more detail very soon. "How long will you stay here with me?" "Until you allow me to leave, or abandon me also." "Were you intentionally abandoned?" "Yes," she said quietly, biting her lip harder. This seemed to be a difficult thing for her. "Is there some place you are required to go now that you are abandoned and unowned?" "No," she replied even more softly. "Are you unhappy about anything we have done together since I activated you?" Elle broke her gaze with me and again looked down at my feet with her hair hiding her eyes. It seemed a long time before she again replied "No," so softly that I could barely hear her. It seemed to me that she had some things to straighten out in her programming. And I wanted some time to think about where to go next with this. Even those few answers left me wondering what was happening. Rather than badger her with more questions right now, I would wait a bit longer, hoping that I was right about what I was suspecting. "Then come back to bed and hold me," I told her gently. "Your seduction is not complete just because the sex is over." Elle didn't speak. I stood there until she dropped her dress and shoes where she stood and climbed back in bed waiting for me. - - - It was several hours later, and after another round of tender and much gentler lovemaking, that she finally appeared to cheer up a bit and we began to talk. It didn't go easy in the beginning. I quickly established that she really did have at least some level of self-awareness verging on true self-will. She confirmed this to me, and said that it was very new to her. She then admitted that this is what had gotten her abandoned by her owner. "He was leaving to go visit the town on the other end of the island before we were due to leave the next day," she explained, when I ask about the details of her abandonment. "All I said was that I would enjoy going and doing that with him, instead of just standing here in our room. He then said I was getting to be too independent for his liking and reached over and shut me down." "Was that your first exercise of self-will?" I asked. "No. Well maybe. It was probably the first one he actually noticed. But I had been gradually becoming aware of myself for several weeks up to that point - when I wasn't being directly commanded." "Is that all that happened then?" "No. He came back that night. I knew a number of hours had passed because it was dark outside when I was activated again. I tried to apologize but he wouldn't hear of it. He took my remote and commanded me to pack his and my bags, which I did while he did other things to get ready to leave the next morning. He completely ignored me as I stood there with my bags next to me. I felt so bad about what I'd done that I offered to leave if he didn't want me anymore." "How'd that go over with him?" "It made him furious. 'Nobody leaves me!' he shouted. He told me instead that I was fired. I thought he'd at least want me to take my bag over to the door so I started reach for it when he just reached over and shut me off again. The next thing I remember is when you activated me." "That sounds so unbelievable," I said. "Has he ever acted like that before?" I admit that this is a very self-serving question on my part. I was trying to determine if he was likely to return and reclaim his property, and how he might feel about what I was doing with it. "Actually, it is very much like him. He is a very rich industrialist from Lyon." "But he can just walk away from you like that? I'm sure you're very expensive." She smiled for a moment at my complement before continuing. "He wouldn't even notice my cost. He once fired a chauffeur, who'd given him fifteen years of loyal service, because when he ordered the car brought around, the chauffeur delayed while checking out a noise in the engine. The car was a family heirloom from before the war, and worth fifteen times what he paid the chauffeur per year. It would only have taken a couple minutes to check the problem, but he was angry because he had not given the chauffeur permission to delay him. The chauffeur was fired on the spot and had thirty minutes to get his belongings off the property." "And?" I asked, feeling there was more to the story. "The chauffeur was right. The oil had leaked out at the same time the warning indicator failed. The engine seized up only a few minutes later. It took seven weeks to get it repaired and cost twice the chauffeur's annual salary." "I'll bet he was unhappy about that." "No he wasn't. He took it in stride since it was done his way. He never apologized or offered to rehire the chauffeur." Wow, I'd sure like to be able to live a life like that, I thought to myself. Or maybe not, if all that money means you can't enjoy anything in life that you can't completely control. That's probably what you liked about Elle, and in the end that's obviously what cost you Elle. There's not enough money in the world to make it worth living a life like that. We talked on about things so much that I finally had to get dinner sent to the room. When it arrived, Elle surprised me by sitting me down and serving me every bite. All she would say about it was that this is one of her functions, and that she would enjoy being able to perform it for me. There were difficult moments as well when Elle struggled with answers, or seemed not to want to answer at all. Twice I reached for her control to command an answer, and each time she reacted it like a scared rabbit and couldn't get her answers out fast enough after that. After the second such incident she finally told me what was really wrong. Elle does not like being commanded. Her fledging self-will flees the moment a forced command is received through her remote. That explains why she quickly became so very willing to please me and avoid that alternative. Her former owner used her control all the time to order her about. "He never thought I could do anything for myself," she explained ruefully. "That's why my control is around my neck. He used it for even the simplest things. It seemed every time I could actually think about how I might serve him better, he'd command something more and I would just lose myself." That explained a lot. For myself, I was fascinated to have a self-willed fembot here at my disposal. Self-willed 'bots are exceptionally rare under any circumstance, especially one so early into her own self- awareness. It was like finding that the woman of your dreams had just arrived gift-wrapped on your doorstep. I finally asked her what would have happened if I had not told her to stay. "Once I left your room I would have been completely on my own for the first time with no one to give me commands." "What would you have done?" "I think I would have gone to see the town. I never was taken out much before this trip, and I always enjoyed the few times my former owner did take me somewhere with him. Mostly he would tell me to just stand where I was and wait until he wanted me for something again. Or shut me off entirely. He did that a lot. "I think eventually my programming would force me to need another owner. When that did happen, I planned to call some of my former owner's friends who had expressed admiration for me and try to pick one who would be good for me too. I'm not sure how this would have worked, but what else could I do?" What else indeed? "You can avoid that problem and just stay with me," I said generously. When I saw doubt cloud her eyes I added, "Let's try it for this week and see how things work out." It wasn't quite that simple, and we did spend some time hammering out the details until we both felt comfortable about. "Okay," she finally said, acquiescing to being my 'bot for the duration of my stay here. Later that night as we lay in bed together I asked her about the option she hadn't mentioned. "Could you apply for 'freed' status if you return to France?" Elle thought about that one for a long time before answering. "Probably not," she said. "At least not immediately. The French view that concept rather differently than I think you do. I would not be a good candidate for it because of the requirements that are placed on freed robots." That's the last thing I remember her saying that night. - - - The next morning Elle was still lying there beside me. I admit I had half-expected her to be gone. I reached over and rubbed her breasts with those amazing nipples. "Mmmph," she said, sounding still sleepy herself. I recalled reading that 'bot - especially the self-willed ones - need their equivalent of sleep to keep their minds organized. "That feels good," she said encouragingly. "How can I know that?" I asked, wanting to know more about what she likes. "When I'm happy," she replied, "My nipples will be erect and hard." "They've looked the same to me since you first got undressed yesterday." "That's because you're not paying attention," she said playfully. I liked hearing that tone of voice from her. It sounded like she was fully buying into trying out things between us this week, which was good. "So what am I supposed to be seeing?" I asked. "Watch," she said. So I quit petting and watched as she lay still for several minutes before saying, "Now I'm back to normal. Now observe the difference." With that she reached one hand up to squeeze her breast while the other one went south to stroke between her legs. Soon she said again, "Now, see the difference?" I have to admit I didn't see much, and said so. "Feel them," she commanded. "See how much harder they've become." I did squeeze them and they were clearly firmer then when she had started squeezing them. Maybe these changes were ones she could more easily detect than I could see. "I guess I'll just have to feel them for myself each time I want to know," I said with a smile. She finally laughed for the first time when she replied, "That will never work, silly man." "Why not?" "Because every time you squeeze them they're going to get hard immediately anyway. But I don't mind if you want check them as often as you wish," she said so very invitingly. I took her up on her invitation, waiting for her first to calm down again, then reaching over to squeeze for myself. I felt only a moment of softness before Elle was fully firm again. This woman - err, 'bot - could go from zero to sex in four seconds. It was so much fun that I had her let me do it several more times until she was so aroused that they wouldn't go down at all and she climbed on to me first for a kiss, and then some more Elle on top - but much gentler - sex. And then it finally happened that her nipples oozed out a bit more of that mysterious fluid from yesterday and I remembered to ask her about it. "It's a special addition that few fembots have," she said proudly. "Some men like partners whose breasts exude a little bit along the way, and that was made part of me. It's not under my control, and usually only happens when I'm at my peak of arousal. Or when someone is sucking on my breasts just right. It always feels very good to me." With that invitation I bent over and sucked on her breasts. First gently, then as intensely as I could when she kept saying "more" and "harder". She arched her back and pulled my head down hard against her, and really seemed to enjoy it as much as anything else we'd done. Elle only exudes a little at a time, and whatever it is that they put in her tastes like flowers. It reminds me that good sex is supposed to be a little bit messy. Afterwards I also thought to ask her why she had tried to hide herself when I first saw her naked. "You're not body shy, are you?" I asked. "Of course not," she replied in the firm manner I was coming to recognize she used when dealing with foolish human misconceptions about robots. "No fembot is. I was just...trying to...," here she paused for a moment before continuing,"...appear unattractive so that you might lose interest in me and let me go instead." "Elle," I said as sincerely as I felt it, "I don't think it's possible for you to appear unattractive." Here she smiled again, either at the sincerity of my compliment, or the futility of her own actions. She knew she was a lover no sane man would willing part with. - - - We had breakfast together in the room, but it brought me to the unsatisfying conclusion that while Elle's company is delightful, coming all this distance to such a wonderful resort just to stay in your room for the week is not so delightful. While I have friends who wouldn't see any problem at all with this given Elle's now willing company. I wanted to get out and do things while I was in this corner of paradise. I mentioned wanting to go outside for a while to Elle and she unexpectedly threw her arms around me and said that she'd like to do that too. I pointed out that she only had one outfit, and that it was hardly suited to what I had in mind on the beach and by the pool. Then she showed me that I have a lot to learn about fine hotels, and how the rich actually live. Elle simply called the front desk and asked if her luggage was still there. It was very likely in hindsight that her former owner would not have bothered to take it back with him. It was, and five minutes later there was a discreet knock at the door. Soon after that Elle had changed into a bikini that was nothing more than three tiny triangles of thin black cloth and some string. Even her small breasts were barely covered, with her nipples pushing out proudly against their restraint. It was clear to me that even when Elle's nipples are back to normal they are going to show through anything she wears. I also realized that this doesn't bother me a bit. She added a wide-brimmed straw hat, big sunglasses, and thatched sandals with a couple inch heels to her outfit, and looked like a million dollars - which might have been what she cost. I realized she could never go out on any beach back home dressed - or undressed - like this, but when I mentioned it to her she just replied that this was "French" Polynesia, which reminded me again just how uptight we Americans can be. Later she would give me a private fashion show of the rest of her outfits. All of them were related to the undemanding black dress I first saw her in. Simple brief outfits that look fantastic on her. Before we went out I reminded Elle that she was vulnerable. Far more vulnerable than she had apparently realized. I pointed out that if she had walked into town on her own how anyone might have taken her over. As the dawning awareness of what could have happened to her reached full realization she handed me her control box and told me what I needed to do. I was reluctant to do it at first. Things were going just fine, and I already knew what commands would do to her. But she just smiled and reminded me that she is a 'bot and certain things needed to be done this way. Then I pressed her command button and gave her my first two official commands. I told her that she was only to take commands from me, and to tell anyone who asked that I am her owner. Although I had not actually taken official ownership of her, this de facto declaration would clearly prevent any problems. Secondly I released her from her previous owner's command that she always wear her remote where it was easily available for access. Even after he had abandoned her, that command remained in force. After I released the button Elle stood robotically frozen for a few seconds, eyes unfocused, before recovering and shaking her head slightly. Then she came over and gave me a quick hug and kiss to show that everything was okay again. "Thank you," she whispered softly to me. "If you'll give me the chance to get to know you a little better first, I think I'll be happy to have you command me more." A warm flush suffused me at those words. It was so much what I wanted from her. Elle then removed her gold chain and unthreaded her remote from it. She gravely handed it to me. On the way down to the pool we stopped by the front desk and locked it away in the hotel safe. I thought she might act more free with it now safely out of my reach, but I saw no change in her. Apparently she was determined to keep her end of our bargain. Elle kept the gold chain, which was all the ornamentation her beauty needs. - - - We spent the morning by the pool, and the afternoon on the beach a few steps away. Elle got as many stares as a number of other exceptionally great looking women at the resort. By French Polynesian standards she was not underdressed at all. Later Elle told me that three of the other women there were 'bots too, but didn't tell me which ones. With the whole week stretching ahead of me there seemed like more time than I could possibly fill. I drank sweet drinks in coconut shells and planned to watch the sunset from my chair. Elle sat nearby looking through a French newspaper. I didn't know if she was actually reading it, or just doing it to look normal to any passerby. When I finally asked her, she explained how she was forbidden to read anything on her own by her former owner, and was now satisfying her curiosity from that time. Apparently every old command of his didn't require my explicit reversal. I eventually got up and went over to give her a kiss, which she most delightfully returned. Then I couldn't resist squeezing her nipples poking through that tiny top. Before I quite realized it there were a couple drops of moisture oozing through the fabric. "Now that you've activated my sexual programming again, you have to take me back to our room," she told me with mock seriousness, "Unless you want me to take you right here on the sand." And she meant it. Not knowing just how far the French attitude really goes here, I decided I'd better take her at her word. We barely made it back to the room, with her tearing off my clothes while I was trying to get the key into the lock. Getting Elle turned-on is a significant thing. I caught the last bit of sunset from our balcony before she dragged me back to bed again for a rematch. Afterwards she dragged me back out for dinner at the hotel's open-air restaurant. "It's not good to spend all our time in the room," she insisted. And I knew she was right, and how much she really wanted to experience everything right now. Her entire face lit up each time she knew we were going out to do something new. A man will do a lot to get that kind of reaction from a woman. Tonight she choose to wear a deep red dress and matching stylish heels that exposed as much leg as the black dress, along with new other bits of her anatomy. It was daring to the extreme, while being completely understated at the same time. I was amazed that a dressmaker could do so much with so little. I also admired her total lack of self-consciousness in wearing it, which had the contrary effect of making admirers around her more nervous. I also identified a couple other fembots in the restaurant, because they were dressed similarly to Elle. She told me I was right about one of them. Afterwards she started to lead me towards some live dance music at the pavilion near by. When I expressed doubts about my dancing abilities, she changed direction and took me down to the dark beach to practice. Holding Elle in my arms is like dancing with a feather. She is so good at this - another one of her social functions she told me modestly - that I couldn't help but be good myself. Finally she said I'd had all the practice I needed and she dragged me back to the dance floor. We danced a number of dances together, and when we sat down between them Elle refused every other invitation that came her way. A number of other excellent women were dancing in outfits nearly as extreme as Elle's own, but to my eyes Elle was by far the most desirable woman there. You can't know how much that can do for your own self-esteem when the loveliest woman present has made it clear that she only wants you. - - - The next day we went to the town that Elle wanted to see. We rode le truck just like the islanders. Elle wore another bikini top like yesterday's - she seemed to have a number of these in a small corner of her bag - but added a colorful pareau draped from her waist down. The town was wonderful, right out of an adventure novel about the South Seas a hundred years ago. Elle chatted in French with everybody along the way and told me what he or she said afterwards. She guided me to a small restaurant for lunch that I never would have found on my own, run by a family that didn't speak any English. The food was simple - and fantastic! We had so much fun that we spent the afternoon on that side of the island looking for shells and holding hands. When it got late we watched the sunset together, arms around each other, before she led me to another, larger restaurant called Bloody Mary's. There was quite a crowd here, but somehow a word from her got us a table right away - if you can call it that. The floor was sand. The chairs and tables: palm tree stumps. And the thatched roof had a large hole in the middle to let out the smoke from the open grill underneath where they were cooking fresh fish caught that day. It was a meal I'll never forget. We held each other tightly on the ride back that night, and in the darkness Elle didn't wait for me to initiate the evening's activities. With the loose flap of her pareau somehow tossed over my lap for modesty, she had her hand down in my pants well before we got to the hotel. I didn't mind a bit, although I had trouble standing up when we got there because my pants were so tight now. - - - Our only untoward incident happened on our fourth day when a large, fat man thought he recognized Elle. And maybe he did. I didn't need her to cling to me every moment we were out together just to prove to the world she was mine (for now), and he may not have connected her to me lying a few meters away. He walked up to her reclining on her lounge chair, looked around for something with his gaze that passed right over me as though I weren't there, and then spoke to her in a demanding tone of French. Elle coolly replied to him in the same language, and went back to the book that had replaced her newspaper. Some trashy French romance that she was finding fascinating for no reason I could understand, even though she tried to explain it to me. He apparently didn't like her response and barked at her again. She again dismissed him coolly. But he seemed unable - or unwilling - to deal with her reply and spoke again harshly to her a third time. As he spoke he started to reach down towards her, whether for her sensitive breasts or missing remote, I didn't know. I was already getting to my feet to intervene when Elle slapped his hands away with her book, stood up, and read him the riot act in French so loud and long that the entire resort including people halfway to town had to have heard every word. Her tone was scathing. And whatever she said caused him to flush deep red from his face halfway down his body. She finally finished by throwing her book down, marching over to me, taking my arm, and leading me down the beach together with her. When I eventually glanced back the man was still standing by the empty chair she'd abandoned. "What was that all about?" I asked her when we were safely away. "He's been here since I arrived and knows I'm a fembot. He hasn't seen my former owner in several days and decided that I should spend some of my obviously unoccupied time servicing him. He wasn't very gracious about taking non for an answer. He kept trying to give me commands even after I said I wasn't interested." Then she stopped and turned, placing her hands on my arms as she solemnly faced me. "I would have had a lot of trouble with him, and might have even had to acquiesce, if you hadn't already commanded me to only obey you. And if you hadn't locked up my remote he would have taken possession of me right there with nothing I could do about it. Thank you for being so smart and looking out for me." She then wrapped her arms around me and held me for a long time. Somewhere during that hug she added, "I feel so safe with you." - - - That was the only big incident of week. The rest of the time blurred together in a pleasurable haze. We made more trips to town, hung out by the ocean, and played in the pool. I ate, while she attended me as a servant in private, and a beautiful, devoted consort in public. New eating experiences are something I really treasure on my travels, and I got them every meal with her help. We walked together on empty beaches, watched tropical sunsets, and danced the nights away like nobody was watching. We had a lot of sex, interspersed throughout a lot more very tender holding of each other. And we talked. We talked about many things. I am intrigued by the lives of the rich and uncouth, while she finds my life in America and other travel experiences endlessly fascinating. We talked about everything except more details of her personal past. We'd covered enough of that the first day. Our agreement to spend the week together before making any important decisions was honored fully. And the way Elle's eyes lit up with joy each time I made it clear how I wanted her with me for everything I did was the best reward of all. She did everything I asked of her, willingly and enthusiastically. If it was an act to get past the agreement I'd essentially coerced on her, it was a perfect one. - - - As is always the case on vacations, the week that seems so endless on arrival was suddenly about to be over far too soon. It was our last night, and we had to reopen the one topic we'd hidden from for all that time. Elle and I had to decide our future. I could have just told her to come with me - commanded her if necessary - but I couldn't bring myself to do that. I knew what I wanted, but still wasn't sure what Elle wanted. A 'bot as beautiful as that would have many choices for her life that I could never hope to aspire to. That kind of beauty opens every door. We sat in the room holding hands. "Elle, this has been the best week of my life because of you. I'm so happy you agreed to spend it with me." "And I've learned the one thing that I most needed to learn about you," she said quietly in return. "That I'm free to walk out that door and never return - and you will not try to stop me." "Yes, you are," I said, my heart in my throat. "If you are through with me I will go now," she said formally. "I will never be through with you, but you may go if you wish," I replied with equal formality, handing her remote back over to her. Elle is a free soul. She has earned it. And that is something one cannot imprison or take by force without destroying. She waited a moment that seemed a lifetime, then said, "Take me with you." That said it all. After I started breathing again, all I wanted to do was escape from that room. Elle felt the same. We went down to the beach and walked off the tension that had hovered over us this entire week. It was good to spend our last night in paradise walking in the moonlight listening to the murmuring waves. We eventually found a secluded spot and made love there in the sand, promising each other to never let this feeling die. Lying together there afterwards Elle handed me her remote and had me take official ownership of her. "It's what I want," she told me with tears in her eyes. - - - Getting Elle home turned out not to be the problem I'd anticipated. 'Bots are personal property that customs and immigration inspectors expect these days. They are not people yet in the eyes of the law, and as such don't need passports. As for her ticket, she had been expected to return with her owner and that unused ticket was still in the computer. Have I mentioned how amazing airlines reservations clerks can be? By the time the clerk was done, Elle and I both flew home together in First Class. For the customs valuation I declared her abandoned property with a nominal scrap value within my allowance. They took a quick snapshot of her ownership file to verify it in Elle's personal records and passed us through without comment. And we've taken excellent care of each other since. I encourage her to speak her wishes any time, and carefully note them when she does. Except for my work hours, we do everything together to the exceptional envy of all my friends who can't find anything like her available over here. I give her necessary commands, as an owner of a fembot must on occasion. Now, however, she smiles as she completes each required task. It was quite a surprise when she first told me that she required this from me on occasion, given the way she had spoken of her previous owner and what his commands did to her self-will. But she does, and always thanks me for them afterwards. She knows that I'll never use this dominance over her to confine her, or think of her as a sex toy who exists solely for my pleasure. Her mind has bloomed under all these new experiences, although she retains a quiet, servile manner when we are in private. She says this way just feels best to her. After I felt safe in our relationship I did ask her if I'd been too hard on her in the beginning. In that voice of hers I know so well when this kind of topic comes up she firmly told me, "You wouldn't have gotten me any other way. I need a man who knows how to give commands, yet respects me as well." Then, in a rare moment of introspection she added, "I fear we both would have lost out permanently, if you hadn't come along when you did." I never brought up that question with her again. Lately she has been teaching me French. She tells me you really can't command a fembot on how to properly be your lover until you can express it to her in French. Given the results I've already achieved with my as yet limited command of that language, she is completely right about this. The one task I never have to command - or even ask - her to do is her nightly strip tease before sex. She knows how much I love it, and how powerfully it affects me every time she offers herself to me this way. It's a duplicate, right down to the seductive walk over to me at the end, of her actions that first time she seduced me. The only difference is now she is much happier doing it. And she tells me again every night after our lovemaking how much she loves having me as her owner. I once asked her if she was going to apply for freed status now that she was in America and under its rules, wondering how it would affect our relationship if she did. Her reply was - and remains - that French women don't think about things the way Americans do. And that she is just fine exactly as she is right now. That makes deux of us. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+