VirtualExile

yeah, we've got child rape equivalent in both,

now I don't feel so bad about the scene I wrote when Alex punished Matt to the full extent of their rule set, because what I wrote about was consensual,

September 4, 2059

Tate was on his way back from his first block of four 12-hour shifts working for Marco, helping Alessio to develop into his own adolescence as an organic personality in a cloned adult body.

He'd heard, of course, that android Luke had been summarily recalled by Marco's company, along with all the other sex androids of that experimental model.  Again, NOTHING EVER GOES AS TATE PLANS.  So Matt didn't spend four days and three nights at the mercy of Sir Luke as Tate had expected.  Yeah, beta testing.

On his way home he called Matt, he'd just been too busy and too tired to speak with Matt earlier in the week, although they'd texted a few times each day.  He's still too tired, but the car ride will take a while, may as well catch up with his boyfriend.  Matt sounded sad about Luke's recall, and about missing Tate.  Matt said tomorrow, after Tate was well rested, and after breakfast, he'd like to have a relationship status chat, because so much had happened recently.  Tate agreed, that would be a good idea.

Tate thought about how taking care of a brain-wiped adult body was much more physically demanding than taking care of a baby.  Babies don't weigh 180 pounds.  When babies make a mess of their breakfast, there's not as much breakfast to make a mess of, and babies cannot throw it as far.  Tate heard from others on the team how the worst will be when Alessio has learned to walk, they'll have to keep him securely locked within a special safety wing of the complex for a while.  But it was just the first week, Alessio was the equivalent of a one-month-old baby.  He'd develop at roughly 4x the rate of a gestational baby, although various development stages would occur either faster or slower than this 4x rate.

OK, Tate's going to nap for the rest of the car ride.  See you soon.

-----

This is what seat belts are for, as Tate's car wakes him with a hard slam on its brakes and a loud thump.  He hears the car automatically calling 911, and the sound of air bags deflating, having completed their job.  WTF.

He's fine, he thinks.  He's all in one piece.  Not bleeding as far as he can tell.  The car is warning him not to exit the vehicle, as there is high-speed traffic nearby, "Your safest place is to remain seated with your seat belts fastened."

But where's his phone?  Not sitting next to him anymore.  Ugh.  He can use the car's phone to call Matt, which he does.

Matt goes into panic mode, having barely lived through a car accident of his own, and says he and Alex are on their way in another car to pick him up, says the local rescue team should get there first.

"I'm fine," Tate assured him. "I might have bruises from where the seat belts grabbed me, but I'm fine."

-----

The car had hit a deer.  On their way back, Tate snuggled into Matt's side and they held hands.

Matt was more upset than Tate was, Tate was ready to resume his nap.  Tate felt like the car's safety systems had worked, he's OK, he's even more exhausted now.  But Matt's been triggered.

Matt suggested, "We should have your memories backed up every three months, just in case."

Tate thought he was too sleepy to make this decision, and replied, "Not everybody is as excited to keep all their memories as you are."  But then he thought of Ma, and yeah, maybe he should sign up for memory backups, if Matt is paying the bill.  Ma would be devastated if he didn't remember her anymore.  But he'd heard the backup process takes all day when you don't have brain implants.

-----

A quick nonsexual shower together at the house, where Tate got to feel Matt's bruised butt, a protein shake bedtime snack, then Tate wanted snuggles instead of foot rubs, so he fell asleep spooning with Matt while Matt continued to fume about what he considered "a close call, you could've died".  But he can't forbid Tate from ever leaving the house.  He wishes Tate had followed through with getting his vision fixed, the implants would have made it easier to backup his memories regularly.

Cars became steadily safer as AIs took over the driving task -- safer than human drivers ever were.  But shit still happens.  Human drivers are still legal, though most accidents involve human drivers.  And even an AI driver cannot avoid every obstacle while traveling at highway speeds.

A couple days ago, Matt had asked Alex whether they could back up Luke's memories before the company team showed up to retrieve him.  He'd worried that the connection he'd made with Luke would be completely erased by the recall fix, or that they'd send back a different unit.

"They already do continuous remote backups," Alex told him.

"But can't we do our own?  They might wipe him!"

"They'll probably just upgrade his software, while leaving his save files alone.  It depends on what the fix is." Alex had said while unlocking Matt's ankles from the sling.  "If they have to change how the save files are organized to fix the problem, then making our own backup won't help."

Matt had worried, already, about losing Luke, when Luke probably isn't even sentient, and now he was triggered about losing Tate.  Fucking cars!

Tate had intuited that Matt needed somebody who was around all the time, until he truly recovered from the trauma of that botched storage tank back in June, and getting Luke was a good idea for this purpose, but now we know Luke may not be around all the time either.

Yeah, we need a dog, Matt thought.  Well, I need a dog.  But with Tate they'd qualify for a trained service dog.  Maybe two dogs, a service dog and a puppy.  He thought about his conversation with Luke, when he'd sorta called Tate a 'sex puppy'.  Of course he won't have sex with the dogs!  But maybe Matt does need the combination of a sex android and a puppy.  A larger family.

Is this what he wants now, needs now, a family?  He's got Alex, his "Chief of Security", ex(?) boyfriend, and sort of all-around caretaker.  He's got Tate, his default bed partner, boyfriend, and Sir.  He'll have Alex or a similar replacement unit.  Maybe when Talon gets out of prison he can live here.  Matt thinks of Talon as a "he" even though Tate thinks of Talon as "she".  How confusing for a kid when his mother switches genders on him.  Anyway.  Today's kids probably aren't confused by gender fluidity.  They've grown up with it: take a pill and in the morning you've got breasts.  Or a cock.  Or both.  Take a different pill next week and switch back, like Alex does a few times per year.

But Matt's got this old-fashioned attachment to masculinity.  We'll have to get female dogs, to diversity this place.  With frankly feminine names.

He wants a family.

And then he realizes he has a family.  Heh, as Luke said, when you're privileged you just change your framework of description to match your desires.  Matt whispers to himself, not quite out loud, "Tate's not my sex puppy.  Maybe he's not my family either.  But I want a family.  I think tomorrow, I'll ask him ... if he'll marry me."  And then he holds Tate like he'll never let him go, as Tate snores softly into his pillow.

-----

And that's the end of this story cycle, I'm done with NaNoWriMo.  Happy Thanksgiving to all my US peeps!

September 2. 2059

After a quiet night, Matt woke next to Sir Luke in the master bed for the first time.  Luke appeared to "sleep" or to feign sleep or to make human-like sleepish sounds and movements, though he didn't snore (yay!).

Matt undid the restraints around his ankles so he could pee.  He usually needed to sit to pee while wearing a chastity device, so he was sitting on the toilet, although sitting on the toilet put pressure on his bruised butt.  In the morning peeing was often difficult because his cock was trying to have a big early morning hardon without the space required for full expansion, squeezing his urethra, squeezing everything about his cock inside the constrained device.  Yep, gotta do some math equations for a while, sitting here on the toilet, waiting for the failed erection to die down.  "Lisa, resume our chess game," -- thinking about chess often helped.

Matt suddenly deduced that arterial blood pressure must be the power source for male erections.  The force of his heart pumping blood into his cock, like a bicycle pump inflating a rubber tube.

Ahhhh, there we go, urination.  His bladder fighting to pump urine in opposition to his heart pumping blood, bladder vs heart.  Bladder wins.

After shaking his apparatus and rinsing his hands, Matt headed back to the bed, wondering whether he should "tip toe" in order to avoid "waking" the android.  He re-entered the bed right-side up instead of upside-down.  Looking at Luke's resting "face".

I don't think I can keep doing this, Matt thought.  It had been an exciting idea at first, to get a BDSM android, but Tate wanted him to form a relationship with it?  Isn't this like an arranged marriage only without the benefit of an actual human person to marry?  Can we adopt a dog instead?  Matt sighed without thinking about how he was presenting himself to his observant bedmate.

"Boy, what's on your mind?" Luke asked softly, eyelids opening.

"Oh, good morning, Sir.  Um ..." Sir had asked him a direct question ... "Well, Sir, I miss Tate and I'm not sure this situation is going to work for me."  Sigh.

"What about this situation isn't 'working' for you?" Luke's tone sounded like a blend of concern and confidence.  Time for more overclocked talk therapy with the android.

"I don't want Tate to spend half of his nights away from here.  I'm not sure two BDSM sessions per day is sustainable for me.  And I don't want to fall in love with an android,"  Matt replied succinctly, and yet comprehensively.  Yep, three big problems.  He sighed again.

"Hmmm.  Two of those are 'I don't wants' and one is 'I'm not sure'.  Let's take the first one.  I understand you missing Tate.  For a couple months he was spending every night here with you, and then he left suddenly for the job with Chris, after that he took another week away for himself, and now he's decided to start a long-distance commute.  You'd settled into the feeling you'd have him around most of the time, but now he's not around most of the time.  That sucks."

"Yeah, it sucks.  I mean, I expected that I wouldn't be enough for him, that he was too young to settle down with me.  But expecting something is different from feeling it happen."  Matt went ahead and grabbed the closest of Luke's hands.  Luke responded by rolling them into a snuggling spoon position from behind.  Matt liked the snuggling despite his third problem.  Ugh.

Though, the spooning from behind reminded him of his bruised butt and the other marks on his body.  Matt continued, "I would never have scheduled two BDSM sessions per day if it were up to me."

Luke held him and responded softly, "But 'wouldn't be enough for him' -- what does that mean?"

Matt felt a little angry, shook a little bit within the embrace, "Why should a hot young guy with such a sweet personality stick around with me?  There's an entire world of sex and romance out there.  Tate should explore his options before he settles down.  Maybe he's not the settling down type anyway.  Ugh.  Meeting me was just random.  What do we have in common anyway?"

"It did happen fast, suddenly he's living with you, you're his first relationship.  And you're not the monogamous-husband type anyway.  But you do love Tate.  What is it you want from your relationship with him?"

"I don't know!  Nobody asks me that."

"I'm asking you that, boy.  So answer me."

"Sir, I don't know what I want from him.  I never knew.  It was like I'd suddenly adopted a sex puppy.  I had to take care of him."

"I see.  Maybe you wanted him to become your 'sex puppy'?  But that sounds objectifying.  Or selfish.  So instead you say 'I don't know'."

Matt shook some more, Luke slightly tightened around him.  This therapy angle wasn't what Matt had expected from a BDSM android, although he'd selected the max conversation options.

"I don't know that I wanted a sex puppy, but I guess I felt that's what I was getting.  How I looked at the situation on Day One."

"How you oriented the situation to best fit your needs, your subconscious framework. Privileged people tend to describe their situations in ways that both arrange the facts to suit them, and portray themselves as benign and altruistic.  Why didn't you say 'No' when Tate asked to come home with you?" 

Um ... Um ... Um ... "Because he's hot, and because he seemed trustworthy, and because it seemed Chris was exploiting him and denying him what he needed."

"You wouldn't bring home any orphan on the street who asked you.  But here a 'sex puppy' wanted to come home with you, so you said yes.  Did Tate view himself as a 'sex puppy'?"

"How would I know.  It's not like much thinking went into this.  Both of us were spontaneous and surprised ourselves with the outcome."

"Hmmm," Luke seemed to pause for thought, but maybe it was for emphasis, "I think you two should have a conversation about what you each want from this relationship, instead of making assumptions about each other and thinking of each other as pets."

"Yeah.  I mean, Yes, Sir."

"About the two BDSM sessions per day, I already told you they would vary in intensity and would not always involve brutal punishments.  And if you want to take a break, for whatever reason, then talk with Tate about it."

"Yeah."  Of course, the standard advice for relationships is to talk with your partner about the stuff that bothers you.  Matt knew this.  But it is easier to advise other people to have these conversations than to have them yourself.  And Tate's been busier and farther away -- how do you find the bandwidth to talk about the problem -- that Tate's now busier and farther away -- when he's now busier and farther away?  Relationships have recursive communication blockages.

"And you think you're supposed to fall in love with me, 'an android', whether you want to or not?" Luke asked, making sure to address all three of the problems Matt raised.

"Well, I go from spending every night sleeping with Tate, to now spending half of my nights sleeping with you, the other half with Tate, and Tate did joke about wanting me to fall in love with you.  Like you're my alternate lover when Tate's not here.  He sounded so sure of himself and how this would work."

"And you're not sure how this will work."  Luke surmised.

"Exactly!"

"Well, neither am I.  Tate is an optimistic young man, inexperienced in relationships, just trying to survive until next week.  In the same way he has made other sudden and drastic decisions recently, he decided to become your new Sir, and then decided to insert an android into the mix.  And you're just going along with all of it.  Your submissive side mistakes Tate's impulsiveness for genuine dominance."

"Oh ... wow ..."

Matt thinks.  Mistaking impulsiveness for genuine dominance.

Luke halfway changes the subject, "Boy, I want you to think for a few minutes about what you would like to happen during this morning's dungeon session.  What do you need?  Think about it, organize it, then articulate it for me.  You need practice at thinking about what submission means to you, and what you need submission to be.  Think about it for 10 minutes."

"Yes, Sir.  Lisa, set a timer for 10 minutes."  And Matt thought.  At first he thought 10 minutes wasn't nearly enough time to figure out what he needs this morning.  But it didn't take that long.  But he'd been ordered to think about it for 10 minutes.  What he really needs is to get fisted.  He needs that extraordinarily intense pleasure that wipes every worldly concern from his brain and leaves his body deeply relaxed.  Getting fisted is the closest thing to a reversible mind wipe he's ever experienced.  And these three problems they talked about this morning -- he needs them temporarily wiped.

So he'll have some say in how all this proceeds after all!

Is fisting the solution to his problems?  Hah.  But what is the solution to his problems.  He doesn't want to lose Tate, but he doesn't even know why he has Tate, but he doesn't want to lose Tate.  Of course Matt doesn't want to lose an important relationship.  But we do lose important relationships, or those relationships change.  And do we ever understand how we got into the relationships we did get into.  And then it's too late, we're already in them and we don't want to lose them.  Or we do want to lose them, but we don't know how.  Or we swing from wanting to lose them to not wanting to lose them.  Or we do lose them, and then we miss them.

Lisa announced, "Matt, your 10 minutes have elapsed."

Luke nudged him from behind.

"Sir, I'd like you to fist me this morning, please," Matt asked, as respectfully as he could.

Luke laughed -- these "emotional displays" still surprise Matt -- "Absolutely boy, for as long as you want.  I'll open up your hole as far as it will safely go.  My treat."

Matt smiled, "Thank you, Sir."

But, while Matt was in the bathroom preparing for another night in partial bondage next to his Sir, Tate received a call from Marco -- asking him to start work the next day.  Marco Prime (his name is now Alessio) has already been wiped, they're trying to assemble the full team, they need people to start work ASAP.  Tate had already taken time to decide, now he's decided, so let's get on with it?  Tomorrow.  Ugh.  Tate asked Matt to start packing a bag for a three-night stay, he was starting the 4*12 sleepover shifts tomorrow.  Then he went to huddle with Alex about setting up initial parameters for Luke -- Alex said he'd complete Luke's setup before Matt wakes in the morning -- then Tate finished packing his bag, then he rejoined Matt in bed.  Tough to fall asleep, but he's got to fall asleep, so he unshackled Matt so he could snuggle "normally" with his "boyfriend" and fall asleep in his warm arms.

-----

Up and out quickly in the morning, as Tate kissed Matt goodbye, "I'll be back late Thursday night," he ordered Matt to visit Luke in the dungeon after breakfast for his first session -- Alex will monitor the beta unit's safety and performance, so head down there and have fun!  Kiss!  Bye!

Matt felt like his little man was growing up too fast, and wondered why, what's the rush, why couldn't Tate have stayed 17 for a while?  Tate also felt like he was growing up too fast, but, it's time.  Ma's going to prison, and Tate needs to be independent of all these loveable kinky gay cyborg billionaires.  Valuable to them because they need him, not because he needs them.  Tate's hereditary survival instincts, learned from an adolescent's lifetime living with his mother -- this is how we survive.

-----

Matt had a pleasant, but brief breakfast with Alex, who assured him that everything was fine, that everybody is working together to keep their eyes on Tate while giving him the space he needs to grow, offering him a career path if he wants it, with whatever training he needs along the way.

So Matt showered and cleaned out like he would for any BDSM hookup, remained naked, and walked down to the dungeon.  Alex had woken Luke, who was waiting for Matt.  Luke was decked out in a hot Leather Daddy outfit, though he looks a bit young to fill out that role, and held a riding crop in his right hand.  Matt was going to greet the android, but first Luke said, "No, you will only speak to me in response to me, and when you do speak you will address me as 'Sir' or 'Sir Luke'.  Got that boy?"

Matt wasn't expecting this, but he didn't know what to expect either, "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy.  Let me blindfold you.  Good.  I'm taking you to the St. Andrew's Cross.  Now stretch out your arms and legs with the cross."  Facing the cross, Matt felt Luke binding his arms and legs competently and securely.  "Open your mouth for a gag.  Good boy."

Now blindfolded, gagged, and bound by an android, Matt strangely felt as though this were entirely normal, as though he'd been picked up at the Black Eagle in Toronto by a hot young Sir who was all business and knew well what they both wanted.

"I'm going to lube your ass and put a butt plug in it, you should find it challenging but not painful.  If you find it painful you will slap the cross with both of your hands three times in quick succession."  And, yup, it was challenging but not painful.

Luke's voice is deep and focused, matter-of-fact, but not uncaring.  He sounds far more practiced and competent than Matt had expected.  Matt hasn't had an orgasm in many days now, he's still caged -- he'd hoped to have some unlocked cock time with Tate during the next two weeks!  So he's feeling horny and frustrated, but also, he's hooking up with this hot Daddy from the Black Eagle right now, heh.

Then the riding crop begins to explore Matt's back side -- his butt cheeks, his thighs, even his balls, though with less force.  Ouch!  His lower back.  Much of his backside begins to sting.  His balls again!  The butt plug continues to challenge his hole.  He can't swallow his saliva with this gag in place, it starts dripping from the corners of his mouth onto his chest.

A short break, he can hear Luke futzing with stuff.  Then a sturdy paddle crashes into his ass, forcing him to moan through the gag.  "Remember," Luke reminded him, "Three slaps on the cross is your 'safe word' while gagged.  Nod if you understand."  Matt nodded vigorously until he heard Luke say, "Good boy," as the paddle struck even harder, and then again, a thudding, then stinging, series of blows.  Brief moments for breaks, when Luke would lightly caress his butt cheeks, then more powerful blows slamming into him.  Far stronger than Tate had managed with his ass so far.  Matt's butt would not be "red" after this scene, it would be black and blue for a week.

And, Goddess, Luke just kept going, is Matt going to use his safe word during their very first session?  Aaaagh!  When a Sir pushes him toward his safe word, the torture becomes even more mental than physical, more of an internal debate.  Yes, this hurts like hell, but it is only pain, he's not dying, but his entire mind/body disintegrates ... cries out for this to stop ... this isn't fun, it's mean, or pointless, but Luke keeps on going.  Matt cries, he tries to resist the blows, but cannot, his body goes limp, he thinks of his mother, his father, their violent deaths in front of him in the accident that almost killed him, and he slaps the cross three times.

Quickly, Luke removes the gag, the blindfold, the restraints, and then holds Matt, with tender strength, lips on his left ear, shushing him -- Matt realizes how hard he's crying -- shushing him, holding him, telling him, "It's OK, you're OK, you're with me, you're safe," as Luke picks up Matt in his arms and carries him like a small child, "Shhh, it's OK", carries him up the stairs to the bed, lays him down, and spoons him carefully from behind.  "It's OK.  You needed that, nobody's given you what you really needed in months.  It's OK."

August 29, 2059

Having Matt sleep inverted on the bed meant he kicked Tate in the face or head a few times during sleep.  In the morning, Tate ordered Matt to drill two velcro ankle shackles into the headboard where Matt's pillow would normally lie, "Do it now, get whatever you need and do it now."  From now on Matt would sleep with his feet shackled to the headboard to avoid kicking.  Of course, Tate accidentally kicked Matt in the face also during the night, but that's fine, Tate is the Sir.

Tate texted Marco to let him know Matt would commit to buying one of his company's forthcoming Android BDSM Sirs and to please enroll them in the beta testing program.

And then Tate listened to the employment contract Chris's attorney had negotiated with Marco's attorney.  Lots of mumbo jumbo, but they'd also sent an "executive summary" that laid things out in plain English with bullet points and stuff.  Bottom line, it would be enough for Tate to live comfortably on his own for three years, if that's what he wanted, and he could also save up for future college or employment training, and there would be free on-the-job training for job-related topics -- so by the end of the three years he could qualify as a certified Clone Development Aide.  Tate felt he'd probably say yes, but he wanted to think it over for a couple days, so he texted the attorney that he wanted 48 hours to decide.

The beta android would arrive in about 48 hours also, he learned.  There'd be training materials for setting it up, with "free" online 24*7 voice support and remote programming assistance.  For now there was only one standard physical appearance for the android during the beta testing.  They'd spin up other appearance options later.  Not that Tate cared about appearance, but eventually he'd want Matt to choose the appearance option that looked most domineering to Matt's eyes.

What to do for 48 hours now?  Mainly he wanted to hang out with Matt, snuggling, talking, listening to audio together, and spanking his ass "red" twice per day before fucking it.  That ass was never going to feel normal to the touch again, heh.  Maybe he should brand the right cheek with a big "T".  He asked Matt whether that would go beyond his limits.

Matt thought quietly, then asked, "Sir, do you mean with a hot iron or just a tattoo?"

Tate replied, "If it matters, tell me."

More quiet thinking.  Making verbal commitments and even exchanging rings is different from getting a permanent mark on the skin.  Sure, he could have it undone, at a price, by seeing the right specialist.  Matt asked Lisa to explain the side effects of branding the skin -- damn, doing it the professional way means 2000 degrees F -- damn.

Matt thought, if I say it's OK, I need to say so confidently.  But would it be OK?  Most BDSM players either assume "no permanent marks" or make sure to say so explicitly.  They hadn't discussed comprehensive limits yet, but here Tate had asked him specifically.

"Sir, either way, if you decide to brand me, that is within my limits.  Thank you, Sir."

Damn, thought Tate, "Good boy, but I haven't decided yet.  I'll think about it."

"Yes, Sir."  Whew!

"But when you next have free time, I want you to fill out a standard BDSM questionnaire from the Internet with your likes, dislikes, and limits.  Be sure to tell me the difference between "dislikes" and "limits".

"Yes, Sir."

"Meanwhile, I'm going to keep your ass red, and maybe deeper shades of blue or purple, I'll keep your ass marked daily while I decide whether to mark it permanently."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir."

Then Tate reached for a sock and stuffed it into Matt's mouth, "Let's listen to the next episode of ..."

When I began modeling the Cum Deck, I figured an exact model would be impossible; I figured the interactions between the random orderings of the cards would allow me to estimate odds, but not determine the odds of a given deck configuration.  But after repeated tinkerings with my spreadsheet, I think I've finally created an exact model, and it is a bit more forgiving to the player than my earlier estimates.

So now my expected orgasm date is New Year's Day, LOL.  But this is merely the average of all the possibilities, assuming I draw a card every day I'm allowed.  As I think forward to Wednesday, what if I don't draw a card that day?  What if I want to wait until the weekend when I'd have more time to enjoy the 10% chance of a positive draw?

And now I'm already thinking one orgasm won't be enough on whatever day I draw an Ace.  That one orgasm would be a horrible tease.  Though not as horrible as drawing a Queen (8% chance), which is the "unlock and edge but don't cum" card.

I've designed an artificial intelligence keyholder, heh.

-----

One of the tensions I have, probably most people have, with BDSM is wanting to give up some control but not all control.  There's the fantasy of "no limits" but unless you don't mind being mercilessly tortured to death, you've got limits.  And most of us want to break a rule from time to time.  So ... at times I feel tempted to ignore this Oracle of the Cum Deck.  Why can't I just take off the cage and touch my cock and have as many orgasms in a row as I want?  Or something less extreme, such as playing with my nipples until I cum, which I know can happen.  I haven't done these things yet, I've gone 43 days without an orgasm, because I consent to the rules I'm under.  But what if tomorrow I no longer consent?

Many people find it helps if another person enforces the rules, but BDSM is still consensual, even if somebody else is exercising their own creativity in designing and enforcing rules for you that lie within your limits.  Even if somebody else is holding the key, or wielding the paddle.  You get to have a Safe Word, you can call it off.

You can fantasize about feeling trapped, but you asked for it.

Some people have fantasies about being kidnapped and stuck in a nonconsensual BDSM role, but they're still driving the fantasy in their own minds.  It's still an illusion of giving up control.

So why is this illusion so potent?  This feeling that I do not control when I'll have another orgasm, even though I'm the one who designed the game, I'm the one who consents to play the game, and I could choose to have an orgasm RIGHT NOW.

-----

The first time I designed a Cum Deck and played this game, Sir Zero was temporarily working in another country and I wanted a temporary replacement authority while he was away.  My first review of my own game was that it wasn't nearly as fun as having another person tell me whether I could cum or not.

But this time it's Quarantine that is temporarily depriving me of an in-person Sir.  I've redesigned the Cum Deck to be more challenging, and so far it is driving me crazy.  But I'd still rather have another person in charge.  And the Cum Deck only resolves one issue.  It doesn't make up for the lack of monthly spanking parties and the lack of sex.

I've always had my Time to Self sessions, though.  Even when other people are available I still want my Time to Self.  After almost every monthly spanking party I've had Time to Self afterward.  Many times after meeting up with other players I still have Time to Self afterward.  K texted me the other day that even when I'm 100 years old I'll still be playing with butt toys and needing Time to Self.  Part of why our relationship works so well is that he has no problem with me playing with butt toys in the same room as he's in, even if he's doing something else (working, sleeping, eating, having conversations with me).

If I could design an AI BDSM robot to do more than just randomizing my orgasms -- to have it spank me, play with my butt, tie me up, torture my nipples and balls, fuck my throat and my ass -- that could be fun, but after Quarantine ends I'd still seek out human partners for the emotional connection and the unpredictability.  My Cum Deck may be random, but it is nevertheless perfectly predictable.  My human Sirs have never been perfectly predictable.  And they also talk with me about my life and their lives and the world around us.

Heh, there are also AI conversationalists, dating back to the 1960s with ELIZA.  I could combine my BDSM AI with a conversation AI -- at which point would my AI Sir begin to pass the Turing test?  And if an AI Sir could pass the Turing test, would I need a human Sir anymore?  Would I need any humans anymore?  Just give me a few AI Sirs with somewhat different personalities and activity ranges.

And now I'm having more ideas for where my NaNoWriMo could go next, heh.

When Dax and I reach the elementary school grounds, I remove his leash, and usually I don't put it back on, he gets to roam the playground off-leash, and walk back home on the sidewalks off-leash.

It's so transgressive.  One time a man yelled at me to leash my dog.  Seriously!  Yelled!  From far away!

But Dax is well behaved.  He waits for me to signal it is OK to cross the street.  If I tell him to wait, he waits, if I tell him to come, he comes, if I tell him to sit, he sits.

Bug's inner Dom -- I can make these pets behave, because I love them and treat them well.  It's for all of us.  Servant Leadership -- I lead for you.  That's how I run my branch at the office also.  I love them and treat them well, and they do what I say.

That's what BDSM is supposed to be about also -- you take charge because he needs you to, and because you know how to help him grow into his better self.