The following is a sexy short story that includes sex robots, a very naughty woman, and a mild dose of BDSM. I could offer some context as to what inspired this, but I have a feeling it will only distract people from taking in the true breadth of this very sexy story. Enjoy!
Amber Quinn was a bad girl. That was an inescapable fact.
She wasn’t bad in the sense that she’d snuck out at night as a teenager, smoked pot regularly, or pocketed an extra piece of candy from her grandmother’s pantry. She was bad in the most basic sense of the word.
Amber was selfish, egotistical, narcissistic, callous, and downright mean at times. She had little respect for rules, manners, and propriety. She was excessively vain, spending at least an hour every morning on her makeup. She was also exceedingly immodest, wearing only the trashiest outfits that showed off her sexy body, which was more attributed to her mother being a former model than her dedication to good physical health. One of her former teachers once told her that she had the beauty of an angel and the conscious of a demon.
That teacher might have only said that because Amber slept with her son to steal answers for an upcoming test, but that didn’t make it any less true. Being so self-absorbed and self-centered, Amber rarely passed up an opportunity to exploit her beauty and the desires of others to sleep with her.
She’d slept with a manager at a high-end clothing store to get discounts on dresses.
She gave a blowjob to a delivery boy so she could get free meals for a week.
She’d gotten a wealthy widower to fall in love with her, only to break his heart when she found out he’d lost all his money in a stock market scheme.
For most of her life, Amber was on path of selfish indulgence and utter self-destruction. She burned every bridge, alienated every friend, and squandered every opportunity to do something meaningful with her life. That ended abruptly three years ago.
It started when she attempted to blackmail a young, but wealthy investment banker by claiming he’d sexually assaulted her. She came close to getting away with it. She only got caught because she mistakenly shared her plan with her drug-dealing ex-boyfriend via text message, who ended up sharing the text messages with the cops.
“You finally paid a price for your selfishness. It should’ve come sooner. And it should’ve been much higher,” Amber often told herself.
In hindsight, it might have been the best thing that could’ve happened to her. When she got arrested, the prosecuting attorney – a woman named Lorena Jameson – decided to dig deeper into her sordid history. She compiled a comprehensive list of actions that put the breadth of her deviance into perspective. When the judge on her case saw that list, he looked at her with utter disgust.
He could’ve sent her to jail for years. She would’ve deserved it, too. However, Lorena proposed a different kind of punishment. She believed that jail would only harden her and foster more deviance. For Amber Quinn to become a respectable woman again, she needed a lesson in discipline. That was where Mike Blackwhip came in.
Who he was, what he was, and how he went about teaching her the value of discipline helped transform her from a self-absorbed asshole to a respectable, law-abiding citizen. Instead of extorting men for money, she had a good job as a paralegal at a law firm. She went from living with boyfriends/sugar daddies to having her own apartment.
However, in order for Mr. Blackwhip to carry out his court-approved role, her residence required certain accommodations. They were apparent every time Amber returned from work.
“Mr. Blackwhip, sir, I’m home,” Amber announced upon entering her apartment.
“Welcome home, Amber,” replied a voice through a small speaker in the foyer. “You’re two minutes and thirteen seconds late. Do you have a valid reason for this?”
“No, Mr. Blackwhip. I don’t. I simply lost track of time.”
“That’s an excuse. Not a reason. You know what that entails.”
“Indeed, I do.”
His voice was so strict and stern, even through a speaker. Amber rarely heard that tone from men and not just because her father had been a burned-out stoner who didn’t care for discipline. Whereas men were often intimated by her beauty and attitude, there was no intimidating Mr. Blackwhip.
With that in mind, Amber set aside her coat and purse. She could already feel Mr. Blackwhip’s gaze on her through the camera atop the monitor. She stood in front of it in the modest, professional attire that was expected for her work at a law firm. It was a far cry from the tube-tops and mini-skirts she once wore in public. It affirmed that she had come to respect Mr. Blackwhip’s rules, but that was only part of the unorthodox method that had tamed her trashy ways.
“Tardiness without excuses is not the mark of a law-biding woman. It seems I must incorporate punishment into your typical discipline,” Mr. Blackwhip said through the speaker. “Do you intend to appeal this?”
No, Mr. Blackwhip. I don’t,” Amber said, holding her head low in a gesture of humility.
“Then, proceed to the discipline room. Your weekly penance awaits you, Amber Quinn.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwhip.”
She spoke in such a polite, formal tone. Her younger self never would’ve recognized it. There was no attitude, ego, or coyness. The same Amber Quinn who once spat on her eight-grade math teacher for chewing gum during class now spoke with respect, humility, and obedience. It was still so jarring, but she’d come to appreciate it. Mike Blackwhip was the primary reason for that.
Like a soldier obeying a direct order, she made her way to the discipline room. That was just what Mr. Blackwhip called the second bedroom of her two-bedroom apartment. As part of the court order that kept her out of prison, she was required to stay in a two-bedroom apartment in which one of the room was converted into a unique area in which she could receive what the judge in her case called “specialized penance.”
Such a vague legal term didn’t do justice to its impact on her. There was no doubt about it. Amber never would’ve gotten anything like it in prison. She never would’ve become who she was now without it. When it began, she’d been both skeptical and reluctant. Now, every time she entered the discipline room, she did so with a sense of peace and humility.
“I’m here, Mr. Blackwhip,” Amber said upon walking through the door. “Please, tell me what to do next.”
“Your manners are improving. That’s promising,” replied a familiar figure sitting in the shadows, “but you still have a long way to go.”
As that harsh reminder lingered in her mind, the imposing figure rose up and turned the lights on. In doing so, Mike Blackwhip revealed himself to her. No matter how many times she saw him, she felt anxious, excited, and determined all at the same time.
What made him so imposing, however, had little to do with his stature, his voice, or the significant authority that he wielded, courtesy of a court order. Unlike any other man Amber had dealt with before, Mike Blackwhip wasn’t a normal man, prone to the same vulnerabilities as other man. He was a robot. Specifically, he was a male sex robot whose design, programming, and operations were uniquely calibrated for deviant women like her.
When he approached her, Amber couldn’t help but marvel at his form. He was tall, standing at over six-and-a-half feet in height. He had muscles that rivaled most amateur bodybuilders. From his arms to his legs to his chest, he radiated masculine power from every pore. That power extended to a large, well-shaped penis that hung between his legs. Despite having been with her share of well-endowed men, the sight Mike Blackwhip’s manhood still made her blush.
The closer he got, the more she trembled under his domineering presence. He might have been a robot, but he still had the presence of a man. His skin was very lifelike, but probably wouldn’t have fooled most people if he walked down a busy street.
However, that helped reinforce an important point, with respect to her court-ordered discipline. Mike Blackwhip wasn’t the kind of man she could easily manipulate. No amount of sex appeal or sensuality could distract him from his role. Being a robot in the body of a powerful man, he had a singular purpose and it centered around her.
“Close the door, lock it, and take off your clothes,” Mike said, his voice echoing with focused masculinity.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwhip,” Amber said obediently.
She did exactly as she was told, without attitude or complaint. She showed none of her former sass as she closed the door, leaving her alone in a room with a hulking sex robot and blacked out windows. It used to scare her. It still did on some level. However, as she came to appreciate her penance, it began to excite her.
It showed as she removed her casual business attire under Mike’s watchful eye. In the past, stripping naked was just another tool in her effort to selfishly indulge. Given her natural beauty and her willingness to use it, she could get almost any man to do her bidding. None of that worked on Mike Blackwhip. Even as she slipped off her bra and panties, he was not the least bit swayed by her fully nude form.
“Get on your knees,” Mike said firmly.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwhip.”
Already, Amber had exercised more submission and obedience than she had for most of her adult life. She was usually the one who told men what to do. She was usually the one in charge when clothes came off. Getting on her knees, usually to give a blowjob, was just another part of another selfish agenda.
That dynamic, which once fueled her narcissism, had been completely reversed.
“You’re getting better,” Mike told her. “You’re learning to respect authority, obey orders, and appreciate formality. That constitutes progress.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blackwhip,” Amber said with a respectful nod.
“But progress alone is not the goal,” the robot figure told her. “Reformation and vindication, especially for one such as you, requires extensive effort. At times, those efforts must be belabored.”
Mike Blackwhip took a step closer. He now towered over her like a titan. She looked up at him, a powerful robot surrounded by masculine flesh, in the same way a small animal looked up at a predator. There was no equality in this situation. He had the authority, literally and legally.
“Get on all fours,” he ordered.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip,” she said before doing exactly as he ordered.
“Now, follow me to your punishment rack. Crawl on the dirty floor like a disobedient pet,” he told her.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip.”
Again, she complied. With submissive meekness, she crawled alongside the imposing figure until they arrived at the punishment rack, as he called it.
It wasn’t a rack as much as it was a make-shift bed, which had been modified with various bondage accessories. It included shackles on the headboard, restraints that hung from the ceiling, and ropes that connected to the sides. Right next to the setup stood two small dressers, each packed with various bondage tools.
She knew what they were and how they were used, but hadn’t been on the receiving end until recently. They used to fill her with dread. Now, Amber got aroused, thinking about how they would be used on her. Mike Blackwhip didn’t just know how to use them. His programming made him the ultimate expert.
“Get up!” he said, barking the order like a drill sergeant.
She did so without saying a word. Before she could fully return to her feet, he gave another order.
“Bend over,” he said. “Put your arms behind your back.”
“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip,” said Amber, her voice becoming more submissive.
As soon as she complied, Mike grabbed her wrists and held them together. Then, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from the nearby dresser and bound her with them. The sound of the ominous clicking noise reminded her of that fateful day when she got arrested. Mike Blackwhip often made it a point to remind her of that moment, but there was a reason for that.
“No matter how much progress you make, you should never forget what a deviant bitch you once were,” said Mike. “You escaped punishment for so long. It’s going to take a lot of penance to balance the scales of justice.”
Upon saying those words, he gave her butt a firm slap. The sound of a loud “thwack!” filled the room. Amber winced at the sting, but it did more than inflict pain.
Her heart raced faster.
Her mind raced as well.
Memories of her decadent past clashed with her emerging present. It created within her a potent feeling that even a former deviant could appreciate.
“You feel that?” Mike Blackwhip said as he smacked her ass again. “That is real, tangible punishment…the kind you avoided for years.”
Amber winced again as another sharp sting followed. He proceeded to spank her several more times, using increasing force with each strike. He wasn’t too hard, but he wasn’t gentle either. Being an advanced sex robot, Mike delivered just the right amount of force every time.
Soon, her butt was tender and sore. Amber kept gasping anxiously, her body and mind in a strange state of discomfort and arousal. Then, Mike retrieved a black, leather studded whip from the dresser and rubbed the tip over her tender skin. Under his imposing presence, all she could do was brace herself.
“Now, you cannot avoid punishment! Not anymore!” Mike loudly proclaimed.
He struck her butt with the whip, giving a tangible feeling to such harsh words. Amber groaned at the resulting sting, which was more intense than before. Even so, she endured it. She didn’t have a choice. Even if she did, there was no escaping the truth.
Again and again, he struck her butt with the whip. Hard leather struck vulnerable skin. Amber writhed and groaned, but didn’t dare complain. She just bit her lip and trembled at each strike, feeling that unique rush that came with receiving such punishment from Mike Blackwhip. She had spent her whole life avoiding consequences to her many misdeeds. Facing them like this, taking them in such a raw and overt way, gave her a feeling that was uniquely liberating.
“You deserve this! Say it!” Mike said in between strikes.
“I…I deserve this,” she said meekly.
“Louder! Say it louder!”
“I deserve this! I deserve this punishment!”
Saying it out loud only intensified the feeling. It was so cathartic, proclaiming out loud that she deserved to be punished and willingly accepted it. After everything she’d done, Amber didn’t just want that feeling. She needed it.
Mike Blackwhip proceeded to whip her ass several dozen times, imparting punishment and vindication with every strike. It further added to her arousal. Some of that arousal manifested between her legs. She could already feel her inner thighs becoming very moist. What had once been a manifestation of her selfish indulgence was now a part of her overdue punishment.
Her arousal didn’t go unnoticed. Being a sex robot, Mike had sensors that allowed him to detect an aroused woman, which already put him above the vast majority of the men she’d ever been with. Unlike those men, however, he did not get distracted by the prospect of a horny woman.
“I sense that you’re accepting and embracing your punishment,” Mike said. “That also constitutes progress. As such, the nature of your penance must evolve.”
He gave her butt one last swat. It was extra hard, leaving a sting that lingered.
As Amber processed that feeling, the imposing figure undid her handcuffs, grabbed her by the shoulder, and turned her around. Once again, she faced him and his domineering authority. It was the first authority she’d come to respect and not just because of a court order.
“Get on the bed, lie on your back, and hold your arms out,” Mike Blackwhip ordered.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip,” she said, her arousal showing in her voice.
She complied with greater urgency, crawling up on the bed and lying down on her back. She didn’t care that her butt still stung and her inner thighs were hot with arousal. This powerful authority figure gave her an order. Having gained a unique respect for authority, abiding by that authority only intensified that arousal.
“Following the rules and those who enforce them aren’t always appealing,” he said as he walked around to the other side of the bed. “Most don’t need to learn that lesson the hard. Some insist on making it even harder. You, Amber Quinn, learned it many times and still avoided it. For you to follow the basic rules of society, enforces of those rules must get elaborate.”
He’d given that speech before. Amber heard it every time she endured her this elaborate form of penance. It was meant to reinforce just how much a deviant she had been and how challenging it was to change her perspective.
Mike Blackwhip let those words echo in her mind as he proceeded with the next phase of her penance. He started by taking each wrist and bounding it with a special restraint that was attached to the side of the bed. Her arms now immobile, he retrieved a couple of nipple rings from the drawer and fastened them to her nipples, which created a fresh source of discomfort.
“Ungh!” Amber groaned.
“Silence!” he barked. “You’ve no one to blame for this recourse but yourself.”
Before she could protest any further, Mike grabbed a ball gag from the table, shoved it into her mouth, and locked it. Now, she was both restrained and silenced. It was a position that had been alien to her until recently. It was also a position that made use of the discipline room’s most effective tool.
On the ceiling above the punishment rack was a mirror. In it, she saw her naked body on the rack, completely at the mercy of a powerful figure armed with both robot strength and legal power. It allowed her to see herself in this bound, submissive form. She could watch herself get dominated and disciplined in all the ways she once avoided. It created a powerful visual that she couldn’t avoid, nor did she want to.
“To appreciate discipline, you must also appreciate penance,” he said to her. “To appreciate penance, you must also have incentive…one that can be both painful and pleasurable.”
Her arousal was so great that Amber could barely keep her legs still. She watched with growing anticipation, her breath muffled by the ball gag. Mike Blackwhip got up on the bed and pushed her legs apart, casting a shadow over her that made her feel like an insect. In doing so, his dick went from completely flaccid to completely erect in just a few seconds.
It was another distinct tool that allowed Mike to exercise his authority. Being a sex robot, he was not bound by the physical limitations of men. The court liaison who’d introduced her to Mike Blackwhip told her that his genitals had been designed and configured with control in mind. He could be as hard as he wanted for as long as he wanted. That meant she couldn’t depend her discipline ending prematurely.
Having exploited and belittled the frailties of male sexual function in the past, it was almost poetic. Hovering over her was a man who would never become tired, overwhelmed, or impotent. She could never dominate him, even at her most deviant. She could only ever be dominated by her. He knew that because that was how he was programmed.
Another part of that programming was, according to another court liaison, to derive his own unique pleasure from carrying out her penance.
“Look up at yourself,” Mike said as he held her legs apart. “Watch as I impose my discipline. Watch as you accept your punishment.”
Amber replied with a light muffle before turning her attention to the mirror on the ceiling. From there, she watched the domineering spectacle unfold.
Mike, keeping a firm grip on her legs, aligned his throbbing cock with the moist opening to her pussy. She watched in her reflection as he drove his hips forward and entered her, his hulking male flesh filling her inner depths. He was not careful or reluctant. This wasn’t her indulging in pleasures of the flesh. This was part of her penance. That didn’t make it feel any less intense.
“Mmff!” she moaned, the ball gag muting her gasps.
It was happening again. Bound, gagged, and naked, she was in a state of total submission. She – Amber Quinn, the unapologetic whore who once extorted pediatrician for pain pills to sell – was being dominated and fucked. As someone whose ego once required that she always be in control, both the imagery and the sensations had a profound impact.
The sights, sounds, and sensations converged in that moment. With his member now inside her, Mike began moving his hips. Like a well-oiled machine – which he was, to some extent – he pumped his manhood within her depths. As always, he penetrated deep. He left no nerve unstimulated. It was like his penis had been crafted specifically to fuck her, which was probably close to the truth.
The spectacle of his muscular, manly body humping her bound form unfolded in the mirror above her. The pain from the spankings and the nipple clamps mixed with the pleasure of sex. The lines between the two quickly blurred. From that blend of conflicting sensations, a unique feeling emerged.
“This is your penance, Amber Quinn. This is how you repay your lofty debts,” Mike said in his booming voice. “Take this punishment! Take this discipline! Take it all!”
More muffled moans followed, but Amber never looked away from her submissive reflection. She had to see it play out. Like a living memory, it gave weight and substance to the experience.
Pain imparted punishment. Pleasure imparted affirmation. There was merit to following the rules, exercising discipline, and eschewing pure selfishness. Mike Blackwhip turned that profound concept into a special kind of penance. She felt it, watched it, and embraced it. Doing so didn’t just help atone for her many misdeeds. It helped make her a better person.
As the punishment and discipline played out, Mike intensified the pace of their sex. He was hard and fast with every thrust, fucking her with a fervor that few men could sustain. He took full advantage of being a sex robot, dominating her as much as he ravaged her. It kept that blend of pain and pleasure flowing, so much so that Amber couldn’t tell whether she was close to climaxing. She only realized it as she neared the final threshold.
“Mmmfff!” she moaned loudly as the feeling approach.
“Yes! That’s it, Amber Quinn!” Mike shouted. “Feel it! Remember it! Accept it!”
He slowed his thrusting, delivering one last round of targeted movements. They were intended specifically to make her climax, even as other parts of her body remained tender with pain. It was a difficult feat, even for a sex robot. Like he had many times before, Mike succeeded.
When she came, Amber bend her knees back, curled her toes, and watched herself writhe in the mirror. The intensity of the pleasure complement the lingering pain, as if to create a feeling of complete and utter balance. Even at her most deviant, through all the sex she had and the drugs she took, she’d never experienced such a feeling.
As her body trembled, Mike withdrew his cock from her, unlocked her wrists, and removed the ball gag. As she panted heavily from the orgasmic feeling, he cupped her chin with his powerful hand and looked her directly in the eye.
“Your penance is done for the day,” he told her, “but the process is ongoing. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t, Mr. Blackwhip,” she replied. “I promise.”
Amber smiled at the imposing figure and he smiled back. Even a sex robot understood the importance of what he’d just done with her. The sensations created a feeling and the feeling created an experience in which punishment became desirable and discipline became appealing. For a reformed deviant like her, Amber couldn’t imagine of a more effective penance.