…waiting
…waiting
sexbot blonde_type9 admin control confirmed
protocol/Dave/queryresponse = “bride”
chatroutine_sexy_protocols/Dave/greeting
chatroutine_sexy_protocols/Dave/sexproposal
chatroutine_sexy_protocols/Dave/foreplay
sexbot blonde_type9 admin control confirmed
… savage and cruel and it shines like destruction.
Or at least, I’ve always found it to be so.
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| I usually deal with it by shrieking like a little girl, thrashing helplessly against the bonds and frantically begging for forgiveness. I guess everyone has their own way, huh? |
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| She shouldn’t worry about a thing. He’s really good at toppling over onto his side. |
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| Yes, I suppose that would be very special. |
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| Well, that’s a bit last-minute isn’t it? Honestly – that Raoul! He does make me cross sometimes, he really does. |
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| Letting daylight in on industrial light and magic. |
Uh huh. Well, I know
what that is.
No…no, don’t try to leave, honey. She wants to be with her Mommy. And if she senses we’re growing far apart,
she’ll release more of the paralysis toxin.
The only reason you’re conscious is that I’m here. She only needs to do that for a few days,
though. She’s got filaments spreading
along your nerve fibres, and when they reach your brain she can take
control. You’ll be free to move and
speak and stuff, but she’ll be in charge.
That way she can keep you safe as she incubates and feeds. It’s like being carried around wrapped in a cushion
of your favourite food!
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| Sex..?. Don’t talk to me about sex. I tried it once – not tryin’ that again. Nearly got me ‘ead stuck! Joke copyright Alexei Sayle. |
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| It’s wilful impertinence on your part. So’s being too early, obviously. |
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| Scurry scurry scurry… |
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| Don’t worry. She’s quite sweet, really. When she’s not in a bad mood. |
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| In space, no one can hear you sigh with hopeless romantic infatuation… |
…of the usual sort.
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| Don’t worry, she always reaches orgasm eventually. She won’t give up. |
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| If you pay extra, she’ll do tease and denial too. That’s where she asks you if you’d like to come, before telling you to fuck off. |
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| Actually, she does get occasional complaints. But they’re always retracted, with a heartfelt apology, before the end of the session. |
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| Technology… oh dear. As if I wasn’t already obsolete enough. |
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| In space, no one else can hear you scream. |
Anne! And it’s got some stupid title but anyway it’s the Anne in space film!
Here are some publicity photos, and a sneak preview of the dialogue – well, monologue – from one of the best scenes.
Negative, Houston.
The Commander and Crewman cannot en-suit at this time, because they were
engaged in sexual congress and the Commander cannot disengage. Over.
Houston, do you copy? Over.
Houston, awaiting response.
Over.
Say again, Houston?
Turn the oxygen back up? No, I
don’t know how to do that. I’ve heard
it’s kind of complicated. Over.
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| I love the way a recent article in the Guardian about science fiction on British TV just *happened* to use an image from this episode featuring whip-wielding dominatrices to exemplify the series Space 1999. |
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| That’s only fair, because you’re not in fact safe. |
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| Aww… look at that little pout. Isn’t she sweet when she’s cross? Better do what the little woman says, hmmm? Just to humour her, you know. You can assert yourself later, I expect. |
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| If you want a picture of the future, imagine a sweaty trainer stamping on a human face — forever*. |
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| I do. |
*Test time! What is the slightly garbled literary reference? Hmm? Anyone? You! You at the back – hands out of your pockets, boy! – what’s the answer?
A silly little tale. But could it happen in reality? You decide.
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| (Yes, I know this scene has nothing to do with the story. But isn’t she wonderful?) |
In this absurd story, the part of Miss Markham was played by the fabulous Mistress Eleise de Lacey. When I started writing the story, she wasn’t involved but she just arrived halfway through, and took over.
However, no resemblance of the characters to any person living or dead is intended. Except the character of Dennis, who is very precisely based upon Servitor in all significant, and several insignificant, respects.
… or raspberry ripple. I really hate raspberry ripple.
Goodness, I hope none of the dommes with whom I have the honour of serving from time to time read this blog and find out my little secret. They might force me to eat raspberry ripple ice cream in session. How awful that would be!
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| ‘We’ are indeed trying. Fortunately, only one of ‘us’ has to succeed, doesn’t she? |
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| Lucky George. Sharp-eyed observers of more than one ‘scene’ might spot a reference here to an earlier post. |
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| Boyfriends, eh? Always spoiling the fun! Why can’t she just do her own beating up? I’d go for that. I’d even pay. |