By Taurus
Part 9 – Non-Coincidence Principle
Note: this is a continuation of a story by Taurus that has not been updated in some time. To start at the very beginning, click here.
Although Matt had acted coldly towards a now resting Luke, he did, in truth, care.
He cared a whole lot.
As he monitored the manufacturing progress of his requisitioned parts – device casings and power cells and AI conduits – without any way to speed them up, he spent most of his time with Luke.
Vantage, being his primary diagnostics AI, acted as a digital doctor, checking Luke’s pulse and neural activity. He had, after all, just done an intense simulation where time passed 20 times faster than in real life.
Having been assured that Luke was of good health, Matt dismissed Vantage.
His AIs were never wrong – so long as they were not asked questions of morality – but it was sometimes hard to accept their emotionless analyses as a human; Luke was so out of it that the stimulus of Matt touching his usually sensitive nipple did not wake him.
Then again, creators leave their imprints on their AIs. Guess what this text implies by stating this and the AIs’ ruthless calculus.
***
Matt felt tired.
It was a true rarity. The knife edge he had to walk in his politics had gotten him so high-strung that only now did his body catch up with his mind.
He was juggling too many tasks; for one, he was fiendishly working on his research paper, refining his theories on the implant-brain connection and how the brain interacts with memory. The latest part to this monumental construction was a Non-Coincidence Principle – that all simulations must not simulate the immediate physical location of the subject – in order to safeguard against the possibility of confusion of reality and simulation.
At the same time, he was tracking the manufacture of his own experimental devices, and playing a dangerous game of chess with the federal government, against whom he had devised one of the riskiest gambits, where the cost of losing was likely death.
Matt had no delusions – the technology he was developing could be used as a potent weapon based on information, unbound by contemporary treaties, more powerful than a nuclear bomb, yet more insidious than a designed virus – its victims would be indiscernible and remain completely silent.
Meanwhile, in the other room, he was assembling a collection of bondage equipment for a dungeon, which was a surprisingly stressful feat of calling up friends both old and new, and a whole bunch of cataloguing.
And then there was the figurative elephant and literal bodybuilder in the room – Luke.
So much to do, so much to plan…
***
He told me he’d sooner see the city flooded than see me go – which was a charming if not awkward way to try and get me to stay by his side.
I tried my best; I was only here for the summer, but he was a lonely man despite all his skills and all his beauty, and if his big white beard was an indication of age, then he was also a lonely old man.
I have no idea which is worse – if being old made being lonely worse.
I try not to think about it.
Sometimes I bring a flute to the beach – don’t worry, it’s a cheap one I got for fun – and I play stuff for him. Just today, I shared with him a piece I was writing – a nocturne in D major. I think he liked it.
The air around here is a little too humid. My breathing, accustomed to the carefully controlled air of a concert hall, was unfortunately rather stumped by the sea –
***
“Sir, Ondine has a message for you:
‘Sir, Ondine has a message for you:
“Sir, Ondine has a message for you:
‘Sir, Ondine has a message for you:
“Sir, Ondine has a message for you:
‘Sir, Ondine has a message for you:
“Sir, Ondine has a message for you.”’”’”’”
***
With a yawn, Luke discovered that he had awoken in the testing chamber, on his all too familiar recliner, the system of feeding tubes having been taken down.
“Hey, you’re up,” Matt said, scurrying to his side from his desk. Immediately, he beckoned Vantage to check Luke’s condition.
“All vitals normal.”
Despite this unequivocally positive statement, Luke felt a hair on the contrary. Looking down at his bare body, with his cock now locked away, a strange sense of vertigo washed over him.
He felt as if he had been naked for a whole day, his thoughts exposed to the world and scrambled like the best diners’ eggs – extensively.
Confused as he was, however, he knew he went to bed.
“Why am I here?”
“I was stupid,” replied Matt, “somehow this house has a bed but no blanket.
“At least this room has good heating – the alternative is leaving you out to get a cold because I can’t put clothes on you without waking you up.”
There was some contemplative silence before Luke broke it and thanked Matt.
“So what’re we doing?” Luke asked, following Matt into his personal office – still naked, eyes blurring at the sight of walls and walls and walls of text.
“You needed to rest; your 20-to-1 simulation of 24 hours tired you out. But that’s not so important.”
Matt pressed a few keys to save his work before leading Luke into a side room.
“It’s good that you’re still naked.”
A Saint Andrew’s cross here, a bench there, gags and rope and chain and cuffs and everything else a horny sub boy would want to gaze at for minutes, and use for hours. The room was less a dungeon and more a warehouse as of this moment, needing some serious tidying, but the gear was there.
Matt did not lie – it was more than just “good”.
“I brought your robot butler Ondine in, gave him a supplementary protocol for BDSM. You can now be a power bottom, pass some time. There’s still an hour until dinner anyway.”
Luke decided that he definitely wanted to play.
A leather sleepsack caught his eye.
“Ondine. I want to be in that, go for an hour.”
***
As Luke’s body was wrapped up in leather – surprisingly nicely fitting for a sleepsack that was not tailored for his slightly niche dimensions – he would need some “entertainment”, and he decided that his “entertainment” would be an anal vibrator.
Having synced various settings to Ondine’s voice recognition and controls, he writhed in pain as his dick tried to break free of the metal caging it, but he basked in the waves of pleasure even more than that.
He chomped on the chewy ball gag he found in a box that had two Gs, one A, and one S – not in that order, presumably – scrawled onto its side with a marker. Weirdly comforting, like chewing gum to relieve stress.
The only “curse you” moment was when the plug automatically reduced its vibration strength as he neared orgasm.
“Sorry, sir. Ondine is bound by programming to forbid orgasm.”
Naturally, Luke howled in protest. Unintelligible gibberish seemed to suggest that he was demanding something, or insulting someone.
“Ondine detects that you may be frustrated. How may I help?”
Luke tried to say “make me cum,” but only succeeded in getting his robot dom to “tie [him] up”. Not that there was much left to do to Luke – Ondine only found the opportunity to blindfold his master, who prayed that the supplementary protocol did not include a penchant for sadistic ideas that would result in him losing the liberties of breathing and hearing.
Perhaps “Ondine” was far from a misnomer after all – both Bertrand’s siren and Luke’s butler were capable of seduction and inflicting presumably sadistic torment.
The blindfold was nice, though. It was soft against the eyes, and not pulled too tight – such was the benefit of having a robot dom.
The bondage, in general, was actually surprisingly comfortable. If he was ungagged, he would be able to find a nice cozy warmth in the leather, and his eyes would be spared the dazzling ceiling lights. Truly, putting the “sleep” in “sleepsack”.
***
With a yawn, Luke discovered that he had awoken in the testing chamber, on his all too familiar recliner, the system of feeding tubes having been removed.
“Hey, you’re up,” a worried Matt said, scurrying to his side from his desk. Immediately, he summoned Vantage to check Luke’s condition.
“All vitals normal.”
Despite this very positive statement, Luke believed the contrary. Looking down at his bare body, with his cock now locked away, a strange sense of vertigo washed over him.
He felt as if he had been naked for a whole day, his memories scrambled like a deck of cards after a casino wash.
Confused as he was, however, he knew he went to bed.
“Why’d you put me here?”
“I was stupid,” replied Matt, “somehow this house has a bed but no blanket.
“At least this room has good heating – the alternative is leaving you out to get a cold because I can’t put clothes on you without waking you up.”
There was some contemplative silence before Luke broke it and thanked Matt for his work.
So what’re we doing?” Luke asked, following Matt into his personal office – still naked, eyes blurring at the sight of walls and walls and walls of text.
“You needed to rest; your 20-to-1 simulation of 24 hours tired you out. But that’s not so important.”
Matt pressed a few keys to save his work before leading Luke into a side room.
“It’s good that you’re still naked.”
A Saint Andrew’s cross here, a bench there, gags and ropes and chains and shackles and everything else a slave would want to gaze at for minutes, and then use on himself for hours. The room was less a dungeon and more a warehouse as of this moment, needing some serious tidying, but the gear was there.
Matt did not lie – it was more than just “good”.
“I brought your robot butler Ondine in, gave him a supplementary protocol for BDSM. You can now be a power bottom, pass some time. There’s still an hour until dinner anyway.”
Expectantly, Ondine gestured in a way which his manual would describe as “standby” with his head tilted 35 degress to Luke’s left.
Luke sat on the bench, which seemed supportive, but for now that was all that he sought to do with the dungeon.
“Not interested?”
“No, I was just…
“…tied…
“…up?”
Oh, Luke, you want this. You want to be locked away. You want to be in that sleep sack, blindfolded and gagged. You will even beg to never let your skin touch clothes again.
Just got tied up? Nah.
“Fuck it, I’ll try out the sleep sack.”
Now that’s better, good boy.
Click for next part
Click for previous part
Click to start at Part 1
