Page 39 of Smart Ass

Ben was shaking now, all of his muscles gone liquid and acting without his awareness. Warmth soothed his aching ass and back, then more slashes crisscrossed over the first two.

“What’s my name?”

Ben couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to say. He just wanted more. “I forgot…” he slurred.

The sharp strikes to his shoulders slowed to alternate with heavy slaps to his ass. In between, he was caressed and massaged with a hundred tantalizing textures and pressures. He whimpered. “Please…”

“What’s my name?” Max’s voice was syrupy sweet, promising everything.

“Uh…” Ben’s eyes had somehow closed. He was floating in space. Each bump and ridge of the metal and plastic that was holding him up was imprinting into his skin. Into his brain. “Please!” he called again. He needed more.

Whatever Max wanted to give him.

“What’s my name?”

Something firm and round glided between Ben’s legs, rubbing and teasing his cock through the layers of fabric. His body’s biometric implants responded to the touch, making his dick just as hard as he’d felt it should be from the beginning. He was throbbing against his zipper, trapped and hungry for more.

He was going to shake apart. He was going to explode.

“Looks like you want to come,” Max sneered. “What’s my name, Ben?”

“Ma…” Oh, fuck. How was he supposed to make words when his whole body was on fire? When he was overwhelmed by too many sensations to even think?

A little shout fell from his lips with each impact to his back. The pressure on his cock increased, rubbing him roughly though his pressed wool pants.

God, that just made it dirtier.

“Please…” he managed.

“What’s. My. Name?” Max demanded.

“Maxamillion!” Ben shouted, the sound echoing through the room.

Every sensation doubled.

And then he was coming. Shaking. Breaking apart in waves of ecstasy while robotic arms touched and fondled and stroked him through an endless orgasm. It rolled over him, then pulled him under.

He thought the lights flickered, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Max,” he whispered.

“I’ve got you,” Max whispered back.

And somehow Ben was sitting in a chair. One of those hard plastic ones that curved to the shape of your body. Where the hell had that come from?

Ben blinked his eyes open. He was still surrounded by dozens of bots running soothing hands over him. He could see his jacket and shirt hung carefully over the corner of a shelf.

He shut his eyes again.

He usually liked to get moving right after a scene, but he was allowed a little aftercare, right?

He curled up in the chair, letting himself just soak in all the small, soft touches. “Wish I could…” he started. He kind of wished Max could hold him. But that didn’t make sense. He didn’t need anyone to hold him, and Max didn’t have a body.

Something draped over Ben’s shoulders. Oh. It was his suit jacket.

Not the coziest, but it made him smile.

His black shirt wrapped over his front.