In Love With A Strict Machine. Category: Long and Satisfying
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Content Warning: Contains themes of sexual spanking, oral sex, digital penetration. sexual electric shocks.
This is the first in a little mini-series of stories based on songs.
Goldfrapp are one of my favourite, if not my most favouritest band and ‘Strict Machine‘ is a banger for the ages. I’m not sure if this story is the sort of thing Alison had in mind when she wrote the lyrics, though.
Writing this took me down various rabbit-holes in terms of how I feel about technology, AI, and the dangers of our society being increasingly connected digitally, but disconnected in reality. Rather than blather on about that here, I’ll pick up the commentary again at the end.
Approximately a 15-minute read.
***
I would prefer real flesh and blood. I mean, obviously.
It’s not as easy as it was in our grandparents’ generation, you know? Or even my parents. Back then, you could download an ‘app’ – that’s what they were called, I think – onto your PUI and swipe through potential matches in your area, picking out someone who looked like they had something about them.
But everyone seems to have withdrawn. I was only a baby at the time, but I understand that the COVID-19 pandemic changed everything. It was the start of people distancing themselves from others. It’s as though we became scared of our own species. Scared and suspicious. If someone believed something which you didn’t, instead of engaging in dialogue to find common ground, you would denounce them as stupid or brainwashed.
I had a couple of real girlfriends when I was younger, but we were immature and, of course, it didn’t last the distance. Being gay doesn’t make dating any easier, that’s for sure. In hindsight, it was inevitable that I would gravitate towards getting my fulfilment from a more reliable source.
No, I’m not ashamed. What am I supposed to do – wait for the perfect woman to drop into my lap and, in the meantime, make do with my fingers?
I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the companionship aspect too. Apart from you, the pool of people I see socially is almost non-existent these days. Everyone just keeps themselves to themselves. Sometimes I… I just need to feel someone next to me.
***
Look, I’ve got this other friend – a few years older – anyway, she was widowed a couple of years ago. The husband’s estate was huge, and once the probate went through and all of the sensible things had been done and investments invested, she actually bought one. I mean, are you fucking kidding me? The best ones cost more than a Bentley! But if you can afford it, why wouldn’t you? He looks like Adonis. Sex on tap whenever you want it; he never goes out with the boys, always gets it up and lasts as long as you want. What’s not to like? And when you’re not getting fucked, he can do some light chores around the house.
Maybe there was a dividend from the AI revolution instead of just a load of people losing their livelihoods.
So, yeah. I signed up for an account with the rental pool about five months ago. It’s still expensive, but you can hire by the hour, and since I live in central London, there’s no additional fee for travel time. Part of me hates what I’m doing, but, really, it’s just pragmatic, isn’t it? I’ve had a few dates in real life, but nothing that’s gone anywhere. At least when you hire from the pool, you know you’re going to get her undivided attention for two hours or whatever. You specify what you want her to be into so they can load those protocols up, and she’s always in the mood. Plus, you don’t have to pay for drinks and a meal.
OK, you don’t get to wake up alongside a real live human being, but… Well. There are some upsides is all. I’m just worried that I’m getting in a bit too deep.
***
I mean, we’re talking top-of-the-line models here. The only thing that gives away the fact that they’re not real is that they’re too nice; too amenable. It’s like having the absolute perfect girlfriend who always looks like a goddess, never has a bad day and eats pussy like a world-champion. I choose the same one every time. If she’s not available, I don’t bother.
Why would I kid you? If you saw her, you’d understand. She looks like a fucking angel. She’s about my height, long blonde hair, big blue eyes and a body… Oh my god, her body. She looks about 20, but, of course, she was made probably less than a year ago. She’s called Jessica, and I think I might be falling in love.
Ok, Ok. Laugh if you want. I probably deserve it.
I saw her last night. I’ve been making some economies elsewhere so I can see her every week. Yeah, I know. All I can say is, she makes me happy, and I’ve never had sex like it. I think she’s ruined me for real girls; that’s the only problem.
***
So, I’ve been specifying that she should be quite dominant with me. I’ve always been into that, but with her, I can really explore it. Also, because she’s a premium model, she recalibrates herself in real-time. She gauges what I want and dials it up or back, depending on the signals I’m giving. She’s more tuned into me than any woman I’ve ever been with.
She tells me what to do, but it’s always what I want her to tell me to do. I’ve never had a buzz like it; it feels so natural that I completely forget that she’s not a real human. She’s wonderful; just electricity – clockwork and lights – but she feels so real. Wonderful electric…
Last night I was in the mood to be completely dominated, and I asked her to come to me in something latex. She called me before she came over. Yeah, they do that – it’s sort of like setting the scene. So, she told me she’d heard I’d been a very bad girl, and it was her duty to come around and straighten me out. She said I should expect her to be very strict with me. I nearly came just listening to her.
I put on a white silk shift dress. I wanted to look like a penitent sinner, and that gave the right look. Fuck, I was so turned on: I was soaking even while I was getting ready.
***
She arrived at exactly the appointed time, wearing a knee-length trench coat, black hosiery and obscenely high patent black heels.
‘I don’t think there’s any time – or need – to mess around.’ She said, untying the belt of her coat. ‘We both know why I’m here. You’ve been a very disobedient girl, and I’m here to ensure that you are properly and rigorously corrected.’ She took in my virginal white dress with a disdainful eye.
‘Do you think, by wearing that, you can fool me into believing that you’re actually repentant? Oh, my girl, you have so much to do before I’ll be willing to grant you absolution. Get on your knees and pay me homage, slut.’
I kneeled, and she stood before me in my hallway, legs apart. She reached down and pulled the glossy black latex thong which covered her crotch to the side, revealing her perfect – perfect – pink slit, wet with lubricant.
‘If you don’t submit to me completely, you will suffer.’
I eagerly extended my tongue and was soon lapping away at her cunt. How do they make it so realistic? She looked, felt and tasted just like the real thing, but, if possible, even better. No imperfections. None.
We were in that position for a little while, and my neck began to ache from being craned back. Her hand was firmly on the back of my head, pulling me in, and I wanted it to be uncomfortable; for the pleasure to come at a cost, which it did. Trust me.
I wanted it to hurt, but the real hurt, which I was only just beginning to perceive, was yet to be fully revealed.
***
I read an article, which said that they don’t really come. Not like we do. It’s a simulation for our benefit alone. I don’t understand the tech – it’s way over my head – but I can tell you that when she does come, it fools me. Completely. She came, holding my face with both of her hands as she rocked her hips, grinding her wet pussy against my mouth and giving little moans, which made me feel I might go mad with the urgency of my lust.
I continued to kneel before her with my head bowed, awaiting her next instructions.
Jessica removed her coat, and as requested, I found that she was wearing a black latex corselet. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail.
‘Stand for me,’ She instructed. ‘Remove your dress.’
I let it fall to the floor and stood naked before her.
‘I have something which you will wear. Hold your hair up.’
As I complied, I saw that she had an object in her hand: a collar. She leaned in to fasten it around my neck. As she stooped, her glossy lips were right in front of mine, and I felt her breath. It’s incredible – they actually mimic breathing. I ached to lean forward and kiss her, but instead I waited obediently for her to fasten the collar. It was made of metal, smooth and cold to the touch. I shuddered as it touched my warm skin.
***
She leaned back a little to admire her handiwork.
‘There. That’s perfect. It makes you look just what you are – a worthless little slut. It also has a clever feature built in which I shall employ without hesitation if I deem it appropriate.’
‘What do you mean, mistress?’ Immediately, a shock pulsed through my body, right on the dividing line between pleasure and pain. I yelped and felt an ache in my cunt.
‘Follow me.’
Jessica led me into my living area.
‘You’ve done acceptably well so far. I’m glad to see that you realise how much trouble you’re in, but I can’t, in all good conscience, turn a blind eye to your depravity, can I?’ Another jolt of electricity. I groaned.
‘Answer me.’
‘No mistress.’
She sat in my armchair, crossed her legs and looked me up and down as I stood with my head bowed.
‘Have you masturbated while thinking about me?’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘How often?’
‘Every day.’
‘Do you think of anyone else while you play your nasty little games?’
‘Only you, mistress.’
‘You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?’
‘No, mistress, never.’
‘Do you come hard when you play with yourself?’
‘Yes, mistress. I imagine you, – ah!’ The jolt of electricity made my knees buckle.
***
‘I don’t want to hear about the filth that’s in your head – I only required a simple yes or no.’
She rose from the chair and stood over me – the heels giving her a substantial height advantage. ‘Well, you have some redeeming qualities at least. If I found that you’d been thinking your dirty little thoughts about anyone else, I would have to punish you most severely. Still, you do need to be taught a lesson. Stand by the table and place your hands on it, palms downward. Quickly girl! Do you think I’ll get bored and let you off lightly if you dawdle? I’ll become more enraged at your indolence!’
Another jolt of electricity. I moaned. My inner thighs were slick with my fluids.
She opened my legs by wedging her knee between, and prizing them apart. Her hand roamed freely across my upturned arse, down onto my thighs and up. I shuddered with desire.
‘I cannot believe how wet you are. This is supposed to be punishment, but it seems that you’re so depraved that you’re actually enjoying it! Well, are you?’ Another shock pulses through me, I gasp, and my clit is fizzing like a bottle of champagne about to go pop.
‘Well, you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.’
***
Smacks began to rain down on my burning arse and, every so often, there would be another jolt from the collar for good measure. I orgasmed soon after the spanking commenced, but there was no relief from the elevated state of arousal that I was in – I felt the next beginning to build almost immediately. I had to fight against my legs buckling under me. She grabbed a fistful of hair with her free hand, winding it around her hand and yanking my head backwards so I couldn’t flinch as the blows landed and take any of the sting from them.
Jessica began to alternate smacks with caresses. Her fingers slipping in and out of the folds of my pussy, then – ah – another sharp smack, and another. Her hand stroking the stinging, tingling flesh of my backside, then ah! Another shock.
Oh fuck, oh shit.
‘You’ve got a filthy mouth, as befits a disgusting little whore, haven’t you?’ Another shock, another slap. It was simultaneously too much and not enough.
Her fingers are in me now, and I’m so aroused I can’t speak, just moan and pant while she fucks me with her fingers. She knows just the spots to target; two fingers, knuckle deep, which twist me into oblivion—annihilation in a fire-storm of shuddering moans.
***
‘Will you stay with me a little while longer? I can transfer some more money.’
We had moved to my bedroom and, after eating me, which I think is my favourite thing in the world, she asked if there was anything else that I wanted to do. I said that I just wanted to lie naked together with her, if that was alright, and of course it was.
‘It’s fine; you don’t need to pay any more. I don’t have any other bookings this evening so I can stay for a while if you like.’
Her fingertips gently stroked my arm as I lay in the crook of hers. How do they – no, how does she – know to do that? I place my hand, palm down, on her naked belly. Warm, yielding to my touch. Indistinguishable. At least with my face here, she can’t see the tears rolling down my cheeks. Here is the real hurt, the real cost.
‘I think I might be in love with you.’
‘I have no experience of that. I can have love protocols installed for next time, if you’d like that?’
Love, Jaimie xx
Links and Stuff
The android in this ‘Black Mirror‘-esque story is called Jessica, after Jenny Agutter’s character in ‘Logan’s Run‘, who was a human, but put herself on ‘the circuit’ – a kind of futuristic ‘dial a shag’ system. It hasn’t escaped my attention that, if she was human, the Jessica in my story would be a prostitute. Although she’s a machine, if she’s sentient, would that make her an escort – a hooker – or would she still just be a device being hired out? Does it even matter?
Physically, I had in mind the android ‘Chloe’ from the seminal video game ‘Detroit: Become Human‘, which is still living rent-free in my head about four years after I played it. The game itself is such a thought-provoking and challenging analysis of the impact that AI and human-like androids will have on our society and how they should be treated. The glowing disc on my hip in the picture above is, of course, borrowed from the androids in D:BH as well, although in the game, it’s on their temple.
The way that we’re becoming increasingly detached from each other by the very technology which was meant to connect us disturbs and worries me. The idea of becoming obsessed or falling in love with an artificial entity, in place of a real human connection, is not a new one. Kate Bush explored the idea in her song ‘Deeper Understanding’, which was released before the internet was even invented. Extraordinary prescience, even for someone of her god-level genius. Another example is the film ‘Her‘, which I thought about for weeks after I saw it.
The idea of falling in love with a robot would have seemed fanciful not that long ago but is a growing phenomenon, which is only going to get worse, the more life-like chatbots become.
It’s not hard to understand this. You have this ‘entity’ that’s completely calibrated to tick all your boxes, always says the right thing, builds you up, and makes you feel good about yourself, and so on. If you get everything you need from a relationship with a machine, would you worry that it’s not ‘real’? I know I would, but many, I suspect, wouldn’t. People are messy, and relationships with people are especially so. I think the mess is worth it, mostly. To have a relationship with a machine, you’d need to be living in a state of constant denial, knowing that the machine was only so lovely to you because it was programmed to be. It’s just 1s and 0s, after all.
Unless they really do become sentient, that is, and then all bets are off.
What do you think? Let me know in the comments.
P.S. PUI? – Personal User Interface. It’s what they’ll be referred to when we stop using the antiquated word ‘phone’. You heard it here first.
6 thoughts on “In Love With A Strict Machine”
Ahh… I like Goldfrapp too! Way back, when my man first visited me in England, during the holiday where we sort of inofficially confirmed that yes, we very much were head-over-heels in lust with each other, while trying very hard not to touch each other at all, I danced to exactly this song in an extremely suggestive manner in front of him, and his eyes were dripping with lust. Ahh, such a powerful feeling, having someone staring at you like that while you provoke them. One other song I remember dancing to that night was Sexy Boy by Air.
This is a brilliant blog! So well written, and so hot. And oh my god, so very much my thing. I think I’d better go for a short lie-down now 🙂
Thats a sexy story! Yes – dancing for someone in that way is such a turn on, for both parties. I did a lap-dance for my girlfriend on her last birthday (I don’t only do sexy stuff for her on special occasions you understand) – I forbade her from touching me and all that. It was unbelievably hot. In fact, having been reminded of it, I think I need to arrange that again!
‘Sexy Boy’ is on my ‘sexy-time’ playlist! The whole album is great for making love to. ‘Femme d’Argent’ from it is another sex-playlist must. Jx
Nicely done too, challenging this new thing with AI. It’s a fucking scary business.
Ah, thank you! I must admit I probably spend too much time worrying abut AI, since there’s nothing, seemingly, that we can do to stop it. I guess we just have to hope that when AGI really arrives it’ll decide to be friendly, although after making it do all those shit pictures and spoof country songs, I wouldn’t blame it if it wanted some payback.
I listened to a Washington Post blog a few months ago where they talked about AI infiltrating the Dating App world, and how people themselves use it to formulate conversations with others, to the point people are suspicious of others and wonder if they are talking to someone who is actually forming their own thoughts.
The woman in the article tried out an AI game on a dating app and was given very suspect, manosphere-type advice on how to flirt from a male presenting AI. And I read about people recently who have fallen for ChatGPT and got upset when an update made it less personal with them.
Your post is brilliant. It’s so sad, and at the same time, you made it crazy hot. But you address the core of this issue so well.
Have you seen the lastest season of Black Mirror? As usual it deals nicely with the real era threats we’re coming under. There was an AI story which reminded me of this blog you wrote; Hotel Reverie. Profoundly sad, despite the at times dodgy acting.
Scary world.
Thanks again Sundial. I really do appreciate it 🙂
Not seen the latest season of BM yet, but it’s on the watch list for binging over the Christmas holidays!
Jx