Erotic short fiction: A Special Sybian, Chapter 1


A special toy, for a special kind of torture.

With many thanks to softprincessdenied.bdsmlr.com, although I can’t find a link to the original story now.


It started so innocently. But then again, doesn’t everything?

Linear algebra, java, machine learning.

I always knew it couldn’t be done — that I was safe in my little fantasies. That is, until I knew that yes, it was absolutely possible.


I remember the day that he told me he had bought a sybian. I had never heard of anyone actually buying one — that was something like, porn studios have. Not nice, normal boys.

But, then again, he was anything but typical, wasn’t he?

I shivered, wanting so much to ride it for him. I wanted to be fucking helpless on that machine. The beautiful thoughts of helpless submission swirled in my brain. I fucking wanted it.

“Maybe we’ll edge you nice and close, and see how long you can hold out, while you ride it,” he told me, smiling that devil smile of his.

Now, really — that wasn’t even fair. That was much too close to the ultimate fantasy.

I bit my lip and blushed. “Can I tell you a secret?”

His smile widened. “Of course. Tell me your dirty little secret.” He leaned in close to my ear. “In detail.”

I squirmed. “I read this story once, where there was this special sybian, that would learn your body — every little reaction, as you got closer and closer to cumming. Then the machine would use that data to…” I trailed off, not having the courage to finish my sentence.

His fingers slipped into my panties and began to tease my dripping wetness. “To what?”

“…To never let you cum. Just edge you until you lose your goddamn mind.” I swiveled my hips, trying to get his fingers inside me. “Until you’d agree to anything, just for a single orgasm. Sweet, beautiful torture.”

He pulled his finger away, half a centimeter, so I couldn’t get what I wanted so desperately.

I mewled.

“How would it do that?” he asked, making slow circles around my clit.

My voice was becoming increasingly ragged. “I don’t know. Some… umm, combination of regression algorithms and like… sensors. Heart rate, blood pressure. Pressure and fluid on the machine itself.”

“AI?” he asked, dipping his two fingers into my pussy.

“Fuck… fuck yes. AI.” I could feel myself contracting around him. “Please, please let me cum. Please, I’m so close.”

“No.” He kept his pace. “Remind me again, what is your Master’s thesis?”

Fuck.

“Please, no,” I begged. “You can’t do this to me. This isn’t fair.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “I can, because you want me to. Now, tell me.”

“You know already,” I whined.

“Tell me, or I stop.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I did not want him to stop. I was so close… right on the edge…

“…. Genetic algorithms. AI for life support systems.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“Mmm, right. And what am I studying?”

Do you ever have one of those moments that coalesces so brilliantly, like spiraling pull of inevitability? I saw the chasm below me. I saw it.

And I fucking dived.

“Medicine. Cardiology.” I said.

He pushed another finger in me, and it bowed my back.

“A sybian, a collection of sensors, and a multi-variable regression algorithm,” he said, pumping his fingers as I panted for him. “This can be done. You can have your torture machine. I wonder what I’d do with an filthy, eager, helpless little slut?”

“Fuck, please let me cum!”

“Not until you beg me for it.”

I screwed my eyes shut. “Please, fuck. Please let me cum. You own my orgasms; you decide. Fuck, please. I’m your dirty little cum whore. Just let me cum, I can’t hold it!”

“Yes, you can. And good guess, but no. Try again.”

His fingers worked, and I found it harder and harder to take a full breath. I tried to think, but my thoughts were nothing but afterimages on the back of my eyelids. “Please…” I started, before my chest became a cavernous ruin, as I realized what he wanted from me. “No…”

He was so patient, holding me in an eternity of need.

“Please… please let me modify it. Let me program it to be a torture device.”

“Good girl.” He pulled his fingers out and pushed them between my lips, assaulting my mouth with the tart, creamy taste of myself. “Of course I’ll let you. And maybe when you deliver, I’ll let you cum one last time because cuffing you to the sybian and letting your program run.”

Photo by Mickael Gresset on Unsplash


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