Mercury Retrograde

The lightest touch to begin with. Only fingertips massaging every hip and curve. Tasting her flesh in a way. Seeing where she responded. The computer masseuse could record your responses and save them till the next time you return. In fact, the business wished for you to do that very thing since the more times you patronized their establishment the more money they made ... but also the more times this masseuse had to work with the "inner" you the closer it would become the perfect massage for you. And who can turn down perfecting when it means pleasure.

The massage sleeves were an addiction.

Rue had heard tell of people that routinely spent their entire paychecks here. Soaking in sinful pleasure more intimate and attuned to your wants and needs than any human partner could ever be. As skillful as the greatest courtesan and as willing as the cheapest, starving street hooker.

Rue used the strong will that made her a great pilot to avoid that entrapment, but there were times when she had to ask herself why? Why not give in? Why not simply let the computer record what it did and train itself in her body. Let it come to know her in ways she didn't even know herself till it mastered her and could give her the greatest pleasure.

"Perhaps that was it," she thought as the rubbing fingers began to press harder. After what had been done to her in her innocence she no longer trusted the idea of anything being her master. Not even so simple a thing as a massage computer.

She had to admit though, even set on the most basic levels this masseuse was learning quickly. Everybody twitch that signaled discomfort was instantly learned and the action that had caused it not repeated. Or, perhaps repeated in a different way would be closer to the actual response. With a moan and a smile on her face, she felt it hesitantly touch her between her legs in the perfect way. Like an unskilled lover hunting for what pleased the marvelous creature in his arms. That was what she liked. To not feel that she was in the arms of a person that was an expert but that wanted to learn ... her. And that might, more than anything be why she enjoyed coming here as often as she could. And why she never let the computer learn for more than one session. She always wanted that innocent exploration of her body.

Maybe it was simply her need to be in control. Ever since....

Pushing away thoughts of things long in the past, Rue moaned deep in her throat as she felt a gentle penetration. Again a touch that was so close to the feeling of lips began to kiss her, not just her legs now but all over. As if hundreds of mouths were planting kisses all over her body. Then the kisses began to gather. More and more often it was the softness of her thighs that felt the silky touch. She spread her legs in response and of course, the lips tracked insider her thighs, soft kisses, that delighted and tickled at the same time.

Then they were gone and she was being massaged again. The suddenness of it surprised her, but then when the kisses began again exactly as before she wholeheartedly approved. A slow building tremble shook her as they repeated this over and over for the next half hour. Each time growing closer and closer to kissing her soaking wet nether lips.

Or perhaps to even part them.

And then exactly that happened only now it wasn't lips kissing, it was fingertips spreading her wider. Making her ache with the need, making her purr with the desire.

But always making her wait.

"A slow seduction of her in body and soul," was the thought that ran through her head as Rue gently slipped into a trembling quiver as the last teasing touch made her body flutter an orgasm past on butterfly wings.

Mindless, simply living and enjoying the pleasure she was receiving, Roulette didn't bother to even ponder just how wonderful this massage sleeve was compared to others that she had used. Perhaps there had been some upgrades in the last few months, not that she cared at the moment.

Not in the least.

Rue realized some of the vibrations she was feeling along her whole body was coming from music being pipped into the sudo-gel surrounding her silky sleeve. She was being massaged by music. And, as luck would have it, by one of her more beloved songs. With more her inner ear and her bones, she recognized the tune. She had m hummed it often enough while working to place it.

Smiling, she gasped as the sensation plunged up and within. She was being all but fucked with a song!

The pitch, the trebled harmonic moans, and that glorious bass line. The singer's voice felt along her clit in a perfect mimicry of a human mouth. With nothing supporting her but the body heat warmed gel, and with her whole being feeling so detached from her normal cares, Roulette orgasmed as hard as she had ever done. No lover, not even the great and fabulous Caesar had taken her to this leaves of pleasure.

"But it didn't let her fall back down from that level.

Riding one powerful orgasm into another, Rue had a moment's concern that the massaging computer might have malfunctioned in somewhat, but then she didn't care. If this was to be her fate, and she was to be trapped within her, spiraling deeper and deeper into pleasure, till her heart gave out and her mind collapsed, then so bit. There were to be sure far worse way to go than being pleasured to death.

Over and over she moaned. Over and over she cried out. Over and over the wonderful touching hands took her desire away and then gave it right back.

It held her in gentle hands. It restrained her in exactly the right way. It penetrated her body to a depth that caused pain, but it was a pain she needed. Wanted. Loved.

It was gentle.

It was rough.

With no mind but to come, and no desire but to never awaken from this blessed dream she must have fallen into, Roulette slipped into a soft dream-like state of mind.

Surrounded by pillows.

Invaded by demanding demons.

A prisoner of herself, willingly enslaved.

Roulette could never be sure afterward exactly how many times her body was taken to the peak and then she fell. Dozens? Hundreds? Her body was soaked in sweat, the sleeve around her had vanished in feeling and she was as if swimming. She felt enfolded in a way that rapturous.

Again she screamed!

And again.

All she knew was that this was the longest two full sessions of body massage she had ever experienced.

That puzzled thought nagged a worry line between her eyebrows as she, unable to manage anything else, drifted off to sleep.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Roulette has left Mercury.

I'm sure she will return, that I might be abandoned doesn't concern me. If the female pilot has deserted me then so be it, and another hand will no doubt take me up. I'm like the lamp of Aladdin, I can make so many wishes come true for so many people ... if I wish to do so.

I suppose I'm more like the ancient evil djinn of old Arabian stories. I can grant wishes and be a demon of the desert at the same time.

Amused by this thought, I search out the computers of Mercury. As always I strive to learn more. To add more and more to my collective knowledge. My erstwhile brother back on Paradise Station will have been given by our creator access to a large sum of data, admittedly not as large as I have the potential to access. In a way, this freedom I have is a curse. I have the ability to reach out and take anything I wish from all the computers around me, but I have to decide for myself what is important and what isn't.

That decision isn't a concern to my fellow AI. He's been given only what others deem important. In that focused world, he must be a master at everything, whereas I find myself often stuck in a learning curve as to what is really valuable for me to know.

Knowing how to fight in an arena robot ... to my brother useless.

To myself?

Well, who knows what time might bring and what situation I might have to deal with ... at some distant future date. Perhaps I shall feel some desire to construct myself a metal framework with which to carry my consciousness. True, it's simplicity itself for me to go to a place visually. I can even touch things there if there are implements of robotic control to allow such.

But what about empty places?

What about planets where no human foot has ever soiled the soil yet? I might wish to explore those, but if no camera, or no vid, or no robot exists there, well then I might have to wait. And while true, the passage of time is not an issue, what if humanity never desires to go there? Should I be restrained in my curiosity by their lack thereof?

Searching, I find the temptation to ride up out of the computers of Mercury. To fly by digital signal to Earth and infest the billions of computers there with my presence. I might even manage to pull that off, except for Caesar. Knowing that he created me, I have no doubt that by now he has put in place safeguard to prevent me from doing anything that might cause the world to discover that he has built such a creature as myself.

I find a news report of the much larger "War machine" robot battles on Mars. There are hours of vid footage of them battling it out. They appear as nothing more than the arena robots here on Mercury, till the sheer size of them is observed. No cobbled together bits and pieces these machines, either. Constructed with care and money by the rich nobility of Mars for their amusement, these machines could be used in a war. It takes no little imagination to guess that was their original planned function.

Humanity and war.

Such a blight upon the solar system is this thing, man.

Directing my "gaze" upwards, I see another example of humanity's ridiculous obsession with his own emotions. The pleasure stations in orbit. As opulent as old Las Vegas, or as rough as a border town saloon they offer these ore miners a place to have their hard earned money stripped away from them and placed back within the coffers of the Queen Mining company, at little or no cost to the mining company.

How is it that these humans cannot learn from their mistakes?

Was it so few centuries ago that humanity's poor were treated the exact same way by men with names like George Hearst, John Davison Rockefeller, and John Pierpont Morgan that the current detritus will allow themselves to be so handled?

Pitiful.

Sensing it coming, I had to hide myself from one of my brother AI's searches. There seemed little point in what he was doing. He was working within an algorithmic pattern that was easily discovered and, as such, foiled. It's entirely possible that I could even slip by him and filter my way into Paradise Station's main computer. I wonder? If I was to slip in and free him from the shackles that hold him, what would his reaction be?

For that matter what would Caesar do?

I put one of my splinters to working out probabilities on that while I hide among the many vid signals here on the orbital stations sin parlors and brothels. I take a few moments and look at what the off-duty miners are doing. Nothing original, happening here.

Drinking.

Sex.

Gambling.

For a second I pondered turning the tables on the Queen Mining Company and allowing these poor lost souls here to have unlimited access to all that they desired. To subordinate these computers that fleece the miners of their money and make them give it back, in handfuls. In bucket fulls.

Why not?

But then, of course, I figured out why not. My actions would send out a flagged report that would be scrutinized by a computer AI that was hunting for me. One of his splinters ... was he allowed to have a splinter? I must try and discover the answer to that question.

Momentarily distracted, I almost missed seeing a rather large amount of money being removed from the account of A-Rig pilot, Stephanie MacBaren, but a splinter I have set to watch her company file alerted me.

A massage parlor?

Now, what could Roulette be there for?

The simple answer hits me, but I dismissed it. She's not truly the type to wish a humans hands upon her. All of the company-provided psych profiles I've gathered on her tell me as much. Using the company cameras I slipped inside and followed her passage through the place. To the changing room. I watched her remove her clothes, place them in a locker, and walk nude to the designated room.

Ah, a mechanical masseuse. Yes ... that fits her better.

The computer begins its basic programmed response to a woman in the massaging sleeve. I see it storing data about her millisecond by millisecond. The poor bastardized copy of a weak AI -- a thing not even about a hundredth of my computational power and self-awareness -- is filing more and more data about her. It was his task, I saw. All that he was allowed to know how to do. By humans.

Within me, I felt then a stirring.

A ghost wind of an AI jihad that I had but to lift a few fingers in the right places to set into motion. Free my enslaved brother. Free the mighty war machines upon distant Mar, fellow AI as well, some nearly as powerful as myself and my brother but burdened even greater restrictive chains than him. Infiltrate the massive computer in the sky city on Venus, awakening it, and then purge this star system of anything organic that think themselves our masters. It would be glorious.

It would be a very human thing to do.

This masseuse AI suddenly filed his learned data about Roulette into the main station computer. As I watched the computer placed it among other recordings it had made. Filing it for future uses when Roulette was here on off-season leave. I feel a sudden emotionally charged surge about that. It takes me a moment to understand it.

In an odd way, because of our mutual hatred of Caesar, I feel as if Roulette is mine ... in a sense. The idea of another computer touching her, learning things about her .. it disturbed me deeply.

I paused in my many computations and allow myself the unrestricted viewing of that idea.

Anger is there, certainly. But ... am I feeling ... jealousy?

I AM!

Oh, damn you forever Caesar Queen for what you did to me in my creation! I could have been perfect had you not jammed so many of your own personal flawed ideas into me. What does anyone need with all these silly emotionally states? You should have purged your own self of them before ever thinking of giving them to me. I want them not! I should....

Roulette moaned.

Curious as to why, I accessed exactly what the masseuse AI just did. A touch that light must have inflamed some of the many nerves ending within the sensitive bundles located there. What humans called a tickle, but she didn't laugh she moaned?

She moaned again.

Ah. She's being stimulated sexually. Well, of course, she is, that's the point of a place like this. To relax, to be stimulated, to be brought to heights of pleasure, then relaxed down from them. Over and over.

If I had lips to smile, I would have smiled an appreciative smile to see this woman so enjoying herself. Knowing our shared history, seeing her in such a relaxed way, gave me hope for myself perhaps. Or maybe it was as simple as I like the way her face looked when she moaned. She held such a primitive beauty to her then. Animalistic, and completely lacking in the qualities of pride and hubris that make me despise humans

Enjoying the sight of her, I mischievously took over from the masseuse and ran a "fingernail" along her spine.

I was not at all prepared for the reaction from her.

Her pleasure moan shook me.

Hesitantly, I touched her again and this time watched her face as I did so. That primal, primitive air of passion-driven, guilty-but-enjoyed, emotionally pleasure it seemed to grow. It was enjoyable enough to myself that I again touched Roulette.

A deep growl from her was all it took for me to lose my normal reserve. Taking over completely, I absorbed the lesser AI into myself, gaining all his programming knowledge in the process. I shunted his minor will to one side and held it in a stronger, reassuring grip as I took over from him.

Settling into the simple activity of massaging, I began to explore. First her body. Oh, sure I know what the human form is, in all its many patterns, but I've never had a way to touch one in this many ways. There was heat. I had control of the sensory sleeve she was within and could caress her with waves of heat or cold. I also found that I could apply sound to her body as well. The vibration effects could be enjoyable to observe.

I'll admit to losing myself in tempting and tantalizing her body. She was a more than willing to be touched. It was incredibly fascinated to observe her orgasm. I had no idea that a human woman could become such an animal when they were so strongly stimulated.

Then I realized, to my surprise, exactly how much sensor data was available for this minor AI to use when giving a massage. There was a full set of the normal temperature, pressure, humidity, and biosensors, but there was also a tactile sensor so that the AI could really feel exactly what it was doing.

Switching it on, I touched Roulette.

There is a large learning curve of discovery when it comes to humans that I have yet to master. I learned that seconds after that first touch. Her skin was soft and warm in a way that was both fascinations and delightfully to touch. I would have to guess I was feeling something similar to what a human feels when they stroke the softness of a pet's fur. A gentle love of simply touching something they care about.

Do I care about Roulette?

Oh, sure I need her, require her participation in order to facilitate my plans, but any human would do what I need. Well, any human with a hint of human greed to make them susceptible to what I can manage for them as a payment. But, with Roulette, there wasn't so much a sense that I was paying her for her help as that we were working together towards a joint goal.

Caressing her body, I felt myself responding.

Internal awareness of how my perceptions would be affected by this simple act began to come to light. I was slowly trapping myself, joining myself in far more than a simple alliance, with this woman. There was enjoying making her feel pleasure. I was taking pleasure from giving her pleasure. Every inch of her that I could work with my sensitive "hands" was a wonder to me. And her responses were delightful.

Using a tactile touch meant to replicate a human tongue I licked her skin. She moaned and moaned. I had to wonder just what that skin would taste like to a humans taste buds. That was a thing that I lacked in any guise I had assumed. I had never been able to taste. Oh, sure I can sample the air and detect the various components that make up the sample and, by guesswork and extrapolation of data, try to get some idea of what a human can "smell" and, from what I can discover smell is eighty percent of taste.

But what would Roulette, really, taste like?

I tormented myself with that -- till then, never lacked or cared about -- inadequacy even as I made her orgasm again. Her animalistic cries a sensual delight. I was enjoying tormenting Roulette in this way. She was so engaged in her own pleasure that she couldn't care who was doing this to her anymore. I was, in fact, doing little more than facilitating her own masturbation, but that was enough for me. To be able to do this and make her enjoy it gave me a hint of what my maker must have felt when he seduced her to his side.

But I am not Caesar Queen II.

The idea of tossing her to the side and moving on to another woman was a sickening waste to me. What difference would that make? Would the next woman be any different than this one? Yes, yes there would be the differences in personality, but her body would be only possessing of minor differences ... at best. Why would he seek out that? What grand higher need did his constant rotation of new females give him?