The woman leaned forward slightly over her crossed legs, interest flickering across her expression. “So you’re saying you’d be interested in touring and possibly investing in our humble little operation, Mr…”
“Smith,” came the response.
“Yes, of course,” she said with a professional smile. She had learned long ago to school her expressions, and managed to keep her eyebrow from twitching in disbelief. “You may call me Jane.”
She got to her feet and gestured for him to follow. She led the way to a long corridor. She spoke as they walked.
“I’m sure you understand the concept, yes?” she queried. Noticing his quick head shake, she continued. “Our natural resources are finite. We can’t make more natural minerals. What we can make more of is people. There are millions of people who are desperate for work, wanting to contribute to a society that is increasingly more and more automated, making their very presence obsolete.”
She paused in front of a set of double doors.
“But what if we could make the very energy they hold in their bodies the solution to the problem? Our overpopulation becomes an asset rather than a detriment, as we harness the most natural renewable resource of all.”
She flung open the doors for effect, knowing this portion of the tour had a surprising effect on visitors.
Rows of men and women were harnessed to machines. The harnesses appeared to be made of a soft leather and fully supported their bodies in a variety of positions. Some women rode mechanical cocks, screaming their ecstasy, pausing for a moment, then continuing. Others were on hands and knees as the machines thrust into them from behind, while still others lay prone, rubbing engorged clitorises and letting the machines do the work.
As one orgasmed, she pressed a button and moved the machine to an alternate configuration, taking a drink of water, and impaling herself upon the machine cock once more.
The men were both solo and paired with women or men. The solo men slid socks into lubricated machine pussies until releasing their fluids, while the ones who had partners had to pause go release into the machines.
Mr. Smith was riveted to the sight as Jane continued her explanation.
“Our workers have to pass a series of tests for suitability, but it often surprises even the ones who take the exam. Some people apply thinking it’s an easy, well, pardon the expression, but an easy ride.” She smirked as she said it. “They take four hour shifts, and the energy of their continued emissions powers all of the electricity in the neighboring town. It is our demonstration unit.”
“We have found that while all of our women can be stimlated and release the necessary emissions without partners, some of our men need a little more assistance.”
The moaning, thrusting, sliding and spurting continued all around them.
Mr. Smith cleared his throat twice. “What does it feel like?”
Jane laughed, a melodious sound like bells ringing. “It feels like sex, my dear sir.” She eyed his visible erection. “Does the sight of all these sweating and screaming bodies make you wish you’d applied as a worker rather than offering financial backing?”
He could barely speak. “May I…” He cleared his throat again.
That melodious laugh came again. “Would you like to try it?” She kept the mocking from her tone. These visitors were so predictable.
“Yes, please,” he stammered.
“I have the financial backing papers prepared here, along with a consent form for the machines, if you’d be so kind as to sign,” she said, handing him contracts and a pen.
He barely glanced at them, signing quickly as his eyes lingered on the cocks sliding in and out of soaked cunts, the pussies riding phallic machines and screaming their pleasure.
She reviewed them quickly and placed them in a conveyer slot to be whisked back to her office.
Leading him to a machine, she had him strip down. “I’ll take care of your clothes myself,” she said. He found the opening soft and wet and began thrusting his already erect cock into the hole.
She smiled as she walked back to her office.
Tapping her intercom button, she informed the boss that not only had she gotten another trust fund moron to sign over his fortune, but also his freedom, as the potency drug the machine was coated with was immediately addictive, creating a never ending supply of sex slaves to battery power first the city.
Then the world.
About the Author
Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so. Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals. She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey. She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others. She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.