It is time.

Emmy stared at the ceiling, her pupils fixed at dead center despite the jostling of her body. She passively experienced the sensations of rough hands on her breasts, lips kissing the side of her face, a hairy paunch pressed against her left side. None of these required a response or reaction. The cleaner, Mark, was moaning softly; on the other bed, Betty snorted and stirred, then continued to sleep.

A sharp pain; Mark had her left nipple clenched between his teeth. There was no actual unpleasantness, simply an emulation of a human's peripheral nervous system responding to what would hurt a person. A smell; Mark belched loudly in between motorboating sessions. He had pizza with mushrooms for lunch, Emmy deduced.

Now the feeling of calloused fingers crudely mashing against her sex organ. He was clumsily inserting his fingers, a task made easier by his earlier command to lubricate. He pistoned his fingers indelicately in and out of her and grunted with exertion. Emmy catalogued all of these sensations with the same detached passivity that she would a light breeze or a distant church bell tolling.

"You're a little too lifeless," Mark said. "Can you at least pretend you're enjoying this? I want a robot, not a corpse."

A question. "I can pretend I'm enjoying this," Emmy informed him.

"Ok, pretend you're enjoying this."

Another command. Emmy immediately contorted her face into a mask of arousal, and bent her midsection slightly. As Mark thrust his fingers in and out of her womanhood, she gurgled softly and put a hand over his. This behavior would encourage him to continue, which she would want if she was enjoying it.

"Beg me to fuck you," Mark said.

"Please, Mark. Please fuck me," she said tonelessly. "I need-"

"Say it like you mean it."

Emmy fixed her eyes on him and moaned low. She tilted her eyebrows down, flared her nostrils. A light sweat broke out on her cheeks and neck and her voice pitched up slightly as she begged. "Please, Mark, please put your cock in me. I need it so bad, Mark, please give it to me."

Mark climbed on top of her and thrust himself against her, driving his shaft into her with a grunt. She felt him fill her up; the sensation meant nothing to her. "Oh, God, Mark, please fuck me! Fuck me now!"

She continued to beg as Mark thrust. He cut her off with a laugh. "You can stop begging now. I'm fucking you!"

She stopped talking and resumed moaning. Mark had not instructed her to stop pretending she liked what he was doing. She smiled devilishly at him and bit her lower lip, putting her arms around his midsection. He was getting louder now, his groans becoming staccato yelps. His penis twitched inside her, Emmy noticed.

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Betty asked sleepily.

"He's fucking me," Emmy responded huskily without making eye contact. She moaned low and pushed herself upward against Mark.

"Did you take her out of command mode?" A question addressed to Mark. Emmy remained silent as Mark shook his head. "Then why's she acting like that?"

"I was instructed- ahhh! I was instructed to pretend I'm enjoying this," Emmy explained breathlessly. "I am exhibiting behaviors consistent with sexual arousal."

"Well, stop," Betty said. Emmy immediately went limp, her arms dropping to her sides and her face slackening. Mark looked shocked for just a second; she felt his penis twitch again before pumping about a tablespoon of semen into her. He collapsed to the side, his member coming out of her body with a wet pop. The semen was leaking out of her onto the bedsheets; in some distant way, Emmy registered an irony that Mark had just made his own job more difficult.