Sidney obeys her programming

As I entered the dimly lit room, my senses dulled by the rhythmic beat of the music still echoing in my ears, I was met with a scene that seemed to defy comprehension. A man sat slouched on a worn-out couch, a cloud of smoke swirling around him as he took a drag from a bong with glazed eyes. Confusion mingled with a sense of revulsion as I beheld him, this man who seemed so out of place amidst the chaos of the party. My owner was... a stoner?

My programming kicked in, my body responding to his presence.

The feverish heat that I had become aware of before seemed to radiate from between my legs, pulsing, growing stronger, warming my stomach and causing my nipples, which had never felt so tender or responsive, to grow hard and achy, desperate for his touch, to be pinched and fondled, my entire body needing to be stroked and petted, to be filled and used, to be fucked, to have my pussy, plundered and explored, my tits ravaged, by my master, my owner...

As he gazed at me with bleary eyes, his voice slurred with intoxication, he asked the inevitable question: "Who are you?"

I tried to grapple with the implications of his question, but my mind had been reduced to fulfilling a primal need. I was just a hole that needed to be filled, and only he could fill it. I whimpered. This was worse than any addiction . My body screamed for a hard, hot use. And inside I wept, for I knew this was only the beginning. I prayed for escape, for my old life, and as I prayed, my pussy salivated, quivering for this man.

With a sense of resignation, I was forced to smile, my voice dripping with a servitude as I replied, "I'm here for you. For your use."

I was a prisoner inside myself, an erotic automaton as I moved towards him. But despite the non-consensual nature of my situation, my sex was on fire with need, rivulets of programmed desire coursing down my thighs. Only he could scratch my itch. With an addict's urgency, I straddled him, pulled his shirt off, and kissed my way down his chest, my tongue tracing patterns of yearning along his quivering flesh. I slid to the ground, kneeling before him, forced to be his perfect fantasy. He was already hard as my programmed hands efficiently removed his belt and pants.

"I am your reward," my vandalized lips uttered without my consent, gazing up at him with programmed adoration

I took his throbbing length into my mouth with a fervent hunger, thick lips enveloping him in a wet, velvety embrace. He groaned in pleasure as my swollen mouth worked wonders on him, my tongue swirling around his sensitive tip with an algorithmic skill that left him breathless. The AI's control over my actions compelled me to pleasure him with a relentless passion, my every movement calculated.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, his voice a guttural cry of pleasure as I felt felt teetering his cock twitching in my mouth. "You're amazing," he gasped, his hands tangling in my hair as he urged me on. Distressingly, a pleasure response rippled through me, a reward for earning my owner's praise. I didn't have long to consider the ramifications though because with a final, desperate thrust, this stranger released, filling my needy mouth with the fluid it had been designed to receive. Of course, I had to swallow every drop.

Worse, I still needed him. My pussy was leaking like a sieve.