Meet Chloe

Author's note: I've now restarted the "let's make the whole story into realistic ai vids" project again. Today I have released the first three new ones , for chapters 21-23. I will start releasing these with each new submission accelerator chapter. These are viewable to my subscribers first, but will come here after six chapters. If you want to see them ahead of time, please subscribe!

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The wet, meaty smack of Daphne’s hand against Tina’s face echoed through the warehouse.

Daphne didn’t stop. She brought her heavy combat boot down again, driving the toe straight into the bimbo's massive, muddy breasts.

Tina’s pornstaresque bouncy body absorbed the blow like body pillow, making the blonde squeal in pure, unadulterated agony.

I stood there, watching the violence unfold.

I was a sadist.

I knew that down to my very bone.

I thrived on breaking women, stripping away their dignity until they were nothing but obedient, dripping holes for my amusement.

But this?

This was just barbaric.

There was no… sophistication in her madness.

Daphne wasn't playing a psychological, erotic game with her slave.

She was just throwing a psychotic tantrum because she lost a point.

There was no finesse in kicking a defenseless, naked woman in the tits while she wallowed in the brown ooze.

I wouldn’t have done that to Sophie.

I would have come up with a fantastic psychological punishment for her, that would break her even more.

But this?

I couldn’t get hard from watching it.

It was just unpleasant.

Actually, I even felt a fleeting pang of pity for the giant-titted bimbo.

Tina had been reduced to a piece of meat, desperately trying to please her mistress. And the only reward she got was pain.

But those feelings of empathy were quickly swallowed by a massive, surging wave of absolute triumph.

I had won the first contest.

I was officially one step closer to keeping my app, keeping my entire harem of broken slaves… And, even better, I was one step closer to adding Daphne to the group.

The things I could do with her…

Maybe teach her some manners…

I looked at the British woman as she delivered one final, vicious kick to Tina's thick thighs.

I hoped it was the final one.

Soon, that arrogant, violent butch would be on her knees, licking my shoes like a good little bitch.

I would make her beg for it.

I would break her mind so thoroughly she’d forget she ever thought she was the alpha in the room.

Suddenly, a loud, grinding mechanical noise interrupted my dark fantasies.

Across the hall, a heavy steel door began to slide open, revealing a dimly lit corridor.

Right next to it, a much smaller, industrial door hissed open as well.

"The first contest is concluded," the AI voice boomed from the overhead speakers, its synthetic tone cutting through Tina's pathetic sobbing.

"Slaves, exit through the designated sub-door immediately. Users, proceed to the next chamber."

I narrowed my eyes, staring up at the speaker system.

The timing of this announcement was… suspicious.

It happened mere moments after Sophie had violently orgasmed against my shoe.

It was almost as if whoever was watching us on the security cameras wanted to make sure they saw the woman climax before moving the game along.

Hope they had fun.

They were probably sitting in some dark control room, jerking off to my brilliant handiwork.

Probably had been doing that somehow ever since I started using the app.

The thought made my skin crawl, but it also made me weirdly proud.

Let them watch.

I was putting on one hell of a show… so maybe I deserved an audience.

Let them wank.

I looked toward the smaller door designated for the slaves.

It was pitch black inside. I couldn't see a damn thing beyond the threshold.

A brief, paranoid urge told me to walk over and peek inside, to see where the app developers were hoarding my property.

But I squashed the thought.

If I pushed too hard, I might trigger some unseen penalty.

I couldn't risk it.

I looked down at Sophie.

She was still on her knees, her chest heaving, a thick mixture of mud and her own slick juices coating her inner thighs.

She looked absolutely wrecked.

I reached out and pulled her up.

I grabbed the rusted chain dangling between her thighs and gave it a brutal, unforgiving yank.

The thick silicone plug tore free from her asshole with a loud, sloppy pop.

Sophie whimpered, her knees buckling slightly as the sudden emptiness sent a shockwave through her nervous system.

I carelessly tossed the foul piece of hardware onto the concrete floor, drawing my hand back and swinging it forward, leaving a stinging slap to her muddy ass cheek.

SCHLAP!

She yelped, and turned to face me in confusion.

"You’re growing into a good, obedient little slavecunt. I’m proud of your progression."

Sophie flinched at the impact, but as the words registered, something shifted in her expression.

Beneath the thick layer of brown sludge, I could swear her pale cheeks flushed with a deep, humiliating blush.

Without a word, she turned and limped toward the dark sub-door.

Tina followed a moment later, crawling on her hands and knees because she was too bruised and battered to walk.

Daphne gave her ass a swift kick as she crawled away from her.

“When we get out of here, the only thing you will be eating is ass! For the rest of the year, you stupid cunt! You were always the most worthless one of the trio!” she shouted after her.

The blonde bimbo was weeping openly, rubbing her bruised ass, her massive breasts leaving a trail of mud on the concrete as she disappeared into the darkness.

The small door slammed shut behind them with a definitive, metallic clang.

It was just Daphne and me again.

Daphne wiped a streak of sweat from her forehead and ran a hand through her short black hair.

She took a deep breath, visibly composing herself.

When she turned to face me, her psychotic rage had completely vanished, replaced by that familiar, arrogant smirk.

"Right then," she said, her British accent thick and smooth. "On to the next one."

I nodded, keeping my face perfectly neutral.

We walked together toward the larger open door, our footsteps echoing in the empty hall.

We stepped through the threshold and entered the next room.

I stopped dead in my tracks, blinking in disbelief.

It looked like a hastily designed throne room pulled straight out of a cheap, medieval porn parody.

The walls were draped in heavy, dark red velvet curtains that looked like they hadn't been washed in a decade.

In the dead center of the room, sitting on a raised wooden dais, were two massive, gaudy chairs.

They were painted with cheap, peeling gold paint and upholstered with ratty leopard print fabric.

It was absurd.

It was theatrical.

It was becoming increasingly clear that this whole place was indeed a porn-set.

And we were the talent.

Daphne didn't hesitate for a single second.

She walked straight up the wooden steps and threw herself into the throne on the right.

She spread her legs wide, resting her combat boots on the edge of the dais, and draped her arms over the armrests.

"Oh, I am going to absolutely enjoy this one," she purred, her eyes gleaming with dark anticipation. “Hope you picked a good one for me.”

It was amazing.

There was no trace left of psychotic woman from just a moment ago.

She once again carried herself like she already owned the building.

I slowly walked up and took the throne on the left.

The cheap wood groaned under my weight. The velvet was scratchy against the back of my neck.

I felt ridiculous, but I also felt a surge of adrenaline.

Before either of us could say another word, two doors on opposite sides of the velvet-draped room hissed open.

From the door on the left, Michelle stepped out.

She was completely nude.

Her curvy, sexy body was trembling violently.

Her dark hair was a mess, falling around her terrified face.

She looked frantically around the bizarre room, her eyes wide with sheer panic.

She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

My previous order from the car—to shut the fuck up—was still holding her vocal cords hostage.

She just stood there, hyperventilating, her bare feet shifting anxiously on the cold floor.

From the door on the right, Daphne's second competitor emerged.

I stared at her, instantly captivated.

Unlike the massive, heavily modified bimbo from the first round, this woman looked entirely natural.

She had long, straight black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of midnight silk.

Her body was athletic, lean, and incredibly beautiful, with high, firm breasts and long, powerful legs.

And her eyes... her eyes were terrifying.

She wasn't looking around the room in panic like Michelle.

She was staring directly at Daphne.

Her dark eyes were burning with a deep, toxic, venomous resentment.

It was a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

But despite that hatred, she walked forward and stopped at the base of the dais. Very mechanically.

Michelle, on the other hand, was losing her mind.

She started jumping in place, waving her hands wildly, pointing at her own mouth in a desperate plea for me to let her speak.

I let out an annoyed sigh.

I couldn't have her acting like a hysterical child right now.

I stood up from the throne, walked down the steps, and grabbed Michelle by the shoulders.

I dug my fingers hard into her soft flesh, holding her firmly in place.

"Calm down," I commanded, my voice low and dangerous.

"Stop moving. Stop panicking. Just breathe. It will all make sense soon," I lied.

Michelle gasped, her chest heaving against my chest. Her green eyes stared up at me, brimming with terrified tears.

She whimpered softly, a trapped animal accepting its cage.

I guided her to the base of the dais, right next to the black-haired woman.

I walked back up the steps and sat heavily back down on my cheap gold throne.

Daphne leaned her head against the back of her chair, turning to look at me with a sly, calculating grin.

"Well, well," Daphne drawled. "I feel like there’s some serious history there. You didn’t even call her a cunt or anything."

I didn't reply. I just stared straight ahead.

"I told you about my slave first last time," Daphne reminded me, her tone dripping with mock fairness. "It's only polite you return the favor, Jack. Who is this nervous creature?"

I looked down at Michelle.

She was staring at the floor, her mouth muttering without sound.

I considered lying.

I could make up some story about her being a random barista, or a neighbor I kidnapped.

But what was the tactical advantage in lying?

What could I gain with that in this situation?

If anything, it was more likely she would catch my lie and I’d lose my chance to convince her of some other bullshit later.

Better just to go with the truth.

"She's my ex-wife," I said flatly.

Daphne's eyebrows shot up.

A wide, genuinely delighted smile broke across her face.

"Oh, brilliant!" Daphne laughed, clapping her hands together. "Fucking brilliant, mate. You enslaved your ex-wife? That is top-tier revenge fantasy shit!"

I decided to continue. "She left me. She divorced me so she could marry my best friend."

Michelle flinched visibly, a fresh tear rolling down her cheek.

That was quite a reaction.

Maybe the “Sorry baby” trait acting up?

No, wait, the traits weren’t active here.

It didn’t matter.

I decided to leave out the part where my best friend was a woman. It might be better if Daphne wasn’t prepared for her lesbian talents.

Daphne let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Game respects game, Jack," she nodded. "That is poetic justice at its finest. Have you made her apologize for her mistake in all sorts of demeaning ways?"

Me and Michelle exchanged glances.

Before I had the opportunity to answer, the PA system crackled to life.

KRZZZZZT.

"Users," the AI voice announced, instantly silencing the room. "The rules for the second contest will now be explained."

I gripped the armrests of the throne.

"Both contestants will remain seated in their respective thrones," the voice instructed.

"The objective of this duel is endurance. It is a test of physical control and mental fortitude. It will also test the sexual skills and submission of the chosen slave.”

Daphne and me already knew what this would be.

Michelle didn’t.

"The user’s slave will administer oral sex to the opposing user," the voice declared coldly.

Michelle’s eyes widened.

The black-haired woman didn’t relent on her deathstare towards Daphne.

"The users are strictly forbidden from touching the competitors in any way during the process. Your hands must remain on the armrests."

The AI paused, letting the heavy implications hang in the air.

"The first user to achieve orgasm... loses the contest."

It was a game of extreme edging.

The first one to break, the first one to spill their load, lost the point.

I looked down at Michelle.

I knew she wanted to shout. To scream. To panic. But she couldn’t even do that, because I just ordered her not to.

I had agonized over who to pick.

I wanted someone with a good amount of cunnilingus experience.

It was a toss-up between Michelle and Ulla.

But I had decided that Ulla would fit another, upcoming contest much better.

So, I chose Michelle.

Michelle, who had spent the last few years married to a woman.

Michelle, who had practically majored in eating pussy since she divorced me.

She was going to bury her face between Daphne's thighs, and she was going to use every lesbian trick she had learned with Maddy to make this woman cum her brains out.

I wanted to believe that.

Yeah, sure, it was probably Maddy who usually went down on the demanding bitch, but surely not all the time? At least not on Maddy’s birthday?

I looked over at the black-haired woman standing next to Michelle.

She was going to be sucking my cock.

I hadn't had a blowjob from a resentful, angry woman in... well, had to be a couple of days now.

It was going to be hot, but I knew I could hold out.

I had been cumming a lot lately, so it wasn’t like I was blueballed. I had to have some experience in retention by now.

"Well," Daphne said, her voice cutting through the silence. Her tone was tight, strained.

She looked down at the black-haired woman with the venomous eyes.

"I suppose I should share too," Daphne muttered.

She leaned forward, pointing a finger at the scarred woman.

"Jack, I want you to meet Chloe," Daphne said, her accent thick with a dark malice.

I looked at Chloe.

The pure hatred in her eyes was practically radioactive.

"Chloe is a very special girl," Daphne continued, a cruel smile slowly returning to her face.

She looked over at me, her eyes locking onto mine.

"She's my little sister."

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