EXTRACT FOR
Gybot Slaves: The Assistant
(Jon Barry)

      A hot, reasonless anger surged through Delorne.  He very nearly slapped the little slave.  He could imagine perfectly the arc of his hand flying through the air, the sharp, satisfying crack of it against her cheek.  The sweet, piercing sound of her pain...

      But no.  His hand would leave a mark that would take a day or two to heal.  Sareen would be angry if he did that; she liked taking the gybots out for mid-day walks, or using them to serve drinks and appetizers when they entertained.  In the elevated social circles the Delornes moved in, a gybot marked or otherwise injured by an angry hand was a sure sign of an uncontrollable temper, and therefore lower-class sensibilities. It would cost them in desirable invitations for the Spring season.  Delorne shrugged off the brief spasm of rage, but he let its remnants color his voice as he growled at Rillie.  "Don't lie to me, you little slut.  You can't stand not being able to finger yourself.  Nasty bitch.  I know how you lie in your kennel at night frigging that hot little slit of yours.  Crying out as you cum, squirting your dirty juices all over your pillow."

      He curled and uncurled his finger with a sharp rhythm as he spoke, making Rillie squeak and shiver, silver tears leaking from her huge eyes.  Delorne knew that the tremors wracking her body were small orgasms, strong enough to rob her of speech.  A properly-tuned gybot could be made to cum explosively from something so minor as the sensation of a feather whispering over her skin, or from a hard spanking on the ass, or simply being roughly spoken to...sensitive little Rillie barely needed any tuning at all.   Delorne smiled as her naked toes dug into the carpet, her tiny, perfect teeth chattering noisily, erasing her protests as her head fell back and her eyes rolled up.  Her finely-tooled cunt-muscles were gripping and ungripping his finger so strongly that they might well have cracked the bones.