Servalan walked through the door to her suite and smiled. These were accommodations befitting her status as a Sovereign Minister. However, now she relaxed, she would be just plain Servalan and left the cares of the Ministry behind her. The accommodations were still to her liking, they reminded her of the hotel she stayed at for that special weekend.

She lay back on the elegantly upholstered, exquisitely comfortable, chaise. The thought of that weekend stirred Servalan, her hand moved down to her crotch. She needed something, a quick orgasm would be perfect for her now. She was ready, she thought of her favorite fantasy. Torturing political prisoners in a dungeon, that one always got her there in a hurry. She hadn’t had that pleasure for real, for years, during the revolution was the last time. It hadn’t been long before the new regime had put a stop to that. One of the many things she intended to change if she could get to be Prime Minister.

The fantasy was doing its work, she reached for the hem of her gown, then …

• Compatible partner available.

She was jarred out of her fantasy by that. In a most aggravated tone, she said to thin air, “What! Show yourself, so I can talk to you!”

To Servalan, a man in an old fashioned dinner jacket, white tie, and white gloves, appeared in front of her. To any other observer, there was nothing there. This was the personification of her int, her neural interface, she called him ‘Jeaves’. Most people in the system had had an int implanted shortly after birth and were used to the interaction. In fact, most people didn’t even realize they were interacting with an int, it was so natural to them.

Servalan had only had hers implanted a few days earlier. She was the only one on her planet to have one, so she could open up relations with the system. She was anything but used to its creepy messages. She’d insisted it show itself in a manner she could interact normally with. Direct interaction with the int was usually discouraged, but in this case there was no other way.

It was her int that had found the image of her preferred accommodations, and the accommodation unit’s effector had patterned the furnishings on that. The effector was the machine which performed what looked like magic. It could do literally anything inside the accommodation unit.

Jeaves appeared in front of her, and asked, “Yes Minister?”

“You’re snooping on me? This is personal?”

Jeaves had an unflappable demeanor. This was seen as the best way to deal with their difficult charge. “It would be impossible for me to snoop Minister, I’m part of you.”

“But it private, can’t I turn you off?”

Jeaves, unusually, looked puzzled. “That would negate the function of an int. Nothing can be private from your int, its job is to know your most intimate desires so they can be fulfilled.”

“But, …” The implications of his statement sank in. “You could fulfill that desire?”

“Yes Minister. As I indicated, a compatible partner is available.”

“There’s someone who wants to do that?”

“I can’t speak to their motivations, but their desires align with yours. There were 751 potential partners identified, one has been selected as most compatible.” There were somewhere around a thousand billion people in the system. At any time, there were billions who might be desiring a partner. Of those billions, less than a thousand might want to be on the receiving end of her fantasy. In times past, she would have been unbelievably lucky to have found any of them.

The system, was always trying to match people. The machines could provide any imaginable experience, but they wanted humans to interact with each other, not with machines. She was trying to grasp the concept. “You’re a dating service as well?”

“We strive to fulfill your every desire. Often that is achieved by matching compatible partners.”

“You could get me someone I could do that to?” She wasn’t sure she was understanding this.

“Yes Minister.”

She thought of the downside, “But if word of this ever got out, it could ruin me.”

“They are willing to have a block installed in their int, so they could never communicate anything which happened, without your permission.”

“You could guarantee this would be a secret?”

“Yes Minister.”

The prospect was just too tempting for Servalan, against her better judgement, she said, “OK. How does this work now?”

“We will deliver them to you.”

She didn’t know what that meant in actuality. “How long will that take?”

“He can be here in less than a minute.”

“Oh.” She was surprised. She should get ready, but how do you get ready to torture a political prisoner.

She looked down at her gown. Jeaves spoke, “If your attire is not to your liking, I can arrange for anything else you desire.”

“Yeah, sure.” She was getting used to the dressing thing, but for now the gown was suitable for her purposes. It was brilliant white, and slinky. It clung to her curves in a most pleasing manner, a few folds of fabric around her neck added gravitas. “This is fine.”

“They’re here Minister.” Jeaves’ announcement was unexpectedly quick, her pulse quickened and her mouth dried.

She stood up, still not sure what to expect. “OK.” The door burst open, and unseen hands propelled a man into the room, he fell onto the floor and lay still.

She approached the man and poked him with the heavy hide whip she had in her hand. She did a double take, she had a whip in her hand. It hadn’t been there a moment before, but it was part of her fantasy. It must be the int again, it did things like that, she hadn’t gotten used to that. Jeaves chimed in from the side, “Yes Minister, we placed the shamback in your hand.”

She recognized the whip, about a meter long, the handle was thick enough to comfortably fill her grip, it tapered some to the tip. It was used by herdsmen herding sham-dear on her planet. It was one of the few things to make an impression on their thick hide. On a person, it could be quite devastating. The new regime had banned its use by the security services for crowd control. Again, a decision she wanted to change.

She poked the man again, there was a reaction. “Look at me!”

The man cowered, but looked up at her.

“Do you know who I am?” He nodded. “Speak!” She commanded.

“Yes, you’re the woman from the new planet.”

“I’m not just any woman! I’m a Sovereign Minister of the Planet of New Boston!” Her status was important to her, she never let anyone forget it.

“Yes mistress.”

Infuriated, Servalan kicked the guy. He yelped satisfyingly and flipped onto his back from the force of the kick. The room’s effector had significantly mitigated the effect of the kick, but magnified its effect. True to their prime directive, her shoe had never contacted him, a forcefield with a blunter profile was what moved him. His int activated a few pain receptors to give the impression the kick had landed.

The machines’ prime directive was “A machine must not harm a human, or through inaction allow a human to be harmed.” BDSM scenes caused particular (metaphorical) heartburn to the machines. To deny their desires would be harm, they could allow harmless pain, but physical effects would be mitigated. Usually, the subjects didn’t know they were being mitigated.

“I am not your mistress, ‘Minister’ is the correct form of address.”

“Yes, Minister.” He said meekly.

She brandished the whip, he cowered again. A thought from her fantasy struck her, ‘could you do that?’ She aimed the thought at the int. Jeaves now appeared standing on the other side of the guy on the floor, spoke, “Yes Minister, we could arrange that.” The guy didn’t hear the conversation, Jeaves was all in Servalan’s head.

“Do you know what this is?” Brandishing the whip again.

The guy looked puzzled, and hesitantly said, “A whip?”

“This is not just any whip, it’s a ‘neuronic whip’, it not only whips you, it activates your pain receptors. On the right setting I can make every pain receptor in your body fire.” He digested the information. “On level three it will probably kill you.” The guy looked satisfyingly frightened at that prospect, Servalan decided it was time to start the action. “Tell me of the rebel positions!”

Obviously a non-sequitur, flavor for the scene. He reacted appropriately, “Never, I’ll never talk.”

“OK, tie him up!” Her fantasy was not distinct at this point, how the victim got shackled to the dungeon wall. However, the effector helped out, the guy was picked up and slammed face first against the wall. Shackles appeared, and he was now immobilized.

It was then Servalan noticed the wall was the dingy wall of the dungeon from her fantasy. She was in the dingy dungeon, no longer in her plush suite. “Hey!” She complained at her int.

Understanding her annoyance, Jeaves spoke, “We’re sorry Minister, it will take a moment to restore the suite to your liking.”

As she stood there the surroundings mutated and the suite began to reappear. She said aloud, “Keep the wall.” She liked the dungeon wall the guy was attached to, even if it were out of place in amid the sumptuous surroundings.

The guy was confused as to what was going on, but didn’t speak. She considered him and the whip in her hand. She gave a tentative swish in mid air. It was heavy, she wasn’t built to wield this weapon. Jeaves helpfully advised her, “We can help with augmenting the blows if necessary.”

She smiled and nodded in acknowledgement to the phantom butler. This would surprise the dirty rebel, getting into character there. She swung the whip lightly, it thudded across the guy’s back. He hardly reacted to the blow. He still had his shirt on, that was spoiling things. That should get ripped off, then with a renting sound the shirt was ripped from his back, again by unseen hands. She could get used to this she thought, unseen helping hands, really useful.

The guy flinched at the assault. Servalan picked up the whip in both hands and tried putting some more effort into it. There was a satisfying thud against bare flesh, her victim gasped slightly. A red mark appeared across his back. The mark was an illusion, but she didn’t know that. That was more like it, this was what she wanted. She tried again, putting all the strength she could muster into the blow. The smack was much sharper, he yelped in pain, and a very evil looking mark appeared on his back.

This was it. This was her fantasy, the reality was even better. Her pussy was definitely moist. She thought at her int, ‘help me, make it that hard.’ Then she swung the whip easily and it had the same effect. The same effect on him and her, she felt the excitement radiate from her pussy. A few more blows, a few more yelps, and she was panting. Not from effort, from excitement.

Time to turn things up, she thought, ‘make the whip minimally neuronic’. “If you won’t talk, see how you like this!” Again, she swung the same sharp smack as it hit him. This time there was some blue arcing from the whip, and he screamed. It was definitely a tortured scream, she felt it in her pussy, like she was getting oral from the mouths of damned souls. In actuality, the int was cheating a bit it was firing nerve endings in her pussy and clit to help her come. They wanted her satisfied before she killed the guy. She was concerned, “Won’t the neighbors hear?” She asked Jeaves who still appeared to her to be standing, unflappable, to her side.

“No, we control all energy in the room, that includes sound. It does not propagate to the walls.” Perfect. Perfect privacy, she liked what this system could do for her.

Twice more she hit him, twice more the tortured scream reverberated in her pussy. She was close. Gasping for breath, she panted, “If you won’t talk, how about level two?”

He reacted, “No, please, anything but that, I can’t take any more, I’ll talk.” The pathetic pleas felt like a tongue sliding across her clit. (The int was cheating again.)

She cackled, “I don’t care if you talk, I just want to do this!” ‘Level two’ she thought at her int. The blow landed in a shower of blue arcs, his scream was blood curdling, to her it was the most erotic sound she’d ever heard. She was panting, she was very, very, close. She hit him again, the tongues of a choir of the damned played on her pussy and clit.

‘Full power.’ She thought. “Level three, try it!”

“Nooo!” he screamed. The scream played over her clit, she started to come as she swung the whip with all the force she could muster. There was an explosion of fireworks, the force of it knocked her back onto the chaise. His scream was the most satisfying yet, the most skilled torturer could never draw such a beautiful scream from his victim. It played over her clit as she lay there, body wracked in spasms as the most powerful orgasm she had ever had overcame her. Meanwhile, her victim fell silent and hung limply against his bonds.

As she recovered she looked up weakly and saw the still form of the man. “Throw the trash out, Jeaves.” She said to the spectral form.

“Yes Minister.” He said, as the guy’s bonds disappeared, and the unseen hands bundled him out of the room.

She idly thought, ‘I need to get to the bed.’ But, the prospect of actually getting up and walking to the bed was such an unsurmountable obstacle at that point.

“No need to stir yourself.” Jeaves said. A force field formed under her to support her, and blankets formed around her to snuggle in. She was asleep before she could think of a reply. (Her int cheated a bit and helped her into unconsciousness.)

Servalan woke, she felt marvelous. Rested, contented, comfortable, happy, at peace. The events of the previous evening came back to her, she smiled. This place did have its compensations. She stretched, she noticed she was naked as the exquisitely soft blankets dragged across her breast. ‘You did that.’ She thought, more a statement than a question.

“Yes minister.” The image of Jeaves appeared to her, standing by the bedside. She was forming an accusation when he continued, “I did not undress you, your clothes were dematerialized. I would not ogle you, I am part of you, it would be as if you looked upon yourself.” She couldn’t think of a logical response to that, but a robe appeared around her as the bed dissolved, and she was sitting on the chaise. Jeaves ventured, “I shall serve breakfast.”

His proactive meeting of her needs and desires still startled Servalan, but she definitely thought she could get used this. Jeaves served the breakfast she would have asked for, if she’d thought what she wanted for a while. The breakfast was, as usual delicious. These people knew how to cook, she thought. Jeaves didn’t disabuse her of this notion, the best examples of a dish ever created were the templates for the food. The effector had replayed a template by arranging the atoms in the food.

While she was eating, Jeaves announced, “Travis is calling.”

“Who?” She wasn’t used to their use of only personal names. Jeaves had explained that usually the message from the int would convey the appropriate information so you’d know who was referred to. She still wasn’t used to this.

“The person you tortured last night.”

Her pussy throbbed at the memory, but she said, “Why would I want to speak to him?” Jeaves terminated the call and she continued with breakfast.

Jeaves again interrupted, “Travis sent a message, the message says, ‘Thank you, Minister.'”

“What does he mean by that?”

“I am not privy to that information.” Travis’s int would know, but that was personal to Travis. She was puzzled by the message, she couldn’t imagine that anyone would thank her for that treatment, there must be some subtext she was missing.

That question preyed on her mind for the day, so sometime mid afternoon she thought ‘Could you invite Travis to tea at four in my suite.’

“Certainly, Minister.” Replied Jeaves. Shortly after he said, “He has accepted your invitation.”

Shortly before four, she was in her suite wondering why she felt nervous. She wore a similar gown to yesterday, but this one was lower cut, and it was split up the side. She examined the hair and makeup job Jeaves had arranged, again marvelously efficient and artful. Her black hair was, as usual, closely cropped, looking rather masculine. She atypically accepted Jeaves’ offer of a little scent.

She wanted the home advantage for this encounter, so she had the suite arranged like her office in the ministry. She sat behind a large imposing wooden desk. Jeaves announced, “Travis is at the door.”

“Show him in.”

Jeaves led in a rather uncertain looking Travis, Servalan hardly recognized him from the night before, he had been just a body to abuse. She didn’t want a pathetic heap on her hands, so she barked, “Stand up straight! Be a man! Or I’ll throw you out again.”

A startled Travis jerked upright and looked her in the eye with a steady gaze.

“Better.” She looked him up and down, he was a good specimen, tasty. “Now sit!” She indicated the chair in front of her desk, she sat in her position of power, secure. “What did your message mean?”

He looked puzzled, “I, I, I was thanking you for last night, what else?” She could think of plenty else it might mean, from “Screw you” to “I’m going to ruin you”. New Boston politics was a rough business.

“Why would you thank me for that?” She sounded as incredulous as she felt.

“It was the most fulfilling night of my life.”

She heard the words, she didn’t hear any sense. “But I tortured you.”

“Yes, it was truly horrible.”

Baffled, “You’re going to have to explain. From the beginning.”

“Well, …, for a long time I’ve had a fantasy. I would be kidnapped by a cruel, harsh bitc… woman.” He paused, and looked down, “Sorry.” He didn’t want to insult the Minister

Servalan though it fair comment, “Continue.”

“The, …, woman would use and abuse me for her pleasure, torturing me, I had to endure the unendurable. Only to be discarded after she was satisfied.”

Servalan was even more puzzled, “Why would you want that?”

“I don’t know, but it always turns me on so much when I think of it. I come so hard when I do. I was day dreaming about it yesterday when I knew a match had been found. I’ve had matches before, but never gone through with the idea, but then I had to agree to a block so I could never talk about it. It would be a secret, no one would ever know, I couldn’t resist.”

She interrupted, “Its you who’s blocked, not me.”

“But if you want me blocked, you’re not going to talk.” Servalan saw the logic there. “So I was suddenly picked up bodily and held until I was bundled into your presence. You were just so perfect, so regal, so beautiful, so … heartless. Sorry.”

Again, she wasn’t perturbed by the comment, “Continue!”

“I was going to be whipped, and there was nothing I could do about it, I was in your power. It was perfect. Then, you told me of the neuronic whip, I knew I couldn’t endure that. I was really to endure the unendurable. I was terrified and turned on at once. Then, you started, the first few blows were disappointing, they didn’t hurt at all.” Servalan was annoyed by the mention of her failure.

She glared at Travis, he shrank some, but carried on, “But you more than made up for it, the blows became increasingly painful. I couldn’t stand it, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Then, you turned on the whip. That was truly horrible, like all the skin on my back was repeatedly flayed. No one could stand that for long, least of all me. Then, you turned it up, my skin was flayed and I was on fire all at once, and the pain didn’t stop, I couldn’t do anything. I was truly powerless, my life was in your hands. I would have done anything, said anything to make it stop, but you didn’t.”

“Then that final terrible blow. The pain before that was nothing compared to this, it was really truly unendurable. I endured it long enough to hear you come. I had fulfilled you. You had fulfilled me. I could slip into unconsciousness content. I loved you.” Servalan was startled by the last statement, but his passion made the nonsense he was spouting make some weird grotesque sense.

“I woke this morning, totally content. My soul was light, I knew I loved you. I will do anything for you. I would even let you whip me on level three, even though it would kill me.” Servalan was shocked by the intensity and honesty of what he said. She knew he was right that level three would kill him. She didn’t think to wonder how she knew that, it was a fiction planted by their ints to moderate their interactions some.

She didn’t know what to say, but her pussy was demanding her attention. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself the luxury of a man. New Boston politics made that difficult. Here was a totally compliant man, who couldn’t talk. The prospect was tempting. “Stand up!” He did.

Definitely tasty. He’d look better without clothes. Sounds of ripping fabric filled the air as the, oh so handy, unseen hands ripped off his clothes. He stood before her desk, naked and erect. The account of last night obviously affected him as much as her.

She rose and walked around the desk, the whip was in her hand again. She had a thought, then she thought to Jeaves, ‘Can you do that?’

“We can do that.” Jeaves, visible only to her, said that.

She walked around Travis, she liked what she saw. She made an obvious move to manipulate the whip, a soft hum emanated from it. “What do you think would happen if I touched you there?” She indicated to his erect penis with the whip.

“No, please, anything but that, I’ll do anything, please, no.” He pleaded desperately, but did not make a move to stop her. His pleas didn’t fall on deaf ears, they excited her further.

She touched the whip to his erection, he stiffened in anticipation, the was a small arc as it touched. Then, he gasped, spasmed, come sprayed out of his penis into mid air only to fall on the carpet, then he sank to his knees. “Wha?” He tried to ask a question in his confusion.

“The whip can also stimulate other receptors. In this case, the pleasurable ones. You’ll never know what to expect from the whip.”

She grabbed the back of his neck and forced him face down into the carpet, where his come was soaking into it. Literally rubbing his nose in it. “I never said you could come! Now lick it up.”

He set about the gross task. He didn’t think that the ints and the effector conspired to sterilize what he was licking. Even if he had thought of that it was still an unpleasant task. He willing performed it at her behest, he was serious when he said he’d do anything for her.

While he worked, Servalan thought the room back to its hotel room configuration. She was getting used to doing that, she reclined on the chaise and let her dress fall open. She wished her panties away, and opened her legs. She was now full on displaying herself to Travis who was still licking the come off the carpet.

“Stop that! I have a much better use for your tongue.” Travis looked up and saw her pointing to her pussy with the whip. So began Servalan and Travis’s “relationship”. The machines were pleased as much as machines can be that they’d successfully matched another human pair. Servalan loved playing with her new toy, he was most satisfying. Travis was content he was serving his cold heartless bitch as best he could.

Their play evolved, became somewhat ritualistic. The political prisoner was a favorite of Servalan’s. Travis didn’t have a favorite, he suffered. Another favorite was the space commander. “Space Commander Travis” was a stoic hero, but he had screwed up (in some unspecified manner), and “Supreme Commander Servalan” got to punish him. The stoic hero had to remain stoic throughout. If the hero cried out, or screamed the scene would be over. Travis could stop the action anytime, but then suffered the disdain of Servalan, and the pain of failure. Servalan became an expert on exactly how far she could push Travis.

Servalan was feeling something needed to change. “You’ve failed me for the last time, Space Commander.” Travis looked up startled, she sounded different. “Go fetch the whip.” She looked to the buffet at the side of the room. She’d willed the whip to appear there. It was a ritual humiliation to make Travis fetch the object of his torture. True to the character he had to play, he did not complain, he stayed mute. As he picked up the whip, she said, “Lets see how you like level three.”

He was startled, but tried not to show it. In a level voice he said, “Supreme Commander, that will kill me.”

“I know.”

He knelt and presented the whip to servalan. She pointed him to the middle of the room, he took his position. She motioned up with the whip, he raised his arms. Invisible bonds grabbed him around the wrists and lifted him bodily off the floor. More invisible bonds grabbed his ankles, the bonds tightened so he was splayed in mid air.

Servalan sauntered over to the helpless Travis. She willed the splayed Travis rotate in mid air, displaying him from all angles. His body was to her liking. He was now clad in skin tight leather trousers and a short sleeved leather tunic with a padded leather breastplate. Her fantasy space commander uniform. She’d willed his clothes to mutate while he was fetching the whip.

He rotated back to face her, her clothes had changed as well. She was now clad in a white cape, lined in deep read. The cape opened as if blown by a phantom gust of wind, again something she’d willed. She was naked under the cloak. Travis’s eyes widened, she was amused at his reaction.

She swung the whip against the breastplate, the breastplate did its job and protected him from the blow. He didn’t react. “Hmm.” She mused in mock contemplation, then tapped the breastplate, like the whip was a wand. It was her magic wand, the breastplate was ripped away, leaving the tunic flapping open. She made to strike with the whip again, Travis stayed impassive.

She aborted the strike, “Hmm.” Again, then tapped at his waistband. The trousers disappeared, he was now mostly naked. His erection betrayed his state of mind at the events. She had him rotate again, as his back turned to her, she swung playfully at his buttocks. He moved with the blow, and stiffened slightly. Not much of a reaction from him. A faint red mark appeared on his behind.

As he rotated around to present his front to her, so he could see her, she said, “I shall miss your body when you’re dead.”

His buttocks again presented themselves, she swung the whip, this time with level one neuronic effects. There was the usual arcing and his body writhed in agony. He did not cry out. “Level one.” She announced.

He rotated back to face her, she stopped the rotation. She drew the whip (without neuronic enhancement) through her pussy lips, it glistened where her lips had touched, it. She poked the tip of the whip inside her slightly, it came out wet. She held the tip up to his nose, he breathed deeply of her scent. “See what you do to me? I can’t let any man do that to me. You’ll have to go.” He watched her impassively.

She raised the whip and struck him across the chest, this time on the pleasure setting. His body jerked as the unexpected wave of pleasure spread across him. A smile flickered across his face, but quickly left, back to the impassive expression.

She turned him around, three quick blows: Level one neuronic; pleasure; level one neuronic. The remains of the tunic was no protection. His body jerked against the bonds, writhing in pain and pleasure.

Back to face her, beads of perspiration spread across his chest and on his forehead. She was also sweating and panting, from lust, not the exertion. When he could see, she penetrated her pussy with the handle of the whip. She really wanted his penis to penetrate her instead, but she couldn’t let herself be so vulnerable to a man again. He tried to remain impassive but flickers of interest, and lust, flitted across his face.

She extracted the whip, and grasped the slimy handle. She replaced it with the fingers of her other hand. “Lets see what you think of level two.” She rotated him again, then struck him with level two neuronic. Three quick blows, across his back, buttocks and legs. His body was wracked with spasms. More perspiration was evident.

He rotated back again. His eyes were dull, he couldn’t take much more. “Since you aren’t going to be around to tell, I can do this and no one will know.” With that she dropped to her knees in front of him and took his penis into her mouth. She loved the feeling of power this gave her, she loved the feeling and taste of the smooth hard penis in her mouth. But too soon she stopped.

She got back to her feet, his expression had perked up. She said to him, “The next will be level 3, what have you to say to that.”

“You are undoubtedly the sexiest officer I have ever known.” His response was unexpected, and he betrayed his emotion for once, Servalan was surprised. He continued, “I am yours to do with as you wish, Goodbye, Servalan.” He was back to his usual stoicism, that statement betrayed little emotion. The total servitude it expressed gave her a thrill which ran through her pussy (her int was cheating again). She was close to coming, then next blow should do it. The thought of killing him was intoxicating, she felt it pounding in her pussy. She raised the whip, she had the ultimate power of life or death over Travis. She had a decision she had to make. To kill him or not, her pussy was saying kill.

She raised the whip, and was just about to unleash its terrible power, when the lights flickered and went out. There was a thud as Travis fell to the floor, free of his bonds. Emergency lighting lit the room only dimly. Travis looked up as Servalan advanced on him, whip in hand glowing evilly in the dim light. Suddenly free his stoicism dissolved, he leapt up and ran for the door.

Servalan saw the terror and desperation in his eyes, and a thrill ran through her pussy (not entirely the int’s doing). She staggered slightly at that, allowing Travis to reach the door. With an evil cackle she loped after the fleeing space commander, panting heavily. He fled down the corridor and through the door at the end, bursting into daylight.

The daylight and a flight of pigeons that he disturbed disoriented Travis temporarily, allowing Servalan to catch up. She advanced on his slowly, the whip humming and arcing. Looking around for escape Travis saw he was on a roof, against a parapet. There was no where to go, the next building was an impossible leap, the ground twenty stories below him.

Their eyes met. The abject terror in Travis’ eyes was a powerful drug for Servalan. She raised the whip to strike him. Travis bolted over the parapet, in a desperate attempt to make the next building. His scream as he fell played over her pussy and she came. Her legs buckled under her.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was in her suite, reclining on the chaise. She mused, that she definitely did like the benefits of this technology. She was going to have to use that scenario again. Travis was not dead, as the machines had pursued their prime directive. Much of the final scene was illusory, they had never left Servalan’s accommodation unit. It was no less real to either party though. He was despondent that he didn’t love her enough to let her kill him. He kept stoically coming back for more.

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