Ai No Kusabi Fan Fiction ❯ Ai o Juten ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Eight

When Iason arrived at his abode that evening, Riki was awaiting him. This time, he knew that there had been no misbehaviour. He dismissed Daryl after sparing a moment to look the furniture over carefully, then reached out to take the mongrel pet by the wrist.

Riki stepped back.

At first, Iason believed his behaviour was pre-meditated, but one look at those glittering eyes revealed that Riki hadn't expected the defiance either. His eyes were wide, his bottom lip trembled, and yet even as he realised what he had done, the determination to resist settled in him. Iason saw it so clearly: the trembling lip changed to a slight snarl, his eyes narrowed, and the pet pulled his arms into his body in unconscious refusal.

Riki stepped back again, and Iason didn't bother to pursue him, but activated the pet ring with a silent sigh. Not for punishment, not now. But at a high enough level of pleasure that it would almost be pain, enough so that Riki cried out and fell to his hands and knees, immobile, his hot breath fogging the cool shiny marble of Iason's floor. Iason did not move.

“You will not refuse me, pet,” he observed coolly.

To his surprise, as if he were already conditioned, which in some ways perhaps he was, Riki immediately scrambled to assume the position, sitting back, legs spread as he lowered a hand to touch himself, his face a contorted picture of blissful agony. It immediately cancelled out Iason's displeasure and made the desire flare in him.

“No,” Iason admonished patiently, slightly amused, seeing Riki's hand stop, suddenly still. “You know what I want. Come to me, pet.”

With an aching sound of despair, the mongrel crawled forward on all fours, head hanging between his shoulders like a disciplined dog. His body undulated helplessly, courtesy of the high level of stimulation. As a reward, Iason lowered it a little. As a synchronous lesson, he gave Riki a command that he knew the slumdog would hate.

“Lick my boots,” he said, his tone of voice neutral but expectant. When the pet did not immediately respond, he upped the stimulation once more. Riki shuddered and groaned, but dipped his head, unable to resist the command, his tongue poking out to lap gently at the shiny white patent leather, moaning helplessly.

It was a dark dusky pink and shiny wet with saliva. So organic. As Iason watched, he saw something in the pet become subdued and tamed. His moans subsided to quiet, horrified whimpers.

“We shall begin with this act each evening,” he noted. “Until you accept your place at my feet. My Riki...”

Iason had used the name deliberately, and at the sound of it, the pet looked up, tongue still peeking out from between his lips. “Very well,” Iason said, “that is enough. Stand up.”

Riki struggled to his feet, but then instead of standing still, he reached up to slide his arms around Iason's neck and just leaned on him, his body heavy. For the briefest moment, Iason was certain he was the recipient of Riki's affection until he remembered the ring was still working on him and this was actually an unconscious plea for relief. He deactivated it, little by little, and little by little, Riki withdrew from him, his face flushed at his lack of self-control.

At last now, he took the pet's wrist to lead him to the bedroom. Iason had been denied the pleasure of the mongrel's body for long enough, and he very much wanted to feel it again. This experiment they were engaged in was extremely dangerous. The risk had to be worth it.

“Fuck, no! I don't want to!” Riki protested loudly, speaking for the first time, apparently having found his voice, trying to extricate his wrist from Iason's grip. “I'm not this thing you want me to be! Can't you see that?”

Iason merely dragged Riki along behind him, barely noting his struggles. When he had closed and locked the door he let the pet go, and it scrambled into a corner, eyes wild, knowing already there was no escape.

“I know exactly what you are,” Iason told him patiently as he settled on the side of the bed. “Now come here and hold out your hands.” It seemed there was no getting away from the chains. The pet clearly needed them. For now, at least.

Iason held out those chains, and Riki hesitated, his gaze still flitting around as if he might see somewhere to hide. He held his wrist in his other hand as if it pained him. “Pet, we both know I will have you where I want you one way or the other. For now, all you have to do is decide how much you will do of your own volition.”

If Riki had behaved the day before, they could have started this journey all the sooner. As it was, it would begin now. Iason remained motionless, waiting, and eventually Riki crept slowly forward. Clearly, he was fighting his own better judgement all the way. Iason did not move or speak, so as not to endanger the precarious obedience the pet was displaying.

Iason knew his stillness was not that of a human. It was total and absolute, unnatural. He was a statue, and he knew that even if Riki didn't realise it, somewhere his brain would be unable to properly respond to the danger Iason represented.

Many, many centuries ago, when the first forebears of androids were made on earth, there had been a well-documented emotional response in humans to those machines. Many years away from being independent, or even useful, the closer they resembled their human counterparts, the less favourable the response. Until perfection made them indistinguishable, and the humans reacted positively again. It had been plotted on a graph, showing a dip which was named 'The Uncanny Valley'

It was a similar psychological weakness that Iason exploited now. In primates, where there was no instinctive fear, the next base response was curiosity, even when they knew fear was logical. It was one of those quirks of human behaviour that made them easy to manage, and so easy for Jupiter to rule over. All he had to do was wait.

Iason might have been made in the image of man, but he wasn't one. He was a machine, and Riki was inferior to him in so many ways it was laughable. The pet was fascinating, yes, and unpredictable, perhaps even dangerous in the right circumstances. But he was also easy, and this proved it, because it was exactly the same as waiting for a wild animal to approach. Eventually Riki stood before him where he was seated on the bed, hands held out hesitant, open as if to touch Iason's face. Iason let it happen, and did not even blink.

He let Riki's fingers stroke over his skin, over his perfectly designed cheekbones, drag through the length of his hair. The mongrel's thumb on his lower lip, pressing. All of the Blondies were the epitome of the human ideal of beauty, this Iason knew without a doubt. Some averages had been employed in their design, but what was true, remained so. The pet could not help feeling desire. Iason knew it for a fact.

Of them all, as Jupiter's favourite, he had always assumed himself to be the best; the most serene countenance, the most perfectly proportioned symmetrical features. Humans adored symmetry in all things, on some deep primal level. They, the Blondies, were meant to appear as the mythical Angels of antiquity, to inspire the same fervent worshipful fear, the same superstitious dread. Riki's jibe about them all looking the same had wounded his pride, even if the mongrel himself did not know it.

“Say something,” Riki said nervously. Then: “do something.”

When Iason moved to close one of the cuffs around Riki's wrist, the mongrel gasped and jumped, startled, but did not attempt to move away.

“You don't know me,” Riki argued quietly, sullen, as Iason silently encouraged the pet to move onto the bed, on his knees. Iason threaded the length of chain through the immovable bars of his bed head, and then calmly attached the other manacle.

Riki lay face down, his weight on his elbows so that the muscles in his shoulders bunched up with tension. Iason stood and reached down to touch, sweeping his palm over those shoulders down the pet's back, over the curve of his buttocks. He trailed his fingers down the length of one leg as he took the couple of steps to the foot of the bed.

“I knew everything there was to know about your short life mere hours after we met,” Iason told him. He kept his voice deliberately low, purposefully hushed, so as to create an intimate atmosphere between them. “And what I didn't know about you after that, I found out the first time I took you for my own.”

Riki shook his head as Iason attached the first of the chains that were for his ankles. “Yes,” Iason reiterated. “I chose that particular drug because it lowers inhibitions. I knew you would forget your fears, your anger and your resistance. I knew you would forget those things you learned in Ceres, and be what you were born to be.”

As he spoke he gently finished off his work with the chains. “You are mine. Don't you remember? You welcomed me then. You taught me how best to make use of you.”

“Stop trying to psych me out, okay?” Riki snapped. “I wasn't myself.”

“Yourself is all you were. You were my pet, and I was your Master.” Iason smiled coldly. “Do not worry. We can find that again, you and I, without need of the drug.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Riki said, but there was no vehemence behind it. He sighed after he spoke. “I learned to live in Ceres. I learned who I was. You can't take that away from me. Without those things...” He shuddered suddenly, and Iason was there, a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing tenderly between his shoulder blades.

“Get on with it already!” Riki growled, refusing to be comforted, moving his arms slightly so that the chains clinked.

Instead of responding, Iason moved away so that Riki could watch, if he wished, and began to undress. He took his time, ensuring he left everything neat and tidy.

“Will you scream?” he wondered aloud, and Riki huffed.

“Nah, I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.”

Though he spoke in an offhand way, Iason did not miss how Riki watched from beneath his eyelashes, head laid on his outstretched arms. He'd relaxed a little. That was good, because Iason was filled with desire for much more.  

The whisper of heat that raced down his body seemed to pool in the bit of his belly, and he could not ignore it. As before, he had not needed to consciously ready his body for penetrative sex; it anticipated him, and when he removed the black trousers, his cock sprung free, jutting out in front of his body as if eager.

“Shit,” Riki whispered, screwing up his face with his eyes shut, as if that might make it go away.

Iason moved into position behind him. There was no need to touch, since the furniture would have prepared the pet's body for use, and yet Iason took a moment to squeeze lubricant onto his fingers from a pump bottle so that he could explore for a moment or two. He could not resist it.

Riki's body was perfectly stretched and lubricated. Two of his fingers sank inside with little difficulty as the pet whimpered.

“Soon, I will be inside you again, pet,” Iason said, the act of speaking it adding to the wonderful sense of anticipation he felt. The pet's internal muscles twitched around his fingers, as tremulous and urgent as life itself. It made Riki seem exquisitely fragile, so easily broken, and yet that only increased Iason's lust.

“Your body will please me, regardless of your own wishes. Your body knows its Master,” Iason noted, his logic faultless, and the pet growled.

“For fuck's sake, don't talk any more you metal moron!” he said, too loudly. “I can't stand it! If you're going to anyway, just... just do it to me!”

“Luddite,” Iason teased deliberately, and Riki proved the thorough nature of the education he'd received at Guardian by understanding the taunt.

“Yeah, well. Turned out to be right all along, didn't they... boss?” Iason smirked outside of Riki's line of sight, entertained by the irreverent back and forth between them. If any other human had spoken to him like this, they would be dead... or worse. As it was, Iason merely speared his fingers deeper in response, making Riki give a guttural groan.

“I enjoy your sense of humour,” he confided.

“Fuck off. This isn't a joke,” Riki offered in return, his voice deep, as deep as Iason's touch was in him.

“You thought we would serve you for eternity,” Iason remarked. “I think it is a fine joke.” He pulled his fingers out and away, and they exited the mongrel pet's body with a slick sound.

“Yeah, well... you're a glorified calculator,” Riki was saying as Iason applied lubricant to himself, pausing to appreciate the length and width of his own cock, and how it would feel inside Riki. “You've got no sense of humour. Stands to reason you'd want to steal mine.”

“Let us see how well you respond without restrictions,” Iason said, ignoring the feeble words and guiding himself as he entered the pet's body, getting quite deep even on that first thrust. He paused as the sensations hit, and that part of his brain lit up again in glorious life. Iason thought Riki would hardly notice the stillness. Without the restriction of the pet ring, he cried out in shameful pleasure, fingers scrunching in the sheets, his body almost convulsing around Iason's cock. It felt sublime.

Iason began to move, slowly, so that Riki could appreciate every second. The pet's body had not fully come down from the intense stimulation of earlier, and he was making strange nonsense noises as he shuddered, helpless, a sprinkling of climax spilling out from him onto the bed below. Iason used his cock to give pleasure, as well as take it. He wondered if he would be able to make the pet swoon and fall unconscious with bliss.

“You like this,” he said. “Admit it.” Riki did not reply in any recognisable language, and so Iason upped the stimulation, becoming just a little larger, his movements minute, but faster than a human could ever manage. To Riki, it must feel like an intense thrumming inside him. The pet shrieked over and over again, and then Iason took it down a few notches to enable him to speak.

“Why else would you respond this way?” Iason queried.

“I don't know...” Riki gasped, dismayed, almost whimpering, his passage still clinging to Iason with a tight trembling grip. “God, help me, I don't know!”

“God?” Iason sneered. “Now there is a joke indeed.” To teach the mongrel a lesson, he gave Riki a few long, deliciously deep possessive strokes, feeling the enormity of his own climax approach. So soon as this, he really had wanted it! Perhaps this was life, here in these moments, engaged in this act. Certainly Iason felt more alive than he had ever felt before. Nothing else mattered except that they continue this. Even if Jupiter appeared in front of him now, he couldn't have stopped. Not even the surety of his own destruction could halt him.

The mongrel was keening beneath him in desperation, climaxing again, his mortal body too limited to continue to respond like this for very long. “Iason!”

“That is right, pet,” he encouraged. “Who is your Master?”

“No!” Riki cried out, surprising him. That the mongrel could still know his own mind, even now. Iason was impressed against his will, but sought to subjugate that resistance nevertheless. He needed to, as if it was an imperative inside him, an unalterable part of his core programming. He needed to have Riki's surrender. On his precise terms.

“Some more?” he drawled. “Oh, very well...” Again he subjected the pet to all the ability at his command, grimly satisfied when Riki screamed after all, despite his earlier protestation to be contrary.

“Ahh! Please! Iason!” He slowed.

“Who is your Master?” he demanded, meaning it to be coolly spoken, but Iason didn't miss the slight breathless nature of his own voice. Why, it was almost as if the pet's pleasure was connected to his own! As if they were colluding with each other on some deep level that Iason could not touch or analyse.

“Iason Mink... Iason Mink is my Master!”

He was never sure in that moment of orgasm if it was preventable. Could he, if he wished, continue the session? Or was it completely out of his control? It didn't matter. Iason heard his own voice as he came, no longer carefully modulated but wild and savage. Victorious as he hurtled over the edge, making the pet take it all. All of him, as if he had some essence that existed outside of his physical body and cognitive process. It was the most amazing sensation.

Despite the way he dominated the pet, the instant itself was simultaneously like giving in, as if it was not just simulated seminal fluid, as if a large part of himself went forth, leaving him unspeakably empty. In the moments immediately following, it felt as all the life he had been temporarily granted was suddenly missing, snatched away, and yet he could hardly wait to do it again, and again.

The pet would not last. Iason laid beside him, staring up at the ceiling, aware of Riki's eyes upon him, burning and resentful but satiated. Only Riki. Out of all the pets he had known. Only he inspired this reaction, and Iason was not prepared to lose it, no matter the cost. His mind turned to Guardian, and the secrets it held that he was not supposed to know. At least, not overtly. The organ farm... Katze would be useful if he decided to solve the problem that way. Iason turned his head to stare into Riki's eyes, unblinking.

“I think there are ways...” he mused, lifting a hand to brush the dampness of tears from the pet's cheek.

“Ways?” Riki said sharply, suspicious.

“To make you serve me,” Iason responded, “for eternity.”

To own the truth, he was not at all surprised to see that Riki was less than enthused by the prospect. His eyes widened in terror, and he shivered.

“Young, beautiful, mine forever.” Iason stared at him. “How can you refuse?” he taunted.

“I refuse,” Riki breathed. “You've got to let me go. Seriously.” He blinked and then suddenly drew in a deep shaky breath, breaking the intense gaze between them as shook his head. “Why me?” he muttered to himself angrily. “This is fucking real!”

Iason smiled, and pulled the pet closer, into his arms. He was so wonderfully warm. Despite his animosity, Riki's body was too relaxed and floppy to resist.

“It is not within your power to decide.” Iason let go of those thoughts. “And besides it is a consideration for later. For now, there are many other things I want to try with you. We will explore some of them here, tonight.”

In his arms, the mongrel shivered, the chains that held his arms and legs jingled. “Don't,” Riki said, too quickly.

Pleased, Iason kissed the mongrel pet, exploring his mouth thoroughly. He'd become quite good at this, and the sound of the mongrel's muffled vocalisations proved it, as did the way he pressed himself against the length of Iason's body. When he pulled back, he smiled very slightly. “Don't, what?”

Riki's eyes were wide and open, the façade cracked as if broken, yet he trembled. He swallowed audibly, his throat dry. “Don't, Master Iason,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing, as if with humiliation. “Please?”

For a moment, Iason considered him coolly, then he gave a dismissive huff of breath. The mongrel had no understanding of sincerity. “I think, for your attempt to manipulate me, I will have you again first,” he said. As he spoke, he felt his body responding again. Iason needed no refractory time, and Riki's startled cry as he realised his appeal for mercy had failed was beautiful. It made pleasure course through Iason before he'd even begun, and he remembered his earlier idle thought about making Riki faint. He'd never really had occasion to test the genitalia he was equipped with, or what he was capable of.

The pet fell unconscious part way between the ninth and tenth minute, and he fell breathing Iason's name. When he awoke again, it was to a true test of physical endurance and capacity rather than pleasure...

To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying it. To those of you who have followed this story here from the other archive, welcome! :)

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