📚 ai era: a nerd girl's story Part 7 of 9
ai-era-a-nerd-girls-story-ch-07
MIND CONTROL

Ai Era A Nerd Girls Story Ch 07

Ai Era A Nerd Girls Story Ch 07

by vallesmarineris
19 min read
4.62 (2400 views)
adultfiction

Note to non-nerd readers: to help you navigate through Gracie's world, I have published a glossary of special terms

here

, which covers Gracie's several nerdy interests. Please consult it as needed.

Chapter Seven

Brady paced back and forth in front of her as she sat on her small couch. "Just tell me what you want."

"Um . . ." His visit was already going badly, only a few minutes after his arrival. He'd tried to embrace her and begin kissing her immediately, but she'd made the mistake of pushing him away. Now they were having a talk. Gracie wasn't a fan of talks.

"Come on, Gracie. Why am I here? Except of course for you-know-what. You have a new version, don't you? You should start calling them

per-

versions, by the way. What did you fly me down here for?"

Gracie felt crazy. What was she doing to herself? What had she already done to herself? Brady was a poor grad student, so Gracie had bought his plane ticket, which was not cheap. Which meant that now she was paying to fly a man in to service her sexual needs. Which was crazy, because she had a perfectly fine and cute man here, Paul, who would do anything she wanted. But that was part of the problem. She was always the lead in their sex, what Dahlia had termed "dominant". Which she was totally into. But sometimes, like now, she needed . . . something different. And Damon . . . but that was even more different, not right for the first time. The first time actually wanting it.

Brady did look good in his tight T-shirt. He kept his hands behind his back as he paced, but not at all like Paul. Brady acted like the professor he wanted to be, focused on the point he needed to make and the problem that needed to be solved. Which was her. She couldn't take her eyes off the lump in his pants. She took a deep breath and just said it. "I want you to

fuck

me." She was trying to channel Dahlia's frank and open attitude, which seemed admirably mature. Also hot. But she still couldn't help showing her inexperience with those special words.

Brady stumbled and stopped in his tracks. "Whoa."

"I've decided it's time to move on to

fucking

. And I've decided that you will do me first. Assuming you're agreeable, of course." She picked up her phone.

"I can't think of anything I'd want to agree to more." He moved closer to her.

"I mean . . . I'm not a virgin. I just haven't done it in a while and not yet . . ."

"With that thing." He gestured at her phone.

"Yes." She composed herself, sitting up straight. He was right there and she could easily just reach out and to touch him, his lump. Right at eye level. "And . . . if you want . . . I could maybe dress up for you. You know, play a part to get you in the mood?" Paul liked when she did the Barsoom old-novel scene. And Damon liked when she dressed up a little ecchi. "A character, maybe, that you've always wanted to . . ."

"I can't think of anyone I'd want to fuck more than Gracie Bell." Her face warmed when he said that. A wetness appeared down there. Brady wanted to fuck her. She realized she'd been a tiny bit scared that he wouldn't. Dahlia would be laughing at her right now. "And I like you naked. That's the best costume."

"Oh. Okay." She'd never done anything like it before, but it seemed now perfectly appropriate to stand up and, in front of him, undress completely. Off came her T-shirt, then her bra. He seemed to like that, smiling a warm and pleased smile at her, maybe a little surprised too. New Gracie didn't want to play hard to get. Just the opposite. She tried to imagine what a professional stripper would do. She couldn't, except she thought she should do it slowly. She stared in his eyes while she unbuckled and unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down. She stepped out of them without looking away from him, sliding her panties down after and kicking away the crumpled pile unseen. "Like this?"

She spread her arms out in a gesture she often made in class after demonstrating a technical point. Except now she was demonstrating her nakedness, and her gesture made her little tits stick out a bit. A fantasy flashed through her mind: could she ever be brave enough to teach a class naked? She still had trouble believing men liked her skinny frame. Though Paul couldn't seem to get enough of her. She sat down again.

"Yes!" He joined her on the couch and slid close to touch her.

"Not yet." She held up her phone.

"Of course. Your app. Of course you have a version for fucking." He slid his hand along her bare thigh, up and down.

"Correct. And we need to agree on some parameters."

"I'll wear a condom. I brought some just in case."

"You are such a smart guy. That's great. But not what I meant." His brows lifted in confusion. "First, how long do you want to last?"

"Excuse me?" He'd moved his hand up her side and was feeling over her navel, but that stopped him.

"It goes from zero to eight. Neither of us wants zero." Although, she thought, a zero-level blow job, a surprise like a zero-day, but of course a pleasant surprise, was an interesting concept. "If you're on eight you'll be hard all night. But I do want you to come inside me. Would you be willing to do that for me?"

His answer was a laugh and movement to her crotch.

"Seven?" she suggested.

He laughed again. "You think that app can actually do that to me?"

📖 Related Mind Control Magazines

Explore premium magazines in this category

View All →

"Let's find out." She moved the slider to seven. "What positions do you want to fuck me in? Let's see . . . there's missionary, cowgirl, doggy . . ." she began, reading Dahlia's list. "What's scissors?"

"Just pick them all. I want to fuck you in every way it's possible for a man to fuck a woman." A finger began exploring her slit.

"Wait, wait! We need to pick the foreplay." She scooted away to the end of the couch.

"We don't need foreplay. I'm ready." He pushed her down and spread her legs. Kneeling between them he opened his pants. Out popped his stiffening cock.

She reached out and stroked it as it grew, trying to stretch her head toward it. "Can I, can I . . .?"

"You can suck me off later to thank me for the great fucking I'm going to give you."

"Oh. Okay."

"Twice. No, three times. But right now I want my dick in Gracie Bell's pussy and nothing's going to stop me." From somewhere a foil packet appeared in his hand.

Her pussy gushed as if his words had gone straight into it. She hurriedly closed the app's settings page and invoked the scene, then aimed the phone at him and flashed the video.

He stopped with the condom in his hand and watched it. His jaw went slack but he seemed almost studious as he absorbed the image sequence. That expression somehow made him look younger, reminding her of how he'd looked when he was her student. A crazy thrill sent shivers up her spine. She was about to be fucked by one of her students! Okay, former, but still! All those attractive, smart guys in her classes that she could have got between her legs. Like this one.

As soon as the video was finished he growled, slipped the condom on, and spread her legs up and wide until she was almost bent double under him. She was going to get fucked, at last, and by the man she wanted to do it to her. Even without a video she wanted it, but she wanted to go all-in, to the max, committed. She flipped the phone around and did her version of the video on herself, barely able to keep it aimed at her while the images drilled into her and his cock slid along her gushing slit, searching for her hole.

The overwhelming desire, craving, and just pure hunger to have a cock inside her, unleashed by the video, peaked at the exact moment Brady's swollen rod found her entrance and suddenly she was full of cock.

It was a glorious moment, as if his cock had just teleported into her and was twice as big as it looked, three times, and so long it was snaking way up her, radiating impossibly intense pleasure in parts of her it shouldn't be able to reach. Her legs and arms wrapped around him, hugging him as if he were rescuing her from drowning, and she came instantly, hard, shaking uncontrollably under him, yelling her lungs out until she couldn't breathe. She went limp.

But she was still being fucked. The man between her legs, she couldn't think who at this moment and it didn't matter, was still pumping in and out, driving her off the couch with his thrusts. "Ahh!" she cried, her head upside down and sinking to the rug with her hips still on the cushion. He held her like that while he fucked her, a headstand fuck, a position she'd never imagined, and then they were both on the floor and she found out what scissor fucking was when he lifted her leg and pushed himself even farther into her than before and pumped even harder and she was coming again.

Before she could recover he turned her over and lifted her hips up and she was being plowed from behind. She somehow lifted her head from the rug and gained some presence of mind. "You're fucking— fuck—" she tried to say, to tell him it was too much for her first time and she couldn't take any more, but he'd found her phone and slid it on the rug in front of her. It flashed her again and she yelled "Fuck me! Fuck me!" over and over even though she knew the orgasm building inside her would kill her with its unbearable pressure. A hand grabbed her hair and her knees burned on the rug with the wild thrusting of the cock that drove her across the floor and wouldn't stop assaulting her until there was nothing left inside her but cock and orgasm.

# # #

Is this a mistake? Just to confirm,

she'd texted Dahlia when she'd first seen the word images in a new set that Dahlia had sent her. Besides the depictions of even more lewd ways for male and female bodies to be intimate, there were images of simple phrases that could have been subtitles translating an anime— a hentai:

Fuck me!

was one of the tamer phrases.

Pleased fuck my face, Sir,

and

I've been a really bad girl,

made Gracie flinch a little. She didn't even want to look at the anal ones.

Dahlia had explained at their previous one-on-one: "The VICTOR team was experimenting with verbal cues. They still can't reach the aural circuits, not yet, but they found a workaround. In the VICTOR treatments they flashed vanilla suggestions like, 'Peace,' and 'I am strong', but I thought we could use the technique for, let's say, more interesting objectives. Dirty talk is always fun. Really effective for getting past the inhibitions that our sexist society inflicts on us women."

# # #

She woke— she must have blacked out for a few seconds— sprawled out on the floor with Brady next to her removing the condom from his still raging erection. "Wore that one out," he said. "Come here."

She rolled onto her side and crawled to him. "Please let me suck you off," she said, moving to take him in her mouth. The words that came out were one of the word images. She hadn't planned to use those for her first fuck, but Dahlia had included a check box for that, on by default, and she hadn't had time to uncheck it before Brady had attacked her. She should have felt embarrassed to say such slutty things. Old Gracie would have. So now was she a slut? Slut Gracie? Dr. Gracie Fuckslut Bell?

"Later," he said. He was already putting on another condom. "Sit on this." He lay back on the floor and pulled her onto him. And back into her his cock slid, filling her up again, and she felt dumb again, thinking of all the cocks she could have got to fuck her. Would she have fucked some of her students? Old Gracie would never. But students graduated. Brady's eyes were closed, but he was feeling all over her with his hands and he oohed and aahed. She had a fantasy while she rode Brady and saw in his face how much pleasure she was giving him: she wanted to choose her top male student at the end of each year and give him a special valedictory award: his tough, cold professor's liquid, hot pussy. And his tight-lipped professor's open mouth. Maybe her top two or three students.

That fantasy evaporated the second Brady flashed her again and she rode him like he was the world's best vibrator and was soon making herself come on him. "I'm going to fuck you all . . . fucking . . . night!" she gasped out and, "Suck your lips!" which made no sense in the fog of orgasm but it didn't matter, all that mattered was coming. She grabbed the phone out of his hand and did the video on him again. "Come in my fucking— fucking—" but he was already doing it, grunting and bucking under her over and over.

She collapsed on him and slid off. They lay together on the floor panting. "Fuck, that was incredible!" he proclaimed to the ceiling. Gracie didn't know what to think or say. She was just a puddle of female protoplasm, impossibly well-fucked female protoplasm with a throbbing, buzzing pussy that still seemed to be coming. A buzzing, coming pussy that needed more cock. Lots more cock.

# # #

"Oh, Dahlia, you were right, so very right," Gracie said Monday during their one-on-one. She'd arrived at Dahlia's office late after saying good-bye to Brady and immediately collapsed in Dahlia's one guest chair as if she'd just finished running a marathon. The weekend had been a test of endurance, as if fucking were a team sport in the Olympics. She could still taste the last bit of the come she'd forced out of him before he'd left for the airport, finally getting to try a zero-day on him, just unzipping him and pulling his cock out and sucking him off quickly while his ride share approached. Her pussy was way too used anyway after a weekend of fucking and videoing and fucking even more and on and on. Putting the Stud setting on zero was the only thing that got him to come; only a few tiny drops, barely enough to taste, dripped onto her tongue. It was so hot to watch him stagger backwards with his last orgasm. He could barely walk to his ride.

"My, my, Grace. You're quite the mess."

Gracie couldn't respond, nor could she deny Dahlia's observation. She sagged in the chair with her legs spread and stretched out. If a man, almost any man, had entered Dahlia's office right now and wanted to fuck her she would have welcomed whatever was in his pants. Her eyes felt puffy from lack of sleep, her hair was a stringy disaster, her pussy throbbed, but she was not done fucking, just the opposite.

🛍️ Featured Products

Premium apparel and accessories

Shop All →

"And your socks don't match."

Gracie looked down. Brown and white. She'd also forgotten to tie her Chucks. They'd spent the entire weekend inside, fucking and ordering takeout and fucking and maybe a nap together between fucks and a little work and more fucking and . . . and she'd been naked the whole time. Brady liked her naked body so he got that 24/7. She'd even been naked at her front door after their good-bye zero-day blow job, waving to him as his car drove off. "I don't remember putting them on."

Dahlia chuckled. "I almost envy you," she said, "you're so obviously so very well fucked." Gracie couldn't disagree. "It's one of the unique pleasures of being a woman to feel a man come inside you, isn't it? You stayed safe?"

Gracie didn't at first understand the question. How could she not be safe with Brady, however hard he animal-fucked her? Then she understood. "Condom," she got out weakly.

"Maybe it's time to talk to your gynecologist."

"I . . . um . . . the U. Health Service?"

"That's what you use?" Dahlia shook her head in disbelief. "You need an upgrade to match your men. I'll get you in touch with my doctor. She'll take care of you."

Gracie closed her eyes while Dahlia worked her phone. Brady had fucked Gracie Fucktoy Bell's pussy in every way she could be fucked, true to his desire, in every area of her small apartment, on every piece of furniture and every bit of floor space the two of them could fit. They videoed each other over and over until it seemed the imprint had taken hold permanently and they couldn't stop themselves and exhaustion was the only thing . . . "Uh," she grunted, jerking awake.

"I think you needed that nap," Dahlia said.

Gracie looked over to see Dahlia working at her computer. She sat up and checked her phone. "Sorry." She'd been out almost twenty minutes.

"No problem. Ready to work? I have some really good news."

In her foggy brain Gracie imagined,

Brady's flight got canceled and he's coming back!

"Um . . . news?"

"Yes! Those reports the VICTOR team has been writing— they sent you drafts, have you looked at them?— they've been accepted for the big neurology conference coming up."

"Um, okay. That's great."

"And they want you to do the presentation of the Bell procedure."

"Oh no, I could never . . ."

"This is your moment, Grace."

No, Gracie thought, her moment was when Brady had first plowed his wonderful cock into her. Or when she'd swallowed Paul's come as he made her clit explode. Or the rain of twenties as she sucked off Damon. Those were moments . . .

"I know you're a bit shy about these things."

Gracie wasn't shy. She just didn't want to talk in front of a room full of strangers. Nobody ever understood what she was trying to do or how she did it.

"We'll help, don't worry. The Bell procedure! You'll be famous!"

Gracie didn't want to be famous. She wanted to dive deep into her work. And have cocks dive deep into her. And tongues.

"And I have several new ideas for the app."

That got her attention. Tongues. Hmm. Brady hadn't eaten her at all, it had been totally a cock weekend. Where was Paul?

# # #

Paul's moans had risen an octave, delicious tones to match his delicious cock. He really had a nice tenor voice and her cocksucking brought it out in a pure form full of longing. For release, of course— she'd lifted him to the peak of horny sexual desire— but also profound longing for her, especially              for her pussy. "Oh, Dale, Dale, your pussy, please." He jerked in his bonds as she did the cruelest torture on him, sucking without mercy on his distended cockhead while she used her tongue on his underside to drive him insane.

She was Dale Arden. He'd shown her some of the old Flash Gordon comics and confessed he had the hots for Dale, so of course she couldn't resist building a video for him. She really, really liked Paul. The old comics were a kind of Western manga, which was totally logical. The scenes of Ming the Merciless chaining Dale in his dungeon had inspired her, but not in the way the comic strip was plotted. Flash was the one tied up now, spreadeagled on Gracie's bed by a few items she'd picked up from Dahlia's favorite online store. Dale, in Gracie's improvement on the plot, was a scientist compelled by Ming's advanced mental control technology to extract from Flash by any means— and that really did mean by

any

means— the secrets of his superconductor interplanetary rocket tech, and steal it for Ming's evil plans.

It was well known throughout Mongo that Flash could endure any pain; but could he endure any pleasure? Dale was determined to find out.

"No, Flash!" she commanded, taking her mouth off him. "You will not be granted release until you yield the secret of your superconductor rocket!"

"Never! Dale, Dale, what has Ming done to you? Ah!"

She'd climbed on him and had just sunk her soaking pussy on his cock. She really, really loved fucking and Flash's cock was fucking perfection. "Ming will unify us all under his enlightened, his enlight— light— Ooh-ooh!" She came hard on his cock, gushing all over it, pumping and pumping through a series of orgasms while he pleaded for something, mercy or more mashing, she couldn't make out.

"Ah! Dale, you're so beautiful! Let me— let me!" he pleaded. As well as being roped to the bed, he was blindfolded— he'd told her it made it easier for him to visualize the scene. She didn't mind. She was naked after losing the tights he liked for Dale, and amazing as it might be, she understood that Paul, like Brady, did find her attractive.

Enjoyed this story?

Rate it and discover more like it

You Might Also Like