Human Android Ch 10

Chapter 10

The professor becomes a gang whore

Anne felt so low she needed to curl up in a ball, and hide away from the world. A set of naughty sex games had been deeply imbedded into her mind, waiting to be triggered by certain phrases. Once a game had been triggered, she was compelled to play by its rules, acting out the naughty role.

The dire whore game had been inadvertently triggered by a bunch of drop outs, when she bumped into them in a mall. She hadn't even been aware that such a subculture existed, now she was playing to their tune; a macabre dance. They had taken her to their hideaway for a bit of fun, not knowing she was under the influence of the damnable game.

They didn't know she was a professor at the local university, only that she was behaving like a slutty whore. They were quiet, astonished at the nasty demonstration of her perverse skills, with a dildo. She had performed a disgusting, lewd act before them, and hoped they would leave it at that. If they didn't give her another order she would be free to go.

Phil pushed her panties into his pocket and smiled at her. "You want a real cock now," he told her. "Don't get up, crawl over here," he added, pointing to his crotch.

Anne groaned, knowing it was impossible to avoid the despicable act, and already felt the disgrace of it. Even if he knew she was a professor, this young guy would still take advantage. They would probably take greater pleasure in degrading her. Especially this little prick, as he was the malevolent one in their pathetic gang.

"Get to work whore," he ordered.

"Yes, sir, with pleasure," she smiled up at him. It was all the more infuriating when the program chose her words, adding to the hurt of being forced to perform for these young hooligans.

The naughty games were meant to be for her husband's pleasure, in the privacy of their bedroom. They had been naughty and fun, with strict rules as to what he could do, and couldn't do to her. There were no rules here, so the game kept on growing stronger, taking her over. It had all become so terribly out of control.

She looked up at him through hooded eyes, licking her lips, trying to look sexy for the despicable loser. The game had her acting out the role of an enthusiastic, depraved whore. The attractive woman was naked, so there was no need to try and be sexy, her luscious body was devastatingly arousing enough.

"It's so big and juicy," she exclaimed, and kissed the head of his cock, with wet slurping lips. Having to perform this vulgar entertainment for a stranger, before his friends, was humiliating. It was so much more shameful, pretending to enjoy it. At least his friends were watching silently, no longer making rude comments.

She managed to suck it all into her mouth, only having to nudge the back of her throat occasionally, as her head bobbed up and down. She looked up at him and cringed. The expression of contempt, on the leering face, was appalling. It defined her place in this gang, as just an object, on the end of a cock.

"I can't wait for you," Joe complained. After watching her fuck with a dildo, and sucking his friend's cock, Joe was desperate for relief. His rock-hard cock was aching for release. He grabbed Anne's hips, pulling her off the floor. Without the slightest consideration, he rammed his throbbing cock deep inside her cunt.

Anne groaned around the short, fat cock in her mouth. She felt the strong grip on her hips, knowing what some bastard was going to do to her. It was awful being unable to refuse him, and worse still, not knowing who was taking her so brutally.

She felt him ram in, without the slightest resistance. She groaned in anguish, on finding she had been so aroused, so open and ready; for anyone who wanted to take her. They had told her she was a whore, and a whore she was, unable to resist the rules of that damn program.

The contemptible, Phil, was holding off, making her work hard to make him cum. She felt his friend spurt into her. As programmed she had an orgasm. The small unsatisfactory orgasm was forced upon her. She wanted to bite the damn cock in her mouth, but it was impossible to do anything, besides being a compliant whore.

Another one of his gang took hold of her and slid in to a soaking wet hole. He shoved hard, pushing her head into Phil's lap, forcing the cock down her throat.

The familiar sign, of the program worming its way deep into her mind, was frightening. Using that awful word, cunt, in her thoughts, to describe her vagina meant it was taking over. No longer merely acting like a whore, she was beginning to think of herself as a whore.

At last Phil spurted into her mouth. The strings of salty pearls congealed in her mouth, making her gulp it down or choke. She enthusiastically sucked his balls dry, making a show of swallowing his sperm down her throat, into her belly.

"Mmmmm! Tasty cum, sir," she told the arrogant shit. She shamelessly licked her lips, as though finishing a rare delicacy.

"Go and lick my friends clean now, you dirty whore," he told her, with a derisive grin on his face.

On hands and knees, Anne crawled over to the two guys that had fucked her. It was obvious who they were, for the others had hard lumps in their jeans. She delved into their jeans and sucked them as ordered, tasting her sex juices on their cocks.

"Anyone else want a blow job?" Phil asked.

Ben had been the only one to stand up to Phil, protecting her somewhat, only now he sat silently, watching the disgusting performance. She had acted so enthusiastically, he decided she didn't need his protection. The others would soon come back under his leadership once they had been satisfied.

She padded, on hands and knees, to one after another of the gang. Sucking them dry was humiliating. The sucking up to them, like a professional whore, was devastating her self-worth.

Being so low, left her bereft of energy to fight the game program. She was losing the will to resist, as the rules of behavior burrowed ever deeper into her mind. If she didn't escape soon, the game rules would become dominant, defining who she was.

"Well! What now? You've had what you wanted, Phil. You better take her back to the mall," Ben told his friend.

"We should keep her. Make her our gang fuck," he argued.

Anne groaned in an agony of pain from hearing those words. The whimper might have sounded pleasurable, from anticipation of servicing them. The idea of being kept in a state of constant arousal, always ready for a bunch of losers to fuck, was abhorrent.

The others turned away from him, not wanting to get between the two dominant guys. Without their support Phil knew better than to push Ben, so gave in.

"OK! It was fun while it lasted," he shrugged. A big smile flashed across his face, quickly replaced by the usual leer.

***

The delivery truck needed to be returned before it was missed, but they weren't on their way back to mall. Anne was hardly conscious of where they were or where they were heading. She was recovering from the whore program, relieved to feel it slinking from her mind.

She sat in the van, with arms wrapped around her exposed body. She wore a skimpy blouse and micro miniskirt, without underwear. She had sucked and slurped those young delinquents' cum, straight from the end of their cocks. All that young, potent sperm was in her stomach, and she imagined her belly was full of it. The indignity of such a degrading performance left her feeling pathetic, and vulnerable.

"We're here," Phil announced.

Anne looked around wondering where 'here' was. It didn't really matter, she was ready to escape. The program left her feeling muzzy headed, but at least she was free of it.

"Wait!" Phil told her. He grabbed her arm. "You're just a whore, a good fucking whore, but just a cheap whore," he said, with a leer on his face. "You are my whore now, no need to share you with them," he told her.

'No! No! No!' Anne shrieked inside. She should have run for her life while she had the chance. The whore program was hurrying back to take over. She slumped in the seat, fearful of what he was going to do with her. It just couldn't get any worse than it already had. Being gang fucked by a bunch of dropouts was devastating, so what could he do to her, all by himself.

They walked into a shabby, downtrodden store, where Phil was greeted by a friend. "Hey Phil, what you got there, man?" Billy asked.

"A dirty little whore I picked up this afternoon. She needs some decoration, and you're just the man to fix her up," Phil laughed. They high-fived while sharing conspiratorial grins.

"Sit, right here," Billy told her.

Anne slunk down into an old battered, dentist chair, with a dreadful idea of what they were up to. The lurid illustrations, decorating the walls, shouted the message at a deafening volume.

They each took an ankle, fastening it with a leather belt to the chair, holding her legs apart. Her head was fastened to the head rest.

"Open wide," Billy quipped.

Anne had little choice but act out the role of a dirty whore, so being strapped to the chair was unnecessary. Perhaps the 'treatment' was going to be so hideous, they thought she would shrink from it, and try to escape.

"What do you want?" Billy asked his friend, rather than her.

Phil pulled up the blouse. "Nipple rings for a start," he announced.

Anne's face screwed up in agony, despite the program forcing her to act as his compliant whore. She didn't consider the pain; just the indignity of being pierced shook her. It was enough to push aside the rules of the game, for a moment or two.

"Please, not that, don't spoil my body!" she pleaded.

Billy looked at his friend, hesitating from forcing this on someone. She had come in wearing next to nothing, flaunting her big tits, not flinching from being called a whore. The pitiable look of fear on her face, and in the tone of voice, made him hesitate.

"Shut up that pathetic whining! You're my whore and will do as you're told," Phil crassly ordered.

"Yes, Sir," she meekly replied. Anne felt the game rules re-asserting themselves, leaving her vulnerable to the dreadful things he wanted to do to her.

Phil gripped a breast and squeezed it, presenting the nipple to his friend. "She wants it, just a little scared that's all," Phil explained.

Seeing her nod her head Billy brought over a small machine, like a staple gun. Before she knew what was happening, a nipple was stinging sharply, quickly numbing down to a dull throb. The next one wasn't so bad, as she was prepared for it.

She looked at her breasts, watching the nipples swelling in reaction to the damage. The little gold rings were almost lost in the big puffy nipples. Her nipples had always been big, even before the implants. Now, they were in proportion to the oversized breasts.

For a long time she had thought to get a reduction, only agreeing to have them done from her husband's enthusiasm. It was while they were first married, before her career took off. So used to them, she hardly noticed men staring at her breasts. She hid them as much as possible under sensible, dowdy business suits.

How could she possibly wear a blouse under a jacket with these things showing through? A bra made of thicker material was needed, to hide these rings, and that would emphasize her large breasts.

As soon as she was free of this little shit, the horrible things would be removed. How dare he damage her body like this, who did he think he was. Did he think he owned her body? It had to be admitted, for the moment she was his whore, meaning he did own her.

"What next?" Billy asked.

"What do you call those rings down here?" Phil asked, pushing at her lips with a hard stubby finger.

"Labia piercings. How many?" Billy asked.

Anne wanted to scream at them. She shook her head, the only reaction managed while transfixed by the program.

"Two will be enough. You could run a chain between them, up through the nipple rings, to a collar," Billy explained. He was obviously into chains and bondage. He noticed the scowl his friend gave him, and decided to just get on with it.

Anne cried out each time her lips were pierced. The two torturers expected it and even Phil flinched. The machine had injected an anesthetic, though the idea of it was enough to cause her to jump.

Billy handed his friend a tub of ointment. "Rub this on, it'll prevent some of the swelling," he advised.

Phil enjoyed rubbing her sex. He took his time, unsure if they were swelling from the piercings or from his fingers. He might try out the chains. It would be fun leading her around by pulling on her lips. Every time he pulled on her collar the chain would rub her nipples and pull on her labia. The thought of it appealed to him.

Anne wasn't in too much pain but suffered an agony of humiliation. Someone from the campus could walk in at any moment and recognize her. She was held down, in the big leather chair, with her legs spread. Her smooth bald pussy was glistening with grease, with both lips pierced. Her plump breasts were on display, with rings piercing a pair of swollen nipples.

Not even the most rebellious of students would have displayed themselves so gratuitously. It was immoral and absolutely damning, for a professor to be in this position.

If a student entered the store, for an inoffensive tattoo, they would be sure to recognize her. After recovering from the shock, and examining her mutilated body, they might look at her face. She would be in trouble if it was that hulk from the football team, Ben, who she narrowly escaped once before. He hadn't recognized her then. This time she needn't be under the control of a program, he could blackmail her into submitting to him.

Anne shook her head, taking deep breaths, trying to shake off the fantasy. She had become so hot she was imagining all sorts of dreadful things. So used to being aroused, so addicted to sex, this situation was firing her imagination.

"It didn't hurt that much," Billy told her. He mistook her actions as a reaction to the piercing, rather than how heated she had become.

"In the past it was really painful, yet they stood it. Even tattoos were painful, in the old days," he smiled, trying to calm her down.

"What about a tattoo?" Billy asked.

Anne groaned out loud.

They looked at her and laughed, thinking it was from Phil's hand, rubbing between her legs. The greasy ointment was spread over her pussy, up to her asshole. He fingered both holes, working her up.

"Not now, I've other plans. I'll bring her back later. I was thinking of giving her an ownership tattoo. Another one low on her back, saying - 'fuck hole'. Got any other ideas?" Phil asked.

"Plenty of ideas, so long as you got the cash, my friend. It can wait till you come back," Billy smiled.

****

"Listen good, you hear me?" he asked, holding her chin in a hard grip. She tried to nod, unable to speak. "You're going into that club, to earn me some credit, for the piercings and tattoos," he said, handing her a biometric card.

"Approach everyone in the club, offering your services as whore. Make a good play for them, but don't make trouble. When they've finished with you, you're finished too, so you can leave the club. Don't leave until you've offered yourself to all of them," he firmly warned her.

As head of the university business studies department, she wasn't impressed with his plan; market research hadn't even been attempted. As his obedient little whore, she walked into the club, to tempt any punters that would take her. Every skill she had and her whole body too, was on offer, to whoever wanted it.

As she entered a leaflet was dispensed from a machine, explaining the club rules. As far as sex was concerned, it seemed anything went, short of permanently harming anyone. Fortunately there were few people there this early in the evening, and they seemed more interested in the sports viewer and beer, rather than her.

She rubbed her thigh against an old guy, trying hard to win his custom. The disappointing score, more than her seduction skills, motivated him to escort her to a back room.

"What do you do?" he asked.

With an inward groan she remembered the litany of obscenities she had offered to the gang, at their hideaway. The program interrupted her thoughts to speak for her. "Anything you want, honey," she cooed.

The guys name was William, looked over forty-five, and didn't look too interested. "Shall I dance for you?" she said, swaying her hips. There wasn't much use in offering to strip, for she wore next to nothing anyway. His eyes were lighting up as she gyrated seductively, let the blouse go, and let her large breasts sway before him.

Anne was concentrating on getting him to fuck her, as Phil's obedient whore. The sooner he did, the sooner she could move on to the next customer, and be out of the dingy club. A nasty thought came to mind, that the program pushing her into thinking like a whore, rather than just behaving like one. She shook her head, losing the thought and loosening her hair.

She whipped him with her long hair then moved in, to lick his hairy ears. She found his mouth and sucked on his tongue, reached between his legs, and found he was ready enough to fuck.

Returning to the bar with him, she found his buddy had turned up. William recommended her, so she led the friend away for another cheap fuck. Returning to the bar with another satisfied customer, she figured the order had been completed and she could escape. None of the others had been interested, as she looked so disreputable.

The bar was an automatic dispenser, so there was no barman to offer her services to. Phil had told her to offer herself to everyone and that order had been completed, so she was free. He had neglected to command her to return to him!

She stood a moment, with the familiar, glorious fuzzy feeling, heralding the termination of the game. Soon she would be free to walk out the door, away from that dickhead of a boy.

She was furious, with herself, for letting that gang of stupid drop outs trap her. That despicable young guy had her working as his whore. He had set her to work in this rundown club, as a common prostitute, like a stupid horny slut. He had called her a good fucking whore! She had been his stupid fucking whore!

Anne glanced up and saw two men walk in. An attempt to escape toward the door was abruptly turned into a step toward them. She wanted to cry. The two of them were looking her over, checking out her large breasts, obviously, liking what they saw.

She had to quickly get them to fuck her, or more customers would arrive. She could end up being there all night. The prospect of expertly fucking strangers all night was terrifying. It left her thoughts cringing in a corner of her mind, needing to escape the terrible overwhelming thoughts.

She was a staid, responsible professor, working hard at a professional career. She was a harridan to her staff and students expecting them to work hard too. Now, she was going to be working hard, to be a good professional, fucking whore. She let go, leaving the horrendous task to the whore program. These men were out of town executives looking for fun, so she would have to be just a little more subtle.

All that meant was, she refrained from rubbing her sex against their legs, like a bitch on heat. She teased out of them, what they might like to do to her. She accidently lost the blouse, letting it unravel, from being tied under the ample breasts. They were fascinated by her huge tits. They didn't have to say anything, their faces revealed all.

"Could you help, me, I can't let go of my breasts, and get my top back on," she simpered, fluttering her eyelashes at them. As Jerome pushed and pulled at the top, trying to make it fit, she looked into his face, gauging how to continue.