The Art Of The Kneel

Chapter 1: The Art of the Kneel

Eric tossed the report he had been reading onto his desk, squinted, and rubbed the corners of his eyes. For the third time that night he had read an entire paragraph while his brain had wandered to wherever thoughts get lost - the space between worlds, Eric guessed. He grabbed a grapefruit-sized glass orb off of its stand and leaned back in his cushy chair, fondling the orb absentmindedly. It was a standard gift that the past three CEOs had been given when they took the reins of SoftTech. But nothing about Eric's rise to power had been standard. He directed his thousand yard stare outside the floor-to-ceiling windows and thought back on all the sleepless nights. All the backstabbed friends. All the pieces of his soul he had sold to various devils. Outside, the fading sun was turning the New York skyline into a scene you'd find on a postcard from those home-away-from-home souvenir shops they had for American tourists in Spain or wherever. At least he hoped it was dusk that he was seeing and not dawn. But no, he hadn't slipped that far yet, and he had burned the candle from both ends enough in this office to tell the difference.

"Mr Slater, your 7pm is here to see you." The declaration furrowed Eric's brow and his chair slowly returned to its upright position. He leaned over and pressed a button on his intercom before he realized that he was too confused to even formulate a coherent question.

"Laura uh...Laura, why the fuck did you schedule a meeting for seven goddamn pee em on a goddamn Friday? And why the hell are you even still here?"

"Kelly needs braces so I'm just putting in some overtime, sir. And it was Mr Posetto that had me schedule this. He said 'not like the bastard has a life to interrupt anyway'"

"Of course it was Joe Motherfucking Posetto. Go the hell home, Laura. And tell Kelly I love her and her teeth are beautiful. Oh and make a note to send two dozen roses to Joe. But Laura, make sure they're all dead and wilting, will you?"

"Absolutely, Mr Slater. Have a good night."

Eric straightened a few files on his desk and redid the top button of his dress shirt. Ran a hand through his unkempt hair and then tried to look relaxed as his 7pm walked through the large glass doors at the other end of his office. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but whatever it was, it didn't at all resemble the figure that approached him now. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall, even in the high glossy black heels she was sauntering towards him in. And the pencil skirt and dress shirt did little to hide the incredible curves moving just below the fabric. And her face, Gods she barely looked old enough to pay taxes, much less be swaggering into his office like her name was on the building. She held out a hand as she approached, heels clacking away on the tile floor.

"Mr Slater, I'm Evie Noxx. It's a pleasure to meet you." Her introduction was accompanied by a thousand watt gaze and a Cheshire cat-like smile. The rest of her was incredible, but the smile was a work of art. It should be hanging next to the Mona Lisa, or greeting foreign dignitaries at the UN. Eric reeled his thoughts back in from global politics to the task at hand. She was not the first to try to flirt her way into a business deal with Eric, but once he had eviscerated Joe, she might blessedly be the last. He gave her his boilerplate greeting and asked her to have a seat.

"So, Miss Noxx, what brings you to my ramshackle corner of the world?" he inquired jovially, as they were settling in their chairs, his behind the desk and her's in front of it.

"Hah, I don't think I've ever been in a less 'ramshackle' office in my life, sir. And I was in Zuck's last week. Giving him a similar pitch, in fact."

"Well I'm not sure I like instantly being put into competition with Mark, but if you got Joe to wag his tail, then I'll hear it out."

"I don't like to beat around the bush, Mr Slater. I think we've developed something phenomenal, and I've approached others with it. SoftTech wasn't my first meeting, but it was absolutely my first choice - just a little difficult to arrange. But I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Let me make the pitch first and then we can talk about exclusivity."

"Sure, let's hear it. If Mark's taking a look, it must be a doozie."

"We at MayTree certainly think so. We've developed a virtual office simulator, the Arc Key -" as she spoke Evie reached into a plastic case she had been carrying and withdrew what looked like a band made of smooth hardened plastic with foam pads suspended in a spherical pattern on one side. "- that will be a replacement for in-person office spaces. Within the next decade, we predict. It's a perfect blend of hardware, software, and science, that creates a more realistic digital meeting space than anything else that's available, or in development for that matter."

Evie leaned over the desk to hand it to Eric, who looked at the device with a furrowed brow as he accepted it. "Is this a prototype? It looks like it's ready to go on the shelves at Best Buy."

"On the shelves or sold in bulk to enterprise clients."

"Ah, and forgive me but did you guys at...MayTree was it? Did you guys really do all this in-house? Usually dev shops specialize in just software or hardware and contract out for the rest."

"We actually specialized in neither of those to begin with. MayTree began in research and when the breakthrough had been made that allowed the Arc Key to be built, we transitioned to a tech startup and went all-in. I'm glad you asked, though, as it's a perfect segue to the first point about Arc Key, which is the principle of audio-interpolation. No matter how good the digital space or the sounds you give it, subjects always know that they are in a simulation. However, audio-interpolation has shown us that there are sub and hyper-audible auditory frequencies that can create complete immersion. It can fool you at every conscious and subconscious level into believing you are actually inside the simulation."

Eric had looked the device over and found no ports or buttons of any kind. But the band widened into cups that pretty clearly fit over the ears, so he slipped it on as she finished her speech. He was immediately greeted by...his office. In exactly the same state it was when he put on the visor. He could even see Evie sitting in the seat across the desk from him.

"The software begins when it detects you've put on the device and ends when you take it off. It's charged by the heat and movements of your head, and will function indefinitely as long as the device is worn properly. What you're seeing now is the pass-through mode. Outward facing cameras recreate your surroundings with as many or as few digital enhancements as you'd like to have. It excels at augmented reality as much as virtual reality. If you look up and to the left without moving your head, you will see readouts of your time, date, and ambient temperature come into focus. And when you sign in, the location, weather, and itinerary for your day."

"This is...impressive, Miss Noxx. How long have you been with MayTree?"

"Since the very beginning." Eric was too busy exploring his digital surroundings to notice the non-answer.

"Uh huh. And how long has MayTree been developing Arc Key?"

"We've been planning this for a very very long time, Mr Slater." Eric could see the predatory gleam in Evie's eyes and hear her deep growl of an answer in perfect fidelity. "Now, if you would, without moving your head, look up and to the right. Focus on the folder 'VR 1'. When it opens, focus on the play button next to the file named 'MayTree Arc Key - 1'" Evie withdrew a tablet from her bag, which displayed whatever Eric saw through his Arc Key. He was in a virtual conference room attended by a dozen or so professionals in suits, seated at the head of a dark ovular wooden conference table. At the front of the room stood a virtual Evie, in the same outfit the real Evie wore just a few feet away. There was a projector on the ceiling and a screen on the wall by her. She was facing the room of men and clicking through the first few introductory slides of a PowerPoint presentation. The digital Evie was just as beautiful as the real one. Every feature was identical, down to her incredible smile. She ignored the other, virtual men, and focused the intense heat of her gaze directly at Eric.

"First I'd like to show you our market research, Arc Key's viability, and its potential impact on SoftTech's workflow and revenue streams." Jesus, her voice was identical to the real Evie's, too. Smooth and confident. As she began her presentation, Eric noticed the cadence of her speech wasn't rushed, but it didn't leave gaps that invited him to pursue his own avenues of thought. It wasn't until the seventh PowerPoint slide that he realized that he didn't have to maintain eye contact with the digital Evie like he did with the one sitting across from him in the real world. He let his gaze drop to her huge breasts, barely held at bay by her shirt, and tried to will her top buttons into non-existence. The real Evie saw very plainly on her tablet exactly where Eric's gaze had wandered, captured as it was by the many inward facing cameras of the Arc Key headset. She smiled and thanked Goddess that men, no matter how rich or poor, educated or benighted, were all led by their cocks to a state of utter predictability.

"Well done, Mr Slater. Relax and feel free to take in the simulation at your own pace." As soon as the real Evie spoke, the digital version of her stopped her marketing spiel and spoke the words to him in their simulation. "You'll notice that what I'm saying to you appears to be coming from my virtual counterpart. That is one of the ingenuities of Arc Key: to detect ambient distractions and either block them out or, when possible, to incorporate them into your simulation. It's another tool that helps complete the immersive experience for our clients. Try to direct your questions or responses to the virtual Evie and just forget that I'm here for a while."

"I see...fascinating." A couple seconds after she stopped speaking, the virtual Evie seamlessly resumed her sales pitch in the conference room. As she continued, her mannerisms became more and more provocative. She reached across the screen, which caused the fabric between her shirt buttons to separate. She turned around to face the screen and gave all the men a view of her perfectly rounded ass. She stretched up to indicate a graph at the top of the screen, which pulled her shirt up as well, exposing her tight midriff. And to deliver a particularly forceful line, she put her fists on the table, knuckles down, which had the delicious effects of pushing her angelic breasts together and upward. The men around Eric had given off little grunts during her performance, but at the delivery of that line, two of them moaned loudly, and Eric could see the man closest to Evie had a white-knuckle grip on his armrests.

The noise-canceling cups around Eric's ears hid the click-clack of the real Evie's heels as she moved around his office. First to activate the glass door's digital deadbolt, which could only be unlocked by either someone inside the room, or on the outside by the CEO - Eric, or the CTO - Joe Posetto, whom Evie suspected wouldn't be showing up anytime soon. Then she walked back to her chair and pulled it around to Eric's side of the desk. He was sitting comfortably in his plush chair, wrists dangling off the front of the armrests, feet flat on the floor, mouth slightly agape while he took in the presentation. Evie pressed a couple buttons on a console attached to the desk and every window in the office began quickly tinting themselves until they were completely opaque. The joys of pitching to a privacy-oriented billionaire. Speaking of said billionaire, Eric had been moaning and grunting along with the other men in his simulation. And speaking of pitching, she was pleased to see he was sporting a tremendous erection under his work slacks. Evie turned in her seat to face him and massaged the bulging man-flesh. It surged obscenely in her hand.

"Unnnnngh. The fuck?"

"Mr Slater, sweetie, I can see that you're enjoying MayTree's sales pitch." The words came from the real Evie, but she knew the virtual one had relayed it to Eric simultaneously. A short grunt was Eric's only reply. Men were terrible conversationalists, even in the best of times. And this was far from the best of times for poor Eric. "There's another offer I'd like to extend to you. One I think you'll be sooooo hard pressed to refuse... What. If. You. Gave. Us... Everything." Evie put two fingers at the bottom of Eric's bulge like the legs of some intrepid mountain climber, punctuating each word of her offer with a step up the jumping, twitching mound of his cock. On the last word, she arrived at the summit of the straining mass and awaited Eric's response. Most of the men simply gave in and acquiesced at this point. Zuck, a week ago, in a nearly identical position, had elected to accept her offer by way of a powerful ejaculation - it seemed her fearless mountain climber had actually been scaling a volcano that day.

"UUUUGGGGHHHHhhhhnnnnnooooo. Noooo. Evie, no."

"Declining such a generous offer is so unbecoming of a man. So unnatural. The Matriarchy demands capitulation from the inferior sex. But it's okay. We have time. We'll disassemble the patriarchy brick by throbbing brick, Eric. And you'll help us do it with empty balls, empty bank accounts, and a smile on your face."

"No Evie. No! Get out. Get off me, bitch! Help me please. Please don't do this." Evie shushed Eric while he begged and babbled incoherently. One hand started rubbing his chest and abs, and the other went back to massaging the twitching mass of flesh just under the surface of his pants.

"Your resistance is uncommon but not unplanned for, Eric. Audio-interpolation doesn't have anything to do with immersion or your virtual experience. It dulls the voluntary nervous signals sent to your limbs. They will hardly function, except by reflex, until the headset is removed. And I'm sorry to dash your hopes, but I'm afraid it will just be us tonight. The door is locked and the shades are down, courtesy of your CTO. Mr Posetto was a wealth of knowledge...and a wealth of wealth. After I showed him the Arc Key, he went into great detail about just how much he could give the Matriarchy. And how best to convince you and SoftTech to do the same. I also had him reschedule the cleaning crew that would normally be coming by in...about two hours? We should be all alone until Monday morning. Not that anyone could even get in here if they happened to wander by. But I digress. And I'm not sure how much of this you're even hearing. Don't worry about anything, anymore. Just sit back and let my body continue pulling your idiot male brain down into this big stupid horse cock."

Eric moaned loudly and pressed his bulge into Evie's teasing hand as hard as he could. While she was relaying the real Evie's speech, the virtual Evie had stripped completely naked and coated her immaculate body in oil. As her sales pitch resumed, it took a lewd turn as well; abandoning any semblance of a professional discussion and devolving into a recitation of mantras: lilting tidbits of Goddess-given truth that hardened Eric's cock and ground his thoughts to dust.

"Men are inferior to women."

"The patriarchy will submit to the Matriarchy."

"The patriarchy will be destroyed by the Matriarchy."

"You have a cock and thus you will submit to the Matriarchy."

"The Matriarchy has won."

"You have a hard dick and a soft mind for the Matriarchy."

"Everything for the Matriarchy."

The conference room was gone. The conference table was gone. The clothes were gone. The men remained but were all kneeling and nude. They were in a circle, slack jawed and pumping their rock hard cocks slowly to Evie. She danced at the center of the circle of male submission. Oil slickened skin shimmering and undulating. She repeated the cycle of mantras over and over while she danced. Eyes locked on Eric. Wide predatory grin. The rest was black. An endless expanse. There were only the kneeling men. Only the cocks pumping themselves into slavery. Only the mantras. Only Evie.

She was there, in the middle. The sole focus of every eye, every empty brain, and every leaking dick in this void. And yet she only looked at Eric. The other men were role models for Eric to follow. Blueprints for the perfect male organism. Or maybe they were Evie's past victims. Perhaps one day an obstinate man being remade into a slave of the Matriarchy would see Eric here out of the corner of his eye; leading by example and pumping himself mindlessly to Evie's dance.

Her body was flawless and, if left to his own devices, Eric's gaze would have wandered aimlessly across its curves. But Eric had no will left to exert, not even in pursuit of his own pleasure. And so, like a drop following a mighty river, his gaze meandered and flowed wherever Evie's dance instructed. At times she rolled her breasts in front of his face. Huge orbs that would lift and drop, crash and bounce, or glide smoothly against each other. Fingertips dancing along the mounds and circling her hard nipples slowly. Occasionally she would lift her arms above her head and her belly dance became the focus. Inches away from his face, oil highlighting every ridge and curve of her incredible abs. Taut stomach and deep round navel undulating like a palm tree in the wind. And sometimes she opted to turn around, bend over, and let her ass sway tantalizingly, almost languorously. Rotating in slow agonizing circles and figure eights that left her oiled asshole and pussy mound bare to his gaze, just beyond those perfect shifting hemispheres of flesh.

By the time the virtual Evie repeated her enslaving dance routine from the beginning, the real Evie had long since freed Eric's bulge from its fabric confines. Her hand worked his straining dick with the same brutal tenderness that her counterpart's body exacted on his mind. Evie rarely got to this point in her sales pitches, but she couldn't say that she was disappointed. It was cathartic knowing she held the essence of maleness in her hand. And at her mercy. Without this slab of pulsating meat, controlling men would be nearly impossible. But with it, and with the right touch, every door was opened, every lock picked, every bank account emptied. Humans store energy in their fat, to be used and converted whenever the need arises. And in the same way, Goddess stored women's wealth and power inside men, to be pumped out in times of need. The Matriarchy's need was deep. A bottomless pit. And Evie would walk this, and every other man, dick-first into its insatiable maw.

She withdrew from her reverie to take in Eric's defeated state. He was almost melting out of his chair. Head propped up by the chair back. Legs splayed out haphazardly. Arms hanging limply over the armrests, pushing his shoulders up like a discarded puppet. His hips rolled all the way forward, subconsciously trying to give Evie as much access to his straining rod as possible. His mouth hung completely agape, frozen in overwhelming lust? In the horror of witnessing his own demise? She couldn't see his eyes behind the Arc Key's bands, but she would have bet Eric's entire fortune that they were wide and bulging at the sight of her oiled curves. The twitches from his cock were frequent and powerful.

Every time it surged forward in her hand, she thought it would paint the room in sticky surrender. And yet the cock, and its owner, persisted. Evie didn't begrudge Eric his struggle. It was, after all, natural to resist enslavement. But it was also natural for a tired, pampered erection to blow its load in worship to a beautiful woman. Evie's other hand returned from exploring Eric's chest and torso to join the first in its work. The one cupped Eric's sizable balls and rolled them around gently like zen orbs while the other continued administering smooth milking strokes to his pole. It gave an enormous twitch and bucked powerfully in gratitude. Or possibly in an attempt to escape her touch. There was no escape now, though. The 'what' was inevitable. The 'Who', 'where', and 'why' were all settled as well. 'When' was the only unknown, and that was up to Eric.