a part of my primary programming either but my neural banks had wireless access to the internet and so I caught him out on several errors, though I said nothing.
Mr Underwood imagined, like most humans, that as sight was the primary perceptive facility, anything he did while not being visually observed would not be noted. However as most of my senses were infinitely superior to human ones, I distinctively heard him, while I was in the lavatory, rise and open my laundry basket. It was made of wicker-work and I had deliberately engineered it so that the lid would make a slight cracking sound when lifted. Further shuffling sounds indicated that he was secreting his prize somewhere though, as I could not see, I did not know where and could not accuse him directly of the theft. I waited, therefore, till I was sucking his cock and my finger was inserted firmly up his back passage before I released his member from my mouth and said, “What have you done with my panties, Mr Underwood?”
He started, but with my digit several inches up his fundament he realised he was at my mercy.
“Nothing, nothing, I never took them,” he all but confessed.
“I heard you take them,” I said . “You are a thief.”
“No, no, it is just a little sex game. I like to sniff them while I fuck.”
“I am not Priscilla, I am Robohooker,” I told him, “And you are lying to me. You have been stealing the panties of all the girls in this brothel and if you do not confess this instant I will thrust my finger so far up your ass hole that it will tickle your tonsils.”
At that a look of resignation crossed his face. “They are for Betty, my wife, I like her to wear the panties of you hookers because it excites me. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“You could have purchased our used panties, but you resorted to theft.”
“I had no guarantee that they would be genuine used panties unless I stole them from your laundry basket.”
He said this so plaintively that I saw the logic in his position, but had to insist that, “Madame Pandora’s would sell nothing but genuine soiled panties.”
“Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I will pay for all I have stolen. Jus t don’t call the police. I am actually a famous personage and this would destroy me.”
It seemed that he was actually the actor, John Fitzwalter, and this explained his ability to don other guises and play the part of others. In truth he had no interest in actually fucking we whores, only in stealing our underwear so that it could be worn by his wife.
This mark of romance touched Fifi, who upon being informed of the matter, agreed to dismiss the crime if the girls were reimbursed for their loss, and so ended the matter of the stolen panties, which gained me the grudging appreciation of my fellow whores.
THE ROCK BAND ORGY
As news of my abilities spread, ordinary women such as housewives turned against me as the whores once had. They feared that if the I.R.C.’s plans to make Robohookers a mass market product, available at a very low price, went ahead their menfolk would use their services for sexual pleasure and flesh and blood women woul d be deprived of sex fun and left to act only as breeding stock. This was exacerbated as the strike in the Knee Department looked likely to be resolved shortly and Robohookers would soon be in full production.
The I.R.C. claimed that they had plans for a male Robohooker who would be available to service real women but their bluff was called when they were unable to produce even a prototype. The men on the Board, being very old-fashioned, had not even imagined that women would have such desires and the women directors had not felt able to voice the fact that they harboured a need for cock.
So it was that female protesters, bearing placards reading ‘DOWN WITH ROBOHOOKER’ began appearing outside the Pleasure Palace and on one occasion a brick was hurled through a window. No-one was hurt and Slab rushed out to remonstrate with the
Mr Underwood imagined, like most humans, that as sight was the primary perceptive facility, anything he did while not being visually observed would not be noted. However as most of my senses were infinitely superior to human ones, I distinctively heard him, while I was in the lavatory, rise and open my laundry basket. It was made of wicker-work and I had deliberately engineered it so that the lid would make a slight cracking sound when lifted. Further shuffling sounds indicated that he was secreting his prize somewhere though, as I could not see, I did not know where and could not accuse him directly of the theft. I waited, therefore, till I was sucking his cock and my finger was inserted firmly up his back passage before I released his member from my mouth and said, “What have you done with my panties, Mr Underwood?”
He started, but with my digit several inches up his fundament he realised he was at my mercy.
“Nothing, nothing, I never took them,” he all but confessed.
“I heard you take them,” I said . “You are a thief.”
“No, no, it is just a little sex game. I like to sniff them while I fuck.”
“I am not Priscilla, I am Robohooker,” I told him, “And you are lying to me. You have been stealing the panties of all the girls in this brothel and if you do not confess this instant I will thrust my finger so far up your ass hole that it will tickle your tonsils.”
At that a look of resignation crossed his face. “They are for Betty, my wife, I like her to wear the panties of you hookers because it excites me. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“You could have purchased our used panties, but you resorted to theft.”
“I had no guarantee that they would be genuine used panties unless I stole them from your laundry basket.”
He said this so plaintively that I saw the logic in his position, but had to insist that, “Madame Pandora’s would sell nothing but genuine soiled panties.”
“Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I will pay for all I have stolen. Jus t don’t call the police. I am actually a famous personage and this would destroy me.”
It seemed that he was actually the actor, John Fitzwalter, and this explained his ability to don other guises and play the part of others. In truth he had no interest in actually fucking we whores, only in stealing our underwear so that it could be worn by his wife.
This mark of romance touched Fifi, who upon being informed of the matter, agreed to dismiss the crime if the girls were reimbursed for their loss, and so ended the matter of the stolen panties, which gained me the grudging appreciation of my fellow whores.
THE ROCK BAND ORGY
As news of my abilities spread, ordinary women such as housewives turned against me as the whores once had. They feared that if the I.R.C.’s plans to make Robohookers a mass market product, available at a very low price, went ahead their menfolk would use their services for sexual pleasure and flesh and blood women woul d be deprived of sex fun and left to act only as breeding stock. This was exacerbated as the strike in the Knee Department looked likely to be resolved shortly and Robohookers would soon be in full production.
The I.R.C. claimed that they had plans for a male Robohooker who would be available to service real women but their bluff was called when they were unable to produce even a prototype. The men on the Board, being very old-fashioned, had not even imagined that women would have such desires and the women directors had not felt able to voice the fact that they harboured a need for cock.
So it was that female protesters, bearing placards reading ‘DOWN WITH ROBOHOOKER’ began appearing outside the Pleasure Palace and on one occasion a brick was hurled through a window. No-one was hurt and Slab rushed out to remonstrate with the
Similar Books
