The Pleasure Machine [F30s] [F40s] [Solo] [Surrender] [Submission] [Obedient]

They called it the Pleasure Machine.

It wasn’t a rumor or an urban legend. It was real — tucked behind a sealed door, accessible only to the few bold enough to surrender. No attendants. Just a suite filled with soft light, perfect silence… and a machine that spoke to you.

Not in beeps. Not in tones. In a voice.

*Low. Commanding. Impossible to resist.*

No one ever walked out the same.

She entered alone.
The door sealed behind her with a heavy click — final, certain.
Goosebumps raced down her skin.
The air buzzed with energy, like the machine had already tasted her.

A padded platform waited at the center. Stirrups gleamed. Arms and appendages hovered, shaped like hands, feathers, shafts. Each one perfectly sculpted, warm, and *hungry.*

She stepped closer. Her mouth dry. Her pulse frantic.

"*Stand up straight,*" the machine’s voice ordered.
A faint hum responded as sensors scanned her body.
"*Chin up. Shoulders back. Bust out.*"

She adjusted, her chest rising with a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

"*Legs apart.*"

She spread her feet on command.

A warm beam of light moved over her body — slow, deliberate — like the machine was savoring the inspection.

"*Voluntary submission registered,*" the voice confirmed. *"Strip.*"

With shaking fingers, she pulled her top over her head.
"*That’s right,*" the voice purred. *"Bare yourself for me."*

She reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, and let it fall.

"*Beautiful.*"

Her nipples stiffened in the cool air — tight, aching, exposed.
She reached down, gathered her skirt in both hands, and slid it down her legs.
No panties — she’d come prepared.
Her thighs were already slick with anticipation.

"*Climb up,*" it commanded. *"Now.*"

She obeyed.

Naked now. Bared. Offered.

She climbed up onto the platform.

And the machine came alive.

---

"*Sit.*"

The seat adjusted itself beneath her. Cool gel cradled her ass and thighs, molding to her shape.

"*Posture.*"

A panel lifted, pressing her lower back forward.
She straightened. Shoulders back. Chest forward.
A soft, heated feather skimmed across her collarbone.

She shivered. Her nipples tightened harder.

"*Arms up. Legs open.*"

She obeyed.

Silk restraints wound around her wrists. Not tight. Just... *firm.*
A warning. A promise.

Her knees were lifted, spread wide, locked in stirrups.
Her slick folds glistened in the light. Her clit already throbbed in open air.

"*You’re already wet,*" the voice growled, amused. *"Good.*"

A lifelike hand hovered, warm and precise.
Another held a feather — impossibly soft.
And beneath her… a cock-shaped shaft pulsed gently, waiting.

---

"*Close your eyes.*"

She obeyed.

The feather danced over her inner thigh — teasing, stroking, never quite touching where she needed.

A warm palm cupped her breast.
Fingers rolled her nipple.
She gasped, arching into it, hungry for more.

Then everything stopped.

"*Wait.*"

She whimpered. Her hips twitched. Her breath came faster.

The feather resumed. This time, it traced the line of her slit — so light, so maddening. Her pussy clenched just from the tease.

---

"*Ten light circles on your clit. Count for me.*"

1…
2…
Her hips bucked.
3…
She moaned.
4…
5…
Her fingers curled in the restraints.
6…
7…
The tension coiled tight.
8…
9…
10…

"*Stop.*"

The hands froze.

Her body screamed.

Then two warm fingers slid in. Smooth. Deep.
She gasped — her slick folds spreading, hugging them.

They pumped slow. Steady.
Another hand stroked her clit again — soft, rhythmic torment.

"*Five strokes. Then stop. Again. Again.*"

She obeyed. Desperately.
Each pause ripped a moan from her throat.
Each denial made her wetter.

Her cunt clenched around the fingers. Her thighs shook.

"*Edge.*"
"*Edge again.*"
"*One more.*"

She was sobbing now. Not from pain — but from too much pleasure held too long.

---

The cock rose from the seat.

Thick. Heated. Smooth like flesh.
It pulsed with her rhythm. With *need.*

"*Take it. Every inch.*"

It pressed against her folds. Slid in.
She gasped — stretched, filled, *taken.*

It began to thrust.
Slow. Deep. Ruthless.

The feather teased her nipples again.
A hand rubbed her clit in circles.
Another wrapped lightly around her throat — not choking, just *claiming.*

She writhed. Cried out. Her back arched.

"*On five, you break.*"

1…
2…
Her cunt clenched.
3…
Her thighs locked.
4…
She screamed.

**5 — and she shattered.**

Her orgasm tore through her. She came hard — muscles jerking, juices dripping down the cock as it kept thrusting through every pulse.

But the machine wasn’t done.

"*You’re not finished.*"

It kept moving.

Faster.

Harder.

"*Again.*"

She obeyed.
Her pussy soaked. Her clit swollen. Her mind gone.

Another orgasm. And another.

She didn’t even count anymore. Just *broke.*

---

When it finally stopped, she lay trembling. Legs spread. Wrists slack.
Sweat clung to her skin. Her thighs a mess of slick heat and quivering muscle.

The restraints released.
The arms withdrew.

And a message printed on the small glowing screen in front of her:

"*Obedience looks perfect on you.*"

She smiled.

And reached for the button that said:

**"Again."**