Title: Appearance is everything
Author: Mango Tree
Chapter 2
I was quite strict with my girlfriend for a number of months. I was worried if I’d remove her mask she’d lapse and ruin her carefully constructed new reality. All her communications were filtered through her deepfake-enhanced earplugs and facemask. She was never in the company of another person without me present. If such a situation threatened she backed me up by asking me to be present. Actually, I say she backed me up, but really it was the algorithm that did the talking, but sometimes even I forgot that it wasn’t her talking. Anyway, after half a year it was time to check our progress.
I was excited but nervous when I ungagged her to let her speak freely for the first time. She sat on the couch in our living room and looked all-round amazing. Her corset fit quite a bit tighter than before. This was partly from all the exercise she’d gotten from me parading her about the city for hours. But she’d lost no weight. Also, her boobs were definitely plumper. I’d had to loosen her chest straps a bit, more than once. First I thought she might be pregnant, despite the fact I’d always made her take birth control. Maybe it was a consequence of overstimulating her tits. Not only did they look scrumptious and could I hardly leave them alone, but her nipple inserts had massaged and tickled her boobs from the inside pretty much non-stop. But her ass was without a doubt more pronounced too, so pregnancy didn’t make sense. It was a while later that I realised the true reason: appearance is everything.
She spread her legs for me seductively and I saw her snatch leaking behind the chastity belt. Despite being tied up she sat straight upright, like she was proud of being my bitch.
—So, how are you doing? I asked her.
—I’m unbelievably horny.
—How do you feel about, you know, your situation?
—What do you mean?
I pointed gestured at her body in general. She looked down. Looked back up. Gave me a confused look.
—You know, your clothes.
—They’re my clothes …
—So you not …?
—What?
—… annoyed at me?
—Didn’t you want me to blow you? I’m ready you know.
—Of course, but I’m asking you something.
—Why would you take out that thing if you didn’t want me to blow you? Why would I be annoyed?
—You see no reason to be annoyed?
—These annoying questions maybe.
—Seriously though.
—Babe, I don’t know what you want from me. Just let me suck you dick! You know I’m the best.
She made her most seductive face, her glistening tongue visible in her half-open mouth. But somehow she looked comical. She was used to seducing me with her eyes only.
—I know that. You’re my perfect toy. But I just want you to think hard for a second, is there any reason why you’re angry at me?
—No.
—Any way I wronged you?
—Not enough sex?
—Apart from that?
—Look, I really don’t know. This is me. This is what I am. I’m horny as fuck. Please, please let me blow you?
Her eyes were constantly flitting to my crotch at this point. I lowered my trousers to let my dick spring free. She licked her lips. I went over and put my knees on the couch on either side of her and lifted my dick towards her face. She looked relieved. Grateful. Thrilled. She briefly made eye contact while sticking her tongue out and taking a tentative lick. And another one. Then she smoothly slid my dick all the way into her throat until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. I held her head to help her, as she didn’t have control of her arms. It was good. A bit unrefined, because, actually, this was her first blowjob ever. But in her mind she was the queen of blowjobs.
Enthusiasm made up for inexperience. There was no trace of a gag reflex; she held me comfortably in the back of her throat. She got the theory right too. I’d made sure that was securely ingrained in her mind. Teeth tucked behind her lips. Tons of spit. I fucked her head roughly. She moaned with every thrust. What would cause others severe discomfort was pure heaven for her. When I shot my seed down her oesophagus she climaxed too. Her throat clamped down on my dick and squeezed the last drop from me, as it had been trained to do. But I wanted to be sure.
—Did you cum too?
—Of course. You know that nothing makes me cum harder than making you cum.
—Always?
—I guess that’s just how I’m wired.
Amazing. It had worked to a T. How was I the first person to discover this? Her total enthusiasm greatly reduced the guilt that had been nagging at me. It hadn’t been easy, but it wasn’t exactly brain surgery either.
I decided to explore my results further.
—So do you remember our first date?
—Not again!
—What?
—You don’t have to tell me again. I was there too you know.
—So do you?
She rolled her eyes.
—Why do you always do this? Yeah, of course I do. It blew my mind. It felt like destiny. I knew I wanted to be your bondage slave.
—You know it was special experience for me too? I said. I’m asking because I want you to know that.
—I know babe. I love you! You were so happy when I bought all this bondage gear I’m wearing. Plus the biggest toys I could find.
That part was new to me. But it fit perfectly with the rest. I grinned at her. I was ecstatic. She smiled back at me with misty eyes. I gagged and masked her again. She didn’t resist at all.
—Let’s go out.
I continued to tweak her gear as the project progressed. By all appearances the algorithm had done it’s main job of beating her mind into shape. Continuing to drill in the message You’re my wet, slutty, horny, obedient plaything, bla bla bla was overkill, as long as I continued to use her as my loyal girltoy. I wanted more. I wanted more meaningful interaction between her and the outside world.
The first change was to make her earplugs, the filter separating her from my reality, more permeable. I wanted to bring her experiences more in line with mine. Not least because I was afraid I was dulling her mind. I was having a lot of fun out and about with her interacting with people in public. I didn’t want her to miss out on that. All I had to do was block and modify anything that contradicted her existing programming.
The second thing was to redirect the sexual feedback her outfit gave her to more subtle indoctrination. I could use the tools in her body and her renewed connection with her surroundings to convey to her viscerally what pleased me and what didn’t. The throbbing dildo in her cunt, the whirring plug in her ass, the buzzing plastic cock in her throat, and humming boob massagers in her nipples, they were in a low setting by default, just to keep her wet and ready at all times. At the slightest sign that I liked something—it could audible or visible or even by inference—her toys kicked into a higher setting and gave her sensory feedback. The result was that whatever I liked, she liked.
It was past time for this, because over the past six month I’d done all the housework. And I was fed up. How absurd is it to have, basically, a slave who won’t do any chores? Not only that: without the use of her arms her bodily hygiene was my responsibility. To her credit, she’d done a good job of keeping my dick wet, but apart from that all she’d done was sit around and cum her head off. This ended now. My experiment had worked. Now I would release her arms at home and leave her to take care of things.
At first she didn’t know what to do with her new-found freedom and looked at me for instructions. When I didn’t give her any she absent-mindedly started stroking her body. That wasn’t the idea, so I gave her a few hints and with the positive sexual feedback she got it very quickly: chores were way more fun.
—I’m making roast chicken, with two new types of stuffing for dinner tonight and roast potatoes and honey-glazed carrots, she’d say and I could see the wave of arousal wash over her.
—Today I’m giving the drains a deep clean.
Her butt muscles spasmed in anticipation.
I observed her. Her fine motor skills were atrocious as a result of being tied up, but there was a powerful correlation between well-executed movements and pleasure for her and after mere weeks she was more dextrous than any housekeeping professional. The more precise and efficient her movements were the quicker she’d get that climax from a properly completed task.
So when I gave her some ideas for how the meat could be more succulent and the potatoes have a even better crust, she gratefully accepted the opportunity to improve. Her electronics took care of everything. No need for me to micromanage.
It was so hot to see how eagerly she looked for things to do. Within weeks the place was more spotless than it had ever been, her cooking improved with leaps and bounds. I gave her some very open instructions to read up on interior decoration, gardening, etc. as an experiment to see what home improvements she’d come up with.
I could even use her body while she worked. I couldn’t help it because I got so turned on from watching her. When I first carefully slid my dick between her pussy lips while she was chopping onions it caught her off guard. But she took it as part of her reward and soon learned to cope with my pestering. As long as I wasn’t too rough nothing impeded her.
So at home she mostly had her hands free, but I still never let her leave the house alone or not tied up. As for her being plugged and masked, it wasn’t always necessary inside the house, but I thought it better not to interrupt the feedback loops. She preferred it that way too. She felt “naked in a weird way” (her words) without.
The third major change was to give the algorithm eyes. I installed a number of tiny cameras in her mask, so with the help of pattern recognition the algorithm could make a thorough 3D model of our surroundings and incorporate visual data into its feedback and speech generation.
What inspired me to do this was a hairy situation involving a policeman, in which the algorithm probably saved my skin. I’d somehow completely missed him until he stood beside us. I don’t know for sure what roused his suspicions. Maybe it was that my girlfriend had cum just a minute before. We were standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change and as always her toys were working their magic on her relentlessly. She’d developed quite a fondness for orgasming in public. Maybe her blushing and perspiring and her jittery movements seemed suspicious to him. I had to give him that—he had good instincts.
—Are you alright, young lady?
Imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t been able to answer for herself!
—Yes, I’m perfectly fine.
He voice was calm, composed, and a touch indignant. Still, he took her aside by her shoulder and said something in a low voice. Luckily I could still look at my phone to hear what he said.
—You can give me any signal if you need help.
Unbelievable I thought. How could he know? It was a good idea, but my girlfriend obviously didn’t hear what he said. (What she heard him say was him reminding her of her legal obligation as a personal sex toy belonging to me, her boyfriend, to do anything I asked for, anytime and to meticulously anticipate my needs.)
—Jesus, I’m fine. I’m just wearing a bit of risqué clothing. Nothing to get upset about. There’s nothing wrong with that. Who are you, the Pope?
—I’m just trying to help.
—Yeah whatever, please leave me alone.
That worked. The algorithm had an astonishing situational awareness. It had hit exactly the right tone. And how did it even know the guy was a policeman? Whatever the case may be, with cameras its capabilities would be further improved.
I asked her if she liked piercings and she shook her head. I remembered that a long time ago she’d confided to me that piercings disgusted her. But now something felt wrong about that thought, I could practically see her change her mind. She shook her head more slowly. No, still wrong. She saw my frown and reconsidered.
—Maybe.
I changed my frown into a smile and I knew she’d immediately feel much better. Thoughts of piercings spread a ripple of pleasure through her. She looked up pictures of piercings in the internet and showed them to me, asking me what I thought. Some of the more bizarre ones made me wince and she instantly dropped them, but others I could picture her with.
Days later she begged me to take her to a piercing studio. She wanted her tongue pierced and her bellybutton and her pussy in no fewer than three places! She wanted a bar vertically through her clitoral hood and a mirroring fourchette at the bottom where her inner pussy lips met. In addition she’d become convinced that she needed a Princess Albertina, an exotic piercing through the wall between her vagina and pee-hole. I had to read up on it and concluded that it had great potential for both me and her.
So I found a guy who would do these piercings. When he asked her if she was sure about this, she vigorously nodded.
—Do it mister! said her mask.
After the wounds had healed, I surprised her with a set of sturdy barbell piercings. The surprise part was that after putting them in they sprang to life and softly vibrated in concert with all her other feedback loops.
—Oh god please, do me now!
I slid my dick into her pussy and relished the vibrating point that moved down the top of my shaft from the tip to the base. Pistoning in and out the smooth metal of the pulsing piercing teased my dick and her joyfully spasming pussy massaged it. Within half a minute a came inside her.
—What do you think? Good present?
—I love them! I love cumming and I love making you cum in me! she said it with full earnestness and conviction.
The bellybutton one was an interesting one. Normally the bellybutton isn’t an especially erogenous zone. There are no sexual nerve endings. But vibration and pleasure came so hand in hand with her that a vibrating bellybutton piercing must be pleasureful. Sure enough, soon stroking her bellybutton had a similar effect to diddling her clit or massaging her boob. When she had both hands free to play with herself, one hand might rim her bellybutton while the other plucked at her nipple.
With these additions she had to learn how to walk in her high heels all over again as the new toys made her knees go weak at the most inopportune moments. For weeks she had to fight to keep her composure at all times. That she powered through so stubbornly gave me huge respect for her resolve.
One thing I didn’t see coming was that she started getting off on embarrassment. Granted, she’d surely felt intense embarrassment before, from the moment I first paraded her about in her strange getup, but I expected it to go away as she got used to being my fucktoy. But apparently the opposite happened: as with other aspects of her behaviour, her embarrassment reinforced itself. I guess her mind must have seen a causal link between her embarrassment and her arousal. And we’ve already seen the awesome power of the mind. Whether something actually exists is secondary. If she saw it, her mind created it. Appearance is everything.
What made this strange is that originally embarrassment should not have been something she felt a lot. Not only was she not a person prone to embarrassment, but we also didn’t spend more than a few hours a day outdoors. Most of her time was spent at home, where no one could have seen her, and there was no reason for her to feel embarrassed. I suspect that she might have felt it in front of herself. What she saw in the mirrors all round the house was a cause for feeling it. Maybe she blamed herself for not having been able to escape. Maybe she felt shame for feeling weak. Maybe it was the residual negative emotion after all others had been blunted.
However it may be, her embarrassment was reinforced by her reflection which she constantly saw everywhere at home. Since she was also aroused all the time—I made sure of that (though I set all her toys on low during the night so she could sleep)—she linked the two. And a link turned into a cause. Arousal caused embarrassment and embarrassment caused arousal.
Once I realised this it was natural to exploit it. The more people were around her, the harder her dildo should vibrate. Every time someone glanced at her, her clit and pee-hole should receive a sharp jolt. Every dirty comment her ear caught her plug would get a kick and her butt clench around it. When I pinched her ass or flicked her nipple in public her tongue should throb and the gag spasm in her throat. This way attention led to both embarrassment and arousal.
But for this to work it was necessary to walk the thin line between immodesty and restraint. For neither that which is perfectly hidden nor that which is flaunted can be a proper cause for embarrassment. Rather, it resides in the zone between the two. I had to continue to tie her up and restrain her in public. If she were free to act on her lust I was afraid she’d lose all sense of shame, spiral into public debauchery, and just end up in a psychiatric ward. I continued keeping strict tabs on her. But her hotness and arousal had to be on display to a degree to keep the feedback loop going.
The cameras had one other huge advantage. I could condition her to have the hots for other women. It was a simple matter of giving her a burst of pleasure whenever another beautiful women was in sight. Since I tied her up I’d been getting a kick out of flirting with other women in her presence. There wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Now the goal was to teach her to love it and to actively help me.
When she realised that the presense of beautiful women gave her a thrill, she started asking me about what my tastes were. Who did I find attractive and why? What about that woman in the yellow dress over there? What about those girls on the grass? What about that girl who lived three houses down? There was no hint of jealousy. Whatever pleased me gave her pleasure. She was a fast learner now. The algorithm could distil a lot of information from a very few hints at lightning speed. The cameras she could spot a hottie in a large crowd in a flash and alert her to it. She without fail steered us towards her and took the lead.
It turns out that having a sexy, kinky winggirl with you really changes the game. Normally most women aren’t that open to being chatted up, especially hot women, because they get that shit all the time. But when it’s a guy and an alluring crumpet like my girlfriend, some are thrown off and become intrigued. Getting numbers was way easier than back when I was single.
I saw no reason why any barrier in her mind should be insurmountable. She previously didn’t have a lesbian bone in her body, but since the toys in her body only kicked on when a hot babe appeared she certainly lost all interest in all men—apart from me of course. (I even tested her with porn. All men left her completely cold.) But women—hot women—got her juices flowing. In the process my girlfriend made my taste of women her own.
As far as my girlfriend was concerned there were two kinds of people in the world: sexy women we might have sex with and everyone else. We were sitting at a bar and it was clear the cute barmaid with the black halter top and matching black lipstick was in the first category. I could tell that with every glance she was getting increasingly antsy as vibrations on her body egged her on.
My girlfriend chatted her up and lobbed a few compliments her way. Every compliment had an immediate effect. I could see her squeezing her knees together tightly.
—I love your top, she said.
—Thanks, said the cute barmaid.
Shudder
The barmaid walked off to serve some other customers, but she returned and they chatted. Her name was Celine. My girlfriend was dying to give her another compliment, but algorithm was teasing her by just talking casually. She told us about her terrible manager. My girlfriend shares some stories of awful jobs she’d had. They were entirely fictitious, but amusing. The algorithm had redone her biography and it now included shitty jobs in grimy strip-clubs. Then she met me and I turned her life around.
—How did you guys meet?
—A dating app, answered my girlfriend. It was love at first sight. Do you believe in love at first sight?
—Not really.
—I do. I know it’s real. I felt it when I first saw my boyfriend is one of a kind.
I laughed.
—It’s true, I said. Tell her the story.
She told Celine the story. Not the raunchy debauchery-filled story that she heard herself tell, but a cute, sexy, just-a-tad-too-corny version. Celine raised her eyebrows at the suggestive parts. But she became visibly more curious.
—And after that… everything just felt so… right. I feel like I belong to him. And our bodies are made for each other.
—And you’ve been together how long now?
—Oh, it seems like forever to me, said my girlfriend giggling.
—And you think everyone can experience that?
—Yes, I do.
—I can’t imagine it happening to me.
—I’m sure it will. You’re so pretty!
My girlfriend’s eyes briefly lost focus. She loved giving hot girls compliments.
I gave Celine our phone number and told her to call in case she wanted to hang out.
Much later, after midnight I got a phone call.
—Hey, this is Celine… from the bar earlier.
—Hey! You called!
—Yeah, this party is a total dud. Like is that invitation from earlier still open?
—Of course! We’d love to have you.
—Alright, I’ll be there in half an hour.
My girlfriend looked at me with hopeful eyes.
—Was that her? she asked.
We’d finished off the night with shower sex. Now shower sex is tricky at the best of times. But all the more so if one of the partners is tied up all the time. But I’d had the bathroom redone. A spacious shower cabin and mirrors everywhere. And in the cabin an adjustable stainless steel, rubber padded frame to aid in washing her, which double as a sex chair on which I could fuck my girlfriend in any which way.
But picturing that cute goth from earlier got me in the mood again. Not to mention my girlfriend, who was giddy with excitement.
—Good news, babe, I said.
This was going to be great. It was the first time my girlfriend would speak with another person unfiltered by her mask.
—Hey you guys! I stole this from my boss, said Celine 10 minutes later, waving the bottle. Oh she’s naked…
—Hey, said my naked girlfriend.
Well, ‘naked’ is a big word. She was wearing her towering stiletto boots, garters, corset, bra, and choker. She was beyond excited. Her left hand held a butt plug and pushed and pulled the bulbous part in and out of her ass, giving her sphincter a workout. Her right hand was stroking her pussy. Clear lubricant from both sides was dribbling down her legs. She was breathing heavily.
—Don’t you want to say hello to our guest?
She held out her right hand to Celine, straight from her pussy. She hesitated from a second but then clasped it and shook.
—Can you go get wine glasses, dear?
She traipsed off. Our guest admired her mouthed wow.
Celine was wearing the same as before, but now I could see her from head to toe: a thin black choker around her neck, a black halter top which didn’t cover much and a black shrug which was no more than a pair of long sleeves. She wore a short, black skirt and a chain around her waist and a pair of ankle boots with tall white heels. Very elegant.
My girlfriend returned and set two wine glasses on the sitting room table. She didn’t drink herself.
Embarrassment and lust fought for dominance within her as Celine looked her up and down appraisingly. She poured wine. It was funny to see how tongue-tied she was. She was free to say more, but all that came out was a quickened breath of excitement. I’d asked her if she wanted to put a dress on before, but she’d said no. She clearly wanted to be like this. Because she knew this would turn her on the most.
—Aren’t you drinking?
My girlfriend shook her head.
—So what are you going to do?
—I was thinking, maybe, if I could lick your pussy.
—Wow. Straight to the point!
—Would that be ok?
—I’ve never met anyone quite so eager.
—She can be like that, I said apologetically.
—I guess you could lick my pussy. But slowly. You should start at my toes.
I offered her to sit in one of the armchairs. She slipped out of boots and extended one foot to my girlfriend, who eagerly started caressing it with her tongue.
—I’ve never done this, she said.
—What?
—Meet up with a couple.
—We’ll take it easy, I said. We’ll have some wine first.
I poured.
—So the party was a dud?
—Dull as fuck. People from high school I could never stand.
—Cheers! said my girlfriend sucking on a big toe.
—You’re bi? I asked. You mentioned a girlfriend earlier.
—I’m not sure to be honest. I’ve tested the waters both ways.
—Discovered any preference so far?
—Not really, she hesitated. Have you done this often?
—No, first time! my girlfriend piped in. She’d reached the knee.
—Was it your idea or yours? Celine pointed at each of us in turn. She spread her legs to give my girlfriend more room. She wasn’t wearing panties.
—Mine! I’ve been badgering my boyfriend for so long. And I would have, like, so regretted not getting a chance to hit you up. You’re just too pretty.
—Thanks, said Celine. So this is a first for both of us.
The petite girl blushed, but sat self-assuredly in the armchair. She carefully observed what my girlfriend was doing. A blush was spreading across her chest.
—To be honest, my girlfriend continued between licks, I never cared about boys before I met my boyfriend. I was a bona fide lesbian till I met him. The tears that were shed when he came and took me from them! So yeah, it’s a first, but only in a sense. I’ve seen my share of pussies. And tasted. I’ve been told I’ve a very talented tongue.
Just to be clear, this was utter horse cock. Not that I doubted her sincerity—she no doubt believed it—and yes, the idea that I was the only man that interested her came from me, but a lesbian past was entirely her own—or rather, the algorithm’s—invention. She’d never licked a pussy in her life. And I’ll give her that she was quite skilled in the tongue department, but only with respect to my dick. God knows she’d had plenty of opportunity to practice wrapping her tongue around the dildo gag stuck in her throat most of the day. But I doubted she could meet the high expectations she was setting for herself in the pussy-licking department. I hoped she could make up for it with enthusiasm.
Better put an end to this rambling, I thought.
—Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and show our guest what you can do?
—Hmm, you sure look like a girl who knows her way around pussy.
Well, maybe that was my answer right there.
My girlfriend sultrily shuffled on her knees as her tongue edged closer and closer to the juncture between Celine’s thighs. She reached her tongue towards the bare outer lips, wormed them apart.
—Slowly, babe, I said. No need to rush.
She obeyed me, as she was thoroughly conditioned to, and patiently licked up and down, circling closer and closer to the pot of honey before her. Celine lay back, closed her eyes, and let it happen. I fell silent and watched. She started breathing more audibly and shifting her hips, which I took as a sign for me to move in.
I stood behind the armchair and massaged her shoulders. She relaxed completely. My girlfriend was attentive to what I was doing and when I pushed Celine forward and slid down behind her, she helped by holding her bum and lifted her to make room. The maneuver was done swiftly and now Celine was sitting on my belly and my dick pointed to her cunt. I pushed her down so the tip of my dick was softly pushing against her entrance.
—What are you waiting for? she mumbled.
I increased the pressure and let her envelop me. At the same time my hands felt up her small breast and pinched her pierced nipples.
My girlfriend’s tongue’s attention was momentarily divided between my dick and the pussy it slowly slid into. She licked the length of my shaft until it was gone and then focussed on Celine’s clit again, gently, really only brushing it with the tip of her tongue.
Celine put her feet up on the armchair and I helped by lifting her hips up and down.
My girlfriend also got visibly more worked up, as we got closer to cumming: the anal vibrator and the vibrating piercings matched the sounds of passion in the room. When Celine came, she came, and when I spurted my load in this fresh new pussy and few moments letter, she came again and collapsed onto the carpet, writhing.
Celine collapsed on top of me, panting.