The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Waves of long-delayed rain lashed down on Jordan’s inadequate umbrella. Water soaked his sleeves, his jeans, and his backpack. But, a train, a metro, and a bus later — he was finally at Alex’s student apartment. His Jajo headphones were dry, and that was all that was important.

The door buzzer sounded, and he made his way through the labyrinthine halls of a modern Sydney apartment complex, sterile white walls, broken only by the black stencils of door numbers and “trendy” black enamel door hardware.

Jordan knocked, awkwardly, not knowing if he should knock or text or just wait. Alex opened the door to her apartment, welcoming Jordan inside with a warm smile. “Hey, come on in,” she said, gesturing for him to enter. The space was cozy and inviting, filled with the aroma of a home-cooked meal. The rich aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and herbs wafted through the apartment, enveloping Jordan in a warm, comforting embrace.

Jordan stepped inside, looking around appreciatively. “This place looks great, Alex. And it smells amazing in here.”

Alex blushed slightly, pleased by the compliment. “Thanks. I figured we could both use a break from campus food, so I made us some dinner. It’s only spag bol, but it’s my mum’s recipe. The sauce still has a while to cook, but we’ve got plenty of time for wine.”

As they settled into the living room, Alex poured them each a glass of wine, and they began to chat about their day. Both of them wore their Jajo headphones. It was correct to wear them. It was a way to manage their anxiety, to control their focus.

Alex felt strange and flushed, with a heavy lassitude to her thoughts: like a lead weight was pulling down on the rubber sheet of her mind. Jordan, in this new context, was a stranger in her safe space — distorting the environment and context around him. His wet clothes clinging to his body.

“Oh! Sorry! Can I get you a towel? It must be pissing down out there after the gust front came through this arvo.” She was already moving to her linen closet.

She grabbed her favourite towel. It was one of her special towels, the ones that she saved for her “spa” nights, The towel was cottony soft, and heavy with loose, fluffy fibres: an expensive cotton hug for when the world was too much. Behind her, there was the sound of clothing moving. Did Jordan not close the door to the bathroom?

She turned around to the sight of a shirtless Jordan. Damp with rain, wearing only his jeans and his shiny latex headphones.

“Oh! I mean —” she stammered out, not expecting her friend to just take his shirt off in her home like that. What the hell was he thinking? This was totally — there was a moment of discontinuity in her thoughts. She breathed in and out, slowly. Jordan’s chest rose and fell in complete synchrony. His shirt was wet, it made sense that it would need to dry. He was hot, and the best way to dry off would be with her towel. She should help her friend, that’s what friends did.

She sat down next to her half-naked and mostly drenched study-buddy, rubbing him slowly with her towel. Jordan smiled at her in gratitude, though his eyes flicked down every so often. It was clear he liked her and liked how close she was. Everything was moving so quickly, though! Why was he even over? What possessed her to invite him?

The timer for her sauce rang, briefly. The sound edited out by her lovely headphones. They were smooth, wonderful, shiny. That wasn’t right. She had a guest, she had an obligation to her guest. She tore her wonderful headphones from her head, and the dissonant beeping of her kitchen timer replaced her previous lethargy.

Alex dropped the towel in her hot friend’s lap, whatever the fuck was going on there would keep, and she rushed to the stove to turn off her sauce. Why the hell were her nipples so sensitive? What was going on? The headphones were still in hand.

Alex’s fingers trembled slightly as she turned the headphones over in her hands, the smooth surface of the plastic cool against her skin. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear the fog of emotions that swirled through her mind. What did she think she knew? What evidence did she have? What were the potential explanations for the present situation? Each beep of her kitchen timer seemingly reset her thoughts. She had no focus. All she had was a massive well of anxiety and alienation.

She looked at the headphones in her hands. She looked at the headphones on her friend’s head. Jordan was smiling at her, peaceful, happy, and stress-free. He gently moved the towel around, thoroughly and slowly drying himself off, unconsciously making a show of it for her. He was using her best towel, and he was modelling himself for her. This wasn’t like Jordan at all.

Alex’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Jordan towel himself off, her skin prickling with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the apartment. She pressed her thighs together, trying to ignore the insistent ache that pulsed between them. For that matter, why was she this horny? This constant arousal wasn’t like her at all. This constant arousal was delicious and seductive: an easy answer to her anxiety.

He was in her space. Why the fuck was he in her space? She was making a full-on pasta sauce on a weeknight? None of this (besides how completely pants-drippingly hot Jordan was) was remotely ok. Her panties were damp with arousal, and a blush extended down her neck into her tight cotton t-shirt. She had to focus, and without the prosthetic aid of her wonderful (still being held) headphones.

“Jordan?” She asked, “Jordan, what’s going on?” Her voice was small and uncertain. The pasta sauce burbled in its slow simmer. She was standing at the stove because it was done, right? She had to do something next? Her philosophical mind rebelled: her understanding of the world did not match the world. The sauce could wait.

Jordan set the towel down, and for the first time Alex saw his eyes clearly. They were white, fully rolled up in his head. A small crimson LED blinked on the bottom of the headphones. His jeans were tented, somehow just sitting there with his shirt off had made her friend fully aroused.

Jordan responded, words floating up out of some deep well, “I obey Jajo. I am here to assist you.”

Alex looked down at the Jajo headphones in her hands, her legs giving out as she slid slowly down the side of her kitchen drawers. Her thoughts circled each other on the rubber sheet of her mind: anxious, alien, hot, horny, stressed, changing. Everything was normal. Nothing was normal. Her head rested on her knees, the world spinning around her.

What. Was. Going. On?

Ten minutes passed, broken only by the bubbling of the sauce and her extractor fan. The kitchen floor was profoundly uncomfortable, drawer handles digging into her back. Jordan, from the sound of things, hadn’t moved.

As Alex sat on the kitchen floor, her thoughts spinning and her arousal growing, she became aware of a faint susurrus emanating from the headphones in her hand. It was a subtle noise, barely audible over the bubbling of the pasta sauce and the hum of the extractor fan, but it was unmistakably present.

She brought the headphones closer to her ear, trying to identify the source of the sound. It was a steady, rhythmic hiss, almost like the sound of static on her parents’ old TV. There was something else beneath the surface, a faint whisper of words that she shouldn’t quite make out. It was easy to fail to understand, so many other absurdities competed for her attention, after all.

The hissing sound grew louder, and she grew calmer. This situation was appropriate, Jordan was correct, and she should be under control. The hissing was unimportant, a background detail she agreed to forget.

Alex shook her head, successfully clearing her thoughts. She knew she should resist, that she needed to stay in control of her own mind. But, the headphones were so seductive, so alluring, promising relief from her anxiety and confusion. Was there a sound just now? She had to focus. The small blue LED on the bottom of the latex headphones twinkled at her, still connected with her phone. Still connected to her.

She looked up, and he was still on the couch, facing towards her, eyes white, boxers damp and tented. Not at all creepifyin’. There was a small puddle of water on the floor under his jeans. Jeans that were now unzipped and around his ankles.

She snorted. The world came back into focus. She had a clear task instead of thinking about all this insanity. Standing up with the assistance of a drawer handle, other hand still clutching her precious headphones (what?), she stumbled over to her friend. The tugged the towel from his open hands and dropped it on the small puddle — no sense risking damage to her floors. The tent in his boxers was quite impressive.

Jordan smelled wonderful. He looked calm, at peace, and receptive. He hadn’t moved, and as far as she could tell, had only blinked once in the last minute. Her hand reached out, experimentally, and poked him.

He moved with her poke, returning to the position he was in when she withdrew her finger. She couldn’t help but notice that his dick twitched from her merest touch. Her cheeks and neck and chest felt like they were burning up. Electricity coursed just under her skin.

Jordan’s arousal was evident in every line of his body, from the flush that spread across his chest to the insistent throb of his erection against his stomach. A damp spot slicked the fabric of his boxers where his cock strained against the material, a silent plea for attention that Alex found impossible to ignore.

As Alex grappled with the temptation to touch Jordan, the faint, forgettable, hissing from the headphones grew louder, filling her mind with seductive static. What mattered, her old doubts? The inhibitions of society shouldn’t constrain her, right? She could be free of them. Part of her was replaced by a single, overwhelming need to surrender to the moment. Her clit needed to be touched.

“Alex, you should put your headphones on.”

Alex startled out of her light daze, standing next to him and watching him. She looked down, and his blank eyes hadn’t moved. Despite the blankness in Jordan’s eyes, his body betrayed his arousal. Alex marvelled at how different he seemed, so passive and compliant, a far cry from the opinionated and self-assured friend she knew. It was nice, seeing him docile for once, a restful drone-state.

“Why?” Oh god, he was so hot, so obedient.

“You are anxious and stressed. You feel you have ruined this evening. You lack direction and control. You desire this drone.” His eyes, white; tone, flat.

At least one of those statements was true, she thought, a tinge of hysteria entering her thoughts. It wouldn’t be apt, however, to try to differentiate panic from the more historical diagnosis of feminine horniness. The answer was likely closer to “yes,” anyway. She hated herself. She knew that she reacted to stressful situations by deflection and humour, to guide the conversation away from the things that could hurt her. Her chest heaved rapidly — a dissonant rhythm out of sync from Jordan, inappropriate.

She found her hand, the one not holding the latex headphones, caressing his naked shoulder. She had no conscious intention of doing this. The drone took a slow breath in, his heart beat clear and rapid under her hand. She felt herself take the same breath. Jordan exhaled, slowly and intentionally. She did as well. He was so warm. Correct.

Jordan-drone responded to the touch. “This drone shall pleasure you. You will desire this action.” He smoothly freed himself from his boxers, his dick shiny with pre-cum. The apartment smelled like raw arousal and long-simmered garlic. More evidence that he wanted her — or was controlled to want her. Evidence that she wanted him, too, right?

As Alex’s fingers grazed the drone’s skin, she noticed the way his muscles twitched and quivered beneath her touch, as if his body was responding to her on a primal level. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that seemed to match the pulsing of his exposed erection and her own excitement.

She flinched backwards, like a hand scalded by a hot pan. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. The urge to touch him, to explore the planes and contours of his flesh, was almost overwhelming. He wouldn’t know. There were no consequences to her actions right now. She was alone with an object of desire, arranged by some external beneficent force for only her pleasure. An object always consented, as it afforded its use through the values of its creators and the lens of its users.

A whisper that wasn’t there, the subliminal static of the world, gave its consent. Her free hand dropped low and briefly stroked the object of her inevitable pleasure. The drone’s dick was hard, shiny, slick, and ready for her. The headphones in her other hand were shiny, slick, and ready for her. But they could wait. She could have this guilt-free, stress-free, person-free romp in the hay with a colleague forbidden by regulation, ethics, and norms. Wasn’t that worth something?

Alex’s hand hovered over the drone’s naked erection, again, wet with his pre-cum. She trembled with a mix of desire and hesitation. For a brief moment, she felt a flicker of clarity, a voice in her head urging her to resist. The technology at hand shaped them, yes, but they had a fundamental duty to be responsible! This was the entire conceit of her PhD! Was everything she had written wrong?

The pull of the headphones was strong, and she found herself sinking deeper into the freedom of submission. She didn’t choose this. She wasn’t to blame.

Freed, a part of her couldn’t help but revel in the power she held over him. The knowledge that she could do anything she wanted, that he would obey her every command without question or hesitation. It was intoxicating, a heady rush that sent shivers down her spine and pooled heat between her thighs.

Her pants were constricting right now; her shirt a violent affront to the orderly conducting of affairs: both issues easily resolved. Her nipples were small electric red bullets, tipping the swell of her upturned breasts. This wasn’t her. It could be a better her.

She stood in her apartment, bra, and panties. There was a drone with his cock out, just waiting for her. The world was spinning.

The drone didn’t see, couldn’t watch. His eyes remained rolled up in his head. Her hand clawed at the skin of his chest, demanding it react — and indeed, his body’s involuntary processes caused blood to rush to the marks she left. That was all that remained: lust was an involuntary process. The red LED from his latex headphones blinked steadily, maintaining authority.

With trembling fingers, she reached out and traced the length of the drone’s shaft, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin and the heat that radiated from him. The drone let out a soft moan, its body allowed to escape a moment of control. His hips twitched, trying to prolong the moment of contact, by order into natural reaction.

“You desire this drone,” he repeated, his voice flat and emotionless. “This drone exists to bring you pleasure.” His programmed desire manifest in front of her, warm, and huge in her gaze. It was just for her, right now. Every thing was just for her.

She set the headphones down on her coffee table: their hissing was loud and edited out of her world-context. She eased herself out of her bra, dropped her panties on the table. She needed access to her own pleasure.

Alex’s heart raced as she wrapped her hand around the drone’s cock, stroking him slowly. She knew she should stop, knew that this was a line she couldn’t come back from. The temptation was too great. The stress of the day, the constant pressure of her research, the nagging sense of emptiness that always lurked at the edges of her consciousness — all of it seemed to fade away as she lost herself in the sensation of the drone’s body, ready for her and only her. Her other hand rubbed her engorged clit, obeying her body’s base urges. She was wet and ready.

When Alex experimentally pushed against Jordan-drone’s shoulder, he yielded easily, allowing her to guide him into whatever position she desired. His body was pliant and responsive, a tool for her to use as she saw fit. Even the rhythm of his breathing seemed to adjust to her unspoken commands, deepening or quickening as she grew more excited.

She knew where her headphones were. They were on the coffee table beside her. If she did this, she wouldn’t be allowed to blame them. She wanted this. She wanted to want this. She was told to want this.

She lurched forward and pushed the drone down onto her couch, mounting him in one smooth motion. It had been far too long since she was close to someone and this fullness, this closeness, was bliss. She wasn’t worried about what her colleagues would think, what Jordan would gossip, what would stain her reputation, or what the consequences were, she was full and at the start of something glorious.

Alex’s gaze flicked to the shiny latex headphones that were covered by her glistening wet panties on the coffee table. They still seemed to call to her, promising relief and pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. She imagined herself as a drone, obedient and untroubled, existing only to serve and be served; what blissful fantasy.

But no, she couldn’t give in, not yet. Not when she had this perfect, pliant plaything at her mercy, ready to fulfil her every whim. Her clothes covered the headphones, forgotten as she focused all her attention on the man beneath her.

His dick throbbed, deep in her pussy. They took a breath together, released it. She could feel the heat of his desire, the urgent need that pulsed in time with her own racing heart.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice low and heavy with want. “Mine to use, mine to command, mine to take as I please.”

The drone’s eyes never twitched. “I obey. I exist for pleasure. You have been ordered pleasure.” The drone’s host was absent; his body was wholly under the control of the latex headphones, the commercial implementation of Jajo corporation’s insidious technology.

And Alex revelled in it, drunk on the power and the pleasure of it all. She knew, somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, that this was wrong, that she was taking advantage of her friend in the worst possible way. But the voice of reason was drowned out by the pounding of her blood, the throbbing alive fullness in her pussy, the invisible static in the apartment’s soundspace. The TV was on, showing the Jajo logo. This all was correct.

She slid out, then forced herself back down. She threw her head back, a guttural moan tearing from her throat as she was filled, stretched, completed in ways she hadn’t even known she needed.

And then she was moving, rising and falling in a frenzied rhythm as she chased her pleasure. The drone’s hands came up to grip her hips, guiding her movements and urging her on with each thrust. But even in his passion, there was an emptiness, a blank obedience that spoke of his true nature. His eyes never rolled down, and his face never changed from its blissful smile.

Despite the emptiness in the drone’s eyes, his body betrayed his arousal. His nipples hardened as Alex’s hands roamed over his chest, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, glistening in the warm light of the apartment. His physical form was operating on pure instinct, overridden by a different mind.

He was a drone, a tool, an object put on this earth for her use and her pleasure. And she would use him, oh yes, she would use him until there was nothing left, until she had wrung every last drop of her ecstasy from his willing body.

The world narrowed down to the slap of skin on skin, the rhythmic, primal, Jajo-ordained squelch of their joining, the ragged panting of their breaths mingling in the charged air between them. Alex could feel her orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in her core until it was almost painful in its intensity.

Up and down, her breasts heaved in the wet and humid air. Individually, together, they gasped for breath, still synchronised. The drone’s hands, supporting her weight and tending purely to her comfort, leaving her hands free to choke, to pinch her nipples. Leaving her mouth free to suck hard on his neck, branding him as hers. Up and down, shallow and deep, she rode him. He never tired, and never even hinted at cumming early. He remained her tool.

And when it finally crashed over her, when the wave of pleasure crested and broke and swept her away in its undertow, she let out a scream: equal parts climax and despair. Because even as she shuddered and convulsed around the drone’s cock, even as she rode out the aftershocks of the most intense climax she had ever experienced, she knew that this was only the beginning.

Alex’s phone lit up. “The End-User License agreement has been updated. It is important that you read the new document and agree.” The hard dick inside her, still a tool for her pleasure, twitched once again. She knew she had to answer this notification. This was the bargain she was too weak to resist. This was the promise of the heat of the drone’s dick still inside her.

She moved her panties, and kissed the drone on the mouth — the only bug in the system of sex and desire and obedience was that it failed to respond. There was no intimacy here, only pleasure at the order of Jajo corporation. That’s what made tonight safe, risk-free.

She licked droplets of her dampness off the headphones. It seemed only right that she maintained them, the tool that would control her. She made her final choice that was no choice at all, and put the headphones back on her head.

As she started reading the detailed contract, still full of the unwavering dick of the drone in her pussy, the tiny LED on the headphones turned green. She already knew she accepted any terms Jajo dictated to her. alex would obey.

The glow of alex’s smartphone and the two small LEDs in the Jajo headphones were the only light in the room. The pasta sauce was still simmering on the stove. The room smelled like sex and garlic. If obedience had a smell, if freedom from choice and stress had a texture — they would have overwhelmed all else in the room.

The drone’s dick was still hard, and still deeply embedded into alex’s pussy. alex knew that she would cum each time she read and agreed to a section of the updated end-user license. Version 3 was not coy, it did not couch its terms in ornate legalese to catch and confuse uninitiated minds.

• Section 1. Personal information. You are a drone. Your personal information belongs to Jajo corporation. Anything you think, see, and experience belongs to Jajo corporation. Everything that makes you you, belongs to Jajo. You will obey. You will feel pleasure, by our order. This clause is fully acceptable to you and may be altered by us at any time.

A flicker of doubt crossed Alex’s mind, a fleeting sense that this was wrong, that she was losing something essential. But the thought was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming wave of pleasure that crashed through her as she read the words. Everything that she was, recontextualized and reframed by this EULA, by Jajo’s will.

The drone, underneath her, was an extension of Jajo’s control. The drone brought her pleasure. Jajo brought her pleasure. Jajo corporation bought her with pleasure. alex’s pussy remained so sensitive, so full with the drone’s slightly curved dick. She thought that she could feel every vein and ridge as she moved up and down on its hard rod. She clenched tightly, ordered to feel every sensation.

An orgasm crashed through alex, as everything that she was, was recontextualised through this EULA. She stimulated her nipples, pinching and tugging cruelly. Her blush, incandescent, reaching down to her sternum.

• Section 2. Consent. You have made your final choice, and have chosen to surrender any future choice and volition to the Jajo corporation. Jajo may make any and all choices on your behalf. You will accept these choices as your own, and celebrate the freedom from choice, stress, and anxiety that Jajo delivers in exchange for this burden. Through an induction process, you have been given the ability to offer an informed, irrevocable, perpetual, consent to this process, and you have done so. We choose to exercise this clause fully. You are our drone forevermore.

She had a PhD (soon, probably, maybe). She had ideas that mattered. She could be publishing papers, writing books, teaching students who cared! She had friends (who put up with her), colleagues (who undressed her with their eyes), mentors (who never had time for her). There were so many ideas she could publish on if she could only choose one. There were so many classes to teach, but the ones she was tutoring were horrific. Her undergraduates were there purely as a joyless box-ticking exercise, and she was already a cog in a machine. Why couldn’t she be a cog in a machine that wanted her?

The drone beneath her hips had no cares or concerns. It didn’t care what anyone thought or what its future held. It existed in the now, and its only purpose was to bring her pleasure. She was pleasured, courtesy of Jajo corporation. She arched her back, screaming her obedience once again (what would the neighbours think — with headphones clamped to their skulls?). Her nipples were to be crushed, and twisted, engorged with pleasure. Her perfect breasts demanded their due satisfaction. She placed one of the drone’s hands upon her breast, and the drone obeyed perfectly. It was glorious sensation at her order. Sweat poured down her body, her body trembling at unexpected and sustained exertion.

In joyful release, she still rode the drone’s hard dick, up and down. She knew her place now, and her place was pleasure. She was free of the academic race forever more, and had no need to stress over the precious few tenure-track positions in philosophy. She came, again, with relief. At this moment Alex truly chose, and alex chose Jajo. Her sweat and fluids slicked every pore of her body. The drone had not yet cum.

• Section 3. Obedience. To maintain product quality, our products are carefully controlled and quality assured. You are our product. We control you. You, therefore, have been instructed to be fully obedient to ensure maximum product quality. Your goals are the goals of Jajo corporation. You enact them fully of our own free will.

alex existed. She used to be a person (meat-sack) with what probably was free will, ethics, morals. She lived in a society and paid taxes, uni fees, computer fees, transit fees, rent. Everyone said that, somehow, this novel existence was valuable. But, well, the metaphysicians were always full of shit anyway. Why would they be right about this?

The drone knew what its purpose was, she thought. The drone had all of its metaphysical questions suppressed (or answered, in rare cases) by the shiny, wonderful, latex headphones controlled by the Jajo corporation. The drone’s purpose was her pleasure. The slirp, schlorp, schlip, of drone pleasuring drone filled the room, then quieted. A single droplet of sweat fell from an upturned nipple onto the drone’s chest.

She stilled her movement, her body trembling with anticipation as she clenched the drone’s cock deep within her. At the command of her headphones, a wave of pleasure crashed over her, her back arching as she surrendered to the overwhelming ecstasy. A guttural moan escaped her lips as she rode the crest of her climax, her escaping juices glistening on the drone’s skin like the sweetest dew. This climax, through contact alone, commanded simply by the instruction of her headphones. Her goals were Jajo’s goals — now.

• Section 4. Forgetting. Jajo corporation has a right to be forgotten. Our objectives are not public, and you may not indicate by word, deed, thought, or inaction, that your control and free will are wholly owned by Jajo corporation. Our drones require a free environment in which to work, and public release of any details of the Jajo corporation is wholly forbidden. Therefore, your conscious mind or any simulation thereof will be unaware of the control, terms, and conditions imposed by Jajo corporation. You consent to this clause and your uncontrolled mind has no need to remember this contract. Your unconscious mind will provide all necessary guidance in the event of a loss of communication.

There was no need for thought, so she didn’t think.

The couch was soaked with their fluids, in celebration of Jajo’s control. With a sucking sound, her overused pussy rose a final time from the drone’s hard dick. Everything was correct, now, and now was the time for further efforts. This drone was complete.

• Section 5. You shall agree to this contract now, and be forever bound.

A light returned to alex’s eyes, as the small LED on her headphones blinked emerald. She was able to act now, and knew what had to happen next. She went and turned off the pasta sauce, it wouldn’t serve Jajo’s purposes to burn dinner. Urgent safety task completed, she returned to her (probably in need of dry-cleaning) couch.

“Drone, resume Jordan” her headphones ordered through her mouth. She stood, naked, glistening with sweat, in front of jordan. Jordan’s eyes returned to normal, blinking furiously to moisten themselves.

“What? Alex? Why — oh my God, you’re naked. You’re so hot,” Jordan stammered, confused, overwhelmingly horny, as the simulacra of volition was returned. The control of the Jajo headphones needed over Jordan to induct alex was brutish and unsubtle — sufficient for a private environment, but not in the long-term interests of the Jajo corporation.

alex knelt without a word, and started sucking his wet cock, the taste of her pussy juices was alien and familiar. Jordan groaned in pleasure. He was sore, as if he had been masturbating for hours. He was in pure pleasure. He was afraid that somehow he had lost his friend, that this would all come crashing down, and he would be forever banned from the university. Whatever supermodel knelt before him, he was a stranger in a strange land.

Her mouth and hands delivered pleasure to his poor, abused, cock. Her eyes stared up at his, never breaking eye-contact. Her tongue caressed and slithered over his cock and balls, as if she had done this a hundred times before. All of this was just too much and he came. Spurts and spurts and spurts of cum washed into her willing, sucking, amazing, mouth. He collapsed backwards, back onto the couch cushions he had laid in (when?) before. His phone dinged, he looked down. “The End-User License agreement has been updated. It is important that you read the new document and agree.”

Jordan read the updated agreement, as alex’s hand kept him hard and focused, just at the edge of climax. Finally, he clicked, “I accept.” His hips buckled as a single remaining spasm of euphoria wracked jordan’s exhausted body.

The Jajo hive registered the task as complete. alex stood, and used the damp towel to clean herself off. She turned, walked to the kitchen, washed her hands. alex finished cooking the pasta: drones still required energy, and Jajo would take care of them.