Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

My Butler James 4: James 3.0

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2014 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: Machine/f; D/s; naked; collar; bond; cuffs; chain; bdsm; paddle; punish; sex; climax; cons; X

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Part 4: James 3.0

I woke in my bed, the one that used to belong to my housekeeper Gloria. My arms and legs hurt like mad, and I was bruised up from both riding the gas pipe and my subsequent tickle torture at the faux heiress' hands. How I got into bed was a mystery, but I assumed James had something to do with that once the faux heiress was whisked away on the chopper. She had all she needed from me for the perfect identity theft, but I just knew there was more to trapping me at the mansion than a complex case of grand theft, just as she suggested herself.

I showered tenderly and found James as if nothing had changed over the last two days, but I knew that couldn't be farther from the truth. He had concerns about my ability to perform my duties with my minor injuries, but knowing the callous way I had treated deficient devices in my own past, (smashed cellphones come to mind), I was reluctant to complain. Just as there was always another cellphone, there was also another me, and her existence made mine superfluous.

I was directed to clean up the heiress' former room first, and other than the mess I had made all over the bed the previous day, it was nearly perfect as she had never even slept in it, or anywhere else for that matter! There were no clothes at all left in her closet or drawers, and just one pair of sneakers, and one pair of spiky knee high black leather boots. The boots were sentimental, but impractical for most things. I had worn them and nothing else to bed at the suggestion of a previous boyfriend once. We made a video of our antics that night, and it became quite infamous on the Internet to the chagrin of my half siblings.

If the boots were left behind to torment me by reminding me all that I had given up, it was unnecessary. Being left penny less as a naked slave in my own former mansion took care of that. My toy box was also left behind, but there was a practicality to that, as well as some irony as it had indirectly caused my present predicament. I caught myself wondering if the heiress was capable of the darker human emotions, like spitefulness, greed, and envy. I knew I had been once, and if she were that much of an exact copy of my former nasty self, it could be her eventual undoing.

The room took no time at all, and all my other chores those next few days as the bruises faded were all routine. James was another matter, he was anything but routine. I caught him more than once preening in front of one of the several large mirrors, and by the end of the week he asked me as casually as possible if I thought this "body" of his was adequate.

When I asked him to clarify what he meant, he complained about the limitations of his present body in uncharacteristic style. "I don't understand most human emotions all that well at all. Security and discipline yes, but there are countless other things like humor that I have no grasp of. On top of all that, I don't look nearly as authentic as a third generation unit does, and my body isn't fully functional like theirs either."

To me it sounded like he had a firm grasp on envy all right, as if he were saying; "The heiress is smarter and prettier than me, and it's not fair!"

I had all I could do not to laugh at him, but he was still my mechanical master, and I would do well not to forget the power he held over me. I also realized this was the only exploitable weakness I had ever seen him demonstrate to date. I had resigned myself to the fate of a slaves life at my former mansion with how adroitly I had been trapped, (at least until the pair decided they didn't need me any longer), but even that life could be made slightly more palatable if James could be taught some useful skills.

"Could you have a new 'body' built for yourself?", I asked.

"I could, but we fail to see the justification for doing so."

I used to consider myself a master of manipulation before finding myself sequestered at my mansion, and as such I knew on instinct the critical point of leverage when the slightest pressure can cause a teetering boulder to tumble down the mountainside crashing into what lay below. James was the proverbial boulder, and I the hooligan leaning up against it. Except in this case the boulder could still do something unexpected and come crashing down on top of me instead...

"Why would you want to 'settle' for an adequate body when you could have a perfect one instead?" I asked, as I nudged the proverbial teetering boulder ever so slightly.

"Why indeed?" he asked rhetorically, and just as quickly the subject was dropped.


The next shipment we received from the chopper had the usual food supplies, plus several locked crates, and one the approximate size of the one the heiress had arrived in weeks ago. The pilots weren't surprised by my lack of clothing this time, probably assuming I lost another bet with James, the fact that I had become business as usual for them was a letdown from my point of view. The large crate was far more important to me though, and I wondered if James had ordered a new James, or something far worse than my last surprise.

I didn't see James for the rest of the day, but that was hardly unusual. I had my assignments and saw to them with the kind of focus that makes the day fly by, and before I knew it dinner was called. I walked into the kitchen to see what James had cooked up for us, (it smelled wonderful), but I stopped dead in my tracks as I approached him from behind. My first thought was that there was an intruder in the mansion, but that was absurd all things considered, and I quickly realized I was staring at the muscular back and legs of the new James.

He was wearing a pair of shorts and a floral print shirt as if he had just arrived from a vacation in Hawaii, and the parts of him I could see were quite impressive. He turned to face me as if surprised I was there, but that made no sense, as with my necklace he claimed to know exactly where I was at all times. The smile came easily to his familiar face as if he were human, and I realized this was not only the new James, but apparently the old one as well all rolled up into one magnificent package.

He asked me what I thought as I looked him up and down in appreciative inspection, but my eyes were drawn to his shorts in the most rude of ways. I smiled, realizing "magnificent package" was an understatement. His body was that of an athletic middle aged man, but barely contained in his shorts was a massive member that presented every detail through the thin material of his walking shorts. It was hard to forget this wasn't a flesh and blood man, but a near perfect replica that was apparently quite happy to see me all the same.

"Wow, look at you" I complimented. I smiled, and he smiled back even harder with my obvious approval. I had to fight the urge to run my hands all over his body, especially his shorts as that monstrous "thing" he had inside of them seemed vaguely familiar.

"Can I touch it?", I asked.

"If you want to." he said with a knowing smile.

I blushed the moment he answered, as I became aware of what "it" he likely thought I meant. I ran my hands over his arms first, and they felt so real, down to the muscles rippling under his "skin". He moaned ever so quietly, almost like a noisy exhale as I felt up his arms.

"Does that feel good?" I asked with some surprise in my voice. I thought at best he might be able to emulate an expected human response to touch.

"I've never felt anything like that. My old body couldn't feel like this one can."

I unbuttoned his shirt next as he looked on suspiciously, and I ran my hands over his hairy chest. "I just love a man with a hairy chest" I purred to no one in particular. Again he groaned at my touch.

"Men have several erogenous zones just as women do. Some of the fun in getting to know a new lover is seeing where they are and how they work. Your upper arms and chest are as sensitive as expected, as well as probably several other parts we have yet to find." I continued my close up inspection of his new body as I became aware of his scent, it was that of a flesh and blood man, as were his respiration and heartbeat, and it had been far too long since I had one of those.

Whatever was in his scent had me boiling, synthetic pheromones if I had to guess. He had me so wound up that I didn't even realize I implied an offer to become his "new" lover. The cynical part of me thought the new James was much more like an elaborate sex toy than a potential lover, but the faux heiress was of the same general design and had rocked me not all that long ago. In either event it was foolish to underestimate either of my mechanical masters.

Would James be a "blank slate" for me to shape as I desired? Or would he just use me for his own purposes and then discard me when I had nothing left to offer? Either possibility could be entertaining, and as I caught myself grinding on his massive thing I wondered if he was as anxious to try out his new body as I was.

"These emotions can be confusing." he said in near monotone. "I feel desire for a form of aggression, much the same as I detect from your necklace at the moment. It is also the same feeling that I both caused, and prevented you from acting on a great many times since I took control of you all those months ago. I now realize not only the magnitude of my earlier cruelty with you, but also the necessity. The heiress was correct in her earlier evaluation as well, my first generation predecessor was far better suited to this duty with it's lack of human empathy."

"Try it, you might like it," I offered in my sultry tone.


The words no sooner left my lips then he scooped me up and carried me to the master suite over his muscular back. I was deposited on my back atop the bed, and James fumbled with my toy box as he cuffed each wrist to it's corresponding ankle as I made no attempt to flee. The heiress was apparently right about another thing, I was a closet submissive, as anybody else would have at least attempted to escape.

James kicked off his clothes, and hiding beneath his tight shorts was what looked like an exact replica of my favorite textured toy, but standing at attention and looking just as real as the rest of him. I could see my inhumanly large toy in my toy box with all the others from where I was positioned, and I confirmed the two were identical. He stood by the side of the bed between my splayed legs and pulled me toward him by my hips.

With my wrists cuffed to my ankles I was helpless to do anything but watch, and when I felt him at my slick entrance he continued to pull me onto him slowly. I squealed in pain as it had been a very long time since anything, let alone a monster like James, had been inside of me. James paused as if he could feel my pain, but I told him to keep going as I bit my lip to keep silent. The pain passed, and I arched my back and had my first orgasm before he even fully impaled me.

He groaned as if he came at the same moment, but recovered when I did and continued to pound me as if seeking another one. The first one caught both of us off guard, but the second one had him pulling out just enough to bump my "G" spot while he roughed up my breasts with large hands. I thought back to the heiress' special treatment of my breasts when she hung me over the gas pipe and whipped me to the best orgasm of my life. James would have to know that I liked it when they were roughed up because the heiress did, and even if he didn't, once he tried he would know how good it felt with my necklace's feedback.

The more I thought about it, the heiress "felt" my powerful orgasm as if it was hers, she even told me she couldn't keep up with me for a moment when I blacked out. Did this mean that the new James would feel exactly what I did? He kept pounding me like a man possessed, and while he was doing everything more perfectly than any man, I started thinking about anything else I could to hold off the next orgasm. Cleaning the bathrooms, dusting the floors, doing dishes, anything that I could think of that wasn't sex.

When I got to sweeping the porch I instantly was reminded of the time I got caught screwing off by James, and he punished me in a most erotic fashion. I was cuffed then as well, but not permitted to cum like I desperately needed to... That thought started my impending orgasm off as James kept up a pretty aggressive pace with my captive body. My breath came in gasps as my back arched wildly, and all kinds of unintelligible noises escaped my lips.

James had his own epic experience at the same time, and I more than suspected his feelings were linked to mine through my necklace. I was a sweaty mess, but James just pulled out of me and dragged a large antique chair in front of the full length mirror, clearly with more things in mind. He grabbed my paddle out of my toy box, and then lifted my exhausted body off of the bed and carried me to the chair. He sat down in it first, and then picked me up and lowered me onto himself with my back toward him, but facing the mirror. I saw the full length of him stretch me and disappear inside of me in the mirror, and with my wrists still cuffed to my ankles I was quite the sight perched atop of James like a bondage doll.

James rotated his hips slightly, it wasn't much movement, but the eroticism of the image in front of me more that made up for the lacking motion. I was bent forward pretty far with my legs near the floor, and my wrists cuffed to them, and James took the opportunity to smack my ass hard with the paddle. I squealed, not in pain, but surprise. He laughed, but it wasn't that sinister laugh that he had adopted from that horror movie he had watched, but one of playful torment. I leaned back on instinct to protect my ass from the paddle with my back up against his hairy chest, but that forced me to lift and spread my legs and arms obscenely as I rode James like a slut. He took the opportunity to hold me up against him with his free hand as he took the paddle with his other and smacked my swinging breasts without mercy.

James knew, just like the heiress did, that it didn't hurt. It was in fact driving me over the top to a wonderful gut wrenching orgasm. The restrained position, the mirror I was watching myself perform in front of, and the eroticism of the entire situation was overwhelming. When James smacked my breasts I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost it, and I don't even remember it well as I passed out either during, or directly afterwards.

I woke in the master suite in the morning, tucked under the covers and feeling wonderfully relaxed, if not slightly sore from James' magnificent performance. I decided that so far I liked this new James better than the old one...

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