Synthetic
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2009 by aplgirl

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - 'Renee is a young "synthetic human." Bought by a dominating man who sees her as little more than a sexual plaything, she struggles to retain her identity - and her determination to escape - as her free will dwindles away.' Note: Although there is both a story and romance in the tale, there is a lot of rape as well (and not the story rape where the victim likes the rapist/being raped; I find that sort of thing kinda ridiculous).

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Ma/ft   Ma/mt   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Rape   Mind Control   Slavery   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Humiliation   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Slow  

Claude grinned to himself when he first spotted the girl. She was all he could have asked for - and had. Madame Therese's specialized in the production of made-to-order synthetics. Want one who worships the ground you tread on? Or maybe one who detests you? Or more, one with a pathological fear of the opposite sex? Girls and boys in every shape, size, color. Any feature you could want. Every one with her own unique personality and characteristics.

Even with the tanks, though, it took some time for them to grow. Claude had waited three years for his.

She shifted from tiny foot to tiny foot at the station, peering nervously at the passerby. She thought she was waiting for her uncle's chauffeur. Therese's allowed you to customize their memories, if you wanted. Most customers chose to simply pick the characteristics, then allow the story-editors to do the rest.

But Claude had wanted to own his girl completely. He wanted more than her emotions - he needed her soul.

Her name was Renee D'Aubigne. Her parents had died when she was an infant, leaving her to the care of a nearby convent for the first fourteen years of her life. She'd a rebellious nature, which had led to more than one confrontation with the Sisters. She was strong for her age, and active. Her favorite foods were apples and raspberries. She had never met any males, and from what she had heard of them, they were something to be avoided. She knew of sex in an abstract sort of way, simply that anyone who was involved with it - at least, according to the sisters - was polluted.

A few weeks ago, a shocking discovery had been made - Renee was not an orphan. A single uncle, mistakenly filed as 'deceased, ' was, in fact, alive. After learning of his relative wealth, the convent had presented him with a bill for the years of care given, and more for its continuation. He had politely declined the offer, choosing instead to take care of the girl himself.

Renee, along with her meager possessions, had been packed away and sent off, despite her protests. She'd fallen asleep on the ride to the shuttle. At this point, the sim ended. The operators had sedated, disengaged, and transported her to the real shuttle. She'd arrived at the station alone, with only a Sister's hurried instructions to guide her.

Claude watched as she clutched her small bag a bit more tightly whenever a man hustled past. Her jet black hair curled over her shoulders, to the small of her back. It'd been designed to never tangle, and it shined brilliantly in the afternoon light. More than one man found his gaze upon her lithe form, and she glared fiercely until they turned away.

He took one last sip of his mix, and sauntered over to the girl.

"Renee D'Aubigne?" He asked her back.

She flinched and spun around. "Who is asking?"

Claude grinned. He had specified 'bold'... "Claude Montague. Your uncle, I believe?"

"Oh!" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. Pleased to meet you."

Claude stared at her hand for a moment. "Quite." He turned without shaking. "If you'll follow me..."

She rushed to follow his long stride.


Claude's home - nearly a mansion - was on the outskirts of the city, with acres and acres of unspoiled land surrounding it. He eschewed the modern fashions, furnished the house instead with replicas of the Victorian era. It had cost a fortune, and a second one to maintain it, with countless mechanical servants. Renee gazed about herself with undisguised awe.

"It's so big," she whispered. She set her bag down and wandered to the nearest bookshelf, reading each title hungrily.

"Don't touch that," snapped Claude.

She froze, nearly grasping a tome.

"Those books are for show only," he growled. "I don't want them soiled. Understand?"

"I'm sorry ... I didn't realize-"

"I didn't ask for excuses," he said. "Do. You. Understand."

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to discern if he were really serious. " ... Yes. No touching the books."

"Good. Now go upstairs. The first room on the right is yours, and there are new clothes inside. Change and come down for dinner."

"Okay."

She is going to need quite a bit of instruction, Claude mused to himself, watching Renee race up the stairs. And more besides ... perhaps a bit too impertinent...

He laughed suddenly. Too impertinent? That simply made the process a bit longer. The initial sauciness would make the final product all the sweeter.

It only took a moment to key in dinner, a few seconds more for it to be ready. He sat idly at the lengthy table, but impatiance soon overtook him. Surely it couldn't take that long to change outfits? He needed to discover cause of the delay.

Logging into Renee's mind was much easier than all of the sims he had been practicing on. Synthetics had a linear thought process, so 'mind-reading' was relatively simple. It was an extra, though, and was nearly as costly as the girl herself.

But it was worth it.

-expect me to wear this ... I'm not a tramp!

In truth, the clothes weren't promiscuous. The majority were (admittedly, short) skirts, sun-dresses, and some camisoles. But with the "cover everything" dress-code of the Sisters, such things would seem a bit on the loose side.

But he did go to all the trouble to buy them for me.

It doesn't matter! I am wearing perfectly suitable attire. He shall have to exchange them.

He cut the connection as she left the room, awaiting her arrival. A shiver of excitement ran up his back. Her first rebellion, already! He would have to crush it immediately. Set the correct tone.

She marched into the room with her head high. He stood up before she could speak, and strode in front of her.

"You are not wearing the clothes I gave you," he said softly.

"No," she replied stiffly. "I didn't-"

"I bought them for you to wear. Go put them on."

"Excuse me?" Her gaze hardened. She stood her ground, even though Claude towered above her. "I shall not wear clothing to which I object."

They stood at a standstill.

"I see," he murmured.

He slapped her across the face.

She nearly fell from the heavy blow. She reached for her face, upon which a welt was already rising. Claude leaned in close, he could feel her panting breath.

"Again, I was not asking you a question. I will explain this once." She began to back away, but he gripped her chin. "You are in my house, and you will obey my rules. You will address me as either "master" or "sir," and you will do as I tell you." He gripped her chin tightly, then released it. "Understand?"

She glared at him balefully. "Yes."

He slapped her across the other cheek and she gasped. "Yes-?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Excellent. Now, go and change for dinner. It will become cold."

She left, more slowly this time.

When she returned, she was wearing the longest sun-dress, it ended an inch below the knees. Her cheeks were rosier than before, but no bruises seemed to be rising. Good. He had requested extra durability; her bruises would be there, but they would not show, and any other injuries should heal fairly quickly.

An icy silence prevailed over the meal. He allowed it, and only clucked as she rose from her seat.

"I did not give you permission to leave the table."

Renee stared at him, then sat back down. "May I leave the table, sir?"

He took another sip of the soup. Swallowed. "No."

He could nearly feel her anger.

" ... when may I leave the table?" she asked. "Sir."

"When I choose to grant you permission." He resumed his meal.

She shoved away, clearly deciding she had had enough. She had barely taken one step when Claude utilized the conditioning software that had been packaged with the syn.

She screamed and collapsed to the ground. He waited for three seconds as her limbs twitched violently, trying to escape the pain.

Then he turned it off.

She lay there, nearly hyperventilating. "Wh-wh-what-"

"What was that?" She nodded and he smiled. "'That' was a shock designed to cause you a specific level of pain. You only experienced the first level, however. There are eight. I suggest you start obeying me." He waited until her shivering tapered off. "Now, go sit in your chair, and await my dismissal."

She shakily climbed into her it.

"Good. You are dismissed."

She left without a word.


Claude had been expecting the knock. He'd spent the three hours after the dinner listening in, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. The confusion, however, had soon given away to more pressing matters...

"Enter."

She crept into the bedroom, and stood an inch from the open doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

"Yes?" Claude asked.

"Sir. When the Sisters sent me here," she stammered, "they-they gave me a thing..."

"And?"

"I mean, they said they sent the other part ... to you. For me." She paused, hoping he would nod and hand it over. Instead, he gestured for her to continue. "A key, I mean. I need it. Sir."

"For what?"

She whispered something.

"Pardon?

" ... to relieve myself, sir."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "You need a key ... to piss? That makes little sense..." He wanted her to say it aloud. But she didn't know at all what a chastity belt was called, and her embarrassment was such a treat.

"No ... sir. Just- do you have the key?"

He lifted it from the table and held it in the air. She stepped forward with relief.

"Not yet," he held it back and she stopped. "They never specified what you were going to use this on. Show me, and I'll give it to you."

"But-"

"That was not a question."

The blood rose to her face. "O-okay." She took a deep breath, and gripped the edges of the dress. Another breath.

"Okay."

She pulled it up, then immediately released. The belt had barely seen the light, but he had finally seen the delicious extent of her legs. He already wanted to touch them ... to hold them apart, and-

"Oh," he said. "I see." He tossed the key at her. She missed it, scrambled on the floor, and more or less dashed from the room.


The first night, he just watched her. She sprawled carelessly upon the giant bed, on top of the warm comforter. The nightgown was barely a few inches past her hips. The finely woven threads were all but transparent; her budding breasts swelled against the fabric. The long curls were a halo around her head; she was an embodiment of temptation...

But not yet.


Renee was quiet the next day. Claude peaked into her mind from time to time; he knew she was brooding, and also planning. She was thinking of various ways to escape his home, but she had settled on none, yet. He didn't press her.

He set her to simple tasks, such as organizing the vast number of relatively worthless books in the library, or polishing the banisters of the staircase. He caught her reading once; he tore the book out of her hands and ripped it to pieces. He shocked her too, for good measure. She needed to learn not to slack on the jobs.

He left her crying on the floor, surrounded by the shredded paper and book stacks she had knocked down.


The second night, he allowed himself the luxury of brushing a stray curl from her face. Her eyes fluttered in the midst of some dream; he knew he could have looked into it, even altered it, or created another. He contented himself to observing her body.

It was truly a work of art. Even though he himself had designed it on the terminal, had been able to glance at the file as often as he had liked, seeing it in the flesh ... it made his blood hot. She slept with an arm above her, another to her side, her legs invitingly wide.

He felt himself begin to harden-

Not yet.


She skipped breakfast; he chastised her for her absence during lunch. Her apologies were hollow, but he knew he could force the sincerity later. He let it go.

Renee made her attempt while he was in the bathroom. He didn't even need to check her mind to know she had left the house. He could feel the alarm, a sharp prick above his left eyebrow.

He took his time, and washed his hands. He heard her groans as he wandered back into the main hall, but he didn't discernibly speed up. She was on the front steps, barely six feet from the open door. He crouched down to her curled, whimpering form.

"Renee," he murmured. "I instructed you not to leave the house, did I not?" She said nothing. He turned the pain up a notch, and she cried out. "Answer me, Renee. Did I command you to remain indoors?"

She nodded frantically, but he waited until she choked out an affirmative before lessening the shock.

"Can you explain why you chose to disobey me?" He lowered it a bit more.

"I'm- I'm sor-"

He cut her off with a fresh blast of pain, barely a second's worth, and she screamed anew. "Answer my question."

" ... I c-can't explain m-myself, sir."

"I see." He stood, and stared dispassionately at her quaking form. "I do frown upon escapees, Renee. And actions must have consequences. Hmm..." He frowned thoughtfully. "What to do. Should I leave you here, until you learn your lesson?"

She sobbed. "P-please..."

Claude rolled his eyes. "Very well." He pulled off the rest of the shock. Watched as she crawled back inside and leaned against the wall.

"Now, Renee, do you understand what will happen if you attempt to leave the house again?"

She stared at the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He closed the door. "You have ten minutes to pull yourself together. After which, you will return to your chore. If I don't find you there..." He left the threat in the air.

She was organizing the books with single-minded determination when he returned.


On the third night, Claude had planned to observe again. Perhaps brush away her hair. He found her unexpectedly under the covers, even though it was much too warm for them. He leaned against a wall and watched as she drifted further into dreamland, pushing the covers further and further from her sweaty form all the while.

Her nightgown was bunched around her waist; her curls clung to the sweat at her brow. He could smell her, and it almost drove him over the edge.

He finally reached down and stroked her baby-smooth stomach. She quivered under his touch, and smiled for a moment in her sleep. He kept stroking her stomach, pushing the nightgown higher with each pass. He didn't stop until it was held in place by her arms, and both of her slight breasts were displayed.

He continued the massage, and she seemed to slip further into sleep. He paused occasionally at her breasts; sometimes cupped the emerging things, or tweaked a nipple between his rough fingers. She didn't stir.

He moved lower, to her right leg. He caressed it, and her thigh, then her inner thigh- her breath hitched for a moment, and he froze, certain she would wake. She didn't, but he decided that that was enough for this night.

Tomorrow- tomorrow was his.


Renee ate her meals silently. She did her work, silently. She didn't speak out of turn. Claude wished he could attribute it to his discipline, but he knew the truth - she was feverishly searching her mind for a way to escape, again. She thought of him only when he was in her vision; he was not yet the center of her world.

He sapped her strength as she went to bed, yet another control the syn company gave their customers. He was conflicted about that- he wanted her to fight, certainly. But he wanted her to feel helpless too.

In the end, he decided that he had better break her fast and hard. If she had the illusion that she could oppose him, it had best be dispelled quickly.


Claude gave himself time. He gathered tools. He mentally prepared himself. She was sound asleep when he finally entered the room. The covers had been kicked away again, but this time the nightgown was disappointingly in its proper position.

No matter.

She woke instantly, feeling the change in the mattress as he kneeled onto the bed. He straddled her right leg, trapping her as her left ineffectively closed, prevented from locking against him. He shoved her back down as she tried to lean up, held her down by her chest, and easily handcuffed her flailing wrists together.

"What are-"

"Quiet," he snapped, shocking her for extra effect. She jerked once, but didn't speak again.

He smiled and pulled her from the bed. She immediately tried to run, so he shocked her once more. She fell to the ground, stunned.

Claude grabbed the chain holding her wrists and dragged her to the wall. Her eyes cleared as he lifted her one handed, looping the chain over a hook in the wall.

She stood on her toes, barely able to reach the height from which she was suspended.

"W-what are you doing?" The fear laced her words like a poison. "Um. Sir."

He punched her baby-smooth stomach and she began gasping for air. "You will call me "master." None of this "sir" nonsense, not tonight." He pulled out the knife and her eyes went wide.

He grinned at her panic, but only cut the two straps that held the nightgown upon her delicate frame.

Finally, the whole masterpiece was revealed. Everything as he had imagined. The perfect breasts, just starting to bud. The dark, untangled hair almost covering them. The creamy skin, flushed, now.

He stared, completely transfixed. Hungry.

It only served to alarm her more.

"Sir-" she began. He raised a fist, and she shifted abruptly. "Master, w-w-what's happening?"

He smiled. She was still trying to regain control of the situation. How cute. "Renee," he said. "I have been too lenient. Don't make me punish you. If I wish for you to speak, I will invite you to do so. Understand?"

"B-but-"

He shocked her. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

He shocked her again, stronger this time. It took her nearly a full minute to stop shaking. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, m-master." She hung her head.

"Good girl. Smart girl." He crouched down, cuffed each ankle, and ran the separate chains to the two hooks. The chains were much too long.

"Spread your legs, Renee."

She sniffled. "What?"

He sighed. Sometimes it did take a lot of reinforcement for the lesson to sink in. He shocked her. She arched away from the chains, quite possibly straining her wrists.

"That was for your failure to address me properly," he said. He shocked her again, before she had a chance to recover. "That was for speaking out of turn." A final time. "And that was for disobeying my order."

She was crying, but the pain had caused her whole body to spasm. She'd inadvertently obeyed. He tightened the chains around her ankles as she regained her composure. She realized too late, and fruitlessly pulled her knees together.

"There now." He caressed a cheek. "That's much better."

She recoiled from his touch and gazed into his eyes through a wall of tears. "Please let- Master, please let me go."

Already begging, and he had barely begun. He felt it begin to harden.

"Shh." He put a finger to her lips and ran his other hand to her breast. "I told you," he whispered gently. "Do not speak out of turn." He twisted her nipple and she cried out.

"Shh," he crooned. He looked into her frightened eyes and smiled. "I'll kiss the- the ouchie, little one, and make it all better." He bent down, and gently kissed the smarting area. It was already hard; he licked around it, and tenderly nipped the nub.

She squeaked.

He reached his other hand below, in front of the hidden place between her legs. He pet the lips; she tried to escape, pressed away from his questing hand, but there was only wall behind her.

"Now then," he murmured. He removed his own nightgown with two quick motions. Her eyes were instantly drawn to his solidifying organ.

"W-what is-"

He grinned and grabbed it with his spare hand. "Never seen one of these before, have you?" Of course she hadn't. He'd given her nearly no knowledge about the opposite sex.

He suddenly dipped a finger into her and she gasped. He laughed. "I'll be putting it in there."

She stared the growing thing, and then at her own nether region. "You- you can't," she said wildly. "It's too big!"

He smiled. "I'll make it fit." He released the swollen member and stepped closer. It was just brushing the lips-

"Wait!"

He paused for a moment, and as she opened her mouth to say something, he plunged upward.

The chains cut into her ankles as she was lifted from the ground.

"Ah-" she half screamed, and then she was touching the floor again. She breathed a sigh of relief, then realized- "Don't-"

He rammed, shoved his penis deeper inside, breaking the thin barrier, and driving aside and tearing through the tight walls.

He maintained the thrust, and the more she writhed to escape, the further he entered her body.

"Stop, stop," she moaned. "Please take it out! Please!"

"What, don't like this?" He shook his hips and she shrieked. "And it still has a few inches to go."

"It hurts-" She dropped to the ground suddenly. "Pl- Master! Please!"

Too late. He stabbed upward, and it sank in to the hilt.

"Oh god," she cried. "Please stop please please pl-"

He cut her off with more thrusts, and her words soon became whimpers. He bludgeoned deep inside her one last time - she screamed - and spent himself.

"Ah..." He held her hot form in his arms, as his tight muscles relaxed. Stepped away. He unlocked the cuffs around her ankles, and then her wrists. She sagged to the floor. He caressed one tear-stained cheek. She flinched back, but he let it go. "I'm going to wash up," he said. "I suggest you do the same. I shall see you at breakfast."

He left.

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