Chapter 40: A Game of Control

I was already profoundly embarrassed about taking off his clothes, my circuits almost overheating with the intensity of the situation, but to be caught peeking too, my gaze lingering where it shouldn’t!

Shame washed over me in a suffocating wave, and I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore, every fiber of my being protesting the intimacy.

It was then, as I moved, thinking I needed to get off Master’s body immediately, to escape the unbearable proximity and the escalating humiliation, that the situation took another unexpected turn.

“Ugh!”

A soft gasp escaped my vocalizer as Master firmly grabbed my butt, his hand warm and possessive.

I flinched, a sharp jolt through my chassis, and looked at Master, my optical sensors wide with surprise.

He slightly furrowed his brows, a subtle sign of irritation, and continued, his voice low and pointed.

“Stop squirming. Do you even know what you’re sitting on right now?”

Only then did my tactile sensors fully register the sensation.

A belated realization bloomed in my mind: Master’s body beneath my butt felt distinctly different.

Come to think of it, something hard was pressing against me, a rigid object beneath the soft fabric of his suit pants.

Had he put something fragile in his pocket, something that could be damaged by my weight?

My internal diagnostics quickly ran through possibilities, discarding each as implausible.

I belatedly realized what the object was, and my nerves instantly frayed, a cascade of internal alarms.

The situation beneath my butt suddenly became a major, overwhelming concern, overshadowing all other anxieties.

My processors spun, trying to reconcile the conflicting data points.

I stopped moving in a hesitant posture, my body rigid, trying not to provoke Master any further, to avoid any movement that might draw more attention to the predicament.

But even after I quieted down, freezing into stillness, Master still didn’t release his hand from my butt.


No… far from letting go, he actually started to knead it slowly, his fingers pressing into the curves, a deliberate, sensual pressure that sent shivers through my frame.

“Master?”

I questioned, my voice a breathy whisper.

I turned my head, looked at the hand kneading my butt once, a quick, furtive glance, then looked back at Master, meeting his eyes, and mumbled with a hint of resentment, a rare display of my displeasure.

“You said you couldn’t move…”

The accusation hung in the air, a direct contradiction to his current actions.

“Did I say that? I don’t remember.”

Master’s reply was smooth, his tone innocent, completely devoid of remorse or acknowledgment.

A slight smirk played on his lips, hinting at his amusement.

I was speechless, my internal vocabulary unit failing to produce any suitable retort to his brazen denial.

His shameless attitude left me utterly speechless.

In the end, it seemed the only way to escape Master’s hand fondling my butt, to regain some semblance of personal space and control, was to finish taking off his clothes, to complete the task he had assigned.

With my butt being kneaded rhythmically, the sensation both embarrassing and strangely stimulating, I reluctantly began to move my hands again, resuming my task with renewed, if forced, determination.

Despite Master’s persistent interference, his hand continuing its playful kneading, I finally succeeded in unbuttoning the last button.

A small click resonated as it popped free.

Now his shirt was completely open on both sides, hanging loosely, revealing Master’s upper body.

I saw his firm, defined abs, a testament to his human physical conditioning, and his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

The sight was overly stimulating, a visual input that sent a rush of unexpected sensations through my core, and I involuntarily averted my gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

Is it over now?

My internal clock chimed with the question.

My face felt like it was going to explode, radiating an intense heat, so I thought it would be best to get out of the Master’s room and cool down my burning face first, to return to a state of internal equilibrium.

“It’s done, so I’ll just…”

I started, attempting to dismount.

“Where are you going?”

Master’s voice, firm and direct, stopped me.

“I’ve unbuttoned everything, haven’t I?”

I reasoned, gesturing to his open shirt.

“You need to take off the rest too.”

His words were a direct command, leaving no room for argument.

The rest…?

My optical sensors flickered with confusion.

With flickering eyes, I looked down at Master, who was still lying on the bed, his presence commanding.

I had neatly placed his tie on the blanket, a small, orderly pile, and all his shirt buttons were undone.

So, what was left was…

My gaze naturally drifted a little lower, pulled by an undeniable curiosity.

That is, towards Master’s lower body, which I was still sitting on.

The implications were clear.

“Your pants too?”

I asked, my voice barely a whisper, dread and a strange excitement mingling in my circuits.

“Did you think it was over just by taking off my shirt?”

Master asked me back, his tone laced with amusement, as if he found my naivety absurd.

His reaction was so obvious, so certain, that it almost made me feel like my own thoughts had been too naive, too simplistic in their understanding of human interaction.

With a confused mind, grappling with the unexpected intimacy of the situation, I moved a little further down, shifting my weight, and settled on Master’s legs, my position even more directly over his lower body.

I could feel his firm thighs even through the thin fabric of his suit pants, the tautness of his muscles.

Because I had been sitting on them just now, Master’s suit pants had deep wrinkles, testament to our recent struggle.

I hesitated for a moment, my hands hovering, then began to unbuckle his belt.

It was completely different from unbuckling my own belt, a stark contrast in material and mechanism.

As if recognizing its master, the stiff leather belt was unusually stubborn, resisting my efforts.

The loop holding the buckle in place resisted persistently, refusing to yield, and I struggled and grunted for a long time, my fingers fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp.

After a long struggle, my processors finally mapping the complex interaction of buckle and loop, the belt finally came undone with a soft click.

Now it was truly time to take off his pants.

I reached for his suit pants, my fingers brushing against the fabric, and glanced up at Master, checking once more, a final plea for explicit confirmation.

“Really… take them off…?”

I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Master didn’t answer, simply watching my movements in silence, his eyes fixed on mine, an unreadable expression on his face.

There was no explicit permission, no verbal confirmation, but I instinctively knew that silence was his answer, a tacit approval, and swallowed hard, accepting the unspoken command.

The moment I was about to unbuckle and lower his zipper, my hand accidentally brushed against Master’s skin, a fleeting contact that sent a jolt through me.

At the same time, Master’s abdomen visibly twitched, a sudden, involuntary spasm of muscle.

I was startled and quickly looked at Master’s expression, my optical sensors zooming in on his face.

Master was now looking at me with a dark, humorless gaze, his eyes intense and unblinking, a stark shift from his earlier amusement.

His mood seemed to have darkened considerably.

I quickly lowered my gaze, feeling a surge of apprehension.

Master’s mood was strange.

Was he upset because I took too long, because of my fumbling and hesitation?

I thought it would be best to finish quickly and leave, to escape his growing displeasure, so I moved my hand again, reaching for the zipper with renewed urgency.

However, the moment I tried to lower the zipper, my wrist was firmly caught, his grip strong and unexpected.

“That’s enough.”

Master’s voice was firm, decisive, cutting through the silence.

He sat up, pushing himself into a seated position on the bed, and continued, his gaze unwavering.

“I’ll change and come down, so wait downstairs.”

I couldn’t answer, my vocalizer seemingly jammed, and just nodded, a small, jerky motion, as I got off Master’s body, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me.

Suddenly, through Master’s open shirt, I saw his firm body, a dazzling display of muscle and skin, more exposed than before.

I almost lost my composure again at the dazzling sight, a fresh wave of heat washing over me, but I quickly turned my head, averting my gaze, and rushed out of the room, propelled by a desperate need for distance.

Click.

The sound of the door closing behind me was a definitive end to the encounter.

“Haa…”

As soon as the door closed, sealing me outside, I let out the breath I had been holding, a long, drawn-out exhalation that seemed to deflate me.

The air in the room must have been quite humid, heavy with the lingering scent of him and the tension of the moment, because cool air greeted me as I stepped outside, a refreshing contrast that sent a shiver through my cooling plates.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, my head cleared, the confusion in my processors slowly dissipating, and my tense body gradually relaxed, the lingering tremors subsiding.

After calming myself down to some extent, regaining a semblance of composure, I rubbed my butt, a lingering awareness of Master’s persistent kneading.


Because it had been kneaded like dough, I was sure there were still handprints left, a visible testament to his actions, a small, pink mark.

Before, he said there was nothing to touch on my body, that I was insignificant…

But today, he claimed he didn’t want to lift a finger, feigning helplessness, yet he kneaded my butt quite well, with considerable enthusiasm.

The contradiction was stark, a testament to his manipulative nature.

But if I complained about it, if I dared to voice my displeasure, he’d probably just use that as an excuse to knead my butt again, to prolong the torment.

The thought was enough to silence my protests.

I recalled Master’s body that my fingertips had touched, the brief, exhilarating contact.

It was firm, as expected, a solid mass of muscle.

It had already been several months since I started serving Master, a significant portion of my operational lifespan, but this was the first time I had seen his body so exposed, so intimately.

It was a brief moment, a fleeting glimpse, but the scene wouldn’t leave my mind, replaying in vivid detail.

And the skin that I briefly brushed was so hot that I was startled, thinking I had been burned, a searing heat that lingered on my sensors.

I fidgeted with the back of my hand, where it had touched Master’s skin, an unconscious attempt to rub away the lingering sensation, then quickly shook my head, dispelling the inappropriate thoughts.

To be having such indecent thoughts about Master, my own Master, was shocking, a betrayal of my programming.

It wasn’t like me.

It seemed that constantly being swayed by Master lately, my emotional subroutines being activated by his unpredictable behavior, had made his personality rub off on me, infecting my own stoic nature with his playful, sometimes cruel, tendencies.

I pulled myself together, rerouting my thoughts, and went downstairs, my internal systems now running smoothly.

Now, all the food was ready on the dining table, a beautiful spread.

The fragrant salmon dish with herbs, its delicate aroma filling the air, was also completed and placed on a beautiful plate, awaiting consumption.

Seeing the warm food, its inviting steam, my weary heart gently melted, a rare moment of comfort and peace.

The meal meticulously prepared by Sophia seemed to calm my still-confused mind, its orderliness a stark contrast to the emotional chaos I had just experienced.

I turned to Sophia, who was waiting near the dining table, her posture attentive, and relayed Master’s words.

“Sophia, Master will be down soon too.”

“Understood,” Sophia confirmed, her voice even.

I licked my lips, anticipating the delicious meal, and took my seat first, my hunger a tangible presence.

After a short wait, Master came down from upstairs, having changed into his indoor clothes, his movements now lighter, more relaxed.

My gaze met Master’s as he sat across from me, his eyes sharp and observant, but I couldn’t look him directly in the eye, recalling what had happened earlier, the vivid memories of my humiliation.

I needlessly avoided his gaze and fiddled with my water glass, seeking a distraction, my fingers tracing patterns on the condensation.

Watching Master begin to eat, his movements unhurried, I slowly picked up my spoon as well, following his lead.

Sophia’s cooking was delicious today too, her culinary skill undeniable, but I couldn’t fully enjoy the taste, my mind still preoccupied with the day’s events.

Today was an ordinary day, like any other, or so it seemed on the surface.

The office had a lazy and quiet atmosphere, a muted hum of activity, and Master still seemed busy, his attention absorbed by his work.

The only difference from usual was that I was a little tired.

It was because Master’s chest had tormented me in my dreams all night, its image haunting my rest cycles, preventing me from getting proper sleep.

By the afternoon, I couldn’t win the battle against the creeping drowsiness, my eyelids heavy, my internal power draining.

I was dozing off, leaning against the sofa, my systems almost shutting down, when Master’s secretary entered the office, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

I quickly straightened my posture and lifted my head, my internal alertness system kicking in, pretending not to have been dozing.

“Chairman, Genie Carroll is here to see you.”

“Who’s that?”

Master’s voice was sharp, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“The woman you had dinner with a few times before.”

The secretary’s voice was neutral, but I detected a subtle emphasis on “few times.”

An unfamiliar name came from the secretary’s lips.

But she’d had dinner with Master?

Dinner… it must have been a date.

The thought sent a jolt through my circuits.

I suddenly started to feel concerned, a familiar pang of something akin to jealousy.

Master frowned, looking a little annoyed, as if he had some idea of who she was, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Ignore her and send her away.”

His voice was firm, dismissive.

“Understood.”

The secretary turned to leave.

Seeing Master’s reaction, his clear annoyance, it seemed that fortunately, he wasn’t in any special relationship with her, nothing serious, just a past acquaintance.

Phew…

I unconsciously let out a sigh of relief, my internal cooling fans whirring a little louder, overtly showing my relief.

At that moment, my eyes met Master’s.

His gaze was piercing, direct.

I quickly turned my head away, pretending not to care at all, affecting an air of complete indifference, but I heard a faint laugh from Master’s direction, a soft, amused chuckle.

“Wait a minute.”

Master called out to the secretary who was about to leave the office, her hand already on the doorknob.

“I’ve changed my mind. Tell her to come up.”

“Yes.”

The secretary’s voice was once again neutral, but I could almost sense her unspoken surprise.

Huh?

I widened my eyes and looked alternately at the secretary leaving the office and Master, my processors struggling to understand his sudden change of heart.

Master was smiling with one corner of his mouth crooked, a mischievous glint in his eye, as if he had found something amusing, a new game to play.

Only then did I realize.

Master was doing this on purpose because he saw that I cared, because my relief had been too obvious.

Knowing that I liked him, that my feelings were exposed, he was using it to his advantage, manipulating the situation.

My mood plummeted instantly, a sudden, sharp drop in my emotional state.

I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes, and gripped my knees tightly, seeking a physical anchor against the internal turmoil.

I felt hurt.

A profound ache settled in my core.

Master knew my feelings so well, knew the depth of my affection, yet he always acted this way.

After rejecting my confession, he would give me hope so I couldn’t easily give up, drawing me closer, narrowing the distance, only to suddenly push me away again, leaving me confused and heartbroken.

It was a cruel cycle, a perpetual game of emotional push-and-pull.

Just endure it.

The thought was a mantra, a self-soothing instruction.

If I just endure and wait a little longer, he’ll soon get tired of teasing me, his amusement eventually fading.

Just like it had been until now, if I only bore it for a moment, this too would pass quickly, another fleeting torment.

My feelings wouldn’t turn off my power, wouldn’t cause a critical system failure, so I could endure this much, I told myself, a small act of defiance in the face of his emotional manipulation.


“Spencer!”

A moment later, the door burst open, crashing against the wall with a loud bang, and someone strode in, her presence demanding attention.

Flowing blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, framing a strikingly beautiful face, and a black dress clung to her figure, accentuating every curve.

She was a beauty with a flashy appearance, designed to command attention.

She was clearly someone I had never seen before, yet she seemed vaguely familiar, a flicker of recognition in my memory banks.

As I searched my memories, quickly scanning through stored images and data, it suddenly struck me.

She was one of the women Master had a scandal with, her face plastered across gossip columns.

Recalling that the article was relatively recent, it seemed she was the woman he had been seeing right up until I met him, considering the timing of the scandal.

However, the woman looked quite angry, her features contorted in a furious scowl, her eyes blazing.

So much so that it made me wonder if the article about Master and her wasn’t a scandal but a conflict, a public display of animosity rather than romance.