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Chrome Finish -- AR526n

This is primarily a science fiction story, but it is also just one of a number of variations on a single story. All of the variations are basically the same, so you can read whichever most appeals to you. They are named in a fashion to make choosing the version you prefer easier.

In each title is a "serial number." That number begins with a letter that signifies the object of desire in the story. The choices are E=employer, A=assistant, F=father, D=daughter, B=brother, and S=sister. At the end of the serial number is a lowercase n (non/consent) or c (consensual). Lastly, some stories end with an uppercase G (the nature of the instigating character is basically good) or B (the fantasizing character is basically bad). Stories that do not end with an uppercase letter to not have variations in the nature of the instigating character.

For early readers... I can only release one story per day (Literotica rule), so if you don't see the version you want to read, just wait. There are a total of 12 versions in all. The available versions will be: BR490n, SR278n, FR737c, BR559c, SR353cB, SR351cG, DR526nB, DR588nG, DR585c, FR252c, AR526n, ER252n.

This story, AR526n, is the non-consent version where the young assistant desires her much more mature employer.

— The Author

It stood in the foyer, glistening chrome, overly sleek, yet bulbous in strange places, like a piece of retro-art, a fifty year old vision of what the future would hold, yet now so far from the mark as to appear comical. Still, it was his first commercial success, and so in a way was the keystone of the entire mansion that surrounded it.

Tyler Eugene McClintock was a powerful man, because he was very, very smart. He knew how to do things. He knew how to make things. He knew how to get what he wanted. Most importantly, he knew how to get other people to do things for him.

Cynthia Marie Landloche was very young, yet more than the most competent of personal secretaries. She was part administrative assistant, part financial wizard, part manager, and part punching bag. No matter how good she was at her job, and no matter how much competence she demonstrated in how many varied, unusual areas of expertise, her boss couldn't and wouldn't leave her alone. He could always find fault, or, if need be, create a situation in which she had to fail. He always had a way to berate, belittle and demean her. He made sure of it.

The mansion had one of the most elaborate and sophisticated security systems in the world. Much of it was custom designed by T. E. McClintock himself, and it was supplemented by a well trained, well paid security force. It would keep out any intruder.

It would protect him from everyone but himself.

* * *

"Mr. McClintock, oh, God, stop! Please, sir..."

He held her squirming form down with his bulk. Her finger nails dug harshly into her flesh, breaking the skin, almost drawing blood. She was putting up quite a fight.

His pants were loosened, pulled down around his thick, hairy, muscular thighs. He felt his bare cock, concrete hard, pressing against the smooth flesh of her leg, right at the edge of her panties. With one hand he tore at their fabric, peeling them back. He heard them tear.

"Please, Sir, no."

His other hand held both of hers together by the wrists, wrenched behind her back and beneath them both. It was no doubt painful, but not too. His bulk smothered hers. Beads of sweat, from fear and her exertions, ran down her temple. He smelled her soft, floral perfume, mingled with his own expensive cologne. He grunted as he struggled to force her into submission. She writhed and twisted, but he was too strong.

She stopped struggling. Her cries devolved into whimpers. Now he was going to take what he wanted. He was going to take her.

She clenched her eyes shut as he shoved his cock up inside of her in one long, smooth stroke. The bitch could fight, she could feign fear and horror, but she was wet for him. He slipped into the slut easily and smoothly, stretching her nicely with his size and girth.

* * *

He had been hammering into his assistant with the insistent repetition of a machine for what seemed like days. In and out, over and over, he fucked her ruthlessly. He smiled at the deliciously, wickedly luscious feel of it all. It was exactly what he'd paid for. It was perfect.

He almost wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

It was amazing what they could do, what he could do, these days with silicone, carbon filaments, and pseudo-synaptic dense-layer neuro-arrays.

He would have been far too embarrassed to hand his request sheet to the freckled redhead behind the desk, even wearing a disguise. Instead he sent a simuloid to go through the process for him. He watched the replay of the events by remote sensor relay presentation.

That receptionist, or clerk, or whatever she was, had been even younger than Cyndi. How could they have someone that young at the desk receiving and checking simuloid sexual engagement request forms? He made a note to address it another time.

Tyler had wrongly assumed that he'd be granted some level of privacy. No such luck. He was very grateful he'd sent the simuloid. The girl's eyes immediately jumped to and scanned the most private areas of the form. She soon wrinkled her nose, raised her eyebrows, then smiled back, eyes twinkling.

"Ooh, a rape fantasy. I always wanted to try one of those. Not that I'll ever be able to afford it. But you didn't select the model subtype. And we'll need at least fifteen photographs of the woman to accurately reproduce the likeness.

* * *

Cyndi's pussy felt as if it was being unexpectedly filled by the biggest, most powerful cock she'd ever had, and with a fury and a passion that suggested her employeer hadn't had sex for months. That was quite possible. His wife was in Paris now, and had been throughout Europe and South America for most of the past year. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember the two of them having been together in all that time.

She clenched her eyes shut as her boss's fantastic cock pushed into her aching pussy. He held himself there, deeply, totally embedded, letting her relish the feel of him. He squeezed one tit in each hand, tightly, painfully, half twisting each of them as she squealed for him, and begged him to stop, even as she thrust her own hips up against him and held him tightly against her own body.

That was what he wanted from her. It was all detailed in his engagement request.

"Sir, please," she whimpered, sobbing. "Please, stop. It hurts. Damn it, please..."

As soon as she pleaded with him to end it he renewed his thrusts, hammering her as hard as he could with his strong, loving, insatiable cock.

"Take my cock, Cyn, you little bitch. Take my cock and love it, you cock loving little whore."

She was enjoying this far more than she had dared to expect. The bastard's fantasy, and the reality of living it with him, was utterly scrumptious.

* * *

The simuloid stood, immobile and inoperative, in a small pantry near the back kitchens. It stood there, her boss's handiwork. He had designed it, or at least the hardest parts. He paid others to design and build the rest. He just did the hard parts that no one else could do.

He was a fucking genius, the world's premier robotics and systems expert. Before him, robots had been like glorified toasters.

McClintock Industries designed and built mechanoids, androids, and simuloids for every purpose, industry and situation where someone was willing to pay. Given the history of the world, it should not have come as a surprise that sex was one of the most common, and the most lucrative, applications for the necessarily elaborate but ultimately very effective simuloid technology.

This particular simuloid had given Cyndi quite a shock when she ran into herself in the hallway. She'd almost fainted. Almost instinctively, she used the safe phrase that her boss had taught her, a backdoor he'd built for himself, and shared with his assistant, that allowed him to instantly override any McClintock industries product.

At first she was in a panic. She almost went straight to her boss, but something made her hesitate. She did some quick research on her own, using all the passwords she knew, ones her boss didn't intend her to have, or even know that she'd stolen.

She was glad she'd been careful. She had thought it was going to turn out to be an assassin, sent to kill her boss, or industrial espionage, infiltrating the grounds by using his own assistant's likeness. But reality was far more exciting, for her. She traced the sim easily enough with its internal logs, and its serial numbers. It had come from her boss's own company, straight out of the Sexual Fantasies division.

It was all there in the corporation's IT systems. Her stolid, lonely, work obsessed bastard of a boss fantasized about raping his pretty young assistant. It was what he wanted, it was a service he'd paid his own company to provide, or rather the illusion of it, and that was just what was going to happen.

He just hadn't expected her to come back from her trip to the Pittsburgh facility a day early, cleverly finishing the assignment more quickly and efficiently than he thought she could. Once again, he'd underestimated her. So here she was, when and where she wasn't expected. It presented an opportunity.

Cyndi knew exactly how to take advantage of an opportunity.

* * *

He felt so good with his cock inside of this little woman's tight pussy. The soft, sweet curves and swells of her body beneath his, the sinful truth of his heinous act, everything was overwhelming. Cyndi had seemingly come twice already, making it harder and harder for him to delay the inevitable, his own powerful, impending climax.

"Oh, God, Mr. McClintock, your cock is so big," she screamed as he filled her with it again.

"You fucking whore," he barked back. "It's the biggest, sweetest fucking cock you'll ever have. Your boss loves your hot little body, Cyn, and he loves taking your sweet, tight, little twat with his big fucking cock."

His lips just ticked her ear as he growled the words straight into it, just before he forced his tongue in behind the words, like another invading, raping cock.

He moaned then straight into her ear, having pushed himself now beyond the point of no return. He felt her tense beneath him, as she sensed his own body tensing. She knew that he was ready to come.

Tyler grinned as his secretary grabbed her boss's taut ass, painfully, pleasingly digging her own nails into his naked flesh. She was holding him inside of her as tightly as she could as he came. She didn't need to. He was damned well going to make sure that he came inside of her.

He'd paid for the glorious experience, and he wanted it all.

* * *

Cyndi fought the urge. She knew what the purchased program had said. She knew how it was supposed to play out. She could do it. She should do it, to stay true to the program. She should let him come inside her.

But she shouldn't. He was her boss. She was fucking her sexy bastard of a boss. She was being raped by her twisted, sexy, bastard boss. She was going to let her boss come inside her.

"Fuck, Tyler, no, don't come inside me, Mr. McClintock, no, please..."

Her own words brought on another powerful, shuddering orgasm, one that drove almost all thought of pushing him off of her out of her mind.

She shouldn't let him do it, she should scramble out from under his grasp, but she wanted him to. Her pussy felt so wet and full and fabulously stretched around his cock. Her pussy grabbed at him of its own volition, quivering and pulsing with a wave of orgasms, even has her petite hands clawed frantically at his ass. It was rape, she pretended, even as she wantonly struggled to keep his cock inside of her.

She wondered how he'd be acting if he knew.

"Please, fuck, please, please."

He thrust his cock deeply into her in one long stroke. At the end of it, his body went rigid, and trembled. His mouth fell on hers. His lips covered hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. He convulsed with unrestrained, incomparable pleasure as his cock poured its seed into his secretary's body, while he kissed her like the little whore that he wanted her to be for him.

The thought of it made her mind up for her.

She tore her mouth away to moan as his cock jerked.

"Oh, God, Tyler, yes, yes, yes."

* * *

He leaned backward in his leather chair, while downing the last half of his smooth, fine brandy.

The experience was incomparable. The degree to which Cyndi had plainly enjoyed it magnified the memory a thousand fold. He wished that he had the nerve to tell her how much he knew.

Everyone knew that he was smart. He knew how robots worked. He knew how the business worked, along with all of its information systems. But he also knew how people worked.

And he knew how his secretary worked.

It was all about anticipation. It was all about knowing what would happen next, and exactly how people would react, and then exactly what they would do next.

It was all about planning and anticipation, and being able to get people to do what you want them to do, because it's already what they want to do, too.

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