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Enraptured by a Rapist

Part 2

For Technophile34

By Draconicon

She was utterly soaked. If it wasn't for the fact that her body's fluid production centers were working overtime, Fiona was pretty sure that she'd be rather cold, as well. As it was, the cooling, thickening juices in her panties were still at least body heat as the mayor reached down between her legs.

Don't drip...don't drip...

Her fluids were running along her thighs, dripping down her legs towards her ankles, but it would be a hundred times worse if she felt her juices running out of her panties, falling down through the fabric onto her boss's hand.

Don't drip. Don't drip.

The Floatzel doll clenched herself all the tighter, trying not to think about the recording that she'd just watched, trying not to think about the way that the doll had been dismembered and raped by a strap-on. The thought was still burning through her, pulling at the old pieces of programming in her that wanted to form that slut personality. It wanted to make her into something like that, the self-preservation routines in her processor thinking that it would only be a good idea.

But not now. Not now, not now, not now!

Drip.

Fiona's cheeks could not have burned hotter as she realized that more than a droplet had gotten through her clothes. A whimper left her lips as she stared forward, hearing the soft drip-drop on the back of her employer's hand.

"Pity."

It was just one word, and she could hear all the disdain and dislike that the mayor had for her dripping through it. Her cheeks burned hotter still, and she realized that she could blush hotter than she was already doing.

"And I thought that you might be a bit more of a reserved woman. Not even watching the recording now, and you're still thinking about it."

"Mmmph..."

She shivered as she continued to hold her skirt up, knowing that her juices were still dripping. She looked down, seeing the long line of juicy slime running from her sex, stretching down as more of the liquid gathered at the very tip, right over the Gardevoir's hand.

"You are no better than any of the rest of the city."

"Please..."

"You stare at a rape, and rather than feeling anything regarding sympathy or how to fix it, all you can do is ooze all over yourself. You're making a mess of my office, a mess of your clothes. It's a disgrace."

"Please, Diane."

"That's Mayor Diane to you. All fours."

The Floatzel did as she was told, her hips shifting and her ass cheeks tensing as she hit the floor, putting her arms out in front of her and keeping her legs together. The panties squished, sending more of her juices down her legs, leaving a small puddle under her knees.

"Lick it up."

"Mmmph...yes, Mistress..."

She felt shame, yes, but there was so much more arousal beneath that, so much need that she had never expected to feel when she was serving someone else. The Floatzel lowered her head to the ground, nosing along the metal tiles to the biggest puddles.

It wasn't really tiles, of course, but rather cut metal that had been forced together in the best way that the dolls involved had been able to manage. It wasn't tile, but it was segmented, usually with dips and divots that ended in rather sharp points. She avoided those, but the old metal taste continued to cover her tongue.

The puddles of fem-cum weren't the tastiest, either, but she had been given orders, and she would fulfill them.

Lick, lick, lick. The Floatzel had never imagined that she would allow herself to fall this far, but what else was she to do? She was doomed to this. Particularly now that her boss knew what she was like.

The taste was thin and watery, a strange contrast to the sheer muskiness of it when it came free. Not like a human scent, according to her database, but rather a sort of artificial sexiness, something that was meant to imitate it without getting too over the top about it. She didn't understand it, save for the fact that she and other dolls were meant to be some sort of companions to others.

Mmmph...mmmph...

She groaned every time that she had to take a lick, her cheeks burning as she cleaned up the puddle, feeling it getting smaller beneath her tongue. She didn't dare look; if she did, she might lose what little control she had over her libido and cum again.

As she cleared away one puddle, she slowly backed up to get at the next one, dragging her tongue across the metal until she found it. It ran in strings from the floor to her tongue as she gave it the first lick, making her feel even more low-down, even more perverted, even more base than she was.

The mayor shook her head.

"And this is exactly what's wrong with Haven," the Gardevoir said.

"Mmm?"

"None of you have any way to hold back...none of you know what the meaning of restraint is, if it isn't about bondage."

"Nnngh..."

She didn't have restraint, that much was true, but how was one supposed to restrain themselves when they were confronted by something like this? How were they supposed to live through it when the only choice was to become a slut so that it couldn't hurt you?

The Gardevoir pulled her legs up, resting her heels on the Floatzel's back as she continued.

"I swear, I'm the only one that's not looking at this rapist like some sort of sex god. I'm the only one that's not getting off on thinking about him raping me."

"Mmph...you...you probably are," Fiona managed to mutter.

"I know I am. Shut up."

Fiona did as she was told, continuing to lick up her mess. At least it wasn't getting worse. At least she only had the puddle between her legs to worry about now, rather than the three or four of them that had been spread across the room.

"Not one of you are worth the parts you're made of. Not when it comes to anything practical, at last," the mayor muttered, putting her heels a bit more firmly on the doll's back. Her cheeks burned all the hotter as she felt those heels digging into her spine, rubbing along one of the main transfer connections between her processor and her body.

Not that it would have made a bit of difference if she tried to shift out of the way. If Diane thought that her use was up, then there would have been no stopping the other woman.

Thankfully, she seemed more interested in grinding her stress away rather than stomping it out, so it was more like a rough, slightly painful massage on the Floatzel's back than anything else. She backed up a bit further, trying to get to the last of the puddles between her legs. She half-hoped that it would shift the heels further from her spine, but all it did was plant them at the base of her neck, right behind her head.

"And you're worse than most. At least they're honest in their depravity. All you do is stare, and stare, and stare, and drip."

"Mmmph..."

"Hell, I caught you wet-pantied and all you can do is keep whimpering about it. You don't even try and defend yourself, you don't admit it. You just whimper."

"Sorry, ma'am."

She shivered. It was not what she wanted to be, but she wasn't able to be what she wanted to be. Fiona wanted to be better than the other dolls, wanted to let herself be proper and even a little prim. But every time she even heard about something like this, all she could think about was...was...

She groaned, another little quiver going through her ass cheeks, a bit more of her juices dripping down her thighs. She clenched them together, trying to keep it from getting worse, but all she managed to do was make her panties squelch from how soaked they were.

"You are just...worthless."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"You could be sold for parts and I still wouldn't get what I put into you back."

"I'm really sorry, ma'am."

"I don't care if you're sorry. It doesn't make you any better than what you are. Which is worthless."

The Gardevoir just about kicked the back of her head, and Fiona wondered if she'd been left with a dent back there. The idea sent a shiver down her spine, particularly as her mental fantasies were starting to take a turn.

No, no, I don't want to start thinking about her that way. I can barely keep it together around anyone else, thinking about them as the maybe-rapist. I can't take it if I start thinking about her that way.

But she already was. Her eyes were closed tight as the images began to pour through her skull, her mind filled with thoughts of Diane as the rapist, as the Gardevoir running around and punishing people for not getting the construction works done fast enough for the settlement to expand.

Her breath came faster, metaphorically speaking, and she shivered as her pussy and ass clenched at the same time. The Floatzel almost wanted to feel someone slamming something into her, almost wanted to feel the mayor take off her heels and ram one of them inside of her. The thought alone was enough to push her right to the edge of climax again.

No more, please, no more.

The humiliation of cumming hands-free in front of her boss again, after she'd done it not once, but twice, was more than she'd be able to bear. She needed to hold onto some sense of dignity, some little piece of it, or she would never able to look herself in the face again.

The juices running down her thighs were making another puddle as she lowered her head to the ground, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down. It wasn't really working, particularly as she kept smelling the juices that had come onto the floor already, her own arousal filling her senses.

I'm a slut, I'm a slut, I'm a worthless little slut, was what her processor was feeding her, the words coming in an almost sing-songy way. The idea that she was nothing but that slut, that she could be losing herself to a new personality already, left her cold.

Have to hold on. Have to stay me...just for a bit longer...just until I leave...

And maybe if she could hold out until she left the building, she might be able to keep it from happening at all. All she needed to do was hold it together, and then...and then...

Well, she didn't know, but it had to be better than what she was going through now.

"Well...I suppose I can't blame all of you."

"Hmmm?"

"I suppose I can't blame you for giving into those instincts. Even I'm not completely immune to them."

For a second, she thought that maybe, somehow, Diane had found some bit of compassion to herself. She thought that maybe her employer had been able to make herself feel a bit of sympathy, a bit of kindness.

SMACK!

And then she felt her ass get smacked, her head dropping down to the floor again. She gasped at the heat that spread through the silicone on impact, feeling it dent, and then slowly felt it press back out against her panties.

SMACK! SMACK!

Two more spanks, the second one drawing a squeak from her before she could stifle herself. She was being treated like...like a dirty little girl...like...like a slut...

You are a slut. Worthless slut. Nothing but a slut.

The Floatzel tried to squelch those thoughts, knowing that they were nothing but lies, but the feeling was still there. The need was burning hotter by the second, and her pussy was begging for something inside of it. She squeezed down on nothing, hiking her hips up by instinct alone.

"Look at you. Giving in already. No respect for yourself."

"Sluts don't deserve respect."

"No, they don't, you stupid doll."

Not even pretending anymore. She was a doll. They were all dolls, but most of the time, they acted as if they weren't. They acted like people. Artificial people, yes, those with parts that could be exchanged and interwoven, but people as much as they could.

Reminding someone that they were just a doll was one step removed from calling them a Barbie, of reminding them that they might have nothing between their legs.

The shivers that were running down her spine didn't get better as the mayor rubbed her ass, squeezing one cheek before pulling it apart. Fiona felt her panties getting sucked between her ass cheeks, the large gloves so slick now with her juices that they might as well have been covered in oil. The silicone inside almost seemed to puff out, like someone had filled it with some sort of injection.

"Ah!"

She gasped as she felt the mayor's finger dragging up from the front of her panties to the back, gathering her juices as they went. One finger pressed right against her asshole, dragging along it, teasing it, before -

"NNNGH!"

Fiona bit back a gasp as her asshole was penetrated, that one finger pushing in deep and carrying her panties inside of her with it. There was nothing inside, of course, nothing but the sensors to tell her that she was being penetrated, telling her how far she was being penetrated, by what, to what degree of lubrication. All of that information went rushing through her processor, figured out immediately and then fed back to her as pleasure and pain together.

"Nnngh...m-mistress..."

"From ma'am to mistress. Aren't you the hopeless case?"

In and out, in and out that slender finger went, always pushing in a bit more than she really wanted it to, but always giving her more pleasure than she was ready to take. The Floatzel doll gasped, her hips rising higher, her body giving into the slut routines that knew how best to be fucked.

Adjusting the angles, shifting her body for ideal penetration, certain parts of her hardening, certain parts softening, stiffening, going limp.

All for the best possible use of her body. All for the best experience of the one on top of her.

It was all self-defense, something that all dolls would do in a situation like this. Their body was made to protect itself and preserve its integrity from an attacker by giving it what it wanted. That was true for almost all dolls, and to overcome that routine required more stamina and willpower than Fiona had.

What was different was the fact that Fiona could feel herself losing control of something else.

A whimper escaped her mouth as a different fluid escaped her down below. She shivered as her juices came sliding out of her, not in a squirt but in a slow, steady stream that ran from her pussy down her legs, coming to a thick puddle down at the base of her thighs. Her knees were soon soaked.

"Did you just..."

The mayor pulled her hand back, standing up and backing up a few steps.

"Oh god, you wet yourself."

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She wiggled her hips without even thinking about it, knowing that it wouldn't help her but unable to stop herself. Offering her body was the only thing that she could think to do in order to keep from getting in further trouble.

Wetting oneself was different for dolls than it was for their human counterparts. A doll that wet itself was basically so far gone that it couldn't control its own processes anymore. Too much RAM was taken up doing something else, on focusing on something more important, that regulating the juices that flowed from the body was no longer possible. The body just voided itself at that point, spilling all arousal juices and excess fluids in the area in one long stream that was referred to as 'wetting.'

And she had just done that. She had just humiliated herself utterly and completely in front of her boss. She lowered her head to the floor, grinding her cheek against the puddles that she had already made.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she kept whispering.

Despite her best efforts to be better, her hips collapsed as well, taking her entire body down into the puddles that she'd made. Soon, she was soaked along her front, her clothes sopping up the juices that she'd spilled all over the place, her pleasure soaking into her plastic, too. Soon, she was marked from breasts to pussy with the evidence of her own lack of control.

I've lost it...completely...lost it...

She couldn't even bring herself to drag herself upright. All she could do was lay there in her own juices, feeling it getting slick and sticky by turns as the seconds dragged on. Her cheeks burned, thinking about how she had given in to her own needs rather than trying to be a good girl.

What must the mayor think of her?

Fiona shuddered, her chassis rattling as she realized just how much of a fool she'd made of herself. Her body refused to obey her, refused to get up. It wanted to stay down, wanted to show off how much of a slut that she could be, how much of a whore that she had become. Or at least, how much of one a part of her wanted to become.

No, no, get up. Get up!

Her body refused, keeping her in the puddles, smearing her in more of her own juices. The shame was burning through her, and getting ground right into her, as well.

The mayor sighed.

"Get up."

She gasped in relief, getting to her feet as fast as she could. Her instincts wanted her to go back to all fours, at least, if not down to being flat on the ground and in her puddles, but she had to obey. She had to.

The Gardevoir shook her head, looking at her with the most distaste in the world. Fiona felt like she was worse than the scrapyard whores, than the processors attached to pussies that you could sometimes find on the street corners, trying to build up their bodies again with little payments here and there.

She felt worse than that, and she knew that she deserved to.

"Get out of my office."

"But...but mistress..."

"Get out."

Fiona knew that there was no choice in the matter. She had screwed up too badly, shown herself to be too weak to be able to be a proper assistant for the mayor. The Floatzel shivered as she walked around her desk, turning off her computer in the process and heading for the door. The Gardevoir watched her go for the whole time, and only said one thing as she stepped through the doorway.

"Tell the staff to start handing out applications. After what I've seen, it's clear that I need a new secretary. One that can at least control herself to some extent."

"Yes, mistress..."

"And stop calling me that!"

The doors slammed behind her, and Fiona walked through the mayor's house with as much dignity as she could summon.

There wasn't much to be had.

The doors shut behind her as she left her former job behind, looking down at the settlement of Haven. The scrounged-together buildings were mostly bits of sheet metal that had been cut through by ingenious dolls, fitted together and then welded until they ran out of fuel. Some of the different houses were held together by strung-together bits of wire, wrapping around the pieces of metal again and again to keep them from falling over.

She knew that there were empty ones down there, places where she could go and claim a house for the night, but she didn't want to do that just yet. She...

She needed something else.

Fiona shivered as she left the house behind her, wanting nothing more than to turn around and beg for her job back. She knew that the mistress wouldn't give it back to her, not while she was so damaged, but she wanted to. She wished for her job so badly that it hurt.

But for now...

For now, she needed to do something else.

The Floatzel walked down the street, shivering as she heard the calls of the parts peddlers and the clothing scroungers, those that had the dying and those that profited from them. She knew better than to give in; they would want her money, and then they would want her.

Her pussy juiced that much more, and she knew that her panties were completely worthless. The Floatzel walked between the next two buildings, squatting down and pulling her panties off. She pulled them out from beneath her, looking at the purple pair of underwear and seeing what she'd done to them.

They were soaked beyond any sort of repair. There was no going back for them, just like there was no going back for her. She sighed, tossing them over her shoulder and listening to them land with a wet 'thud' somewhere behind her.

When she left the alley, she could feel the squelching going on between her ass cheeks, and she blushed as she realized just how wet she had been, and how wet she still was. The fact that she was no longer covering herself somehow made her feel all the needier, as if her body had been supercharged with arousal.

She shivered as she walked down the streets again, this time all too conscious of the way that her silicone ass and her plastic pussy were rubbing against themselves, the way that her juices had left them so lubricated that they felt so soft, so squishy, so...so sensitive. The way that her ass cheeks in particular moved, how they slid against each other, seemed to tease her little pucker all the more.

Mmmph...

The Floatzel swore that she should have been out of fluid, but her body seemed more than intent on producing more, filling her up again as she walked through Haven. Her body was aching with the need to be fucked, pushing for her to find some girl to shove her against the wall and finger her. She felt the need to do it herself, to lean against a wall, flip her skirt up, and start fingering herself until someone stopped her in order to do it themselves.

God, I'm a slut. I'm a slut. I'm a slut.

Fiona slapped the side of her head to stop the routine that was trying to wedge itself into her thoughts. No, she was not a slut. She was a secretary. A secretary that had been fired for starting to act slutty. She needed to be better. Needed to be so much better.

The Floatzel walked past the houses towards the part of Haven that sufficed as the night life part of the settlement. She could make out a few places that had neon tubes scavenged from the factory, could see where people had been trying to make something of a thing for themselves, but she kept walking. There was something else further on, she was sure, and she needed to find it.

Her legs were moving more or less automatically, carrying her with an intent that she didn't feel in her brain. She didn't know what would be happening to her in the future, but she knew that she needed to listen. The buried routines in her brain often knew better what to do than she did.

So she walked.

And walked.

And walked.

She left behind the simple clubs, and she left behind the bigger ones. She walked by windows where dolls were moaning, and she left behind the ones that were filled with grunts and groans of electro-zaps as they were recharged.

She didn't even know where she was going, but she knew that when she got there, she'd know she'd arrived.

Fiona closed her eyes, almost asleep as she followed her body, and only opened them when she came to a stop.

The sheet metal building in front of her was different from the others. It wasn't held together with wire or with the welding. Instead, it seemed to be something that had been thrown up at the spur of the moment, the metal sheets leaning on each other rather than being attached. She was half-sure that it would come down with a good gust, but so far, the weather had been good.

Nobody stood outside it. Nobody seemed to be interested in this place. She walked towards the front door, laying her hand on it.

It didn't need a push to open. It just did.

She stepped through, turning her head this way and that. The place was dark, but there were enough cracks between the metal plates for her to be able to see where she was going. A rough bar had been set up on the far side of the room, and many circular tables were laid out for people to sit at, to drink.

The bar itself was crude, little more than a chunk of wood that looked like it had come from the water. The drinks - electro-charged for the dolls to sustain themselves with - were in a glass test tub, bubbling away over an ever-burning flame. One of the other things from the factory, she supposed.

She looked at it, wondering why she was here, and then paused.

There was a smell in the air, something that was strong enough to overcome her own sense of arousal and need. She paused, tilting her head back to try and get more of it.

It was strong. Very, very strong. And it was coming from the far side of the bar.

I'm not a slut. I'm not a slut.

Fiona kept telling herself that despite the need that was burning through her body. She wanted to straddle one of these tables, finger herself and leave her own little marking for the rapist. She wanted to give the stranger something to follow, something that would eventually lead the rapist to her.

She wanted to fuck herself, wanted to use a chair leg, a table, even her own hand to get herself off, to spray her marking on this place. She wanted the rapist to find her.

Why?

Had she...had she wanted that...so bad...?

She did...

But...

It was so hard to think. She was being pulled around, dragged about, yanked up and down by the thoughts in her head and the need between her legs. If she could just stop thinking about the rapist for two seconds, she would be able to think clearly. She would be able to quash the subroutine that was trying to turn itself into a personality.

She would be able to be herself again, rather than this walking whore and a dripping slit trying to get someone's attention that would kill her.

Dying that way would be fun...

Stimulation death was something that was entirely possible for her and other dolls. They were capable of taking in a great deal of information, a great deal of stimulation, but even they had limits. Even they could be overwhelmed.

If RAM was pushed too far, then they started to malfunction. Wetting was the first sign of it. Then it was stuttering speech. Then it was visual impairment. And then...

Well, blue screens were not a good thing for a doll to imagine.

She walked around the corner of the bar, and there...there it was.

The mutilated limbs of the Pikachu doll. The stains of another doll's dying sprays of pleasure and lust. Little bits and bobs, parts that hadn't been collected by the officers on the scene.

This was it. This was the place that the crime had been committed. This was where that doll had been killed.

Fiona's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the debris before her. There was no denying what her body had brought her to, what her instincts were demanding.

Get fucked.

She would die.

Get fucked.

There'd be no one who'd care.

Get. Fucked.

The rapist would likely be back for her trophies. The officers of Haven wouldn't be here to stop them; they had other concerns, and no matter what Diane told them, they wouldn't come out here to stop one doll from doing one thing. The only officer that would come down would be one that wanted to be raped.

The way that she apparently did.

Fiona shivered from head to toe, walking to the dead pieces, picking them up. She had handled dead parts before, things taken from dolls that had been damaged in accidents, explosions, even through acid burns. But this...

Having seen what the rapist had done to the Pikachu...that made a difference. That made a huge difference.

The Floatzel was panting, her eyes wide, her body shaking from head to toe. She had to make a decision. Stay, or go. Stay, or go.

If she left, she would live. The rapist wouldn't know that she'd been there. There'd be no way that she could be tracked down, no way that she would be any different from any other doll that had come here to see the scene of the crime. Her life would continue, and she'd be able to take the rest of the night to calm herself down.

If she stayed, there was no doubt that the rapid would return, and then would take whatever their problems were out on her. Fiona would be left wrecked, likely dead from either dismantling or stimulation death. If she lived, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life, either begging for aid and selling bits and pieces of her body, or living off of charity from those that would take her in.

Fiona looked down at her hand, having to pull it out from between her legs to do so. Her fingers were clicking worse and worse, soaked as they were from shoving them inside of her. She'd barely noticed that she had done it, her mind so focused on other things that the stimulation of her hand - even the orgasms that had come from shamefully fingering herself to the sight before her - hadn't even registered.

...It's not even a decision, is it?

Sighing, the Floatzel sat herself down, pulling her hands behind her back and sitting against them, leaning on them so that they couldn't finger her pussy. She...

She wanted to be all...ready...when the rapist came.

The End