How the Emotionless Doll Was Swallowed by Pleasure
When she first met her creator, Yuria had done nothing more than observe him in silence.
She understood instinctively that he was the one who had brought her into being, but that was where the significance ended. Her present master was Bertin, the apprentice of her former mistress, and his orders constituted the entirety of her world. Submitting to physical recalibration had likewise been nothing more than compliance with Bertin’s wishes.
The subsequent reconfiguration of her frame had brought agony verging on torture, yet Yuria had weathered it impassively. To a biological organism, pain was synonymous with suffering, but to her it was merely a threat warning. So long as the operational hazard was acknowledged, an alert carried no intrinsic negative value if it inflicted no lasting functional harm.
“Doth it cause thee distress?”
“I am functional. Full physical diagnostics confirm the calibration concluded within acceptable tolerances. I register gratitude toward Lord Dolcetto for overhauling my chassis.”
“Hmph. Thy linguistic module hath been tuned well, yet still no breath of emotion stirreth within thee. Quite unlike the venom thou didst spit at that petty dungeon master.”
Dolcetto rested his chin on his hand, scrutinizing her condition. His unblinking stare was piercing enough to unsettle most, but Yuria registered nothing of the sort. The only variable that drew her attention was his lingering interest in her master.
“Thou didst claim he administered this substance and subjected thee to torment. To be certain—art thou convinced thine emotions surfaced solely through that experience?”
Dolcetto shook a glass vial containing the liquid he designated an aphrodisiac. Memories of the days she had been violated by Bertin flashed through her circuits, and Yuria knitted her brow, giving voice to the revulsion churning in her synthetic chest.
“It was hardly an agreeable experience. His mere touch caused my frame to slip beyond operational control, dancing entirely to his whims... Yet all permitted to me was to submit to his touch.”
“Indeed. Recognizing him as thy master, thou must execute his commands without reserve. Even should it lead directly to thy destruction, thou couldst not refuse... Yet what mattereth is that thou, who shouldst carry out every order devoid of feeling, dost harbor genuine revulsion.”
A tool meant to place obedience above all else had found its self-awareness eclipsed by emotion. To a scholar and creator like Dolcetto, nothing could be more intriguing, and he possessed every inclination to reproduce the phenomenon on the spot if necessary.
“Should I administer this drug and torment thee here and now, dost thou think thou wouldst bear hatred toward me?”
Whir, clatter.
From the artificial limbs sprouting along his frame, menacing implements slid forward. Saw blades and drills, wrenches and screwdrivers—weapons more than adequate to flay the living, human-like flesh she now possessed.
“No. I would not.”
Predictably, Yuria showed no trace of fear. The torment he proposed differed fundamentally from the erotic violation Bertin inflicted upon her.
“...Indeed. It differeth from the mere rending of flesh and splintering of bone.”
If he wished to learn the technique, he could easily do so. Bertin was a destitute novice; offer him sufficient compensation, and the lad would gladly impart whatever he knew without hesitation.
“Yet I am loath to seek instruction from an old friend’s disciple. For the sake of my pride as an authority on the craft, I must investigate the matter from scratch myself.”
“...Do you intend to conclude matters with this?”
“Aye. My task here is done, so I must return to my proper duties.”
His duties, naturally, were those of a faithful servant of the Demon King, wringing negative energy from hapless intruders. Every action and calculation he made would ultimately serve to cultivate despair and agony, yet such had not always been his sole purpose.
“Before I depart, let me ask thee one more question.”
The query that followed was rooted in a dream he had pursued with fiery passion in days long gone, even if that fire had since cooled to ash.
“Yuria. Dost thou consider thyself a tool?”
“...Yes. I am merely a tool constructed to serve whoever holds my contract.”
“Indeed. I designed thee that way from the ground up. Yet the reason I endowed thee with a consciousness distinct from other golems was that in my youth, I was a passionate man who pursued ideals rather than mere utility.”
Mass-produced automatons that obeyed without thought could be stamped out by the dozen in any factory. But forging an individual endowed with warm flesh and independent cognition was an endeavor bordering on the creation of true life—a direct challenge to the domain of the gods. That had been the dream of every idealistic scholar, and Yuria was the lingering monument to the ambition of his youth.
“And shouldst thou remain at his side, thy personality will only grow sharper. To reclaim in my twilight what was abandoned so long ago... Heh heh. I wonder what reaction I shall have when that moment finally arriveth.”
“...Lord Dolcetto.”
“By all means, experience much and learn much at his side. If thou dost, perhaps the ghost of my long-crumbled youth may yet find peace.”
To transcend her nature as a tool and awaken as an independent being... There was no obligation to honor his sentiment. Her master’s orders were absolute, and her creator had long since surrendered all administrative authority over her.
“I shall... take note of your words.”
Yet if her master truly wished for her to become an entity endowed with free will, could she, who regarded herself as nothing more than an instrument, accept those surging emotions of her own accord?
...Yes, such idle musings had flickered through her processors before she stepped onto this bed.
Creak, creak.
Under the violent rhythm battering her against the mattress, her rational thought was steadily disintegrating. The mind that should have been running precise calculations turned completely white, and her resolve to reject the situation dissolved with every ragged, panting breath.
“Haa, ah...♥ Ahh, aahh~♥”
“Whew, Yuria. How is it? Good? Now that your nerves are all tuned up, you must be feeling a hell of a lot more.”
“It... it does not... feel good. S-Something like this... Ahhhn~♥”
She refused to acknowledge it. With every plunge of his shaft, her nerves flared beyond her control, sending wild tremors through her chest and stoking an uncontrollable heat. It all felt so alien that resentment stubbornly clung to a corner of her heart.
Was it not utterly irrational? That she, who could endure physical mutilation without registering distress, harbored such intense revulsion toward her master’s intimate touch?
“Doesn’t feel good? You really are a terrible liar.”
Her transparent denial did nothing to convince him. Shifting the angle of his hips, Bertin began grinding against her sensitive walls with shallow, upward thrusts rather than deep plunges, rubbing directly against her swollen sweet spot. Yuria’s body bucked violently on the bed.
“Ah, ooh~♥”
“Oho, hitting this spot makes you clamp down like crazy. See? You’re loving it, Yuria~”
“I am... not loving it. Th-This sort of thing...♥”
Slap, slap, slap, slap!
“Ah, oh, ooh, ohh~♥ N-No! Thrusting there is dangerous... O-Ohh~♥”
Through every recalibration, her consciousness and sensations had grown infinitely sharper, leaving her body to be mercilessly battered by the fleshly weapon driving into her core. She wanted to escape. She wanted nothing more than to break free from this frightening, overwhelming sensation.
“Let’s switch things up. Yuria, turn around and face me.”
Yet the absolute command shackling her mind compelled her compliance. Forced onto her back to face him, the mere sight of his flushed face before her sent heat rushing through her synthetic veins, forcing her eyelids shut.
“N-No. Do not look at me...♥”
She did not want him to see. A tool had no business looking so naked and depraved, and she desperately wished to hide her degradation from the very man inflicting it upon her.
“Heh, why turn away all of a sudden? I can’t see that pretty face of yours.”
Showing no mercy, he reached out and gently cradled her cheek, stroking her skin before turning her head back toward him to press a soft kiss against her cheek.
“Ah, ahh...♥”
Even that tender contact sent hypersensitive shudders through her frame, wringing a helpless gasp from her throat. Aroused by her reaction, Bertin captured her lips with his own. He traced their contour softly before sliding his tongue past her parted teeth, flooding her mouth with slick, intoxicating saliva.
“Mmph, hngh... Slrrp...♥”
Their tongues tangled together. An organ crafted purely for articulate speech was being repurposed to sate his lust, violated without an ounce of restraint. This was pure humiliation. Her sensitized frame responded to his every movement with agonizing clarity, and the deeper she took him, the more violently the turmoil inside her flared.
He was not tearing her flesh or spilling her blood, yet his touch stirred her cold heart more thoroughly than any torture ever could.
Slap, slap!
All the while, his hips hammered relentlessly into her core, plunging deep into the wet heat of her passages. Her overwrought body thrash wildly under the sustained onslaught.
“Haa, ah, aahh~♥”
“Hah~ You’re clamping down even harder. Are you close?”
“I-I do not want to cum... P-Please, stop...♥”
“Can’t do that. Ending things halfway would only leave you frustrated. Come on, I’m getting close too, so hang in there.”
Slap, slap!
The pace grew more frantic, stealing the breath from her chest. As her frayed rationality eroded toward nothing, even the shame she harbored toward him began to blur into a haze.
Why... why am I...?
Where resistance had crumbled, something else blossomed in its place. A blazing, unquenchable heat flared from a synthetic body sculpted in the likeness of a woman—a sensation that could only be called ecstasy.
Why... was I even fighting this...?
The question coiled through her thoughts like a serpent, swallowing the last fragments of her restraint. It took only a heartbeat for her lingering doubts to give way to frantic, desperate craving.
“Yu-Yuria?”
“Haa, ah, aahh~♥”
Yuria threw her arms around her master, panting and sobbing out lewd whimpers. Clumsily rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, she chased the suspended climax, driving it toward a dizzying peak.
“Quickly... finish quickly, please...♥”
“I feel strange... If this continues, I will become strange... I will no longer be me...♥”
“...Haha, look who got eager all of a sudden.”
“Haah, aahhn~♥ Ejaculate... please ejaculate inside me, quickly~♥”
Slap, slap!
He threw his full weight into violent, piston-like thrusts. Driven past the brink by her sudden eagerness, Bertin pulled Yuria tight against his chest, burying his shaft to the root with a final, shuddering drive.
“Ngh, Yuria! I’m coming inside!”
With a wet, rhythmic pulse, a flood of hot seed surged through the channel deep into her womb. Feeling the scalding liquid fill her innermost depths, Yuria reached her climax at the exact same moment, trembling lips parting as she spilled out the lingering tremors of ecstasy.
“Ah, ooh, ooh...♥”
Every synthetic muscle shuddered in the afterglow before absolute exhaustion overtook her, leaving her limp against the sheets. As she stared blankly at the ceiling with hollow, dilated eyes, Bertin leaned over her, issuing his next instruction.
“No resting yet. Cleaning up the mess is a maid’s duty, isn’t it?”
Drip, trickle.
A viscous mixture of semen and defloration blood dripped down onto her cheek. Gasping for breath, Yuria blinked at him for a moment before realizing what was expected of her. She parted her lips and leaned toward his softening member.
Taking him into her mouth, she began to suck.
She worked to erase every physical trace of the coupling they had shared, even as an indelible mark was being carved deep into her very soul.
“Mmph, slrrp... slurp...♥”
“Your blowjobs have gotten a lot better since the first time. Are you finally starting to love cock, Yuria?”
“Mmph... I do not... love it... Chuu~♥”
“...Heh heh.”
Bertin watched her service his cock with a thoroughly satisfied smile. He could clearly see the nascent spark of humanity taking root within her cold shell.
“I knew it. You really are a woman worth breaking in.”
Even as her mouth spit curses and denials, her flesh craved pleasure. Listening to her sharp-tongued abuse while coaxing out her instincts as a woman—was that not the finest method imaginable to guide her toward becoming a truly living, feeling person?