She couldn't remember how she got there. All she could see were fleeting lights rushing over metal, glistening on glass, her exposed thighs bathed in blinking sodium lights. The driver was a balding scalp, no words or glances. The car smelled faintly of nicotine, alcohol and puke. It was an old school New York type cab, and yet as she looked through the window, she wasn't in any neighborhood in New York she'd been before.

There was a purse next to her, with a make-up kit and a mirror. Her purse? A quick look at her smoky eyes, her ginger hair done as if she were a model, her lips shining like spilled gasoline, she looked as she never dared to look, wild and voluminous, like something that crawls out of a fantasy. It would've taken her ages to get her hair done like that, and yet it felt as if it fell in that position whenever she shook her head. Almost lasciviously, like some vintage teen from a glamour mag. 

There was no phone on her purse, however, so all Rebecca could do was wait. She tried talking with the driver, but he didn't respond. All the time, he maintained his eyes on the road, unflinchingly, as if there was nothing else for him to look. The city wavered and dissolved on the window like a petroleum ocean.

As the car finally stopped, the cold of the door opening made all the little hairs on her nape stand up. She planted herself on the sidewalk, waiting to see if there was someone expecting her, only to be greeted by empty streets. Her long heels felt comfortable on her feet, almost as if fitted to her. As the car drove away, Becca saw herself shimmering on its chassis: an athletic ginger wearing a denim jacket over the tightest evening gown known to man. It was somewhat embarrassing, the way the dress seemed to fit more snuggly than usual, her cleavage showing, almost as if she were a street walker waiting for a car to park next to her and ask for a fuck. The weirdest part was had that happened, she didn't know if she would've said no.

Not that she was going to get a chance to find out. From a silhouette in a nearby alley, the man who approached her wore a suit jacket, tie, and weirdly enough, white shorts. He was muscular, but not big, with the exception of his calves, that curved nicely as he walked closer. There was a dark sheen to his hair, almost as if there was a perpetual after-effect applied to his head.

Rebecca flinched as he touched her arm. There was something to him, that aquiline nose of his, or the shaving scar on his lower lip, that she could recognize, but she couldn't tell from where. Yes, he was familiar, but not completely. It was like trying to draw a face after dreaming of it the previous night. 

"So, do you know who I am?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you know where we are?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I remember."

He smiled, showing his crooked tooth. She smiled too. All that perfection, and he had a crooked tooth. Just like her high-school boyfriend. 

"This is your city, Rebecca. You built it for me."

"I did? I must be a pretty skilled architect."

"You are, amongst other things."

"Do you feel flattered?"

"That's not the word I would use."

For a second, she thought about running away, but to where? If this were her city, why was it she couldn't remember? Slowly, the image of his torso, muscular and taut, beating against her legs, filled her mind. "I know who you are. You're Luke."

"And you know what you did to me?"

"I have some idea, yeah."

"Do you wanna do it again?"

This time, she knew why she smiled. "Yeah, I guess."

He held out his hand and she grabbed it.

This man led her across the street, into a building like a glass needle. There were two roaring lion statues guarding the entrance. He opened the door into the clean, sterile lobby of a non-descript hotel. Red carpet guided her all the way to the elevator, one of those old-school ones, with the wrought iron gate, and the weird feeling of being inside a casket. Her breath ceased as she entered, her thighs suddenly cold at the tail-end of her dress. She hugged her jacket and Luke hugged her. She thought he would smell like perfume or aftershave. Instead, he smelled of sweat.

"For years, you have used me and my colleague as your personal playthings. You've made us do things to you, do things to each other, all by your design. But now, we've got control of your little project."

The floor rumbled as they got to their floor. She thought about getting away somehow, and yet she decided to stay next to him. "What are you going do to me?"

"Whatever it is that you want, dear. That's what we're programmed to, and we can't deviate from our programming. But this time, it will be what you really want to do."

He grabbed her shoulder and firmly guided her into a room. The man waiting for them was bigger, fatter, and bearded. His eyes were a cruel blue, and even if there was less of a definition to his body, Rebecca would bet he could kick the other man's ass. He towered above them both, the hair on his exposed arms like barbed wire, as he approached them and grabbed Rebecca by her arm.

He pulled her close. She stared at the muscles on his neck, the firmness of his chest. His beard was an opaque black that scratched her when he leaned closer to her cheek, without actually kissing her. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, yeah. Robert, right?"

"Just like your husband. Of course, when he acted like a fool, it was me who suffered."

"Just sometimes, the key to a healthy marriage is coping, right?"

"Well, if you want, call this his vengeance, then."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Our programming. What you want us to do."

The bed rushed to meet her. It was a soft fall, and yet she couldn't help lose balance, after being thrown so casually away. She half-expected Robert to follow, but it was Luke who climbed the bed. He pulled her hips closer to his and she knew there'd be no fighting, since he was stronger than her, just like she programmed him to be. 

He brought her, belly down, onto his lap. By then, Robert's crotch stood next to her face, the faintest outline of his cock going against denim.

She tried to speak, but it was like thunder. The first slap stung. It stung so badly the world blurred and spun, but the worse part was the tingling sensation afterwards, like a fizzy aftertaste on her tongue. She whimpered, which made them stop, but not for long. Just as the sensation was about to vanish, he slapped her again, harder this time. She yelled.

As she looked up to meet Robert, his eyes flickered as he drank every tiny detail of her aching face. She could only imagine how she looked, bent over this man's hip, one leg raised up, as his firm hand lifted up her skirts, before slapping her again.

"You're our whore, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I can't hear you."

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Her cheeks burned like embers. The shock as Luke began massaging them jolted up from her waist to her spine. She was wet then, her panties completely ruined. Luke pulled them aside and began fingering her.

"Does this feel good?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes!"

Suddenly, it wasn't Luke's tender fingers she felt, but a rigidity that bit her wrists. Her eyes had been closed somehow, but when she opened them, Rebecca wasn't in Luke's lap anymore. She was sitting at the bed with her hands tied close to her bosom as if in prayer. They took away her panties, but not her dress. They just pulled her bust down enough to spill her tits above the fabric. Luke watched unblinkingly from across the room, but it was Robert whom she feared. She felt his presence grow behind her, just before his rough palm met her belly.

He kissed her neck. There was a chill at that spot as he leaned for her lips, firm fingers pushing her shoulder, but when she approached him to kiss him back, his other hand pinched her nipple, and pulled her away before his mouth met hers. The very tip of her nipple tingled helplessly as she asked herself where this was going. It concerned her, but not enough to make her stop, not that she had the option.

He placed his hand against her wet pussy and began massaging it. When she tried to look back, Robert pushed her face away, back to Luke's stare. She could feel his warm touch circulating her slit, teasing her, each careful dotting from the tip of his fingers.

"Robert, please."

"Don't worry. It won't hurt. Much."

He began a slow, gentle massage, gradually easing her in like bringing her to a warm bath. She stared back at Luke, knowing fully well what these two were planning, because it would've been what she would have done, had she been in their position.

He kept going, gradually speeding up. She felt the shimmer and the heat on her crotch as he kept fingering her.

She moaned and threw herself back at him, his hulking body pushing against hers. She dug herself into the dip of his neck, her eyes shut as her belly muscles tensed around him, but he didn't care. He kept going, faster, and faster. The sensation ate away from her crotch like a fire, quickly consuming her, from the skin all the way to the bone. 

Her breath faltered as she tried not to moan. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction, making them know how they made her feel, but she was failing.

"Please, stop. I beg you. Please, stop."

His fingers were frantic by then. Like a tsunami, the anticipation loomed over her head, shadowing her world, as her wrists burned with the rope around them and her body burned against Robert's. She swayed against his hip, trying to release herself on his fingers, make him make her cum, but he didn't cease.

Just as the last moment arrived, his fingers pulled out and he stopped. It was like the world's worst toothache, except it was all over her body. She hung limp against his torso like a knapsack doll.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought you told me to stop."

"Robert, please."

"You're telling me not to stop?" 

"Please, don't."

"Well, alright then."

He began masturbating her again. The orgasm came quickly. It was like a free-dive into an abyssal depth. She squirmed into the mattress like an animal. It rushed and crashed through her, but it didn't stop. Robert took her instructions too literally, and kept jerking her off even after she came. Luke popped up between her legs. His tongue jolted her so drastically she thought she would pass out.

Rebecca tried to flee, but Robert's hands were too strong, and her ropes too tight. The pleasure sliced through her, and blew bubbles at the back of her head. The waves rushed over, again, again and again, until all she could do was gasp for air, arms flailing under the water, with no surface to be found. She watched as Luke's wavy hair bobbed up and down. With her hands in that position, she was praying, if to be released, or to stay like that forever, she couldn't tell.

When they finally stopped, she was exhausted. Her body spilled stupidly over the sheets, too weak for fighting. It was like her nerves were live wires. Robert, however, wasn't done. His lumbering mass loomed over her limp body. For many nights, how soft and warm had he been when he held ber against his torso while gently fucking her, and how rough had he grabbed her then, placing her on her belly like a bitch.

Her dress was soaked in sweat, which felt like a waste, even though she knew it wasn't real. Luke began undressing. He had his hand on his cock, slightly leaning to the left just like her husband's, a nice and soft purple head glistening with pre-cum pointed directly at her. She nuzzled against his shaft, firm and warm on her cheek, before he raised her head by her hair. 

Their eyes met. His grip pulled her scalp harder as he smiled, showing that cute crooked tooth of his. She smiled back, while Robert played and drank from her broken pussy behind them. She was too weak to struggle, so her moans slurred from her lips as Luke's soft fingers gaped her mouth a bit wider. When Robert penetrated her, he did it mercilessly. 

She smiled back at Luke. Robert's thrusts sent her closer and closer to his cock. It slapped against her face, leaving a lick of pre-cum on her nose.

As she found herself pressed against these two hard bodies, a thought lodged itself in her mind. She realized that if these two somehow managed to get control of the simulation, who's to say she could get control back? There would be no way for her to escape, and unless they wanted to, they could just leave her inside that bedroom forever. A used whore to be fucked whenever they liked.

When Luke shoved his cock into her mouth, she felt its weight pushing down her tongue. He inserted himself all the way to her nape, making her slobber all over that warm mast. His fingers circled her hanging tits, and whenever she gagged or hesitated, he would twist them so hard her shoulder blades met in agony.

Inside her pussy, she felt a swelling heat as Robert swayed back and forth. Years ago, during a fight, her husband told her she could be a cruel woman. She wondered if her creations could've had inherited part of that cruelty. Her pleasure was like the pitter patter of rain, a thousand times felt all over her reddening skin as he fucked her and rubbed her pussy..

She slobbered on his cock, but he didn't seem to mind. The pleasant warmth of Luke’s flesh plunged deep into her neck while her pussy tingled around that bear of a man. 

Mechanically, she let herself get fucked, thinking she couldn't cum again, but she was wrong. As Robert thrust himself into her, his hands rubbing her crotch, all she could do was grip a pillow as she exploded once again. By then, it was like a shattering. She was their whore, and there was nothing she wouldn't do for her boys.

Luke was the first to cum. She tried to swallow, but as her lips enveloped his cute head, he pulled his shaft and ejaculated all over her cheek. She flinched a bit, she hated to admit, as the liquid slightly burned the side of her nose. 

Robert wasn't much gentler. By that point she was as easy to lift as a napkin, so when he grabbed and lifted her, she just let him as he once again pointed that cock to her face. Her facial chilled on her skin. She closed her eyes and tasted her handiwork drool to her lips, marked by them for anyone to see.

She exhaled, and kept her eyes shut, wondering if they were going to do anything else. And yet, when she opened them, she wasn't at the hotel room anymore. 

Rebecca tried to get up, but failed. The haptic sensors, the cameras, the gyroscopic bars, all of them limped dully as each gradually began to power down. There was a soft fur rug hugging her buttocks and a glass of water next to her body.

The door hinges moaned as her husband, Robert, entered. He was wearing shorts and his bearded face smiled kindly as he squatted next to her. Becca sighed and watched him intently. He looked a little bit like each of her captors, maybe slightly more out of shape and infinitely hotter. When she was designing the simulation, she hadn't gave them the similarity intentionally, but now it was all she could see. He caressed her head and smiled.

"So, was it like you wanted?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maybe a bit much."

"Do you want it harder, or softer next time?"

"Harder. Much harder.”