The Adventures of Robohooker

by Sally Hollister

  “Does age make a difference to performance?” I asked both experienced whores.

  This time it was Mandy who deferred to her senior. “Depends on the individual,” Fifi explained, “We have some guys can’t handle much more than a cuddle. But some others are as horny as if they were 18 years old.”

  “And your Sam, which category does he fall into?”

  “Don’t say nothing, Mandy,” Fifi snapped, “I’d like to know just how much pre-programming those smart boys have implanted in her metal skull. We’ll watch her together, Andi, and I want your comments and opinions. Does that suit you?”

  Again, I was being asked for a decision and I nodded hesitantly, though unsure of what was expected of me.

  Mandy departed for her assignation and Fifi led me through to the Voyeur Viewing Room, which consisted of six chairs grouped round a large viewing screen. We took our seats and Fifi flicked switches which made the screen light up. On it appeared the Voyeur Suite, an elaborately decorated bedroom at the centre of which was a large, circular bed.

  “Game on!” Fifi announced as we saw Mandy enter the room with her client.

  Sam was a small, thin, grey-haired man, perhaps in his late sixties, well dressed in a business suit and a hand clamped to the right cheek of Mandy’s ample bottom.

  “What do you think,” Fifi asked, “Is he here for a cuddle or a fuck?”

  “From his appearance it looks unlikely that he is capable of giving Mandy a good fuck,” I replied.

  But Fifi’s sly smile made me immediately doubt my judgement. “Have you had sexual relations with Sam in the past?” I asked.

  Fifi nodded shyly and I added, “In which case I think he is capable of an awesome fuck.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you smiled, which implied that I was mistaken in my judgement about his appearance being an indication of his sexual prowess.”

  “I could have been bullshitting you.”

  “No, your reaction was too immediate.”

  Fifi smiled again, but this time in acceptance. “Well done, Andi. I think you’ve learned the lesson. You can just sit and enjoy now.”

  I did not enjoy, as I was not programmed to appreciate visual representations of human sexuality, only physical stimulation, However, as an example of how the business of selling sex should be conducted, it was instructional.

  As they stood together Mandy undressed Sam and revealed that he had a large cock which hung a good way down his skinny thigh. She stroked it gently with her hand, causing it to stiffen and rise slightly, while she ushered him to sit on the bed. Then she sank to her knees and attended to him orally, sucking on his cock till it filled with blood and stood proud and erect, belying his scrawny torso.

  “Ooh, you big beauty!” Mandy hissed, releasing him from her mouth and standing up so she could undress herself.

  “That is not exaggerating,” I commented, “as I was told is Mandy’s stock in trade, for the penis is, indeed, impressive.”

  “That it is,” Fifi agreed.

  Mandy bent over and allowed her aged paramour to suck on one of her bulging breasts as she removed her skirt, below which she was wearing stockings a suspender belt and brief panties of a vivid red hue.

  “She is not of the Fluffy Furball persuasion,” I mentioned, noticing her bare pudenda.

  “No, she’s mad for getting it waxed on a regular basis. I do think she might have a masochistic streak.”

  “Undoubtedly, especially if she expects to accommodate Sam’s enormous cock without discomfort.”

  “He is a big boy, isn’t he. But Mandy’s a trooper, she can take it.”

  “I have no doubt, she seems like an experienced hooker. It will be educational to watch her being fucked by a well endowed client.”

  “You can be educated, I want to be entertained,” Fifi said, pulling her brief skirt up and revealing her underwear. She began rubbing herself between the legs as we watched Mandy take her place on the bed and spread her thighs. Her aged lover sprang up and took his place between them, before ramming himself into her without any further ceremony.

  “Oh fuck!” she announced loudly, though I was unsure if this was an instruction or an announcement of appreciation.

  In any case it served to encourage her elderly lover to start banging away at her like a man possessed.

  “Do you have medical professionals on the premises?” I asked Fifi, “For I fear this senior citizen may suffer from a cardiac arrest if he continues in this fashion.”

  “Don’t you worry about old Sam,” my tutor replied, “he can bang like a shit house door in a gale without breaking sweat.”

  “Jesus God, fuck me with that big tool, Sam,” Mandy pleaded, throwing her legs up on his thin shoulders.

  I carefully recorded all her utterances and logged them in my database in case they should be of use to me in the future.

  Her first utterance was followed by, “Dear God, you’re huge,” and “You’re splitting me in two,” neither of which conflicted with the visual information I had received. It was a most impressive and instructive depiction of human coitus and I was greatly impressed, especially when Sam joined the conversation with lines such as, “Take it, you fat bitch!” and “Had enough yet, you horny whore?”

  “Why does he feel the need to be insulting, when she is so complimentary?” I asked.

  Because he’s a man and they’re all dick-heads,” Fifi replied, though her fingers had now delved beneath her underwear and she was writhing around with unrestrained passion. Even though I was not programmed to be aroused by visual depictions of sexuality I found that Fifi’s proximity to me and her undoubted enjoyment transmitted themselves to me somehow and made my vaginal parts throb. I found this enjoyable.

  “God, you’re making me come, Sam. I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come! I’m coming! I’m coming! Oh, dear God, you’ve killed me! I’m dead,” Mandy screamed.

  “Now, she is being foolish,” I commented, “It is perfectly obvious that she is not deceased as she is still vocalising. In any case if Sam had killed her with hic cock he would be guilty of homicide and also, if he continued fucking her, he would be committing necrophilia, which I doubt you have on your menu in your brothel.”

  “It’s just exaggeration, honey,” Fifi gasped as she seemingly reached a climax herself.

  “Is there a time element involved?” I asked. “Will Sam be charged by the minute for he is taking an eternity to reach an orgasm?”

  “No, the clients can take as long as they like. I don’t like the girls to have more than two johns a day so they got plenty of time.”

  “That must leave them a lot of spare time. How do they utilise this?”

  “I try to encourage them to take up a hobby. Mandy’s actually a very accomplished sculptress. But some of them just like to read books or watch soaps. The hardest part is keeping them off the booze.”

  “Robohookers would not pose such problems,” I said proudly, “We could be switched off and stored in a cupboard when not required. Or programmed to perform maintenance tasks around the premises. I noticed that many of your rooms need redecorated.”

  “Here it comes! Here it comes!” Sam croaked loudly, increasing the tempo of his thrusts into Mandy’s puffy orifice.

  “How much will Sam pay for Mandy’s services?” I asked.

  “Straight fuck? A thousand bucks. And the house takes ten per cent.”

  “So, Mandy has earned nine hundred dollars for just over half an hour’s work and the business has taken only one hundred. How many girls do you have here?”

  “Just eight of us.”

  “Making a possible daily take of sixteen hundred dollars for the business. A sound business model.”

  “Glad you approve,” Fifi replied, pulling down her skirt.

  “Is the transaction concluded?” I asked as Sam withdrew from Mandy.

  “No, wait a minute. Sometimes Sam likes a little extra to finish off the session.”

 
; I was confused again as I imagined that having emitted his seminal fluids Sam would no longer be interested in further action. However, after he had withdrawn totally he buried his face between Mandy’s legs and began licking avidly at her lady parts.

  “It’s his little kink, licking his come out of the girl’s pussy afterwards. We charge him another 200 dollars for that.”

  “It seems to me that you should be paying him as he is, effectively, providing a cleaning service.”

  “Hush, child,” Fifi gasped, “That’s tantamount to blasphemy.”

  “Would you say that Sam was a typical client of this establishment?” I asked.

  “Aint no such thing, honey. Some of them are older, some younger. Some are taller, some wider. Big cocks, little cocks. Come a lot, come a little. But that licking the pussy clean, nobody else does that, so I guess it makes Sam extra special.”

  “I understand,” I said, “So the fact that Mandy made 483 upward thrusts with her hips while being fucked is irrelevant?”

  Fifi wrinkled her nose. “That is a tad mechanical. On another day she might have to work twice as hard for the same result. We are humans, Andi, and we don’t work to no mathematical formulas. Too many variables.”

  I nodded and deleted the file containing the spreadsheet I had just created from my hard drive.

  “Still, you think you’ve learned anything?” Fifi asked.

  “Perhaps. It was interesting to see a real hooker in action. To see the practice and not only know the theory.”

  “Exactly, which is what I tried to tell that idiot Frankenstone before he nailed you. Anyway, we have a little more time before I have to get you back to the plant, so I’ll just check to see if there are any more clients due.”

  She thumbed the intercom by her side and communicated with the reception desk to discover that a Mr Collins had just arrived and was requesting Fifi herself.

  This interested me as I thought watching my mentor in action would be very educational but Fifi did not seem enthusiastic.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “Well, Bill Collins has very specific demands. He’s not into straight sex.”

  “Wonderful, I must learn about the more perverse requirements I might be expected to fulfil. What is it Mr Collins enjoys? Anal? Oral?”

  “Lord no, nothing as simple as that. He likes to do what we’ve just been doing, watch.”

  “But that would mean you require a second gentleman for you to perform with.”

  “It’s not fucking he likes to watch.”

  “Not fucking? But that is the very basis of being a hooker. Please explain.”

  “Better to show you, I think. As long as Bill doesn’t mind.”

  As we walked downstairs to the reception hall I was extremely curious as to Mr Collins’ needs. “Does he like to watch you masturbate? Is that it? I have knowledge of this fetish. Or lesbian action? I am programmed for that and would be pleased to participate if required.”

  “No, honey, none of those. Just wait and see.”

  We joined Mr Collins at the small bar at one end of the lounge. He was a grey-haired, distinguished looking man, somewhat in the mould of the 20th Century film actor, Cary Grant, though this gentleman was black. This was a desirable type my information banks told me and I wondered why he required to pay for sexual favours if women thought him so worthy. I decided to enquire of Fifi later as, at the moment, she was explaining my presence to our client.

  “Andi’s my apprentice, Bill, and I want her to learn everything I do so, if you’ve no objection, I’d like her to sit in on this one.”

  “Certainly, certainly,” the big man boomed, “the more the merrier.”

  He asked me what I wished to drink and remembering Fifi’s admonition about her girls imbibing alcohol I looked to her for guidance.

  “Booze doesn’t affect you, does it, Andi?”

  “No.”

  “But you can drink?”

  “Oh yes, it is stored in a bladder and I void the fluid at an appropriate time.”

  Bill Collins looked at me curiously as I said this but I did not explain, as I was unsure if Fifi wanted to reveal my Robohooker standing to him. Nevertheless I was fairly sure that he would wonder at my strange speech patterns so I said, “I am from Turkmenistan, Mr Collins, and my English, she is not good yet.”

  “Oh, give her a Scotch with water,” Fifi said.

  Bill ordered this from the barmaid, who was also the receptionist, Mrs Harris, but did not enquire of Fifi what she desired, but ordered her a large glass of beer.

  I had been programmed to drink like a lady, with genteel sips, but Fifi sank the beer as if she was dying of thirst, upon which Bill immediately ordered her another. As we drank we conducted the social procedure of chatting.

  “What part of Turkmenistan you from, kid?” Bill asked.

  I had thought that my choice of Turkmenistan as a homeland would be sufficiently remote to deflect enquiry from Bill but it seemed he had some oil holdings there. This was unfortunate as my geographical knowledge of the area was scant.

  “The north,” I replied.

  “Uh, my wells are all in the west. Lovely country, I hear, though I’ve never been there.”

  Fifi sensed that I might need rescuing from this conversation, so she said, “Haven’t seen you for a while, Bill.”

  “Been in Africa searching for my ancestors. I’m descended from peasant farmers, thank God. Have another beer.”

  As her third glass was presented to her I cast a worried glance towards my tutor.

  “It’s okay, it’s low alcohol, Andi,” Fifi explained. “If I drank the amount Bill expects me to of normal strength I’d be flat on my back.”

  This resolved one idea which had occurred to me, that Bill wished to get Fifi inebriated. But Fifi had said that he only liked to watch, so perhaps pleasure could be derived from watching another person get drunk. Humans seemed to be able to become aroused by just about anything, so it was a possibility.

  After her fourth beer Fifi started squirming on her bar stool and looking uncomfortable. “I think I’m ready, Bill,” she said to her client.

  “Hell no, have another beer.”

  Another ale was produced and Fifi drank it but with noticeably less enthusiasm than earlier. When she finally finished this one she again announced that she was ready, though I still had no idea what for, but again Bill forced another beer on her. By this time she was crossing her legs desperately and it was obvious that her bladder was bursting.

  Half way through her sixth glass she slammed it down and muttered, “Enough, I gotta go.”

  She jumped off the bar stool and sped towards the ladies toilet, waving to me to follow her. I knew that it was common practice for human women to visit the lavatory together, so I did not demur in obeying her. What I did not expect was that Bill too would trail after me.

  In the toilet Fifi entered one of the cubicles but left the door open. She pulled up her skirt, wriggled down her panties and sat on the pan as Bill elbowed me aside so that he would be directly in front of her.

  “Wait for it,” he shouted, unzipping his pants and pulling out his penis which, though erect, was not of a noteworthy length. He stroked it a few times, his gaze never leaving Fifi’s crotch as she stroked aside her pubic hair and parted the lips of her pussy.

  “Okay!” he shouted finally and Fifi allowed her floodgates to open, causing a fountain of urine to explode from her urethra.

  “Thar she blows!” Bill shouted, stroking vigorously at his cock.

  The first urgent spurt over, Fifi now began peeing in a more genteel fashion, a languid stream of seemingly never-ending piss. Every time she dribbled to a halt, Bill’s flushed face would utter “More! More!” and Fifi would strain to manage another few drops. Finally Bill groaned and his emission shot from the head of his penis into the wad of toilet paper that Fifi handed him. He wiped his cock clean and returned his cock to his pants before thanking Fifi for her services and d
eparting.

  “Is that what he wished to watch, a woman performing a basic human requirement?”

  “Gets him off and he pays fifteen hundred dollars for it,” Fifi said as she readjusted her clothing. “Now, we got to rush, or we’ll be late getting you back to the plant for your tune up.”

  Humans did indeed become aroused by the strangest things, but even I was surprised when, as she drove me back to International Robotics, Fifi informed me that Bill liked to treat himself on his birthday by actually drinking her pee, though only once it was chilled and served with a slice of lemon.

  I BECOME A LOTTERY PRIZE

  Over the next few weeks I witnessed many more sexual encounters in the Pleasure Palace and also spent time sitting and chatting with my fellow whores though they were wary of me, my electronic brain a sponge for information about what my future career would entail. The ways of humans were indeed strange. One would have imagined that it would be the unloved and lonely who sought out sex which they had to pay for, but it seemed that many of the clients were there because their partner refused to provide a specific sexual service, or even to include their partner in their sexual shenanigans. Thus Fluffy Furball had only ever had sex with Sonny Kingsley when his wife, Rhonda, had been present and participated. They indulged in a form of role-play where Sonny would begin making love to Fluffy, only to be ‘caught’ by Rhonda, who would be so aroused by the sight that she would insist on joining in. It was a minor fetish but allowed Fluffy to charge them double as there were two of them playing.

  Eventually, came the day, when Fifi told me I was ready to offer my body for sale in the tradition of hookers throughout the centuries. She had taught me all that she could and I was ready to give my body to others (for a reasonable price). She had several strong arguments with Professor Jim Frankenstone about what I should charge, but refused outright to follow his company’s belief that I should be a mass market product.

  “You can sell her pussy for ten cents for all I care,” she screeched at one point, “once there are thousands of her available, but right now there’s only one and it’s madness to give it away. You’re in this for the long haul, Jimmy boy, but I only get one crack at it, till I get her perfected for you, so I’m pricing her premium, cause guys will pay through the nose for something special. And right now boning a Robohooker is something special.”