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  Her head began rolling from side to side on the pillow, her body bucking and arching on the bunk as it came alive to its exploration. It examined her clitoris until it became inflamed, driving her mad with the lightness and sensitivity of the touch against the puffy organ. She pushed her hips upward, trying to feel it more intensely, to get relief from the raging fire that it had begun within her. As though sensing her desperate need for relief, the entity increased the pressure of its touch until Mila felt powerless against it and would have done anything to prolong the delicious agony.

  The erotic sensation of the entity’s touch rolled down her legs to her toes. She groaned again as it tested each digit and tickled the soles of her feet before stroking its way back up her legs and returning to her throbbing clitoris.

  Immediately, an orgasm sped through her body, thundering past her brain and into the hot blood that raced about her veins at breakneck speed, propelled onward by her wildly beating heart. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “Oh God…God…Oh God…” Her voice dropped to a soft sobbing cry, the cry of an approaching climax. Her teeth bit at her swollen lips, drawing blood until it trickled down her chin, her eyes squeezed shut as spasm after spasm clenched her stomach.

  She climaxed in a blaze of fury, sweat, vaginal secretions, and violent convulsions. And yet the entity did not stop its exploration of her innermost secrets. It was everywhere at once, in her womb, in her mouth, her ears, her pussy, her brain, breasts, and nipples. It was as though it knew exactly what to do, that in the exploration of her body and mind it had learned how to please her, how to make her orgasm so her climax would drive her out of her mind.

  “Yes…Yes…Yes!” Her cries became ever louder as her climax drained her of energy. Then her voice faded to a whimper. “Please…Please…Stop, I can’t stand it anymore.” She felt as though the entity was sucking her sexuality from her. Her juices, hot and sticky, flooded from her in a thick musky flow, drenching her thighs and the bed sheets in a pool of thick, creamy secretions. Her body thrashed wildly about until the covers were a crumpled, damp mess. She screamed in apparent agony, though in reality it was a scream of pure animal lust—her scream of desire to be totally ravished by the entity, her entity.

  The sleep pod door hissed open. “Commander? Are you alright? I sense you are in pain. You have blood on your chin. Have you injured yourself?” Incredibly, there seemed to be concern in his clinical voice.

  The entity began to withdraw from Mila’s brain, vagina, and breasts. It reduced its touch to a point in her navel and she could feel it fading, leaving her body. Then it was gone. “Please don’t go,” she whispered in a panic. “Please stay with me.”

  “I have no intention of leaving, Commander, not until I have ascertained your wellbeing.”

  Mila opened her eyes, smiled languidly, and stretched. “Of course I am alright, Harry.”

  “You have blood on your lips, Commander.”

  She trailed a finger across her mouth and looked at the result with dreamy eyes. “I bit my lip, Harry. It is nothing.”

  “I am not sure I understand. Why did you bite your lip?”

  Then decided she would be honest. “I was having an orgasm, Harry—a massive orgasm, the best I have ever had. It was the entity. It produced a climax in me so powerful I thought I was going to die.”

  Harry paused and Mila could tell he was searching his memory banks. “Ahh, yes. Orgasm—a sexual climax characterized by feelings of pleasure centred in the genitals,” he recited. “Now I understand. But what I do not understand, Commander, is why you bit your lip strong enough to spill your blood.”

  How could she explain to a robot, even one as advanced as Harry, that a woman biting her lip at the height of sexual release was a normal event rather than the exception? She sighed. “Never mind, Harry.” She realised she was still lying naked on the bunk. “Can you leave me? I want to get dressed.”

  “I did notice your nakedness, Commander, but I can assure you that a nude human female form means nothing to me.”

  Mila was almost sure she could see a glint in his eyes—they seemed to be looking right at her swollen, heaving breasts—but that would be impossible, wouldn’t it? “Nevertheless, Harry. I would like you to leave.”

  “Very well, Commander.” The door hissed closed behind him. Then it slid open again. “Commander, perhaps you should know—the entity has now left your body and is no longer in the vicinity of the survival capsule.”

  “I am well aware of that. Will you please leave?” She knew very well that the entity had gone. She stared at the door as though expecting Harry to enter yet again.

  Chapter Six

  Refreshed and dressed again, Mila went into the living pod, where Harry was still working on the SR. She stood and watched him for a while, her eyes drawn to his buttocks like a magnet. She wished one of the other crewmembers had survived the crash, for she longed to feel a man in her arms—a real, warm, hot-blooded man. To hold him and caress his buttocks as he lay on top of her. She flushed at her inconsideration. They were lying dead, and she wanted one alive to fulfil her carnal desires.

  “Have you reprogrammed the SR, yet Harry?” she grunted.

  “I have almost completed it, Commander.” He pressed a few buttons and, with a whir and a few flashes from its operating lights, it produced a misshapen steak. At least, Mila supposed it was a steak—it didn’t look very much like one. Harry placed it on the table in front of her. “Your steak, Commander,” he said as he handed her a knife and fork.

  She cut into the steak tentatively, and tasted it. “It might not look like a steak, Harry, but it sure tastes like one. Well done.”

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  She looked at the robot. “Sit down, Harry,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”

  Harry sat at the table. “Yes, Commander?”

  She already knew the answer to the questions she was about to ask. “Harry, is it really true that you are not affected by the sight of a naked female?”

  “Correct.”

  “So when you watched me having an orgasm, it meant nothing to you?”

  Harry’s hesitation was uncharacteristic of the robot. Normally, it answered her instantly. “Again you are correct, Commander.”

  Her heart began beating harder. “So if I spent my time naked in the SC it would not affect you in any way?”

  Again the briefest hint of hesitation. “No, Commander, it would not.”

  “Would you be affected if you touched me?”

  “Touched you? Touched you in what way, Commander?”

  She began to feel sick to her stomach. “Harry, don’t be obtuse. I mean if you touched me…sexually.”

  This time there was a definite pause. “Commander, I am programmed neither to respond to nor react to, human sexual stimulation.”

  She gulped and swallowed the lump that had risen to her throat. “What if…What if…I touched you?”

  “I do not know, Commander. I doubt that my creator envisioned such a situation.”

  “Okay, Harry.” Mila felt an intense heat invade her face. How could she tell Harry that she wanted to stroke his buttocks, to feel his strong arms around her? She busied herself with her steak. “Potatoes and carrots and a nice pepper sauce would have been good with this,” she said eventually with a catch in her voice.

  “I will see what I can create next time, Commander.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “Commander, if I may ask, are you feeling unwell? You appear to be somewhat flushed.”

  Involuntarily, her hands went to her face and touched her hot cheeks. “I’m alright, Harry.”

  “As you know, Commander, flushed cheeks can be the precursor of an ailment.”

  “Yes, I know. They can also mean a woman is either embarrassed. Or…aroused.”

  “Interesting,” Harry said. Mila could tell his memory banks were working overtime. “And which is it for you, Commander?”

  “Damn it, Harry, I am bloody arous
ed. Now please leave the subject alone.”

  “Of course, Commander. Although I seem to remember that it was not I that raised the question of sexual feelings, nudity, and your apparent orgasm and its subsequent climactic conclusion.” He hesitated and said, “Are you able to tell me why you are currently aroused, Commander?”

  Mila was horrified. What was she thinking, talking about sexual matters with a robot? What next? She’d be the laughing stock of the space school back home, if she ever got back. “Never mind, Harry. Let’s change the subject.

  “Certainly, Commander.”

  She sighed. How long was she going to endure this loneliness and longing?

  * * * *

  Mila pressed the button to open the machine room door. Harry looked up from his work. “Can I help you, Commander? Is there something that you require?”

  She grinned—she had decided that she needed to do something, something positive, to alleviate the boredom. “I’ve come to give you a hand.”

  “A hand?” he said, looking at his own hands, turning them over so he could examine them from both sides. “I do already have two perfectly good hands of my own, Commander.”

  “Oh, Harry, you are so dumb at times. That means I want to help you. So…Can I?”

  “Of course, Commander. Can you please connect the secondary wiring loom to the thermionic valve switch and tangential circuit to the…”

  “Err…Alright, you win.” She resignedly interrupted his flow of instructions. Of course, she had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Win, Commander? I was not aware we were engaged in a competition.”

  She scowled furiously at the robot, “Never mind, Harry. Carry on with your work.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Mila wandered back into the living quarters and studied the myriad of instruments. The readings hadn’t changed, except of course the date and time—Earth time. Eleven hundred hours, 27 January 2135. The remainder of the instruments—altitude, velocity, fuel, power, and direction—didn’t change and never would, she thought morosely. Wandering into her sleep pod, she stared at the sonic screwdriver and wondered if she should try it again. But then, it was only 11:15. A mite early to start masturbating. She decided to go outside and donned her protective clothing. Sticking her head into the machine room, she said, “I’m going outside for some exercise, Harry.”

  “Very well, Commander. Would you do something for me while you are taking your constitutional?”

  Mila was delighted that Harry actually wanted her to do something for him. “Of course, Harry. What is it I can do?”

  “Can you go to the spacecraft and retrieve a klystron modulator from the control room? You will require the sonic screwdriver to assist you in this task.”

  Damn it, Mila thought. The bloody robot had stressed sonic screwdriver, she was sure of it. Keeping her face neutral, she said, “How will I recognise it, this, err, klystron…What was it?”

  “Klystron modulator.” Harry turned to his console, punched a few buttons, and on the screen an image of the klystron modulator appeared along with the schematics of the spacecraft. “It is 20cm by 30cm and 15 cm thick. It weighs .970 kilograms. You will be required to remove the console cover and disconnect the modulator from the wiring loom by disconnecting this clip, and this connector.”

  Mila was thrilled to be of help. To go to the surface and do something was better than aimlessly walking round the SC. That Harry had actually asked her was a milestone in itself. “Right, Harry, I’ll get going then.”

  “Very well, Commander.”

  Mila collected the sonic screwdriver from her sleep pod. Her vaginal secretions still coated the handle and smelled heavily of her pussy. She wiped it clean with a self-lubricating tissue and pushed the tissue into a nearby disposal chute. Stuffing the screwdriver into the pouch on her jacket, she donned her breathing mask and entered the airlock.

  She was puffing slightly after trekking the half-kilometre to the spacecraft. The wreck was nose down in the planet surface, but outwardly, it showed remarkably few signs of damage. She squeezed into the open airlock and stepped gingerly into the control room. Inside was a different matter—debris and broken instruments were scattered about the floor. Twisted metal made progress difficult as she threaded her way carefully through the wreckage. It was in such a jumble. However, she soon identified the console that she had to remove. She brushed some bits of debris from the top of it.

  She took the screwdriver from her pouch, and turned it on. Immediately, the vibrations shot up her arm and rattled around in her brain. Turning it off again, she noticed that it was still on the lowest setting. How was she supposed to remove any screws when the damn vibrating machine affected her like that?

  Touching the tip to screw number one, she tried again. The vibrations spread over her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, like a solar wind across the deserts of the dwarf planet Haumea. Her vagina began to moisten and the first glimmer of an orgasm rumbled across her stomach. However, she gritted her teeth until the screw had loosened and she was able to remove it.

  She turned the screwdriver off, glad of the respite, and dropped the screw into a handy hollow in the twisted metal. Only another seven screws to go, she thought grimly.

  The second screw stubbornly refused to loosen. Her heart thumping with the exertion, she turned the screwdriver to position number two. The vibrations worked on the screw but, she realised, they were also working on her. They spread from her hand up to the back of her head and then down her spine to her buttocks. They coursed through her body until she unashamedly began to enjoy the sensation. A small orgasm left her bathed in sweat and her heart pounding wildly.

  She could hold the screwdriver no longer and dropped it to the deck. She stood panting and watched it wriggle across the floor, heading for a wide crack. With a groan, she dived after it and caught it just before it disappeared from sight into the vast depths of the machinery below. Harry wouldn’t have liked that, she thought, and quickly turned it off.

  Looking between the remaining six screws and the screwdriver, she wondered how she was going to complete Harry’s task. With a gulp, she turned it on again and tried screw number three. Immediately, another intensive orgasm shook her body from head to toe. She doubled over as wave after wave of the vibrations heated her blood to the boiling point and her beating heart spread it throughout her body like lava pouring from the volcano on the planet Severus. She gritted her teeth and held the driver on the screw as it slowly unwound. At last, it dropped free and she turned the screwdriver off.

  She felt exhausted. Did Harry know how this would affect her? Damn it, she would have to return to the SC and tell him she couldn’t do it. She turned to leave and then realised that she didn’t want to tell him she couldn’t carry out the only task he had ever given her in the eight months since the crash. She would appear a failure in his eyes. No, she would just have to carry on, in spite of the orgasms, and complete the job successfully.

  With gritted teeth and thumping heart, she attacked screw number four. The vibrations grew in intensity, and yet another orgasm shot through her until she could feel her juices flooding from her, wetting her suit and thighs. Her body shook and she had difficulty holding the tip of the screwdriver against the screw. At last, the screw was free, and with her stomach clenched, she took it from the hole and dropped it into the hollow with the others. Beads of sweat stood on her forehead, and she could feel the dampness of her orgasm between her legs. Only four more orgasms…err…screws to go, she corrected herself with a weak grin.

  After four more mind-numbing orgasms that left her legs weak and trembling, she removed the last screw and dropped it alongside the others on the console. With her heart rate at 180 beats per minute, she sat on a nearby ledge to recover. Her eyes pulsated in time with her racing heart—she closed them and breathed deeply, trying to get her raging emotions under control.

  The intercom startled her when it crackled into life. “Com
mander, are you having a problem removing the klystron modulator?” Harry asked.

  Were seven orgasms, one after the other, a problem? She didn’t think so, but she did feel rather exhausted. “No problem, Harry. I’ve finished extracting the modulator now. I shall be back shortly.”

  “I shall look forward to your return, Commander,” his voice crackled again.

  Look forward to her return? What did he mean? That was not like Harry. After all, he was a robot.

  She looked for the connectors and disconnected them without trouble, and then removed the klystron modulator from the console, wrapping a cloth around it and carrying it back to the SC. She opened the door to the machine room where Harry was working and held the modulator aloft triumphantly. “Got it.” She grinned.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Harry said expressionlessly.

  Mila was disappointed. She had expected at least a well done from her damn infuriating metal companion.

  Chapter Seven

  “Commander, I have replicated the sustenance you require,” Harry called into Mila’s sleep pod, where she was resting following the seven orgasms she’d experienced while extracting the klystron modulator. Why had the sonic screwdriver affected her so profoundly?

  Her mind was still foggy with sleep when she went into the living pod. On the table was a steak with potatoes and carrots. A creamy black pepper sauce oozed over the meat. She was astounded. Harry had really produced the goods this time. She took a taste and it was every bit as good as it looked. She wondered why the SR programmers had opted for unpalatable goo instead of this gourmet delight.

  When she had finished eating, she pushed her plate away, at last satisfied with food, the best she’d eaten since the mission began.

  “That was delicious, Harry.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” he said as he dropped the dirty dishes in the recycle unit. She watched his muscles ripple under his suit as he cleaned up.