I’ve had no appetite for several days now, so I’d like to take the opportunity to mention Pearl is one of the best s/os to have in this situation. She doesn’t notice as quickly as you might think only because she herself does not have the same need but within the first few days she becomes suspicious enough of your behaviors to directly ask how you’ve been eating. Once it’s explained to her that you haven’t because you just don’t have a want for it anymore, she’s honestly a little confused. Isn’t food one of the most important things an intelligent organic lifeform routinely requires, both biologically and culturally? It won’t do for you to deny yourself or your body that. Any food is better than no food—and so she wastes no time ordering what you find most bearable to consume in this state. Obviously, she tries to push you a little towards the more nutritious of the group, but who is she to stop you from eating more than you have in days just because it’s not leafy greens? If it takes longer than expected for your appetite to return, she isn’t impatient. It is not tedious at all to her, establishing scheduled mealtimes and providing reminders when you near skipping two or three of such things. After all, this will pass. And if it doesn’t, well…she enjoys your company all the same.
CW: Sexual innuendos with machinery, technically nothing NSFW by our standards but NSFW by robot standards, probably ooc for Pearl, Pearl x Fem! Reader
What if Reader accidentally turned Pearl on by plugging a cable into an outlet, since that is pretty much like sex to machines? Pearl looks over to see Reader sticking in a plug and although she isn’t doing anything sexual by our standards, Pearl is just buffering at the sight.
It’s the same when Reader charges her phone too. When she sticks that charger into the phone’s opening, Pearl is bluescreening cuz she thinks Reader wants to do that with her. It’s like Reader doing the “finger in hole” motion with her hands, only it’s with wires and it can make any robot, android or cyborg overheat.
A/N: Just something short and sweet that popped into my head while (very slowly) making my way through 4.3
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"Question:" Madam Pearl intones above you. "What is it that brings humans the most pleasure?"
Her tone remains pleasant, the cadence robotic in the way she forms her mouth around each individual syllable. If you didn't know any better you could have easily mistaken this as a polite, utterly benign boardroom meeting.
The reality of it doesn't quite match though, and you stiffly, uncomfortably, shift where she's got your prostrated on the floor. With your arms mercilessly wrenched behind you and tightly secured by a length of red rope across your back, there is very little wiggle room left at your disposal. Especially not when that same length of twine is pulled taut to tie off at your captured ankles behind your head, forcing you into an unseemly hogtie.
But the worst of it is not the way she'd tied your hair back into the rigging to keep your head elevated. Nor is it even the complicated patterns she'd meticulously knotted around your tits to squeeze them into a full, heavy bulge on your chest. It's the thick, abrasive line of hemp that's been fed down your front and pulled up between your legs. You're painfully aware of how it digs into you, pressing so hard into soft lips that they're made to spread under the pressure and grip around the rope.
It's difficult to breathe like this. Folded up into such a tight, uncompromising twist of limbs and slowly oozing honeyed arousal while Madam Pearl simply watches. Observing. Filing away any interesting data for later analysis.
A faltering groan slips from your panting mouth.
"Is it pure satiation in its simplest form?" She goes on, as if that had been answer enough for her. "Or is the experience more fulfilling, more … worthwhile when you are made to work for it first?"
With a graceful gesture that flicks the long sleeve of her kimono out of the way, Madam Pearl sedately kneels down before you. Her hand extends towards your face where she proceeds to lightly cup against your cheek, caressing you with exceeding care.
"Is the pleasure of a gentle touch preferable? Or does a strict hand net greater results?"
Dropping her fingers, she finds the stiffened bud of one breast with thumb and forefinger to give the vulnerable nipple a punishing twist.
You suck in a sharp gasp, sniffling sadly and whining as you helplessly rock on your stomach. There is nothing you can do to fend her off. No way to escape her curious probing of your body. You're completely at her mercy like this, and she clearly has none to spare in her pursuit of understanding.
Oh, how had it even come to this? You were just an intern, dammit.
"Interesting." She says at last, pulling her fingers back to neatly fold them in her lap. "Your facial expressions would historically suggest that you are not enjoying what's happening. And yet, despite that, all of your physical readings are off the charts. Conjecture: you find pleasure in the pain."
"N - noooo!"
But she isn't listening.
Standing in a quiet rustle of silk and cotton, Madam Pearl turns towards the business end of the pulley system she's got you attached to. With a mere press of a button, the crane above you starts to softly whir away.
And you're slowly lifted from the floor, blubbering a near frantic sound as the ropes pull your immobilized frame up into a state of suspension. Gravity tugs at your body now, forcing your weight to settle even more fully on the unbudging twine as your pussy throbs under the intensified friction. Sore and tender, aching for relief. Your tits hurt too, where they're pinched between a series of knots to make them swell out from your body in an obscene display.
Even when she stops the mechanism to leave you dangling from the ceiling at about waist level it doesn't really get any better. The paused momentum makes you lightly swing in a pendulous arc through the air, ropes creaking faintly, while you sob a broken little sound. Even when you squirm, instinctively seeking a marginally less uncomfortable position in your bondage, it just seems to make your restraints tighten even more.
And your poor cunt …
"It's a conundrum, isn't it?" Madam Pearl says, coming forward to stand in front of you again. "The popular and largely accepted belief is that humans tend to shy away from discomfort. They don't like things that are painful or unpleasant to experience. In many ways, this is the creed by which Ahatopia is built around. An Arcadia of the Elation. A playground for hedonism and enjoyment without the need of justification."
Watching you closely, she tips her head to one side.
"I wonder … is it simply that we haven't reached your pain threshold yet?"
You shake your head, or try to anyway. The knot in your hair keeps your neck pulled back and makes it nearly impossible to move. But she had not gagged you, luckily, and you're free to chant your protests. "No, no, please, Madam Pearl, please don't do it —"
When her hand next comes up it is with a diminutive metal contraption pinched between her fingers. You don't fully grasp what it is, quickly losing sight of it with your head at such an awkward angle, but you soon feel her fitting it over one of your coiled nipples. The blunt grips close down to latch on and hold, sending intense shockwaves of hurt through your system.
Tears spring up in your eyes as you woundedly lurch, shuddering so hard the rope starts to sway again. She remains impassive though, and withdraws her hand to let that punishing bite drag at your screaming teat. All of your mindless writhing just grinds your cunt on the ruthless hemp more, rubbing the delicate clit raw.
Your breathing painfully quickens, turning shallow.
And when she clamps the other tit, you hear the distant patter of your copious arousal hitting the floor. Plap. Plap.
Thinking about being Pearl’s muse for her artworks, having to constantly be called in to model for her as she wants to get better at creating original paintings. She figures if she could just replace the humans in the original paintings with you, then surely it’s a step in the right direction. Each painting session with Pearl was quiet and awkward at first, minimal talking as Pearl concentrated on trying to paint from the soul. Whatever that meant. It’s only when you begin making light conversation with her that things start to take a turn.
The Intellitron finds herself…almost enjoying your company when you speak. She thought your voice would be a distraction from her work, but the strokes of her paintbrush seem to dance along the canvas smoothly as she captures your beauty. Her earlier paintings lacked any warmth, just another copy she conjured up in her head, only the figures were just images of you. Yet the more you two met up, conversed, and talked about the artworks, Pearl found that her paintings have grown livelier by the session.
One evening, when you weren’t even in her studio for her to paint, Pearl thought about you, about your voice and jovial personality from the sessions. Her fingers twitched for the paintbrush and for once, her mind went blank.
She lifted the brush to the canvas and her mind simply filled with the picture of your face. She had painted you several times now, committed your body to memory thanks to her mechanical brain. She didn’t even have a reference this time, just tried to paint you from memory. Each mark, each dimple, each little show of teeth when you smiled, Pearl realized she had memorized it all.
It is only when she finally pulls away from the canvas that she realizes what she’s done. An original painting; made by yours truly. The lines were a little rough around the edges and there were a few noticeable changes here and there that she had to cover up, but it was an original painting that Pearl made by herself.
She stares up at the portrait of you, wondering if she had truly painted from the soul. At your painted figure smiling down at her, Pearl felt her internal wiring heat up.
“So…this is painting from the soul…” she whispers to herself, looking up at you in awe. “From…feelings.”
Her internal software pulses at the thought. To think…Pearl’s first original painting was a portrait of you. To paint from the soul means to paint from feelings after all, and it seemed that Pearl was able to create something original simply due to her secret feelings for you.
Pearl has enough disposable income to commission virtually every artist in the cosmos and still chooses to spend countless hours learning to hand-paint your likeness. if you even care
