He watched Nina climb on top of the funny little man tied to the bed with piss stained underwear. And he admired the shape of her ass in skin tight neoprene. It stirred the 20 year old in him who still existed as a pattern called at will through a beam of light. The simple code instructions executed, setting off a chain reaction of tingly sensations which made him feel flush. His pulse (if there could be such a thing for a sentient data pattern) quickened, his mind exalted in the rudimentary carnality of his past as a mammalian primate.

Such diversions were not beneath Quin’s heightened I.Q. He never felt constricted by morality as a human, and as a machine consciousness he was no different. All of his emotions and every tick and preference of his personality were preserved in the transfer of his mind to the virtual realm. And even though he spent most of his time occupied with complex equations and problem solving, while managing the career of his alter-ego, Naomi, he craved pleasure, and he had a multitude of channels into which he could funnel the slightest ephemera or symptom of his past humanity.

He never ceased examining the microscopic details of human interactions. And most often enjoyed absurd and dramatic encounters such as this – humans acting in a way which confronted their own limitations of emotion, of pleasure, of pain… The exchanges underscored for him the rightness of his decision to leave his body and project himself into a machine. Where others saw a wildly perverse display unworthy of human dignity, Quinn saw an aching need to break out of the human shell with its limited cognitive, sensory, and survival abilities, and to go beyond these limits and – as he still hoped – approach the infinite.

Quin zoomed closely into Nina’s face carefully noting the choreography of her facial muscles; the constriction of her corrugator supercilii and the upward twinge of the labii minoris beneath her eye. And he especially loved the increased blood flow in her iris, how it twinkled like a galaxy, and how with the highest resolution he could see the corpuscles moving in the blood vessels there – astral bodies flowing in a circle around a great dark planet. He heard her growl, low and guttural like a man.

That’s my girl, he thought to himself, as he watched her catlike and bulging with a finely exposed musculature under porcelain skin which glowed sex and power.

She leaned close to Guy’s face, bearing her teeth and whispered, “You disturbed my bath, fucker.” She placed special emphasis on the ‘fucker,’ and felt the chills run from her perineum up her spine as he inserted himself into the cat-of-nine, and probed gently through her garment with one of the cat’s tails. He made himself felt so slightly, as he began to decode the thoughts going through her brain as tiny electrical signals, myriad ones and zeros, coming across his circuits setting off a new wave of sense memory feelings.

She would fight him, the little twinge inside her head. And he would retreat to the superior olivary nucleus inside her thalamus, waiting for his next opportunity to venture back to her higher brain, to see through her eyes as he fucked her with the whip she was holding in her own hand. But no matter, he had other multiple views from which to observe as she continued her remarks to the silly man, unaware of what Quin was doing.

“Mistress doesn’t like her bath interrupted.” She purred, leather pronged heel of the cat down his chest. “You know I don’t.”

“I own you.” He heard Guy murmur, as he attempted to swat her nose with his tongue.

Quin felt the rush of blood as Nina’s heartbeat jumped in speed. He felt the adrenaline coursing through her. The heady rush of it nearly blinded him, but he prevailed. She reeled back and coughed and phlegm, which Quin calculated contained point zero, zero, one, five percent of cigarette tar and various other contaminants, directly into Guy’s face.

This made Quin chuckle. He knew he would never be able to take the street out of the girl. Thankfully such an attempt would work counter to his plans.

“Aren’t you going to masturbate for me, bitch?” Was all Guy wanted to know.

He was in her now, with the whip. He replaced just a snipped of code, and to her the end of the whip felt like the most amazing penis she had ever had the pleasure to sit on. Her mind never questioned how the penis managed to get through her shining neoprene. He deeply appreciated that she didn’t seem to care, and he watched with great pride as she began rocking fantastically, gently and deliberately, as he moved forward and back, up and down, inside her. All of her juices flowed. The temperature of her skin climbed steadily higher, as her vulva, clitoris, inner thighs and breasts became engorged and lit on fire.

“I own you.” He could hear Guy say. And a close up shot revealed spiked levels of adrenaline and testosterone. This “Guy” was definitely on a power trip, but Quin knew how to throw a wrench in that. Reaching out with another tendril of Nina’s cat, he traced himself around Guy’s throat and began a relentless constriction of his airway.

Nina was too busy with her gyrations – her back arched in the finest display Quin had ever seen – to feel Guy gouging her forearms with his fingernails, or notice him turning blue. And when he finally disappeared from beneath her, having suffered a signal interruption which disconnected him from the grid, Nina was deep in the orgasm of her own auto-erotic cathexis.

Quin mused pleasantly at his conquest. He enjoyed the sight of her, leaning back and moving on the blood red quilted duvet, the plush fullness of goose-down – however virtual – sensuously smoothing her arched feet, her clenched toes.

“Soon my love, we will be one.” He dreamed as her feminine ecstasy rushed like blood through his circuits.

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