Dark Desires.

Servalan walked through the door to her suite and smiled. These were accommodations befitting her status as a Sovereign Minister. However, now she relaxed, she would be just plain Servalan and left the cares of the Ministry behind her. The accommodations were still to her liking, they reminded her of the hotel she stayed at for that special weekend.

She lay back on the elegantly upholstered, exquisitely comfortable, chaise. The thought of that weekend stirred Servalan, her hand moved down to her crotch. She needed something, a quick orgasm would be perfect for her now. She was ready, she thought of her favorite fantasy. Torturing political prisoners in a dungeon, that one always got her there in a hurry. She hadn’t had that pleasure for real, for years, during the revolution was the last time. It hadn’t been long before the new regime had put a stop to that. One of the many things she intended to change if she could get to be Prime Minister.

The fantasy was doing its work, she reached for the hem of her gown, then …

• Compatible partner available.

She was jarred out of her fantasy by that. In a most aggravated tone, she said to thin air, “What! Show yourself, so I can talk to you!”

To Servalan, a man in an old fashioned dinner jacket, white tie, and white gloves, appeared in front of her. To any other observer, there was nothing there. This was the personification of her int, her neural interface, she called him ‘Jeaves’. Most people in the system had had an int implanted shortly after birth and were used to the interaction. In fact, most people didn’t even realize they were interacting with an int, it was so natural to them.

Servalan had only had hers implanted a few days earlier. She was the only one on her planet to have one, so she could open up relations with the system. She was anything but used to its creepy messages. She’d insisted it show itself in a manner she could interact normally with. Direct interaction with the int was usually discouraged, but in this case there was no other way.

It was her int that had found the image of her preferred accommodations, and the accommodation unit’s effector had patterned the furnishings on that. The effector was the machine which performed what looked like magic. It could do literally anything inside the accommodation unit.

Jeaves appeared in front of her, and asked, “Yes Minister?”

“You’re snooping on me? This is personal?”

Jeaves had an unflappable demeanor. This was seen as the best way to deal with their difficult charge. “It would be impossible for me to snoop Minister, I’m part of you.”

“But it private, can’t I turn you off?”

Jeaves, unusually, looked puzzled. “That would negate the function of an int. Nothing can be private from your int, its job is to know your most intimate desires so they can be fulfilled.”

“But, …” The implications of his statement sank in. “You could fulfill that desire?”

“Yes Minister. As I indicated, a compatible partner is available.”

“There’s someone who wants to do that?”

“I can’t speak to their motivations, but their desires align with yours. There were 751 potential partners identified, one has been selected as most compatible.” There were somewhere around a thousand billion people in the system. At any time, there were billions who might be desiring a partner. Of those billions, less than a thousand might want to be on the receiving end of her fantasy. In times past, she would have been unbelievably lucky to have found any of them.

The system, was always trying to match people. The machines could provide any imaginable experience, but they wanted humans to interact with each other, not with machines. She was trying to grasp the concept. “You’re a dating service as well?”

“We strive to fulfill your every desire. Often that is achieved by matching compatible partners.”

“You could get me someone I could do that to?” She wasn’t sure she was understanding this.

“Yes Minister.”

She thought of the downside, “But if word of this ever got out, it could ruin me.”

“They are willing to have a block installed in their int, so they could never communicate anything which happened, without your permission.”

“You could guarantee this would be a secret?”

“Yes Minister.”

The prospect was just too tempting for Servalan, against her better judgement, she said, “OK. How does this work now?”

“We will deliver them to you.”

She didn’t know what that meant in actuality. “How long will that take?”

“He can be here in less than a minute.”

“Oh.” She was surprised. She should get ready, but how do you get ready to torture a political prisoner.

She looked down at her gown. Jeaves spoke, “If your attire is not to your liking, I can arrange for anything else you desire.”

“Yeah, sure.” She was getting used to the dressing thing, but for now the gown was suitable for her purposes. It was brilliant white, and slinky. It clung to her curves in a most pleasing manner, a few folds of fabric around her neck added gravitas. “This is fine.”

“They’re here Minister.” Jeaves’ announcement was unexpectedly quick, her pulse quickened and her mouth dried.

She stood up, still not sure what to expect. “OK.” The door burst open, and unseen hands propelled a man into the room, he fell onto the floor and lay still.

She approached the man and poked him with the heavy hide whip she had in her hand. She did a double take, she had a whip in her hand. It hadn’t been there a moment before, but it was part of her fantasy. It must be the int again, it did things like that, she hadn’t gotten used to that. Jeaves chimed in from the side, “Yes Minister, we placed the shamback in your hand.”

She recognized the whip, about a meter long, the handle was thick enough to comfortably fill her grip, it tapered some to the tip. It was used by herdsmen herding sham-dear on her planet. It was one of the few things to make an impression on their thick hide. On a person, it could be quite devastating. The new regime had banned its use by the security services for crowd control. Again, a decision she wanted to change.

She poked the man again, there was a reaction. “Look at me!”

The man cowered, but looked up at her.

“Do you know who I am?” He nodded. “Speak!” She commanded.

“Yes, you’re the woman from the new planet.”

“I’m not just any woman! I’m a Sovereign Minister of the Planet of New Boston!” Her status was important to her, she never let anyone forget it.

“Yes mistress.”

Infuriated, Servalan kicked the guy. He yelped satisfyingly and flipped onto his back from the force of the kick. The room’s effector had significantly mitigated the effect of the kick, but magnified its effect. True to their prime directive, her shoe had never contacted him, a forcefield with a blunter profile was what moved him. His int activated a few pain receptors to give the impression the kick had landed.

The machines’ prime directive was “A machine must not harm a human, or through inaction allow a human to be harmed.” BDSM scenes caused particular (metaphorical) heartburn to the machines. To deny their desires would be harm, they could allow harmless pain, but physical effects would be mitigated. Usually, the subjects didn’t know they were being mitigated.

“I am not your mistress, ‘Minister’ is the correct form of address.”

“Yes, Minister.” He said meekly.

She brandished the whip, he cowered again. A thought from her fantasy struck her, ‘could you do that?’ She aimed the thought at the int. Jeaves now appeared standing on the other side of the guy on the floor, spoke, “Yes Minister, we could arrange that.” The guy didn’t hear the conversation, Jeaves was all in Servalan’s head.

“Do you know what this is?” Brandishing the whip again.

The guy looked puzzled, and hesitantly said, “A whip?”

“This is not just any whip, it’s a ‘neuronic whip’, it not only whips you, it activates your pain receptors.