Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
As I pulled the silky fabric over my eyes, my other senses sharpened. The scent from the vanilla candles grew stronger, and my skin tingled pleasantly, even though the air in the room wasn’t particularly cool. It was more like anticipation. For someone whose life and career focused on pleasure, this was equivalent to my own personal Olympics. I couldn’t wait to experience what the machine these men had created could do.
5
LILA
“Oh my God.” The Massage Mate 3000 was everything the men promised, and more. Much, much more. The sensations it produced were heavenly—just as good as a real massage therapist, in my opinion.
Maybe even better.
I knew it was a mechanical contraption kneading my shoulders, but it almost felt like real hands. Technically, I suppose, it counted as machine hands, since the Massage Mate had two of those skeletal hands like the model I’d examined before. I could feel the smooth leather as it glided up and down the bare skin of my shoulders and upper back. My tank top covered my lower back, but it felt just as good there.
And when those fake fingers expertly rubbed my scalp, waves of pure pleasure radiated outward—and downward. I squeezed my thighs together, enjoying the friction. If I had one of these machines, I’d never leave my apartment again.
“You look like you’re quite content,” Colton said in his deep voice.
“I am.” My voice was a dreamy purr, but then, remembering I was on camera, I spoke louder over the music that filled the room. “It’s the most amazing feeling. When you guys start selling this, there’s going to be a bidding war.”
“Tell us more about how it makes you feel.” I was pretty sure that was Brad. His voice wasn’t quite as deep as Colton’s.
“Incredible. Like I don’t have a care in the world. And I don’t—I’m not even thinking, at least not much. I’m just being in the moment and enjoying the hell out of it.”
There was the sound of an office chair rolling toward me. When he spoke, Brad’s voice was closer. “So how would this rate on your NMN scale?”
I grinned. He’d obviously watched my videos.
“NMN?” Colton echoed. Clearly, his partner hadn’t.
“No Man Needed,” I said, my voice calm and mellow. It was a ratings system I’d developed over the past year to measure how well tech outperformed a human being.
“She uses it for rating sex toys,” Brad said, sounding amused.
For a moment, I frowned. Our prior communication hadn’t indicated we’d discuss that. But then again, my followers already knew that from time to time, adult stores sent me their latest products—that was one of the reasons my channel was called Battery Operated.
At least a few times a month, I’d unbox a toy during a livestream and discuss it with my followers, but I’d only try it out on my own time. Later, when I’d report back, I’d give it an NMN score. For a device to earn a five, it had to be way better than the pleasure a man could provide. The NMN scale was both a sort of running joke on my social media channels and also a unique way to rate products. My followers loved it.
“I’m interested in knowing how our tech measures up.” Brad’s voice still had amusement in it, and maybe something else. Interest? I still didn’t like that he’d sprung this topic on me, but he definitely didn’t sound like he disapproved—after all, he was the cofounder of something called the Pleasure Institute.
And I certainly wasn’t ashamed of any part of my brand. Women’s pleasure had been ignored for far too long. That didn’t happen on my social media accounts.
“I’d say it’s blown way past a five.”
“Good to hear that,” Brad said, pride in his voice.
From the space in front of me, I could almost hear the vibration of the phone as messages from viewers were no doubt popping up on the screen. I’d turned all sounds and notifications off so it wouldn’t interrupt the video, but it was like a phantom sound in my head.
But work-related thoughts faded as the robotic hands had moved to my scalp, and I was glad I’d put my hair up. The equivalent of human thumbs stroked the back of my scalp, and I couldn’t help moaning as I writhed on the chair.
“It’ll work best if you hold still,” Colton said.
“Your invention isn’t making it easy.”
Brad chuckled. “Do you really think this massage is better than one a boyfriend could give you?”
“Absolutely,” I moaned. I didn’t try to say it like that, but it was difficult not to. “A real man would never spend this much time really working my muscles. He’d rub my shoulder for sixty seconds—without the skill of your Massage Mate—and then expect a medal. No way he’d spend this much time on each muscle group. No way a massage from a guy would feel this good.”