Chapter Text
Sgt. Raesch Wainright stepped in from the ink. One of the heirs of Cadia itself, she never felt at home on Sahar. A backwater world of middling importance. The chemical plants across the equatorial canyons produced chemfuels necessary for flamethrowers and other weapons used throughout the Imperium.
And as a secondary byproduct, all the synthetic dyes that were used to adorn the highborn throughout the empire. Raesch really hoped she was assigned here to guard ammunition production, and not the manufacture of some noble crimson.
The ink had long ago stained the very rain, each drop greased with chemical iridescence Raech's hair had bleached within the first few months of her posting, and was now shifting through the shimmering colors of an oil spill.
Those who lived here so long had their hair soaked and dyed so thoroughly that it all became a greasy chemical brown. Raesch hoped that she could escape to a new posting before that happened. Here she was a token, an honor guard. Respected more for the purple eyes of her heritage than any of her accomplishments.
More parade piece than warrior. Outside of a few orc engagements and riots, there was no glory, no injury, nothing to calm her restless spirit. Her Cadian discipline tested to its limits.
All five feet of her walked into the brothel, shaking the latest ink from her tied back hair. Frowning as she looked through the establishment. She had dressed light, leaving her armor behind at the barracks, wearing only the underlayers when off duty.
She slapped a jingling of local currencies down on the counter. "One of your best boys for the night."
The man behind the counter grunted. "The best boys are already booked." And then gave a chuckle. "As are the mid boys. And the poor boys." Acting like this was a game.
"Then why are you still open?"
Raesch demanded. The pimp's ink chem stained lips twitched in response.
"We aren't entirely booked. The Brute remains."
"The Brute?" Raech asked. There was potential there, but worry as well.
"He's handsome, if you like a touch of chrome. Behind on debts, couldn't pay his old fines. Found his brain fixed up to be good and proper. Servitorised."
The pimp shrugged. "He's better than he used to be."
A low moment. But she had an itch that needed scratching before she lashed out and did the regrettable. "I'll take him."
Her coin accepted. She went to the back. She hadn't fucked a servitor before. Had many of the guard? Such depravity was usually reserved for the highborn.
The backroom was an attempt at elegance. An old bed, covered in a plastic sheet. Colorful drapes hanging along the wall. None of them in any way undyed. Unblemished. The best Sahar could do, or at least, the best this pit-slum could do.
The Beast entered to greet her. Taller than Raesch by over two feet. An impressive height for something once human. His face covered in a steel mask, resembling a skull, eternally smiling in the way bones don't. Glowing red eyes behind it, staring down at Raesch.
The slow clicking of spools. Like a record being made in film.
He had one arm removed at the shoulder, a utility mount limb left behind. He was no pleasure servitor, that much was clear. The Beast had been repurposed for general labor at best. Raesch wasn't sure how the brothel got hold of him. But she wasn't going to ask.
The Beast had scraps of clothing still, left out to dye in the planet's rains. Pulled in from undersky before they were fully browned and oversaturated. Beneath there was a muscular form, what had once been a beast of a man. He might have once been abhuman. Though he lacked the full stature of an ogryn.
His neck had a metal box inside of it, glazed with folds of brass. A speaker, a rote and hazy mechanical voice came out of it.
"We are here to please. Submit your demands for processing."
Processing?
"I'm no weak little girl. Throw me against something, and show me the sort of fucking I've been missing." Raech replied back, starting to remove her under-uniform.
The buttons were half done before the servitor closed the distance, that large mechano-arm wrapped around her back, bracing Raesch against it. As her other arm, still largely human grabbed at her chest, ripping buttons free, tearing cloth. Exposing her compact form.
Raesch thrilled at the impulsiveness of it, the violent suggestion, even as she dreaded the cost to her stipend. "Ugh. Fine." She replied, twisting out of her pants as best as she could.
Making enough progress that they weren't torn completely. Tugged down to her ankles and then discarded. There was a vigor here that Raesch had missed, that her girlfriend had been and the Sahari boys had been unable to provide her.
This... at least had an intention to it. Even if such intention had been drilled into the Beast's skull with metal. Could a servitor still feel? Raech looked at that metal-skull face. Unresponsive, stuck in that rictus smile.
"Hey Chromey." Raesch said, impulsively naming the beast. "Treat me right."
What human flesh Chromey had left pushed between her legs, a hand slapping across Raesch's pussy a few times, leaving a stinging ache across her lips, before two fingers pushed slowly inside, displacing a loving squelch of pleasurable squish, of soft yielding labia, and arousal dripping out across those fingertips.
Those fingers sought with mechanical precision, driving inside her, mining pleasure and extracting it, and the ever-increasing fluids from Raesch's flesh.
That nearly mechanical schlict-shlat echoing through the room.
Raesch moaned out, clinging to the mechanical arm for support. It wasn't bad. If Chromey kept it up, she could probably get off. Get what she paid for. Chromey pulled his hand back and away, reaching for the belts across his abdomen, undoing them one at a time. Simple belts, a single push to unhook.
His pants dropped to the ground, revealing what lay beneath. There was a human... or at least abhuman in size cock there between his legs, but the organ was not unaltered. Bits of metal were poking out from beneath the surface. An artificial spine ran through the flesh, to make it eternally hardened, always capable.
A series of tubes came out near the base, feeding into tanks hidden away along the torso, along the thigh. Little servomotors were buried around the base, running through it. Wires were barely hidden beneath the skin. There was a mechanical whirring, before his cock started to inflate further.
Blood, or some other fluid was pumped into that sack of flesh.
Raesch wasn't sure if it was arousal or nausea she felt in her stomach. "Hey Chromey... let's go a little slow." Raesch asked, considering backing out entirely.
"Safe word not recognized, fulfilling original demands." The skeletal face responded.
"Safe word! We never set a safe word Chromie!" Raesch growled back, punching the beast once in the chest. It was a blow strong enough to stun most men. However, behind so much flesh was reinforced steel, what muscle Chromie had wasn't enough to cushion Raesch's knuckles entirely.
Raesch tried to bury her scream.
"Correct. No safe word has been set. No safe word is recognized. Fulfilling original demands." That mechanical arm, intended to carry so much cargo, or a heavy drill bit had only a simple grasping appendage now, grabbing Raesch by the knee and lifting her up off the ground, dangling her midair.
Raesch felt the blood rushing to her head. She reached out, squirming as much as her diminutive frame would allow, trying to grab onto anything, finally reaching the wall, and lacking a good grip, pressing her hand against it, raising herself up slightly.
Despite her best efforts she was a doll before the automaton, even with all her drilled strength.
Outside the manhandling, he was surprisingly gentle. He pushed that inflated cock forward, pressing it against Raesch's sodden labia slowly. He was warm, but not quite warm enough. His body chilled below that of expected life, feeling for the moment more toy than man.
Which he was.
He pushed forward finally, spreading Raesch out around him, giving her that ache that she had come to adore, that stretch as her body yielded, taking his thickness slowly inside. That slow familiar auditory friction of flesh against flesh, even when reinforced by steel spines. Despite the uncertainty of Raesch's position, his augmented cock still felt good. The little metal implants under flesh only adding to the pleasing texture.
A bit of roughness to it all as he pushed himself inside. Getting as much cockflesh inside Raesch as he could, displacing more of her arousal as he thrusted. Until finally that mushroom tip pressed a little too deep. Pain ringing through Raesch as Chromy thudded against her cervix. There were still a few inches of cock left to go.
To push that bulge deeper up her abdomen.
"Fuck... what the!" Raesch growled, flailing one arm out, trying to grab the servitor. Knowing better than to punch Chromy once more, craving leverage and stability.
In response, or by some hidden directive of machine spirit, Chromy reached out with his still fleshed arm, grabbing Raesch by the neck, raising her up, pressing her back against the grimy wall.
It was a little better. Raesch wasn't dangling anymore. Just... choking. A little bit. Enough that she could endure for now. Held and pinned, pressed against the wall, there was nothing she could do to stop the Servitor. Chromy started to work his hips, driving that cock in and out of Raesch with slow slaps of engorged flesh. The actual movements were lovely, exquisite even. She understood now the appeal of it to all those highborn ladies.
The mechanical precision of stroke. That strength so seldom found in lesser men. There was a perfection to his movements, wild humanity tamed by so much steel, brought towards a specific willful point. Broken to please her.
To make her shudder. Even that repeated spike of pain as that cock bashed against her womb was becoming tolerable. A repeated ache running through her. Reminding her of the glory of life still lived. Of surviving and pleasure.
It didn't take much of this rough treatment, of getting fucked against the wall, of getting choked until she was lightheaded for Raesch to cry out in her first orgasm. To splatter her fluids across his flesh and steel. She expected him to cum as well. To act like a man.
"Stage 1 complete. Moving on from foreplay." Chromey stated, the haunting echo of metal staring at her. Smiling. Uncaring.
"Foreplay! You just finished fucking me against a wall!" Raesch growled back, reaching a hand up to cling to him, to hold tight to his shoulder.
"Stage 2 commencing." Was his response, as with a whirring of mechanical function, Raesch felt a sudden vibration. Those servomotors through his pelvis started to tremble, that vibration running through his body, through so many vertebrae of that cock still lodged inside of her.
She was still coming down from her last orgasm, but he just kept going, pushing that abominable cock inside of her. Forcing a little deeper, making her stretch to accommodate. Until finally, with a louder set of smacks than before, his pelvis started to crash repeatedly against her clit. That vibration now ringing inside and out.
There was no rest. There was no recovery from sensation. It was constant. The pain. The pleasure. The contact and the mechanical whirring. The whirring of the recording film. With the motors running now, he was actually getting heated, first to something comfortable. To something human, and then something beyond.
Like fucking through a fever. Or an inferno. The warmth, oddly enthralling, like a bath far too warm after a long day of drills. Raesch's toes curled as she struggled to think. As she squirmed upon him.
As she finally wondered about that film.
And crashed through another orgasm. And then one more after it. Her body shaking fully now. Drool running down her face. Across her chest. Spit missing with the ink and running so much colored texture down her body.
"Stage 3. Ejaculation."
Another whir of motors, and then finally some sort of piston, deep inside of him, working a pump, draining fluid from internal reservoirs. It... wasn't cum. At least it didn't feel much like it. A thick liquid, poured out in vast quantities, surging into her, flooding her. Drooling and splashing down her thighs. That off-white mixing with her clear arousal, and every shade of rainbow rain, dripping down to stain the floor beneath. Warmed from the motors and the very act of fucking, it churned inside her. Sticky and filling.
It was very nearly satisfying.
Raesch looked back at him, recovering her breath as he eased the grip on her neck.
"Copulation complete. Recording transmitted."
Chromey tilted his head in a sudden, inhuman jerk. Overlaid programming making itself manifest.
"Record is made and stored in redundant backup systems. Sergeant Raesch Wainright. See the front desk to find out about our generous blackmail repayment plans."
Fuck.