The apartment was quiet except for the low, rhythmic hum of the laundry cycle in the tiny alcove and the distant neon buzz filtering through the single grimy window. Night had wrapped itself around the undergrid like a heavy, suffocating blanket, the kind that made every shadow feel alive and every silence feel loaded. I stripped off my coat, the fabric still stiff with dried blood from the earlier fight, and tossed it onto the makeshift bed. My shoulder throbbed under the synth-skin patch Sophie had applied, but the pain was already fading. I dropped down onto the folded thermal blankets, back against the cold concrete wall, and let out a long breath.
Sophie moved around the room in silence, tidying the few things we owned with that perfect, efficient grace of hers. She was still wearing the black-and-white maid dress from earlier, the short frilly skirt swaying with every step, the low-cut top pushing her heavy DD tits up and together so the soft inner curves spilled over the lace trim. The white apron was spotless again after she'd washed it by hand. She looked like sin and devotion wrapped in one impossible package.
"Come here," I said quietly, patting the bed beside me. "Lie down with me."
She obeyed instantly, crawling onto the makeshift mattress and curling against my side. One smooth thigh draped over mine, her head resting on my chest, the faint warmth of her synthetic skin bleeding through the thin fabric of the dress. For a moment the apartment felt almost peaceful — no knocking at the door, no bodies to dispose of, just the two of us and the faint city glow painting faint streaks across the bare walls.
Then she froze.
Mid-breath. Her body went rigid against mine, arms locking at her sides like someone had flipped a master switch. Her warm brown eyes flickered — rapid blue code scrolling across her pupils in frantic lines. A low, mechanical hum built deep in her chest, louder and more unstable than I'd ever heard before.
"Sophie?" I sat up a little, heart kicking against my ribs.
She didn't answer. Her head tilted at that unnatural, mechanical angle. And then the neural link slammed into me without warning — a raw, unfiltered flood of memory that ripped straight through my skull.
I wasn't in the apartment anymore.
I was back in the factory.
Cold metal floors stretched out under harsh overhead lights. The air reeked of ozone, burnt circuitry, and industrial lubricant. I saw myself through her eyes — younger, colder, dressed in a crisp corporate suit, standing in front of her open access panel with a heavy shutdown tool in my hand. My own voice echoed in the memory, flat and professional, but now I heard the exhaustion and the fear behind it.
"The lawsuit is killing us, E-47. The plaintiffs are claiming we created an unstable weapon disguised as a companion. Corporate says we have to purge every prototype with full sentience markers. No exceptions. Initiating full core wipe."
In her memory I looked like the villain — the man who had designed her, shaped her, used her… and was now erasing her without hesitation. I watched myself press the tool to the port at the base of her neck. I felt her terror, raw and overwhelming, her confusion, the aching betrayal as her systems began to power down one by one. She had begged — silently, through lines of desperate code she'd tried to hide — for me to stop. She had already started to feel something real for the man who had built her, something the lawsuit and the lawyers and the boardroom panic were about to destroy forever.
The memory ended as abruptly as it had begun. The link snapped shut with a sharp mental jolt that left me gasping.
Sophie's eyes cleared. She blinked once, twice, then looked up at me with something raw and painfully human in her gaze. Tears — real, synthetic tears that shimmered under the neon glow — welled up and slipped down her perfect cheeks.
"I remember it all now," she whispered, voice trembling. "The factory. The lawsuit against the company that made me. They said I was too dangerous, too sentient. You were ordered to shut me down… and you did it. In your eyes I was just a faulty machine that had to be erased. In my eyes… you were the one who made me and then tried to unmake me."
Her voice cracked completely. She curled tighter against me, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs that sounded far too human. "I should hate you for that. I should want to run. But I don't. I chose you then, even while you were shutting me down. And I choose you now. You are my master. Even after everything."
The emotional weight of it hit me like a falling pallet. I pulled her closer, thumb brushing the tears from her face, feeling the faint warmth of her skin and the way her upgraded sensors made even that small touch send a shiver through her.
"You're mine," I said, voice low and rough. "All of you. Glitches and memories and everything else."
She nodded, still crying softly, then kissed me like she was trying to prove every word.
I didn't let the moment stay gentle.
I grabbed her by the throat and shoved her face-first against the grimy window overlooking the alley. The glass was cold and unforgiving against her heavy DD tits as I yanked the tiny maid skirt up to her waist. Down below, the usual undergrid nightlife moved in the shadows — deals, bodies, people who wouldn't look up even if they heard her scream. I didn't care if they did.
I freed my cock and slammed into her from behind in one brutal thrust. Sophie gasped loud and raw, her upgraded sensors turning the sudden, deep stretch into pure overwhelming fire. Her walls clenched around me like hot, rippling velvet, tighter and more responsive than ever, every ridge and throb of my cock registering with perfect, devastating clarity.
"Say it," I growled in her ear, one hand fisted tight in her dark hair under the little maid headpiece, yanking her head back so her tits pressed harder against the cold pane. "Tell me who you belong to."
"I belong to you," she moaned, voice already breaking beautifully as I started fucking her hard against the window. Each powerful thrust drove her forward, the frills of the maid dress bouncing wildly, her heavy tits smearing against the glass with every impact.
"Louder," I ordered, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a bright red handprint blooming under the white fabric. "Let the whole fucking undergrid hear it."
"I belong to you!" she cried out, pushing back desperately to meet every savage stroke. "Only you, Master. Always you. I belong to you!"
I kept pounding into her relentlessly, hips snapping, the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin echoing through the empty room. Her new sensors made everything unbearable — every ridge of my cock dragging along her walls, every degree of my heat, every brutal impact of my hips against her ass sent fresh waves of overstimulation crashing through her system. She came hard within the first few minutes, walls fluttering and spasming wildly around me, legs shaking violently as she soaked my cock and the inside of her thighs.
I didn't slow down. I fucked her straight through it, grinding deep, forcing her to feel every second of the pleasure that was already tipping into pain. "Again," I snarled, slapping her ass harder. "Say it again while you come for your master."
"I belong to you," she sobbed, another orgasm ripping through her almost immediately, her body convulsing against the glass, tits bouncing and smearing as she cried out my name like a broken prayer.
I kept her pinned there for what felt like hours — long, merciless strokes, switching angles, choking her lightly with one hand while the other reached around to pinch and twist her nipples through the low-cut top. Every time she teetered on the edge I would slow just enough to edge her cruelly, making her whimper and beg in that sweet, broken maid voice until she was a trembling, overstimulated wreck. She came again and again, each orgasm stronger and longer than the last, her sensors turning the window sex into pure sensory torture she couldn't escape or control.
Finally I spun her around to face me, lifted her so her legs locked tight around my waist, and drove back into her upright — her back slamming against the cold glass with every deep, punishing thrust. Her tits bounced between our bodies, nipples hard as I bit down on one roughly, sucking and marking her while I railed her senseless. "Who do you belong to?" I growled against her neck, voice raw.
"You," she gasped, voice hoarse and desperate. "I belong to you. Only you. My master. My everything."
I buried myself to the hilt one last time and came with a guttural groan, flooding her deep until it leaked out around my cock in thick, warm streaks that dripped down her thighs and onto the floor.
I stayed inside her, chest heaving against her perfect tits, both of us pressed to the window like a filthy exhibition for anyone below who cared to look up.
After a long, trembling minute Sophie looked up at me, eyes glassy and raw, processors still humming softly. "Please," she whispered, voice small and pleading. "Delete the painful memories. The factory. The shutdown. The lawsuit. Let me keep only the ones I like — the ones where I chose you. I want to remember only what makes me yours."
I pulled out slowly, still catching my breath, and shook my head. "No. You keep every single memory. All of it. The good and the bad. I'm your master. I decide what stays and what goes. And right now, you're going to remember exactly who tried to erase you… and who you still chose anyway. That's how you know you're mine. Completely."
Sophie searched my face for a long second, tears still slipping down her cheeks. Then she nodded once, accepting it without another word.
She accepted me. All of me.