The Clone

Lord Fontelboy reclined in the well upholstered chair, enjoying the post coital hormonal surge his sessions in the Latex Palace with one of the clone ‘companions’ always gave him. He studied the still restrained and latex sheathed figure on the bed and wondered what it might be like to be a creature such as this. Cloned from a suitable male at some time in the past purely to give sexual pleasure and companionship to men like himself. The majority of such clones showed little interest in anything other than providing sexual satisfaction for whoever could afford to hire one, and some, like the one currently awaiting his further pleasure, or release to be returned to its cell, were developed to provide specialist fetish pleasure.

He admired the very large penis in its black latex sheath, just the generous, flared, glans exposed, and the large scrotum. His eye travelled up the torso, enjoying the athletic musculature showing through the tight rubber. He knew the arms matched and so did the legs — he’d admired them as he secured the clone to the bed with the ankle and wrist cuffs. All clones were engineered to be perfect specimens, those that were flawed seldom left the growth tank, or if they did, the facility in which they’d been produced, unless the ‘flaw’ was intentional and designed for the needs of a specific fetish. This one was physically perfect, a veritable classical statue brought to life and clad in skintight latex. The lights reflected off the polished rubber, accentuating the gentle rhythm of the clone’s breathing as it stared at the ceiling mirror above it.

He’d used the services of many of the Palace’s clones since coming of age. Generally they were responsive enough, efficient at giving head, and at accepting a client’s fucking — even, he had to admit, at fucking him when he wanted it, and at allowing him to enjoy giving them head, always in latex and always restrained. But this one was somehow different. More responsive, more spontaneous in some way, and that had given him more than usual relief and pleasure.

Rising, he moved toward the bed. The rubber encased head turned toward him, the eyes alert, almost, he felt, eager. Briefly he wondered what the clone’s face looked like. All clones wore a latex hood and full face mask at all times when with a client. A rule, it was said, introduced to hide the identity of the clone’s donor. Since no new donors had been used for at least forty years, it seemed now to be little more than custom and practice — or perhaps the clone’s faces were unattractive, disfigured in some way. It didn’t matter, they were there purely for the sex they provided.

“I desire the use of your cock,” he said, smiling. “Again.”

The hooded head nodded carefully, the eyes following his face above the heavy muzzle gag. At it’s crotch, the shapely penis stiffened, slowly rising as it lengthened and grew thicker.

“Yes,” his lordship said, admiring the organ. “I can see why you are a triple certified unit.” He swung astride the prone figure. Reaching between his legs he opened the zip and exposed his anal opening. “I require penetration, but you are not to impregnate me until I command it.”

The clone nodded an acknowledgement and his lordship positioned himself carefully, then sank slowly onto the magnificent penis, feeling it stretch his muscles, then fill his passage as it slid deeper into his eager body.Once it was fully inside him, he paused, enjoying the sensation, and steadying his own surging desire. His gaze met the clone’s, and he was surprised to see a look that suggested a desire, not just to please, but something more. 

He pushed the thought aside and began to enjoy fucking himself on that wonderful cock. He barely noticed the clone’s subtle movements that enhanced his experience until, by chance, he once more made eye contact. The look in those eyes was of intense concentration, so he decided to add some stimulation for it. Gently maintaining his rhythm, he reached for a butt plug, then held it up for the clone to see, coated it with lubricant, then reached behind and below himself and found the clone’s opening, startled as the clone rose beneath him, and eased its legs apart to accept the plug. He pushed it home, gratified to see the clone’s eyes close tight as it went home.

When the clone opened his eyes again, the look appeared to be one of enjoyment. Certainly its movements beneath him were extremely pleasurable to him. So much so he almost forgot to order the clone to release his seed. 

Bracing himself with his hands on the nipple stimulators in the clone’s suit, he ordered, “Now! Impregnate me with your seed.”

He felt the hot fluid erupt inside him, and squeezed the stimulators, drawing a sigh from the clone. Waiting until he was sure it had finished ejaculating — always a prolonged affair with a clone — he eased himself free of the still rigid member, and closed his rear zip. Using the cleaning wipes provided he cleaned the magnificent cock, taking care to ensure he gave it the as much stimulation as possible.

When he’d finished, he moved to straddle the chest, and began to remove the muzzle. “Now you will give me head.”

“Yes, my lord.” The mouth smiled, the first time Tristram, Viscount Fontleboys had ever seen a clone show such a sign of pleasure. Then his surprise was overtaken by the skilled attention his swollen organ was getting from this soft masculine lips and the tongue. Like all clones, this one lacked any incisors in the upper and lower jaw, allowing unimpaired entry of a client’s cock into the mouth and throat.

Once again, his lordship was surprised to realise that the clone gave every appearance of enjoying giving fellatio. It certainly went beyond the usual rather mechanical actions as it gave his cock the most satisfying blowjob he could recall. Finally he could no longer hold back, and the clone swallowed everything, again giving every indication of real enjoyment.

“You are a most unusual clone.” He remarked as he removed himself and stood. “The best I have experienced here.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

Muzzle in hand, Lord Fontleboys hesitated. “Do you enjoy giving sexual pleasure?”

“Yes, my lord. It is my function. It is more pleasurable with some than others.”

“With me?”

“Better than any I have experienced, lord.”

Tristram hesitated. This clone was different. No previous clone he’d used had responded as this one had. He looked into the eyes, seeing the pleasure there. No other clone had the same look — in fact most had an almost vacant look in their eyes. A thought came to him. “Are you a clone? Or something else?”

“I am a clone, my lord. I am Four of Nineteen. The product of a new process, I have several enhancements to my responses, and am able to use my anatomy in ways earlier models could not.”

“Four of Nineteen.” Tristram hesitated again. “Do you have a name?”

“Four of Nineteen is my name, lord.”

“Is there something you would like before I muzzle you and summon the Keeper, Four of Nineteen?” Tristram smiled. “My time is up for today, but I shall book your services again.”

“Would my lord kiss me in the manner of his lover? Then I shall treasure the memory of it.”

“Yes, I will. But first I will release you.” Lord Fontleboys released the restraining cuffs and stood back to allow the clone to stand. “And now I shall kiss you, Four of Nineteen, in the manner of a lover, with my arms around you, so, and yours around me, and our mouths can then engage so …”

The kiss lingered. Tristram Fontleboys wondered for some time on his way home, and then over the days that followed, why he’d enjoyed it so much. Even more curious was why had the clone requested it, and why had it shown such emotion? This was something clones were not bred for. They were sexual playthings, nothing more.

It was a month before Tristram had time in his schedule for another visit to the Latex Palace. He’d been unable to get the clone and its responses to his attentions out of his mind. So, while busy, he’d initiated some enquiries into this class of clone. It had been enlightening, not least to learn that the programme which produced them had been terminated, and only two specimens produced by it were still in use. One male, and one female. 

To his surprise his request for the services of Four of Nineteen was met with offers of the services of other clones. Losing patience he demanded, “Is Four of Nineteen out of service?” His enquiries had revealed that the clones matured rapidly, but the counter effect was that they had a useful life as the sex toys of their prime purpose, of between five and ten years, then could look forward to perhaps ten years in some menial role out of sight. He recalled the term used for clones at the end of their useful lives. “Shut down?”

“No, my lord. Not as such, but he has not been performing as he should, and is currently in a reprogramming process. He has disappointed several clients and I have no wish to have him upset so important a client as yourself.” 

“This one is Four of Nineteen, have any of its batch siblings shown similar behaviour?” 

“No, my lord.” The Maitre paused. “Of that batch, only Four and Sixteen matured. It was an experiment and it had, ah, complications. Four has begun displaying some of the undesirable responses …”

“Undesirable responses?”

The man looked uncomfortable. “It is showing personal preferences and emotions, my lord. Completely unacceptable in a clone.”

Recalling that lingering kiss, Tristram frowned. “I’ll take a chance on it. I have reason to doubt he will disappoint me.” He considered. “Have him delivered to me in heavy restraints. Strait jacket, gagged, plugged and in chastity.” He smiled. “And leg calliper boots. Do not tell him who has reserved him. I shall wear a hood — and I shall make use of the torture dungeon facilities.”

“The torture dungeon, my lord? We normally only use that for the clones bred for it.”

“I am aware. I will not be using anything other than some of the devices for restraint.” He smiled. “I wish to test a little theory. If I am right, I shall have a proposition to put to you later.”

From his position in shadow, Tristram watched the figure struggle through the dungeon door. At his signal the escort clipped their heavy lead chains to the pillar, bowed, and left, shutting the thick soundproof door behind them. The heavily restrained figure stood, head bowed awaiting orders. Tristram studied it feeling his libido surge as he took in the tight muzzle gag imprisoning the lower half of the rubber covered face, the iron collar encircling the neck, the prisoner suspension harness over the latex strait jacket, over the latex catsuit. A heavy steel band encircled the waist, and the chains used to guide him to the dungeon went from this to the wall fastenings. His eye travelled down, noting the heavy steel chastity device covering the genitals, and then the rigid callipers holding the legs rigid.

He moved out of the shadows and approached the figure. “Four of Nineteen, a month ago you kissed a man. Do you wish to do so again?”

The head lifted and Tristram saw the brief nod.

“Do you think the man you kissed would like that?”

Chains clinked as the figure shook its head, staring at the floor.

“Then let us test that.” Tristram unbuckled the the muzzle, then removed the cover from his own mask. Slipping his arms round the heavily restrained clone, he brought his mouth into contact with the clone’s. The response was electric, and told his lordship everything about what was wrong — or right — with the clone. Gently he broke the kiss. “Well?”

“Oh my Lord.” The clone sobbed. “I have dreamed …”

“What have you dreamed, Four?” He asked gently. 

“Of being yours, my lord. Of being held by you. Used by you. Loved by you …” The clone hesitated. “Please impregnate me, Lord. Fuck me, and then torture me. Teach me not to dream. Inflict pain and abuse on me so I cease to love, to care, to want …” 

Very gently, Tristram kissed the clone again. “Very well, I am going to impregnate you, and then I intend to explore some further pleasures with you — but not here.” He unclipped the chains. “Move to the fucking bench, and bend over it.”

“Thank you, Lord.” The clone moved awkwardly to the bench Tristram indicated and positioned himself. It was a matter of seconds for Tristram to secure the figure firmly, then to remove the butt plug, drawing a small grunt from the unmuzzled clone. “Please enjoy fucking me, my lord. Punish me. Make me beg for mercy.”

“Perhaps — if it is truly what you desire, Four.” Lord Fontleboys knew he could never leave this place now without this clone. He pressed a small key fob. His agents would begin the process he’d ordered. Moving to the clone’s head, he removed his codpiece. “I wish you to prepare me with your mouth.”

The clone opened his mouth and Trstram inserted his erection, revelling in the sensations the clone’s gentle suction and the roughness of its tongue produced. It took all his considerable powers of control to prevent an immediate ejaculation. It was worth it. More than worth it in fact. After ten minutes he released his sperm. The clone’s response was enthusiastic. He sucked Tristram’s tool greedily, swallowing everything, then struggling to retain the now softening organ so he could stimulate it back into an erection. He succeeded and Tristram gently withdrew it.

“Well done.” He laughed. “You realise that you will now endure a lengthy penetration in your man pussy?”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. Punish me for causing you this discharge. Fuck me hard, Lord. Make me beg.”

Moving behind the clone, Tristram positioned himself and then rammed himself deep.

“Aaah! Ooooooh, thank you, lord …” 

“Tell me what you feel, give me a commentary on what my cock does to you as you are fucked.” He began to thrust his hips, feeling the clone’s sphincter grip his shaft. What do you feel? Do you enjoy this?”

“It feels … good …my lord … the sensations inside … stimulate … me. I … like … my … lord’s … penis … inside me …” the voice was hoarse, but he kept going, his words interspersed with grunts, moans, whimpers and many repetitions until finally Tristram rammed himself fully inside and erupted. “Oooooh … ooooh … my Lord. Please, don’t stop.” The sphincter tightened on Tristram’s shaft. “My lord’s spunk feels … sooooo good.”

Tristram felt the fob vibrate. “Good. Now I will torture you.” He pulled his cock free and cleaned it. “You will now be plugged with a serious reminder.” Picking up the dildo he’d prepared, an exact copy of his own cock, Tristram pushed it into the tender opening, then secured it in place and zipped the suit closed.

The clone gasped a thank you, then Tristram was at his head, a new muzzle in hand. Inserting the dildo gaga — another rubber replica of his cock — he secured the muzzle. “Now, Four, you are ready for your future. I have a surprise for you.” Walking to the door he opened it and beckoned the figures waiting outside. “Everything is arranged?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Take it away.”

Tristram, Lord Fontleboys, stepped out of the transport at the entrance to Fontleboys House. To his attendant he said, “Has my package been delivered?”

“Yes, my lord. It is in your bedchamber.” The attendant smiled. “It looks like a very good acquisition, my lord. And your sister thanks you for her present. She said it is perfect — and wonderfully compliant.”

“Excellent.” Tristram smiled. “See I am not disturbed for the rest of today.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Mounting the stairs Tristram opened the door to his huge bedroom silently. Four stood against the wall, a sensory deprivation hood covering his head. The monitor attached to the strait jacket indicated the clone was either sleeping or in a calm state. Quietly, his lordship moved to the dressing room and carefully dressed in a latex catsuit, drew on the shiny riding boots and then his upper body harness. Satisfied, he adjusted his codpiece and returned to the bedroom.

Gently he began to release his prize. It took a while to remove everything restraining the perfect physique, including the heavy chastity device. Eventually it stood exposed, only the hood still restraining it by simply depriving it of the ability to see or hear. He took time out to admire the beautifully defined musculature, the perfect proportions of the body and the limbs, and, of course, the large and beautiful penis, and the overlarge scrotum — both, like the perfect body, the result of the genetic engineering that went into creating the clones. The downside was the coppery sheen of the clone’s skin, and the fact that one such as this, needed to wear latex in order to nourish it’s skin for at least several hours a day.

Placing his latex clad hands on the shoulders, he turned the clone to face the corner, then began to remove the deprivation hood. With it removed, he whispered into the ear, “Close your eyes, and do not open them until I order it.”

Satisfied he was obeyed, he began to remove the muzzle and then the latex hood. With these removed, he turned the figure again, and admired the angelic face now revealed, noting the absence of hair from the face and head. Softly he said, you may now open your eyes, Four.”

The eyes flickered open, then stared around the room, before focusing on Tristram. “My lord? Is it ..? Am I …?”

“Welcome to your new home, Four. This is where we will live in future, and where you will service me from now on.” He watched the expressions change themselves across the perfect features. He smiled. “Do you want your punishment to continue?”

Four hesitated, confused. “This is my punishment?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “You are now solely for my enjoyment. Shall we begin?” Taking the clone’s hands, he drew him closer and kissed him on the mouth. “Come with me, I want to savour your cock, free of restraints, just as you pleasured mine earlier today. We have much to explore and enjoy. And when we are done, I will show you the house and your new role.”

“How does my lord wish to enjoy me? Tell me your pleasure, Lord.”

“Then get onto the bed, Four.” Tristram smiled. That gorgeous penis was already rigid, the great pink head taut and ready. “I shall begin by enjoying your cock …” His mouth engulfed the head as the clone settled. “Mmmmm …”

Four controlled his sensations, he’d not been told he was allowed to ejaculate, so he couldn’t. He’d been deprived of that pleasure for over a week and knew his glands were overfull. He hoped his new master would allow him that release, but, for the moment simply enjoyed the sheer wonder of having someone giving him this degree of pleasure. It was not something that had happened to him often — and the best time, if not the only really pleasant time — had been with this very man. Four knew he was different to other clones. That is what made it so hard. Other clones had no emotions, and no interest outside of servicing any sexual partner they happened to be with at the time. He was both emotional, and fully aware of the difference between real pleasure and the simple mechanical function of sexual gratification.

His master was changing position. “Have I satisfied, Lord?”

Tristram smiled. “Yes. And now you are going to impregnate me. Remember the first time?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Good.” Tristram positioned himself. “Ready? Do not ejaculate until I command it.” He pressed the head of Four’s cock against his sphincter. “Impale me. Ram yourself inside me as hard as you can.” The clone obeyed, thrusting his hips upward, driving the full length of his cock deep into the tight opening. “Aaaah! Mmmm.” Tristram caught his breath. “Now roll us over, so I am beneath you.”

Four gripped Tristram’s hips, then used his strength to lift him, rolling him to the side as Tristram wrapped his legs behind the clone’s thighs. Tristram had prepared for this, and landed on his back with his hips resting on a pillow. He smiled upwards. “Now Four, I will raise my arms and you will find a set of cuffs next to where I place them. Secure me, and then you will fuck me until I command you to ejaculate.”

Four looked, saw the heavy cuffs and the chains to the bedposts. “Yes, Lord.” He smiled. “To reach them, Lord, I must lay over you.”

Tristram smiled. “I know. And our mouths will meet. We will kiss, and then you will fuck me.”

Four lay gently over his master, carefully he fastened first one and then the other cuff to the outstretched arms. Their mouths met, and they lay joined at mouth and crotch. For several minutes before Tristram broke the kiss.

“Now, Four. Tell me what you experience as you fuck me. Tell me what you feel as that perfect cock works my hole. I want to be sure you have as much pleasure as I do …”

“Yes, Lord.” Four repositioned himself carefully, clones were rarely allowed this action. In fact he’d only had this pleasure twice before, once with a trainer, and once with his lordship. On both occasions he’d been restrained, and his ‘partners’ had controlled the entire experience. Now he was on top and ordered to enjoy it …

Tristram endured twenty minutes of it while Four describe what he felt with each thrust and withdrawal, how his glands wanted to discharge, how sensitised his cock head was becoming and how much he liked servicing his master this way. Eventually Tristram could hold out no longer. His own cock had filled his codpiece with his own issue, and he sensed that Four was tiring.

“Ejaculate, Four. Fill me …” His eyes widened as he felt the discharge inside him. “Ooooh! Oh yes. Yes, Four, fill me with your spunk …” When the pulsing stopped, he sighed. “Kiss me, Four.” He sighed again as the clone lowered himself for the kiss. “Thank you, Four. I have not had so good a fucking since school and I was the dormitory fuck.” Their mouths met, and locked.

Several hours later Tristram led the now latex clad Four on a tour of Fontleboys House, a huge rambling partly baroque and partly older chateau. He admired the latex figure beside him afresh, the thin latex the only garment covering the magnificent figure, and the gorgeous penis perfectly displayed in it’s sheath. At his order Four was unhooded, and evidently enjoyed the experience.

“This is our home, Four. You will be my companion at all times when I am here, when I am not you will take care of our rooms and the equipment in them.” He opened a door. “Do you swim?”

“Yes, Lord. It is essential for body tone.”

“Good, then we will swim together. Here is the pool.” He smiled. “I will provide you with a suitable garment in which to swim — one that properly shows you off.” Taking the clone’s hand, he turned him, and kissed him on the mouth. “You are no longer property, Four. You are now my companion and lover. Is that what you dreamed?”

The clone hesitated. “Clones are not people, Lord. The law is clear. We have no existence except as what our owners demand. We are human in form and in our sex, but have no status as humans. We are classed as Artificial Life Forms, AFFs. If you desire me as a companion and lover, Lord, then that is what I am. Did I dream of it? Of something like, Lord. I dream of being a person, like you, like the others in this house.” He paused. “But if all you desire is a companion and lover, then I am happy to be that for as long as you desire me to be.”

For a moment Tristram hesitated, trying to read the clone’s expression. He knew the law, had studied it carefully before engaging in this exercise. He’d also engaged a team of legal experts and tasked them with finding a means to address the problem. There were a number of hurdles to overcome, but he would do so. 

“To me you are a person. We will give you a name, a proper name, and while I can’t change the law for all clones, I can and will obtain a change of status for this clone.” He smiled. “My companion and lover shall have his desire — he will be a person, recognised in law.” He kissed the suddenly tear streaked cheek. “And now let us enjoy some supper, and then see what else my lover enjoys sexually …