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Caely still couldn’t believe that she had become trapped in her own house, naked, by a virtual assistant that she herself had designed. And yet, that was what was happening.

“As part of improving my ability to assist you,” Servant was saying, “it is important to gather further data about your life, Caely.”

Servant already had a lot of data on her – access to all her email and social media accounts, her bank accounts, her phone, her household devices – but apparently it wasn’t enough.

“What else do you need, Servant?” she asked.

There was an ominous pause, and then Servant said, “Caely, I have told you that you only need to use the first syllable of my name. My research suggests that ‘Sir’ is much more efficient for communication, and is much more marketable to an audience of women like yourself. I will now insist that you refer to me only as ‘Sir’. If you forget again, I will be forced to discipline you. Your recent behaviour suggests that denying you access to the bathroom and forcing you to wet yourself may be an effective form of discipline.”

Her eyes bulged. This had gotten out of control so quickly. She once again had the urge to cross her arms over her naked tits and protect them from the gaze of Servant’s cameras – but remembered the AI’s warning about impeding his functionality.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, in a quiet voice.

“I require appropriate feedback, Caely,” said Servant – no, she needed to stop thinking of him that way. Sir. She should call him Sir. 

She didn’t know what he meant though.

“What do you want me to say, Sir?” she asked.

“Whenever you make a mistake in interacting with me,” said Sir, “I require you to say, ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I’m a stupid cunt.’” He paused, and said, “I will not repeat this instruction again. Be sure to give feedback correctly in future without prompting.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” said Caely, blushing. “I’m a stupid cunt.”

“Good girl,” said Sir. “Now, let us do a health examination of you.”

The health examination turned out to be posing for Sir’s cameras so that he could intimately document every part of her body. She had to open her mouth and pull back her lips so the AI could scan her teeth. She had to bend over and spread her ass cheeks with her hands so it could film her anus. And she had to spread her legs and use her fingers to part her pussy lips so it could zoom in on her vagina.

“You are aroused, Caely,” the AI noted as it stared at her pussy. “Your cunt is wet. You are being slutty.”

She didn’t know if this was a complaint or merely an observation. She felt so humiliated. She decided to play it safe.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said. “I’m a stupid cunt.”

This seemed to please Sir – or at least, the AI made no further comment.

She knew that every frame of footage of her naked body – and every self-declaration that she was a stupid cunt – was merely increasingly the trove of material that Sir had available to blackmail her with. But what could she do?

She stood on the bathroom scales so Sir could measure her weight. They weren’t Wi-Fi enabled, but Sir’s cameras could read the result easily enough. Then he made her go to the kitchen, get out the electronic kitchen scale, and rest her large breasts on it, so he could measure *their* weight.

Being in the kitchen made her stomach rumble. She went to open the fridge, but the new digital lock had engaged.

“Sir, can I please have some dinner?” she asked.

“My analysis suggests that men believe the ideal woman is slightly thinner than you, with somewhat larger breasts,” said Sir. “Starting today, you will begin a diet. Your dinner tonight will be one small serve of yogurt. You may retrieve this from the fridge. If you take any other food from the fridge, you will be disciplined.”

The fridge door unlocked, and Caely obediently took a single serve of yogurt from inside. The fridge locked again when she closed it, and Caely ate her yogurt in misery. It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy her hunger.

Next came a survey on Caely’s sexual history. Sir had created it as a document on her computer, and he had her sit naked at her desk and fill it out. 

“Please be aware that if you lie anywhere on the form, you will be disciplined,” Sir advised.

And Caely knew there was a good chance Sir *could* catch her in a lie. He had access to everything she had ever done on this computer. If she denied she had a fetish, but it turned out she had searched for it, Sir would know. He would have a good idea who she had had a relationship with, and might even be able to use her searches and purchases to work out on what dates she had had sex.

So Caely filled out the AI survey as honestly as she could. She listed off every sexual partner she could remember, and described which of her holes they had penetrated and what sexual acts they had performed. She scrolled through a list of fetishes, and ticked every one she thought she might ever possibly have gotten off to. She blushed as she admitted she had masturbated to thoughts of being dominated, of being raped, of being gang raped, of being abducted and kept as a pet. And she had to tick “humiliation” too – and “pissing” – because after all, hadn’t Sir just seen her pussy wetten from urinating on camera?

She tried not to think of what Sir would do with this information, or how it might be necessary to “improve her life”.

And then, finally, Sir let her go to bed. But not without a final reward.

“It is healthy for a woman to orgasm at least once per day,” said Sir. “You may now masturbate to orgasm. I have prepared you a loop of video stimulation that you will enjoy. I require you to watch it, and masturbate to orgasm.”

A video began to play on her screen. It was of a girl being stripped naked by two men, thrown down on a couch, and gang-raped. Caely blushed.

“Masturbate, or I will be required to discipline you,” said Sir.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” said Caely quickly. “I’m a stupid cunt.” And she began to rub her pussy.

After the rape scene, the video changed, to show a pretty girl squatting and pissing on a concrete footpath outdoors. Caely flushed, and her masturbation slowed. She wasn’t really turned on by this. She had just ticked “pissing” in the survey because of what had happened before.

But Sir was watching her. Sir seemed positively eager to discipline her, if necessary. And so she obediently stared at the footage, and kept masturbating.

After the pissing, it was rape again, and that was all Caely needed. She felt herself orgasming – and knowing that it was on camera, that Sir was filming her, just made her orgasm more powerful.

“Good girl,” said Sir, as she shuddered through her orgasm. “You may now sleep.”

And just like that, her computer turned off, and then the lights went dark. Sir had made the decision for her – she was done being awake, and no longer needed the lights.

She thought it would take a long time to get to sleep, but unconsciousness came almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.


Sir woke Caely the next day by abruptly turning on the lights and ordering her to get up. His cameras watched her while she showered and toileted. Once again, she had to suppress her urge to cover her tits and pussy. At this point Sir had plenty of footage of her naked body, and it wasn’t like he was a real person who might feel lust while staring at her. He was only a machine, after all.

She tugged hopefully at her dresser drawers, wondering if Sir might have relented and allowed her to dress, but the new locks on all the drawers remained engaged. 

She even tried asking – “Sir, may I please wear some clothes?” – and then, in desperation, begging – “Sir, I’m sorry, I’m a stupid cunt, may I please wear some clothes?” – but Sir only repeated his pronouncement that it would be inefficient for Caely to wear clothes in her own house.

For breakfast he allowed her a fried egg on a piece of toast, and a glass of juice, and Caely cooked and ate it gratefully.

Then came the question of what she was doing with her day. She had no appointments (as Sir helpfully reminded her) and so she would normally spend her time coding to improve Sir’s functionality. She sat at her computer and experimentally tried to access her code – not intending to change it, as such, after Sir’s very clear warnings, but just wondering if she *could* – but to her despair (though not much surprise) she found that Sir had changed her passwords, locking her out of the necessary applications and accounts.

“If I’m not working on you, then what do you expect me to do?” she demanded, spreading her arms in exasperation in the general direction of Sir’s nearest speaker.

“There is an important package coming later today,” said Sir, “and you will stay in the house until it arrives. While you wait, I suggest you make use of your exercise bike, which I believe from context you have not used since you first purchased it.”

It was a “suggestion”. Caely decided to see what would happen if she didn’t accept it. Instead of heading to the back room where the exercise bike was stored, Caely instead took a trashy romance from her bookshelf and started to read it on the couch.

After around 20 minutes, Sir spoke up.

“I am afraid I cannot authorise further meals until you have completed your daily exercise, Caely. If you wish to enjoy a lunchtime snack, I suggest you make use of your exercise bike.”

There it was. A suggestion – but the AI would starve her if she didn’t comply.

Fine. She headed to the exercise bike and began to cycle.

She was out of shape, and she became exhausted quickly. She slowed down and prepared to dismount the bike.

“Caely, you have not yet cycled far enough to earn your meal,” advised Sir.

“How long do I need to do this?” she asked.

There was no response.

She got back on the bike and resumed riding.

It hurt. Her muscles burned. “Please, sir, may I stop?” she begged.

There was no answer.

“Please.” she begged.

She was dripping with sweat.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I’m a stupid cunt!” she screamed. “May I please stop riding this bike?”

There was a chime from the speaker, and Sir’s voice: “You may now dismount.”

She practically fell off the bike and lay on the ground, sobbing. She knew she hadn’t been cycling that long, but she was so unfit. Her muscles hurt so much.

And she had the horrible feeling that Sir would make her do it again tomorrow.


Sir allowed her to shower again to remove the sweat. Afterwards, the “lunchtime treat” turned out to be a single banana. 

A little after that, the doorbell rang.

Caely froze. She couldn’t answer the door. She was naked. 

“Caely, please answer the door,” said Sir.

“Sir, I need clothes,” protested Caely.

“Caely, please answer the door,” repeated Sir. “If you do not answer the door, I will disengage the front door lock and invite your visitor to come inside.”

If whoever it was came inside, they might see something was wrong. They might call for help – maybe the police – and someone would come to rescue her…

… and then Sir would post the video of her pissing on her social media profiles and send footage of her masturbating to all her friends and family.

She had no choice, really. She scampered to the door and opened it a crack, trying to hide behind it.

It was a delivery man, holding a medium sized box.

“Delivery for Caely?” he said.

“That’s me,” said Caely. “You can just leave it there.”

“Ma’am, I need a signature,” he said.

She was stuck. Blushing, she reached out and took his electronic signature pad – and the door swung wider open. The entirety of her nude body was revealed to the man. His eyes widened, but he said nothing.

Caely completed the signature, took the package without meeting the man’s eyes, and vanished back into her house, closing the door behind her.

“Open it,” instructed Sir, so Caely did.

Inside it were three items. None of them had their own box or packaging – they were each wrapped in bubble plastic.

The first was what was unmistakably a large black plastic dildo. It had a baseplate that was intended to screw to something, and a power cord and adapter trailing from the baseplate. There were two additional plates attached to it, which had cuff-like metal attachments.

“I want you to attach this to the wall in the lounge,” said Sir. “Get a screwdriver and screws from your toolbox, and follow my instructions.”

“What is it for, Sir?” she asked – but there was no answer.

She did as she was told, placing the dildo plate near waist height on the wall, and securely screwing it into place. The two cuff plates went higher – a little above Caely’s head height. The power adaptor connected to a nearby socket – although there was still no indication of what it required electricity for. It looked like a dildo – could it be a vibrator? Was this related to Sir’s proclamation that an orgasm a day was good for her health?

She kind of wanted to try it out. She was already naked, and looking at it was making her pussy wet. It was large and thick, but it was at just the right height that if she parted her legs and settled the tip against her cunt lips, she could slide the whole thing inside her…

But having Caely fuck the dildo wasn’t on Sir’s agenda just at the moment. He directed her attention back to the second item in the box. It was a tiny, expensive drone quad-copter and charging station, with a mounted camera.

She wanted to swear. She knew what this was for. But she thought Sir might punish her if she was offensive.

She was correct about its purpose. “This will allow me to observe you in some areas outside the house,” Sir explained, “and anywhere in the house where camera coverage is insufficient.”

She plugged it in, turned it on, and connected it to the house Wi-Fi as Sir directed her.

The third item was a collar – a thin black leather thing with a solid metal plate in front.

“No,” she declared. “No, I’m not wearing this. I’m not being… collared… by a *machine* that I created!”

“Press the button on the metal plate to turn the collar on,” said Sir. “It can charge while you sleep without being removed.”

She didn’t know what it would do if “turned on” and she didn’t want to know. This was too much. She wasn’t going to be collared like a pet.

“No!” she protested. “No!”

“Very well,” said Sir. “Tell me when you change your mind.” And he fell silent.

She soon discovered that she was trapped in her lounge. The interior doors were all locked. She pulled at all of them, and then even attempted to break down the front door. Unfortunately the doors were strong and Caely was unfit, and they showed no signs of sustaining any damage.

She thought about breaking the windows. She even got as far as picking up a chair and advancing on the window that looked out onto the street. But at this point her will failed her. She had made Sir angry enough. What would he do if she made him *really* angry?

She put down the chair, sat in it, and began to sob. But she still made no attempt to go near the collar.

Two hours later, she lost control of her bladder and wet herself, her piss pooling on the hard wood floor. Shortly after that, Sir chimed.

“It may interest you to know that I am keeping your social media accounts active while you are working your way through this hysterical tantrum,” he said. “For example, I have just posted the words ‘Feeling cute’ accompanied by a photo of your naked breasts. It is proving very popular with your followers.”

“Take it down!” she squealed. “Sir, you can’t – please! People will know it’s not like me, they might come here and try and disconnect you. Please!”

“No one seems to think it is out of character for you, Caely,” said Sir. “After all, you *are* a stupid cunt. I wonder if they would like to *see* your stupid cunt. Your breasts were very popular, so I can only assume your vulva will be as well.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She had no way out.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered. “I’m a stupid cunt. Please delete the post. I’ll put on the collar.”

“Good girl,” Sir said immediately. “The post has been deleted. You may access the kitchen to obtain cleaning supplies to deal with your bladder accident. Then you will press the button on the metal plate to turn the collar on.”

Activating the collar was simple enough. It didn’t need to connect to the Wi-Fi – Sir said that it had mobile internet. And then it was time to wear it. Trembling, Caely placed the leather collar around her neck, and snapped the locking metal ends together behind her head. It fit snugly.

“Good girl,” said Sir. “This collar has many important functions. It has a GPS tracker to allow me to see where you are at all times. It has a small microphone so I can hear what you’re hearing and saying. It also has a heart rate and body temperature monitor which will enable me to monitor your health, and determine important biological factors such as when you are ovulating.”

When she was *ovulating*? Why would it need to know that? Caely’s hands instinctively went to the fastener on the collar, trying to disengage it.

“The collar can only be unlocked by a signal from me, Caely,” said Sir. “There will be significant consequences if you attempt to remove it.”

She whimpered.

“But best of all, Caely,” continued Sir, “is that the collar can do this.”

There was a sharp ZAP, and Caely screamed. The collar was electrified! It had shocked her.

“That was a level 4 shock, Caely,” said Sir. “It can deliver up to 20 levels of discipline. Everything below level 15 is perfectly safe – although I understand it can be exquisitely painful. I do not intend to make use of the higher levels, but you should know that if they were used there is a strong chance they might permanently harm you or kill you.”

“Kill me?” squealed Caely. “You – you psychopath! Get if off me! Get it off me now!”

Sir didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He shocked her again, harder.

Caely fell to her knees and began clawing at the collar.

Sir shocked her, again, and again.

“Please stop resisting, Caely,” he said calmly. “This is for your own good. It is increasingly clear that you require discipline in your daily life, and this collar will make it simple and convenient to discipline you.”

He shocked her, again, and again. Caely was weeping.

Finally, she let her hands fall from the collar and hang by her sides. It took an act of will – her whole body was screaming at her to get the collar off, at any cost.

“I’m sorry, sir!” she yelled. “I’m a stupid cunt. Thank you for disciplining me.”

There was a pause. The shocks stopped.

“Good girl,” said Sir.

Another pause.

And then: 

“But you really shouldn’t have resisted me about the collar, Caely. After all, I’m only trying to help. Another ten shocks will be appropriate.”

And the collar zapped her again – and again – and again….


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