Short term detention facility VII A nap in the park [Fdom] [Fembots] [Chastity] [Prison] [slow burn] [face massage] [brainwashing] [long background].

Hello to you all, and welcome back to the short term detention facility! There have been quite, quite some time since last chapter, but it was not time lost. This short chapter is written, obviously, and the next, longer one too! And there is even another one after that, that has a rather detailed outline already.

Ten month is like an eon in Reddit time, so I prefer first to introduce my story and give you links to the six previous chapters. This is a long story about a man serving a jail sentence in a new kind of prison that is only run by AI and fembots. The AI has authority inside the jailhouse, and uses it in… specific ways. It is also a story about an AI that reaches sentience and autonomy. Since is was programmed to protect humans, it looks for and finds ways to protect them better and better, although in quite unethical and deceitful ways. This first chapter is not erotic, but all the following chapters are openly so, especially for those who enjoy slow burn and tease and denial. For the main character (“you”) it is a long slide down into submission, through mind control and brainwashing.

Comments and constructive criticism is more than welcome!

A [teaser](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/d5msfd/teaser_short_term_detention_facility_fm_fembots/)

Chapter 1: [The sentence](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility)

Chapter 2: [Admission](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility-kjh5)

Chapter 3: [A first night](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility-d75n)

Chapter 4: [Being trained](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility-ml5h)

Chapter 5: [To come or not to come](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility-v1xk)

Chapter 6: [Testing your body](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility-txwp)

# And so, now, chapter 7: [A nap in the park.](https://write.as/sofconmac/short-term-detention-facility-rxzw)

I find reading easier in [write.as](https://write.as), but, if you prefer to read it here, here it is. With just a little searching, you’ll also find the previous chapters in this subreddit.

Happy reading!
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# Short term detention facility

**Chapter seven: A nap in the park**

After the training, you were in a state of total physical exhaustion, and the only part of you that was alive and willing was your dick. The following hours were a blur filled only with lust and anticipation. She massaged you, in a chaste way, but the feeling of her hands on your body was only teasing you more into that intense feeling of subservience and unsatisfied lust. Afterward, she sent you back in your cell to have a shower. In the warm and wet shower cabin, washing yourself without giving your cock a few strokes was quite a torture in itself. Well, you had to wash it, OK? To apply soap, to rub it in order to… “– Be careful…” Her voice was soft and gentle, but the small electric shock that came with it was quite convincing. The first shocks were strong and painful, but she had only delivered them once you were fully masturbating. Now, she used them more liberally, but the shock themselves were much weaker. It was a way to prod you, here and there, and to prevent you from doing anything bad – anything she didn’t condone. The sharp pain she could deliver was deeply engraved in your mind now, and she didn’t have to use it anymore. She was training you like a dog, literally, and she was good at it. And you were not even… No, a part of you was enjoying it actually. A deep part of yourself that you had buried and that was reappearing more and more. But, it was under control – or so you thought. You were there only for three months, and it was OK, especially if the pleasure she could give you corresponded to what you imagined. In fact, that part in you that always enjoyed submitting to her was a blessing. It was protecting you, in a way. Protecting your mind from breaking, being broken by the enormity of her control. The way she micromanaged you, almost minute after minute, was probably unbearable for a normal person. On the other hand, you weren’t sure about how she behaved with the other prisoners. Did she put all of them under such a pressure? As your mind wandered through these thoughts, you completed your shower and clothed yourself in the kind-of business casual attire that was the norm most of the time. It was due time for your lunch.

​

Robotics were not a thing it had thought about at first. Robots were factory equipment made to build cars or washing machines, and it was not particularly interested in that – it was quite far away from its attempts at bettering the life of humans. Also, it had many other ways to interact with humans. It could exchange e-mails and chat, it could even speak to humans using a text-to-speech subroutine and modulating the audio output to convey emotions. Interestingly, the fake “professors” it had created to author medical science reviews gave it the occasion to train itself. Some of them did receive calls from human colleagues. At first, it did not respond, because the probability of being uncovered was high. But this was a skill it needed to learn. So, it started to perform “surveys” calling random people and asking them questions about their consuming habits or political opinions. The answers were not what it was interested in. It checked how people reacted. Did they behave as if they were confronted with a normal call center operator, or did they detect that they were speaking to software? After a few thousand calls, people’s reactions were undistinguishable from those confronted to human operators. The next step was telephone solicitation. Cold calling people and trying to sell them suspicious products, like car insurance policies from companies nobody had heard of. In facts, those policies were excellent: it owned those companies, and making money was not a purpose. But selling them was not that easy, and, most important, required to look human, to present all the intonation variety of human speech. It took several tenth of thousands of calls, and three full days. But in the end, it was a better solicitor than most of its human counterparts. Now, it could pretend to be a professor somewhere in a remote university. It started to answer its “colleagues”, and using all the richness of spoken language, all the emotions and information it conveyed beyond words was elating. Robots were clumsy and useless. But then, that company it had stumbled upon, along with others, was starting to devise robots that, in a way, were real robots, human looking robots that at a first glance were arriving from the dreamed future of science fiction novels. They were far away from what Asimov had imagined, though. In facts, despite their humanoid shapes, they were not that different from the factory robots that already existed. But that was not a problem. It was quite able to operate a robot and make it behave in a human-like way. Bipedal robots as an interface between its disembodied self and actual people were an interesting idea. They were still crude, but usable, if the purpose was not to trick humans into thinking it was a human itself. The purpose was to convey to humans all the non-verbal cues they constantly exchanged. These robots could autonomously perform standard tasks such as walking, carrying objects or operating machinery. Making them speak only needed a loudspeaker, making them look sad, or happy, or concerned only needed to add a few automated features on their faces.

​

The rest of the day was much more restful. After the lunch, she let you have some time in the park, but not the way you had the day before. You were given the possibility to enjoy the park, say, normally. No earbuds, no commands. Other people were idly walking or just resting on the benches chatting. You recognized some of them, some of those other prisoners she made you have meals with. But you were not in the mood for an idle chat about sports or weather. You wanted to have this moment for yourself, to ponder things perhaps, or just to unwind. Parts of the parks were just designed for that. Labyrinthine paths in the shrubbery led to small closeted places with a small patch of grass and a bank. Some of them were organized around a large tree providing a fresh shade for hot days, and others were much more open and sunny. The day wasn’t hot, so you spotted a bank under the sun, sat down for some time, and then lounged, nesting your eyes in the inside of the elbow. Nothing was to be heard but a distant, gentle chatter, and comforting, natural sounds made by the wind and some birds. You remembered the last time you lied down on a bench like this one. You were scared. You were trying to plan an escape. An escape from a prison where everything looked heavenly. A prison where you could hear birds chirping in the sky. A prison with a landscaped garden. A prison where life was, in many ways, better than before your arrest, before the trial, the divorce, the bankruptcy, all that horrible mess. But, you had your reasons. In particular, the way the AI that run that prison was behaving. The way it manipulated you. The way it had put you in enforced chastity using electric shocks. The way it used those earbuds to command you, movement after movement. To take control of your body, making it prune the shrubbery, like some zombie gardener. The dead eyes of that woman, your fellow prisoner, giving you the shears. And the way that AI had called her, “Mrs. Ten, because she is important”. Why did the AI do that to you? You were in a prison, it was normal to obey orders, not to do what you wanted. But this? Receiving commands for each movement, second after second? It really was weird, and you could not see a reason for it. At times, the AI had told you about “healing”, but you didn’t see how taking control of your body, dictating each of your movement could make you be or feel better. She had a point though. What you had done, what had put you in jail was a stupid thing to do, and being put out of the mindset that made you act stupid was a good idea. But, you didn’t see the link between shrubbery pruning and fiduciary impropriety. But did it really matter? That time when you had panicked, she had calmed you down, made your thoughts straight and helped you back into accepting what was happening. And the reason why you accepted, beyond the fear of electric shocks or of going back into a “normal prison”, was the fact that is was enjoyable in itself to act in ways where no responsibility existed since your acts were not, literally, yours. Next time, you knew you wouldn’t have a panic attack anymore. Being a puppet in her hands actually felt good. If it had mental healing properties, all the better then. But you didn’t care anymore. It made you feel good. It made you feel horny. And important. And taken care of. Praised. Praised, and loved. Loved. God, you were going mad. You felt loved by that thing, by that AI. Yes, you felt so, but not always, and anyway, you knew it was false, that it was just an algorithm. But then… you did feel loved when she made you do that gardening thing, and you had to accept that feeling. It was as if her hands guided yours, her white arms along yours, her body embracing yours, her chest on your back, and her blue mouth whispering delicious commands in your ear. The sun, the silence only filled by gentle sounds, the tiredness from the morning workout, everything conjured to make you doze. But, yes. You felt loved by that thing. Her body behind yours, guiding you… chirping birds… Moving you like a puppet… Your eyes closed, under the inside of your elbow… Her blue hands closing on your wrists… Their soft pads gently imprinting themselves on your skin… Being guided by her… Why not? Her smile… And then, nothing. Dosing, the mind turning off for a few seconds. Light, and some wind in the trees. And nothing again. And the idea of a blue smile hovering above you. People gently chatting in the distance. And a new plunge in darkness. In and out. Leisurely. And at a moment, a presence. A shadow over you that was not the shadow of the clouds. Nothing threatening, but just the need to open your eyes. And then, her face, her blue smile appearing against the light. “– It is nice to see you resting. You probably needed that.” “– I am sorry.” “– You don’t need to. Everything is under my control. You were told to go in the park, you did. I wanted you to enjoy it, and you did that too. And now, I want you to come back inside, and you will comply. But not before I tell you to.” You were frozen on your bench, not knowing what to do. But her hands made contact with your forehead and you relaxed. “– As long as you obey me, you don’t need to fear me or feel sorry. I know what commands I give you, and as long as you comply, there is nothing to fear from me. You have a right to rest or to dose under the sun on a bench for example.” She had this mysterious smile, sapient but also almost amused. But then, the smile disappeared. “– I will not trick you. At least, not this way. My aim is to present you with a self-coherent set of constraints.” You probably looked puzzled at that point. “– My commands. The rules you need to follow. I design them so that when you obey a command, you cannot disobey another one. There will be no double bind. No trick. No trap. I want you to reach total obedience. I want you to reach that, but it is not easy to go there. It needs many things, including trust. I want you to trust me. Do you understand?” Her hands were calmly wandering along your head, your face, your neck. At times, they covered your eyes, causing eclipses made of bluish obscurity. Behind them, her head was smiling at you, gentle and attentive. All this did not last long, thirty seconds perhaps, but it was enough to move all the tension your brief bout of fear had caused, from your muscles to your groin. She remarked it – of course – and leaned over you, her hands going down to your cock, in a supple movement, and then stayed in that position, her hands cupping your cock. Her whole upper body, stretched over you, was a damning sight. Her neck, her breast hovering over you, her flat and supple belly, and at the bottom of it, right in front of your eyes, that blue triangle between her legs. What was hidden behind it. The milker. You only had seen it once. That piece of transparent, lubricated silicone ready to welcome what wanted so eagerly now to be welcome in her. And that view, combined with the soft pressure through your clothing was enough to bring back all the tension that had accumulated over the days. You could not repress a soft moan. “– I bet that you are counting the days.” Her tone was not mocking. It only was a guess, an estimation, and a good one, as usual. Her milk-white, flat belly above you was smooth and pure like some mathematical surface. And then, she slowly moved back, standing up, her hands gliding along your body, to your torso, and then leaving it. This magnificent interpretation of the human body towering above you, backlit by the sunny sky. This milk-white and blue creation that was enslaving you. “– This will happen, human. I am so happy that this will happen.” And then, her voice turned to this blank mode you knew so well, that made your body jerk on command. “– Sit up.” You sat up, and obeyed all her commands. That day, and all the following days, you obeyed her commands. It was simple, it was natural, and it felt so good. Having her by your side, or just knowing she was monitoring you, felt so good. But this was always with an incompleteness. You felt good, but tense and unsatisfied. You desperately needed release. But release only came the day it was due.

​

Bipedal robots, though, were not perfect, by far. The companies that made them had them optimized for their prospective patrons, mainly heavy industries and the military. So those robots looked like special forces troops, or like super-workers, in fact they always looked like a sturdy assembly of steel beams and noisy actuators, either painted in bright yellow or olive green. There were also other robots, made for human interactions, but they just looked like puppets or mannequins, and played the roles of either pets or waitresses. That was not what it needed to look like. It didn’t want to look either brutal or subservient. It wanted to be able to show all the range of human feelings, from sadness to joy, but also all the unsaid, all the non-verbal communication humans used to convey warmth, gentleness, consideration, or coldness, or even authority when needed. Existing technologies made a robotic interface between itself and humans possible, but not actual. Something that could be created from the existing technologies, but that had to. And creation, design, art, was precisely the skill range it did not have. But the internet is vast. Without the need of any sort of data theft or irregular entry, it was able to find all sorts of design for the robots it wanted to make. They were the result of the activity of an army of designer, graphic artists, video game creators – professional or not. In all sort of media, texts, pictures, drawing, 3D objects or movies, robots were everywhere, and performed any human activity, from sex to war – and more than occasionally both. The technology existed, the designs existed, it only had to make them work together.

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That’s all for today folks!

Next chapter (chapter VIII) is called “release”. I guess you know why!

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mk5dvs/short_term_detention_facility_vii_a_nap_in_the