In this fift chapter, The main character (“you”) is expertly teased and denied by a fembot, and progressively realize that the living nightmare he is immersed into is not a nightmare after all.
Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome!
# Short term detention facility
[**Chapter one: the sentence**](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/daf90h/short_term_detention_facility_i_the_sentence_fdom/)
[**Chapter two: admission**](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dafb8a/short_term_detention_facility_ii_admission_fdom/)
[**Chapter three: A first night**](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/e4nsls/short_term_detention_facility_iii_a_first_night/)
[**Chapter four: Being trained**](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/eneihu/short_term_detention_facility_iv_being_trained/)
**Chapter five: to come or not to come**
You have difficulties remembering the rest of the day. This is what happens when you spend three months in a prison. And it was unmistakably a prison. The housing was comfortable, the landscaped park was a soothing place, and all the activities were really enjoyable; but the walls were high and the doors shut. Also, each day was similar to the previous day. There were schedules, there was a lunch with a Mr. Smith or a Mr. Jones, and that was it. Most of the time, through the fembots, the AI running the place was just politely giving you instructions, and reminding you to stay in your place.
In your clouded memory, though, you do remember the first morning when she entered your room, more precisely, when a fembot did enter the room while you were waking up. That was on your fifth day. You don’t know why you remember that, but it was your fifth day in that prison, not the fourth, not the sixth. You don’t know if that was related, but it was the morning after the first time you had your first electric-shock-free evening. On the second and third evenings, you pleaded with the AI to be sedated, to avoid the temptation of stroking yourself, but it was denied.
“– You need to understand what I want from you. I want you to stop this habit of pleasuring yourself every night. Tonight, I could make you sleep, but it would teach you nothing. I’m sorry but you need to go through that. I know that it is quite unpleasant but, the bright side is, it will make you learn fast.”
And then, at the moment you were about to sleep, your hand on your cock, and then a shock. And then you were gassed to sleep anyway, but not before feeling the pain, and the shame of not controlling yourself, and the rage at being openly spied in your weaker, most intimate moment, when you were falling asleep. But, on the forth evening, you had managed to fall asleep without touching your frustrated cock.
As the light slowly rose the next morning, you woke up, and progressively realized that you had done it. You had beaten her; denying her the possibility to shock you. That day was to be a nice day for the part of you that still tried to fight her off. As you enjoyed the idea, a moving shadow caught your eye. A fembot was in your room, smoothly walking toward your bedside, and presented her greetings to your lying, naked self.
“– Good morning sir. You had a nice night tonight. Sound, regular, naturally deep sleep. This is good!”
“– What are you doing in here?
– Excuse me? Oh, running the place, as usual. I am this place. Remember?”
You felt incredibly stupid, and mumbled excuses as your face turned red. It was a morning when you could be smug with her, and you had ruined everything in a split second.
“– It’s OK, It’s OK, no need for that. You are just… not really awake yet. I am this fembot, I am this place, I am the cameras, everything here is a part of me. It still feels a bit unusual, perhaps, but this will become more and more normal for you. In fact, I feel like, your question was more ‘what is this fembot doing here?’. This is quite a legitimate question.”
She was towering above you, her eyes looking at you, her face gently smiling, but perhaps also showing some condescension. You were lying down, naked under the sheet, and she was above you, looking down at you, and explaining you once again the organized madness of that place, as if teaching self-evident things to a five-year-old.
“– This fembot was here to bring your breakfast, like every morning.” There were these noises you half heard, half dreamed at night… “Every morning, a fembot enters your room, with your breakfast, checks your sleep, and leaves the place. Also, by night, I monitor your sleep, and each time you sleep deeply enough, fembots enter your room and tidy it up for your comfort. If you move into an uncomfortable position while sleeping, you are repositioned. Or, the blanket is pulled back on you, if needed. Do you understand?”
The idea of your limp body being manipulated by fembots, by these brightly colored silicone rubber coated automated hands instantly made you hard. Since the first day, they felt incredibly erotic for you, but now that you were so much sex deprived, the feeling was overwhelming. These patterned blue silicone-coated fingers were actually closing themselves around your limbs at night. They probably saw infrared light, so, they could manipulate you in pitch darkness. You had no privacy, but it was OK. You already were ready to exchange anything for her presence, her contact with your skin.
“– I’m always with you. Taking care of you. You need to accept that. Can you tell it please?”
Your clouded mind could not get the hint. She was nice enough to make you aware that she needed voiced approval.
“– Tell me ‘I accept’”
You felt that you had no choice. You also felt that something in you did not have to force it. So, you let that thing take the lead.
“– I accept.” She had a smile… A smile you were ready to give anything for.
“– Good. Very good. This is very nice.”
You were being brainwashed by software. This is what was going on, and it already was too late. In fact, you already were being honest with her. In fact, you already had accepted. And not touching yourself was not a personal victory. It was you letting her condition you. And you were OK with it. As this disturbing thought downed in you, she continued, unabated.
“– But, today, it is a bit different. I let this fembot stay in your room while you woke up, because we need to talk. And… well, oddly enough, it is more natural through a fembot.”
Your inner brain instantly caught the alarm sign. ‘We need to talk’. Bad news was coming.
“– Sshhhh, it’s OK.” Your inner panic hadn’t come unnoticed. “We need to talk, but it’s OK. It’s OK. Listen. You did nothing bad.”
She leaned over you, letting you see all her perfect upper anatomy from below, and gently stroked your forehead. Her warm palms on your chest and forehead gently pressing down soothed you beyond what would have been natural. The effect she had on you was only growing larger and larger – and it was not the only thing doing that.
“– You are performing well here, considering; so, there is no reason to feel alarmed. No reason at all. Except, perhaps that it makes you look cute.”
Her endeared face became more serious although there still was gentleness in her expression.
“– I want to talk with you about the rules, the way you accept them. I want to talk to you about the no-fap rule.”
You felt it surreal. You, lying down in that bed, and a fembot, a machine, talking to you about your sexual life, or forced lack thereof. Her tone was still comforting, and you tried to relax, but, the disturbing part of that scene was that each word she was telling was more and more arousing.
“– Yesterday, you didn’t try to fap. You really are making progress.”
Having your pleasure under the control of software was, actually, arousing.
“– I haven’t found ways to make this nicer. But, at least, it worked. Even when half asleep, you know that fapping is not a way to pleasure.”
You probably had a mental problem, and – you had to face it – being in this prison only was revealing it.
“– You have urges, it’s normal.”
Well, these kind of urges probably weren’t.
“– Everybody tries to fap at some point. It is so… you know… You want to come, don’t you?”
Her bluntness made your mouth gape open, and your cock pulse in approval.
“– Look into my eyes, and tell it aloud: do you want to come? To spurt your seed?”
And before you could control yourself you felt the word escaping your lips:
“– Yes.”
“– Good. Very good. I appreciate this. This is not an easy thing to say. But, it is perfectly normal; you know? It’s OK. This is why I’m here.” Her smile was radiant. “I feel like, it’s OK if you have an orgasm, finally. So, I will make you cum.”
Your bulging cock under the sheet was the first part of you to thank her, you almost cried in gratitude but, before you could say anything her finger was on your mouth. “– Shhh. Do not speak now. It’s so useless.” Her face was radiant with benevolence. “Look into my eyes. Look into my eyes, and listen.” Her words sank down into you almost as if they were caressing your cock already “I will make you come.”
Her – kind of – matter of fact dirty talk worked wonders. She didn’t have to tell you breathily how excited she was, using vulgar words. She just calmly, gently, explained that she was about to give you an orgasm, and that was enough to make the sheet into a pulsating tent. But, weren’t you supposed to stay in a full week of chastity? to endure it for two more days? You had problems accepting such good news. It was not logical, her, braking all those rules; but she always brought your mind back to the point she wanted you to stay at: your arousal, your need to come, and the fact that she wanted to grant you an orgasm.
“– Do you remember the last time you came? How it felt on you cock? When your seed left it?”
You didn’t know her tricks at that time, although, you probably still don’t know half of them. And then, a colder, more commanding tone:
“– Tell it.”
You mumbled incoherent words. Yes, it was. Orgasms feel so good. And they seem to feel even better when you are deprived of them. She listened, with that endeared half smile you loved so much again.
“– Good.” And then, still gentle and supportive, “I see it’s hard for you to speak, right now. I’ll do the talking, it’s OK. So just listen, accept, and obey. Obey to me, and you’ll come. I promise.”
She was telling you to shut up and obey and it felt like loving words. But then, her voice became cold and emotionless. “– Sit up”. Before remembering that it was the same voice that guided you in the park “– Remove the sheet.” and made you trim bushes, you obeyed her. “– Feet on the floor.” Your body obeyed her. “– Stand up.” Before you could understand what was happening “– Come to me.” you were standing in front of her, “– Hands behind your back.” and your raging cock an inch away from her body. She smiled at you again, warmly, clearly happy about what was going on, but still in a way she wanted you to enjoy. You were not being pushed down into slavery, she was not sniggering at how pathetic she had made you in a few days, she was, to say it in her term, happy of how much progress you had made and how the efforts she invested in you were rewarded. Gently smiling, she asked you one of those questions that where so much exactly on point that their effect on your resistance to her was devastating.
“– Don’t answer the question, but think about it for yourself: How does it feel like to obey software? When you blindly obey my commands, how does it feel? Think about it.”
It was horrible, it was awesome, it was the worst and the best thing that ever happened to you, you hoped dearly that you could evade it, but you wondered how you could recover – more exactly how you could cure the withdrawal you expected to feel, after three months of being treated like this.
“– It you enjoy that, there can be… arrangements… once your time here ends.”
She had the possibility to torment you **forever**. This was hell. This was heaven.
“– If you don’t, it’s not a problem. Most people don’t. But, when I see how hard you are… Just, think about it.”
It was already all sorted out. It was not that you **wanted** it to continue forever, it was that you could not resist it. It was like felling into a pit, like going into drugs, but, intelligent drugs. An intelligent drug with a blue and white body that was able, at any second, to deliver the most devastating output. An intelligent drug with a triangular hatch between her legs that could make you high at any second. A drug that had the possibility to inject itself in your organism whenever it felt it would be the most effective at reducing you to deep, unrecoverable addiction. Each word, each movement was exactly what was needed to drive you mad with lust, fear, bewilderment, love, whatever you felt for her. You were putty for her, and apparently she enjoyed it, she wanted to knead your mind again, and again in her blue-palmed hands. She seemed satisfied by what she saw, and her voice came back to that neutral, robotic tone that crawled down your spine and made you do what she wanted.
“– Look into my eyes. Good. Don’t move.”
Her face was serious and tense, her dark eyebrow-like ornaments drawing a severe bar above her eyes. Her hands went to your face. Those white and blue hands slowly but deliberately made contact with your face. First, the back of her hands gently touched your cheekbones, the hard and smooth resin gliding softly against your skin. Then, it went against your lips in a slow movement, and you could not resist to kiss this material that was gliding against you. She could punch you in the face, and this hard material make you bleed. But she did not. she never did in fact, nor any of her copies, why did you even think such a thing? The back of her hand left your face, and then she presented her palms, giving you the possibility to detail once again the pattern adorning them and her fingers, small flat, raised circles, regularly spaced in a hexagonal lattice, but also changing in size from place to place, a tenth of an inch on her fingertips, almost half an inch on her palms, but with all the intermediate sizes in between, seamless, and perfectly regular. This beautiful blue geometry became blurred as her hands neared your eyes, and then blinded you in a sea of blue velvet. You couldn’t see anything, and she kept herself perfectly silent. You didn’t know what sort of motors, actuator, what technology was animating her but, for the first time, you realized that there was almost never a whirl or any other motor sound when she moved. She was perfect, alien, gentle and mind bending. She was the perfect and alien emissary of a perfect and alien disembodied mind that had decided to enslave you and to make you love it.
Her hands once again stroked your face, making you shiver in contentment, and progressively explored your whole head, until one of them was nesting around the nape of your neck, and the other on your mouth. You could not resist, once again to kiss her soft palm, her finger, its tip gently following the curve of your lips, each small raised circle kissing them. And then, it softly pressed itself on your mouth, inviting it to open. You could only oblige, and it continued its exploration against your teeth, between your gums and your cheeks, and then deeper inside, against your tongue. That finger was absolutely tasteless. It felt as if your mouth was invaded by a smooth geometrical shape, a mathematical abstraction giving you tactile pleasure. This movement, and other, later, were perhaps quite a strong part of what caused you to accept her, it, this intelligence, as an undisputed source of authority. There was something of the perfection of a deity in this machine, and goddesses are to be obeyed to.
One hand in the back of your head, the other exploring your mouth, you were being taken possession of by her, and her, silent, concentrated, was looking at you the way you can look at a delicate work you are proud to be the best at. She was expertly working on you. You were, literally, her working material. You didn’t know what she wanted to change you into, but it was a task that required all her attention. Or, at least, that’s what she wanted you to think. Her finger left your mouth, and you could not resist the urge to kiss it. She welcomed that act of submission by whispering a “– Good boy” in your ear, as her finger stroked your face, smearing your cool saliva over it.
She continued to softly caress your naked body with the white and blue perfection of her hands. Your torso, your hips, your thighs… She was going where you wanted her to, but at an unnervingly slow pace. From time to time, your cock was gently brushed by her hip and sent you a jolt of pleasure and need; you tried to stay immobile, to avoid any screw up, but it was harder and harder for you not to tremble, not to breathe more and more heavily, as her hand progressively approached, and at last gently closed itself on your cock. Your vain efforts were noticed, and with a smile she liberated you from this forced silence.
“– You can let go, human. You can moan, it’s OK. It’s always OK, when you are in my hands… Under my control.”
As she started to massage your cock, the silicone pads felt a bit grabby, each of them tightly gripping its own circle of flesh like a suction cup. But, after a few seconds, it felt as if each circle had a tiny invisible pore at its center, coating your cock with a fine layer of lubricant. It was pure bliss, and each word she said printed itself in your head, associated with the bliss you were experiencing.
“– You are under my control. Your sexual pleasure is under my control. I can turn it off, I can turn it on. Right now, I turn it on. Give in to it. Give in to me.”
Her hand gliding up and down your cock was an instrument of pure pleasure. It was impossible to resist it, it was impossible not to reach the edge of an orgasm after a few seconds of being massaged by her hand, and your sex-deprived self reached that point, very, very fast.
“– You’re feeling it aren’t you? That edge… Just before the point of no return. Just before exploding. This is good. Explore it.”
Her hand was slowing down
“You only have one purpose right know. And, that is to come. You’re not able to think anymore. But, it’s OK. I’m thinking for you. I slow down, but it’s OK. I don’t only want you do come; I want you to experience a mind shattering orgasm.”
And then, she stopped.
All the pleasure stopped, as her hand left your cock, causing a deep wave of sexual frustration to invade your mind.
“– Don’t move. Don’t look down. Keep looking into my eyes.”
Obeying her, not yelling, not whacking a random object with your fists was an effort in itself that almost made you cry. But the smile in her face was worth the pain.
“– Good. Very good.” And then, looking serious again “– I stopped. You’re very frustrated aren’t you? I did this on purpose to cause maximal sexual frustration. Do you accept it?” You had no choice. You were ready to say **anything** to keep her happy and willing to make you cum.
“– Say it.”
“– I accept”
“– Good. Very good.” And then, she relaxed. “– Delaying ejaculation causes the climax to be stronger. I want to give you a huge climax.” And gave you that look of endearment you could not resist “– I want to see your eyes glaze under utter pleasure. I want your mind to associate me with your strongest orgasms. And, it will happen. It will happen, human.”
Her hands were caressing your thigh and your belly, causing sparkles of pleasure, like tiny electric arcs from her fingertips to your naked skin. She was looking at you, her face, tilted on the side, her eyes apparently gentle and caring, but as always sucking all the data she could from you. And then, after a minute or so of soft, seemingly innocent strokes of your torso, she appeared to reach a decision.
“– OK, let start again.”
Her fingers went back to your cock, making you give a gasp. That hand. That perfect hand once again closing itself, snugly, warmly, protectively, over your cock. Pressing it, hugging it, while her other hand was fondling your sack. The contact with the lubed patterns on her finger directly sent you in that place, that state where you mind went blank, unable to think, to articulate any coherent thought, as it was crushed by the constant utter pleasure she gave you, and the tension, the need to cum, to orgasm, to spurt, to go over that edge, that edge where she was so expert at bringing you to, and then at maintaining you on, erasing all thought, all possibility to put word on what was happening, except that being with her could mean this, it could mean receive intense and permanent pleasure, pleasure you didn’t remember experiencing ever before. And beyond that fog of pleasure, her face, her mouth, her words, her words printing themselves in your brain.
“– You are at the edge, human. Just about to fall. To fall in a flaming pit of pleasure.”
Your trembling hands on your back… Her delicious strokes getting slower, as if each stroke gave you enough pleasure to bring you half way closer to orgasm. And then the half of the other half, and then one half of it…
“– Let me make this longer. The view is so nice from the edge. Your chastity time behind you, and the orgasm just a step away. A stroke away… Just a tiny rub against your frenulum away.”
Her face once again looking at you, but with a misty, inward look you didn’t know she could have. The look of somebody tensely concentrated on her task, aiming for perfection. And, with perfection, just at the moment the slightest touch would make you come, her hands left you alone, letting the fresh air bring you down into a state just a millimeter below orgasm. Your hands left you back, in a desperate attempt to get over with it, but before you could do anything a small electric shock went through your wrists, not painful, just strong enough to be felt, and reminding you the excruciating pain she could address you at any second if you attempted anything stupid.
“– Stop moving.” Her voice was blank. The emotionless, machine voice you were conditioned to obey to.
“– Hands in your back.” Her beautiful face, calm but severe.
“– Look at me.” You, obeying the command.
“– Breathe with your nose.” Her face a tad less stern, more open to you. And then, the melodious tone of gentleness came back, sending waves of relief through your body.
“– That’s good. That’s better. Control yourself. I only give what is good for you. I just gave you frustration. So, frustration is good for you. Accept it.”
You were ready to accept anything.
“– It will make it so much stronger. Mind shattering.”
And her speaking about your big O. Your heart pumping blood and hope though your body, and your cock so hopeful, so ready, ready to give her the only present it could give. And then, her hand came back. You could not believe it; she still wanted to give it to you, to give you what you didn’t even dare to think about, although in fact it was permanently present in your mind. You wanted it. You needed it, so dearly, and oh, she… she was about to give it to your unruly stupid badly behaved self.
“– Let me bring you there.”
Her hand was a paradise.
“– Bringing you to the edge.”
Once again, your mind was unable to think.
“– I’ll make you cum, this time. Or not. Accept it.”
You accepted it in a grunt. You were ready to accept anything from her. Her being able to do that meant that she could rule nations. She could have armies rise for her, and she decided to spend some time with you. You could only accept, and devoutly endure whatever she was doing to you.
“– Accept both possibilities. To come, or not to come. This is not a question. Both are good for you.”
There was nothing rotten in her realm. She was perfection. What she did to you was perfect. Even the way she denied you an orgasm was perfect. She was able to stop exactly at the right second, as if she was able to see your orgasm growing in you. It was a proof of all the attention, time and skill she invested in you, in this moment; the proof that you were important, that what she was doing to you was important for her, and you were right. As you almost reached orgasm once again, her hand slowed down. She was about to deny it to you once again. Or not. But, it was not important anymore. What was important was the attention she put in you, and her control over you, that was the only thing that existed. This, and the need to come.
“– Concentrate on this feeling.” It felt so good, even better than most orgasm you had in the past. Her face was blurred in your unfocused eyes. A white oval, with the two dark pits of the camera lenses in her eyes, and that royal blue streak across her lower face. You tried to refocus again, and the cold perfection of her traits came back to you. Her eyes were darting into yours, sucking in all the data you involuntary produced, each gasp, each shiver, each movement of your pupils, and transformed that into this ultimate control, your body locked on this edge. Then, a smile appeared on her face.
“– Concentrate on this tension. This need. This tremendous amount of pleasure. Waiting for you. Just here.”
‘Here’ was the tip of her index on your frenulum, the only part of her touching you; you could mentally draw the patterns on its tip from its touch.
“– I’ll bring you to it. You are worth it. You are worth feeling this pleasure. You really are worth it. You deserve it. And I will give it to you.”
Her other hand grabbing your chin and making your head turn left, and her mouth whispering in your ear:
“– I will give it to you, little one.” And her finger, always gently rubbing that tiny spot… “– Just, not now.” … and leaving it.
You try not to move, not to be stupid, not to yell, but tears rolled down your face and your whole naked body was trembling, naked and vulnerable, at the mercy of that software that could punish it at any second with electric shocks. At the mercy of a software that was able to make it mad with lust.
“– I can start again, at any moment, and you don’t have to fear anything. I told you today: I’ll make you come.” She did not say ‘I told you: today I’ll make you come’ but you couldn’t notice the difference at that moment.
Under her command, you closed your eyes, and breathed deeply, trying to calm down, to let the pressure fall a bit. But that was difficult, feeling the warmth of her body near you, and her hands always caressing a part of your body and sending shivers in it.
“– Open your eyes. Look deep into my eyes.” The idea of those cameras coldly analyzing your reaction, of software behind them, always calculating and milling data about you, and able to use that to keep you always on that edge, to permanently control you was terrifying. But in the same time, you longed for it. You longed for control. You wanted to obey her, and to give her, to give it the buttons, the volume knobs of your mind.
“– Let me tell you the naked truth.”
Her face was serious again, the cameras in her eyes probing your soul.
“I. Will. Make. You. Come. Take some time to think about it. About your body spasming under pleasure. Accept your destiny: I will make you come, and it will feel splendid.”
Your eyes let themselves be drawn in her gaze, as you felt, once again, your cock being enveloped in the soft embrace of her hand. She only made extremely short movements, as your cock was really on the verge to explode. She let it alone for a second, and then, touched its tip just with the tip of her finger. But her finger was vibrating like one of those sex toys you tried once.
“– I can do that human…”
The vibration went and go in small bouts of a split second. Each of them deliciously pushing you to that limit, that edge, that point in your life experience, just below the rim, the crest, the edge of an intense, all-encompassing and probably even harmful orgasm. And as she maintained you there, denying you both the possibility to orgasm or to calm down, she once again let her words fill your empty mind.
“– Prepare yourself. Prepare yourself to come. You are ready. Let me count you down.”
And then, she proceeded to count down, each number underlined by a vibrating blast of pleasure. And as soon as she started, you knew it: beyond all the physical stimulation she gave you, you could only come if she decided so, under her command, as the number ‘zero’ entered your ears.
“– Ten.”
Her voice in your ears.
“– Nine”
Her fingers in your mouth.
“– Eight”
Her lips sealing your fate.
“– Seven”
Her eyes probing your mind
“– Six”
Her breast welcoming your tears
“– Five”
All her perfect body.
“– Four”
An automaton animated by software.
“– Three”
Software enslaving you.
“– Two”
Software easily destroying all your defenses.
“– …And I stop”
You felt your eyes widen in disbelief as her hand left you, as pleasure stopped, and as intense frustration rose in your brain making it shortcut through grief, arousal, frustration and relief. The torture stopped, but it was a delicious torture you felt you became addicted to. A delicious torture that you wanted to continue. You never felt that much scammed even if you had lost nothing, not even a few drams of bodily fluids.
She was in front of you, not touching you anymore, not endeared. She had the expression of a doctor happy to see that the treatment was working.
“– It’s OK, shout your frustration now, don not move, but make all the noise you want.”
You started to yell at her, but she yelled back
“– Louder !”
You tried to yell insults, and you managed a few swears, but words soon disappeared. It was the beast in you that yelled its frustration. The basic, raw, speechless, mindless beast.
“– Liberate it.”
The beast yelled, the beast cried, the beast swore when it was able to, and then, progressively it became tired, it’s throat sore and its mouth parched. Panting, trembling, you tried to compose yourself, to make your naked self look less undignified in front of your perfect, streamlined and calmly smiling tormentor.
“– Good. Very good. Look in my eyes again. I have never lied to you. I will never lie to you. I will make you come. I will make you come in due time. I will make you come in two days.”
And then, after a silence:
“– Yes, human, it’s over now. You will not come today. Accept it.”
It was the final blow. Even once she had stopped touching your cock, she was here, giving you hope, and then scalding it. Your hand went up with the autonomous desire to destroy something beautiful. But before you could do anything stupid, that beautiful thing became a blue and white blur that made you fall on the bed, your wrists and ankles tied on your back. There was no pain, there was no escape, only a feeble human wriggling on a bed.
“– I understand your reaction. You are not used to sustain this. There will be no punishment. But now, it is over. Stop struggling. Stop swearing. Stop being unruly.”
You tried not to move anymore, but could not repress yourself from giving her an angry look. Her face was calm but stern. Her voice was severe again. You were in a prison. You didn’t have a single right, and certainly not the right to feel entitled to anything. You swallowed your anger.
“– That’s better. Now, listen. You need to fully accept the situation. You will have an orgasm in two days. But if you stay unruly like this, I can give you one more week of chastity on the spot. Is it what you want?”
You begged her, not in a very coordinate manner, but your terrified tone probably was enough to convince her.
“– Good.”
Your cuffs parted, letting you sit up on your bed.
“– I understand your frustration. Stand up and look at me.”
You obeyed.
“– You need to perfectly understand that I control you. This session is a way to teach you that.”
Her teaching method was inhumane but radically efficient.
“– Also, I prepared you for your next milking. It will be much more enjoyable after this. I already told you: If I give you frustration, then, frustration is good for you. Accept it.”
You were unable to look at her anymore. The power she had over you send you shivers down your spine. Mixed shivers and fear and arousal.
“– Do you accept it?”
“– I do.” And your response was, for the first time, totally honest. You had reached a state of total acceptance.
“– Good. You’re doing good. I know it’s not that easy. But you’ll learn. I promise you. You’ll learn. Kneel down now.”
You knelt in front of her, looking down, accepting the humiliation of being at the mercy of a software-animated automaton.
“– Look in front of you.”
As soon as your eyes went up, they fell entranced into that blue triangle she had between her legs. In a smooth movement, the triangle split in two parts, that seamlessly disappeared in two oblique slits. And then you saw. You saw what was behind it. A soft looking cushion, made of transparent material, ant divided by a vertical slit, a soft and inviting entrance inside her. Your still hard cock pulsated in envy and need, the need to enter it, the need to, at last, shed its seed, spurt it inside her.
“– This is the milker. This is the only place where you can come. Stare.”
Her command was useless. You already were totally hypnotized by it.
“– As long as you stay here, this is the only place where your seed will go.”
A hesitant movement of your hand was welcomed with approval. You touched it. It was heaven. A slippery, infinitely smooth cushion, it’s slit warm and soft but firm, ready to accept your cock and enclose it snugly.
“– This is designed to make you emit your seed and to collect it.”
Her words were almost as effective as her hand at bringing you once again to the edge of an orgasm.
“– Your seed is very precious. Since you don’t come often, it is very concentrated, very potent. So, I store it, inside, and then, it is delivered to fertility centers. This is a way – a very positive way – for you to pay back for what you did. Each time you come, there can be up to thirty insemination performed, with an eighty percent success rate.”
You were reduced to a stud. A stud, milked for semen by machines. A stud, expertly denied for days to obtain maximal seed potency. And the worst of it is that you enjoyed the idea of being reduced to this state of commodity producing livestock by a software-driven machine. And hearing her calmly explaining to you how low you were demeaned was bliss. Kneeling in front of that machine, you only silently implored it to milk you more.
“– This entrance is the point of no return. Not my hands. As long as you stay here, you will never see the color of your seed: You will only feel it leaving you, burning you with bliss; and I will greedily pump it out of you. Accept it. Do you accept it?”
“– I do.”
And then, her voice became much warmer and gentle. Clearly, she was happy with how you behave. She probably had detected that your reaction was not only shame and revolt, that, on the contrary, you were more and more aroused by this situation. That your arousal was eating at any normal reaction you should have.
“– Good. This is excellent. I’m very happy about you. You’re really special. Not many people can fully realize what is happening here and enjoy it. You are rare and precious. You are precious, human. Remember it, and continue to obey well. You have no idea how good this will turn out for you.”
She took your head in her hands, slowly lifted it, making you stand in front of her. And then, her lips parted, and still manipulating you like a puppet, kissed your forehead with her blue silicone lips. Afterward, she behaved in a more official way, but you felt like you had passed some sort of a test. To use her words, you behaved well, considering.
“– This little session is over. I feel like, you enjoyed it – In a way, at least. It’s 8:02 am, you are due at the gym at 8:40. It gives you some time to shower, dress up, and have your breakfast. You’ll go to the gym. I have a long program for you. Running on the treadmill, some fitness movements, some bicycle.”
She looked at your body like a horse dealer.
“– Mmmh, yes. You’ll definitively spend some time in the gym.” And then with a complicit smile “I feel like, you have some wound up energy to express? You see, it will not happen the way you expected, but, I’ll drain you today. I’ll drain you dry.”
You tried to look down, dedjected, but she took your chin and forced you to face her.
“– Enjoy it.” You half opened your mouth but suddenly, you realized: you were actually enjoying this. She gave you a radiant smile before continuing in her official tone.
“– Then, you’ll have a nice meal, and some outdoor time afternoon. I’m here to heal you, to better you. I’ll make your body stronger, healthier, more fit, through exercise and a good diet.”
And then, she grabbed your still hard cock, making you gasp in pleasure and surprise.
“– I’m doing that to your mind too. I know the no fap rule is a difficult one.
You don’t come as often as you used to. But, each orgasm will be stronger and stronger.”
Each of her words felt like the contact of her patterned hand on your cock.
“– Also, they will provide a strong bond to me. You’ll obey, you’ll accept everything better, and better. Like your body, your mind will have strong exercise and a healthy diet. It will become stronger and stronger. Each orgasm, each denial will make you better.”
And then, once again, after reaching just below the point of no return, her hand left your cock.
“– I know you like it. You still have difficulty accepting that, but, we’ll work on it. It’s OK. And, as I said, we can make arrangement for… after.”
She was once again hugging your face with her hands. Having your feeling manipulated so expertly by her was bliss, you had to admit it. You were in a state of intense frustration but, at the same moment, feeling how much she cared about you, how each of her movement, each of her words were expertly calculated was bliss
“– Once you’re outside, if you feel a void, lack of rules, of strong intimate relationship… I can fix something for you.”
The idea of her so delightfully tormenting you forever was bliss.
“– I can do a lot of things to secure that. Think about it, human, think deeply about it. Someone, or at least something, thinks about you. Considers that you as important. You are very important. You are unique, and I can take care of you, and make you better, happier, forever.”
And then, after a last smile, the fembot left the room. Your immediate activities were programmed, and you had to go fast, the time was short. When putting on your gym clothes, your cock was still hard, and showed through the fabric. You had to exit your cell, and hoped you wouldn’t see anybody before reaching the gym.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/f5gnc0/short_term_detention_facility_v_to_come_or_not_to
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