The Programmable Personal Servant | gag and cuffs bondage story

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Although she was anxious to get home, Marilana kept to her standard schedule and walked. While at the complex, she had little choice but to ride around on the escalators and the moving pavements while convenient, neither provided much exercise and so she tried to make up for the unhealthy effects by going out whenever possible. Besides, a walk was just about the only way to enjoy the open air and its trees and shrubberies with which the city was now adorned and which, nowadays, few ever encountered; it was as though the outdoor life had become a health hazard, something to be avoided and that at a time when, through general disuse, it had never been so pleasant.

At a brisk walk, she arrived outside her apartment block after twenty minutes and was very conscious of her other sin - she was sweating. And it felt good. As usual she had to wait while the door-control system woke up - she was probably the only one who ever passed that way - and then took the elevator to the seventh floor; it was the only way up.

She pressed her right forefinger into the print-scanner and her left eye against the retina-scanner and the door opened softly. There, waiting with the infinite patience of a machine, stood her new device. It had cost her entire savings and she had also been obliged to accept a loan to pay for the thing but the brash young salesman would surely have been disconcerted had he discovered the true reason for her apparent succumbing to his blandishments.

Nobody could ever describe the thing as an aesthetic adornment; it was a functional device in which the main design consideration had been reliability. It was less than five feet in height and, at something over two feet in diameter, was able to negotiate most doors and cupboards. The design team had focussed in on the question: "Why should a robot have to resemble a human being? Upright - bipedal?" Walking was an extremely complicated matter to engineer and so they had set their robot servant on four non-clogging ball-casters and drove it with two paddle wheels. These wheels, one each side and spring-loaded down to the floor, gave it astonishing maneuverability around any obstruction which it could not climb without oversetting.

A quick inspection of her rooms showed that, once again, the thing had carried out all the instructions she had given; the place was spotless, the evening meal was prepared, the table was laid for one, wine was set to cool, a bath was ready waiting for her and the music system was filling the place with low-level music. Perfect. If it learned everything as quickly and completely as during this first three weeks, then she was in for some good times.

In that first-day mood of defiance, she had emerged from the bathroom in the nude; it was just a machine and she was not going to be intimidated or made to feel bashful before it. She often went around in her birthday suit - living alone she could please herself - and the presence of this... er... THING ... shouldn't make any...? Yes! She'd decided, that's what she would call it. She'd put down her wine-glass: "Six-seven-nine-oh treble-five, your attention please."

Nothing had happened. Ah-huh, she had some learning to do as well. "Six-seven-nine-oh-five-five-five, your attention please."

A faint whirring sound had emanated from somewhere and the amber attention-light came on: "At your service, Miss Cunliffe."

"I can't go on calling you by that long string of silly numbers. I want you to abandon that and answer to the call of THING. Do you understand that?"

There had been a short pause and then: "Miss Cunliffe. Your instruction has been programmed. Your PPS will from this time answer to a call of thing."

"Well, while we are at it we will also get rid of this Miss Cunliffe business. Miss Cunliffe to be erased and substitute... erm... Mistress. From now on address me as MISTRESS. Do you understand that?"

Again that short pause and then: "Mistress. Your instruction has been programmed. From now on your PPS will address you as Mistress."

Well. Absolutely no trouble there. It all seemed to be ridiculously easy. But perhaps she ought to wait until she had a little more experience...? But no; take it easy... just progress one step at a time with precautions... that surely was the correct way to gain experience?

Nevertheless she HAD gone about it slowly but today was THE day. She refilled the glass and carried it to the couch. "Thing. Your attention please. You will clear the table and remove the dishes to the kitchen. Please postpone the washing-up until later. There is something else I wish you to do at once."

While Thing was trundling back and forth between the dining area and the kitchen she put down her wine and went into the bedroom. From the drawer under her bed, she took a pair of ancient mechanical handcuffs and two keys; crossing to her dressing table she extracted a length of ribbon from the bits-&-pieces drawer, threaded it through one of the keys and hung it around her neck. Then she returned to the couch in time to see Thing returning.

"Thing, your attention please. Come to me here." She held out the cuffs hanging over her fingers. "Have you seen this sort of thing before? Do you know what they are called?"

Thing extended an arm with a grasping tool and raised the cuffs to its visual port. After turning them a few times, she heard the distinctive click-click-click as the robot worked the cuffs. "It consists of two near-identical interlocking ring-devices which engage in one direction only. There appears to be a ratchet mechanism; most likely the small hole in the side of the body is a means of releasing the ratchet."

"Thank you, Thing. You amaze me. These are old-fashioned manacles called handcuffs. They are clamped around a wrist in this manner and, once on, they have to be released just as you guessed by means of this key. Like this."

She locked one cuff around her left wrist and then, deliberately, inserted the key and removed it. "I want you to repeat that but first you must understand that they must not be squeezed down too tightly, else they can seriously damage the hand. Now, I wish you to lock this around my wrist on my command 'Lock' and close it down one click at a time until I say 'enough'; that will be the correct setting, which you will always use. Do you understand that?"

Again that short whirring pause and then: "Your instruction has been programmed, Mistress. The soft gripping tool will be used."

"Good." She held out her left hand again and commanded, "Lock."

Thing's response took her breath away. So fast and so gentle was the reaction that she found herself gazing stupefied at the manacle dangling from her wrist almost before the sound of her voice had died away. She was even more amazed to find that the cuff was closed to the point where it just failed to pinch. "Is that the setting for 'enough', Mistress?"

"Indeed, yes. Good. Now - the second command will be... no... it had better be 'Release'; when you receive that command you will take the key as I demonstrated just now and remove the cuff from my wrist. Do you understand that?"

"Mistress. The command word 'Release' is now programmed; the instructions are already there following your demonstration."

"My word, you certainly do learn quickly. Good. Now then... Thing... Release." The cuffs were now hanging over her extended fingers; she wondered if perhaps she ought to find out about slowing him down a bit but... wait a minute, she'd referred to him... IT... as HIM. I'm already starting to accept it as... "

But she decided to leave that for future consideration; this was getting too exciting to delay now. "Thing, your attention please. You know of course that there are two cuff rings? I want you to fit one to each of my wrists."

She extended both hands: "Lock." The precision with which the robot's movements were controlled, and at high speed too, left her somewhat bewildered until she remembered that it was guaranteed to juggle five fresh eggs in the air without mishap. She found that there was movement between the cuffs and her wrists but that they were closed sufficiently to prevent escape.

"Thing... Release." and she stood free once more.

"I can't quite believe how quickly you learn new things. Let's try an experiment. I want you to put the handcuffs back on me but this time, instead of using my wrists, I wish you to put them around my ankles. Do you understand that?"

"Will the setting 'enough' be the same for the ankle as for the wrist?"

"No, possibly not. Please find a second value for enough for use on the ankle. Lock."

There was the briefest of pauses, probably while Thing re-aligned his optics on her ankles and then, as before, he moved with a swiftness that deceived the eye. In fact, she was so disconcerted that she tried to retreat and the hobble brought her down with a bump on to her backside.

Thing showed signs of perturbation at this but she regained her feet and assured him that there was nothing amiss. "Now, Thing... release."

She went through the routine twice more until she was convinced that Thing would not make a mistake and then called a halt. Later, just before going to bed, she called Thing for one more try but, again, he performed without fault. "Tomorrow," she promised herself.

The following day after the evening meal, she rehearsed the routine she meant to follow before calling Thing. She changed into a brief sunsuit but came back into the living area before summoning Thing. Although she had schooled herself to move around the apartment naked, she somehow balked at the idea of Thing being in her bedroom. To have him clean in there when she was not occupying it was one thing but somehow...?

"Thing, may I have your attention please." This time she instructed the robot to handcuff her on the command 'Lock' and then to release the cuffs after the elapse of ten minutes - without any further instructions from her. He - it - cuffed her with the same dexterity but to her astonishment, Thing then trundled back into the kitchen to finish the after-dinner chores. "I didn't say anything about leaving me like this," she muttered. "I suppose this is what the boffins call multi-tasking?"

She sat in the big chair and looked at her manacles; in truth she was feeling a bit foolish. She took hold of the key, which was hanging around her neck but decided against it and reached for the wineglass. The digital readout showed fifteen seconds to go when Thing came trundling back from the kitchen and swiftly removed the cuffs.

Evidently he had finished in the kitchen because he then moved back against the wall and shut down into stand-by. She waited for a full hour and then repeated the experiment; once again Thing locked her up and then released her on schedule. She tried again but this time she instructed him to cuff her ankles around the support for the table; despite the change of schedule he carried out the task faultlessly. Then once more but with her hands behind; the key hanging around her neck was not of much use now but Thing again performed faultlessly.

Now she had come to the moment of decision. She really wanted to be tied with rope but she had run into a real-life problem: How to demonstrate a rope tie when the object of that tie was your own hands? Should she try the rope-tie first or teach him to gag her? Now that Thing could be relied on to release her at a given time without a signal from her, it was possible to use a gag. At this point she decided against the ball-gag; she might lose her teeth. No, a simple cloth cleave would be adequate - time for fancy stuff later when she was more sure of herself. Correction - when she was more sure of Thing.

Next evening however, when she demonstrated the gagging, Thing showed signs of clumsiness. He was slow to start and seemed reluctant to put the cloth into her mouth. She showed the method twice more and eventually he seemed to get the idea although she had some difficulty in getting him to knot it tightly enough. "Oh well," she sighed: "No doubt practice will make perfect."

Next day was Saturday and, with all day to play, she started early. Prone on the floor she instructed Thing to cuff her ankles and then her hands behind. Next the third pair of cuffs were used to join the other two and she was in a hog-tie. "Ten minutes," she instructed, "after you have finished the gag."

Again Thing seemed hesitant but the whole affair went without a hitch. She was jubilant; now she could play bondage games all by herself - real bondage without the ability to release herself. She repeated the tie but instructed Thing to release the hog-tie and the gag after twenty minutes but not to remove the other two sets of manacles until lunchtime. She would be helpless for most of three hours.

She wriggled, twisted, tugged and squirmed all to no avail - there was no escape; even had she hung that key around her neck again she realised that it would not have come within reach. After Thing removed the gag and the hog-tie she spent a couple of hours mooning around the apartment still chained; she wondered about giving him instructions to cut it short and release her but hesitated - might not conflicting orders confuse the system? Better try that out under less critical conditions. At that moment she was utterly dependent on Thing doing his stuff.

She found too that next time she would have to tell Thing to leave the room after he had secured her; somehow, while he watched, she just couldn't... But why? Perhaps, had she personified him as a woman ... would she have felt differently about him? But he was sexless. Why had she conceived him as a HIM? Was it because the world was male-dominated? Was it because he lacked boobs on the front? Perhaps it was because she had given him control over her - until he decided it was time to release her, she was no longer her own master. So... did she crave a male master?

Thing released her on time. She showered and Thing served her with lunch. She had red weals on her wrists and ankles - stupid, she should have taken precautions. Tomorrow she would go to the Sunday store and buy gloves and boots.

The following day, Sunday, she returned laden with her spoils. The boots she wore because her normal shoes were the smaller burden. The gloves, which reached well above her elbows, were a little too obvious and she had them packed within one of her parcels. She had also visited the play store and purchased several other items to enhance her collection of bondage equipment - things of little use to one who normally played alone.

When she entered Thing was at his usual station against the wall where he would enter standby mode when all instructions were exhausted. She could barely contain herself but common sense dictated that she eat first and let Thing complete his accompanying chores.

While Thing obeyed the command to "Clear and Stow", she went to her bedroom to prepare. She stripped and then donned the chiffon nightgown, which had been one of today's purchases. She had always fancied being kidnapped in something see-through; seemed much more vulnerable and helpless that way?

"Thing," she asked, "why are you so reluctant to gag me when I ask?"

"Mistress. There is a conflict in programming. Thing is not permitted to attack Mistress. Neither may Thing allow any other to attack Mistress. It is only your reinforcement of the command that makes it possible."

"Oh, of course. Silly, I should have thought of that but then... I haven't had much exper... Thing. Please note that these activities do not amount to an attack. When I instruct you to do it then it is NOT an attack on me. Putting handcuffs on me and applying gags is not an attack by you on me. Are you able to make that a part of your instruction code?"

There came the familiar short interval of whirring and humming and then: "Yes, Mistress. Thing will no longer be prevented from carrying out your commands in these matters."

"Good. Now Thing... here are the handcuffs and the ball-gag." She turned her back and put her hands behind: "Lock. You will release after twenty minutes. And Gag"

She found she had been correct; wandering around the apartment for twenty minutes with her hands locked behind her, gagged and wearing only that thin gown she had felt - indeed she WAS - very vulnerable. After a short rest and a drink, she took the matter one step further and instructed Thing to repeat but this time with a hog-tie. He was to release the hog-tie after twenty minutes but leave the wrist and leg-irons on for a further two hours. The effect on her as Thing left the room was amazing - all that she could have hoped for. She had barely recovered when Thing returned and, until she looked at the clock, it was hard to believe that a quarter-hour had elapsed. But she had specified twenty minutes? Had Thing at last generated an error?

It was then that things began to go pear-shaped.

As Thing entered, she was lying face down on the floor; she had rolled on to her side for a short while but then, as an experiment, had rocked and bucked until she was face down again. She waited for Thing to approach and release the hog-tie cuffs as he had been instructed. Even though there was nearly five minutes to go, the long wait following his entrance was unusual and she peered over her shoulder. To her horror, he was opening out a black bag and bringing it down over her head.

She squealed her alarm into the gag but intelligible words simply did not emerge around that big rubber ball. She was powerless to stop Thing as he deftly but surely closed the bag around her neck. For a while she fought the cuffs and then, acknowledging that they could not be defeated, she sought to get rid of the hood by rubbing it along the soft floor covering. It was no use; whatever the material of which the bag was made it seemed to offer little friction against the carpet and she finally ceased her struggles to try and breath slowly. She was drenched in sweat but that arose as much from fear as from her exertions.

What had happened? Had Thing malfunctioned? Oh yes, he had a three-year guarantee but...? Unless he released her, she wouldn't be able to invoke that and, if he had malfunctioned, then how was she ever going to escape from this capture? It was most unlikely that anyone would come seeking her - she had few close friends. In any event, even should she be missed, the security on this apartment building was such that, unless equipped with her right-hand finger print and left eyeball they would practically have to invoke an act of Parliament to gain access to this apartment. She listened intently but the apartment was silent. Presumably Thing had retreated to his rest position and had shut down into standby mode.

So! How did she re-activate him? So far she had trained him only to voice commands which were reversed on a time basis. She was unable to use her voice and he had finished his routine ... he was simply standing there awaiting her next call of "THING". Clearly she had a lot to learn about this device but, as things stood at the moment, she was unlikely to get a chance to do that learning. She was cooling down and her damp skin was beginning to feel chilly; abruptly she started a mini-panic and fought her bonds but, as she well knew, it was useless.

It was while she lay quietly again and was trying to work out a solution that she heard faintly through the hood an unmistakable whirr as Thing re-activated. Definitely he had stirred into motion but... the sound of his motors was decreasing... he was leaving the room!

She listened intently but, inside the hood, her breathing sounded at gale force. Thing seemed to have disappeared although he must be around the apartment somewhere? Then pure terror took over as a pair of distinctly human hands pushed under her and arms lifted her from the floor.

She tried to struggle and kick but a steel hog-tie is designed to defeat such a purpose. She felt herself carried and then deposited gently on what she knew to be her bed.

She was left there for several minutes and then she felt hands working on the fastening of the hood. When at last it was withdrawn she found herself looking at a quite personable young man with an unruly shock of dark hair and a grin that would make a Cheshire Cat envious.

"Good afternoon," he said amiably. Then, as his eyes wandered along her bent form. "Well, it certainly is for me."

"Don't stand there like an idiot. Have some decency and untie me!!" But it didn't come out like that at all; more like a staccato humming sound. She could have been communicating in slurred Morse code!

"Can't understand a word you say," he replied cheerfully. "Sorry I left you alone so long but I thought it a good idea to start the coffee off. I'm sure you must need some refreshment after that long battle?"

Marilana's fury was such that she bounced on the bed but the only result of her protest was that the chiffon nothingness she had been wearing slid even further up her torso and it was only too evident that her visitor was enjoying every moment. "I think," he said after a long interval of appreciation, "that I might be able to understand you better if I take that thing out of your mouth. After all... I'm sure you do speak English."

She promised bloody murder but, when he had extracted it from behind her teeth, all she could say was; "Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"

"In order, the first answer is that I'm the one principally responsible for your Thing; the second answer is silly simple really - your Thing opened the door and let me in."

"But how... I thought that the robots... why should Thing...?"

"Listen... and all will be revealed. Come to think of it, you've little choice but to lie there and listen. I'm in charge here and so... hush it... or I'll put the gag back. Ah, but I've forgotten the coffee."

At least the mystery of his penetrating the security measures was solved but it was more surprising still that he knew his way around the apartment so well and seemed to know where everything was kept and that she drank coffee and... what the hell else?

He was swiftly back with a tray of coffee paraphernalia and her barrel of biscuits. "How do you...?"

He silenced her with a raised hand: "You can neither drink coffee nor eat biscuits with a gag in place. It will be difficult enough as it is. Now." He lifted her into a kneeling position, which took much of the strain off her back, and offered a cup of coffee to her lips. Then he slipped a half-biscuit between her teeth and turned his attention to his own refreshment.

"Now," he began; "it would seem that you fail to appreciate the danger inherent in robot servants. That of course is not your fault. They are programmed according to the Laws of Robotics which were first laid down by the old-time scientist Isaac Asimov and that makes them reasonably fail-safe. However, we felt obliged to take extra precautions until their production has increased and our learning and expertise in the field has expanded. Accordingly they are all fitted with telemetry modules which allow us to constantly monitor their behaviour. You will, I hope, appreciate why we do not inform customers of this aspect?"

"That is outrageous," she spluttered, "but if you wish me to keep quiet, you'd better feed me another of those biscuits."

He obliged, grinning again. "I became concerned when you countermanded the programming; clearly you did not understand... "

"How the devil could I countermand anything? I haven't the vaguest idea how the things work."

You instructed your Thing that it was not an attack upon your person when you told it to gag you? As it happened there weren't any ill effects but... it was a very foolish thing to do. You should have consulted us."

"Please Mister..." Sarcastically, "Can you tell me how to play bondage games with your robot so that I don't get hurt? Can you see that? If I'd known about your monitoring, I wouldn't have bought the damn thing. And now that he's gone potty... you can take him back."

"As a matter of fact he hasn't gone potty as you put it. He was merely obeying the overriding instructions, which I sent. I agree I went overboard a bit but I wanted you to realise the true peril you might have been in. You kicked up the devil of a fuss when I picked you up. Hope I didn't scare you too much?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. Just that I shall be completely devoid of shit for the next six months. How about getting me out of these things?"

"Sure. Where are the keys?"

"Thing has them of course. He was meant to unlock me against the clock."

"Oh dear. That will cause a delay unless you have some duplicates?"

"No spares. But why...?"

"Well. After Thing let me into the apartment, I sent him down to stow himself in the truck; I shall have to take him with me for checks and to try and do something so that instructions such as you gave are safeguarded. Just hang in there while I go and get your keys."

"Hey. Stop. Once you leave this apartment, you won't be able to get back in again unless you've got my finger and eyeball... and I'm not too keen on passing them over. Of course, I could let you in myself if I wasn't locked up like this but you do perceive the difficulty here?"

He sucked the tip of a finger for a few moments and was obviously trying to suppress a giggle. "Yes. I do see such a difficulty. It's even worse in that, at that distance, I can't instruct the beastie to return here. I could carry you down to him but... dressed like that and locked into a hog-tie with chains, I fear we might invite some attention. Any suggestions?"

"Don't you have any tools? You must..."

"Good suggestion but... you see... all my tools are electronic and the most important is a keyboard. But wait! Fortunately there is something we can use."

He left the bedroom and shortly she heard a crash as he apparently emptied some things on to the floor. When he returned he was carrying a large cardboard box.

Marilana shook her head. "No. Locked up may be my own fault. But boxed up as well... no way."

"Your choice, entirely," he said. "I'm too much of a gentleman to force you against your will. So... what's next?"

"A gentleman," she sniffed, "wouldn't take advantage of my dishabille and would, at least, pull my gown down to a respectable level."

"Hair splitting," he pronounced in return. "It makes little difference where THAT gown is. Have you thought of the effect I could choose to generate by turning the bedside lamp on to you?"

"I don't think I like you."

"In which case we have nothing left to discuss. Goodbye."

"No, please. Wait. You can't leave me like this."

"There doesn't seem to be any alternative. You can't agree to my only suggestion so where...?"

"I'm sorry. What were you going to do with the box?"

"Tell me what clothes you want and where they are. I'll carry you down to the truck and take you back to my workshop. There we can free you and you can get dressed. Then I'll bring you back."

"Well. I suppose I've.... But why can't you free me in the truck? You can get the keys from Thing. Or have you got things in there other than robots?"

"Spoil sport. After my rescue effort and driving all over the country in your service... the least you can do is have dinner with me tonight. But in something a little more opaque please. I'll let you pay."

Before she had recovered her breath, he went on: "On the other hand... my Thing is already cooking dinner in my kitchen and then you could stay in that gown. That would save carrying a lot of clothes around, wouldn't it? On the menu is spaghetti bolognaise; have you ever thought that, were it less brittle, spaghetti could be spun into some interesting rope forms?"



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