Part 2a – The Maidbot is my Mistress
Hello there, you join me as I’m getting ready for my Mistress; I have to be in place before she walks into the playroom, naked, wearing only my collar, on my knees in a submissive posture. Legs spread, hands turned upwards and resting on my thighs, with my head down and eyes looking towards the floor. It’s nearly time for the changeover, where my maidbot turns from domestic servant to my dominant mistress, and where I have to follow her commands instead of me giving them.
The maidbot still works around my home during the day as usual, but at about the time I arrive home from work in the evening, the maidbot returns to its room and changes not only the outfit that it wears but also its personality. Gone will be the complaint maidbot, and in its place will be my Mistress-bot, ready to demand complete compliance from me, the degree of how much it will either abuse, humiliate or torment me, and treat me like the submissive slut that I am, left to specific algorithms within her programming, the parameters of which are beyond my control.
When I asked for this program change, the technician warned me that I would not know just what I could expect from my new mistress-bot until I was fully involved. Sometimes she is more lenient with me, and other times very strict, punishing my indiscretions that are either real or not, they are just part of the programming, but it is always random and beyond my ability to stop or control them. Once I submit myself to my mistress, like I am about to do, I am a slave for the duration.
Even though the time limit is random, I have spent many hours totally bound, gagged and abused by the mistress-bot, and have had to call in to work to apologise. In the end, I have had to become a freelance consultant due to my continued absences from work, the mistress-bot not caring about my schedule, treating me like the submissive slave girl that I had always been deep inside, she truly was what I needed in my life, and I don’t regret the path I have taken.
But let me get back to being ready for my mistress-bot; I can hear her footsteps down the hallway, I need to be in place, or the punishment will be much, much stricter. A naughty slave-girl needs to be punished, sometimes a very wicked slave will try to defy her mistress just to suffer a crueller, much harsher punishment. Sometimes I think that I deserve that, then later, after the pain has subsided, I wonder why I did that, but I know that I will be wanting to do it all over again.
Lowering myself onto my knees, the collar feels tight around my throat, but there is no time to adjust it now; my mistress is on the other side of the door to the playroom. And she will expect me to wear her collar as restrictive as possible and will check to see if I have complied. Now let me get myself ready and in place, my knees on the floor, check, my head down, check. I can hear the door opening, and the first vision of my mistress-bot’s boots come into view, shiny as I remember them.
While I was getting myself ready for my session, the maidbot had stopped what it was doing and returned to its room, not to recharge, though I suspect that with some longer sessions, it would need that extra power. But normally, it was to change from the maid outfit that it wore during the day and into the mistress persona that I desired. The choice of clothing she wore was random, just like the severity of my upcoming time with the mistress-bot, and I didn’t know just what she would be dressed in.
The playroom, or dungeon, or whatever it is for my fevered mind to imagine, is just a spare room that wasn’t being used; I converted it and added some things that my mistress finds useful to punish or bind this poor slave, and treat her as should be right for someone so loathsome like me. Seeking ideas online when setting up the room, I found inspiration from several places, but ultimately my preferences for some form of punishment made me buy the set of stocks, plus a punishment bench, for those times when my mistress thinks I need to be strapped down and paddled, making sure that I am firmly gagged to stifle my cries. There are other things that allow me to be safely stored away afterward, bound tightly and enclosed in some form of containment like my old trunk, now restored to be able to be locked.
The sight of my mistress’s boots brings me back to the here and now; I must worship them before she gets angry with me. I know that I must take my time and clean them with my tongue; failure will result in further punishment, along with any hesitation on my part to comply with her orders. I hold my hands behind my back as if tied in place, wishing that they were, but I know that soon they will be, I will have to wait; this is just part of my initial submission to my mistress and something that I love.
You may be asking yourself at this point what happened between my last tale and now; well several things have changed for me, not least my work, but also finding myself and who I really am. I knew deep down that I loved to be bound, tied, and gagged by others, and the fact of the matter was that there was no one that really knew what I wanted, even myself, until I found my submissive side through giving myself to the mistress-bot that now controls my life.
It was just by chance that I mentioned one day to the service technician about using the maidbot for my self-bondage sessions. I had managed to wear out some mechanical parts by getting the maidbot to put me away in not only the trunk but then getting it to store the trunk inside of a cupboard. The weight I guess, wore out some of its components, and he had asked me what had caused it to happen. I could have lied about it, but I felt guilty for hurting the maidbot with my perverse desires, and told him of my using the maidbot to control me.
He didn’t seem that fazed when I told him, which surprised me, but he said that he often comes across maidbots and other robotic servants being used in some form or another beyond their design parameters. He then told me about the other programming that, while not officially endorsed, was available to the customer but not advertised. Getting more details from him opened my eyes to the possibilities that I could have using the maidbot, and I knew that I had to have the upgrade added to my machine.
After fixing up the damage that I had caused, he then had me sign a waiver that indemnifies the company and himself from any issues or problems that may ensue from my misuse of the original product, now about to be adapted to more suit my particular needs. Once the paperwork was out of the way, it was then simply connecting the maidbot to the required programming, updating and adding the new features. I added my own desires and parameters, including the randomness of the scenarios that I would be placing myself into, and the degree that I could be made to comply, through punishment, abuse and torment.
The technician warned me that once the programming was in place and running, that I was giving up my control over the maidbot, she would become my new mistress; it would continue without any preventable measure from me; in effect, I could not stop until the random time had ceased, I was at the whims of my overindulgent desire to be controlled and used. He did suggest that I should have a safe-word that I could use should the need arrive, but I knew that I would mostly be gagged at those times anyway, so there was no real need from my point of view, but to please the technician, I reluctantly agreed.
That first day was my awakening; I had found my true place it seemed; as soon as the technician had left, I immediately switched the maidbot over to my mistress-bot. I just had to find out that I had made the right choice. And indeed, I found out that I had, I was punished for being dressed in her presence, and also not being presented to her in my slave position. Not having the right equipment back then, I was bent over the edge of the dining table, and soundly spanked for non-compliance, using one of my running shoes that I had left lying about the place, expecting the maidbot to clean and put them away for me. Now my new mistress was beating me with it, all the while berating me for being such a messy slave and not cleaning the apartment to her standards.
The rest of that day, in between rubbing my sore bottom, I was dressed in the maidbot’s outfit, and she dressed in my own clothes; I had become the maid and her servant. It has become one of my favorite scenarios with her, and although I still have control of my functions, movements, and such, I still have to follow her commands when the roles are reversed. That was just how I had wanted it to be for me, and I felt that I had found my place.
My mistress is happy with the way I had presented myself to her this evening, my worshipping of her boots has gone well, and she was now happy to move on to other things. Of course, she indicated this by grabbing my hair and making me crawl across the playroom floor on my knees and hands. After all, she is my cruel mistress, and I would not expect anything less. I could see that she was taking me over to the punishment bench; I guess that I will soon be tightly bound and being punished for something; what that is, I don’t yet know; the program will randomly pick something, usually failure on my part and further humiliation for some action or other.
I lay there as my mistress ran the straps to hold me firmly down on the top of the bench. The cold wooden surface brought out my nipples to their aroused state, or was that just pure excitement on my part at being treated this way? She then added the straps around my ankles, fixing them in place to the bench legs, and my wrists were soon fixed to the other two legs. My mistress was thorough in making sure that she made them as tight as possible. No leniency on her part.
She returned after leaving me bound for a few minutes; I was adjusting my body to get myself ready for what was coming and felt her hand spank my rear, commanding me to stop wriggling, adding the word ‘worm’ to her comment about me, making me feel less of a person and much lower in status. I saw the ballgag in my vision and knew that I should open my mouth wide; that gag would be forced in place should I resist my mistress in any way, and it was easier from past experience to give myself to her.
Now I was bound and gagged, she began. It seemed that I hadn’t cleaned the bathroom properly yesterday; I had spent one of my days off relaxing as a maid while following her commands, dressed again as the maid of the house, with my mistress lounging in my pajamas roleplaying being an obnoxious owner, demanding and unforgiving. She told me that I had missed several spots in my cleaning, but rather than make me do them again; she had stored the information away for my next punishment session, which was now.
As I have said previously, the maidbots learn from their experiences with their owners, and mine has adapted well into the roles that I require from her, as my mistress and sometimes owner. Yes, I play at being a maidbot sometimes, though again, I don’t have the control element that a true robot servant would have; maybe the technician on his next visit may have something that would help me experience that. So my mistress, having inspected my cleaning, had judged it not up to her standards and had stored away the information to use in our next session.
Yes, I am a slut for being submissive; I admit that, and I feel the need to experience the loss of control that had for so long been missing in my life. That’s why I submit to my mistress-bot every evening, and she takes command of me, and then there are the weekends, some where I remain the maid for the entire weekend or as her submissive slave. I can be tied, or gagged for the whole two days, or even bagged and stored away for the night, and sometimes longer. I crave being treated this way, and I have given up most social interaction to be under her command.
Back to my current punishment, she started out lightly to warm up my rear, the gag holding back my cries with each strike of the leather paddle that she was using on me. It’s not as painful as the riding crop that she will be using after. I guess that will be what she will do afterward; having experienced being on the receiving end of her punishments many times, I knew the difference between them, the exquisite pain that I received from the paddle giving over to the crueller, more intense suffering with the crop, the strikes feel much harder, even when being punished with the bondage as a maid.
But tonight we have a new piece of bondage equipment to try; I was looking forward to being placed onto it, having seen many pictures online and then finding someone willing to make it for my exact requirements, it had cost a fair amount of money, but I consider it a worthwhile investment. Knowing how much I will be enjoying the many hours bound to it. This version of the bondage device was unique and had additions designed by me, and made by a metal worker I contacted, who specialised in bondage items; they are very expensive, probably out of most people's personal financial range for 'play items'. Luckily, I had come into some extra finances through my contracts.
My mistress was expected to use this in our play tonight, and I had added it to our equipment in her menu, so I knew that she would want to try it, as with every new item that I added, my mistress would want to learn how to use it on me. Once we had played with things a few times, it became more random, so I had no idea when she would use that item on me again. But first, back to my current punishment.
Now that she had used both the paddle and the crop on my rear, she moved up my body, her hands found my hanging breasts and my exposed nipples, and soon they were fully standing out loud and proud; my girls joined me in my punishment when my mistress attached metal clamps to them, the teeth of them biting into my soft flesh. The hurt, while intense at first, gave way to that delightful expression of pain/pleasure that I so craved. My mistress knew just how to treat this submissive painslut. I grunted into my gag when she closed the clamps on my poor nipples.
Next, she started with the crop again, this time on my breasts. This was intense pain, not something that I enjoyed as such but had to endure; it was out of my hands; I had submitted myself to her and was being used as she saw fit. Though she soon stopped and moved on to other things, I lay there wondering what would come next. I could only see the floor from where she had bound me at this moment, so I could only see her boots as she stepped around my bound body.
I heard my mistress getting something ready, I believe that this was the new equipment that we would be using, but first, my mistress had some other form of punishment and degradation in mind for my bound and abused body. I felt her presence behind me and then the tip of something cold probing between my legs, seeking out my exquisite flower for some further abuse. It was when I felt the pressure give way and the shaft enter into me that I now realised that my mistress had changed into wearing one of the strapon devices that I had bought last time.
Laying there as I felt my body being plundered by my mistress, the shaft of the strapon finally finding the upper reaches of my pleasure hole, my mistress disallowed me to call it anything else. I was just an object to be used and mistreated, and any pleasure that I gained from her actions would ultimately result in further punishment should I disobey her commands to hold myself back and not to orgasm until she allowed me to. Such was the control that she now had over me.
Eventually, I was commanded by her to climax, calling me a pitiful attention whore, not deserving of any pleasure from her, totally adding to my denigration and causing me to climax even harder. I lay there slowly simpering in my own submissive state as my mistress withdrew the long phallus she had used on me, leaving me feeling empty and wishing that she would use me some more.
But I didn’t have long to wait until I was to experience something spearing back into my insides. My mistress began to untie me from the bench, though I wasn’t going to be free for too long, it seemed. She dragged me over to the next device that I was going to experience this night; this was the new bondage device that I had bought, and one that I really was looking forward to trying.
The light reflected from the chrome stand, and the pole that stood up from the centre of the base brought my vision to the top; there attached was the same dildo that I had just experienced strapped to my mistress, only now firmly fixed to the pole. My mistress commanded me to stand with my feet on either side of the pole; as I did as instructed, my inner thighs touched the still moist phallus that was covered in my own juices, though now cooler from being out of my inner furnace.
Now she ordered me to spread my legs, bending herself down to adjust the height of the pole, pushing it upwards until it met the slight resistance of the outer parts of my pleasure hole, but soon with some effort on her part, the thing was again deep within my innards. Then locking the pole in place once she was satisfied that she had it entirely inside of me, causing me some pain as it reached my upper limits. Then she adjusted it some more, making me stand on tiptoe, and she finally seemed content that she could go no further without causing serious injury, which her programming would not allow, even I couldn’t override that.
Now that part was over; I felt her begin to attach the metal cuffs around my ankles; these were attached to the pole by a locking mechanism, adjustable to whatever height was needed. Now secured in place, I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. I was stuck with just the pole firmly planted deep within my sex, but the addition of the metal cuffs made it certain that there was no way for me to get free until my mistress allowed otherwise.
But she didn’t stop there, nor did my overactive, sexually deviant mind when designing the device; what came next was a metal collar around my neck, locked in place and holding my head so that I could only look forward. Then she grabbed each wrist and brought them behind me. I knew that there were also metal cuffs waiting for my wrists and allowed her to place me in them, not that I had any choice in the matter. I was truly her plaything for her to use and abuse.
I felt the cold metal encircle my wrists, then heard the final clicking of the locking mechanism, and I was now firmly bound to the device. I had seen it referred to as a ‘one-bar prison’ online, but that was too simple for me, so I had to add to my suffering and have the cuffs and collar added. But there was also something else special about my design, one that I could use in my self-bondage play, that was whenever I had the chance, which was rare these days. But as a safety backup, the locking mechanism was magnetic; once power was applied, the locks worked, securing me in place until the attached timer cut the power and the cuffs opened, allowing me to escape my bondage.
This would also work with my bondage scenarios with my mistress-bot; she would bind me after punishing and abusing me, then she would leave me bound on the pole, setting the timer to whatever was chosen by the random programming, allowing me to enjoy my bondage without knowing when I would be released. Ultimately my final release would be when the maidbot returned the next morning, the mistress program relinquishing control back to the maidbot; that was the final part of the bondage scene, and in a way my safety net, the maidbot had now learned to untie me when it found me bound.
But back to my mistress, who now seemed very happy with the new device, making a few final adjustments and setting the controls, which were out of my sight on the rear of the pole I was fixed in place to. I felt like a store dummy standing there waiting to be put on display, but to add to my humiliation, my mistress returned and brought over some lipstick, which I thought was odd as I was currently sporting a large ballgag in my mouth. But then she started to write across my breast with the lipstick, with words like ‘whore’, ‘painslut’ and ‘fuckdoll’. And to round it off, the word ‘slut’ was written on my forehead.
She then wheeled the device over to a full-sized mirror so that I could take in my final degradation of the evening. Though as I looked at my reflection, all I could see was one very happy, naked slavegirl, with her mistress standing by her side, dressed in her leather outfit, the light gleaming off of her magnificent body, one that I worshipped and adored. Leaving me gazing at my reflection, my thoughts were interrupted when she returned with the dreaded nipple clamps, attaching each one so that they again bit into my soft flesh; I could only stand there and endure the extra torment.
My mistress then spoke to me; she told me that she had grown bored with her slave now and would be leaving me to reflect on my behaviour, and not to disappoint her in the future, warning me that any future discrepancies would be more severely punished. What she did next sent me into my own submissive bondage slut heaven; she began moving the device stand back away from the mirror and over to the rear of the room. Here, there were fitted cupboards that were used to store the stuff not used in our sessions.
It seemed that I was also, at this point in time, a no longer used piece of equipment, according to my mistress, who said that things have to be tidied away after use as she pushed me and my stand into the cupboard. Taking one last look, she closed the door leaving me inside; the light inside the cupboard went off, leaving me in darkness. Now stuck on the pole, with the attached sextoy buried deep within me, my ankles and wrists bound by the metal cuffs and the collar around my neck forcing me to stand up straight, I felt totally like an object at this moment.
I had finally found my ultimate fantasy, one where I’m inescapably bound, firmly gagged and left, stored away like some forgotten toy, more of a machine than a human female with wants and desires, now totally ignored and left locked away until I was required again for my mistresses use and pleasure. It had taken me a while to get here, but finally, I have my own little nirvana, a place that I had always desired to be. How long I would be here was not in my hands, I had totally given control over to somebody, or rather something else. I had found my place.