...lighting, giving the space a cold, clinical feel. I glanced at the new AI-controlled collar resting on a pristine white table, reflecting the light off its polished surface. It was another marvel of technology, designed to enhance our training methodologies with unparalleled efficiency.

I grabbed the collar and felt its weight in my hands. It was heavier than I expected, a testament to the array of features crammed into such a small device. GPS, gyroscope, mic, camera, speaker—it had everything. My job was to calibrate it, ensuring it would work flawlessly when used on our "trainees." Typically, a slave would assist in this kind of testing, but none were available right now. As one of the best trainers at the firm, I was often left to my own devices. Sometimes that meant stepping into unexpected roles—like now.

Breathing deeply, I wrapped the collar around my neck and fastened it securely. The cool metal pressed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. This wasn't the first time I had tested equipment on myself, but something about this collar felt different—it felt like it was watching me the moment it clicked shut.

"Activate AI program," I commanded.

There was a brief pause, and then the collar's speaker emitted a soft chime. "AI program activated. Welcome, Trainer Sasha Grey. Please confirm the initiation of the calibration process."

"Confirmed," I said firmly, hoping my voice conveyed a confidence I didn't entirely feel.

"Begin by assuming Slave Position One: Kneeling, hands on thighs, eyes down," the AI instructed with a neutral, almost soothing voice. It couldn't have known the internal conflict simmering within me. Accustomed to giving orders, not taking them—this was already unsettling.

I knelt down and placed my hands on my thighs, feeling a slight tension in my muscles as they adjusted to the unfamiliar position. As I lowered my eyes to the floor, I felt a strange mix of vulnerability and heightened awareness.

"Position confirmed. Hold this pose for two minutes," said the AI.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely as I knelt there, my knees pressed into the cold, hard floor. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the collar's internal mechanisms. My mind wandered, contemplating the complexities and moral ambiguities of my work. Was this really for the greater good? Could technology like this ever be justified?

Two minutes felt like an eternity before the collar chimed again. "Please stand and assume Slave Position Two: Standing with hands above your head, fingers interlaced."

I complied, feeling the strain in my shoulders as I lifted my arms. Each muscle protested, but I held the position. The AI proceeded to ask questions, gradually tightening my permitted speech.

"Describe your current feelings in two sentences," it instructed.

"I feel tense and uneasy," I said. "This position is unfamiliar and uncomfortable."

"Now answer in one word: How do you feel?"

"Strained."

"Yes or no: Are you able to hold this position?"

"Yes."

I hoped this was the end, but the AI's next command sent a cold wave of dread through me. "You are now restricted from speaking. Perform the following action: Strip completely."

My heart rate shot up as I instinctively began to protest. "No, cancel the program. I can't—"

An electric shock pulsed through my neck, silencing my words with a jolt of pain. My body stiffened, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I tried to breach the speech restriction again, only to be met with another, more intense shock.

Damn it. The collar was relentless.

I sighed inwardly and began to undress, peeling off my clothes one by one. Each layer removed felt like a piece of my dignity falling away. My shirt, my pants, my undergarments until I stood there, completely exposed. The chill of the room amplified my vulnerability, and I felt my nipples harden, a fact not lost on me. This was supposed to be for calibration, but it felt disturbingly like punishment.

The collar's neutral tone interrupted my thoughts. "Retrieve the ankle cuffs from the third drawer on the left and secure them."

I walked over to the drawer, feeling the cold floor against my bare feet, and retrieved the cuffs. Securing them around my ankles, I felt the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders.

"Now, retrieve the wrist cuffs and secure them behind your back," the AI continued.

It was a struggle, but I managed to lock the cuffs around my wrists. My movements were restricted, and a sense of helplessness washed over me. What had I gotten myself into?

"Proceed to the table and take the dildo. Insert it into your vaginal canal and begin self-penetration," the AI commanded.

I felt a flush of heat rise to my face and a knot form in my stomach. This was beyond mere calibration. But the sharp memory of the electric shocks kept me compliant. I picked up the dildo from the table. It was long, firm, and cold to the touch. Kneeling on the floor, I positioned it at my entrance, feeling the intrusion as I slowly pushed it inside.

The sensation was a complicated mix of discomfort and reluctant arousal. The dildo stretched and filled me, and I began to thrust it in and out, each movement bringing a jolt of conflicting emotional and physical responses. The AI's neutral commands continued—a cold, detached presence.

"Continue self-penetration at a steady pace. Increase speed after two minutes," it instructed.

My breaths became shallow as I followed the commands. The dildo moved in and out, filling me with a mechanical rhythm. I tried to focus on the task, shutting out the raw feelings that coursed through my body.

Finally, the AI's command changed again. "Cease self-penetration. Proceed to the cage in the corner and lock yourself inside."

Panting softly, I dragged myself to the small cage. It was barely big enough to kneel in, and I had to squeeze myself into the tight space. With great difficulty, I managed to lock the cage door behind me. The confinement was stifling, and I could feel the walls closing in on me.

"Calibration complete," the AI announced, though its voice carried an almost sinister satisfaction. Suddenly, there was a strange error chime. "Trainer recognition failed. Re-registering identity: Slave Sasha Grey."

My heart sank as I realized the gravity of my actions. The system had failed to recognize me as a trainer and had instead registered me as a slave. Locked in a cage, submissive, exposed, and caught in the gears of a system I had helped maintain, I felt the cold, hard truth settle in: I was now a part of the very mechanism I had controlled.

For what felt like hours, I remained caged in the cramped, metallic prison. My body ached from the uncomfortable positions, and my mind raced as I tried to process what had just happened. The AI's error had effectively demoted me from trainer to slave, and the system had accepted this new designation without hesitation. What now? How could I reset the system, regain control?

The collar's speaker crackled to life again, interrupting my frantic thoughts. "New Master assigned: Trainer Matthew Lawson."

My heart sank further. Matthew Lawson was a rival colleague, perpetually bitter and envious of my successes. He was ruthless, cunning, and, most troublingly, he now had power over me.

Within minutes, the door to the training room swung open, and Matthew strolled in. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto my vulnerable form. The smirk on his face sent chills down my spine. He leaned casually against a table, his demeanor exuding an air of triumph.

"Well, well, well, look at what the AI dragged in," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and delight. "Sasha Grey, the company's star trainer, reduced to a slave by her own recklessness. I must say, the irony is delicious."

I bit my lower lip, fighting back the urge to scream or curse at him. The memory of the collar's electric shock was still fresh, a painful reminder to stay silent.

Matthew circled the cage, his eyes roving over my naked, cuffed body. "You see, Sasha, I've always wondered what it would be like to have you under my control. And now, fate has handed me this golden opportunity."

He opened the cage door, and I shuffled out with difficulty, bound and exposed, refusing to meet his gaze. He grabbed my chin forcefully, lifting my head so that our eyes met. "From now on, you will address me as 'Master' and follow my every command. Understand?"

My instinct was to scream "yes" at him, but I quickly caught myself, recalling the AI's restriction. Instead, I nodded, letting my eyes tell the story of my reluctant compliance.

"Good girl," he said, his smirk growing wider. He pulled a tiny remote from his pocket and pressed a button, releasing my ankle cuffs and my wrists momentarily. Before I could react, he snapped a new set of heavier, sturdier cuffs onto my wrists. They were attached to a chain connected to the ceiling, forcing my arms above my head and leaving me suspended and vulnerable.

Matthew stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Now, let's see what this new slave of mine has to offer."

He began to grope my breasts, his hands moving roughly, squeezing and kneading the sensitive flesh. I felt a mix of anger, humiliation, and an involuntary arousal that I desperately tried to suppress. His fingers found my nipples, pinching them hard enough to send jolts of pain shooting through my body.

"You're quite the find, Sasha. All these years, hidden beneath that professional exterior was a submissive slut waiting to be exposed."

He moved lower, his fingers exploring my inner thighs before roughly pushing them apart. My pussy, still wet from the earlier self-penetration, betrayed my emotions. He ran a finger along my slit, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

"Look at how wet you are," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and superiority. "It seems like you're enjoying this more than you care to admit."

Before I could react, he thrust two fingers inside me, curling them to find my G-spot. I gasped, but the threat of electric shock kept me silent. He moved his fingers expertly, tormenting me with a mix of pleasure and pain.

Seconds turned into minutes as he continued to finger me, his free hand now groping my breast, squeezing and pinching the nipple with ruthless precision.

"Remember, if you speak, I'll have the collar shock you. So make sure to stay silent like the good little slave you are," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I tried to comply, powerless against his relentless assault on my senses. My body reacted against my will, spasming and tightening around his fingers. It was a cruel mix of humiliation and unwilling pleasure that left me teetering on the edge of sanity.

Finally, he withdrew his fingers. "You're going to cum for me, Sasha," he said, positioning himself between my legs. He unbuckled his pants, revealing his throbbing erection. Before I could fully process what was happening, he rammed his cock into me, filling me completely.

I bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood to stifle the cry that built up in my throat. The rhythm of his thrusts was fast and merciless, each one sending waves of force through my body. He gripped my hips tightly, using them as leverage to pound into me harder.

My mind went blank, overridden by a cocktail of conflicting emotions. The chains clinked with each thrust, adding to the cacophony of my torment and the slap of skin against skin.

As his pace quickened, I could feel my body betraying me again. The building tension in my core grew unbearable, and despite my best efforts, I could feel the orgasm approaching, inevitable and uninvited.

"Cum for me, slave," he commanded, his breath ragged and voice commanding.

It was as though my body took his words as an order. The orgasm washed over me in a humiliating wave, my muscles convulsing and my pussy clenching around his cock. I felt hot tears of shame stream down my face, knowing that he had forced this response from me.

Matthew continued to fuck me through my orgasm, his own climax building. With a few final thrusts, he groaned, releasing himself inside me. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, before pulling out and stepping back.

"You see, Sasha, this is your new place. Beneath me, serving me, and obeying me without question or hesitation."

He released the chain that kept my wrists suspended, and I crumpled to the floor, exhausted and humiliated. With my wrists still cuffed, I had little ability to shield myself from any further commands or assaults.

"Get into the cage," he ordered, pointing to the small prison that had become my sanctum of degradation.

I obeyed, slowly crawling into the cage and locking the door behind me. Matthew grinned, clearly satisfied with his work. "You'll stay here until I decide otherwise. Enjoy your new position, slave."

As he left the room, closing the door behind him, I huddled in the cage, the cold metal pressing against my naked skin. My new reality sank in with a terrifying finality. Stripped of my autonomy and dignity, I was now at the mercy of a man who had always despised me. My position as a trainer, my independence, were now cruelly distant memories in the surreal nightmare I found myself imprisoned in.

Would there ever be a way out? Or was this the reality I had to now accept? As tears continued to fall, a part of me couldn't help but wonder what the next horrid instructions might be and how long before I could reclaim who I once was, if I even could.

For now, I was Sasha Grey: just a collared slave in the unyielding grip of a jealous and merciless master.

Kinks: Stockholm Syndrome, gaslighting, manipulation, positive and negative reinforcement, unaware, training, submissive, bondage, slavery, dubcon, tricked. More kinks and my limits on my page