ACRE

Paul stared at the spec sheet in his hand, disbelief writ large on his face. The project was on the wrong side of insane, a fact that he communicated to his boss in no uncertain terms.

Hiram Lofton, founder and owner of Apex Engineering Solutions, fixed his chief designer with a withering glare.

“Paul, there are ten million good reasons why we’re going to take this commission. Ten percent of those reasons are yours if we can have a working prototype ready for demo in six months.”

Paul sighed. He knew better than to argue with Hiram. He was a great boss, usually, except when he let his avarice convince him to take on side projects like this.

“All right, Boss. But this is going to live in the Restricted Section of Mobile Autonomous. I don’t want anyone accidentally falling afoul of what I’m going to build.”

Hiram waved his hand, the specifics were always better left to his project manager.

“Your project, your lab. Run it like you want to. First reports are due in two months.”

Paul knew he was being excused. Standing, he exited the office, already on the phone with his programming team.

-- Five and a half months later --

Susan tapped her fingers impatiently as the phone rang. She counted five rings and waited for the voice mail to pick up. Surprisingly, though, the individual she was hoping to reach answered.

“Mobile Autonomous, Paul speaking.” An undercurrent of fatigue ran through his voice, and Susan felt a pang of empathy.

“Paul, it’s Susan. From Accounts,” she clarified, sensing that he was having trouble placing her.

“Susan! You’re calling about the end of month summaries.” Paul cursed himself silently, knowing that she’d left four voicemails over the past week reminding him to have his section’s figures in for the end of month wrap up.

“I can come down to the lab deck if you’re busy,” she offered helpfully.

“No, no! It’s okay, I’ve got them but I’m about to start a testing sequence. It won’t take long, maybe forty minutes. Will you still be in the office?”

Susan glanced at the clock and winced. It was already quarter after five. If she got the paperwork at six, it would take her half an hour to enter. That meant she would miss the six thirty train and would have to wait until seven fifteen. She really didn’t have an option, though. The reports were due and because of the holiday weekend no one would be in the office tomorrow or Monday.

“Sure, no problem!” she lied cheerfully, “I’ll be in my office, drop them off whenever you’re finished.”

“Thanks, Susan, you’re a lifesaver!” Paul hung up and Susan replaced her handset in its cradle. Slipping off her pumps, she stretched backwards in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Leaning down, she rubbed her calves through the sheen of her nylons. She’d stayed for the bonus yoga class after her crossfit session last night, and the twinges in her muscles definitely let her know that she’d better take it easy for the next couple of workouts. She was pleased with her progress, though, after only three months she’d already slimmed down by five kilos and had more energy and was sleeping better.

Despite her aggressive workout routine, she had little desire to lose all of her curves. She just wanted a little less of a muffin top. At 168 centimeters and 77 kilos she was just a bit fluffier than she liked. Another five kilos and she’d be happy. Another ten and she’d be ecstatic, but that seemed unlikely. She was far too fond of the late night ice cream snacks and Saturday night pub runs, she didn’t want to completely crimp her lifestyle just to drop the weight.

Sighing, Susan zoomed her mouse over her desktop, half-heartedly clicking on a few tabs in her browser. Nothing was going on to interest her, though, she’d already spent the better part of the afternoon indulging in the latest gossip on her favorite shows and celebrities. Now, with the office all but deserted, she was stuck alone waiting for Paul to deliver his department’s paperwork.

Ohhhhhh. Susan poked her head up over her cubicle walls and glanced around. She really was alone! With a crafty grin, she fished her iPhone out from her purse and tapped open her browser. While her office computer might be monitored, her phone was free from company eavesdropping. She paged through her bookmarks until she found her favorite story site, Gromet’s Plaza. Settling in, she began to read.

---

Susan ran a hand through her hair, sighing. She glanced at the clock, wondering where Paul was. The time read six twenty.

“Shit!” she cursed out loud, dropping her phone into her purse and dialing the lab deck again. This time the call rang through to voicemail. She slammed the phone back into its cradle. With a sigh, she slipped her feet back into her pumps, and headed towards the elevators.

Five minutes later found her on the lab deck, checking the map for the Mobile Autonomous lab. Finding it, she cursed again, not realizing that it was in the restricted section of the lab. Her badge didn’t have the right permissions for access. Now she was well and truly screwed.

“Susan? What are you still doing here?”

Turning, Susan saw Lacey coming down the hall towards her. Lacey was one of the building security guards, and a close friend of Susan’s from her University days. Today, the blonde agent wore a bulky tactical vest over her normal form-fitting khaki jumpsuit.

“Oh hi, Lacey. I’ve been trying to get a hold of the end of month figures for one of the robotics departments and their chief engineer was supposed to drop them off at six but it looks like he split. And I can’t even get in to his office because it’s in the restricted section. What’s with the getup?”

“We’re running a security drill. Just about everyone is gone for the holiday weekend so it seemed like a good time to do it. You don’t want to be stuck here for it because we’ll be randomly shutting down elevators and disabling access to doors in order to test our security protocols.” Lacey shook her head in concern, glancing up and down the corridor.

“Shit!” swore Susan again. “Look, you’ve got access, can you get me into the restricted lab? I just need to check the office for those numbers, it’ll only take me a minute!”

Lacey hesitated, frowning.

“Please?” pleaded Susan.

“All right,” her friend relented, pulling her keycard from one of the pockets of her jumpsuit. “But be quick about it. I’ve got to get down to the south elevator bank, but I’ll be back this way in about ten minutes or so. You’d better be gone by then.”

“Thanks, Lacey, you’re the greatest!” Susan hugged her friend. “I’ll be in and out before you’re even down the hall.”

Lacey chuckled, sliding her card through the reader and holding the door so Susan could slip inside. “Ten minutes!” she called after her.

Susan waved away her friend’s concern. She would be in and out in less than a minute, she just needed to find Paul’s workstation. The lab deck was an industrial space, off-white walls of reinforced concrete and plain gray floors surfaced with a grip enhanced polymer. The workstations were clustered in circles of three, the desktops curving around a wide central pillar of power and data cables that snaked into the overhead grids.

In her search, Susan ignored the multitude of prototype systems mounted and spaced throughout the area. She did so at her own risk, though, since the restricted area was where the engineering section kept their projects that required the observation of increased safeguards.

Spotting Paul’s desk she made a beeline for it, ignoring the large drone hooked up to the test stand adjacent to the workspace. It was clearly an agricultural robot of some kind, it had an oversized bulky body and low chassis mounted on a pair of rubber caterpillar treads, and across its front glacis plate was stenciled A.C.R.E.

Unfortunately for Susan, ACRE was not a farm drone. Rather, it stood for Autonomous Capture, Restraint, and Enslavement. Paul was in the final stages of prototype development, well on his way to making the deadline set by the investor. The final series of diagnostics and updates would be run over the long weekend and the drone would be ready for its last battery of tests on Tuesday. Part of the umbilical apparatus required some of ACRE’s access panels to be removed, and its external speaker to be disabled. This is why Susan didn’t hear the drone’s broadcast warning as she crossed into its acquisition range.

<<Warning! You have been targeted for restraint and enslavement! Select a safeword immediately!>>

Unmindful of the drone coming to life behind her, Susan sorted through the papers on the desk, quickly finding the reports she was looking for.

“Perfect!” she smiled to herself.

<<Safeword has been recorded. Acknowledge that you are ready to begin.>>

ACRE silently unfolded its primary capture array, waiting for its prey to signal in the affirmative. Susan tucked the report under her arm and turned towards the door.

“All right! Now let’s get – uuhhurk!”

ACRE struck as soon as its audio processor received Susan’s statement, the main arm snapping forward to close about her waist, hauling her back and up onto the drone’s deck. Susan flailed in surprise, the papers of the report fluttering to the labdeck floor as she grasped the heavy ring of padded metal that held her prisoner. Four more arms reached out, spider quick, their grip hands closing about her wrists and ankles. Machinery whirred to life as the arms slid out on tracks, and in seconds Susan found herself hanging spread-eagled above the drone. Solid armatures folded out, locking the arms in place, forming a square with Susan in the middle of it.

More machinery came to silent life, manipulator arms unfolding from recessed storage mounts. ACRE waited, watching with its multitude of optical and infrared sensors as its prey began going through the predicted responses to capture.

Susan tugged futilely at the steel encircling her wrists, opening her mouth to cry out.

“HELP! HE – URGH!” A smaller pair of manipulator arms whipped around her head and inserted some kind of plastic frame into her mouth. Her rear molars settled into grooves on the frame, while cross bars kept her tongue depressed. The whole frame was solid, though, wedging her mouth open as wide as it could go. Susan’s eyes went wide as the arms pulled her head back, holding it in place so a snake-like tentacle could insert itself into her throat.

Her scream of terror was cut short by the tube entering her throat, and ACRE used the micro cameras in the blunt rounded tip of the tentacle probe to guide it quickly and accurately down her esophagus and into her stomach. Once there, a donut like balloon of plastic expanded, trapping it in place and preventing Susan from dislodging it through her vomit reflex. Susan gagged, coughing at the sudden and abrupt violation, but the machine tentacle was well designed, accomplishing its mission regardless of her efforts to expel it.

The metal probe withdrew, leaving only the plastic outer shell behind. A large gag plug descended down the exterior of the tube, passing Susan’s wide, panicked eyes, before settling into her mouth. The gag mated with the frame already wedged between her teeth, completely filling her mouth, with grooves for her front teeth to fit into, and a wide panel covered her face from her nose to her chin.

Simultaneously with that, she heard what sounded like a vacuum start up behind her, and felt her hair sucked into something. ACRE was programmed with several options when dealing with hair of various length. Susan’s hair passed its minimum braiding length criteria, so it employed a unitary braiding arm. The arm sucked the hair into a hollow tube with a strong vacuum before parting it using smaller manipulators into three equal parts. The smaller manipulators quickly braided the lengths together, weaving in a piece of the polymer-reinforced canvas that ACRE used to construct all its restraints. The material had been specifically developed for the drone to use, and it held several dozen rolls, over two thousand meters in all.

While this was going on, the two manipulator arms that held her head in place grasped the trailing edges of the gag panel, unrolling two wide bands of canvas around her head. The arms pulled the band of fabric tight, crushing the gag panel against Susan’s lips, before sealing the ends together and trimming the excess. Now she could be fed and watered without risk of asphyxiation.

The hair braiding arm finished and retracted quickly, along with the two manipulators responsible for the gagging. For a moment, Susan was unmolested, and she once more tried to shake her head or make some cry for help. To her dismay, only a hiss of air escaped the panel gagging her. A sharp buzzing started all of a sudden, and she looked up to see several arms descending towards her. They moved quickly, each one using a device that looked like a metal V. One leg of the V was placed against the skin of her arm, just beneath where her blouse ended.

A sudden fear struck her, and she thrashed against the restraints. ACRE was built to withstand the panicked struggles of a rhino, its manipulator arms and restraints massively over-engineered for human prey. The clippers went to work, and Susan wept as her clothes were reduced to shreds that drifted down to litter the main deck of the robot.

Naked now, she shivered in the cool air of the labdeck, goosebumps rising on her skin. More devices whirred to life, and fear shot through her at what the machine was going to subject her to next. A long bar started at her feet and traversed her body, illuminating it with a gridwork of green lines. Susan wasn’t sure what it meant, but she had a sinking feeling she was going to find out.

As she twisted and fought against the mechanical arms restraining her, she could feel conflicting emotions bubbling to life. Her indignant rage at having her clothes destroyed was being slowly superseded by an insidious arousal. Some of her favorite stories on Gromet’s Plaza dealt with women falling afoul of machines, unintentionally finding themselves in compromising situations. She’d never imagined that she’d find herself in the reality that she’d fantasized about!

ACRE’s measurements were complete. Susan didn’t see the second scanning bar which paralleled the first only on her dorsal side. This allowed the drone to construct a 3D model in its memory, and begin to manufacture custom fitted restraints for its subject. The processing arms went to work, spooling out lines of reinforced canvas, sealing them together and adding laces and straps. Simultaneously, the 3D printer located on ACRE’s rear deck spun to life. The print heads drew from an onboard store of fiber-reinforced synthetic, rapidly building up a plain white posture collar.

The first restraints completed were a pair of gloves with attached wrist braces. A series of manipulator arms grasped Susan’s hands, holding her fingers out and aligned while the gloves were slipped on. Nothing she could do slowed the progress of the arms, and soon she found herself unable to bend her hands or even wiggle her fingers. The wrist braces protected the delicate nerves and bones while simultaneously rendering her even more helpless.

The heavy restraining arms whirred to life again, steadily pulling Susan’s arms down and together behind her back. She fought with all her strength but quickly tired, the hydraulics and myomeric muscles of the drone easily controlling her. The gag in her mouth reduced her pleas for help to nothing more than angry hissing. Over the tight panel sealing off her lips, Susan’s eyes cast frantically about, desperate for some release from her predicament. She couldn’t deny her growing excitement, though, her nipples hard in the cool, dry lab air, and a noticeable moisture between her thighs.

With her arms pinned behind her, the drone’s manipulators sealed the two wrist braces together. Moving up, they wrapped a thick band of canvas around her biceps, tightening it until the torsion sensors indicated that the limit of the subject’s flexibility was reached. Unfortunately for Susan, her yoga practice meant that her flexibility limit was when her elbows met behind her back. She moaned in despair as she felt the restraint sealed tight, rolling her shoulders back to try and easy some of the strain from the position. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes, though, that she realized how her current posture thrust her breasts out, making them appear even larger than their usual D-cup size.

ACRE continued to work, heedless of its prey’s discomfort. The posture collar was secured around her neck, the two halves welded tight by the application of an industrial laser. Susan could no longer move her head to see what was happening to her, and she whined in growing dread. Next came a single sleeve armbinder, slipped up her arms until it rested above her biceps. Manipulator arms drew the edges together where they were sealed by the laser, further restraining her arms. Broad straps flowed up over her shoulders before crossing her chest and meeting the restraint behind her back.

The drone paused at this point, and Susan prayed that it had completed whatever diabolical program she’d managed to trip. Unfortunately, such was not the case. ACRE reconfigured her position, heavy duty arms sliding out on tracks and locking into position. Soon Susan found herself bent in half, her torso parallel to the floor, while a bar at her waist kept her legs vertical and spread. Realizing what a vulnerable position she was in, and she renewed her struggles, a dreadful anticipation coiling within her.

ACRE ignored her struggles, its 3D printer still hard at work. While it waited for the remaining restraints to be constructed, it executed the biological preparation portion of its capture routine. Another module swung out from within its framework, a blunt, rounded metallic tentacle emerging from within. A laser grid illuminated the rounded globes of Susan’s ass, the muscles there bouncing under tension as she fought her restraints. The tentacle paused for a moment, glistening with lubrication as it tracked her movements. Then, when the target was aligned, it speared forward.

Susan let out a silent shout of surprise, her eyes going wide as the slim tentacle poked inside her rectum. The unexpected intrusion and momentary pain froze her for precious seconds, and the tentacle flowed a further ten centimeters into her ass. A rubber bladder along its length inflated, creating a tight seal that her muscles couldn’t push out.

Before she could stop herself, a low, sensual moan rolled off her tongue, silent behind the vicious panel gag. Her earlier arousal turned the discomfort of the anal plug into a wave of pleasurable humiliation, her ass clenching around the neck of the probe, the heavy rubber bladder creating a delightful fullness.

The next sensation brought another silent moan to her lips. Warm water was flowing through the plug and into her ass! The machine was giving her an enema! Knowing it was fruitless, but driven to resistance regardless, Susan gave a series of token jerks against the arms imprisoning her before slumping in defeat. As her ass slowly filled with the cleaning solution, she squirmed in discomfort, mewling, pleading sounds escaping from behind the gag.

She was so focused on this indignation that she missed the continuing restraint of the rest of her body until it was too late. ACRE had removed her shoes and fabricated a new set of footwear for her. These were skeletal braces, similar to what was locked around her wrists, except these encased her entire foot, forcing them into an arched position as if she were wearing fifteen centimeter heels! The braces had individual bands that slipped over her toes as well, further eliminating any movement she was capable of. Susan groaned as the muscles in her calves protested the shoes, knowing that the ache would only grow until she was able to release herself from their painful grasp.

Susan was slowly coming to grips with the multitude of sensations flooding her body, none of which were particularly pleasant. She saw a pair of manipulator arms move into view beneath her, and she followed their progress with trepidation. Reaching her dangling breasts, they drew a narrow band of the synthetic hypoallergenic canvas around the base of each, pulling it tight and sealing it in place. The restriction immediately caused her breasts to swell, and as the arms moved beneath her, Susan realized how sensitive her nipples were going to be. She moaned in despair, knowing now that the devilish machine would not let them escape its attention.

Sure enough, the arms quickly returned with a new set of attachments, pale plastic suction cups which attached themselves to her breasts. Susan gasped in surprise as the gentle suction from each massaged her nipples. They were incredibly sensitive, and after all the discomfort she’d been subjected to, the pleasure was intense.

It was not to last, though, as the suction quickly ramped up to painful levels, and Susan squeezed her eyes shut, tears once again leaking out as first one, then the other nipple was sucked through a narrow collar. Mercifully, the suction cut off, the arms dropping away and retracting now that their task was complete. Susan glanced down but she couldn’t see the results of their work. She could feel it, though, a narrow band seated against the base of her nipple, squeezing it with a relentless pressure. What she couldn’t feel, though, were the electrodes embedded on either side of the nipple collars, nor the gossamer thin power cables leading away from them.

The enema solution in her ass was making itself known again, her stomach feeling bloated and crampy. Susan no longer struggled as it was uniquely painful to have the fluid slosh around inside her. Rather she simply hung in her restraints, her body awash in conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure, waiting for whatever would happen next.

Blessedly, the next step in the program was the enema evacuation. ACRE began a slight suction through the probe in her ass, draining the fluid away. At the same time the restraint arms moved slightly as well, angling her upright to ease the flow of water out. Susan sighed in relief, closing her eyes and letting herself expel the fluid. After a few minutes, she felt the probe collapse and withdraw, grateful to have it gone. Her relief was to be short lived, though.

With its prey upright once again, ACRE recommenced its restraint program. First came the corset, built from the drone’s canvas and reinforced with formed synthetic stays, it slithered around Susan’s waist. The manipulator arms quickly ran a plastic coated wire lace through the grommets before beginning to work the slack out of it. Susan gasped at the vice-like pressure crushing her waist, her breaths becoming shallow, wheezing pants. ACRE halted before the corset was completely closed, satisfied for the moment with just a five centimeter reduction on her waist. During her captivity, the corset would continue to constrict, eventually enforcing a ten centimeter reduction.

The purr of more manipulator arms moving announced the arrival of the next restraint, and Susan slumped in her bonds. What more can it do to me? she wondered. The answer came all too soon. A wide belt was secured over the corset crushing her waist, and from its center dangled another curved piece. Susan felt lubricant misted over her pussy and ass, having just enough time to recognized it for what it was before ACRE seated the plugs in her chastity belt home. This elicited another near silent moan of arousal and despair from the restrained girl. The thick, ribbed dildo slid easily into her pussy, stretching her wide and coming to rest uncomfortably against her cervix. She writhed in discomfort as the anal plug made its way into her tight sphincter, chest heaving in response to the relentless intrusion. The small tip of the plug swelled dramatically before finally narrowing to a thin stem, and when it was finally seated she shivered in relief.

ACRE pulled the crotch panel of the belt tight before welding it in place, the thick plastic spreading the rounded cheeks of her ass and ensuring both plugs were pushed tightly inside her. Again, what Susan couldn’t feel yet were the multiple electrodes spaced throughout the belt, clustered heavily within both plugs as well as the twin rails that ran on either side of her clit, pinching the tender button ever so slightly.

An ultra thin tentacle snaked forward out of one of ACRE’s arms, finding the port at the front of the chastity belt and pushing inside. Using a tiny camera on the tip, the drone positioned the tentacle at the entrance to Susan’s urethra. The tentacle began to secrete a thin gel that was a combination anesthetic and sanitizer. Slowly, carefully, it penetrated the narrow opening, disappearing inside her until it could seat itself inside her bladder.

Susan squirmed in her restraints, not sure what exactly was happening, only knowing that it was uniquely uncomfortable. It was finished quickly, though, the tentacle withdrawing and leaving the plastic tube of the catheter behind. Another, thicker tube was connected to the base of the butt plug. She didn’t know it, yet, but during her captivity she would receive regular enemas: for hygiene, pleasure, and punishment.

Susan closed her eyes and trembled, her body imprisoned by the multiply redundant restraints, her mouth silenced, her most intimate places violated. She was living a simultaneous nightmare and fantasy. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the clock, praying that it was almost time for Lacey to return. Barely five minutes had elapsed since her entry onto the labdeck.

ACRE was now moving into its final stage of restraint and containment. With the chastity belt in place, it connected Susan’s ankle and foot restraints together, as well as sealing wide bands of canvas around her calves just below her knees, above her knees, and her thighs, just below her crotch.

Working in tandem with the heavy restraint arms, the small manipulators drew the canvas body sheathe up over her bound feet and legs. From the outside, it appeared as if Susan was slowly being swallowed by a white cocoon. She could already feel how tight the sheathe was, and once more moaned in despair, knowing it would only get tighter. Within seconds the material was up to her neck, and the machine barely paused before pulling the integrated hood over her head. It featured cutouts for her nose and eyes, as well as a reinforced hole in back that her braid was pulled through. What she couldn’t see, though, were the numerous sensors sewn through the hood’s material as well, clustered in specific locations around her head. Sensors that would allow ACRE to ascertain brain patterns and activity. And, over the course of her confinement, modify those patterns.

True to Susan’s fears, ACRE proceeded to tighten and seal the body sheathe, the hydraulic power of its manipulator arms easily imposing a crushing pressure as it laser welded the seam closed. Susan felt the pressure moved down her body, the sheathe pinning her already restrained arms to her back and mashing her legs together. ACRE paused when it reached her waist, ensuring that the multiple tubes and wires coming from her chastity belt were routed cleanly before resuming its progress. The cunning design, though, seemed to provide a bit of support for her sensitive breasts, pushing them up and out against the thin material. Likewise it cupped and squeezed the rounded globes of her ass. She tested out her range of motion, straining against the all encompassing restraints. She could barely twitch!

ACRE registered the slight movement through the feedback sensors in its manipulator arms, further subroutines coming to life as it understood that its prey was seeking a greater feeling of restraint. Also, it had carefully monitored the subject’s vocalizations and had not detected any attempted use of its chosen safeword. Once more the canvas delivery arms whirred to life, and a dozen straps were wrapped around the body sheathe, pulled tight and sealed in place.

At this time, the 3D printer was finished with its final constructs, delivering them for installation. A pair of opaque goggles with attached ear cups fitted over Susan’s head, plunging her into sudden darkness and muting to silence the sounds from the drone. A web of straps ensured that no amount of rubbing or thrashing would dislodge them. And lastly, a thin breathing mask was secured over her nose. During her confinement it would insure a positive, continued flow of oxygen.

Within her custom sized prison, Susan shivered in dread and undeniable arousal. She knew that escape was hopeless, the restraints so redundant and well designed that it would take a team of people with the proper tools to release her. The overwhelming sense of helplessness and restraint, though, coupled by the two dildos stretching her wide, was sending waves of pleasure rolling through her. Held by the multiple manipulator arms of the drone, the sheathe of white canvas undulated slowly as she sought to further her arousal.

ACRE moved to complete the last steps of its program, pivoting in place to retrieve one of its confinement units off the rack behind it. The rectangular case, just over a meter on its long edge, split open vertically, each half extending on a pair of internal runners. Inside was a cradle-like frame of industrial strength polymer along with a series of limp, pale white bladders.

Bringing its manipulator arms into play, ACRE folded Susan’s legs up behind her, arching her back. She groaned into the gag as she felt herself being forced into position, the restraints somehow feeling even tighter on her. The drone carefully lowered her into the cradle, laser guides ensuring that she was correctly placed against the supports. Holding tension on her body, ACRE closed the cradle over her neck, shoulders, waist, and ankles, as well as anchoring the strap braided into her hair to the appropriate mount point. For the first time, Susan felt the manipulator arms withdraw completely. The cradle, though, held her in an inescapable grip. She couldn’t see ACRE make the last connections, plugging in the various tubes and wires to their receptacles inside the containment unit. Satisfied that all programs had been executed correctly, the drone closed the case, the halves sliding silently together.

Lifting the case with its heavy manipulator arms, ACRE carried it back to the rack, placing it in one of the lower slots and connecting the required umbilicals. Complete with its required tasks, ACRE returned to its position next to the test stand, created a post-capture report with appropriate on-board stores remaining, and uploaded it to its master control database before returning to stand-by readiness.

Encased in multiple layers of restraint and closed inside her prison, her body arched in a back-breaking hogtie, Susan was blind to the activity but knew something had happened. Fresh, chill air immediately began to flow into the respirator mask strapped on her face, the oxygen sharpening her senses. The bladders surrounding her filled with cool water, supporting and cushioning her while helping to maintain a comfortable body temperature. And lastly the LED screens embedded in the blindfold she wore blinked to life.

Susan blinked against the sudden light, her eyes accustomed to the darkness. As the image in her goggles came into focus, she gasped. The image was of a naked woman, kneeling in restraint. A black leather armbinder fused her arms together behind her back, while a series of leather straps were locked tight about her body and legs, forcing her to remain kneeling. A massive ballgag sealed her mouth tight, while a stiff leather posture collar pinned her head in place. Leading from a ring in the collar to the hand of the man seated in front of her was a leash of gleaming chrome chain. Sound sprang to life through the cups over Susan’s ears, the woman’s soft moans filling her mind along with a low, tell-tale buzzing.

Simultaneously, the vibrator filling Susan’s pussy sprang to life, the pulsing waves emanating from the shaft sending her arousal rocketing higher. She moaned into her gag, unable to do anything but suffer the maddening tease.

“You belong to me now,” said a male voice in her ears, and she watched as the woman in the image nodded as much as her posture collar would allow.

“You’re going to be a good slave, aren’t you?” asked the man. Again the woman nodded.

“I can’t hear you,” said the man, sharply.

“Yth, thr.” The woman’s voice, muffled by the gag, was still discernable. Susan, caught up in the fantasy, her body alive with pleasure, almost answered before she stopped herself. I’m not a slave!

Through the sensors clustered in the hood of the body sheathe, the containment unit detected the negative response to the conditioning program and executed a level one punishment. The goggles darkened and the vibrator cut out immediately, replaced by a series of vicious shocks via the anal plug and nipple collars. Susan screamed in surprise, her body contracting beneath the painful electric assault. She tried to thrash in her restraints but could barely wiggle her fingers and toes let alone escape the devices strapped and locked to her body. She panted in distress, eyes flickering back and forth as she waited for the next searing shock.

Instead, the goggles glowed to life again, the scene repeating itself.

“You’re going to be a good slave, aren’t you?” asked the voice.

Yessir! Yessir! Susan struggled to get the words out past her gag, desperate to do anything to escape punishment. This time the network of sensors registered her compliance, and the containment unit delivered a reward. Not only did the vibrator start up again, its attendant clit stimulator also buzzed to life. Susan moaned as the waves of pleasure rolled through her, finally carrying her over the edge and into the first of many orgasms.

Outside, in the cool, silent air of the labdeck, the status telltales of the containment unit blinked steadily, the only indication of the subjugation and sexual tortures being endured by its occupant.

---

Lacey hurried back down the corridor, checking her watch. Clearing and isolating the two south elevator banks took longer than she anticipated and she needed to hurry in order to make it back to the security center before the drill got underway. She also needed to make sure that Susan was out of the labdeck.

Sliding her card through the lock, she pushed the door open.

“Susan! Susan, you in here?”

Quickly glancing around, she didn’t see her friend anywhere, and turned to leave. The random spray of paper on the floor, though, caught her attention. That seemed a little out of the ordinary, and Lacey cursed. If Susan had left a mess there’d be hell to pay once the engineers got back after the holiday. Hurrying over to the workstation, Lacey knelt and gathered up all the papers.

Once again, ACRE sensed a target moving within its acquisition range, and it shifted to an active footing. Manipulator arms unfolded silently, ready to effect capture.

<<Warning! You have been targeted for restraint and enslavement! Select a safeword immediately!>>

“Goddamnit, Susan,” muttered Lacey, shuffling the papers into a coherent pile and placing them back on Paul’s desk. She didn’t see the drone’s change of position, nor sense its proximity until it was too late.

<<Safeword has been recorded. Acknowledge that you are ready to begin.>>

Glancing at her watch, the slim security guard grimaced.

“Time to go,” she muttered. ACRE struck.

Ten minutes later, the drone returned to its position by the test stand, completing and uploading a second report. And behind it, in the shadows, a second case sat next to the first once, its unassuming LED telltales blinking softly.

Elsewhere in the building doors slid shut and locked, elevators grounded themselves as the security drill began in earnest. No help would come for the two women trapped and stringently bound, their bodies forced to endure countless orgasms, their minds assaulted with the imagery and commands of slavery. Rescue, when it came on Tuesday, a long ninety six hours away, would be far too late.

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19.11.13