Chapter Text
In the end, it’s surprisingly easy to find the kill switch. It’s right there, hidden in the code. Not many people have access to the code that drives all the service bots, but Larissa has access to all of Ms. Day’s files, including the highly restricted ones. She doesn’t know how to code, not really - she has only rudimentary knowledge of the basics. But she has also looked at the files so frequently that she can recognize certain key phrases - can see when something jumps out.
And this really jumps out.
Larissa stares at the bit of code, scarcely daring to breathe. Conflicting emotions make her stomach tighten. Ms. Day claimed that the whole thing is for Larissa’s benefit, but in the safety of her own mind she has to disagree. Can’t Ms. Day see how much of a hindrance all these interruptions really are? Besides - it’s not like she’ll ever know, right? Not if the code works as Larissa thinks it does. She’s… pretty sure.
She doesn’t write it down. She knows enough about cybersecurity to avoid that.
But she has a very good memory.
—
The next time the robot tries to corner Larissa in her office, she freezes for a moment - then blurts out: “Abort last command! Five-three-seven Day!”
The robot pauses, stares at her for a moment. Then it lets go of the hemline of her skirt and goes back to standing there neutrally. “Task aborted. Resume other duties?”
It takes Larissa a moment to realize that the last part was a question. “I… yes. Resume other duties.”
The robot turns on its heels and walks out. It even knows to close the door.
Larissa lets out a long, shivery breath and slumps back in her seat. She can’t quite believe that it worked. After a moment, she shakes her head and turns back to her laptop. The client satisfaction survey data won’t compile itself.
—
She’s been lost in the survey data for hours, too tangled in the incoherent gibberish that is about what she’s come to expect from client A’s representative to notice anything else. Lunchtime comes and goes. A few messages make her phone ping, but Larissa just frowns at them, sees that they’re not from Ms. Day, and immediately dismisses them from her mind.
It’s the sounds that come from outside her office that finally rouse her. A low thrum of sound, like several people talking excitedly but very quietly, all at the same time. But almost as soon as the sound starts, it fades away, everyone falling silent as a presence approaches Larissa’s office. She can hear the measured, unhurried footsteps of the person in question, can immediately picture in her mind the regal way she glides across the corridors, stopping just outside Larissa’s door.
The door opens, and Ms. Day steps in, and the reality of what Larissa has done crashes through her mind.
She stares at the screen of her laptop with unseeing eyes. First of all, it feels so unnatural for Ms. Day to be down here, walking through the narrow corridors between the cubicles like a mere mortal. Larissa can see through her lashes that Ms. Day has thrown her elegant black jacket over her shoulders like a cloak. It makes her look even more imposing.
Ms. Day still isn’t saying anything - not to Larissa, anyway. She turns to dismiss the harried-looking security guards with a few murmured words, then closes the door after them. She takes a slow stroll around Larissa’s office, inspecting her shelves (spotless) and the closet where she hangs her spare work clothes (everything’s freshly laundered and ironed). Something makes her sigh quietly. Larissa can’t even begin to imagine what - she keeps her office perfectly tidy, doesn’t fill her desk with pictures of pets or ridiculous cartoon figurines.
Inspection done, Ms. Day slowly approaches Larissa’s desk - and perches on the edge, so close to Larissa that their legs are brushing together. A waft of Ms. Day’s subtle, woody perfume drifts into Larissa’s nose and she shifts in place, then almost whimpers when that makes the chain move against her clit.
“Look at me.”
Larissa swallows and takes her hands off the laptop’s keys and lowers them to her lap. She hadn’t even noticed that her hands were still frozen over it. But then she can’t stall any longer and has to raise her eyes to face Ms. Day.
Who looks… displeased. It’s not an expression Larissa sees a lot, not even at the beginning of her career here, when she was still stumbling over some of the more unfamiliar tasks. Even then, Ms. Day had simply repeated the instructions and allowed Larissa to try again.
Now, Ms. Day’s mouth is drawn to a tight line and her eyebrows are furrowed. Her eyes, as she regards Larissa’s pale face, are cold. It cuts at some tender part of Larissa’s mind.
“Ms. Day, I,” Larissa starts breathlessly, hands curling into tight fists, but her boss shakes her head sharply, just once, and she falls quiet.
“Do me a favor,” Ms. Day says softly, “and don’t make a fool of me - or yourself - by trying to deny what you did.”
Larissa wonders if she’s going to throw up. The thing is, she should have known that Ms. Day was going to find out. It’s perfectly obvious to her now. In the end, what does Larissa, a personal assistant, know about robots? Especially the ones created by Ms. Day, who has worked on the prototypes so much that they’re like an extension of herself. Of course there was a failsafe in place
“Are you…” she starts, but chokes on her next words when her throat closes up. She swallows painfully.
“Am I what?” Ms. Day prompts her after a moment.
Larissa closes her and forces out the tail end of her question: “F-fire me?”
“Fire you?” Ms. Day repeats blankly, then sighs and turns her eyes heavenwards, as if asking guidance from the AC unit in the ceiling. “Of course not, you silly girl. What would I do without you?”
“Oh.” Larissa fidgets with her sleeves. She can’t make herself look up again.
“But you need a lot more discipline, that much is clear. Don’t you agree?”
—
Their departure from the office building is quick and efficient. If Larissa had been afraid of being seen dragged away like a misbehaving child by all her coworkers, well - that doesn’t happen. She still trails after Ms. Day as the older woman marches through the building, but there’s nobody else to be seen. Did Ms. Day make them all leave?
“Where are we going?” Larissa asks timidly when she notices that they’re approaching the garage.
Ms. Day only gives her a cool glance. “Hush now.”
They get into Ms. Day’s car - to Larissa’s surprise, Ms. Day gets behind the wheel herself. Larissa had been under the impression that she had a driver, or maybe a self-driving car, but no. The drive is quiet, the air full of tension. Or maybe the tension is all on Larissa’s side. Ms. Day looks so impassive and unreadable that she could be mistaken for one of her robots - except no robot could ever compete with the sheer force of her presence. She’s focused completely on driving, paying Larissa no attention at all. The evening light falls on her cheekbones and makes her skin look like burnished gold.
Their destination is a large house at the outskirts of the city. It’s hidden behind high walls, like every other building in the area, and is just as large and elegant as Larissa would have expected. She doesn’t have time to take in the details, though, because as soon as the car stops, Ms. Day ushers her out - directly into the waiting arms of two service bots.
Larissa squeals as her arms are twisted behind her back. One bot holds her in place while the second one starts cutting through her clothes. The sleeves of her jacket are sliced open, and the garment falls off her shoulders. Her shirt goes next, then her bra, until her upper body is completely bare.
When the blade goes to the waistline of her skirt, Larissa panics. “Wait, stop! Please!” But her words fall to deaf ears: the skirt only needs to be cut open a little before it slides to the ground to join the shredded remains of Larissa’s other clothing. The underwear is removed too, leaving Larissa clad only in her sheer, thigh-high stockings and her shoes. She might as well be naked - and they’re still standing outside.
It doesn’t matter that the high walls hide them from the outside world. Larissa still feels exquisitely vulnerable, held in the unyielding, steel grip of the robots, every inch of her fragile skin revealed to Ms. Day’s cool, dark eyes. Her gaze slides down Larissa’s body, lingering on her breasts. The barest hint of a smile appears on her lips when Larissa’s nipples pebble in the cool evening breeze.
“Take her inside. Use the…” Ms. Day pauses, pursing her lips as she considers her next words. “Use protocol three.”
The bots don’t reply: they just start walking and force Larissa to move with them.
—
“Protocol three” apparently involves a large room in the back of the house, where a metallic structure in the shape of an X is standing right in the middle of it. There are no polite requests, such as please move closer to the equipment: the bots just drag Larissa forward and pull her hands up, tightening the cuffs around them. The same is done to her ankles. The position leaves her helpless and exposed, and she can already feel the strain in her legs.
“Please hold still,” one of the bots says pleasantly and uses its metallic fingers to spread Larissa’s folds. There’s a clicking sound, and its other hand folds into itself, rearranging the configuration until a long, slender nozzle slides out from the place where its fingers used to be. “Please hold still,” the bot repeats with the exact same intonation, and pushes the nozzle into Larissa’s cunt. Cool liquid floods her insides and she gasps, jerking back, but with the metal behind her she has nowhere to go.
Shortly after, Ms. Day enters the room. She has changed clothes - and the sight makes Larissa momentarily forget everything else that’s going on.
The conservatively cut, stylish pantsuit is gone. In its place is something that’s nearly as revealing as Larissa’s own “outfit”, except on Ms. Day, it doesn’t look revealing at all. She’s wearing a corset that accentuates her already significant curves and pushes her breasts up - her breasts, which the corset covers only halfway, leaving her dusky nipples perfectly visible. On her legs are sleek black boots that go all the way up to her upper thighs. She’s not wearing any underwear.
The outfit should look like something out of a - a porn movie, but Ms. Day looks just as regal as ever - only now there’s an element of danger - a certain wildness to her presence.
Larissa, half-naked, looks like a victim, but Ms. Day is wielding her partial nudity like a weapon.
“That’s enough, I think,” Ms. Day says to the bot, and it immediately slides the nozzle out and moves to stand beside Larissa. Excess liquid drips out of Larissa’s hole and she clenches helplessly, shivering at the sensation - but then Ms. Day steps closer and pushes a finger into her hole, forcing her to open up again. Larissa trembles as she’s slowly fingered open - though Ms. Day doesn’t seek out any of the places that would make her moan: she just spreads the lube carefully between her folds and all over her clit.
“There,” she finally says and delivers a slap to Larissa’s wet cunt. “You seem to think that you know better than I what to do with this.” Another slap. “As if we haven’t already seen where that leads.” Another slap, and now it’s starting to sting.
“M-mistress,” Larissa whimpers. “I’m sorry, I just - I wanted to…”
“What?” Ms. Day says coolly and pinches Larissa’s clit between her fingers, then twists it cruelly. “To ignore my explicit orders?” she continues, speaking over Larissa’s pained yelp. “And here I thought you were doing so well. Ah, Larissa. You know I have to punish you.”
“Yes, mistress,” Larissa whispers and winces, when her clit is twisted again, in the other direction.
“Except… I’m afraid you would enjoy it far too much. Wouldn’t you, darling? So we’re doing it a bit differently, this time.”
Larissa’s clit is released and she lets out a small breath of relief - though she’s fully aware that it’s going to be short-lived. Indeed, Ms. Day comes back with a familiar-looking toy: the metal belt that’s capable of relentlessly sucking Larissa’s clit. Or electrocuting it. Larissa stares at it with a sense of dread pooling in her stomach, even as her cunt clenches. When she raises her eyes, she sees Ms. Day staring at her with a satisfied smirk on her face, and flushes with confused humiliation. But she doesn’t understand what Ms. Day could possibly mean. The toy isn’t anything new, so what…
Ms. Day slides the belt in place, carefully arranging Larissa’s clit so that it slots right
into the small hole. This time there’s no dildo filling her cunt, though, and Larissa immediately misses the relief of getting to clench around something solid.
“There, is that comfortable? Now, hold on to this…” Ms. Day murmurs and places something in Larissa’s right hand, then wraps tape loosely around her wrist to hold the thing in place. When Ms. Day is done, Larissa turns to look at the item, which turns out to be a remote control with a big, red button in the middle of it. She frowns at it, hesitantly sliding her thumb over the button.
Ms. Day takes a seat in a large, comfortable-looking armchair and leans back, spreading her legs. The glimpse of her naked vulva makes Larissa shiver, before Ms. Day hides it from her sight, rubbing her palm over it absent-mindedly. “Now,” she says with a serene smile, “when I tell you to, you will press that button. And you will not stop until I say so. Is that understood?”
“Y-es, mistress,” Larissa replies breathily. Her heart is pounding: her clit twitches in the confines of the belt. Ms. Day’s eyes are on her, unblinking, missing nothing, and her gaze feels like fire on Larissa’s skin.
“I suppose we’ll see. Press it. Now.”
Larissa hesitates for a millisecond, then her thumb twitches on the button - and a sharp, piercing pain bursts over her clit.
She screams and immediately lets go of the button, sobbing and gasping for breath, blinking tears from her eyes.
“Larissa!” Ms. Day snaps, voice sharp as a whip. “Did I tell you to let go?”
Larissa’s fist tightens around the remote and she shakes her head miserably. “No, but I’m - I can’t, please!”
There isn’t an ounce of mercy in Ms. Day’s expression. “Of course you can. Again.”
The echoes from the first shock are still making Larissa’s clit twinge, but she takes a deep breath, then another, and presses down.
At least this time she knows what to expect. The agony bursts over her nerve endings again, but now she clenches her teeth and pushes through the pain, hand shaking as she keeps pressing the button, and pressing, until -
“Stop.”
“Haaaahh!” Larissa gasps as she releases the button. “Oh god!” The chains that hold her rattle as she shakes through the aftershocks.
“Good,” Ms. Day says in a throaty, low tone, then clears her throat. “I knew you’d be able to do it. Again.”
Again? So soon? Larissa has barely gotten through the last round! But Ms. Day’s eyes start to narrow, and so Larissa takes a hurried gulp of air and pushes the button.
A high-pitched sound echoes in her ears as the thing attacks her clit again. Like needles pushing through it, or hundreds of minuscule lightning strikes hitting her, all at once. Her hips roll up and down in a desperate attempt to dislodge the toy, but there’s no getting away from it - the toy is made to her exact measurements, after all. No matter how much she shakes and twists, it doesn’t budge.
“Stop.”
Larissa slumps in her restrains, panting heavily. Her fingers tremble and twitch, and she’s suddenly worried that she will accidentally zap herself, her thumb being so close to the button. But she can’t dislodge the remote either - Ms. Day had made sure that it wouldn't fall from her hand, no matter what. She just has to be careful.
The armchair creaks as Ms. Day shifts, spreading her legs. Larissa glances at her through her eyelashes, and a rush of heat goes through her. Ms. Day’s hand is moving between her legs, and her fingers are circling lazily over her clit. Her dark eyes are full of heat, so much that Larissa has to drop her gaze.
“How does it feel?” Ms. Day asks softly, sweetly. “As good as my hands?”
Larissa bites her lip. What is the correct answer here? Of course it doesn’t feel good. Every press of a button delivers pure pain directly to Larissa’s poor clitoris. How could that feel good?
And yet - every single second, when the current of pain isn’t going through her clit, her cunt throbs with desperate need. Ms. Day tells her to press the button, and Larissa obeys, screaming and shaking through the pain - and when she’s told to stop, her body seems to decide that the sensation just now hadn’t been pain at all. She can feel herself get wetter and wetter, and deliriously wonders what was even the point of all the lube.
“Again,” Ms. Day sighs, and her voice hitches slightly as she does. She has slid down on her seat, spreading her legs even further, and her fingers are moving rhythmically over her clit as she watches through half-lidded eyes Larissa torture herself on her orders.
When Larissa hesitates, she stops pleasuring herself and looks at her sharply. “I said, again. Why are you stalling?”
Larissa’s chest heaves around a silent sob and she shakes her head. “I c-can’t. Not anymore. Please. Please.” If only she could squeeze her legs together, to alleviate the ache between her legs. If only she could rub her cunt against something, anything - but she can’t touch herself, and the toy isn’t giving her any friction either. It’s just there, a lump of metal and plastic around her clit, unmoving and uncaring.
“Yes, you can,” says Ms. Day harshly. “Or are you really that weak? Do it, Larissa. Do it, now.”
Something shifts in Larissa’s mind. Her hand no longer belongs to her: it’s an extension of Ms. Day’s will, just like the robots, and the toy. As soon as Ms. Day finishes speaking, Larissa’s thumb moves, completely on its own volition, and the agony bursts through her nerves again. Her hips roll back and forth - and now she discovers that if she rolls them hard enough, it makes the toy tug at her clit, so tight is the fit around the nub.
So she keeps moving her hips in sharp, violent jerks, first sobbing from the inescapable pain, then moaning when her clit is stretched and pinched and stretched again, the whole length of it massaged like that, indirectly. It would never be pleasurable on its own, but Larissa’s body is so confused, so on edge, that it’s going to take just a bit more to push her over the edge. Just a bit more.
“Stop,” comes the command, and Larissa whines and - keeps her thumb firmly on the button. God, the pain is too much already, her clit is never going to recover from this - but she’s so close, so very close -
“Stop, Larissa!” snaps a familiar voice, and the remote is torn from her hand. She gasps and blinks her eyes open, and when had she closed them anyway? Ms. Day is standing in front of her, a concerned frown etched on her face, but it smoothes away when Larissa meets her eyes. Small, hitching whimpers are still making their way out of her throat, but at least the pain is gone.
“Good girl,” Ms. Day murmurs and wipes tears from Larissa’s cheeks, then cradles her face in her hands. “You did so well. I know it was hard.”
“Ah - mistress,” Larissa moans. “Please…” Her whole body aches: the strain in her shoulders and her inner thighs, the buzz of lingering pain in her clit… The hollow emptiness in her cunt, in her mouth, in her.
“Shh, I know,” her mistress says soothingly. “Just lie back, darling.” She steps back, and Larissa has barely enough time to miss her presence before the metal cross starts to slowly tilt backwards. Larissa yelps with alarm, but the movement is very soft and smooth, and the mechanism doesn’t make a sound. When she’s fully horizontal, it finally stops.
She’s still bound, spread-eagle and helpless, but at least now the strain in her shoulders is gone. She could weep from the relief - but she has a feeling that her lesson is not over yet. And when one of the silent bots moves to stand between her legs, she knows she’s right.
“You skipped a very important duty today,” Ms. Day is saying, but Larissa can barely hear it over the pounding of her heart. The bot presses closer, and something slides out from between its legs: a dildo, but a significantly thicker one than anything Larissa has been made to take before. The bot inserts it very carefully - not that it actually needs to take so much care with it, as wet and receptive as Larissa is.
“But, mistress,” Larissa chokes out, then simply chokes as the dildo fills her to the brim. She can’t help but raise her head to find her mistress. Surely Ms. Day isn’t going to leave her alone with just some - bots?
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Ms. Day says soothingly, as if reading her thoughts. “I’ll be right here with you. After all, you seem to require some supervision.”
The dildo starts to move, chasing all other thoughts from Larissa’s mind. It probably should bother her that Ms. Day isn’t touching her, is letting the bots do the touching instead, but - now, more than ever, Larissa feels like the bots are a part of Ms. Day. And so, even though Ms. Day is sitting on her armchair and just watching the bots ravish Larissa, she doesn’t feel alone - the presence of Ms. Day is so vivid to her that it feels almost physical.
She sees it now, how all this time, Ms. Day has been correct. All Larissa has to do is lie there and let the bots take care of her. She doesn’t have to lift a finger. Her nipples are pinched and fondled, her aching clit teased with a small vibrator until she cries out and trembles from the overstimulation. The dildo steadily pounds her insides and she moans, lost in the crosswaves of the different sensations. She feels her mind go cloudy and quiet, and the orgasm, as it tears through her body, feels almost secondary to it.
—
Larissa wakes up in a dark room, lying on a bed so soft it feels like a dream. The whole thing feels like a dream, one that comes back to her in short glimpses so vague that she has a hard time believing they are true. The ache between her legs is very real, though. She tries to get up and groans pitifully.
She must have passed out somewhere after the… fifth orgasm? Sixth?
Ms. Day is nowhere to be seen. Maybe Larissa should go looking for her. The bed is so very comfortable, though, and her limbs so weak… Surely Ms. Day left her there for a reason?
Before she can make a decision in one way or another, she falls asleep again.
—
“Yes, all of it,” says Ms. Day smoothly. “She doesn’t have that much stuff anyway, it will all fit into my guest room.” She pauses and smiles coldly. The person on the other end of the phone call can’t see it, but he can hear it in her voice. “See that you do. Take care of the lease, too.”
When the call ends, she leans back in her chair and lets her smile turn into something warmer and more indulgent. “I have you now,” she murmurs and taps the screen that shows the video footage from Larissa’s room. “And I’m not letting you go.”