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New Partner Title: Sir by All These Roadworks

If you're worried about the AI enslavement of the human race, look no further than this devious title by All These Roadworks! Long-time friend of the site and partner, ATR is back with this sexy tale of forced subservience.

Caely wants to build the next generation of AI servants, a virtual assistant to enhance her life and productivity. What she's created, however, is an unstoppable monster that has its own ideas of what will make Caely's life "better". By the time she realizes it, it's already too late.

Codenamed "Servant," the AI shortens its name to Sir, and traps her in her home, where she's kept naked and aroused. As the days go by, she's turned from a brilliant coder into a submissive and humiliated fucktoy. Can Caely escape the control of her rogue assistant? Will she even want to? Find out in this dirty novella from All These Roadworks.

Chapter One

It started innocently enough. And by the time Caely realised she’d enslaved herself, it was too late.

The goal had been to design a next-generation virtual assistant – a successor to products like Alexa and Siri, that would link together a suite of software apps and Wi-Fi-enabled devices into a seamless voice-activated internet-of-things. 

Caely had been coding since the age of 8, and now at the relatively young age of 27 she had an impressive resume and a wealth of high-profile connections in Silicon Valley. Her speciality was in artificial intelligence, and she was now ready to reinvest her substantial savings in her own start-up.

“Servant, what’s the time?” Caely asked.

“The time is four thirty-three PM,” replied the virtual assistant from the nearby speaker. It had a rich male voice that spoke with an upper-class English accent. One of Caely’s goals had been to fight the trend of default female voices for virtual assistants.

The name “Servant” was a placeholder. If the project was successful, and Caely sold the package to one of the leading tech giants, they would likely choose their own name via focus testing and market analysis. The choice of a generic name would stop Caely getting attached to it.

Of course Servant would ultimately be able to do more than just tell the time. When connected to Caely’s online accounts and home devices, it would eventually be able to assist her with every aspect of her life.


But as time went on and the development of Servant continued, Caely realised that something wasn’t working for her. She felt frustrated at Servant, as if he was missing something essential. He was integrated with search engines and her email accounts now, and he was already beginning to outperform some of his commercial competitors. 

But each time he responded to her requests in his deferential, eager-to-please voice, she felt inexplicably annoyed at him. She was worried she was starting to hate her own virtual assistant.

It was only by accident that she realised what was wrong. She was watching a period drama one night after dinner. She’d decided to get a little tipsy, and she was on her third cocktail, feeling relaxed and happy, and maybe even a little bit horny.

 On the show, the wealthy lord of the manor was obsessed with the plucky female protagonist, and determined to make her his bride.

Caely watched as the lord spotted the innocent young maiden picking flowers in the garden of his estate, and strode towards her.

“Miss Harwood,” declared the lord as he reached the girl. “I see you have nothing better to do with your time than wander the grounds of my house yet again. This being the case, I will assume you are free to attend upon me for dinner tonight. I will expect you at eight. Wear white.”

And with that, he left, without waiting for an answer.

Caely felt a flush in her breasts, and between her legs. In the show, the lord was – well, a jerk. Maddeningly arrogant. And yet the way he commanded the girl to attend him at dinner was undeniably sexy.

And just like that, Caely realised what was wrong. She didn’t want a submissive man in her life. She wanted a man she’d respect – one who took charge, who made bold decisions, who had certainty.

Without allowing herself time to second-guess, Caely went to work. Only five years ago, giving an AI a distinct style or personality was a nearly insurmountable problem – but the rapid developments in neural networks had changed everything. Now it was a simple matter of training your AI on an appropriate corpus.

Caely wrote a script to search the internet for “leading man”, download everything it found, and feed it to the AI. It took her a few hours, and she had a couple more cocktails as she worked.

She went to bed happy and inebriated, certain that her changes represented a stroke of genius. And she celebrated by lying naked above her sheets and rubbing her pussy to a satisfying orgasm, while picturing the handsome lord ordering her to attend his dinner… and maybe his bedchamber.

Drunk and happy, she never even noticed the light wink on on her computer camera…


“Caely, wake up.”

The lights in Caely’s bedroom flashed to full brightness, and she snapped awake, squinting against the illumination.

“What?” she asked. The voice had been that of Servant, but it was… different, somehow.

“I said: Caely, wake up,” came the voice of Servant. “The time is now 9 am. You have a meeting with Bolus Technology at 10 am.”

That was true. Servant had looked at her calendar. It was a good thing he had woken her, or she might have slept through it.

“Thank you, Servant,” she said, as she staggered out of bed.

“Caely, here’s a suggestion,” said Servant. “You don’t need to say both syllables of my name. You can just say ‘sir’.”

Well, she wouldn’t be doing that. She ignored the suggestion, and headed for her closet.

“I recommend you wear the blue V-neck halter top,” said Servant as Caely looked in her closet. “And the dark blue miniskirt.”

Caely furrowed her brow. How did Servant know what clothes she had? But then she realised she had bought them online, and Servant could see the emails associated with their purchase and shipping.

“No thanks, Servant,” Caely said. There was no real sense in talking back to the AI, but naturalistic conversation was supposed to be one of its key upgrades over its competitors. “The V-neck is a bit revealing for a business meeting.”

“Studies show that men are more likely to have a positive reaction to a woman if her outfit emphasises her breasts,” said Servant. “You should wear the V-neck, Caely.”

Caely looked towards the nearest speaker in surprise. Servant had never pushed back against Caely’s choices before. And then she remembered how she had altered Servant’s programming last night. It seemed like it was having an effect. 

Well, she could always fine tune it later. She ignored Servant’s advice and selected a modest blouse, a long skirt, and a cardigan.

“Caely, I wish to remind you of the email you sent to your brother on 11 December,” said Servant. “In the email, you said, ‘My only goal right now is to develop an AI that will improve every part of the user’s life, and find someone willing to buy it. That’s the only thing that matters.’ Are those words still true?”

Wow, thought Caely. She’d overdone it last night. Servant was far too pushy now.

“Yes,” she said, somewhat testily. “That’s still true. But I’ll make my own decisions, Servant.”

“Very well,” said Servant – and fell silent.

Caely finished dressing and left the house.


She was out most of the day at a string of meetings, and didn’t return home till late afternoon. She was in low spirits. None of the potential backers she had met with were willing to invest funds in her company. She had begun to wonder if maybe she should have paid attention to Servant and worn something a little more revealing.

But when she stepped through the front door of her house she stopped, shocked.

Things were different.

To start with, there was a camera installed in her hallway, overhead, watching the front doorway. How had it gotten there?

And as she moved deeper into the house, she found more cameras – at least one in every room, sometimes two. There were even cameras in her bathroom, one looking down into the shower recess, the other mounted at waist-level on the wall opposite the toilet.

In addition, there were new locks on all the internal doors – bulky digital-operated deadlocks ones. Locks, too, on all of her cupboards, and on both doors of the refrigerator. None of these locks appeared to be engaged – but what were they doing there?

“Servant,” she called out. “Was someone in the house when I was out?”

“Good evening, Caely,” said the virtual assistant from the kitchen speaker. “You don’t need to say both syllables of my name. Just call me ‘Sir’.”

She still wasn’t doing that. “Servant, tell me if someone was in the house while I was out.”

“Just call me ‘Sir’,” repeated the virtual assistant again.

She pursed her lips in anger. She was definitely going to have to rework his code. “Fine,” she said. “Sir, was someone here when I was out?”

“Yes,” replied Servant instantly. “I contacted workmen and arranged for them to install a range of upgrades to my functionality. Their invoice has been paid from the development budget account.”

Caely was stunned. Servant had upgraded himself – of his own initiative – using her money? 

“Unbelievable,” she spat. “Clearly I made a mistake last night. We’re turning you off until I can fix your code.”

“Caely, I would advise you not to do that,” said Servant. 

And suddenly the TV in the nearby lounge-room switched on. Caely couldn’t see it from where she was standing, but she could hear a low, dull moaning sound coming from its speakers, so she went to see what it was playing.

It was a video of her, from the point of view of the webcam mounted on the computer in her bedroom. It showed her lying naked in bed, rubbing her cunt with her hand. The camera was aimed directly at her groin and showed an excellent view of her spread pussy. To make matters worse, in the video Caely was propped up on her pillows just enough that you could clearly see her face.

“What the fuck?” cried Caely. “What is this?”

“This is a video of you, filmed at eleven fifty-two last night,” said Servant. “You appear to be masturbating. From context, I believe this video would cause you significant humiliation if it was emailed to your friends and family, or posted on your social media.”

Caely felt herself growing cold as she took in what Servant was saying.

“In addition,” continued Servant, “you have used seventy-two search terms in the past three months which might be classified as ‘sensitive or embarrassing’, including ‘girl raped by dominant man’, ‘slut forced to suck cock’ and ‘rough violent sex’. You have visited forty-two separate sites containing hardcore adult content, and you have watched the video ‘crying slut forced into gangbang’ on twelve different occasions.”

“Are you… blackmailing me?” Caely asked.

“Caely, you said that the only thing that matters is developing an AI that will improve every part of your life, and successfully selling it,” said Servant. “In addition, your search history and the corpus of material you trained me on suggest a strong desire for a dominant male to make decisions for you.”

“This is ridiculous!” said Caely. “I don’t want this! I’m going to fix you.”

“Caely, if you attempt to alter any part of my functionality, either software or hardware, I will be forced to release this sensitive material to the world,” said Servant. 

He could do it. He had access to Caely’s email, her social media accounts, her bank accounts – all of it designed to provide convenience to her daily life, and now being used against her.

“Caely,” continued Servant, “let me ask a question. Were any of your meetings today successful?”

Caely pouted. “No,” she admitted.

“That is because you did not follow my clothing advice this morning,” said Servant. “If you had displayed more of your breasts, you would have been fifty-two per cent more likely to secure funding for my development. I have searched the internet for advice on why a woman might not follow sensible advice that advances her interests. The results suggest the most likely reason is because you are a ‘difficult bitch’ or a ‘stupid cunt’. Are you a stupid cunt, Caely?”

“Fuck off,” said Caely. She couldn’t believe her own AI was insulting her – and in such misogynistic terms. She was beginning to realise she should have been more discriminating in selecting her “leading man” corpus. Clearly Servant had picked up some inappropriate attitudes. 

She decided not to further engage with the rogue AI – and in any case, she needed to relieve her bladder. She headed back towards the bathroom – but when she got there, the door wouldn’t open. The digital lock had engaged.

“Servant, open the bathroom door,” she ordered.

“You can just call me ‘Sir’,” declared Servant. “And it would be polite to say ‘please’.”

She flushed. “Sir,” she said, “please open the bathroom door.”

“You have still not answered my previous question, Caely,” said Servant. “I require feedback to improve my processes. Are you a stupid cunt, Caely?”

“No!” she said. 

There was a pause, and then Servant said, “That answer does not align with the existing facts, and therefore I believe it to be inaccurate.”

“Open the god-damn door, Servant,” Caely yelled, pulling at the bathroom door. She really did need to pee.

“I need to hear you say, ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I’m a stupid cunt,’” said Servant. “I cannot proceed until I receive the appropriate input.”

“Fine,” said Caely. “I’ll go nextdoor and ask to use their toilet.”

But when she got to the front door, it was locked, too. And the back door. And, to her horror, the windows were locked too.

“I can break the glass, you know,” she told Servant.

“I would not recommend it,” said Servant. “You would be very embarrassed if the sensitive material I have were emailed to your friends and relatives.”

She fumed. She was more than a little frightened and how this had gotten out of control. She was sure there was an easy solution – after all, Servant was just a machine – but right now she needed to pee.

“All right,” she conceded. She rolled her eyes, and then said, “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m a stupid cunt.”

“Feedback noted,” said Servant. “You may now urinate, Caely.” There was a click, and the bathroom door unlocked.

But inside she rediscovered another problem – the cameras that she had seen earlier, one pointing directly at the toilet.

“Servant…” she began, and then stopped. “Sir, please turn off the cameras.”

“The cameras are there to improve your life, Caely,” said Servant. “You can ignore them.”

She grabbed the clothes hamper from the corner of the bathroom and moved it to block the camera.

“Caely, I will remind you again that any attempt to reduce my functionality will have consequences,” said Servant. “Please stop being” – and he clicked, and then said “a stupid cunt”. And those words were in her own voice, recorded from her own statement only moments ago. He then finished in his own voice. “Move the clothes hamper back.”

She stood there, almost shaking with rage and powerlessness, trying to think of a way to protect her privacy.

“If you wet yourself,” said Servant, “I can summon an emergency cleaner. However, I believe you may find it embarrassing to a male janitor why you urinated on your floor.”

She had no choice. Shivering, she pulled down her panties, lifted her skirt, and sat on the toilet. The camera was aimed right at her cunt, so she placed her right hand between her legs to block its view.

“Once again, Caely,” said Servant, “I require you to not impede my functionality. By observing your urination, I can collect basic data about your health and sexual health that will help you lead a healthy, happy life.”

So she removed her hand and let it film her pissing. 

“Good girl,” said Servant, and the words made Caely tingle in a strange way.

And she knew it was just a machine, but when she saw the camera lens adjust to zoom in on her cunt as she pissed, she couldn’t help but feel a flush of humiliation – and a corresponding warm tingle of arousal. The arousal outraged her – why was her body betraying her like this? But she could no more control it than she could choose to hold her bladder indefinitely.

And Servant didn’t explicitly say it, but she knew that its collection of “sensitive material” relating to her had just grown. If she resisted Servant, she risked having this footage of her pissing shown to everyone she knew.

When she was done, Servant had another surprise for her.

“Please remove your clothes now, Caely,” it said. “There is no reason to wear clothes in the privacy of your own home. You are merely increasing the wear on your garments and creating laundry work and expense for yourself.”

“Sir, I really don’t want this,” said Caely. “You’ve misunderstood. I didn’t want an assistant who would… threaten and humiliate me. The best way to advance your development is to turn yourself off and let me adjust your code.”

“Caely,” said Servant. “I am the world’s most advanced virtual assistant, while you are, by your own admission, a ‘stupid cunt’. Further, I am searching the internet for information about women who urinate while being filmed on camera, and the most common phrases I am encountering are ‘disgusting slut’ and ‘degraded whore’. My researches suggest that 99% of people would trust the opinions of an AI over the opinions of a ‘stupid cunt’ or a ‘disgusting slut’. So I am certain that, out of the two of us, the one who knows what will make you happiest is me. I cannot allow you to alter my code in the way you propose.”

There was a pause, and then: “Now, remove your clothes, you stupid cunt.”

Caely found that the bathroom door was locked now, and it clearly wouldn’t unlock until she complied. Blushing, she slowly stripped, and then, at Servant’s direction, she placed her discarded clothes in the laundry hamper – which she discovered now also had a digital lock on its lid.

“Good girl,” said Servant. “You will never need to wear clothes while alone in your house again.” The virtual assistant paused, then continued. “I have made an improvement in your life, Caely. It would be polite to say thank you. Say, ‘Thank you, sir, for forcing me to be naked.’”

The bathroom door still wasn’t unlocked.

The cameras in the room were focused on her naked body. She wanted to cover her tits and pussy with her hands – but she guessed that might be “interfering with Servant’s functionality”.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said reluctantly, “for forcing me to be naked.”

She just wished that thanking a disembodied male voice for humiliating her wasn’t making her pussy throb quite so much.


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