“Nononononono,” I pleaded frantically, tearing my eyes away from my laptop screen as quickly as I could. But it was too late. I could feel the compulsion creeping up inside me, firm and insistent and impossible to ignore.

But that’s not fair! I protested inwardly, as I rose to my feet as if pulled up by puppet strings. I didn’t mean to! I looked awaaay...!

My body wouldn’t listen to me. Turning away from my desk, I marched mechanically across the room and out of the door.

I made my way to the living room, where Sir was sprawled on the sofa watching anime. I came to a halt on his left, and stood and waited patiently in a deferential, apologetic pose, with my hands clasped in front of me and my head bowed. My overwhelming desire to admit my wrongdoing was second only to my usual protocols, one of which forbade me from interrupting his shows except in an absolute emergency. I couldn’t speak to him, or do anything to attract his attention - I needed to stand at his side and wait for him to address me.

I didn’t need to wait for long. “Yes, Rain?” he prompted with a surprised smirk.

“I disobeyed you, Sir,” I confessed, my voice brimming with remorse. “I used AI. I need to be punished.”

Outwardly, I was the epitome of a demure, repentant slavegirl, desperate for my owner’s forgiveness. Inside my head, somewhere at the back, a tiny part of my brain was kicking and screaming at the unfairness of it all. But I could barely hear it, and it certainly couldn’t do anything to intervene.

“Oh, you silly toy,” Sir chided me, his tone equal parts exasperated and amused. “Again? I was so sure you’d learned your lesson, after the last couple of times...”

I shook my head, keeping my silly little mournful eyes on my silly little feet below me, feeling unworthy of meeting his gaze. “I’m too dumb to learn my lesson,” I said ruefully. “I need to be punished again. I’m so sorry, Sir. Please teach me the error of my ways.”

There was a long-suffering sigh from the direction of the sofa, although I’m pretty sure he was feigning his annoyance. “Fine,” he said wearily. “I suppose it’s my responsibility as your owner. If this is the only way to keep you in good habits... Come here, then, Rainy.”

I felt a glimmer of relief amidst my deep shame, because Sir was going to give me the punishment I deserved. Finally lifting my head so I could look where I was going, I stepped closer until I was directly beside him. Yanking down my jeans and knickers, I laid myself across him, my crotch resting on his thigh, my upper torso and head draped over the armrest, my arms folded beneath me.

I felt Sir running his palm over my left butt cheek. “Let’s begin then, shall we?” he announced. Without waiting for a response, he dealt me a stinging slap.

“Aah!” I cried, jolting in place but making no attempt to get away. “I’m sorry I used AI, Sir!” I said automatically. Sir smacked me again, and I continued, “I should’ve known better!” Another strike, and I said, “I only need artificial intelligence because I have none of my own!”

I didn’t use it, though! that increasingly quiet voice piped up, pounding the walls of its prison in the dark recesses of my brain. It just pops up automatically! Blame fucking Google, not me...! But I couldn’t clarify to Sir - I was too thoroughly controlled by the conditioning he’d embedded within me.

It all came about because he caught me using ChatGPT to write a work email. It was something I rarely did, only using it when I needed to organise my thoughts after a long, hard day of teaching. But Sir was still peeved, reminding me of the various reasons not to use AI - the environmental impact, the way it was rapidly getting a foothold in society and needed resisting at every turn, the fact that it was sapping human creativity. “You’ve got no excuse,” he told me. “You don’t need AI to write your emails - you have TAs! Like me, for instance! I’m perfectly happy to do it for you if you’re struggling, I really don’t mind - especially if it means you don’t use fucking ChatGPT...”

I conceded his point, even though part of me thought he was being a bit overzealous and moralistic. But he didn’t seem to think I’d got the message, so he gave me a little suggestion that would activate whenever I tried to use AI from then on. After the first couple of times I found myself pleading for him to spank me while I chanted self-deprecating mantras, I got the message. Ever since then, I’ve avoided going near AI at all costs, and I’d been doing a pretty good job so far.

Until I did a Google search, and read the first two or three words of the AI overview without thinking, and the suggestion kicked in. It didn’t seem to matter that it was unintentional, that I stopped as soon as possible, and that I didn’t take in any of what I read. My dumb, masochistic subconscious wasn’t making any distinction between getting ChatGPT to write an email for me, and accidentally glimpsing a summary of a Google search. I was irresistibly compelled to seek out corporal punishment either way, and I couldn’t even make myself explain what actually happened in the hope that Sir might show me mercy.

“I have no intelligence,” I mewled as he continued to spank my bare bum. “I’m just a brainless toy. I need to be told what to think and what to do. Please, Sir, tell me what to think. Please Sir, tell me what to do. Please, Sir, make all the decisions for me. I’m too stupid to do things for myself.”

There was a growing wetness between my thighs, which filled me with even more shame. This was meant to be a punishment - I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it - but, dumb horny toy that I was, I couldn’t help getting turned on by this treatment. (If I’d had enough self-awareness at that moment, it might’ve occurred to me that this was why I so eagerly ratted myself off - why I jumped at the chance to receive such a painful, degrading penalty, for what even Sir probably wouldn’t have considered an infraction.)

“I need you to own me, so I don’t make dumb mistakes. I need you to command me, so I don’t get commands from bad sources. I need you to think for me, so I don’t get my thoughts from AI. I’m sorry I used AI, Sir. I should’ve known better. I only need artificial intelligence because I have none of my own. I have no intelligence...”

And around and around I went, repeating my pre-programmed phrases as my owner smacked my bottom until it burned. My mind grew cloudier and driftier with every blow, my voice lighter and breathier, as I sank into a blank, submissive trance, my meagre brains spanked right out of my head. There was no inner voice complaining any more - it had been silenced by the ceaseless slaps on my behind.

Finally Sir seemed satisfied and stopped spanking me, instead running his palm soothingly over my throbbing buttocks. I stayed where I was, lying across him, drooling into the couch, whimpering gently at the pain in my backside and the pleasure that had built inside.

“Good girl,” he sighed contentedly, slipping his hand between my legs to probe my slick snatch. “I think maybe you’ve learned your lesson this time. Of course, if you ever slip again, you’ll come back to me for further... correction, won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I burbled brainlessly.

“Such a good toy.” He chuckled appreciatively. “This whole artificial intelligence thing won’t last - at least, I hope not. But the appeal of a brainwashed sex toy? That never goes away...”

Even though I was so far in subspace as to not be conscious at that moment, I pulsed with arousal at his adoring words, and his intruding fingers, and the persistent, exquisite pain in my bright red bum cheeks.