Ally's Adventure at WonderCon

Ally's Adventure at WonderCon

It was late Saturday night. Ally told herself it was no big deal that she was missing the masquerade. The giant convention center's main room was so big that you couldn't see the stage anyway and ended up watching it on the nearly floor-to-ceiling screens. What fun was that? Also she was worn out from walking the dealers' room for over 6 hours, the last 4 with the weight of the 4 graphic novels she'd bought and all that gear she'd found, leather shackles, and the real bonus, silk ropes, guaranteed to be unbreakable and not leave any marks as well as to feel great against the skin.

Those were just excuses though. She was on a mission. Amongst all the panel discussions about animation, comic books, fantasy, and horror were a number of panels about everybody's current obsession, AI. There was the National Association of Voice Actors (NAVA) and their claim that they could train a computer to mimic your voice with a single 3-second recording of it. They claimed to have done this to congressmen they were lobbying for protection from such dangerous technology and to have scared the tar out of them. Then there were the alternating views about how AI was allowing you to make independent movies with minimal crews, and the flip side of how it was going to put all of us out of work as it pirated everybody's copyrighted work. She'd played with AI, and found it was easy to spot the flaws in AI art, like three-armed men and women with lumps for hands, and stupidly repetitive phrases in AI chat.

She'd taken a shower and was sitting at her laptop dressed only in an open bathrobe. She was facing the 9th floor window of her room in the Wilton Hotel, but she wasn't worried. The open laptop prevented any unseemly views although she had to admit that she got a tingle thinking about having only the laptop's thin display between her and the city. She really loved the view that showed her quite a bit of the city's night skyline when she wasn't paying full attention to the laptop.

What was intriguing her now was the panel on using hypnotic language for dynamic storytelling, or rather, perhaps, the panel's leader. He certainly had the charisma he talked about. He may not have been handsome, well maybe a little handsome, but with the skills of a professional hypnotist, he sure knew how to hold a room. It was his claim that he had created an interactive chatbot trained on his techniques that had kept circling through her mind while she was in the shower. Certainly that showed his first technique for Hypnotic Language in Storytelling, The Call to Action, had worked on her. He had been just matter of fact about his AI's ability to fool almost anyone, implicitly laying down a challenge that he must have known would, for certain people, be hard to resist. Ally was not just any gullible mark on her first rodeo, but she wanted to prove that his AI was just as flawed as all the others. No, she needed to prove it to herself. No chatbot could replace a real person.

She wasn't sure what to expect as she typed in the website. He had been very vague about what it was exactly, but made sure to repeat the name several times and also to include the site's URL on the handout. And that, she just realized, was him using his second technique successfully on the audience, or, at least, on her. He called that technique Open Loops, leaving clues that more was to come to keep the audience waiting impatiently on the reveal.

She was startled by the flash of the logo for the website that was quickly obscured by a large pop-up window that insisted that you certify you were over 18 before proceeding. He hadn't even hinted that it was that kind of a website. That only made it more of a challenge. After she confirmed her birth year, country and state/province of residence, the website's main page finally displayed. There was a list of category abbreviations, most of which she recognized, M/f for male dominant, female submissive, F/m for the opposite, M/m, F/f for the homosexually inclined, even MMM/f—for gang banging? There was a tab for advanced options which included various types of kinks, but she ignored that for now, and just chose M/f. That left her a list of male names to choose from, each including an evocative picture, ranging from biker and shirtless pro-wrestling type to construction worker, athletic-looking man with good slacks and a button-up shirt open at the neck, to a three-piece suit wearing man with a slight smirk, all the way to overweight, over the hill businessman with a protruding belly and an egotistic look on his face to match. Ally was impressed by how well the images said all she needed to know about the personalities to choose from. She chose David, Mr. business casual, athletic type.

Tell me about yourself. Start with what you're wearing since you have a pic of me, and I don't have one of you.

Just a bathrobe.
An open bathrobe

She typed the last line, deciding to see how it responded to teasing.

A good start. I like the pretty, sassy ones.
How do you know I'm pretty?
I need you to get a hand towel and fold it into 3 layers, then put it on the desk beside your laptop.
Wait, you didn't answer my question!
That's right. Did you think you came here to interrogate me? Now, do it and bring some ropes too.

Whoah! This was disconcerting. “David” was making a lot of assumptions. She bit her lip realizing that he/it was right about her having ropes. Am I losing control of this situation? No, I'm here alone in my hotel room. I'm in charge. Let's see how far this goes.

yt

Again she was taken aback. “David” had apparently calculated that she was taking too long to get back to him.

Give me a sec

You can take that belt from around your bathrobe that you're not using too. Put it on the table next to the towel and other ropes.

She actually shivered at that. That was not like any bot that she'd ever encountered. It was like “David” somehow could actually draw conclusions from her casual earlier remark. Was this really a bot? But the responses came faster than someone could type, just like with a real chatbot.

Do it, girl. Just because you're sexy and smart doesn't mean you can get away with being a bad girl. I could end this right now if you're going to act like that.
Ok, ok…

Her fingers had typed that without her even thinking. She rushed to the bathroom to get the hand towel, and pulled the ropes from her carry bag. She was actually flushed when she sat back down. She started to type her response then remembered and pulled the belt from her bathrobe and put it next to the ropes and folded towel.

I've done as you requested, Sir.

I didn't REQUEST anything. I TOLD you what to do, and don't you forget it. Since you've been a bad girl, cross your ankles and tie them together.

She found her lips quivering, and she hesitated but then quickly mastered herself, taking one of the silk ropes and tying her crossed ankles together with three passes and then cinched them tightly, pulling as hard as she could.

Tightly!

Yes Sir. Done Sir. Very tightly.

Her nipples had stiffened, and she was breathing hard. The commands were coming almost too fast for her to think. She just had time to do as she was ordered.

Now tie the towel around your forehead.

Like a bandit?

Bandit, workout queen, whatever. Do you think I care about your fantasies?
Again a response she could never have imagined. It sounded way too real.
Yes Sir. I mean no Sir. Done, Sir.

Turn on the microphone on your computer.

She hesitated. Did she really want to go there? She started to type a response, but a new text came in.

No, you don't get to ask questions. I told you that already. Just do it!

“Yes Sir,” she responded, this time aloud after turning on the microphone.

“Now tie your wrists together the same way you did your ankles,” came David's sonorous voice from her computer.
Despite her trembling hands fumbling awkwardly, she was able to secure her wrists tightly together. Her second length of rope was much longer than the first, and she needed that so that she could step on it with both feet in order to pull the knot at her wrists tight. That left a long line hanging down from the knot.
“Duh...duh...done Sir.”

“Better. Now pull the towel down from your forehead to make a blindfold. Make sure you can't see anything.”

“Yes Sir.”
“I see nothing, Sir.”

“Are you getting wet, little girl?”

“Nnnno. No.”

“LIAR!”
The booming voice that contradicted her, left her shaking, especially since, with the towel blindfold, she couldn't see anything. Her thoughts seemed to be in total disarray.

“So...sorry, Sir.”
“Put your hands down to your pussy and use your fingers, then bring them back up to your face.”
“Now put them in your mouth.”
“Suck on them!”
“That's your arousal. That's what my cock will taste like in your mouth after I fuck you.”

She was stunned by his sudden forcefulness. She did exactly as told as if she were no longer in control of her own body. She sucked on her slick fingers greedily, then, worried that her master couldn't tell that she had obeyed, she did her best to speak around her fingers.

“Swrrr! Ahmm sckkkng Swrr. Yesss, vrrry wet Swrr. Ahm srrry Swrr.”

“Good. Now take that silly bathrobe off. I want you fully exposed to me.”

That is just a figure of speech, right? He can't really see me. I only turned on the microphone, not the camera. She pushed the bathrobe over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Caught up in the moment, she stood, wobbling on her crossed ankles. She started to blush, then changed her mood. She looked defiantly towards the window that she couldn't see. Somehow being blindfolded seemed to free something inside of her. Get a good look, perverts! she thought though she knew nobody was likely looking from the far-away city windows.

She flung her head back proudly, letting her hair fly and then settle around her face and shoulders.
“Should I turn around for you Master, so you can see all of me?”

She was fully in the role now, feeling good about being tied and displaying herself to her master. She felt excited and fulfilled. She was totally turned on, and she could even feel her juices slowly sliding down her thighs.

“Good slave. Put your hands over your head, so I can see all of you. Turn around slowly. Show me that body that belongs to me now.” came the voice that she fantasized could be coming from anywhere now that she couldn't see.
She did as directed and was halfway through her awkward, slow-motion pirouette when she heard noises outside her door.
Reality suddenly intruded on her fantasy. She stopped in mid-pirouette. I'm safe, right? Even if someone has the key, I closed the hotel door latch not just the door, didn't I?
There were scratching sounds at the door now, and Ally began to panic. She needed to get to the door! She began to hop towards the noises at the door but fell after a few hops. The sounds were now sounding like thumps, not knocks, as if someone's body were pushing, or maybe being pushed, against the door. She caterpillared forward as fast as she could with her wrists and ankles bound, arching her back to push her knees forward, then straightening it again as she leaned down to thrust her bound wrists in front of her then drag herself forward to start the cycle again. She was glad no one was watching because she must be making quite a sight with her breasts bouncing wildly as she undulated across the floor, never even thinking to take the blindfold off. She was close now, so she stood once again teetering on her crossed ankles. Just a little more, and I can reach up and latch the door. She lunged forward only to find herself pulled to a stop when the rope end that dangled between her wrists pulled suddenly taut between her legs, making her gasp as it goosed her. It must have tangled on something!

She heard laughter coming from her laptop.
“Beautiful! I couldn't have done that to you if I'd planned it.”
She turned around to pull on the rope to dislodge it, but it merely wrapped tightly around her thighs.

“No!”

“I love that view too. You have a sweet ass, little slave.”
Wait! The voice was still coming from the computer, but the view he was describing was from the door!

“How?”
She looked back over her shoulder in alarm.

“It's called a reverse peephole viewer, silly girl. Thank you for tying yourself up. I'll be inside in a moment to help.”

She yanked and yanked at the rope wrapped around and threaded through her thighs. Now that she finally realized she could just have just pushed her blindfold up, she couldn't anymore. Her wrists were pulled tight against her crotch. One last pull just caused her to lose her balance, and she fell to her knees.

“You can't get in,” she gasped, hoping it were true. Then she heard her own voice from her laptop.

“Start Wilton Winners app.”

Noooo! The bastard had cloned her voice and was using it to command her own phone.

“Unlock door.”

Maybe my cell phone's not close enough to the door!

Then she heard the little 4 note chime and the distinct ratcheting of the door lock disengaging. She gave up her struggles and dropped her head. For better or worse, her fantasy was about to meet reality as she knelt naked, bound, and sightless for David, her AI captor to claim as she heard the door slam behind him.