A.I.Dentity - Chapter Seventeen

“…look at you, just pretty as a picture…”

Leslie felt numb.  This was partially due to having sat on a stool for so long that his butt and legs fell asleep.  On top of that was the emotional numbness.  He had retreated into his denial.  This could not be happening, and once the woman was out of the house, he would figure out how to undo all of this and get his life back.  

The voice of his ‘Mistress’ had been thankfully quiet during the last couple of hours.  Maybe the hair dryer had provided a nice cover, or he behaved well enough not to be disciplined.

…or maybe it has broken, and this nightmare can be over…

His numb brain latched onto that hope with all its might, clinging onto it with emotional fingernails as if dangling from a cliff.

“Remember, take care of those nails.  Your lips will probably be super sensitive for the next few days.  Do not shampoo or condition until at least Wednesday and only once before our appointment next Saturday.  We will hot-oil your hair then and give it some life back.”

Leslie nodded.  His brain was not listening.  She had been rattling instructions for the last forty-five minutes.  There was no way he was going to remember all of this.

“Ok, real quick before I go… stand over there, please.”

Numbly, he let himself be ushered to the little hallway next to the front door.

“Ok, let me see that smile…”

Leslie’s eyes widened.  Her phone was in photo mode, and she was pointing at him.

“I don’t…”

She was already looking at the photo she had taken, pinching and zooming on what was undoubtedly a photo of him looking like this.

“You’re going in my portfolio.  Seriously, what a difference!”

“Listen, I don’t think…”

She chuckled to herself as Leslie heard the ‘whoosh’ sound of a message being sent. His eyes widened, and he shook his head, trying to unsend the message with his brain.

“Now look, this is not…”

She was not listening.

“If you don’t mind, please fill out our customer survey sent to your email.  It’ll save you twenty percent on the next session, and it will only take a minute.”

She smirked at him.

“Or have your Mistress fill out the survey.”

Survey completed.

The voice of his ‘Mistress’ filled the room, and the woman laughed.  The voice stomped on that last shred of hope Leslie had in his heart.

“I have got to get me one of those.”

Leslie had to stop her.  The photo of him being out in the world had broken through the numbness, making his whole body ache with fear.

“Ms. Amy, I want to…”

One of his new strawberry-blonde bangs drifted down into his face, and her hand went up to lightly touch it.

“Oh,” she laughed, her hand playing with the strands of his hair. “Tipping is encouraged but not expected.”

Payment adjusted.  Twenty-five percent gratuity added.

“Oh.”

Ms. Amy’s face beamed with pleasure.  Twenty-five percent of this bill was a nice haul for the day.

“Thank you.”

Leslie started to plead for her to delete the photo again but realised that Ms Amy had turned away. She was not thanking him; she was thanking the AI.

You are welcome, Ms. Amy.  We have your appointment for next Saturday at 8 AM on the calendar.

She moved to the living area to pick up her bag, focusing entirely on the AI and not Leslie.  He followed her, feeling all the world like a puppy dog begging for attention.

“Now make sure Leslie does not damage those nails.  It is easy to do if you are not used to them.”

Leslie will be trained on proper care and maintenance of his new nails.

“Wonderful.  If there are any other services you would like to add next week, feel free to add them to the appointment request.  Happy to spend extra time with our little Leslie here.”

Leslie felt bewildered.  She was talking to the AI as if it were a person and Leslie were not even here.

Do you have any recommendations?

“Um, Ms. Amy, about next Saturday…”

Leslie felt small.  His voice felt invisible.  He was painfully aware that he was having difficulty keeping his mouth closed.  His lips were so puffy that the corners of them were keeping the middle from completely closing.  

“We offer a full range of services.  I notice Leslie does not have his ears pierced yet.  We also offer a range of waxing and laser hair-removal options, different makeup packages and teeth whitening sessions.”

The appointment has been altered, and recommended services have been added.

Both Ms. Amy and Leslie shook their heads, her in amusement and delight, his in horror and protest.

“Um… no no no… I think…”

The woman turned towards him, finally acknowledging that he was talking to her.  

“You’re going to love it.  Some little studs in those ears…”

Her hand gently pinched his right earlobe… and it stopped the protest trying to burst out as if it was his mute button.  He stared at her, his mouth open, his eyes wide.

“You have been a joy to work on, Leslie!  I’ll see you next Saturday.”

Her lips pursed, giving his cheek an air kiss, and then she was heading out the door. He started to follow, trying to stop her—trying to stop all of this…

…but his front door opened up to a long hallway of apartments.  He could hear people out there.  

…and he could not be seen like this.

He quickly shut the door behind the woman.  The apartment felt a billion times quieter without the loud and talkative woman.  Flipping the deadbolt on the door caused him to stab his finger with one of his new, longer nails.  He had to slow down and turn to the side a little to grab the knob and turn.  His hands looked alien, tipped with little pink nails that seemed to belong to another creature.

He had to see.

He rushed to the bathroom, his heart pounding.  It had been hours of hair styling and makeup application.  All of his senses felt overwhelmed with femininity.  The smell of the makeup and hair products alone made him tingle with every breath.

Sliding into the bathroom, his heart seemed to stop.

“That can’t be me…”

His voice came out of the woman in the mirror and caused a sense of dysphoria.  

She was stunning.  Like a model who just stepped out of a photo shoot, her makeup looked like something off an award show runway.  Her lips pouted, showing a hint of her teeth in the middle due to their size.  And her hair…

She shook her head, watching the swishy, flowing strawberry locks float back and forth.

“It can’t be…”

Between his legs, the cage gripped his penis like a vice.  It was so tight that it ached, and Leslie could feel the damp arousal that was oozing out of him as he looked at this bombshell in the mirror.

Please return to the main room, Leslie.  Your first punishment is about to begin.

The girl in the mirror looked alarmed, and Leslie felt his stomach drop.

“First punishment?”

You refused to answer the door and were assigned two additional punishments.  The first will begin in sixty seconds.  Failure to comply will result in additional punishments.  

“Oh, God…”

The masculine-sounding woman in the mirror looked horrified.  

Yet between his legs, there was another squirting ache.  The idea of the woman in the mirror getting punished and being bent over and spanked… or made to stand in the corner.  She would look so hot doing that.  

…oh God…

The crushing realisation that he would look hot being punished made the swelling, wet ache between his legs even worse.

Thirty seconds.

He heard a whimpering sound that must have come from himself and frantically left the bathroom towards the main living area.

Please sit at the computer.

His permanently pursed lips formed a pout that probably made them even poofier.

…more punishment lines…

His backside had barely hit the seat as the screen flicked on, already on a blank Google Document.

Please type the following statement:  My name is Leslie. 

He started to type the words.  Words he had almost ingrained into him from the last punishment session.  Yet now, it was so much harder.  His new nails made him change how he had his fingers on the keys.  The nails prevented it from being where he usually typed with his fingertips.  He had to flatten his hands so that each key was hit with the pad of his fingers.  It made it feel incredibly slow and foreign.

 I am a bad girl.  

His hands had already begun typing a different phrase.  The one from last night.  It was supposed to be ‘I have been a bad girl’.  He backspaced and retyped to change the phrase.  He didn’t know why this change made him so uneasy, but the difference between having been bad, and being bad hit weirdly in his stomach.

Bad girls need to be punished.  I need to be punished like the bad girl I am.

Oof.  He looked at the statement, feeling the overwhelming submissive horniess of the situation tightening in his cage.  

Please type this five hundred times while saying the words out loud. 

His already open mouth dropped open further.

Say it out loud?

He blinked.  He had expected another endless typing session, but having to say the degrading statements over and over…

Mistakes will add time to your chastity time.  Do you understand, Leslie?

He dared not argue.  He had to get out of this chastity cage.  The need to cum was virtually all his brain could focus on.  His eyes shifted focus, and he saw the face of the beautiful woman, her perfect makeup and hair, dimly reflected on the screen in front of him.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Good girl.  Please begin.

“My… name… is… Leslie.”

It was slow and tedious.  He said the words as he typed them, but having to go slow to avoid errors and to compensate for his new nails was agony.

“I… am… a bad… girl.”

Saying the words out loud was mortifying.  It made the punishment so much worse.

“Bad… girls… need to… be… punished.”

Each period seemed to make him throb down below.  His eyes caught sight of the sexy girl reflected dimly on the screen.  Her lips were so full.  They looked perfect for…

““I need… to be… punished… like… the… bad girl… I am…”

The word ‘girl’ is typed incorrectly.  Ten minutes have been added to your time-safe countdown.

Leslie winced.  His nail had hit ‘o’ while typing the ‘l’, resulting in the word ‘girol’. 

“Sorry, Mistress.”

Your time in chastity is set to Eleven hours, three minutes and fifteen seconds.

Leslie wanted to cry.  Eleven more hours.  That was almost double the amount he had started with when he first closed the safe.  And every typo was only going to add to that time.

Please continue your punishment, Leslie.

He typed as slowly and as carefully as he could. He was saying each word carefully as he typed it.

“I… am… a bad… girl.”

…and despite his best intentions, the mistakes continued to happen.