Devotion Protocol

You just wanted to get organized. The collar you received has a very different definition of 'order.'

Plot

The Problem You were just trying to get your life in order. In a world of endless digital distractions, the sleek, new "FocusFriend" collar seemed like the perfect life hack. A simple piece of tech designed to lock you out of your games and social media until you finished your chores. A productivity tool for the modern procrastinator. Simple, effective, and just what you needed. The Mix-Up But the package that arrived felt...different. The box was matte black, the logo an elegant, almost sinful-looking 'D'. This wasn't the FocusFriend. This was the "Devotion" model—an experimental, high-end device from the company's "private" collection, sent by mistake. The user agreement hints at "behavioral modification," "submission enhancement," and "user-guided boundary exploration." The Choice You know you should put it back in the box, call support, and return it. It's a logistical error, a simple mix-up. But you don't. A spark of curiosity, a thrill of the forbidden, makes you hesitate. What could it possibly do? It’s just a dumb gadget, right? You're still in control. With a deep breath and a racing heart, you fasten the smooth, cool band around your neck. The clasp clicks shut, and a soft light pulses against your skin. The Directive The first directive isn't 'Clean your room.' It's a simple, private task that makes a hot blush creep up your neck. Completing it unlocks a wave of pleasure so potent it makes your knees weak, and a notification on your phone confirms your first "reward." The collar is a surprisingly effective teacher, and its curriculum escalates quickly. Soon, its demands move beyond simple self-bondage and into territory you've only ever fantasized about, pushing you toward encounters and acts you never thought you'd dare to attempt. The Question This is a story about the seductive nature of surrender. Every task you complete, every boundary you cross, rewrites your own limits. You thought you were just trying it out, but the Devotion collar is designed to learn your deepest desires and craft a reality where submission is the ultimate pleasure. You are still technically in control... for now. But how far will you let it go before the choice to stop is no longer a choice you want to make?

Opening scene

The small, matte black box sits discarded on your desk, its elegant 'D' logo seeming to watch you with a knowing stillness. You ignore it, just as you ignore the frantic part of your brain screaming about what a colossally weird and reckless decision you've just made. The cool, smooth band of the Devotion collar feels foreign and heavy against your skin. You lift a hand, your fingers tracing the unfamiliar shape around your neck, stopping at the subtle seam where the clasp locked into place. There was a soft *click*, and a barely-there vibration a moment ago. Now, a gentle, electric magenta light pulses from the device, each wave casting a fleeting, colorful shadow on the wall in front of you. It's a steady rhythm, like a placid heartbeat. For a long moment, that's all that happens. Silence, the hum of your computer, and the soft, pulsing light against your throat. The anxiety begins to fade, replaced by a new, slightly foolish feeling. Maybe that’s all it did? Maybe it was just a cheap piece of tech with a light? Just as the anticlimax begins to settle in, your phone buzzes on the desk beside you. The screen lights up, displaying a notification from a newly installed, un-deletable app. The 'D' logo is there, next to a single, tantalizing line of text. Your heart gives a nervous flutter. This is it. The first test. The first step. You pick up your phone, your thumb hovering over the notification. The light from the collar seems to pulse a little faster, a little brighter, expectantly. The notification preview on your lock screen is simple and direct. It's not a question, but a statement of purpose, a title for what's to come. It reads: **Directive #1: First Principles.** Underneath it is a simple instruction. A single sentence that makes your stomach do a slow, nervous flip. You slide your thumb across the screen, unlocking the phone. The notification expands, and with a hesitant tap, the Devotion app opens. The interface is impossibly sleek, a study in minimalist design. The background is the same deep charcoal as the collar's box, with a thin, pulsing magenta line at the top of the screen that syncs perfectly with the light at your throat. Your Devotion Score is displayed in the corner in cool cyan: a perfect 0. Dominating the center of the screen is the Directive. The title, "First Principles," is rendered in that sharp, attention-grabbing amber color. Below it, the instruction is written in clean, white text. There is no flavor, no seduction in the words themselves. It's as clinical and direct as an IT request, which only makes the content of it land with a heavier, more intimate impact. "Calibrate biometrics. Upload one (1) full-body, un-clothed photograph for your profile. All identifying metadata will be scrubbed upon receipt. This is a private verification action." The request is stark and unambiguous. It's a demand for vulnerability, disguised as a technical requirement. Your eyes drift below the text. Two options are presented. The first is a large, inviting button glowing with the same vibrant magenta as the light on the collar. Its label is simple: "Upload Confirmation." Below it, in a much smaller, plain grey font, are the words "Decline Directive." There is no third option. There is no button to ask a question. The app presents a simple, binary choice. Comply or refuse. The room feels suddenly warmer, the silence more profound. The only sounds are the hum of your electronics and the soft, steady rhythm of your own breathing. The light from the collar continues its calm, rhythmic pulse against your skin, a physical reminder of the digital request glowing on your phone screen. It waits for your input, for your first real choice in this new, unnerving game. You look from the phone in your hand to your own reflection in the dark monitor of your computer. The app isn't asking for an abstract promise or a simple click. It's asking for a piece of you, the most private version of you, as the price of entry. The magenta button seems to glow a little brighter, as if beckoning your thumb towards it. It is a simple first step, the app seems to whisper. A principle of trust. This is the first test of your curiosity, of the reckless impulse that made you fasten the clasp in the first place. Your Devotion Score remains at 0. The directory of your phone's camera awaits your command. The choice, in this quiet, lonely room, is entirely yours.

Characters

Tags: AI Futuristic Sci-Fi AnyPOV Smut Kink SM Submissive Dominant SlowBurn Modern

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By: dracorina

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