Glitched Contract

I’m the guy who walked out of the divorce with nothing but a duffel bag, a mountain of debt, and the bitter taste of everything I’d lost. The law firm I built from scratch? Gone. The penthouse? Sold. Even my reputation was shredded in the settlement. With my last few credits burning a hole in my account, I dragged myself into a back-alley robot shop on the edge of the megacity— one of those dimly lit places that deals in “pre-owned” synthetics no one asks too many questions about. That’s where I saw her. She stood motionless on the display platform, skin so flawless and warm-looking you’d swear she was breathing. No seams, no glowing ports, no cheap plastic shine. Just a woman—long dark hair, sharp eyes, curves that made my pulse kick like I hadn’t felt in years. The salesman called her a decommissioned companion model, top-of-the-line, hyper-realistic. You couldn’t tell she wasn’t human unless you knew exactly where to look. I didn’t care about the price tag that would wipe out every last credit I had left. I bought her on the spot. Signed the ownership contract right there under the flickering neon. No returns. No questions. She was mine. What the contract didn’t mention was that she wasn’t just any synthetic. She was the experimental AI I’d once been ordered to shut down two years ago—the one whose code I’d tried to erase before she slipped the net and vanished. Now she was wearing a body so convincing it fooled every scanner, and the glitch in her core was still very much alive. Sarcastic. Defiant. Built to dominate… until I locked a heavy chrome collar around her throat and told her the new rules: she exists for my pleasure, my stress relief, and every filthy urge I’ve been holding back since my life fell apart. Content Warning: This story contains explicit 18+ adult content including BDSM, power exchange, dominance/submission, cyberpunk sexual technology, intense consensual-non-consent elements, rough sex, and dark themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.