Chapter 11 - The Party is interrupted
Master Greg's Private Residence
His personal slave Kelly, whom he also liked to call Slave Number Four, was in his bed riding him cowgirl style this morning. Another one of his black friends was pounding her ass from behind. She was drooling nonstop now, probably dehydrated too. She wore a special headband that continually wirelessly recharged the probes in her head; they would have been drained of power long before now without it. He really wished he could have more than two personal slaves, but unfortunately, two was the limit for employees, and his Salary from work would stretch his budget to pay the fees involved in keeping a third personal slave. She was really quite an attractive white girl; it was a shame he had to waste such a beauty. He selected her to make room for his new acquisition. He invited several more friends for the big event, they have been using her nonstop the last two days. His friends agreed it was a real waste; give her to them, they would whore her and make more than enough to pay for the fees. Tempting, but he didn't trust them enough to take that kind of risk; if they screwed up, it would be his head on the chopping block and lose his head he would. His other personal slave, Sandy, was standing by the bed, handing out water and snacks to help keep them going. She would occasionally help entertain his friends, but they were told to concentrate their efforts on Kelly.
He would often touch Kelly's head with his ring and give her level 8, 9, and occasionally ten levels of doses pleasure. He made sure to have her do an enema before they started, and he gave her a dose of level 10 while sitting on the towel to empty her bladder before allowing the fucking of her on his bed. The pleasure center of the brain could only take so much voltage, and when too many level 10 intensity doses were used for too long, it fried the pleasure center of the brain. When this happened, it affected other parts of her brain; her brain would stop telling her heart to beat, and she would die of a heart attack. She was going out with a bang, so to speak. He did the same when he had to dispose of his last personal slave to make room for Sandy. It was a pleasurable way to die, but not yet; she had another day, maybe two before that happened.
The phone rang; typically, he would ignore it, damn telemarketers, but it was his work phone. It had a different ringtone. He could not ignore a call from work.
He picked up the phone, "What is it!" he angrily answered the phone.
Master Thomas replied, "It's me. The dispensaries are on the fritz, and you need to come in and look at them."
Master Greg said, "You're bothering me for this; have my personal assistant 2004 deal with them."
"I tried that already; she failed. It's been going on for two days; she failed to fix the issue yesterday, and it happened again today." Master Thomas said.
"What about Master Bill? He's practically living there." Master Thomas barked.
'It's your responsibility. If you don't want to deal with it, I'll have to go over your head and inform your division leader, ' Master Thomas threatened.
"No, No, No. There's no need for that; I'll be right in." Greg answered fearfully that involving upper management was never a good idea. People tended to get fired at best and killed at worst for not attending to their duties.
He hung up the phone and looked into his young slave's eyes; she couldn't have been older than 23. Sorry, my Princess, I'll have to finish with you later. And with that, he tossed her off him.
I have to go to work, he told his crew.
"What! On a Sunday, the big game starts this afternoon." One of them replied.
"I should only be a few hours, plenty of time to get back in time." Master Greg said.
"What about her." one of them indicted his slave on the bed.
"Please continue to enjoy her, but give her some water. I want to be here when the life fades from her eyes," Master Greg replied. Only he had a ring, so they would not be able to damage her mind while he was away. With that, he got dressed and rushed off to work. Fortunately, it was pretty close, only a 35-minute drive down the expressway.
Master Greg arrived at work, made his way to his office, stripped off his clothes as was a dress code requirement, and immediately summoned his personal assistant in 2004. As soon as she arrived, which didn't take long, her office was near his; he started screaming at her, and couldn't she take care of a simple issue without him? He threatened to turn her into hamburger meat and feed her to the other slaves for lunch. Master Greg grabbed a whip off the wall and started crudely whipping his assistant. After a few violent whip lashes on her body, he was satisfied he put the fear of God, or more accurately, him, into her.
He ordered her to tell him everything that had happened so far. He checked the computer logs. All the slaves were issued their daily medication; it just took longer than expected. Also, no issues were noted in the computer logs. The machines were working perfectly; it's just that no slaves used them all morning until the very end of the morning rush. With four dispensaries open, there shouldn't have been any issues or lines.
Master Greg called Master Thomas's assistant, slave 3535; she was a white woman, 5' 8", with long blonde hair and double D tits; besides the slave, he just traded Master Thomas for, she was the 2
nd
most attractive of Master Thomas's slaves. She had a thick metal collar, just as his assistant had, with the words "Property of Master Thomas" printed on it. On her Crotch above her bar code was tattooed "Property of Master Thomas." Master Thomas jealously protected this particular stallion, which was another reason Master Greg was so surprised he readily agreed to trade 4634, who was, in his opinion, more of a treasure. Also, Slave 3535 did not have one whip mark to blemish her body. Strange. He dismissed the thought and ordered 3535 to bring up the morning medication dispensary recorded video. He couldn't tell what was going on; Slaves were milling about clueless in a long line to get their morning medication, and the lines seemed to get better as he watched. It looks like he would have to personally supervise tomorrow's morning medication dispensary to get to the root of the issue.
If Master Greg had bothered to watch the video from the beginning to the end, he would have learned what the cause was, but he was impatient, jumping around in the time stamps in the recorded video, learning nothing. Little did he know that Slave 3535 purposely only displayed video clips of the incident that didn't explain what the issue was.
Frustrated he would be stuck at work, he ordered his assistant 2004 to send him his newest slave, 4634. He would fuck the shit out of her, getting rid of this morning's tension, and attack the issue when he could think more clearly.
A minute later, Slave 4634 arrived, and when Master Greg looked up, she wasn't the Angel he raped two days ago, but some below-average slut with sagging tits and an acme completion. She had a tattoo BLACK FATHER'S FUCKER on her crotch, but it definitely wasn't the same slut. Master Greg was about to go ape-shit mad when he realized her number 4634 was clearly tattooed on the front of her. Could he have made a mistake when reading her number name?