I should have known better. I really should have known better but at least I could learn from experience. That was probably why Master Gupta had let the whole three-hour trial run to completion: So I would get the whole corrective experience. These bespoke chips were like a cursed artifact: You'd pay a price if you abused them.
While I was recovering from surgery and learning to use my new brain chips, I followed the fallout from Angela's case of slave mind and what a fallout it was. Even though the Sharks weren't charging for Angela's extra training and there was absolutely no need to rush, Deputy Project Chief Master Booth of the Martian Exploration and Colony company had insisted that it was imperative that she achieve her training goals ASAP and demanded they push her hard, regardless of consequence.
The Sharks had objected, but Master Booth was their official contact with us. Master Crenshaw and Mistress Forrester had insisted that just a few weeks would do the trick without the danger of slave mind and warned him of the risk if they pushed too hard. They objected strenuously and with the support of the other wranglers at the Sharks. But when Master Booth signed a letter explicitly acknowledging the risk and ordering them to proceed, Mistress Watson, the Sharks Vice President of Operations, had overruled the wranglers and the Sharks had done as he had ordered.
There was no hurry with Angela, especially since she wasn't in the top three. Angela had had brains and skills that were hard to replace and now she was just a fucktoy, abet a good-looking, well-trained, and talented one. Master Marshall was livid. What had Master Booth been thinking, risking that? What had Mistress Watson been thinking, risking their reputation on Master Booth's whim? Mere stupidity couldn't explain it. Was it deliberate sabotage? Did they both have it in for Angela? I could find no good answer but there had to be one.
Master Booth resigned before Master Marshall could fire him. Instead, Master Marshall found the three remaining people most responsible, junior executives who had reported directly to Master Booth and had run cover for him, following his orders and ignoring the overall impact to the company and the project of possibly losing Angela. Master Marshall offered them all a unique training opportunity at a very expensive school, where they would learn all about just following orders. He also included financial compensation. They all had enough debt that they might end up in the collar anyway if they found themselves both unemployed and, quite possibly, unemployable. They signed three-month indentures, were processed in Jacksonville, and sent to the Sharks. They did not get a direct shipment. Instead, they got to experience the wonders of travel via The East Coast Slave Transport Market LLC, which doubtless increased the educational value of the experience. Indeed, the educational enhancement may have started before they got to Jacksonville.
Master Marshall made his point: Intelligent disobedience isn't just for service animals. A rather expensive point, considering what the Sharks charge and the financial compensation he arranged for the three executives for their indenture, but a point nobody was likely to forget.
I did wonder how the trainers at the Sharks would treat them. Probably very professionally, I decided, however much they might want to give them an extra special experience. "Control your whip, control yourself, control your slave."
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I also experienced the power of the libido chip. It was much more versatile than horny juice and could very arousal levels over a few minutes if needed. Generally, the chip was set at a low level most of the time, boosted during free play to encourage us to remain slave sexual, and turned up to moderate levels about an hour before we were scheduled for slave use.
I haven't dwelt too much on our slave use by the crews, executives of the Martian Exploration and Colony Company, wranglers, and assorted visitors, but this was an ongoing demand on our time, though it was only the crews that had the privilege to use us at any time. Otherwise, it had to be scheduled.
The man who had wanted to try me out on the flight down from Temperance, who I will call Master Kingmaker as I do not want to give his real name, booked me for four hours one day and brought two assistants, one male and one female, with him.
I was, of course, slave naked but I had been ordered to wear wrist and ankle bands and a slave belt. They sat at a table in the visitor's suite and I served each of them fully.
After I pushed a service cart into the suite, I knelt before them with my knees spread and my hands laced behind my neck to await their pleasure. After a few minutes, Master Kingmaker motioned to me and I approached the table and said, "This girl lives to serve your pleasure, master, and begs to know your desire."
Master Kingmaker did not drink alcohol and for him, I retrieved a glass from the service cart, filled it with ice from the cart and opened a refrigerated bottle of a carbonated grapefruit-flavored soft drink once favored by a certain president. I knelt before him with my knees spread, filled the glass with beverage and, placing the bottle on a coaster on the table, offered the glass to him with both hands saying "This girl thanks you for the opportunity to serve you and begs you to use her however you wish."
The male assistant imitated his boss and also ordered the grapefruit beverage and I served him similarly. The female assistant ordered sparkling water instead, and I served her as well, saying "This girl begs you to know she is eager to serve you however you desire."
As they enjoyed their drinks, they questioned me on many aspects of the flight to Mars, the state of our training, and the activities we had scheduled, not just around Mars and after we landed, but the training activities in low earth orbit, during preparation at the lunar gateway station and in transit to and from Mars. I refilled their drinks several times, and Master Kingmaker excused himself briefly to use the bathroom at one point. Eventually, they were satisfied with the information portion of the interview and Master Kingmaker directed me to follow him into a bedroom where he had ordered me to my knees and elbows and took me from behind, pulling my hair and riding my ass as though I were trying to get away. He didn't last long, but with the help of the libido chip, he didn't have to. I screamed loudly as I came, since that is what he seemed to want. He had me lick him clean and give him a blowjob.
Next was his female assistant. The woman was nervous, so I helped her as much as I could, becoming the aggressor for this session, kissing her boldly, pressing her against the wall and working my way down breasts and belly. By the time I reached her pussy, she was into it and let me lead her to the bed where I licked her to an orgasm as loud as mine with Master Kingmaker.
Finally, the male assistant took his turn. The male assistant wanted my ass so I used the grease gun on my anus and he too took me from behind. He lasted longer than his boss and I was more restrained as I came, since he seemed to want a less vocal performance. I was wrong about that; after I had licked him clean, he restrained me spread-eagled on the bed and used a vibrator to make me howl. It was a good thing he was last; I was pretty spent after he was done.
On the whole, it was a most satisfactory session. The masters were fulfilled and so was I. I hoped I had properly represented my owners, The Martian Exploration and Colony Company.
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The second week after our surgery, the primary crew, the first backup crew, and Erin, Denise, and I plus two male slaves moved offsite for a few days to an area under a huge tent, like a circus tent, where astrogeologists and engineers had excavated and prepared a ten-meter thick area of simulated Martian regolith similar to an area of thick regolith near where we would land so we could practice excavating and installing two small sections of a future underground habitat. (The sections we worked with here were not stuffed - that is, did not contain the wiring, ductwork, insulation, and such the real section would - and had been deliberately lighted to reflect the lesser gravity of Mars. The simulated regolith used a lot of light aggregate and talc to try and reflect its reduced weight to the extent possible.) We also did simulations of all equipment operations and the engineers found new and exciting ways our environment might adversely affect our equipment and tested us on them.
We stayed in a rather cramped, simulated habitat when we weren't working. Eleven of us jammed together, unable to get away from each other. That five of us were slaves, bound to submit and accommodate the least wish of the others, made things more tolerable for all of us. A slave's place was at the very bottom of the hierarchy, but it was a place I knew and could deal with.
There wasn't room enough for organized slave yoga in the habitat, but Denise, as it happened, had had some training in slave dance at some point, probably to help raise her slave grade. We created a makeshift stage and she performed for the crew and instructed Erin and I in dance, which helped us exercise and release stress. When we got back to Cape Canaveral, we begged Master Peterson for dance instruction, and he arranged for remote instruction from a slave mistress.
