The Cost of My Dreams

The Cost of My Dreams Ch. 05 - Final Selection by LoyalHound

This is a work of Erotic Fantasy. As such, it is not real and does not depict real events or any real person. All characters, businesses, institutions, places, publications, and events in this story are either fictional or are used fictitiously as you might expect in a story where slavery is legally enforced throughout the modern United States. All characters are adults.

Note: In addition to the other mistakes I made in chapter four, I introduced a continuity error: In chapter one, our heroine described training on the Ares Four transport vehicle. In chapter four I wrongly described the current vehicle as the Ares Three. In this chapter I've elected to preserve the original continuity.

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I was confined to a hospital bed after surgery but the project had continued. Cheryl, Susan, and the second backup crew had been lifted to low earth orbit and were preparing to move the Ares Four, now dubbed "Ares Rising" to the lunar gateway station so it could be fueled for the trip to Mars. There was a lot of information coming in plus I was reviewing the documentation for the chips they'd implanted in me when I got the bright idea of using the concentration enhancement function.

"Master Micheal," I said, addressing the AI "this slave begs for you to start a three-hour trial of the concentration-enhancing function."

"I will activate the concentration-enhancing function for three hours. Are you sure you wish to do this?"

"Yes master," I said and much of the world retreated. My focus narrowed and I went thru page after page of the documentation and reference studies of the chips and of reports from the Ares Four, not conscious of time passing. After a time, my focus abruptly ended and I came back to myself.

A doctor, Master Gupta, and a nurse, Mistress Bowie were in the room. My eyes felt dry and irritated, my head felt muddled and I really needed to stretch and make water. I shook my head and tried to clear it and stretched as much as I could. I felt wasted.

"Master," I said to the doctor "Star begs for the bedpan that she might not mess herself and this bed."

Master Gupta told the nurse "Help her," and the nurse got me the bedpan which I used while he studied me.

He said "I see you've been experimenting with the concentration enhancement function. You seem to have overdone it."

"Yes master, Star has overdone the concentration enhancement function. She underestimated the power of the function and regrets the inconvenience this has caused you, master."

He leaned over, tapped my head with his finger, and said "Star is valuable and expensive property, yet a thoughtless slave has ignored instructions and put that property at risk. What should be done with a slave who fails to protect her master's property?"

Crap. "Master, Star begs for correction that she might learn to better protect her master's property."

"Micheal, please administer fifteen punishment shocks at level ten to Star."

The pain hit and the muscles under the electrodes of my collar contracted. Then a brief period of relief, then another shock. I had been warned to take it slow when testing my new abilities. At first, I attempted to remain silent and bear my punishment as befitted a slave receiving a well-deserved correction from her master, but I could not help crying as the shocks continued. After the fifteenth such shock, I pulled myself together and said "Star thanks you for the instruction of the shock collar that she may learn to better protect her master's property."

"How did you find the experience? With the concentrate function, I mean."

I tried to control my tears. "Master, Star has never been able to concentrate so hard before but does not know how long she experienced it. She believes that the concentrate function is, perhaps, too strong."

"So noted," said Master Gupta as he sat on the bed and held me until I stopped crying. Then he said "You experienced the full three hours you requested. In the future, a maximum of one hour will be permitted at a stretch."

"Master is wise and kind," I said. Indeed, he was kind: Disobedience, endangering a valuable slave, and inconveniencing medical staff, disrupting their schedules because I thought I was being clever. I probably deserved the cane for that. A good thing I wasn't in charge of my own punishments.

"I'll be back in an hour so we can start getting you on your feet. In the meantime, no further study. Stretch, do your bed exercises, watch a video or two, or put on some music."

"Yes, master."

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.

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During the fourth week since our surgery, Master Peterson scheduled me for his personal service. When the time of our coupling approached, I was surprised that the libido chip, far from starting to boost my arousal before the service, seemed to have cut out entirely. I asked Master Michael about that.

"Master Michael," I asked "Star begs you to check the function of her libido chip. It doesn't seem to be working, master. "

"Your normal libido boost has been canceled until after your coupling with Master Peterson."

I restrained the urge to ask about that. Ideal curiosity could be punished in a slave and it was almost certain that the order to cut my libido boost had come from Master Peterson and, from my readings, I had a pretty good guess about the reason.

When the time came, chip or not, I was looking forward to it. When I had arrived at his quarters, he motioned me to the foot of the bed, where he had the usual bondage items and he undressed. As I secured a leash to my collar and an eyebolt in the floor and put on the wrist and ankle bands, the gag, the spreader bar, and the slave belt, my desire grew, not to the level it had been with the chip, but I was still excited by being retrained and used as a slave. Before he secured my hands to the slave belt, Master Peterson had me kneel and kiss his bare feet and slowly work my way up his bare legs. When he secured my hands and positioned me on his bed, he took his sweet time with me, extending the foreplay beyond what I needed when the chip was employed. I nevertheless warmed quickly, if not as quickly as when the libido chip was engaged. The sex was satisfying in a way it never quite was with the insatiable need of the horny juice or the chip, though my pleasure was not so intense.

Afterward, he told me "Up to now, almost all your sexual activity as a slave has been under the influence of either horny juice or the libido chip. Until now, you've been able to tell yourself you didn't really want to be fucked and degraded by the commonplace slaves, that was just the horny juice. You didn't really want to provide slave services to Joe or Ed, that was just the chip. But now you see it wasn't just the horny juice. The horny juice was a tool to ease your transition into slavery and make you a better, well-adjusted slave but that transition is now complete."

As I expected, he was using the "Willful Participation Paradigm", which is a standard slave training technique wherein a slave is made to accept that, at some level and to some degree, she wants and deserves the treatment she receives. Having a name for it didn't mean it wasn't both true and effective, however. "No master, it wasn't just the horny juice; it wasn't just the chip. Star chose this indenture, master. Part of Star likes being a slave, master."

"Only part?"

"Yes master, the rest of Star looks forward to the end of her indenture, master. If master wants Star after her indenture ends, master will have to court her in a more conventional way." Then I added, "Star would welcome such a suit."

"This is sounding like one of those slave romance novels."

"Master is not a billionaire and Star is not innocent."

"Don't expect me to go easy on you."

"No master, Star is counting on you to make her the best slave she can be, master."

True to his word, Master Peterson did not ease up on me even a little for the duration of my enslavement and I would have lost respect for him if he had. He also disabled my libido chip boost for all of our future couplings and, when I requested it, with all future couplings with the primary crew and other wranglers. I found I still looked forward to all of my couplings with the primary crew, even with Mistress Gonzales.

When Mistress Gonzales called me to her service and we kissed and fondled each other, I was eager to go down on her, even though I had not been a lesbian. What I was was a slave eager to please her mistress. I would give and accept such pleasure as my role allowed. I did wonder if I would remain slave sexual after my indenture ended.

Erin and Denise were puzzled by my declining the use of the libido chip for my couplings with the primary crew and the wranglers. Eventually, they tried it too, and eventually joined me in asking that the libido chip boost not be used for their service to the primary crew and the wranglers. While we were slaves, we were slaves and we no longer needed to kid ourselves about how comfortable we had become in our collars. If the masters wanted it, we were happy to obey.

Although I declined the boost from the libido chip when servicing the primary crew and the wranglers, I still wanted its aid when I serviced cooperated officers and investors. The primary crew and the wranglers I recognized as, somehow, my real masters and mistresses. The cooperate officers and investors seemed masters and mistresses only in the same sense that all free persons were, though I was careful to say my mantras before any scheduled coupling with them, as they still deserved my best service by reason of their being free.

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"Master Michael, this girl begs you to start a three-minute timer," I said.

"I will notify you in three minutes," said the AI.

I petted the hair of the woman I had known as Mistress Brown, one of the executives who had covered for Master Booth. Slave 2791 was my less than willing assistant as I practiced punishment ties.

"Only three minutes," I told her. "You can bear it for three minutes."

She struggled a little as the tie became increasingly uncomfortable. Her hands were secured behind her back with linked wristbands. Her ankles had been secured together with ankle bands, to which I had added rope about her ankles and the bottom of her feet, so the tie couldn't slip up and become too tight. A rope ran from that tie to a ring on her chest harness, holding her in a tight kneeling position with her head on the floor. A classic tie that could persuade even the most stubborn of slaves to serve her master properly.