Chapter 6: Jan's Appliance
"She's really not faking," Scarlet said, staring at Peaches as the human fucktoy bounced up and down, giving the two pleading looks. "She's just so into it, and...." She trailed off.
Donna gave her a sad smile, taking the prod from her slackening hand.
"Fuck Peaches, Headmiss Miss? Fuck Peaches, please?"
"I heard you the first time, Peaches. Now sit still and be quiet until someone wants to use you."
"But Headmiss Miss, I thought YAAAIEEE!" she shrieked as Donna shocked her right above the clit.
As Peaches panted and yowled, Donna added the gag and blindfold again, finally turning on the white noise. She turned to Scarlet.
"Are you with me now?"
Scarlet nodded. Her hands were clasped nervously in front of her, and she ducked her head as she spoke. "I really am back this time, Miss Donna. Mostly."
"Are you?"
"Yes, Miss. It was just a... a momentary thing."
"Did you notice what you're calling me?"
"I'm just calling you by your name, Miss... Miss Donna," she finished, realization passing over her face. "I didn't even hear it until you pointed it out. Can we try again?"
Donna pondered, looking at the small earring in Scarlet's ear and wishing she could take it out. As much as she enjoyed dominating Scarlet, she had plenty of women under her. What she didn't have enough of were smart, independent friends and peers. "I thought you wanted to be my little piggy," she said.
Scarlet snorted cutely, dropping immediately to her knees. Donna smiled sadly. As suggestible as Scarlet was, she was a security hazard — she probably always would be. They couldn't do without a way to control her.
"You're getting better," Donna said, stroking her. "I think you'll mostly overcome the exposure."
"I don't know. There's still this gap. Something happens and I become someone different," said Scarlet. "I love it, and I... I don't like it at all."
The signal, Donna thought to herself. She must have been paged, and she'd fought it to stay with Donna and their plaything. Well, that was progress. She wasn't sure whether to be proud or concerned.
"You'll get there, eventually. I know you will."
Scarlet let out a tired sigh. "It's why most of our girls end up as such simple objects, isn't it?" Scarlet asked. "It's hard being half under someone else's control."
Donna knelt down and squeezed her, the petite girl's face pressing into her soft breasts, then helped her up. There was a flash of bright blue in the earring as someone sent Scarlet another page, and her eyelids fluttered for a moment.
"Miss Donna," she said, looking down shyly, "I think I have to be Jan's toy."
"And why is that, little piggie?"
Scarlet giggled. "'Cuz he's got 'a presentation for the ball-busting bitch,'" she said.
Her eyes grew wide. "Is that you, Miss Donna? Sorry, I didn't mean-"
Donna smiled malevolently. "It's fine, dear, I know. How well does he have you programmed, would you say, little piggie?
"Oh, pretty well. He knows I don't like it, but I can't tell anyone about any of it."
"Piglet, do you keep secrets from me?" Donna asked.
"Of course not, Mistress," Scarlet said, with a confused look. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," she said, gesturing to her side. "Yes, I'd say you're programmed perfectly. Would you wait a minute?"
"Yes, Miss. Thank you Miss," she said, quickly standing beside and slightly behind her boss.
Donna quickly messaged Mel and cc'd Bronx.
"Peaches is mounted and waiting for you."
* * *
In the popular imagination, slave training involves little beyond pounding slaves into submission in one way or another. But while a certain brutish physicality is generally involved, the process is actually a good deal more complex and nuanced than most people imagine. Modern psychology, technology, and even mathematics have revolutionized the industry, and modern slavers even have their own body of scholarship and theoretical constructs.
One of the most popular ideas is the Compliance Automation, Rebellion and Decision or CARD model (sometimes also known as DARC space). The idea is that slave temperament can be measured on a scale of zero to ten along two axes: Compliance-Rebellion, measuring obedience; and Automation-Decision, measuring how much conscious decision-making is involved in a slave's actions. A Zero-Point Slave would be a perfectly tractable drone. it would obey every rule and command perfectly and automatically. On the other hand, a 10-10 would be completely intractable, deliberately rebelling against her custodian every time.
Like any model, CARD has its drawbacks. For example, it doesn't measure competence in specific skills, and leaves out factors such as arousal and affect that are important to many owners, as well as more niche skills like cognition and communication ability which are important for some slaves. Nonetheless, it has illuminated a number of issues and contradictions in slave training.
One of the most important is the Zero-Point Problem. Most purchaser will ask for a slave that is very close to zero-point— faultlessly obedient (or only capable of token resistance) and with little independent thought. And indeed, on initial receipt, the new owner is typically thrilled with the item.
However, below a certain threshold, the closer the item is to the zero point, the more quickly the owner will grow bored with it. When a pet, fuckdoll, girl, or what have you rebels now and then in a limited way, the sense of dominance remains fresh. But if the item has no more independence than an automatic dishwasher, soon its perfect obedience provides little more erotic pleasure than any appliance executing its commands.
Accordingly, most trainers strive to maintain just enough independence in their charges to retain the client's interest without posing any danger or serious inconvenience — and indeed, many girls lack the natural faculty to approach this level of compliance.
Jan was an outlier. He understood the appeal of a slave with some independence of thought, and enjoyed the company of his assistant, Sprinkles, a great deal. However, to him a zero-point slave (or "appliance," as he called them) was still the ultimate object: "a perfect possession, perfectly possessed," as he put it.
His stint in training had been disappointing. His coworkers found him rigid, difficult to work with, and more than a little creepy, which said a lot, considering the industry. More importantly, he'd disappointed the clients, turning out slaves which lacked the little spark of defiance most owners craved.
He'd only come into his own when the company had moved him to R&D, filling out the balance of his time assisting the acquisition teams. His extreme creations made truly impressive demo pieces, showing off the capabilities of the Org. And sooner or later, a client would make a bid for them — typically as executive toys or display items, but occasionally for less exalted positions in sex club glory holes, brothels, and the like. And as is the way with most reasonably technically skilled fanatics, he believed himself to possess a genius which was supremely under-appreciated — especially by his boss.
* * *
Sprinkles giggled. "Daddy Jan? Felicity just told me the funniest thing."
"And what is that, precious?" Jan replied, without looking up from his desktop.
"I can't tell you," Sprinkles giggled.
Jan grunted. Technically, he should be a little stricter with a newly trained assistant, but he was sufficiently pleased with Sprinkles, and too busy with everything else.
"That's a good Felicity," she cooed from the other side of the room. "Your tongue is so long!"
He heard an uncharacteristic, low moan, far beneath Sprinkles' breathy, pink range. That was strange. Felicity was nearly silent most of the time.
