Enslaving The Self – Chapter Four
Sara became aware of something, niggling away at the end of her perception. She didn’t want to do anything; it was too wonderful where she was. But still the tiny irritation continued, becoming more distracting with each passing second. It was only when the vibrator suddenly fell quiet that she allowed herself to concentrate on what this nuisance was.
“Error, Error”, proclaimed the same mechanical voice over and over.
That didn’t sound good, if the net was so how malfunctioning she realised that she was effectively trapped. The bonds were too secure for her to escape without help, and it wasn’t as if she could even cry for help. Panic was starting to build when the voice suddenly changed.
“System Override: Captive Mode, Level Five – Hogtie, Ballgag (Large) and Double Vibrator, End on Remote Cancel. Confirm”.
In the short period before she was overwhelmed by the drugs, Sara felt her gag expand inside her mouth. This helped to stifle her indignant and shocked cries when a second vibrator forced itself into her, plugging her and then joining its twin as they burst into life. The net tightened, adding extra tethers as it did so. The last thing she felt, before the cool darkness overcame her was her elbows being drawn together, almost touching.
“System Override: Subliminal Level Five. Confirm”.
New images filtered into her mind. They strengthened her love of her own helplessness and they increased her own pleasure in the thought of playing and losing. Very gently, the changes that had already been made were reinforced, accentuating her kinks while allowing new programming to attach itself to those ideas, gaining her acceptance almost parasitically.
“System Override: Damsel-in-Distress Mode, Level Five – Parameters Resistance and Willpower, Threshold 0%, Forfeit Slave Mode, Level Five. Confirm”.
She couldn’t fight it now, too weakened from her previous “games” and anyway too drugged and helpless. It took the net only seconds to expunge what remained of Sara’s ability to resist and as an added insult, plunged her immediately into slavery as a consequence.
“System Override: Upload Program Slave 101. Confirm”.
New knowledge flooded into her mind and she accepted it happily. The program explained her new role and what would be expected of her. At the same time, code burned itself into her memory, shaping her responses and increasing her obedience. The process took many hours and the computer was forced to pause periodically in order not to damage its prisoner.
Eventually the work was complete. Sara lay exhausted, still gagged, bound and pleasured in her mind. The computer allowed her consciousness to drift back into stasis. She would need time to recover before practical testing could begin. Meanwhile, it had to examine the data and look for areas where the process could be improved.
Sara’s mind slowly rose from stasis. She was back in the padded chair and wearing her Slave Net. For a moment her thoughts raced, trying to understand what was wrong but the sensation quickly passed. She felt wonderful, slightly dazed and a little blank but then that somehow seemed natural. After all, she had not been given any instructions had she? So, she should just wait here until she was told what to do. A little thrill of pleasure tickled down her spine when she realised what a good girl she was being.
“Stand slave”, demanded a mechanical voice.
Obediently she sprung to her feet, unconsciously standing to attention. Again she felt the thrill of pleasure, rewarding her obedience. It felt so good to do as she was told. So nice not to have to think about anything, to let someone else take charge.
“Kneel slave”.
Sara dropped to her knees, again mimicking the position in which the net had previously placed her. Her head held high, back slightly arched with her arms behind her. She kept her legs apart, leaving herself feeling wonderfully exposed and helpless. The thought of “presenting” herself to her Master crossed her mind, and the next thrill of pleasure was so intense that she for forced to struggle in order to hold the pose.
“Good girl, your Master is pleased”, intoned the voice.
The reward for her Master’s pleasure was to be allowed to cum. Sara found that she had to bite hard on her lip to keep from screaming out. She rocked and barely managed to remain upright as the orgasm continued. The experience left her shaken and weak, but she made sure to quickly straighten herself as soon as she was able.
“Now slave, your Master has a task for you”, the voice explained when she had settled, “Some guests are visiting and you will serve them”.
Sara responded immediately, “Yes Master, this girl obeys”. Again she felt the thrill and knew that she had pleased him.
The computer continued to explore its control of the beautiful captive. She was obviously progressing well, letting her programming fill in the blanks when she was unsure of how to behave. The buried code worked to reinforce each appropriate action, conditioning her so that eventually she would no longer need prompting. By the evening, it was convinced that she was ready, one final test and she would be ready for the auction.
It was clear from the start than none of the guests knew who had invited them. The lure of free booze and the promise of other, less mundane, enjoyments had been sufficient to overcome any concerns that they might have harboured.
Sara’s role was that of a waitress and she circulated as ordered. She wore no uniform, save her Slave Net. This drew appreciative looks (and occasional leers) from the majority of male guests (as well as a smaller proportion of the “ladies”). Sara refreshed empty glasses and ferried orders to and from the bar. When spoken to directly she was allowed to engage in conversation, but generally restricted herself to “Yes/No Sir/Ma’am”.
Normally even being in such a gathering of the “great” if not so “good” would have left Sara flustered and embarrassed. The thought of being naked would have seemed like the stuff of a bad dream. But today, she just felt a constant tingle of pleasure, knowing that she was doing exactly what her Master wanted of her.
Even had she realised that some of the appraising looks, to which she was being subjected, were from potential bidders in the forthcoming sale, the desire to please her Master would have superseded her own reaction.
After an hour of serving, Sara found herself in conversation with a middle-aged man. He practically radiated an aura of wealth and privilege and seemed to have no concerns about talking to a nearly naked young woman. His manner suggested that he was used to giving orders and having them carried out. Sara found that his imperious attitude reminded her of her Master.
“So my dear”, the man was saying, “is there somewhere a little more private where we could talk about your fantastically erotic outfit?”
Sara thought back to the commands for tonight. Master had told her to “take care of the guest’s every needs” and to “serve them in all ways”. It seemed clear that the man’s suggestion was well within the specified limits.
“Certainly Sir, please follow this girl”, she said meekly, walking towards an exit.
The man followed eagerly, apparently unabashed. Then suddenly a strident female voice cut through the hubbub.
“And where the hell do you think you are going with my husband?”
Sara turned quickly and came face to chest with a statuesque brunette. She felt confused; she did not understand why this person was so angry. Slightly chastened, concerned that she had somehow done something wrong, she bowed her head in what she recognised as a more submissive posture before replying.
“This girl begs Ma’am forgiveness, may she serve you?”
The woman stared at Sara in open contempt, her lip curled and she screamed; “Serve?! Try answering the question, where are you taking my husband?!”
Sara responded quickly, not wishing to displease this guest any further; “Yes Ma’am this girl apologises. She was taking Sir somewhere more private where he could talk about my fantastically erotic outfit”.
The slap was entirely unexpected; the woman’s open hand struck Sara cleanly across the face sending her reeling. Her tray flew out of her grasp, the glasses breaking and spilling their contents over her.
“You Trollop!!” the woman shouted, stepping forward as if she was about to strike out again.
Sara cowered on the floor, terrified but unable to find a way of interpreting her instructions in a way which allowed her to defend herself. Fortunately the second blow never had a chance to land. The woman’s husband stepped in, whisking her away and gently chiding her for making a scene. The other guests, who had all turned to watch the “scene” quickly grew bored and returned to their conversations.
She slowly stood, taking care to collect all of the broken glass. Then she walked back to the bar and loaded up a new tray before beginning to circulate again. However, the encounter had shaken her and the previous sense of pleasure seemed somehow diminished. Secretly she was glad when the party ended and she was allowed to return to the laboratory.
She was unaware of the tiny mechanical voices which quietly whispered in the back of her mind.
“Warning; Short Circuit Detected”