Enslaving The Self—Chapter Five
Sara walked over to the now familiar padded chair and seated herself. For a moment she felt the comforting stillness envelop her thoughts. Having completed her instructions she would now wait, still and blank, until her Master told her what to do next. But something wasn’t right, her mind continued to race, wondering and analysing. The wonderful sense of dazed thoughtlessness seemed just out of her reach, and the harder she tried, the more distant it seemed to become.
She realised that she could hear someone talking to her. Relief flooded through her, it was her Master; surely he would know what to do. So she listened intently, so eager to be commanded.
“Warning; Short Circuit Detected, Carrier Wave Lost – Trying to Re-establish Connection, Please Wait”.
The captive girl didn’t understand, the individual words made sense, but that was all. She decided to ignore the voice and instead focus on what she should do next. It took her a moment to realise that she had not been instructed and that therefore she was taking the initiative. That idea worried her, would she displease her Master? But the more she thought, the more logical it seemed. Obviously something was wrong, why else would she be unable to rest?
She could tell her Master, have him fix the problem. But what if she had done something wrong? What if it was all her fault? Then he would be displeased and Sara knew that she didn’t want that. No, better to deal with it herself and not to involve Him unless it was beyond her. The voice seemed important somehow, and she struggled to decipher its meaning.
Short-circuit she understood, so something electronic wasn’t working properly. Carrier wave she was not so sure about, but the reference to re-establishing connection seemed to suggest that something wasn’t communicating with something else. She thought for a moment, the voice was definitely the same that she heard when the Slave Net had been activated remotely. So, her Slave Net wasn’t working properly and therefore couldn’t communicate? That seemed to make sense, didn’t it?
Sara waited to see if by relaxing she would suddenly know what to do. Up until now, every time she had felt unsure, not known what to do or how to respond, the “Slave 101” program would helpful show her. It had been so easy to just relax and learn. But no suggestion was forthcoming, and the young woman realised that she would have to rely on her own abilities. She briefly reconsidered informing her Master, but it was clear that the more she focussed on the problem, the faster her thoughts seemed to flow. Still worried about displeasing Him, she rejected the idea.
She wracked her brain, trying to break the problem down into manageable pieces. How she wished that she still had the exhaustive manual. She stopped, unsure if it could really be that simple.
“Help: Slave Net”, she tried.
At that, the voice broke off its constant warning. Instead, it began to list a series of options:
- Remote Operation
- Stealth Settings
- Change Owner
Sara was used to playing with her gadgets, but she did not want to risk damaging her Master’s expensive equipment. Only two of the options seemed helpful, and she decided to avoid rebooting until she had run out of other ideas.
“Please wait, running diagnostics”, the voice replied immediately.
She waited, fighting the urge to do try something else. Sara knew that she should be patient, but it was so hard. Her programming conflicted with her own burning desire to fix the problem. She wanted to be the best slave she could, and this damn machine was somehow stopping her.
“Tests complete”, announced the voice, “Net’s function unstable, critical failure possible. Unable to establish remote connection. Chemical reservoir depleted. Host cognitive function approaching threshold. Recommendation; Reboot and Service”.
The girl pondered this new information. It was clear that her Slave Net was not working properly. What she kept coming back to though, was the description of the host’s cognitive function approaching some sort of threshold. It seemed obvious that she was the host, the net keeping her wrapped up so wonderfully tightly. She could certainly feel her thoughts becoming clearer from moment to moment, but was this threshold a good or a bad thing?
Surely her Master wouldn’t have done anything unpleasant to her. Well, not unless she had done something to earn his disapproval. She shuddered at the thought, maybe that was it, maybe she was being punished for some terrible act. So the question was, should she follow the recommendation and reboot or should she wait and see what happened?
In the end, Sara could only really see one option. Master had instructed her to wait quietly when she had no more commands to obey. It was perhaps a disingenuous argument, but she grasped at the simplicity of not having to make a decision, and instead allowing things to just happen.
Abruptly she was shocked from her thoughts by the warm voice of her Master.
“Slave, you will prepare yourself for the auction”, the voice intoned.
“Yes Master”, came Sara’s immediate response. Relief and joy flooded through her, as she suddenly had a purpose again. Now she could happily do what she was told, without having to worry about consequences.
Although she was not clear at first exactly how one should dress for an auction, Sara was relieved to find that her programming obligingly filled in the blanks. The captive woman registered a slight jolt of surprise when she realised that her “outfit” would largely consist of a few scraps of silk, some chains and of course her Slave Net. Somewhat sluggishly the net responded, clamping down on her emotions while at the same time rewarding any “appropriate” thoughts or feelings.
She sighed happily, feeling the warm blanket of calm descending over her. This was much better she realised. Master was here now, and she had her instructions. She allowed herself to be soothed, letting all thoughts of the malfunctioning net fade. Sara began to “dress” as her programming directed. Revelling in the fact that she was pleasing her Master.
Of course, she would have preferred some time to choose exactly what to wear, Sara decided as she bent to pick up an intricate collection of chains and cuffs. She paused; staggered that she could even think such a thing. It was not her place to decide something as important as that, was it? She shook her head in confusion, wondering what was wrong with her, as she began to fasten the metal shackles around each wrist.
The young woman shuddered slightly, as she felt the cool metal closing around her body. Each cuff closed with a sharp “click” and somewhat belatedly she realised that there was no obvious way to open them again. She felt a frisson of fear mixed with excitement. How on earth was she supposed to get herself out of these? Again she was shocked by her own temerity.
The net had continued to monitor her condition. It was clear that she was beginning to reassert her own personality but the tiny intelligence could not seem to counter it. It kept trying to release more drugs into her system, but the reservoir remained stubbornly empty. Worst still, every time it tried to reconnect to the local network, the process failed. It had not been created with this kind of situation in mind, and its limited adaptability was not enough to find a solution.
Sara found herself holding the final shackle, a plain silver collar. Her wrists and ankles were held now, each cuff trailing a length of thin chain. The pieces connected to one another, leaving her enough freedom to move, but still making it very obvious that she was restrained. All in all, the experience was incredible arousing, but despite this, she still paused.
There was something different about a collar she knew, and despite the net’s almost constant stream of positive affirmations, this worried her. Slavegirls wore collars she knew, after all, wasn’t she just a meek, obedient, submissive slave? But then, why would the thought of placing this piece of metal around her neck make her feel so anxious? Her arms began to tremble slightly, the only outward sign of the internal conflict.
She knew that she was a good girl, and that good girl’s did what they were told. Her Master told her what to do, what to think, how to act. That was the way it was supposed to be. She was a slave, and she loved that fact, didn’t she? But if that was true, why was she unsure about putting the simple metal band around her neck? It couldn’t make her into more of a slave could it? The thought sent tiny shivers of excitement down her spine. They rolled over her buttocks and tingled deliciously between her thighs, making her gasp and moan.
Slowly but inexorable, her hands began to rise, lifting the collar to her slender throat. The chains tinkled softly, drawing her attention. Perhaps this was what she needed, to make her a better slave for her Master. Maybe if she were properly collared, she wouldn’t feel these doubts, wouldn’t find herself dwelling on intrusive thoughts. The idea crossed her mind that perhaps it wasn’t the Slave Net that was damaged; maybe there really was something wrong with her?
With a “click” that seemed almost deafeningly loud amidst the silence of the laboratory, she closed the metal band around her neck. She came with a suddenness that shocked her. The orgasms drove her down onto her knees, almost making her climax again as the net tried to use every possible resource to consolidate its control over her. But, as the aftershocks subsided, Sara found that the blissful state of thoughtless arousal that she so craved was still tantalisingly out of her reach. She wanted to just kneel here, waiting for her Master’s next order, but her mind refused to still.