The Cost of My Dreams Ch. 04 - Identity

[jeepster]

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.

I had intended to cover the whole five months between their training at the Sharks and the departure to mars in this chapter, but it simple wasn't possible, so they'll be another chapter before the journey finally gets going.

I'm also going to have to split this post into two posts, which I'll post as one after the other in the same thread.

"The Cost of My Dreams"
Chapter 04 - Identity
By LoyalHound
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I knelt on a slave pad in the warehouse, waiting to have my collar changed. Erin and Denise were lined up with me and each of us was shackled by our left ankle to eye bolts next to the pads. Master Peterson and Mistress Springfield, who represented the Martian Exploration and Colony Company, had our new collars, which seemed quite high end, but we were not told what features they supported, nor why we weren't being fitted with transit tags. The ideal curiosity of slaves was not being indulged by our masters.

They did me first. Master Crenshaw ordered "Collar," and I lifted my hair out of the way with my left hand and kept my right hand on my thigh. He unlocked my collar and removed it and, just for a second, I felt free. Then Master Peterson placed the new collar around my neck and snapped it closed, locking it in place. He calibrated the collar and then signed off on some paperwork for me. Then they did Erin and Denise.

Erin, Denise, and I would be doing the first leg of our trip in a transport van. Angela had been held back a week, and Cheryl and Susan were being sent south via the regional transportation market formally known as The East Coast Slave Transport Market LLC or more informally as the East Coast Local.

Since the Sharks was an end node of the East Coast Local, they would prepare Cheryl and Susan for shipment. Each woman would be fed and watered and made to brush her teeth. Both would be given a large enema. Their collars might be replaced by transport collars, though they could also ship locked in the collars of the Sharks or even of the Martian Exploration and Colony Company. Each woman would have her source node ID and destination node ID and the last four digits of her SIN written on her left breast in three colors of removable ink. A transport order specifying shippers, waypoints and treatment at those way points, would be finalized in the system. Transport tags would be prepared for both each woman with her SIN, her owner's name, her package ID, and her routing information and the tag would be attached to her left ear. After that, the Sharks would take both women to City of Frederick Slave Market and likely the Frederick Market would transport both women to the Baltimore Slave Market themselves. They'd then be held at the Baltimore Market, fed and watered as necessary, and loaded on whatever transport carrier the East Coast Local had approved for the next leg of their journey south. If a shipper failed to appear or canceled a shipment, the East Local would use a shipper of comparable rating and adjust the schedule to move the slaves on thru in good health. A slave might go thru several carriers and would have bio breaks and kibble and water at stops along the way as required by the rules of the East Coast Local. An enema might be scheduled at one her intermediate way points if the trip took long enough. They would deliver both women to the Jacksonville Slave Market, which would arrange the last leg of their journey to the to the receiving docks of the Martian Exploration and Colony Company complex in Cape Canaveral.

A certain distain for the comfort of the slave in transit and a complete distain for their dignity is, of course, not just traditional but considered necessary and desirable. It helps keep slaves in their place. The safety of the slave in transport, on the other hand, has become increasingly important as slavery has become more ubiquitous and both Cheryl and Susan would be heavily insured. There would be hell to pay if either woman arrived injured or didn't arrive at all, but there was pretty much no chance of that.

Was it really necessary and desirable that I be kept in my place? While I was a slave, I understood I was a slave and accepted that I would be treated as a slave, which I expected and felt competent to deal with. Being treated as a slave and kept in my place affirmed my understanding of the world and my place in it and yes, it also often gave me a sexual thrill. Treating me any other way would have felt like gaslighting. I did not, Beyond the Thirty-Fourth Amendment: The Origins and Doctrine of Modern American Slavery notwithstanding, believe I deserved nothing better; I believed I deserved to eventually rejoin the human race as a free woman but, while I was a slave, it felt normal for me to be treated as a slave. It made me feel safe, like those big cats at the zoo who supposedly think that their cages protect them from the humans, not the other way round. It was being an engineer and an astronaut and having to explain to my masters, as an engineer and astronaut, why they were wrong that made me feel exposed and at risk. Yet being an engineer and an astronaut wasn't just why I had agreed to my indenture, they were two of the things my owners needed me to be. I would serve my masters, in part, by opposing them, which is an uncomfortable situation for a slave to be in. I tried to think of myself as a trained service animal that will, if they judge an action they are being directed to take dangerous, practice "intelligent disobedience" and refuse that action.

Master Peterson was a thirtyish man but Mistress Springfield was young, about twenty. There had been college age people in the club but those were guests I'd known how to serve. She was slim and athletic and with short blond hair like I had. Now I was going to get bossed by a wrangler who could be my younger sister.

"She's a mistress," I thought. "You're a slave. She gives the orders. You obey the orders. She's a human; you are an animal. Give her attitude and you'll deserve the punishment you will receive, no matter how she treats you. Just hope she doesn't have too big a chip on her shoulder."

Mistress Springfield held herself well and I started to relax a little. She was, it seemed, an experienced wrangler in spite of her young age. She projected confidence and self-control.

Master Crenshaw secured a leash to my collar and used the shocker to release the shackle on my left ankle. He led me thru the side door of the van, which had a row of two kennels stacked two high for a total of four secured at the back of the van. They were rather small, being only about four foot long, three foot wide and three foot high. I was directed into kennel in the bottom row at the left side of the vehicle. I crawled into the kennel, pulled the leash in after me, and heard the gate close and the click of lock being set behind me. The kennel contained a clean slave pad that nevertheless had a slight smell of urine and there was no slave litter. With any luck, we weren't in there for the long haul, but if not to Cape Canaveral, where were we bound?

Master Crenshaw loaded Erin beside me, and Denise on top of Erin and then said "You're all fine slaves but you're still new to the collar. What is your duty?"

"To serve the pleasure and convenient of our master," we all said together.

"Make me proud of you," he said, and left the van.

We understood, without being told, that we were not to speak unless spoken to. After perhaps fifteen minutes, we were joined by two handlers not associated with the Sharks. Master Miller closed the side door of the van and got into the passenger seat. Master Lee got in the driver's seat and, coordinating with two other vehicles that were accompanying us, started our trip. Master Miller and Master Lee occasionally communicated with the other vehicles, but they mostly talked shop, and stories about various slaves and slave handlers. While they never talked to us directly, it became clear that they were taking us to a rented business jet.

We arrived at our destination after about an hour and a half. Once we were parked, Master Miller and Master Lee got out. A minute later, Master Miller opened the side door of the van, got in back with us, and opened my kennel.

"Leash," he commanded and I passed him the end of my leash. Then he gestured and I crawled out and stood up. He led me to the side door, passed my leash to Master Lee, and went back for the next slave.

I looked around and thought I recognized the area. We were at Temperance International Airport near Baltimore, though along the periphery rather than at the huge passenger terminals in the center of the airport. It hadn't occurred to me that there had to be a private terminal at Temperance but it made sense. Where else would you land a business jet the size of an airliner?

Master Miller brought Erin out and secured her leash to the back of my collar and went in for Denise. Eventually, Master Lee held my leash, Erin was leashed to me, and Denise to Erin. The two handlers led us thru automatic doors into a building marked Temperance Specialty Access.

The lobby was large and well-appointed and we were led slave naked, while other people in the building stared at us, to a baggage check in and inspection station. Master Lee passed my leash and a clipboard with our paperwork to a baggage agent and he and Master Miller left us. There were no visual barriers at the baggage check in and inspection station and people throughout the lobby could see us clearly. Well, it wasn't like I could get any more naked than I already was. The baggage inspection agent led me to a table where he secured my leash, took a comb and searched my hair. He put on fresh gloves and then he fondled my breasts. That damned horny juice was having its way with me and I started to become aroused. He had me open my mouth and inspected the inside with a flashlight. Finding nothing out of order, had me bend over the table and lift each foot in turn so he could inspect the underside. He put one hand on top of my waist and slowly inserted a finger on his other hand in my pussy.

At first, I focused and was going to try to hold myself still, horny juice notwithstanding, but that was just wrong. The man didn't want me to hold still like a hunk of meat; he wanted me to react. I moaned and thrust back against his finger like a proper slave. He pushed down harder with the hand on my waist and finished his check of my pussy. Then he inserted that same finger up my anus and pushed down on me hard as I thrust back again, panting slightly. Finding nothing, he removed his gloves, unhooked Erin's leash from my collar and another agent unhooked my leash from the table and led me to a holding cell where I was secured. There were piss grates at the back of the cell and some slave pads in a row between the grates and the bars at the front of the cell. Having no other orders, I knelt on one of the pads with my knees spread, my hands with my fingers laced behind my neck, and my head held up straight with much of my leash piled between my thighs and waited for the others.

Two college age men wandered over and started to speculate about my slave grade and what I'd be like in the sack and suggested I demonstrate my oral skills thru the bars. A baggage agent interrupted them when he brought over Erin and caged her with me. He pointed out a sign on the cell forbidding sex in the terminal.

"I'm sorry but this is a public area. You want that, go there" he said, pointing to an establishment that opened into the terminal. "They'll treat you right. Good food and high-class slaves in there with private alcoves."

One of the two nodded and said "OK, but I am curious about these two. What's their story?"

"Property of the Martian Exploration and Colonization Company. Astronaut slaves, they were all over the news. Somebody thinks a lot of them and staff has been warned to keep our dicks holstered with this lot. No private inspections in the back room if you know what I mean."

"You see that mark on their asses?" he continued "That's the mark of the Sharks. Slaves from the Sharks can be men or women, pretty or ugly, high grade or low, but they all have one thing in common: They're smart."

"Slaves with intelligence." The young man shook his head. "There's something wrong with that whole concept."

The baggage agent smiled. "Nothing better than a smart girl who has to lick your feet and thank you for being permitted to blow you. It's extra special humiliating for them and some of them love it. Whenever we get a load from the Sharks, we know they're smart enough to truly appreciate how far they've fallen. A little insider trading or a lie during an investigation, and suddenly the go to company officer is in the collar. A couple months ago, we processed a high state government executive. Top of the world one day; he was a needle dicked little bully who thought he could get away with anything. Next thing he knows, he's in the collar but still working for the government. He may never be free again and his agency has lotteries to see who gets to fuck him every night. One bad decision and the collar waits for all of us."

Erin smiled and knelt down next to me. When the men had gone, she said "I see someone's a proper slave, shoving back against probing fingers. The baggage agent told me if I did the same, he'd give me a smack."

"You did it anyway, didn't you?"

"Of course, he didn't tell me not to do it. He only told me I'd get a smack for it," she said, rubbing her buttocks. "He wasn't mad about it or anything. I'm guessing that it's just terribly routine for him."

"Yet you had to do it. It was expected of you."

"I'm too am a proper slave. I have to be, if I want the fourth crew slot. You were right. At the Sharks, we were broke the best."

"It's only been a month, but it all seems so normal," I said. "I've just been led slave naked on a leash thru the terminal and my first thought was 'I've never been to this part of the airport before; it's pretty nice.' If those two young men had been able to have their way with me, it'd have been another day ending in y."

She shrugged "Weren't you the one who kept insisting we were in the Temple of Persephone? While we are slaves, we are slaves. Besides, those two would be a step up from the commonplace slaves."

Just then we heard Denise make a yipping sound.

A couple of minutes later, a baggage agent led Denise over and locked her in with us. Her buttocks sported a welt.

Denise said "Well, after you two I had to up the ante. I didn't wait for him to stick his finger in. When I bent over the table, I backed into him and rubbed my ass on his crotch."

"Outstanding," I said, smiling. "Naughty but not disobedient. We are, all of us, proper slaves. Master Crenshaw would be proud."

"Think we'll make the tabloids again?" asked Erin.

"For this?" asked Denise. "It's not enough for a story unless big foot is joining us on our flight."

"Maybe aliens," I suggested. "You know, probing us good and proper, just for our own good, of course."

"I could use a good solid probing just now. Do you think Mistress Esmerelda's rules are still in effect?" asked Erin.

Our collars beeped and we were all gifted with an attention shock. The voice of the then AI from the Aries 3 interplanetary transport vehicle, who we knew as Michael, spoke out of our collars. "You will address me as Master Michael said the AI. "I have reviewed Esmerelda's rules and her records of your behavior at the Sharks. The no masturbation rule will continue to be enforced for the duration of your indentures nor will you have sex with each other except as ordered by your masters or during free play."

"Master Michael," Erin asked "this girl wonders if you are running on the Michael 2 prototype hardware in Florida. May this girl inquire about the location of your hardware, master?

"You have guessed correctly. Until you are moved off planet, I will run on the Michael 2 hardware. At that point I will be reintegrated with Michael aboard the Aries 3 interplanetary transit vehicle."

"Thank you, master," said Erin.

"It's going to be a business jet," said Denise. "Various executives and former colleges may want to test our new skills."

"A girl can only hope," said Erin.

Indeed, this girl did hope for a good, solid, probing but that was no longer my decision.

In a bit, Master Peterson and Mistress Springfield came over with a basket of wrist and ankle bands and locks to go with them. When they opened the cage door and passed them inside, we put them on and locked them in place without being ordered to do so. When ordered to coffle ourselves, Erin clipped her leash to my collar and Denise clipped her leash to Erin's collar. We were well accustomed to our position as slaves, too well accustomed. Sometimes it seemed like we were enslaving ourselves for our own reasons and the masters were just there as a public service; because slaves need owners.

Master Peterson took my leash and led us out of the terminal and up mobile stairs to be door of a business jet as big as an airliner. With any luck, we were about to become the inflight entertainment for a bunch of company bigwigs.
________________________________________

Denise, Erin, and I were locked in our slave aviation transport seats, which have fewer straps than the car version and were set up to automatically release our hands, so we could release the rest of us, in the event of a passenger alarm or if power failed.

When we'd boarded, Denise, Erin and I were led to adjacent seats. We adjusted the seat and strap heights of each seat to our needs, clipped our ankles in place, adjusted and buckled the two belts that ran over shoulders and to our crotch, buckled the lap belt and then, after making sure all else was well, slipped the rings of our wrist bands onto the remote release rings built into the seat and pushed the button to lock the rings. We were well secured, like the valuable slaves we were. As slave meat alone we were beyond most peoples' means. As top-rated slave astronauts, we were almost beyond price.

After we reached cruising attitude, Master Peterson and Mistress Springfield unlocked us and we freed ourselves. They also removed our leashes and we heeled them into a conference room where Master Marshall was meeting with several people who I took to be investors in his companies. I recognized one of them from the private club at the Sharks.

One of the men said "I've seen the layout for the Ares III toys and playhouses and mockups for the action figures. When do we get to see the Manga?"

"We need to have a final choice before we do the final plot revisions and figure choices for the first three volumes. We also have to have that contest to pick slave names for them. I will show you some sample art, minus some key figures, in a few minutes. We can finish the first volume when we've made our final choice and the second volume once they're on their way."

Master Marshall passed out several decks of cards and said "We are issuing trading cards with the manga drawings of each potential crew member and biographical information on the back, as well as cards for the various hardware, such as the lander, the gerbil cage, and the maintenance vehicle. We're also looking at an Ares 3 branded dog whip. 'The only whip approved by the crew of the Ares 3' we'll call it."

"When are we going to see a final name for the thing? asked another man."

"Traditionally, that's something the crew selects. For the lander, 'Eagle' may be the top choice for obvious reasons. I've suggested 'Beachhead' as being suitably bellicose for a lander on the red planet. Marketing is making some suggestions too but the final choice for both transport and lander, unless they really screw it up, will be with the crew. We'll have a final name before they move the Ares 3 from Earth orbit to the lunar gateway station."

One of the men was looking thru his deck of trading cards and held one up, looking at me. "Is the biographical information accurate? Was this one really hot for the collar?"

"Read carefully, it doesn't actually say she was hot for the collar. It only says she tried horny juice at uni, willingly indentured herself, and eagerly sought out the attentions of the commonplace slaves, her trainers, and her slave sisters."

"I'd like to try her out."

"This is only a two-hour flight. You've got an open invitation to schedule a session with any of these slaves at Cape Canaveral. That applies to all of you, of course. Have your people contact my people and these slaves will be happy to serve you."

"Six Seven One Nine," Master Marshall said "climb up on this table and assume fours facing me."

I did as ordered, going on my hands and knees facing Master Marshall and then dropped to my knees and elbows.

"Over," he ordered, and I flipped over onto my back, put the soles of my feet on the table and my hands behind my back and lifted my body, arching my back. I held the position for half a minute before he ordered "Missionary." I dropped back to the table, kept my legs spread but extended them, and placed my hands crossed above my head, as if for binding.

"As you can see," he said "these are real slaves, as eager to serve your pleasure as any pleasure slave. But they are also trained astronauts, and will continue working on the program until the final selection is made."

One of the men said "It seems a damn shame to free the losers after only six months service. You should have specified two years for all of them."

"They wouldn't have agreed to two years for the losers; it wouldn't be a fair offer. Besides, their talents are rare. We need their brains far more that we need their embonded bodies and it may be that some of them will reup for the Ares four mission in a few years."

"You two," Master Marshall ordered Erin and Denise. "Serve these guests of mine coffee and donuts."

Erin and Denise went around the table. They would fetch a cup, kneel near the person they were serving, pour coffee in the cup from a carafe and offer it up to the person they served. Then they would fetch a tray of donuts and offer it up to the person they served, return the tray of donuts to a side table and move on to the next guest. One of the guests stood up, reached over, and fondled me. I smiled at him and thrust my hips up from the table. Master Marshall had Master Peterson secure me spread eagled, got out a vibrator and demonstrated my sexual response, making me come several times.

The meeting continued, discussing details of the various mission related marketing, until it was time for us to return to our slave transport seats and bind ourselves for landing.
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The third day we were back at the company, Susan and Cheryl joined us after lunch, just before Master Peterson started to show the free members of the crews how to put us thru our paces and demonstrated the proper use of his whip on a dummy and quite a dummy it was. It came with resettable buttocks that would actually show reddening and welts when stuck hard enough until reset.

"Control is the key," he said. "It will sting with even mild force if you hit your slave properly. Control your whip, control yourself and control your slaves. You're must correct misconduct or bad attitude promptly, but never let your anger direct your blows. Most trained slaves obey, not because they fear punishment, but because they accept their status as long as you enforce their submission. They are counting on you to keep them in their place. With these slaves, of course, it's more complicated because they must also serve you with their minds, but it's exactly because you need their minds that you make it clear to them that they are your property and must use their minds for your pleasure and convenience, not just their own.

Comander Black, take your whip and show me how to administer a quick, mild correction on the dummy. Remember proper form and control."

One at a time, they demonstrated their use of the whip, and then put us thru our paces with firm verbal commands and increasingly confident gestures. After our time at the Sharks, none of us should have required correction during the drills, but during the second hour I got distracted and earned a mild, well-placed stroke from Mistress Gonzales, which hurt a lot and for which I thanked her.

When Master Gardner was in charge, Cheryl had a similar screwup and Master Gardner was too hesitant in his blow. Master Peterson patiently drilled him in using his whip on the dummy, then had Master Gardner order Cheryl into position for a more formal punishment and Master Gardner stuck his blow with perfect form and control. Cheryl yelped but thanked Master Gardner and held position until released.

Now, Mistress Gonzales from the primary crew, Master Washington from the backup crew, and Mistress Whitacre from the second backup crew, while they were allowed to remain clothed, had to experience both sides of the training. While they would never be indentured as long as the fourth crew member (the slave crew member) remained healthy, their indentures would be activated if the fourth crew member died or became incapacitated. Since this was unlikely, their slave training had consisted of a five-day course of the sort normally sought by those hoping to improve their slave rating. A course for tourists, Master Peterson called it. One of those three was in for a very rude awaking if something happened to the fourth crew member. With their poorer training, they received multiple corrections via the shock collars they wore for this session.

Three hours we drilled, and then they granted Erin, Denise, Susan, Cheryl, and I sexual release, assigning us to pleasure the male crew members and Mistress Gonzales and Mistress Whitacre. Master Washington satisfied himself with one of the male slaves competing for the first backup crew. Mistress Henderson and Mistress Bowman, both from the first backup crew, declined to participate.

After that, we were sent for slave hygiene and showers, and then taken to our kennel area for an unstructured study period.

I was skimming an electronic edition of Beyond the Thirty-Fourth Amendment: The Origins and Doctrine of Modern American Slavery, attaching rude electronic notes to various passages and having unkind thoughts about the authors for a half hour or so when Cheryl kissed the back of my neck.

"Cheryl," I said "I'd love to but we're in unstructured study, not free play. We're not allowed to do that now and I'm sure Master Michael is every bit as attentive as Mistress Esmeralda."

"Are you sure?"

"Master Michael was real clear on the matter. I'm as frustrated as you are but our masters had decreed that we have to wait until free play," I said.

"What do you think they're going to do with me and Susan? The tabloids were right; we're also rans."

Whatever her other flaws, Cheryl could see the facts in front of her. I tapped my head with the pointing finger on my right hand. "You've got value up here way beyond your value as slave meat. They're not going to waste that. Worst case, they'll start having you entertain important investors and corporate officers and brief them about what's going on. You are in the thick of it. You're smart, you're pretty, and you have the best slave skills of all of us."

She gave me a wan smile and said "What did you do as an astronaut mommy? Well son, I fucked investors and blew corporate officers."

"Daughter," I said "I took it up the ass from ugly old men and spanked some important people who I am afraid to name."

Cheryl shook her head and said "Not the same; you're still in the running and I think you'll make it all the way to Mars."

"I think Erin is the one they wanted from the beginning. She's smarter than I am. Denise plays the political game better. I'm a long way from any sort of a finish line."

"At least you're still in the race."

"I'm sorry, Cheryl. I didn't create this contest and I'm not the one picking the winners. I'll be happy to lick you silly when we're in free play."

And so I did. At least, I tried to give as good as I got, but Cheryl really did have the best slave skills of all of us. Still, she seemed satisfied.
________________________________________

Angela joined us during free play on the thirteenth day after we first arrived.

"I've missed you all so much," she said. "I hope you haven't gotten too far ahead of me but I will work to be worthy of your company."

"We're starting simulation next week. It's been mainly the crew learning to wrangle us and routine updates. You'll catch up in no time," said Denise, uneasily.

"Oh, I hope so," said Angela. "I don't want to hold anyone back."

"What did they do to you those final ten days"

"A lot of horny juice and a lot of the practical. They even taught me the ski pole trick, doing five guys at once."

"Do guys actually like to do that?" Erin asked. "I thought even double penetration is more of a party trick. Guys get creeped out when they have to be that close together when having sex with a woman."

"Don't be jealous 'cause I've mastered it, Erin. People love to watch it."

"Have you been keeping up with the changes in the S7M?" I asked, referring to the Scorpio 7 mod 2 maintenance vehicle.

"Oh yes. Do we have a simulator for the revised vehicle yet?"

"Erin and I have been working with Master Bradley on that. Master Bradley say it should be ready next week."

"Working *with* Master Bradley? Is that a proper attitude for a slave?"

WTF. "Ah, no, this girl supposes it is not. Seeing as we're slaves, it would be better to say we worked at his direction." Especially, I thought, since our licenses are suspended because we're slaves. Nobody actually has to know how much of the work was ours. This would be, I reflected, a violation of the NSPE Code of Ethics II.5, (deceptive acts) but not only was I not currently an engineer, I was wasn't even human. I was livestock and was free on any professional obligations. I could hardly be expected to go against the will of my masters. "We do his bidding like the good slaves we are."

She smiled and said "I'm looking forward to seeing if they fixed the guidance system issue."

"That's a physical issue not a simulation issue. They've replaced the original system with the one from the mod 1, which was is still a little clunky but works fine. That was in last week's update."

"Oh," she said. "I've been so distracted since you've left me. I must have missed that."

"Well, you're back with us now," said Denise. "We'll help you catch up. Leave no astronaut behind."
________________________________________

It was 10:50 and I had been called for the personal service of Master Peterson at his quarters. Per instructions, I put on wrist and ankle bands and walked to his rooms on the third floor of the guest building. He gestured me to the foot of his bed where he had some things laid out for me: A leash, a ring gag, a slave belt so my hands could be secured by my sides, and a spreader bar.

Without exchanging a word, I attached the leash to my collar and to an eye bolt in the floor. He never gave me orders to restrain myself. Just another game he played, as though putting myself in restraints was my idea and was for my benefit. I put on the gag and I clipped my ankle bands onto the spreader bar. Finally, I did the belt, which he helped me with as it buckled behind my back. He clipped my wrist bands to the belt, had me lay back on the bed. None of this stuff locked, yet I was helpless to free myself nor was I able to complain much, not that I wanted to.

Master Peterson joined me on the bed and positioned me to his liking and started to kiss and caress me. With the horny juice flowing thru me, I heated rapidly and came for the first time right after he mounted me. Gagged as I was, I didn't have to thank him for the gift of his seed after he came in me. Afterwards, he held me for a while, and I enjoyed his embrace.

This man was a slave wrangler and there was no one he was stricter with than me when he directed the slave yoga sessions. My timing and form had to be perfect; my mantras loud, clear, and completely accurate. He tolerated nothing less than my best and somehow, I found that I liked him. I liked him a lot and even occasionally dreamt of him.

While we lay there, he removed my gag and talked with me. Today he brought up my reading habits.

"While I appreciated your comments on Beyond the Thirty-Fourth Amendment, you really need to stop with the garbage tear slave psychobabble. Thirty Days to a Better Slave? What were you thinking? OK, Five Years a Pleasure Slave has its points, but you're not a tourist and this isn't some fantasy. The Eight State Standards is about the only sensible choice you've made recently. If you're really interested in slavery as an institution, you should stick to the professional works. Kahn's Handbook would be a good start."

"Thank you, master, but Kahn's Handbook isn't in the free library."

"I'll send you a copy."

"Master is too kind to this lowly slave."

"I'll also test you on your reading."

"This slave expects nothing less from you, master."

"So, you have expectations for your master? Is that proper slave behavior?"

"Forgive me master, but this slave has come to expect strict and competent discipline from you. She is pleased that master cares enough to ensure she becomes the best slave that she can be."

"I guess I shouldn't beat you for that kind of expectation but I will test you on Kahn's handbook and send you links to some other publications that you will also be tested on. I'll send a note to Michael so you don't get overloaded on study."

"Thank you master. This slave endeavors to understand the institution of which she is now part, master."

"Any questions on the Eight State Standards?"

"No master. This slave was an engineer and is used to reading standards, master. Kahn's Handbook should be more of a challenge, master."

And so my reading came to include not just the Eight State Standards (more formally, Standards for Slave Marking, Restraint and Training for the US States of Arizona, California, Georgia, Louisiana, Nevada, New Mexico, North Carolina, Oklahoma, and Washington and the Mexican States of Chihuahua and Sonora - which, yes, is eleven states) but also the tenth edition of Handbook of Slavekeeping aka Khan's Handbook, though Khan was now only listed as a coauthor and several previous coauthors had been replaced by two newer master slave wranglers; relevant parts of The Code of Federal Regulations, specs of various slave hardware, study guilds for apprentice slave wranglers, a test preparation guild for Florida's Journeymen Wrangler exam and several forums where wranglers disused practical applications of their craft. It was like watching a train wreck; I was appalled but I couldn't stop reading because it was all about controlling me, about how I should be treated and Master Peterson tested me on all of it. He knew his craft and I often left his exams better informed but well punished if I hadn't put in the work he thought was required. I was never punished for a wrong answer, but he would not tolerate slacking in his student.

________________________________________

I was working thru Alfred's Traditional Slave Ropework and Angela was assisting me, acting as my subject. Right now, her hands were tied behind her by a leather thong in a capture knot that I had gotten in place in less than ten seconds. Not a good tie for long term confinement, but I had spent another thirty seconds adding an additional tie and cinching, so it would hold her long term, just not as comfortably as I'd like. I was working on her ankles but after three tries it was still taking way too long to get her properly restrained and she wasn't even properly struggling. Modern slavekeepers mostly used dedicated slave restraints which are more secure, safer and more comfortable for the slave than traditional ropework, but some kept alive the tradition of rope and thong restraints and it was a skill Master Peterson had ordered me to master.

"I'm sorry, Angela. It's still taking me way too long to do this tie."

"That's OK, I like being tied by you. It makes me feel safe when you restrain me. I'm so glad Master Peterson is having you master traditional ropework."

"Why is he doing that?" asked Denise, who was making sure I took good care of her friend.

"Because when I started taking an interest in slavery as an institution, he disapproved of some of my reading choices and got me professional material. I've been going down the slavekeeping rabbit hole ever since."

"Maybe the masters could have you tie up slaves for them. You could be a slave mistress," said Angela.

"Do you imagine I could compete with Slave Mistress Ann or Slave Mistress Phillis?"

"In time you could. Master Peterson likes you. That's why he's so strict with you."

"Yea, and it's as fucked up a dynamic as One Nine Seven Five and her husband," I said, referring to the Japanese women we'd be grouped with at the Sharks. "Anyway, it's hardly likely. If I'm selected for the mission, I'll be the only slave on board. If not, my indenture ends and I get to figure out if I'll ever be able to work with anyone at this company as an equal again."

"Your indenture doesn't have to end, you know," said Angela. "Lots of slaves sign up for another go round."

"Yea, that's not happening," I said. "Maybe a FINO with a future husband, but I don't want to be a slave any longer than I have to be. Maybe I should change sides and become a wrangler."

"Don't you like being a slave?" asked Angela.

Well, that was a weird fucking turn. "Ah, I'm OK with it actually. Surprisingly OK with it, but I don't want to be one forever."

"But you should be. You're a trained slave. Don't you love pleasing your master?"

Denise and I looked at each other. I asked, "Angela, are you planning to reindent?"

"Oh yes. I've found my calling. I've never felt so happy as when I'm pleasing my masters."

Oh, shit. What had they done to her those last weeks at the Sharks? She had been showing signs of slave mind since she'd rejoined the group, but this way, way worse.

I tied her crossed ankles together, completing the tie and cinching it in just under a minute and said "Angela, thank you for helping me. You are a joy to work with, but I think we're done for now. Let me untie you."

"Please leave me tied for a bit. Set a timer and untie me later."

"I'll watch her," said Denise "and untie her in a half hour."

"Thank you," I said, and moved to my work terminal.

I was appalled by my exchange with Angela, but uncertain what, if anything, I could do about it. I had to contact someone who could help but the only people who could help probably already knew about it. I was a slave, an animal, but even a dog will alert and oppose his master if the master is about to do something stupid and I could argue that Angela was in danger of losing most of her value to the company. I sent an email to Master Peterson that read:

*****

Subj: Request meeting re concern about mental health of sister slave and crew member

Master Peterson:

Please excuse 6719 for being a master of the blindingly obvious, but this slave believes she is required to report this to her masters and being a master of the obvious seems to be part of this girl's role. 6719 begs you to meet with this slave privately to discuss her concern for 2493.

*****



I got a response about a half hour later that read:

"Meet with me at 1600 in my office. Equip yourself with wrist and ankle bands and bring a tawse."

Well, I was in for it now but I'd still rather take a hiding than have kept silent. I would one day be free again, and I would have to look at myself in the mirror.

It was 13:30 with two and half long hours before I got what was coming to me but I still had documents and computations to review. I said "Master Michael, Master Peterson has directed Six Seven One Nine to meet with him at his office at 1600. Six Seven

One Nine begs master to notify this slave at 15:40 so that this slave can properly prepare for this meeting as he has commanded."

"I have amended your scheduled and will notify you at 15:40 so you can equip yourself as he directed for your 16:00 meeting," said Master Michael.

"This slave thanks you, master," I said.

Learning to study while under the influence of horny juice had its benefits. In spite of my impending correction, I managed to focus and study the documents and review some of the computations. Erin interrupted me at one point.

"Have you talked to Angela?" she asked.

"Yea, and I reported my concern to Master Peterson. I am to meet with him at 1600."

"Should I come too?"

"I'd recommend against it. I'm to equip myself with wrist and ankle bands and bring a tawse."

She looked at me, shock her head and sighed. "Slavery sucks."

"Only if you're doing it right."

She snorted. "That doesn't even make sense. How can you make jokes at a time like this?"

"What better time? Besides, if you don't try to make your indenture fun, who will?"

"Get me when you're ready to go and I'll help you with the wrist and ankle bands."

"Thanks."

I got back to work. I was actually surprised when Master Michael interrupted me and said "It is 15:40. Prepare for you meeting with Master Peterson. He has directed you equip yourself with wrist and ankle bands and bring a tawse."

"Thank you, Master Michael". I stood, called to Erin and went over to the shelves of implement of correction and bondage. Erin was helping me put on my wrist bands when Denise joined us.

"I am to join you for your meeting with Master Peterson," she said. "Like you, I am to be equipped with wrist and ankle bands and bring a tawse."

"Give me a minute and I'll help you with your bands too," said Erin.

"Thankyou. You're not joining us?"

Erin stood there a second and then said "Why not. It's not like it's my first trip over a master's lap. Maybe it will help."

"And maybe it will make things worse," I said. "Erin, just because I'm an idiot doesn't mean you have to be one too."

"But darling, were both airheads. The tabloids say so and they would never just make stuff up."

She was a big girl and, even as a slave, she could make big girl decisions. The Sharks had given us that; we could still make big girl decisions.

"Four out of five bigfoot agree," I said.

Angela wondered over and asked "Why are you putting on bands? Were you called for use? Can I join you?"

"No Angela," said Denise. "We were bad and we're reporting for punishment, not use. You don't want to join us."

"Oh," said Angela. "With the masters' help, I'm sure you'll learn to be good."

I interrupted before Denise could break down in tears. "Yes Angela, the masters will help us learn to be good but Erin and I are slow learners, so it may take us some time."

Once we were suitably equipped, we made our way to Master Peterson's office and knelt outside the door. "Master Michael," said Denise, "Six Nine Nine One begs that you alert us at 15:59 so that we will be on time for our 1600 appointment."

"I will alert you at 1600, which will be in about nine minutes."

"Thank you, Master Michael"

Master Peterson stuck his head out the door a few minutes later and bid us enter. The three of us crawled in, each with a tawse between our teeth and knelt in front of his desk. Master Black, who is commander of the primary crew, sat in a visitor's chair, next to the desk. Master Peterson stood over us.

"Take the tawse from your mouths," he said. As we did so he said "Nine One Two Five, why are you here?"

Erin said "Master, Nine One Two Five shares the concerns of my slave sisters for the health of Two Four Nine Three. If they deserve to be punished for that concern, so does Nine One Two Five."

"You are a team," said Master Black. "I wish we could take all three of you."

"Managing slaves that think for their masters requires a precise balance between making use of their intelligence and punishing uppity behavior," said Master Peterson. "You, Nine One Two Five, are skirting real close to that line. Nevertheless, you were all correct to report this to me. I have been monitoring her, but her recent deterioration is alarming. Management has finally taken my warnings seriously enough that she's been pulled from the program and will be treated by slave psychologists, but it may already be too late. I'm sorry, but her case of slave mind may already be irreversible."

Denise started to cry quietly, and damnit, Erin and I joined her.

"I realize the final break was sudden. That's the way it happens sometimes. I did warn management this was coming and escalated to corporate. Mister Marshall himself made time for me, but not soon enough. They simply wouldn't remove her from the programs and send her to therapy soon enough," said Master Peterson. "They kept saying she would lose most of her value to them anyway if we pulled her from the program. Mister Marshall had to explain to them that her mind had value to the company outside of this one program. At least she'll be happy."

"This is a bad time to have to announce this," said Master Black "but I'm very glad you three came forward. This is the intelligence I need from my slave. The three of you were the top ranked female slaves. You three, and two males from the B crew slave candidates, will shortly receive several brain chips. These will include the libido chip, but also some bespoke chips that will, when used properly, provide you and Michael the means to exercise some very fine control over your consciousness. You will report to medical on Friday at 900 hours for preparation."
________________________________________

That night, during free play, I knelt facing the mirror with my knees spread, my head high, and my hands laced behind my neck. I beheld the collared woman in the mirror, with her mostly hairless body and her firm, C cup breasts, presenting herself as slave and fucktoy, capable and eager to make any man's cardinal fantasy come true. I could see the slave in me quite easily, but could I see the engineer, the daughter, the astronaut? I thought I still could. After the training I received from the Sharks, I thought they were in no danger, the engineer, the daughter, the astronaut. I would preserve them for they were me, but what about the slave? She was also me and she would be prominent for at least another few months.

The slave in me must always have been there, or I would never have agreed to become a slave regardless of the reward. Some part of me wanted this, liked this, was comfortable with this and that was OK as long as it didn't consume the rest of me.

I thought of a future husband putting me thru my paces, maybe even having me in a FINO arrangement. I started to fondle myself. Yes, he could enjoy the slave in me, should enjoy the slave in me, as long as he appreciated the rest of me too: Engineer, daughter, astronaut, wife, mother, slave and any other identity I would have to master.

But what of the other five. Heck, what of Erin. She'd been tricked into this, but had she really? She was smart, and not just in technical things, no matter what the tabloids said. She should have seen the trap she was being led into. Had she been distracted by the thrill of the fantasy, the temptation to play at slavery, only to be caught by the reality? Were we all no better than Mistress Epsilon, who thought she could play at slavery but avoid being caught?

And what of Twilight? She had grown up in this country and must have known about daughter and sons tricked into slavery by their parents. Had a smart girl like her fallen for slave fantasies? Had we all been betrayed by our inner slave?

I thought about the commonplace slaves of the Sharks. We'd looked down on them because they would have been beneath us, had we all been free, but I'd served them eagerly all the same. That was partly due to the horny juice, but I'd known horny juice was part of the project before I'd signed up and I knew horny juice better than my fellow astronauts because I'd experimented with it once at uni. Hadn't I consented to be part of this project, knowing about the horny juice? Wasn't this whole thing, enforced by shock collars, whips, chains, and the full force of law, something I had consented to? Could I really look down on the commonplace slaves, knowing that their attentions were what I desired?

The slave within was clever. When I got free again, I'd have to keep her on a short leash before she led me to ruin. But she was me. She was as much a part of me as the engineer, the daughter, and the astronaut and she probably liked the idea of being on a short leash. With the right master, she would, I would, approve of being kept on a short leash.

My reverie was interrupted by a punishing shock from my collar. It took me a moment recover and look around. Master Peterson stood over me, shocker in hand and I had been rubbing myself, in effect masturbating, without permission and at a time and place where such was forbidden.

"Forgive, ah, master please forgive," I managed before he interrupted me.

"Six Seven One Nine, you know what you were doing and I know what you were doing. Michael summoned me to deal with the matter. Speaking as trained slave who is now knowledgeable about slave wrangling and working with your full knowledge of the matter, what punishment do you recommend you receive?"

This was really, really going to suck. He'd blocked out the standard response of "Whatever master wishes," and demanded I recommend my own punishment. I thought for a moment and said the words that I knew would cause me more suffering than any slave spanking I'd received to date. "Master, it is now two and a half hours to kennel time. Six Seven One Nine recommends that she first be taken to the grates and made to relieve herself, and then fitted with wrist and ankle bands. She recommends that she be restrained spread eagled on one of the slave mats and that Master Michael be directed to administer a punishing shock should this girl attempt to converse with her fellow slaves or beg her fellow slaves for sexual release. Prior to this restrain, Six Seven One Nine should be fitted with ear pieces and Master Michael be directed to review my online and book purchase and reading history from when I was free and read erotic literature to Six Seven One Nine based on her reading history. Six Seven One Nine should also have remotely controlled vibrating spheres inserted in her vagina which Master Michael should use to keep her stimulated but deny her climax. Six Seven One Nine recommends that she be thus restrained until fifteen minutes before kennel time that she be properly punished but still have time to prepare her kennel, bring in slave litter and such, before kennel time."

"That's a good start, but if fails to make use of the available resources. After you are restrained, I will have one of the other slaves prepare your kennel for the evening. Your proposal also fails to guard against what will surely be a great temptation at that point. Michael, please summon me twenty minutes before kennel time so I may restrain her hands to her collar after I have kenneled her. Further, I charge you with maintaining an especially careful eye on her this night, and administer a punishing shock if she attempts to caress herself or if she starts squeezing her thighs together excessively. Also, you, Nine One Two Five, you're kenneled next to her. If the kennel fire release is used, you will assist her out of her cage. Her hands will be clipped, not locked, to her collar, so you should be able to release her quickly."

"Yes master," said Erin

"Yes Master Peterson," said Master Michael.

"Thank you, master," I said "for providing me with this instruction, and for your kindness in seeing that Six Seven One Nine does not get herself into further trouble this evening."

He bent down and kissed my forehead and said "Such pretty words, exactly what one expects of a slave."

"Master, Six Seven One Nine is a slave and responds as such. Further, she does especially thank master for seeing that she does not get into further trouble this evening."

"You're basically a good girl. Michael, after the first hour, if her fellow slaves choose to grant Six Seven One Nine sexual release, that's fine. Also, isolated words, inarticulate grunts and other typical sexual verbalizations are not to be interpreted as attempts to converse with her fellow slaves."

"This is understood, Master Peterson. Typical sexual verbalizations will not be punished," said Master Michael. "She is also allowed to communicate with me, if she needs to, though I will not be made to distract her from her punishment."

"Master is marvelous in his kindness to an unworthy slave," I said.

"Hardly. You have a merciless streak in you. This should be an instructive experience for you in how a punishment can combine strict discipline with kindness and be more an effective correction because of the combination."

"Yes master." And so, it was done. Susan prepared my kennel and Erin secured wrist and ankle bands on me. Then Master stood over me while I relieved myself into the grating. I inserted my ear pieces and the remote-control vibrating balls. When I lay spread eagled on the slave mat, he secured me in place and left.

Then Master Michael started in with the stories. He knew my reading history and the stories I'd marked and highlighted. Between that, the horny juice, and the vibrating spheres, I struggled in my bonds. In a way, it was a great relief to be bound. Restraining my urge to masturbate was no longer my problem; my masters had taken control of the situation and I could moan with need, but I would not be masturbating tonight.

It was Denise, not Erin, not Susan, and not Cheryl who granted me sexual release. Denise had no mercy. She kissed my mouth and my face and shoulders and caressed me. The state I was in, she brought me home the first time just by kissing and caressing my breasts, and when she started in on my clit, she was relentless. Two, three, four orgasms and still she didn't let up. She was in charge and I was exhausted. I was a sweaty, spent creature when Master Peterson kenneled me for the evening and clipped my wrist bands to my collar.
________________________________________
[Continued next post in this thread]

[timerider]

[Continued from pervious post]
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.

"The Cost of My Dreams"
Chapter 04 (continued) - Identity
By LoyalHound
--------
The day before we were to report to medical, Erin, Denise, Susan, and I were playing Flame Out during free play. I had the deal so I picked up the widow, discarded four cards, called hearts as the trump and play started. Erin was in the hot seat, to my left, and Erin, Denise and I were plenty jittery.

"They still haven't told you anything specific about these bespoke chips?" asked Susan.

"Mistress Springfield told me straight out that ideal curiosity is often punished in slaves," said Erin.

"It could be worse," I said as Erin led the first trick. "From what I've read, it was once popular not to tell a slave what form of birth control she was on, or even that she was on it." Erin had led clubs and I'd voided myself in clubs, so I trumped the first trick. "It made them rather enthusiastic about anal." I had the Ace King of Hearts, so I played those next, leaving only Erin and I with hearts, but she had the queen. A sure win, however she played it. I tried a low spade, which was Erin won with the Ace. She returned a diamond, which Denise won with the Ace.

The game had been going on for close to an hour and we were playing for penalties. Lowest score got a hand spanking from highest score and this hand conclude the match. Even if Erin went down one, Susan was going to lose. Denise had high score, so it looked like Susan was going over her lap at the end of the hand. Erin, managed to win two tricks so she was only down one, I got eight so I was two up, and Susan got none, so she was down two for the hand. Denise, got two and so was one up for the hand, not that she needed more.

Denise smirked and Susan said "This girl begs Six Nine Nine One for the instruction of her bare hand, so that this girl can be better motivated next time we play."

Denise moved to the spanking chair and Susan put herself over Denise's lap, then put her right arm behind her back so Denise could hold it in place. Denise started spanking Susan slowly and lightly, gradually increasing force and speed. When she started in properly, Susan was quickly in tears and Denise stopped and held her gently, kissing her tears away. "At what point did this become normal?" Denise asked. "Punishing each other over a game."

She was right and I was the one who had suggested playing for penalties. Susan deserved better. I said "Susan, please forgive me. This girl begs Eight Three Seven Five for the instruction of her bare hand that this girl may learn to keep her damn mouth shut and not suggest hurting her friends over a damn game."

Susan shook her head. "No," she said. "We all agreed to play for penalties. You're not my mistress; I could have refused. You are *not* my mistress, understand?"

"Yes Susan, this girl understands and will try to better respect your judgement in future."

Susan stood up, walked over to me and took charge of me, kissing me and slipping her tongue in my mouth. Susan in charge was definitely not the worst thing that ever happened to me. We kissed and caressed each other. Eventually, she led me to a slave mat where we lay down together, satisfied to kiss and pet for some time before we finally went down on each other.
________________________________________

Just before we reported to medical for preparations for our surgery, another of my dad's predictions came true. The company had been hosting a contest to pick slave names for all of us, and we were given our new names that morning. I was now Star, Erin was Flame, Denise was Storm, Cheryl was Cloud, Susan was Rain, and poor absent Angela was Thunder.

Because of the bespoke chips, they'd brought in the best neurosurgeons in the country. As the wheeled me into surgery, I thought of my family and how much I wanted to be back with them.

[Belinda]

Such a wonderful next chapter. This piece of work is amazing. Loved that as astronaut slaves they are beyond price.

[LoyalHound]

Thank you very much, Belinda. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. It's going to be a while before I finish the next chapter as I have to do more research on space systems, but I will get there eventually.