Question your results

"Well?" the overseer prods. "Do you have anything to say, ****?"

"Yes, sir," you say, finding your voice sounding a bit more confident than you feel. "I would like to understand how I failed, when I felt my performance in the assessments was at least adequate, and that I was progressing better than some of the other slaves I saw being tested."

"Why does it matter how you failed?" he presses.

"Because I want to prove myself to be a valuable ****," you say. "And if I am not valuable enough, I want to learn how to do better. To improve myself to become the best **** it is possible for me to be."

The overseer stares at you thoughtfully for a moment, and then ever so slightly grins.

"You have a long way to go to become the best **** you can possibly be," he says. "We all do. Even me. But our Master has very strict and very particular standards for what He wants in a personal ****. In our first analysis of you before we arranged for you to end up on the island, you met all His standards we could test. And you continued to pass every other test we gave you. Including the assessment you just went through."

You feel your heart pounding in your chest. A door off the side of the chamber opens...and there He is. Your Master, the Man you first saw charging toward you like a savage, walks in, beaming. He is just as naked as He was back on the beach, and looks every bit as powerful and terrifying even though He is calm and smiling.

"And you just passed the last assessment," your Master says. "I want slaves who are obedient, yes. Unquestioningly so. But not unthinkingly so. Your performance in processing, and how you handled being told you failed when you clearly could not have done so, prove to me that you are the one that I want. Congratulations, ****. I want you as my personal ****."

"Thank You, Master," you exhale in relief. You prostrate yourself and grovel before Him. "Thank You, Master!"

"Not so fast, ****. Make no mistake," He says from right above you. You lift your head just enough to see His feet right in front of you, and you gratefully start kissing them. "Being chosen by Me is an honor, yes. But being My **** is going to be very, very hard on you. You will live the rest of your life in drudgery. Misery. Exhaustion. Pain. I have no affection for you, and I never will. You will be a thing that I own, and that I will use hard for My pleasure, with no regard whatsoever for anything like your well-being. You will fear Me. You will worship Me. You may even love Me. My slaves often do, even as I destroy them."

You shudder as you continue kissing His feet.

"Yes, you heard Me right, ****. Have no doubt of this. I will destroy you. Perhaps in a few weeks. Perhaps in a few years. I have hope that you might last longer than most of my previous slaves have. But some day, sooner or later, your life will end through your service to Me. Not because I will intentionally end you...but just because of how hard I use My slaves. It means nothing to me to replace slaves that I wear out. It means no more to me than changing a light bulb. I do not regret the spent bulb. I just discard it and get a new one."

"So," He continues, "you have one final choice. And know that this is the last choice you will ever have the opportunity to make for the rest of your life. Knowing that belonging to Me will likely end your life sooner rather than later, will you choose to be Mine? If you choose not to be Mine, you will be sent to the mines. Your life will still be nothing but drudgery, pain and exhaustion. You are a ****, and will live the rest of your life as a ****, no matter what. In the mines, that life will likely be longer than if you become My personal ****."

He steps back from you, and when you look up at Him, He jerks His head to indicate that you should rise to your knees. You comply. Then He looks straight into your eyes.

"So what will it be, ****?"