Home      Human Commodity
It was brilliant. After another world economic crisis and total financial meltdown, to be able to trade young women as commodities was a sure-fire solution to restore prosperity. Everyone appeared to gain; the young woman’s family who were paid a substantial sum for their daughter, the young woman herself who was provided with gainful employment, and the financial markets suddenly boosted by this new and exciting commodity. Except… once contracted, the women were no more than slaves, and, inevitably, sex slaves. Opposition from a feminist group, the Preservation Of Humanity Organization, was fierce, persistent, but unsuccessful. Eventually, the only option for the feminists was for their own daughters, who had been kept isolated from the real world since birth, to be submitted to the contracted training to gather evidence and to destroy it from the inside.
We are the first to go through the entire training program. I imagine we will have quite a few more choices in direction than those that follow.  I’m sure that several of you have either executive administrative skills or were on a path to a professional position before the collapse, so I guess we know where we’ll be heading.”  Bethany winked at the group of‘street’ clothed women.  She turned back to the young girls in the shifts.  “If you did not take any college courses in high school, the market is going to be flooded with untrained commodities.  I suggest you make it clear you expect to be educated in domestic leadership so that the newer girls are placed under your position in the household.”
Kayla tried to digest the self-assured woman’s words, and her mind blinked onto the girl in the brochure serving tea.  “Is that all you think we’ll have available?  I mean, maybe there’s gardening or brushing horses in stables or something.”

“I guess it’s possible.  I imagine they would expect you to already have a rudimentary background in those areas, though.  Just follow my lead, and we’ll stick together through this,” Bethany finished.  She was pleased that the women were falling into line under her leadership, and she would make certain this quality was noted by the trainers. Eight more women were led in, and Bethany quickly filled them in on what was to be expected.  “These new trainers are going to be feeling their way through this first session, also.”


Kayla found herself to be slightly comforted by Bethany’s convincing reassuring speech.As the women soon discovered, Bethany was a fool.


They were led down a long dark passageway that appeared to travel under the sidewalks overhead.  It opened to a small office, and they were led through a side door to a large, circular room.  This room was better lit, and the grouped girls… ‘street’ clothes on one side, shifts on the other… looked across to two seated well dressed men.  A doctor stood beside them.


“Oh my god,” Bethany gasped, and her hands flew down to smooth her skirt.  “That’s Mason Sanford.  I guess he wanted to see the first group going through.”


Kayla peered through the shadows across the room, locating the handsome fantasy man who had been the object of many pleasant sessions when she was alone.  “Who are the other men?” Kayla whispered.


“His attorney, Phillip, is sitting next to him.  He’s the man I just finished going through my contracts with.  I think the other man is Eddie, the third partner in charge of the Training Compound,” Bethany gossiped. She had already decided to raise her sights, and maybe forgo Rome or Paris if the handsome Mr. Sanford… single too, from what the tabloids reported… needed an executive assistant commodity.


Bethany’s batting eyes widened, as did those of the rest of the gathered women, when a door to the side opened and four half-naked muscle-bound men walked into the room.  One of
the large men, a man with a long dark ponytail, began issuing orders and separating the women into groups of five.  Bethany ended up in his group, and he led them to stand in front of the seated executives.  Bethany lifted her chin and straightened, in an attempt to present herself to Mr. Sanford as the capable person with the ability to quickly control adverse situations.

“Strip,” the brutish man in charge of her group demanded.
Bethany’s eyes widened in shock and she stared at him. “What?” she asked in confusion.

Her jaw set and she sneered, “Who the hell do you think you are?”  She straightened further and glared at the trainer, and then Bethany, aka Betty Ann back in Farmington, Alabama, was thrown completely off balance.


The sadistic looking trainer took two strides forward, and she felt his strong fingers grip through her hair.  Fingers dug under her lace collar and he tore the blouse that had cost Bethany the partial return of her apartment deposit, clean down to her waist.  The faux pearl buttons clattered towards the walls, and by the time his fingers dug into her breast and squeezed until she was practically pushed out of her bra, she was screaming in terror and trying to claw up at him.  She felt him lean down and his beard brushed her ear as he hissed, “I am your Master, slut. Now strip, or you’ll be sucking my cock while we watch your friends obey.”


Kayla had been watching the self-assured woman in horror, while standing across the room with her group.  She reached under the hem of her shift, and slowly raised it over her head.  Somehow, her trembling fingers found the edge of the pink panties, and she pulled them down her long legs and stepped out of them.  One arm crossed over her breasts, while her hand cupped over her pussy.


The man in charge of her group approached her, and Kayla instinctively took a step back. “Easy, girl,” the man said softly, and she recognized his voice as belonging to the man who had taken her from her bedroom.  Her eyes widened and filled again with tears. Her mascara was already running down her cheeks, and his thumb smeared it, thinning the streaks until they were wiped away. There was a hint of a smile in his sadistic eyes when he lifted one of her hands.


Kayla watched from a detached perspective as he locked cuffs onto her wrists and ankles. When the collar snapped around her throat, she pictured her fantasy from her bath the night before.  There was nothing erotic or arousing about the reality of the scene. Kayla was terrified.


The big man leaned down and whispered, “Just follow my orders, and you’ll be fine.”  His hand pushed down on her shoulder, “Kneel.”


Kayla sank to her knees.  Her legs really did not want to hold her, anyway.  She watched him secure the cuffs and collars on the other girls, and all but one was told to kneel next to her.  One of the ‘street’ clothes was pulled from their group, and she watched the other trainers each select a young woman. The women were sobbing as they were secured to a wall across from them, and Kayla cried as she clenched her fists that were secured by the wrist cuffs locked together and resting on her bottom.


The big man with the ponytail turned to them and said, “Count the strikes.  If you refuse, you will be exchanging places with them.”

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