“The Court finds in favor of Sanford Human Commodities Investments and orders further that the Preservation of Humanity Organization cease and desist illegal representation of the firm’s property.” He banged his gavel and turned to Vanessa. “Ms. Boudreaux, the Court will fine you for frivolous lawsuits if you do this again, and that opens the door for SHCI to counter-sue and try to recoup some of the money your group has cost them.”
Vanessa jerked back as if a door had slammed in her face. “How can I represent charges, if they own the women?”
“Exactly,” the Judge responded. “Unless you contract yourself…”
“According to you, even that won’t work,” Vanessa interrupted. “Once I’m signed over, I lose my rights.”
“Geeze, Vanessa. I think you’re finally getting it,” Phillip chuckled.
“You arrogant bastard,” she hissed.
“Ms. Boudreaux!” the Judge thundered. “I suggest your little group find some new cause to challenge, and leave the fine work SHCI has promoted to save the economy… to save a way of life for you and your children… alone. This hearing is over.”
Vanessa was shaking, and Lilly put a hand on her arm. “Come on, Vanessa. Let’s get out of here. We still have our back up plans.”
Phillip climbed into his limo and dialed Mason. “Tomlinson came through. They won’t be able to come after the brokerage firm, but I expect Vanessa to try the same type of thing with the Training Compound. I’ve already got an immediate motion to counter-sue for harassment.”
“I think I’m actually going to miss tormenting that bitch,” Mason chuckled.
“Oh, you’ll have plenty of chances. You are her reason for living, Mason. You give her crazy life meaning. I suspect we’re going to end up with weekly rallies in front of the buildings, now that she won’t be tied up preparing for court.”
“Shit,” Mason groaned.
“Well, I tried to warn you when you told me to put the hammer down,” Phillip laughed.
“Where are you headed?”
“The Training Compound. We have half a dozen US18s coming in around noon.”
“Sounds like fun. Let me see if I can light a fire under Floor Fifty-six to push some CL30s I’m trying to move, and I’ll meet you,” Mason answered.
“Who the hell is going to buy a 30 year old Chilean?” Phillip queried.
“Not my problem. I just want them gone. I’ve already replaced the contract attorney and commodity broker for sticking me with them in the first place. I found out we’ve been sitting on them in training for over two years. Two fuckin’ years, Phillip. I mighta’ been able to dump them, when they were CL28s.”
Chapter II
“Mmmm… I love the end of May,” Mason murmured. “The weather isn’t too hot yet, the market always gets a little bump, and Phillip contracts groups of recent US18 graduates.”
It was 2023, and the firm had been thriving for almost six years. May had become Epiphany Celebration month, mostly because Mason had few fires to put out in the commodity market, Phillip had stacks of signed contracts for parents trying to cash in on their daughters before their price went down, and Eddie was euphoric over examining endless pussies of nubile young women. Even the trainers, who now numbered over fifty, were happy. It was the original four who greeted new contracts, and dispersed them to appropriate new Masters.
The group of four new contracts was led in, and the executives perused the third offering of young women. One was a bleach blonde with a heart shaped sweet face; one was a plain looking brunette; the other two… the other two… were interesting. One was tall with sharp features under shoulder length brown hair, and the other was also tall… five-eight, maybe… with spiky black hair and dangerously applied seductive makeup. “She’s eighteen?” Mason asked.
“Verified through records,” Phillip assured him. “Her graduation picture doesn’t do her justice,” he chuckled. Phillip was fascinated with the woman. She had a confidence that was not overpowering, but she was definitely a force to be reckoned with.
The trainers ordered them to strip, and all the women looked predictably shocked and frightened… except Clarett Dumont, the girl with the spiked hair. She calmly began unbuttoning her blouse and dropped it, leaving her braless firm breasts demanding attention. Phillip’s eyes never left her. While the girl’s fingers moved to her zipper, she said in a calm voice, “Masters, do you mind if I borrow one of those crops?”
What the fuck? Damon walked up to the girl and gripped her chin. He looked into her eyes… and he saw the same sadistic aroused glow any good trainer possessed. He smiled down at her. “What do you have in mind, slut? Want a go at a trainer first?”
“Oh no, Master.” Clarett shook her head as she wriggled out of her tight jeans, exposing a bared bottom.
Phillip was beside himself, and had not been this aroused since the first group of women were brought in front of him, years ago. He watched the girl’s unwavering eyes while she spoke to Damon.
“That ‘girl’ on the end is carrying a little extra baggage,” Clarett told Damon. “I’m curious about why he’s here.” Clarett could not believe her luck when she found herself thrown in the group with the transvestite. She had not been sure how she was going to present her case to be a trainer… though she worked the submissive ropes equally well. At eighteen, she had already spent three years at her father’s BDSM club, and she was as comfortable with SHCI and the trainers as she had been in the bar.
Damon’s eyes snapped to the worried tall ‘girl’ on the end, and he narrowed his eyes on the bump on his throat. He stormed down and grabbed the ‘woman’ by her hair, and dragged her over to Phillip. “You do screen these, don’t you?”
Phillip’s eyes widened, and he tried to think of who the girl was. Sandra something. He nodded his head. “The contract information reads Sandra Wilson… though I don’t remember her being so tall.”
Damon dragged the ‘girl’ to the center of the floor. Clarett was still standing nude and calmly watching the scene with only building arousal pulsing in her gaze. Damon said, “Get those two strapped down, Bill. Terry and Rodrigo, over here.”
What happened next was a thrashing battle as the trainers disrobed the ‘woman’. Clarett backed into Mason’s knee, and while her eyes remained focused on the wrestling men, she said, “Excuse me, Mr. Sanford.”
Mason reached out and pulled the girl onto his lap, and she remained sitting quietly focused on the disruption while he played with her breasts. His hand stopped moving, and everyone sat forward when a belted tight strap between thick thighs came into view. Damon pulled off the band, and an averaged sized withered cock and balls dropped down.
“Fuck me!” Phillip looked up at Clarett, who was staring at Damon and willing for his permission.
The men wrestled restraints onto the man, and secured him to the wall. Damon grabbed a crop and held it out to the girl seated in Mason’s lap. “Go ahead, Spike. Show me what you have.”
“Clarett, Master.” That made her nervous, but she had to begin to demand the same respect as the trainers for them to take her seriously. She knelt down in front of the chained man and grabbed an ankle. Clarett snagged the ankle of the wailing girl hanging next to him, and latched the two together. She did the same on the other side, leaving him spread-eagle against the wall.
Clarett picked up the crop and stood, and she ran it slowly down the bound man’s chest. Phillip… hell, all of them… had not taken their fascinated eyes off the girl. The man spat at her, and she wiped the puddle off her shoulder. In a quick move, she stepped back and lashed the crop down on his hanging penis.
“Aayeee,” the man screamed.
“Who are you?” the girl demanded.
“Aah… aah…” the man gulped for breath through his pain.
Clarett swept the crop up through his balls, and Phillip’s eyes narrowed as they separated and briefly bulged on either side of the perfect strike. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Tony,” h
e blurted. “Tony Wilson.”
The crop sliced sideways across his thighs, and Phillip placed a hand over his crotch. God, she’s magnificent. Phillip had never experienced such desire for any of the women they had contracted.
He missed Eddie’s nudge to Mason as they turned to watch their friend’s mesmerized face. “Shit, Eddie. He’s practically drooling.”
“We may have discovered a secret our friend has been unaware of,” Eddie smiled. Over the years, Mason and Eddie discussed their partner. Phillip would enjoy occasional slaves… but, something seemed to be missing. They were afraid his restrictive upbringing had squelched his enjoyment for their trade.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Clarett demanded. The trainers were standing behind her, nodding their heads in approval. The girl was obviously accomplished.
Clarett raised the crop, and Tony blurted, “Sandy’s my twin sister. Mom and dad kicked us out, and we figured that with the money Sandy could get as a contract, we could set ourselves up somewhere. She chickened out when the transport papers arrived.”
Clarett stalled. Shit… shit, what should I ask him, now? She slammed the crop down on his red swelling organ, and waited for the shriek to end. “Bullshit. You knew they’d figure it out.” She nodded to no one in particular behind her.
“No… I swear… oh, god. Sandy signed up for domestic cleaning. The lawyer said she’d be trained to be a maid.” Tony hung his head in defeat and sobbed.
Clarett smiled triumphantly, and walked back and handed Damon the crop. Their eyes met in an aroused beat, and Clarett glanced quickly at the well-endowed outline of his erection. She whispered, “You better grab me, Master... and there better be an empty room close by.”
“No problem,” Damon murmured.
“Shit, Phillip. What the hell do we do with him?” Eddie asked.
“Excuse me.” Clarett approached them. She had won them over to some degree, she decided. “Mr. Sanford?”
“Yes?” Mason wondered what the extraordinary girl was thinking.
“Grab the sister.”
“No,” Tony shrieked.
“Grab the sister and train them as a pair. There are no parents to worry about investigating, and I imagine you could find a buyer willing to pay a hefty amount for the kinky siblings.” Tony continued shrieking, and Clarett rolled her eyes. “Excuse me, sir.”
She stormed over to the man, grabbed his bruised penis and twisted it sharply. “Shut up. You said you wanted to stay together with your sister, asshole.”
As the room cleared out, with Rodrigo leading the shocked silent man to a cage in seclusion, Damon held a door for Clarett. He watched her tight ass as she strode down the hallway. “In here.” She backtracked to a small empty office with only a small desk and a chair.
Her hands deftly opened the leather pants, and Damon groaned as a black polished nail scraped the length of his shaft. Pre-cum oozed impatiently through his slit, and the girl stroked her tongue across the surface of the purpling bulb. “Oh… god. God damn,” Damon groaned.
Clarett sucked the cap into her mouth while her hands reached under the waistband of his breeches. Damon lifted his ass, forcing length down her throat, and she sucked greedily while they pulled his pants off him. Shit… she’s got me halfway down her throat, Damon acknowledged. That was level four training. Clarett recognized the tightening sack of impending release, and she lifted her lips off his cock.
“Not yet,” she teased.
Damon watched, open-mouthed, while the girl spread her groomed pussy and smeared the copious amount of cream along her slit. She turned and bent forward, and smiled over her shoulder while she lubricated her ass. Damon was trembling, and the girl spread her thighs to the outside of his, rose, and sank down in agonizing slowness. She reached for his hands, and place one on a breast and the other between her spread thighs.
Damon busied himself with her clit, plunging his fingers into a dripping channel. The girl did not rise and pump his cock in and out. Instead, she gripped and released her internal muscles, driving him mad. “Master? You know what I want.”
“We’ve never had a Dominatrix. We don’t trade men,” he ground out.
“Who the hell says I need to work a man?” Clarett asked. “I can work both sides of the fence… all sides of the fence. Fuck, Master… I can work the whole pasture.”
Clarett finally began riding his cock, while gently squeezing testicles trapping fluid with their swollen tightness. Damon groaned, “Fuck me… oh, damn… fuck me,” and he exploded what felt like a week’s worth of load into her tight ass.
In the end, Clarett won her position as trainer. Between her extraordinary display the first day and convincing the partners that training some of the women to eat pussy would increase their commodity value, she became an integral part of their outfit… and she moved into Phillip’s quarters on the eleventh floor.
She still met Damon for trysts… hell, she had been through half the trainers, but Damon was still her favorite. Phillip held the key and security to her future, though. He was also the only available man she could express her talents with.
“Clarett,” Phillip whined. She had exited the shower a few minutes ago.
“You know I don’t answer to that,” she called back
“Mistress, please. Mason’s going to be here any minute.”
“I know.” Clarett exited the bathroom in a black push-up corset that exposed her breasts, five inch heals, and her hair and makeup applied with dangerous, seductive precision. She poured herself a brandy and walked over to her hanging roommate.
Phillip was strung up with his wrists secured to a short beam his arms were wrapped around. His ankles were bound to his thighs with coarse rope, and his balls were bulging through rings. Clarett wrapped the hand not holding the snifter around his cock, and pumped him slowly.
“Oh… oh, god, Clarett.” Phillip groaned. “Please… he’s going to be here in a minute.” He was almost too aroused to consider the embarrassment of his friend seeing him in the strange predicament.
“Mistress, Phillip,” Clarett reminded again. “And your friends are fully aware of what you’re up to. Why else would I be living in your suite?”
“Oh god.” Phillip began rocking into her fist, and he gasped when there was a knock on the door.
Clarett gave his shaft a quick squeeze. “Don’t go anywhere,” she chuckled. She opened the door. “Mr. Sanford, come in. Can I get you a brandy?”
Mason gazed at Phillip, who was turning beat red. Phillip said quickly, “It isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” Mason chuckled and turned towards Clarett. “Brandy will be fine… and Clarett, don’t waste your time trying to seduce me to your games. I’m afraid Phillip is the only one who can garner enjoyment from them.”
“Can’t blame a Domme for trying, Mason.” Clarett had begun dropping the formalities with the partners, after her initial acknowledgement of subservience. She handed Mason his snifter, and sighed, “I may as well slip on a robe, then.”
While she walked to the bedroom, Mason approached his partner. He winced at his bulging sack. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Like a bitch,” Phillip agreed. “Can you get me down from this thing? Clarett is getting way too much enjoyment at my expense.”
“Shit, Phillip.” Mason stared at the sling. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
Phillip ended up spending Mason’s entire thirty-minute visit hanging naked in the sling while his balls throbbed. Clarett lay back on a chaise, squeezing her nipples and licking her lips while she smiled at Phillip as he tried to concentrate and finish giving Mason his contract report. The whole scenario seemed obscenely absurd under the circumstances, but Clarett had been so turned on that she more than made up for his discomfort.
In the morning, Phillip dressed in his ‘Court’ suit. It had been a few months since POHO had managed to worm its way onto the docket, and the Judge already called to prepare Phillip with their new nonsense. Apparent
ly, the organization was in even graver financial dire straights, and the women were representing themselves again.
Vanessa was obsessive in her commitment. Who could really argue with an organization whose sole mission was to abolish the sale of women as slaves? By the time Daria had entered the world, the system of slavery had become even worse. SHCI had pushed through legislation that made the sale of women a lucrative financial windfall, and at their last hearing it was declared that the contracted girls would be considered owned commodities without any rights.
Vanessa and the other leaders were fixated on the need to destroy the firm. They had tried through numerous battles in court to argue that it was illegal for the brokerage house to be one quarter owned by the law firm and private training compound. Their funds had almost dried up, and it was becoming more difficult to get donations when the commodity market had helped get the economy in motion again. Three months ago, the Judge had ruled against them again, and stated that SHCI had no alternative method of supplying legal representation or proper training for the safety of the women, as they were the flagship in the market.
They were shut down almost immediately when Phillip lost his polite countenance, and the Judge removed their complaint from the docket concerning their case against the Training Compound for abusing the women. The courts made noise that they would open the door for SHCI to sue POHO if they continued the witch-hunt against the brokerage house or its affiliates.
Vanessa was incensed, but no less passionate in her cause. The leaders of POHO devised a plan… as unethically legal as SHCI’s most shrewd commodity deals… in hopes of exposing the true nature of the market and bring SHCI to its knees. It would take time, years in fact, while more women were subjected to the blasphemy of the evil world of human slavery.
While POHO lay gasping and clinging to life, SHCI was flourishing. The Training Compound was streamlined to produce level ten slaves in less than a year. Some were ready in six months, and as well as saving the cost in training, the younger crop was more lucrative.
Human Commodity Page 6
