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I got back from
She was no longer wearing her evening gown;
now she just wore a simple short black skirt and matching, low cut, sleeveless
top. One strap of her top was hanging off her shoulder. She also had on the
stiff leather collar and the identity tag that marked out all of those that
were going through preparation. Her face looked gaunt; dark bags under her eyes
testified to nights without sleep. She stared past me with an empty look in her
eyes.
She’d been brought to one of the interview
rooms. “Hello Rachel,” I said, pointing to a chair. “Sit down.”
She looked at me, puzzled. “I have to stand
or kneel,” she said in a flat voice. “I’m not allowed to sit. The rules say I’m
not allowed to sit. They punish me if I sit.”
“I know,” I replied, gently. “But it’s all
right if I say so. You can sit down.” She did so, keeping her legs side by
side, her feet flat to the floor, her knees slightly parted. She was wearing
shackles around her wrists but her hands were chained in front of her. She put
her hands in her lap and sat quite motionless. I could see that her wrists were
bruised from the shackles. Her face was bruised too. She had a cut over one
eye, and a puffy lip. They hadn’t been gentle with her. She could see I was
looking at her.
“They raped me.”
“I know,” I answered.
“The men and the women.”
“I know. I can make it stop. If you do as I
ask then I can make it stop.”
“That’s what they said. If I do as I’m told
all will be well. I’m trying to do as I’m told. Can you make it stop?”
“If you write for me. If you do as you are told.”
“I’d like you to make it stop.”
“Good. I’ll send you some papers. They’ll
explain what I want. You’ll be given a computer to write with. You’ll give the
files to your guard. He will give them to me. As long as you do as I ask it
will stop.”
“No more rape?”
“No. Not if you do as I ask.”
“It was so many times. I’ve lost count. Both in front and behind. And in my
mouth.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes they tie my wrists before they rape me. Sometimes they spread my legs out with a bar. Sometimes they gag me. Sometimes they let me scream.”
“I know.”
“And you can make it stop?”
“If you do as I ask.”
“Are you going to rape me?”
“No, not now.”
“Not now?”
“No, because I think you are going to do as
I ask. At least at the moment I think you will do as I ask. If I find that
doesn’t happen I may change my mind.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said. “I want you to
make it stop. I don’t want you to rape me. I don’t want them to rape me.” I
pressed the button.
A guard appeared. “She’s to have a computer
in her cell,” I said, “No network of course. And some papers I’ll send. She’ll
provide files each day. She’s not to be raped. As long as she behaves, and
provides the files, she’s not to be raped.”
“Understood,” said the guard. “I’ll pass
the word.”
I saw her later, watching her through the panel of one way glass. She was seated at a table. A chain ran from her ankle to a ring in the wall. She had been given a computer and the file of papers. She was reading the file. She put her head in her hands. I could see she was sobbing. She stopped after a few moments and looked back at the door of her cell and then back at the file. She turned on the computer. It seemed like I was going to get my script.
I went off to speak to Harry. Sarah in his outer office doing the PA thing just as she had been before Freddie had thrown his little spanner in the works. She greeted me with a smile and buzzed through to Harry without being asked. “Mr Ross for you, Sir,” she said into the intercom. Harry told her to send me in and she ushered me through the door into his office.
“How are things now Sarah’s back in her seat?” I asked.
“Fine,” said Harry. “Thanks for your help with that. I don’t know why Brian wouldn’t take her for that sale. She’d have helped his numbers no end. Freddie was furious.”
“Was he? He didn’t say anything.”
“No, that‘s the worst time. Freddie when he’s quiet is a worrying prospect.”
“Well, I guess that’s Brian’s problem,” I said. I wasn’t feeling terribly sympathetic. “Still, what I wanted to see you for was this video stuff I’m doing. I ought to include Sarah, because I told Freddie that was why we were hanging on to her. It’s only some prototype stuff at the moment but I’ll need her for a few days. Is that OK?”
“Sure,” said Harry, “I can hardly complain can I? She wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t put your ideas up. I’ll set it up now.” He buzzed on the intercom. “Sarah, come in please.”
“Yes at once,” she said and was through the door almost before the click of the intercom had died away.
“Sarah,” Harry said. “Larry wants to make a video an example of the stuff we’re going to use to help sell girls on the web site. He’s asked that you take part in it.”
“Well if you can do without me. I mean I don’t want to let you down.“
“That’s all right, Sarah. Please do all you can to help Larry.”
“Oh, of course, if you say so.”
I turned to Sarah. “Let me explain a bit about this. I need a short sequence of a slave selling herself. You’ll be interviewed on camera, asked to show some of your dancing skills, that sort of thing. You needn’t worry about it too much, we’ll steer you through it.” I didn’t wait for her response. “We’ll start right now.” Harry put in a call from his phone. A few moments later a guard appeared. I asked him to take Sarah over to the room I’d had set up. “They'll sort you out there," I said to Sarah. The guard gripped her by the arm and almost pulled her through the door.
Two days later with Sarah returned to her cell I took the video up to show Harry. “I thought you might like a preview,” I said, slipping the disk into his DVD player. The video opened with a close up shot of Sarah’s face, her mouth distended by a bright red ball gag. Behind her head, out of sight, the strap was loosened and the gag pulled clear. She worked her jaws to relieve the stiffness, licked her lips and swallowed. “Thank you,” she said.
“Right, #06/085,” it was my own voice off camera. “You are going to need to be convincing if you want to stand out from all the other slaves on offer. Let the buyers see what they would be getting first of all. Stand up!”
The camera zoomed back as Sarah got to her feet. You could see that she was wearing a short tight fitting mini-dress with cap sleeves and a scooped neckline that just showed some cleavage and, of course, her collar. She held her hands modestly in front of herself. Her hair was loose, as red as ever, hanging in waves to her shoulders.
“Turn around!” Sarah did so, compliant as always. As she did so the camera zoomed out further giving a shot of her legs in black tights. “And sit please.” Again she did as she was told, sitting in the approved manner, feet side by side and flat to the floor, hands in her lap. The camera zoomed in slowly to fill the screen with a shot of Sarah from the waist upwards.
“Personal details,” I said peremptorily.
“I am #06/085,” she answered. “23 years old and five feet four inches tall. I weigh 115 pounds normally. You can see I’m a red head, I think. I was collected in early March and I’ve completed my basic training. I’ve learned the basics of obedience and I hope that my trainers would agree that I have been a good student.” She turned to look at the camera and bit her lower lip, obviously concerned that the audience should indeed believe her.
“You’re a dancer, I believe. You have some skills in that area which I am sure prospective purchasers would be interested in. Please show us.”
“Oh, well, I’m not a professional or anything it’s just what I do at week ends at the clubs in town for fun. But if you think the buyers would like to see it, of course I will.”
She got to her feet. A Northern Soul medley kicked off on the sound track. I know they’re corny but I’ve always been a sucker for the floor fillers from the Wigan Casino and I reckoned they would fit our demographic better than some of the techno that turns up in the clubs now. Curtiss Mayfield started off with “Move on Up”. Sarah seemed to managing it nicely. I’m no expert on dance and I certainly couldn’t tell you anything about her moves except to say that she managed to combine an athletic movement with a graceful timing and soulful interpretation of the music. It looked like, for a few minutes she’d forgotten where she was and why she was doing what she was doing. Her hair span out like a halo around her head as she gyrated in time with the music. K C & the Sunshine Band came on with ‘She’s the Queen of Clubs”. Sarah picked up her tempo to match. I had her finished on a slower track; Frank Wilson’s ‘Do I love You?’ She did the business to that as well. I left off the tracks that I thought might upset her. I didn’t think Fontella Bass and ‘Rescue Me’ or Edwin Star and ‘SOS’ would be quite the thing.
The music stopped and Sarah returned to her seat. “Thank you,” I said.
“Was that all right?” she asked looking over her shoulder towards where she had been dancing. “I could do some more if it helps?” She looked back towards the camera. “I hope everyone enjoyed that. Please watch the rest.” She smiled nervously, uncertain of what was to happen next.
“That’s fine #085,” I said, “But now we need to see some more of your body.” She started as two masked guards came in and gripped her by either arm. In and admirable display of obedience she allowed herself to be led from the stage only to reappear moments later. In the intervening moments she had been stripped of her dress. Now she wore only bra, panties, stockings, a suspender belt, high heeled shoes and her slave stock collar. Her gag was back in place, forcing her lips into a big round ‘O’.
“Walk up and down, please, 085,” I said. She did as she was asked, swinging her legs from her hips, making the most of her heels, clasping her hands behind her back as she had been instructed. “And, stop. Hand behind your head.” The camera panned over her body lingering in close up over her tits, belly, hips, crotch and calves. “Turn around please.” The camera tracked up. “And bend please.” She reached forward, Fit as she was, she had no difficulty in clutching her ankles as I had asked. The camera took a good shot of her tight arse before zooming back to see her looking back through her spread legs, her red hair tumbling to the floor behind her head.
“And move again please.” Sarah got up and span around. She placed her right hand on the chair she had been sitting on and lifted her left leg until it was at hip height. She changed hands and did the same with her right leg. The audience would be in no doubt of her athletic abilities. “Let us see your breasts, please.” She looked at me for a moment and then obediently reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, stripping it off and dropping it on the chair. The camera zoomed in again, filling the screen with her pert breasts and the dark areolas surrounding her nipples. The camera zoomed out. “And walk.” She began to parade up and down the platform. “Head up, back straight,” I ordered. She stiffened in response. “Shoulders back, breasts out. And turn….” She walked back. “And turn. Keep your shoulders back and breasts out please. Thank you. And turn…”
The video footage came to a close. The screen went black.
“What do you think?” I said to Harry.
“Well she knows how to take direction, that’s for certain,” he said with a grin. “But I think I knew that already. Seriously though I think it looks quite good. Have you worked out what you’re doing with it yet?”
“Yeah, I think so. But at least with that in the can we can convince Freddie we’ve done something and she can get back to work in your office tomorrow.”
“Well thanks for that Larry,” Harry said. It’s been a real help having her around. Let’s hope we can keep on thinking of excuses to hang on to her.”
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