Chapter 4: Preparation Is Everything

As it happened my visit to the Prep Centre coincided with when the girl I had helped to snatch turned up.

The Prep Centre was a big shed – ‘Distribution Depot’ it said over the outside – sitting like a great white shoe box on the edge of a small airfield. A truck pulled up and backed on to one of three loading docks at the right hand end of the shed. “F.C. Meat Products” it said in large lettering across both doors and beneath it in smaller script, “Prime Quality – Farm Fresh – Organic”, a telephone number and the web site address “www.FC_Meat.co.uk”.

The doors at the back of the truck swung open with a loud clang as they slapped back against the sides of the truck. Inside there were four girls, taped up and gagged, strapped to the back wall of the truck. They were all looking startled and scared. I watched as each of the girls was loaded onto a four wheel trolley. A hook from the frame held them up on tip toe by the tape or rope that joined their elbows behind their backs. The trolleys were rolled off the truck, passing us and off into the depot. Jackie was rolled off first; startled to see Harry and me standing at the end of the truck’s ramp.

“Don’t we need masks?” I said to Harry.

“Oh no,” he said shaking his head as Jackie was pushed away. “No masks except on operations, and only then if there’s a risk that someone other than the target will see us. The boss doesn’t like them. Says they encourage sloppiness – this way it keeps people’s minds on the need to make sure our young ladies don’t wander off. We don’t blindfold them either once they’re here, for the same reason.” Jackie was squeaking quietly into her gag as she was wheeled away.

Next off was a girl in a long, electric blue, strapless evening gown. She was still wearing her jewellery – pearls and diamonds so big they had to be fakes, though I guess they might just have been real. “Hope she enjoyed her party,” Harry grinned. Just like Jackie, her mouth was taped shut, cheeks bulging like an over-fed hamster. “The lads did a good job when they picked this one up. With her mouth stuffed like that there’s no risk of her making a noise. It’s no good just taping over their lips – they’re likely to push the tape off with their tongues if you leave them for long.”

The other two girls looked like they’d been snatched off a tennis court. One in shorts, a blonde, the other, mousey haired, in a short pleated skirt, both in white, both wearing short sleeved tops and trainers. They’d used one trolley for the two of them. Harry leant forward as the trolley came by. He reached out and groped the blonde’s breasts. “These are nice,” he said, squeezing and pinching as the girl tried to struggle away from him. “Not too big, nice and firm. I might get together with you later on.” She looked at him, her eyes wide in terror, as the trolley rolled her away.

“Don’t you have to leave the girls alone, then?” I asked. “I mean, shop-soiled merchandise and all that.”

“Nah,” said Harry. “We’re encouraged to. It lets the girls know what they are in for from day one.”

“That’s it - look cute and be ready for pain ‘Chic and Ow’, we call it –,” said a voice from behind me.

“Bloody hell, Rick, your jokes don’t get any better,” said Harry, turning round “This is Rick, he runs the place. Rick, meet Lawrence – he’s doing some stuff for Mr. C.”

I put my hand out to shake his.

“Great,” he said, with a grin. “When Harry met Larry.”

“Whatever,” responded Harry, “Mr C, thought he should have a look around. Can I leave him with you? I thought I might take up some tennis lessons. See you later, Larry” Without waiting for Rick to reply, he stalked off in pursuit of the trolleys.

Rick gave a snort as he watched him go and then pointed to a door at the other end of the loading dock. “Come on through,” he said, “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Through the door lay a corridor with a series of doors leading off it. “What’s through here?” I asked. “Cells? Weapons rooms?”

Rick looked almost embarrassed and opened a door revealing a few desks, some computers and two large filing cabinets. “Nothing so exciting along here. Just offices, I’m afraid. All this stuff takes a load of admin. You’ve no idea how much effort we have to put in just to keep track of where the girls are.”

“Uh, huh, I grunted. I wasn’t hard to be unimpressed.

“This, though,” he went to open another door, “is more interesting.”  The room inside was a dark corridor. From it viewing panels looked into a series of rooms each of which seemed to hold a captive woman. “Come on in – these are one way mirrors in the cells, the girls can’t see us. Not that it would matter anyway, I guess.”   

We stood beside the panel looking into the room that held the party girl. Under the panel was a frame which held a card with a number – 06/034 – and a name - Vivienne - after it in brackets.  She’d been stripped of her blue, silk, dress but she was still wearing the underwear she had put on that evening, no doubt in hopes of an intimate encounter different from that which she could soon now expect. She had been left in her silk basque and knickers, together with her stockings and shoes. The tape had been taken off her wrists, elbows and ankles and now all that held her was a chain padlocked to the wall at one end and her ankle at the other. The gag had gone as well but I could see the red rash where they had pulled the tape from her face. The screwed up tape and a wad of cloth lay on the floor beside her. Her cheeks were tear streaked with mascara. Her hair was a mess - she had put her long brown hair up but some of it had come loose in her struggles and now tumbled across her naked shoulder. The room was empty apart from a single, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling and a small metal bucket.

“OK,” said Rick, “this is how it starts. We bring them in here and keep them in one of these rooms for a couple of days. Mostly they think they’re being held for ransom fro some reason. Two days - three days on their own; then they start to get a bit twitchy. The cells are all wired and video monitored so we can keep an eye on them. Let’s have a look in the next one.” We took a few steps along the corridor. “This one’s been here for a week.”

The girl in the cell looked less than twenty years old but a haunted look in her eyes suggested that she had seen more in the last week than in the rest of her young life. ‘06/022 (Anya)’ the label on the frame said. She was completely naked apart from a collar around her neck with a small metal tag hanging from it. Her head had been shaved. She wore the same chain as the girl in the cell next door.

“Watch this,” said Rick pressing a button on a panel below the viewing panel. A buzzer could be heard sounding in the cell. Almost at once the girl got to her feet and turned to face the wall we were looking through, she put her hands on her head and looked blankly towards us. “That’s pretty good. After a week they’re already conditioned to respond to simple instructions like that. It’s all part of encouraging them to get used to doing as they are told. When they leave here, they are ready to be trained for whatever specific role they are going to take up. We don’t do anything more than get them set up for it.”

The girl was standing only a foot from the viewing panel. Red wheals were clearly visible across her breasts. “Do they need much ‘encouragement’ in the early stages,” I asked pointing at the marks.

“That’s quite mild,” Rick said. “We haven’t asked her to do anything difficult yet. She’ll still be in the state where she thinks she can go along with some things but hold on to some control herself. She’ll learn. Of course it’s difficult to strike a balance – enough encouragement to get them to comply, not so much that they end up damaged.” He pushed the button again, another buzz. She dropped her hands to her sides and then sat down again on the floor. “Each little buzz, each piece of obedience helps reinforce things. We don’t mind if it takes a while.”

The room alongside held the girl that Harry had gone off in search of.  ‘06/038 (Carol)’ her label said. As we walked by she was being manhandled, still bound and gagged, into the cell. Harry followed her into the cell. “Put her ankle chain on,” I heard him say, “and then I’ll see what those titties are like close up.” He turned to the girl. “Don’t be upset little cunt,” he said, almost affectionately as he reached out a hand and cupped one of her breasts, “you’ll have plenty of gentlemen callers while you’re here.”  She tried to pull away from him, earning a slap on the face. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her back against the wall of the cell. Pushing her sports top up over her breasts he started to pinch and squeeze her tits.

“That’s pretty much the shape of things here - sex and violence,” said Rick as we walked on. By the time we send them on they’re ready for what they’ll have to cope with.”

We walked on passing five or six more cells, all occupied by naked, chained, prisoners. At the end of the corridor a door opened out into a brightly lit lobby area. At a desk to one side, next to what was evidently the door to a parallel corridor serving the cells themselves, a bored guard sat, working away at a cross-word puzzle. Manilla folders were piled up on the desk in three trays, Incoming, Outgoing, Storage. Rick walked across to the desk and picked up one of the folders from the tray marked Storage. “Here you go,” he said, passing it to me, “these are the sort of records we keep.” 

It was the file for the girl I had helped capture. On the front the word “collected” had been stamped in red. Inside the front cover was a full face photo and a form listing a set of basic data; name, age, height and weight, vital statistics, home address, work place. There was space for details of medical conditions, educational qualifications, close associates. In the rest of the file were a series of what seemed to be surveillance reports. There were more photos of Jackie – her in a coffee shop chatting into her mobile phone, emerging from a clothes shop clutching a large carrier bag and wearing a big smile, skipping up the steps of the university library. The final document in the file was a short memo which said. “Subject authorised for collection for internal use. Not for re-sale. FC.”  I handed it back.

“You see, we try to run a professional operation.”

“Sure,” I said, “why wouldn’t you?”

Rick showed me through another door. “These are the research facilities,” he said. It looked just like another room full of computers to me. “We do some from here, most of the major stuff is done elsewhere but if we’ve got an opportunity for a pick up we can carry out the basic checks – make sure they won’t be missed too quickly, that sort of thing.” 

“Harry said you use video surveillance in research,”

“Oh sure, we keep any thing for the current projects on a video server farm – we can call up anything we’ve got at one of these work stations. Use it for planning or briefing the snatch squad as we need to. Here, look,” he scrolled down a list of numbers, until he picked out “05/209 (Caroline)”. A tap on the keyboard brought up a further list, dates, times, locations. “These are all cross referenced as we collect them. Some of the footage is from intercepted public systems, sometimes it’s our own concealed cameras. Another tap on the button and the file started to play. It was a bar. Sitting at it staring at a half empty glass was a man. From the back it could have been anyone. “That’s Harry,” said my host. He always likes at least one chance to get up close to the target. Say’s you can’t really judge weight, agility, stuff like that, from video.

A girl came into the bar, the camera lens zoomed in on her, out of focus for a moment. She was a blonde, wearing a v-neck sweater that clung tightly to a pair of tits as round as grapefruit. She walked passed the camera and it panned back, following her across the bar. Her arse was as nicely rounded as her tits. The bar was empty but she stood right next to Harry. He looked up as she reached the bar. There was no sign of the barman. She turned to Harry, “Can I get a drink here?” she asked.

“I guess,” Harry replied. “I got this in living memory. You don’t look like the kind of girl anyone would let go short of a drink for long.”

“Well, thank you kind sir,” Caroline answered. She was twisting a lock of her hair in her fingers as she talked, looking straight at Harry. The barman came into shot. She didn’t notice him; she was just looking at Harry. They talked some more. She was flirting, he was flirting back.

He looked at his watch and apologised. “Sorry, I have to go,” he said.

“I may still be here later,” she said.

“That would be great, I’ll maybe get back.” He left her. She turned to the barman and ordered a vodka and tonic. He served her. The video stopped.

“And then?” I said. Rick picks another file further down the list. The video started up again. This time it was dark, out of doors. Harry was standing at the back of a large saloon car. He lifted up the lid of the boot. The camera zoomed in. It was Caroline.  She was unconscious; gagged with silver tape that reflects the lights from the video camera. The same tape was wound around her chest and arms, just below her tits, it dragged her sweater tight across her breasts making them look even fuller and firmer than they did before. Harry smiled at the camera and dropped the lid of the boot. The video stops. 

“Its not just video though,” Rick says selecting another file. It was Caroline voice again. This time she sounded like she was on the phone. She’s talking to an answering machine

“Hey,” she said. “I thought I’d call you. Just popped back to the room. I met this cute guy and … well you know me….let’s see how it goes. Wish me luck.” The phone went dead.

“Phone tap?” I said.

“Uhhuh,” says Rick. “Phone taps, bugs, anything really to get the background or limit the risks. With that one we could hack the machine and wipe the message. Harry doesn’t like leaving loose ends.” He smiled. “The other thing we do is to record all the debriefing sessions we do here. Here, watch this…” He clicked on a file labelled “05/224 (Jane)”. The video had been shot in a small room with a single chair. Behind the chair was a door. It opened and two men pushed a tall blonde girl into the room. She was wearing a white blouse and a straight black skirt. She was wearing heels – they made her stand taller than the two men. Her hair was quite short, cut close to her head giving her a curiously punkish look that contrasted with her conservative clothes. She was gagged. They sat her on the chair and tied her to it. They took off her gag and left the room. She was looking around to left and right. A disembodied voice said, “Hello, Jane.” She looked startled, staring around herself, looking for the source of the voice.

“Where are you?” she sad. “Why am I here? You’ve got to let me go. There must be some mistake.”

The voice seems to sympathise with her. “Don’t worry, Jane,” it said, “There are mistakes sometimes. I’m sure if there’s any mistake we can soon sort it out. Perhaps you can help me?” 

“Oh,” Jane said, puzzled. “Help you? Why should I help you? Why don’t you let me go?”

“Well, Jane, I could but then if there hadn’t been a mistake – then that wouldn’t be right would it?”

Jane seemed confused. “Err, no, I guess not but you can’t have meant to kidnap me.”

“As I say, it’s possible that a mistake has been made. Let me ask you some questions. In your office, tell me, are you the only senior secretary?”

“Oh no, there’s four of us.”

“Ah, perhaps that’s the problem. Tell me about the others.”

“The others. Ah – there’s Angie. Actually she looks a bit like me, blonde too but a bit shorter. Her parents are quite wealthy. They’ve got a yacht, she goes off for long weekends, we never know whether she’s coming back on Mondays but she doesn’t’ seem to care – says she doesn’t really need the money. You must have meant to kidnap her. Or, Louise. Oh, no I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“It’s all right. You’re just helping me out. We have to correct any mistakes, don’t we?”

“I, I guess so, well, Louise she’s …..”

Rick turned down the volume. “Will you look at that,” he says. “She’s falling over herself to find something that will let her get free. We’ll get enough information to pick up two of her three friends over the next couple of weeks. You get that sometimes. If they don’t resist then often they’ll be really cooperative. Makes our job easy but, hah,” He flicked the video off in disgust. “I’m glad I haven’t got friends like that. Anyway, where have we got to?” He scratched his head and thought for a moment. OK let’s see. You’ve seen research, the reception cells, a little bit on debriefing, something about the records and admin. I guess you should see something of the processing that goes on after arrival.”

“OK,” I said, “lead on.” 

Rick lead the way back out into the lobby. Alongside the desk that guarded the entrance to the cells were three other doors, each labelled with clear signs, Evaluation, Orientation, Despatch. As we got back to the desk Jackie, now naked but still bound, was hustled through the door from the cells. “Ah, here’s your little friend,” Rick said, picking up her file. “Why don’t we go watch as some of the blank spaces in her profile get filled in.”

Jackie was kicking and struggling against the two men holding her as she was half pulled, half thrown through the door marked “Evaluation”. We followed her. Beyond the door was a small doctor’s surgery. As we came in one of the men called, “Hey, Rick, since you’ve got her file can you note the scores down?”

“Sure,” Rick replied. Jackie was squealing as they pushed her onto a pair of scales in one corner of the surgery.

“Stop struggling, cunt,” barked the man, cuffing her and sending her reeling against the wall. Dazed, she stood as still as she could on the scales. “115lbs,” he called out to Rick. He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back against a height scale on the wall. “5 feet four.”

The other man picked up a tape measure from the desk and pulled it around her chest, waist and hips. “34, 22, 32,” he called out to Rick. “Looks like a B cup to me.”

Rick was noting down the details as a blonde woman in a white coat came in. “Another one?” she asked. “Where’s the file?”

“Here you go, Doc” said Rick passing it to her. He gestured towards me. “This is …” he began.

“I know. Well don’t get in the way either of you.” She turned towards Jackie, “Put her on the couch,” she said and then walked across to stand beside her. “Now, young lady” she said quietly. “I need a blood sample and a urine sample. You can either help me or you can be difficult but you won’t like how I take the urine sample if it comes to that. OK?”

Jackie looked around at the two men, the doctor, Rick and myself. She nodded slowly and grunted an mmphed acceptance through the tape of her gag. The doctor rolled her onto her face and stuck a hypodermic into her arm, She drew off a sample of blood into a small tube. She tossed a stainless steel bedpan onto the couch alongside the girl. The two men knew the drill and lifted the helpless Jackie onto it. “Let’s have it,” said the doctor. Jackie whimpered and looked around again. The doctor slapped her. “Do it, or I’ll get a catheter,” she snarled.

Jackie whimpered again as the ringing sound of her pee hitting the steel of the pan confirmed her compliance. “Why the urine sample?” I asked.

“Pregnancy test,” the doctor replied as Jackie was pulled off from the pan. “We don’t get many but it complicates things if we don’t know early on.”  She reached for a small jar on her desk and pulled a pair of disposable rubber gloves from a box and wiped off Jackie with a wad of tissue. “On the other hand,” she went on, “you’d be surprised how often I find little trophies hidden in the most unusual places. Take her gag off.”

One of the men pulled the tape from her mouth, she cried out as the tape ripped away from her skin. He prised out the wad of sponge that had been filling her mouth. She barely had the chance to squeal before the doctor crammed a Whitehead gag into her mouth, ratcheting it open to force her jaws apart. Picking up a torch she peered into Jackie’s mouth, running her fingers inside. Apparently satisfied, she turned her attention elsewhere, pushing Jackie back onto the couch and plunging her fingers into the girl’s vagina. Jackie groaned as the doctor’s fingers probed inside her. The doctor ignored her complaints and rolled her over once again, this time probing with her fingers inside the girl’s anus. More gagged whimpers accompanied the doctor’s actions. The doctor stood up and snapped off her latex gloves. She turned to the two men. “Any sign of medication?”

“No, nothing we could see in her handbag,” one of them replied. “A half used pack of contraceptive pills and some headache tablets was all she had that looked medical.” 

“Fine,” she noted down some comments in the file and handed it back to Jackie’s guards. “I’ll add the test results later. You can put her back in the cells now.” Jackie was pulled from the couch and hustled away.

“Thanks, Doc,” Rick said. “That’ll do us for now, I think. You OK with that Larry?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, although it wasn’t clear how this was helping yet.

“OK,” said Rick, “let’s go look at Orientation and Despatch.”

Chapter 5: Well Begun Is Half Done

Rick showed me through the door marked “Orientation” into another featureless corridor.

“I’m not sure we really need a separate area for this,” he said. “We could just as easily do their training down in the reception block. Still we’ve got the space so I guess it doesn’t matter. Anyways, it’s just the basics they get put through here; learning to cope with simple commands, that sort of thing. Have a look at this one.” He pulled open one of the doors. “She’s been here a few days now. Just starting to get the hang of things, she is.”

Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room was a small cage, barely larger than the girl it contained. Inside it knelt a girl, blindfolded and naked, her wrists and ankles shackled to the bars of the cage that held her. It was only as she lifted her head in response to our arrival that I saw her collar and tag and the stewardess cap. I realised it was Rebecca and I saw at once from Rick’s grin that he knew who she was as well. “A friend of yours, Mr C tells me,” he said.

I nodded. Rebecca, confused and traumatised by her experiences, barely registered our presence. I looked at her feeling sympathetic in one sense but curiously detached in another. Only a week before we had been sharing a bed and yet now, somehow, it seemed quite reasonable to see her like this.

“They all spend some time caged, just to get the hang of what they can look forward too if they don’t behave,” said Rick, interrupting my thoughts. He swung the cage around. As he did so I could see that a pair of vibrators had been pushed into her and then fixed rigidly to the bars of the cage. He flicked a switch on the side of the cage and the vibrators sprang into life. As they did so Rebecca gave a soft groan and began to wriggle in time with the motorised thrusts. The cage swung right around. “No gag, you’ll notice,” Rick went on. “She’s learning to keep quiet. If she manages to take an hour or so of this without too much moaning she’ll be allowed out of the cage for a while.”

“Isn’t it, well, a bit brutal? I mean is it really necessary to treat them like this?”

“Nah. The way I see it, if we get them orientated properly they get an easier ride with their owners. We can’t change the fact that they’re going to be owned, but this way it should go better with them. By the time they leave here they’ve left their previous lives behind. They can cope with what comes next. I tell you, if your paths cross again she won’t even recognise you.”

“OK,” I said, “maybe I just haven’t got used to this business yet.”

“I know how it is. I was the same at first but there’s been a lot of thought put into this whole process. If you like I can have her put in a room for you afterwards. Nothing like getting close to the product for seeing the benefits of the system.”

I thought about it for a moment but shook my head. It didn’t seem like a great idea just then.

“Please yourself,” Rick said. “I might have a go myself, Clegg doesn’t mind if we take the odd hour off, providing it benefits some of our guest in one way or another. Anyway, that’s basically how we do it. Simple tasks with rewards to reinforce appropriate behaviour. Let’s have a look at the next one.”

We left Rebecca swinging in her cage trying to cope with her simple task of keeping quiet with the vibrators pulsing away in her pussy and her arse.

“Here’s an interesting one,” said Rick. He said opening the door to another cell where a naked, girl was kneeling, chained by her collar to a steel pillar in the centre of the room. “This one was a librarian,” he ushered me into the cell. “Turned out to be relatively sexually inexperienced when we interviewed her and while that’s attractive to some folk most buyers want some basic skills. We use this to train the ones that aren’t very capable at oral sex. Look at this.”

As we walked around the post I could see that her mouth was round a large artificial phallus that projected from the pillar. She was sucking at it enthusiastically. “Looks to me as if she’s learning what she needs to here,” I said.

“Yes,” said Rick. “And as long as she keeps that up she’ll be all right.” He saw my puzzled look. “Check out our little book worm’s titties,” he went on. She had clamps on her nipples which wasn’t unusual for the girls in the Prep Centre but from each ran a cable that disappeared into the pillar. Her pace slowed as she tired. Almost at once she squealed and bucked as an electric current shot down the cables. She set to again, using her mouth with renewed energy.

“And if she doesn’t there’s an electric shock to reminder her what she’s supposed to be doing? Ouch! How long does she have to keep that up?”

“She’ll do an hour today, a bit more tomorrow. We’ll increase the time and increase the voltage over a few days. She may not develop much technique but she’ll at least develop some stamina and it should cure some of her gag reflex.”

“How come?”

“There’s a sensor in the tip of the phallus. As long as she keeps it pressed against the back of her throat the shocks take a little longer to develop.”

“Impressive engineering,” I said.

“Well, that’s one of Freddie’s personal contributions. He’s good at that sort of thing. Seen enough of this?”

“Yes, sure,” I said. As we left the cell I heard the girl give another squeal and whimper.

“OK, here’s another of Freddie’s engineering solutions,” he opened another door. Inside four running machines were lined up facing the room’s one way mirror. On each a chained, corseted, girl was walking slowly and carefully. “This,” Rick said, “we’ve had to install because girl’s today just don’t know how to walk properly.”

“It’s not a problem I’ve really noticed myself,” I said.

“No, you wouldn’t, but it matters to our customers. Look what they’ve got on their feet.”

Each of the girls was wearing shoes or boots with extreme high heels. Two of them had on shoes with thick platform soles.

“Most of the girls we pick up spend most of their time slobbing around in jeans and wearing trainers. They just don’t know how to walk properly in heels and they’ll all need to do that when they come up for auction. We don’t want them falling off their shoes like Naomi Campbell do we? So we give them some acclimatisation here. They’ve rarely had any experience of being corseted either. That changes their whole posture so they need to get used to that too.”

“I presume they’re chained to those treadmills,” I said peering more closely. Every so often one of the girls would slow her pace and then give a gagged yelp before stepping out again.

“Uhhuh,” Rick responded. “And you’ll see that their tits are wired up just like the last girl.”

“OK. So how does that work?”

“Do you see -  at the back of each treadmill there’s a little black box on either side? That’s a photo-cell and lamp arrangement. If they slow down and get carried back by the belt they break the beam and zip.”

“Zip?”

“A quick shot of electricity through the tits gets them going again. They don’t have to be fast, they just have to keep up a steady pace. It seems to work.”

“Our Freddie is an ingenious soul.” We left the room as the girls walked on.

Rick showed the way to another room. It looked more like the bar of a comfortable hotel than a dungeon cell. Rick sat down on one of the deep padded armchairs. “Strictly speaking this is part of ‘Orientation’ but it’s also somewhere for us guys to take a bit of time off – we give the girls a chance to practice their service skills here. Do you fancy a drink?”

I nodded in acceptance. “Why not?” I said, “I’ve been in stranger looking bars than this.” To myself I thought, stranger looking maybe but probably not, actually, stranger. Remembering what Clegg’s club had been like in London, I hardly thought that this would be any less bizarre.

I wasn’t disappointed. Rick pressed a button. I response a door swung open and one of the girls teetered in on stilt high heels, evidently she had at least succeeded in completing that aspect of the training. In front of her she pushed a trolley containing an array of drinks and glasses. I guess “high fetish” would describe the look. Her head was encased in a skin tight hood of latex so thin that her features could be clearly made out beneath it, as could the fact that her mouth was filled with a jaw-breaking ball gag. Her head was held erect by a broad leather collar locked about her neck with her number tag tangling from it. Her breasts were bared, her only other garments, a waist cinching corset and a leather single sleeve binder that held her arms locked behind her back.

As she came up beside our couch I realised that she was pushing the trolley by means of a bar that was fastened to a dildo that was strapped into her, penetrating her vulva.

Another girl followed her into the room. Similarly dressed she also appeared to have a plank strapped to her back. It was only as she knelt in front of us that I realised it was her role to act as our drinks table. Rick picked a beer bottle and glass from the trolley and stood them on the table. “Help yourself,” he said waving to the trolley girl. I assumed he meant drink, although the girl’s reaction suggested that she was equally expecting me to take advantage of other services.

I restricted myself to joining Rick in a beer. He took a sip from his glass. “These two have been here a couple of week’s now,” he said. “They’re fairly docile. They’ve learnt to do as they are told, although this one,” he reached forward and pinched one of the trolley girl’s nipples, ”this one still thinks she can decide when she’s going to behave and when she isn’t. Don’t you?”

The girl shook her head slowly, the movement impeded by the rigid collar that she wore.

“Well, that is good news,” said Rick, smiling. “We’ll be able to get you helping with the training of the new girls, then.” The girl looked distressed, shaking her head again. Rick turned back to me. “You have to keep racheting things up. As soon as they think they’ve given in you find a new hurdle for them to jump over. That way you build up the submissive response over time. This one,” he pointed to the table, “is doing much better. She’s pretty well jumping through any hoops we put in front of her. We’ll move her on to her owner within a week.”

“She’s been bought then?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s not so common now. It used to be that almost all of them were picked up to order so they were bought before we’d grabbed them. Nowadays we’re auctioning more and more of them. That’s not so good - it’s never certain what you’ll get for them and the market’s been a bit flat lately.”

“How come you’re not grabbing so many to order?”

“I’m not sure why the commissions have dropped off. I guess there’s competitors out there offering better rates. Guys in the Sales Centre would have a better idea, I guess.”

I made a mental note to add that to my thinking on Clegg’s marketing problems. I needed to remind myself I was supposed to be working, though it was pretty difficult, supping beer in the company of two virtually naked women.

Rick downed the last of his beer. “Anyway, I was going to show you Despatch,” he announced, getting to his feet. “Fuck off, sluts,” he barked at the girls. The table shuffled slowly, away on all fours, taking care not to dislodge the empty bottles and glasses still balanced on her back. The trolley followed her, each step causing the dildo attached to the trolley handle to push into her cunt. The gag only served to make her muffled whimpers sound more plaintive.

“OK,” said Rick. “Let’s move on.” We stepped out of the room, back into the corridor and on into a loading dock. “Well,” he said, gesturing, “this is Despatch. We either ship direct to the customer or via the sales centre. Shipping to the Sales Centre is the easiest of course – it’s only about three hours from here by road so all we have to do is make sure the consignments are in here just before the trucks turn up and that they’re securely packed. ‘Ship to Customer’ is a bit more of a challenge. It’s usually overseas – airfreight mostly – and the flight times are often ten hours or more. We use standard airfreight containers like these – modified a bit. Here, I’ll show you – this one’s going out in about an hour.”

Rick pulled open the side panel of the container, inside there were two couches set side by side. On the nearer was strapped an almost naked, partly conscious girl. She turned her eyes slowly towards us as the panel opened, aware of the sudden bright light. Her mouth and nose were covered by an oxygen mask that was held in place by tape that seemed to cover most of the rest of her face. Her eyes flickered and she sank back into sleep.

“Drugged?” I asked.

“Uh huh,” responded Rick. “It’s the kindest way really. She’s almost unconscious, so it minimises the risk of her doing any harm to herself by struggling.” We walked over to the container. The girl couldn’t move; straps around her forehead, arms, chest, belly, thighs and ankles held her in place on the couch. I could see that when the side panel of the container was closed foam padding would restrict her even more. A breathing tube ran from the mask to gas bottles below her couch. A small gauge on the bottles showed they were 90% full. All the girl was wearing was a pair of padded pants. Rick saw me looking at them. “Well, she can’t get out of the hold to go use the washroom,” he said. “We keep them off liquids and use diuretics for a day before shipment and the drugs suppress the production of urine but there’s always a risk of spillage.”

“Where’s she going?”

“Err, not sure. Let’s see.” He reached across to the girl’s couch, in a pocket by the side was a folded document. He opened it out. “Shipment note,” he said, explaining. He read it. “Oh yeah, I remember this one. She was a bit unlucky.”

“Unlucky?”

“Yeah, We had a very nice snatch set up. We were picking up a student, Carol – degree in modern languages; very bright, doing post graduate studies in Russian. That’s very useful at the moment both from the point of view of new acquisitions and for some of our new customers too. So we monitor our little student’s house and get her pattern of movements. It’s the end of term so she’s not going to be missed for a few days at least, weeks maybe. We’ve got the whole thing set up. A little light jemmy work at the back of the house; get ourselves; set up wait for her to come home that evening; nice quick grab and bag and Robert is very much your father’s brother.”

“But it wasn’t as easy as you thought?”

“Well, yes and no. Getting in was no problem. The snatch team had no difficulties at all. Only problem is they’re just sorting out their stuff in the hall when they hear a voice from upstairs calling ‘Carol, is that you?’ and they realise that the brown smelly stuff is in the fan.”

“Ah, not your actual cunning linguist then?”         

“You catch on quickly my friend, no, not our linguist at all. Anyway the lads are crouched under the stairs as our friend over there comes down stairs. She’s been in the shower; she’s wearing a towelling robe; she’s got a towel around her head and nothing else. The lads had no choice really, so when she gets to the bottom of the stairs they jump her. She puts up quite a fight – turns out later she trains at a gym – both the lads end up with bloody noses and one with a considerable pain in his crotch. However they manage to subdue her and strap her wrists with the belt from her robe. They weren’t too gentle but then having your balls kicked tends to cause your judgement to suffer. It definitely was not the girl they were looking for; the towel has come off her head and even the dimmest of our snatch teams can tell the difference between a blond and a brunette. The real target is not due home for another three hours and this one is busily trying to bite her way through the hand that’s keeping her quiet. Well to cut a long story short they find some stuff to gag her with – I think it was her face cloth and a pair of tights she had hanging on the bath rail – and hog tie her on her bed. Well, much as they might enjoy the prospect of a young lady trussed up wearing nothing but a bath robe, they at least know that they’ve got to sort things out. They make a couple of calls and we decide to bring both of them in. They make sure this young lady can’t wander off and wait for the real target to turn up.” 

“So Carol’s house guest gets to join her in an exciting new life.”

“Well, sort of. Having brought her in it turns out that the house guest here doesn’t really have much in the way of any specific skills we need, so we’ve just sold her on. Got a reasonable price which will cover the overheads but that’s about it. Anyway, the irony is that this one’s off to a little dacha near Kharkov, so she might end up learning some Russian a bit more quickly than her friend, though my guess is she won’t be reading Chekov or Turgenev.”

The girl slumped back in her couch, the effects of the drug overtaking her. Rick put the shipment note back in its pocket, lowered the panel of the container and fastened it.

“Do you get many problems like that? Unplanned stock?”

“Not as much as you’d think. The research is usually good enough. And usually we can off-load them. It just seems a bit unfair, somehow. I must be getting soft in my old age. Let’s have a look at this other one. She’ll be on this afternoon’s truck to the Sales Centre.” Rick pointed to a cable drum on the far side of the loading bay. We walked across.

After the relative comfort of the long haul container, the poor girl being shipped out to the Sales Centre was clearly going to have a more difficult ride. She obviously hadn’t had the benefit of any tranquilising drugs. As we approached the drum the distinctive sounds of complaint muffled by a mouth filling gag could be heard.  

Rick rolled the drum away from the wall. The grunts of complaint got louder. I had to admit the way that the cable drum was being used was ingenious. As Rick swung it around I could see that the girl had been strapped in place, face up, around the core of the drum. She was naked apart from the straps that held her tightly against the drum’s core. “Toss me those slats,” Rick called pointing to a pile of short pieces of wood. I passed them across to him one at a time as he fitted them inside the drum until they made a second outer core, completely enclosing the helpless girl and making her gagged grunts sound still quieter. “There we are,” said Rick, “a convenient package we can roll straight onto a truck.”

I realised there were four other drums on the loading dock. “Are all those the same?” I said pointing. I looked at the drums. On each was stencilled the words “FC Components Ltd. ‘Plug & Play’ Wiring Harness & Cables”.

“Yep,“  said Rick, “that’s the results of the last week’s orientation. They’ll be in the Sales Centre tonight. There’s an auction at the weekend and then they’ll be off to their new owners.

Chapter 11: Flying Home

I was sorry to say good bye to the island, Steve had been a good host and I’d learned a lot. Sukie had been agreeable company – I was partly sorry that I wouldn’t be abe to scrape together the asking price. Still there was work to do and so I was very pleased to have the offer of flight back in a private jet owned by one of Steve’s associates.

I’d imagined a Lear Jet or a Citation but when I turned up at the airport and found my way to the departure lounge I found we were boarding something the size of a Boeing 737. There was about a dozen of us in the lounge including, I noticed, the short sighted man from the Sales Centre that had bought Rebecca. He was talking to a tall, blonde woman. She wore a dark blue uniform suit and carried a peaked cap. Our pilot, I thought. She gave him a curt nod and headed off towards the plane.  

Boeing Business Jet, it said on the side of the ‘plane and while it might have looked like a pretty ordinary small-sized airliner on the outside, the inside was very different.

We were greeted at the doorway by a smartly dressed flight attendant and shown inside to something that looked more like a gentleman’s club than the usual seat warehouse. There were small clusters of seats, perhaps 20 in all, couches and tables, a large bar and plenty of space to walk around. I took an empty seat and sat back while the rest of my fellow passengers went through their rituals of stowing their bags and getting comfortable.

There were three flight attendants. I wasn’t entirely surprise to see that two of them were Rebecca and Amanda. Neither of them appeared to recognise me.

The girl who had welcomed us on board introduced herself as Elaine, our senior flight attendant, and began the usual safety demonstration. Rebecca was in the front part of the cabin pointing out the exits and doing her bit with the oxygen mask and the lifejacket. Just like on most business flights the passengers carried on reading newspapers or magazines or talking amongst themselves, paying scant attention to what was being said. As the safety demonstration came to a close, though I was suddenly conscious that the passengers were paying attention to what was being said, putting their papers down and stopping their own conversations.

Elaine was still talking from the front of the aircraft as we started to push back from the terminal. “Gentlemen, I hope you will join me in welcoming two new crew members today,” she said. “They are both having their first flight with us today, so I would like to introduce them, In the front cabin we have Rebecca and in the back cabin Amanda. Although they are new to us they are both experienced cabin crew and will be able to deliver our usual range of in-flight services. Rebecca and Amanda are joined by Brenda who some of you that have flown before with us will all ready know.”

That was nice, I thought, I’d never had Becky wait on me hand and foot in the air, or at home come to that.

“And of course gentlemen that includes the usual range of massages and sexual services. Please just ask your attendant for anything you require. Amanda, Becky, if you could show our guests what is available.” Rebecca appeared to hesitate for a moment. Elaine stared at her. “Please Rebecca, I think you know what to do.”

She turned back to face us, unbuttoned her dark blue jacket and removed it. The white shirt she wore beneath it was sheer and it was clear that beneath it she wore a quarter cup bra that forced her tits up, pushing her nipples against the tight sheer fabric of the blouse. She took off the blouse and put that with her jacket. Without pausing she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it revealing garter belt, stockings and a thong. She put the skirt with her other clothes and walked slowly up and down the aisle between the seats. I heard some approving grunts from my fellow passengers. She walked through into the rear cabin. Amanda, having stripped in the same way, came through to our cabin giving us all a good look at her talents. She returned the back and Rebecca rejoined us.

Elaine spoke again. “There we are gentlemen. Just press the call button by your seats for anything you require. Thank you girls.” Rebecca and Amanda put their clothes on again. The aircraft had reached the runway. “Flight attendants, seats for take off please,” she said. The girls strapped themselves in the jump seats just inside the cabin door and the ‘plane started down the runway with the usual combination of disconcerting thumps, bangs and roaring noises. Moments later we were airborne, wheels and flaps up, heading back towards Europe.

Most of my fellow passengers were busy on their lap tops by the time the plane levelled out. Rebecca and Amanda, jackets off, wandered through the cabin offering drinks. Nobody seemed keen to follow up on Elaine’s offer. I felt it was churlish not to; besides it was an opportunity to fulfil a long-held fantasy.

Rebecca placed the drink I’d asked for on the table beside me. I looked up at her. “You don’t remember me do you?” I asked as she stared blankly at me.

“No, Sir. Should I? This is my first flight. Have you flown with us before?”

“No, that’s all right. I thought I remembered you from before you worked here.”

“Oh, no, Sir. I’ve only worked for this airline.”

I wasn’t sure that I followed the logic but I could see that whatever had happened to her during her training had blotted out any memory of her previous life.

“That’s all right,” I said, “it must be my mistake.” I took a sip from my drink. “I heard that you are available to us during the flight. Is that right?”

Yes of course Sir. I can entertain you here in your seat or there is a bed in a cubicle towards the back of the ‘plane.”

“No. Go to the washroom but leave the door unlocked. You can entertain me in there.” There was a long time fantasy that I now had the chance to turn into reality.

“But Sir, surely the cubicle would be more comfortable.”

“Perhaps but I’d like to take you in the washroom, thank you.”

“Of course Sir, if that’s what you desire. I’ll just return this tray to the galley.”

I watched her arse as she walked back to the galley. She emerged a moment later and went to the washroom. I followed her in. It was fairly spacious compared with a regular flight but even so there wasn’t too much room. “Right,” I said pushing her back against the door and sliding the lock closed, “you’re going to get fucked.”

“Sir, there’s no need to force me. I’m expected to look after the passengers as I said.”

“No need perhaps, but maybe I like it that way. Give me your belt.”

“Very good sir,” she said, doing as she was ordered.

I wrapped the thin strap around her wrists and knotted it. I hoisted her hands over her head and tied them to the coat hook on the back of the washroom door. She gave a short, “Oh!”

I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and jammed them into her mouth. “Shut up, bitch,” I said as I pulled her blouse from her skirt and unbuttoned it. She squealed as I pinched and squeezed at her tits. I put my hand over her lips and she choked and coughed as it pushed the wad of towels deeper into her mouth.

I swung her around and dragged her skirt up over her hips. I pulled her pants down around her knees. Her arse was framed by her garter belt and stockings. I took her from behind, grunting as I pushed my cock inside her lifting her up on her toes as I pushed up under her. She whimpered into the paper gag as I came. It was great.

I pulled the gag from her mouth and let her wrists off the coat hook, she fell to her knees on the floor, sobbing. “Clean me up,” I ordered.

She looked up at me and composed herself. “Of course, Sir. I won’t be a moment.” She reached for my cock and took it in her mouth. Licking and sucking the cum from it. It didn’t take long before I was erect again but I knew from long experience that there wasn’t much point in her carrying on. She’d had as much of my juice as there was likely to be for a while.

“That’s enough,” I said pushing her back on her heels as I zipped my fly. I turned my back on her, left her on the floor of the washroom and returned to my seat. I wasn’t very proud of myself, I guess, but I had enjoyed it.

Rebecca followed me a little later, having dressed herself and reapplied her make up. She made her way between the seats again asking if the passengers wanted drinks. A fat, florid, red haired man a little way away from me started a conversation with her. She returned wearing her uniform jacket, hat and gloves.  Soon she was on her knees gobbling greedily at his cock, while the man toyed with her hair.

As she finished and got to her feet I pressed the call button. She looked up and walked slowly over to me. Her make up was messed again and there were splatters of the man’s cum on her blouse where it had dribbled from her chin. She seemed unconcerned. “Can I help you, Sir?” she asked.

“Another vodka when you have a minute, please,” I said.

“Of course, Sir, I’ll just be a minute if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” I said.

The short sighted man came through from the back of the ‘plane and sat down beside me. He held out his hand. “Narod Jesper,” he said by way of introduction. “I think these two are pretty good value, don’t you?” he said nodding towards Rebecca.

“It must have been handy for you to be able to get two fully trained cabin crew for this, Mr Jesper.”

“Cheaper than training them myself,” he chortled. “But that’s the great thing about auctions, you can pick up some real bargains. It’s a lot easier than recruiting them myself like I did with the other one - what’s her name? -  Brenda. Anyway, how’s your work for Clegg coming along?”

“Interesting.” I said. “I’m learning a lot and the benefits are good. Oh, thanks for the flight, by the way. And the in-flight services.”

“That’s OK, happy to do you the favour. I’d rented out some hold space to Freddie on this trip anyway. He had a couple of packages he needed back in the UK and its easier for him to use me than regular cargo flights if I’m coming across.”  

“Are all the passengers buyers?” I asked.

“I couldn’t possibly say,” Jesper replied, with a chuckle. “That would be most indiscrete. But if you were to see any of these people at one of Mr Clegg’s little events I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” I said, looking around, “I’d say the profile of people here is a bit different to the one’s I’ve seen at Freddie’s. There’s what, a third of them women? And a third under thirty?

“Yes, something like that. I’m afraid that the more mature buyer like myself will soon be in the minority.”

“I thought so,” I said. “Interesting.”

“I’m sure that I might be able to persuade one or other of them to chat if it would help your research. They’re often pleased to have a chance to sound off. Unless you’re planning to sleep off your bout of exercise?”

“No, not just yet. I’ll get some sleep later on but if you can introduce me I’d like to get another perspective.”

“OK, I’ll see what I can do.”

He headed off into the rear cabin. A few minutes later a rather dumpy woman put her head around the partition, obviously looking for someone. It turned out to be me. “You’d be Larry,” she said, sitting down heavily in the seat next to me. She held out a rather limp hand. “Daphne Challis,” she said in a quiet New England accent. “Our host said you’d like a chat.” She nodded towards the rear cabin.

“Did he say what about?” I looked at her. She was overweight and didn’t carry it well. She wore a rather muddy brown tweed jacket and skirt. Her greasy hair hung lankly to her shoulders. She was sucking on the stub of an unlit cigar. I guessed it was some consolation on a 6 hour non-smoking flight. She reached up and pressed the call button.

“Uh, yes,” she said. Rebecca appeared in response to the call. “Gin and tonic for me,” she said. “Anything for you?” I shook my head. “And some nuts or crisps, snacks.” She turned back towards me as Rebecca left us. “I guess I don’t look like your idea of a lady slave owner.”

I shrugged my shoulders. Actually, she didn’t look my idea of a lady anything.

“Well, whatever. It wasn’t what I thought I was going to do either. I just needed some help around the house and a friend suggested they could get me some that would very attentive help. Turned out it involved owning rather than hiring. I was happy with that; too much legislation over employees these days. I guess I’m a fairly typical buyer that way, I have three or four at any one time. Trade them in when I get bored or they prove unsuitable.”

Rebecca returned with Daphne’s drink and snacks on a tray. She picked up the glass and grabbed greedily at the nuts and biscuits with her other hand. Rebecca went to leave. “No, wait,” said Daphne, putting her drink back on the tray and grabbing another handful of nuts. Rebecca stood patiently by.

“Are these males or females,” I asked. I hadn’t seen Clegg dealing in male slaves but I guessed that it was possible, if there was a market.

“I’d intended men originally,” she said. “and that would have been really easy. Just advertise yourself as some dominatrix and they line up. And pay you for it too!” She looked disgusted and crammed some more nuts in. “I tried a couple. Hopeless. They just need too much attention. I haven’t got the time. And besides I decided I quite liked a little female company. This one,” she took a sip from her drink and pointed to Rebecca, “is a real treasure, isn’t she?” I watched as Daphne’s free hand pushed up under Rebecca’s skirt and started fondling her arse. Rebecca’s nipples stiffened visibly under her blouse. “I like them like this,” she said. “Good tits, nice arse. I keep my house slaves corseted and bare breasted, they need to look good.” Her hand came out from Rebecca’s skirt to grab some more nuts.

Maybe they need to look good, I thought, but I didn’t think I‘d like to see her naked with the rate she was going through the snacks. “So, have you bought any from Clegg?”

“No,” she said. “It’s all a bit of a boy’s club isn’t it? Well, old man’s club really, no disrespect. Just a bit behind the times the way they do things. I spend my time making money or enjoying it, I haven’t got time to waste going off to his auctions. There’s easier and better ways to get hold of what I need. Mind you I like Brits as slaves, they seem to have the whole behaving respectfully thing down to a fine art. Clegg’s got a good reputation for British merchandise. If I really wanted a British item specifically then maybe it’d be worth the trouble.”

“So no one from there has ever talked to you about the things they can do?”

“No, I can’t say they have. I mean I know Clegg’s got some good snatch teams and some good intelligence gathering too by all accounts but they’ve never approached me that I remember.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. “That’s a help.”

“That’s OK. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get a bit of sleep before we reach the other end.” With that she got to her feet, brushing the crumbs she had dropped into her lap down onto the floor. She looked at the debris and then at Rebecca. “You’d better clean that up, girl.”

“Of, course, Ma’am,” Rebecca responded respectfully, “I’ll do it straight away.”

“Good,” Daphne responded, “and when you’ve done come back to my seat.  I’ve thought of something that will help me get off to sleep.” Rebecca disappeared. “Daphne turned for the after cabin. “Call me sometime if you start doing anything interesting. Clegg’s got my number.” She picked up her gin, drained the last drop, pulled the slice of lemon from the glass and sucked it clean. “You never know, we might be able to do some business.”

As she went back to her seat the third stewardess appeared beside my seat. I looked up at her, “Brenda Alexander”, her badge said.

“Hi,” she said in a warm Texan drawl. “I just wanted to make sure you were enjoying the flight, Sir. And to see if there was anything more that I or the other girls could do for you.”

I decided to take advantage of the fact that I hardly felt like sleeping. “Yes,” I said there is. “Come and talk to me for a moment.”

Brenda looked surprised by the suggestion.

“Have a seat,” I said.

“I’m not really supposed to sit down with the passengers, Sir,” she replied. “I could kneel here if that would be alright.”  I nodded and she did so.

“I know how Rebecca and Amanda came to be here,” I said. “How about you? Were you bought at auction like them? Tell me.”

The short sighted man was passing my seat. Brenda looked up at him, concerned. “That’s all right, Brenda, tell him anything he wants to know. And if there’s anything else he wants, see to that too. You know the rules.”

“Yes, of course, Sir,” she said. He nodded and went on forward. She folded her hands in her lap and began. “Well, it seems a silly story, really. I don’t know there is much to tell. I was working for another airline, mainly short haul flights around the south western USA, and I saw an advert for a start-up business charter airline with the opportunity to do some long haul trips too. It seemed like the opportunity to get in at the start of something so I applied.”

“Go on,” I said.

“Well, I very nearly didn’t get to the interview. It was in a hotel on the airfield I was flying into and I’d arranged to go straight over to the hotel when I landed. Anyway there was a flight delay, air traffic control problems, we were an hour late in landing. I tried ringing the number they had given me as soon as I got down but couldn’t get through. I thought I’d missed my chance. I practically ran through the terminal building and across the car park lot. I was still in my uniform, I’d intended to change but I just didn’t have the time.”

“OK,” I said. “Look while you tell me this, open your blouse. I got a good look at Rebecca and Amanda at the start of the flight but you must have been in the rear cabin.

“I was looking after Mr Jesper,” she said, apparently embarrassed but starting to unfasten her blouse nevertheless. I had a good idea of what ‘looking after Mr Jesper’ would mean. She looked up at me as she finished opening her blouse. I nodded approvingly at the sight of her tits. “Should I unfasten my bra as well, Sir?” she asked.

“Yes please, Brenda, that would be excellent. Then put your hands behind your back, please.” I watched as she did so and then urged her to continue with her tale.

“Well I got to the suite they were using for interviews. There was a receptionist that tried to fob me off, that they’d finished, and they had already offered the job to someone. But I wasn’t going to be put off. I pushed by and into the suite of rooms they were using for interviews. The first two rooms were empty and then I burst into the third room. There were two men in there. I’d obviously startled them, they turned round suddenly. I saw there was a girl slumped in the chair beside them. It was Elaine although I didn’t know her then of course. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid looking back. Is she alright, I said, I’ve had first aid training. Can I help? I was just so keen to help I didn’t think what might have happened. Anyway the first man said that she’d suddenly fainted or something and could I do anything. I bent over the girl and went to check her breathing. I heard the two men say something. I’m not sure what but now I realise they were agreeing to take me as well. Then I felt a sharp pain in my backside and everything went black.”

“I see,” I was pleased by her frankness. I reached out for one of her nipples and squeezed it. She gave a short gasp but didn’t pull away. “Go on.”

“Well when I woke up I couldn’t move. They’d tied the two of us up. We were laying back to back, my hands were tied in front of Elaine’s waist, hers in front of mine, They’d roped our ankles together as well. My mouth was stuffed full of something and all I could do was grunt and whimper, whatever they’d used it was tied into my mouth with a rope that went around Elaine’s mouth as well, whenever I tried to move my head, the back of her head banged against mine.. I caught sight of the two of us in a mirror on the far side of the room. They’d strapped tape across my mouth too. The two of us were wriggling and struggling but it didn’t do too much good. Then the two men and the receptionist came back in. They were arguing about me. The receptionist was furious, she was saying that they were only supposed to collect one and that the whole expensive exercise was in danger of being a complete shambles. The man bent down beside me and pulled my skirt up. Look at the legs, he said. Too good to let those go. The other man bent down beside me and tugged at my shirt. Nice tits too, he said. come on she’s worth bringing along too. The receptionist seemed to relent and said that it would probably be all right but that she’d have to clear it. The men said if she didn’t want me they’d find a way of making use of me. I can’t remember when I’ve been so scared. Anyway…”

She was about to continue when Elaine, the senior stewardess appeared. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Sir,” she said. “But Mr Jesper  said when you have finished with Brenda he’d like to see her in the cubicle.”

Brenda looked uncomfortable. “I really should go,” she said.

“That’s all right,” I said. “I can hardly deny the owner his pleasures.”

“Thank you, Sir,” said Elaine. “Can I get you one of the other girls?”

“No,” I said, “that’s fine.”  I watched as Elaine helped Brenda to her feet. She made no attempt to button her blouse. Elaine reached up to the overhead locker and pulled out a seat belt demonstration strap. She pulled it around Brenda’s neck and used it to lead the girl as if on a leash towards the back of the plane.

Whatever else I had learned on this trip it was clear that Jesper had got a bargain from the auction – Rebecca and Amanda had to have been cheaper for him than commissioning a pick up like the one he’d used for Brenda and Elaine. I was beginning to feel that Freddie was being taken advantage of and I couldn’t imagine that he would be pleased by the idea.

Chapter 14: I Spice With My Little Eyes

I’d arranged to meet up with the Kalinin and his son in the conference room at the Prep Centre. I got there a little early and bumped into Harry as I walked in. “How’s your new PA,” I asked. “Has she worked out what’s going on yet?”

“Oh, I think so,” said Harry. “In fact I was just about to pop in to see her, if you wanted to have a look.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, “I’ve got a while and I haven’t really seen too much of the Prep Centre side of things.”

“She’s in here,” said Harry unlocking a door.

Sarah was curled up on the floor in one corner of the cell, chained by her neck collar to a ring in the wall. She looked up with a scowl as we came in.

“She seems to have lost some of her sunny disposition,” I said.

“I don’t want to see you. Go away. I’ve got nothing to say. Leave me alone why don’t you?” Sarah said.

Harry looked disappointed. He unlocked a small cabinet to one side of the room. I saw it contained an array of straps, chains, and flogger. Harry took a ball gag from the cabinet and advanced on Sarah with it. “This conversation is going to be a little one sided, I’d like you to listen and not interrupt,”

“I won’t be gagged, I won’t, I won’t,” she shook her head as Harry went towards her. He ignored her objections and grabbed a hank of her red hair and twisted. As she yelped in pain he pushed the ball in place, jerked the strap tight and clicked the locking catch shut. He let go her hair and she sank back down on her heels, reaching up to tug ineffectually at the strap that held the gag in place. She gave a muffled groan of frustration.

“There,” said Harry. “Now perhaps you’ll listen. You’ve had an easy ride of it here, so far.” A muffled grunt of disbelief answered him. “Because you aren’t being sold, or at least you’re not being sold yet, you’ve not been raped and you’ve barely been beaten except when you’ve been particularly difficult. All that is because I am keen for you to take up the role for which I originally interviewed you. Now it seems to me you have a choice at this point. Either you can accept my job offer,” Sarah grunted and shook her head. “As I was saying, either you can accept my job offer or we can put you into the pool of girls for resale.” This time she shook her head vigorously. “I can offer you a situation in which you will remain here and be treated well. I am sure you can imagine how it will be if you are sold – I cannot be responsible for where you will end up and to what use you might be put. I am sure that your talent for dancing will attract a certain sort of buyer but apart from that who knows.” Sarah gave a whimper of despair. “Now, I’m going to give you one last chance to decide.”

As he said this another girl appeared carrying a tray containing a heap of ropes of different thicknesses. “We have a buyer coming to our next auction who is particularly interested to acquire a red headed slave for his collection: he’s particularly keen on elaborate bondage and he’s asked for a few pictures of potential acquisitions. We’ll give you a chance to show if you’re suited to this sort of thing.” He turned to the girl with the ropes. “See what you can do with her,” he said. “She should be fairly supple, most dancers are. Don’t hold back - I know our prospective buyer won’t.”

I left Sarah, Harry and the girl to go in search of the Kalinin.

The Kalinin and his son were sitting on the couch in our conference room. Clegg had come in with them as well. “I am surprised that you have solved this problem so quickly,” the Kalinin said.

“Well, your highness, I’ll wait until you have seen what I propose before making any claim,” I replied. Clegg smiled. “I’d like to show you a short video and then we can discuss next steps, if that is acceptable.”

“Video?” queried the Kalinin.

“Yes, your highness. I wanted to make sure we were going down the right track.”

“Very well,” he answered, “continue.”

I pressed the button the closed the conference room curtains and dimmed the lights. The video projector flickered and burst into life with the Clegg Enterprises logo. Out of the speakers came the sound of U2’s “Even Better Than The Real Thing…”  It faded down and the video began with All Spice hammering out “Say You’ll Be There”. Close ups of the five girls were inter-cut with black and white photos of the real Spice Girls as they were then and as they are now. It was interesting watching the Kalinin’s son – he’d obviously never thought about the fact that the pictures of the chicks he’d been beating off to were all taken seven years ago. He was definitely attracted by the idea of All Spice who look more like what he’d been getting off on than the girls who were in the real band do now. Plus the All Spice ‘Ginger’ was in her more pneumatic style which also got approval. The U2 track faded up again. Next up was a Nicola Roberts look-alike that we found. She’s got a pretty good voice too and if anything her hair was redder than the real Nicola’s – least ways that’s how it looked in the video. Same went for the ‘Nicole Kidman’ who thought we were looking for a stand in for some advertising work. I could see that the son was getting pretty keen. The U2 track faded down. The video moved on to a series of short clips from some recruitment auditions. The girls had thought we were setting up for the opening of a new Hooters in London. Each had a girl sitting in as chair saying, “Hi, I’m Jo (or Jenny, or Marcy or whatever) and I really want to be a Hooters Girl. Pick me, why don’t you?” Then she pulls off her top, gives the camera a good shot of her boobs, pulls on a Hooters t-shirt, steps out of their skirt or jeans and into a pair of the famous orange shorts before walking up and down to show how the outfit looks on them. There were six of them all well stacked, of course, and blondes or redheads.

By the end of it the Kalinin’s son was practically dribbling. The Kalinin beamed with approval at me. He turned to the distracted youth. “Well, my son, he said. It is traditional for your father to provide the first women for your harem. You can make your choice from those.”

“Choose, father?” the son responded. “I do not need to choose, I shall be able to satisfy them all.” I was pleased by the son’s response, reckoning the value of an order for thirteen pickups.

His father, however, was less than happy. “Son,” he said, a harem is like a garden. You should not plant all the beds at once. At first it is best to begin with a plot that can be easily cultivated, then as experience grows, it is possible to tend a larger area. I suggest that you start with three.”

“But father, your own harem in Kushtia had over fifteen wives.”

“Yes, son, but that took me many years.”

“But father, ..” the son began.

“I wonder if I might suggest a compromise,” I said, concerned that the entire exercise was about to dissolve into a family argument.

The Kalinin held up his hand to silence his son. “Please do,” he said.

“Perhaps if we were to proceed initially by acquiring the group All Spice for your son. It seems that, although they are five, they will be easily managed as they are used to being together Because of their youth they will soon become adapted to your son and his ways. From our side it would be very difficult to acquire less than the entire group and it hardly seems sensible to split up the set once acquired. I would think, also that the group provides a good selection of women as a starting point for a harem with a range of different looks and characters. It will provide the Prince with a good selection of types with which to develop his skills and tastes further.”

The son looked sceptical at the reduction in his ambitions as did the father, concerned at this increase in his planned commitment. “Five is still more than I had considered,” he said.

The Prince however, evidently saw that this was as good a deal as he was likely to get. “Oh father, please,” he said. “They will look well together in the harem dress. The one called Posh has a haughty look that I long to tame. Emma has a sweetness that will be so good to corrupt. The two Melanies will be a source of constant amusement.”

”And I think your highness,” I interjected, “that Geri will prove a satisfying acquisition as well. As far as we can tell both the hair colour and the figure are genuine and un-enhanced.”

“You see father,” the Prince went on, “a good investment. A good starting point for me.”

The Kalinin appeared to soften. “Very well,” he said. “How can I deny my eldest boy?” He turned to me. “It seems we are agreed on your proposal,” he said. “You will arrange their collection?” 

“Of course, your highness,” I replied, thinking that I’d keep the rest for another occasion.

“Good,” he said. “That seems to resolve things. I shall tell Clegg that I am pleased by your approach. I am sure we shall do more business in future.”

It had been a successful session. I went to tell Harry that we needed to get started on the arrangements. I found him back in Sarah’s cell. The bondage that Sarah had been put in was evidently agonising, her gagged grunts of complaint from earlier had been replace by an almost continuous muffled wail of pain. She was swinging suspended from the ceiling of the cell, her elbows dragged together behind her back and her ankles doubled up behind her back. Coarse ropes criss-crossed her tits, and pulled across her crotch. Thin ropes stretched from each of her big toes to rings on the wall so that the slightest swinging motion threatened to dislocate them. The ball gag had been replaced by a gag of knotted rope that was linked back to her elbow tie and her ankles, bending her head backwards.

Harry turned to the girl that had put Sarah into her predicament. “Have you got all the photographs you need?”

“Yes,” she said. “I think she’ll be quite good for this if you do decide to let her go.”

“Thanks,” said Harry. “we’ll have to see if she’s decided that this is her sort of thing or not. Now, Sarah.” She gave a groan of despair. He picked a cane from the toy cupboard and ran it along her thigh. “Now, it seems to me you have a simple choice. Come and do the job I asked you to do or take the chance of something like this.” Another, more pleading, groan came from the suspended girl. “Would you like this to stop?” A slight nod of the head set her swinging, the cords pulling at her toes, causing another squeal of pain. “Good,” said Harry. “I can make it stop if you’re ready to do as I ask. Can I assume you are?” Another nod, another squeal of pain. ”Excellent, I am pleased. You know what they say - one volunteer is worth ten pressed men.” Harry turned to the girl. “Cut her down,” he said. The girl looked disappointed. “There will be plenty of others don’t worry and this one will be back if she doesn’t continue to comply.”

Sarah was lowered to the ground slowly, the ropes removed from her toes, elbows and ankles. The knotted rope gag was removed, leaving the corners of her mouth sore and bleeding. She curled up in a sobbing heap at Harry’s feet.

“Now,” Harry said to the girl. “You can start earning your way out of here. Keep on being obedient and you can earn some clothes, when you’re fully dressed you can start work. You’ll be out of the cells and you’ll only have me to answer to. Do you understand?” Sarah nodded. “Every time one of the guards thinks you’re not being obedient enough you’ll be stripped naked and have to start again. Understand?” Another nod. “It’s up to you how long it takes.” He turned to the girl that had trussed Sarah so viciously. He passed her the cane “Give her twenty stokes with this every evening that she remains in here,” he said. Sara whimpered. “But give her some stockings and a garter belt. I thinks she’s earned those this afternoon.”

Harry smiled as we left the cell. “I think she’ll come around to my way of seeing things,” he said. “Now, what do you want to set up for the Kalinin.

We talked through my ideas about All Spice and then Harry suggested we went down to the canteen for some lunch.

It was pretty crowded by the time we got there but we managed to find a table. We’d been there about five minutes when two heavily built men in the uniform black tee-shirts that all the guards wore wandered up.

“Mind if we join you?” the taller of the two said.

“Sure,” said Harry. “There’s not much space in here today.”

“Can’t think why,” said the other, “when you look at what they’re serving. Harry, you really ought to try and pick up someone that can cook for in here.”

Harry grinned and prodded his lunch with his fork. “It’s a thought,” he said.

The first man said, “Hey, you two guys picked up the busty blonde piece that was snatched with the redhead, didn’t you? You’re going to love this.”

“Uhhuh, what was her name, Julia – Jules,” said Harry, “Is she giving you some grief?”

“Nah. She’s in the block I’m looking after and she’s been average cooperative up until now. This morning she starts coming on to me, when I take her gag off. ‘Why don’t I be nice to you,’ she goes. ‘Sure you could fuck me, like you get to fuck all the girls but wouldn’t it be nice to have some fun where I’m joining in?’ And she’s pushing her tits at me and licking her lips.”

“Even Jack here got the point,” his friend said.

“Well I think her idea sounds like fun, I mean when you get to rape women anytime you choose you think maybe there’s something a bit kinky about her joining in, you know. She says that it’s part of a deal, she’ll give me a real good time if I help her get out. I think the first bit sounds good - let’s worry about the second bit after. She turns out to be rather a good screw. Very bouncy, if you know what I mean, given the limits of those beds in the cells.”

“Yeah, Harry, can you do anything about that?”

“Not my area, really,” said Harry, “I don’t run the Prep Centre, better talk to Rick.” He took another mouthful of food. “So then what?”

“Well she says how are we going to organise the escape? I tell her we’ll use one of the transport trunks. I get it down from despatch and bring it into the cell, tell her to hide inside it.”

“And strap her in because of course she might bounce around otherwise,” Jack’s pal interrupts with a grin.

“Then I tell her that I’m going to smuggle her out but it will take a while and she’s got to be real quiet. I shut the trunk and left her for about half an hour then wheeled it around the Prep Centre a couple of times, put her on a truck and drove her around the site for a while. She’s in the trunk on the truck in the delivery bay right now.”

“Ain’t that a gas! She’s going to be spitting pins when we get her out of that trunk,” Jack’s friend laughed.

“This I want to see,” said Harry. “How about you, Larry?”

I nodded. We all finished up our lunch and Jack led the way down to the delivery bay. Jules’s case was sitting there just as he’d said. He leant down beside it and said quietly, “Hey babe, we’re here. Not far now.” There was a squeak from inside the trunk as he pulled it back on its wheels and pushed it towards the cell that Julia had left only a couple of hours before.

With the trunk back in Julia’s cell. Jack bent down again beside it. “How you doing babe?” he asked.

“I’m real stiff,” she called out from inside the trunk. “These straps are too tight and I can’t move at all in here. Are we there yet?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jack, “hang on, I’ll open the trunk.” He laid it down so that Julia was on her back, bringing another squeal from inside the trunk. He fumbled noisily with the locks on the lid. As he lifted it open, Julia realised that she and Jack were not alone.

“Hello,” said Harry. “I really don’t think you should be trying this sort of thing.”

Julia was struggling against her straps and suggesting that Jack was in the business of having carnal knowledge of his maternal parent.

Harry went on, “You’ve really got to get used to the idea” – he picked up the dog tag she wore attached to her collar – “06/085, that you’ll get on better here if you do as we wish. Now since you were so keen to get into that trunk you can stay there for a couple of days. Spend a bit of time thinking about things. You’re not going to get away. I think you’d be better off coming to terms with that.”    

Chapter 15: Spice Racked

About a week later I needed to check the final arrangements for the All Spice collection with Harry. When I called him, Sarah answered. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised but I hadn’t realised that she would be out of orientation that quickly. She set up the meeting efficiently. I could see that Harry hadn’t only been interested in her for her physical attributes.

When I got to Harry’s office, I saw Sarah for the first time since she’d been cowering at Harry’s feet after being released from an extreme bondage session. She had evidently come through her orientation without her cheery approach being affected. She looked up from filing her nails as I walked in. “Good morning Mr Ross,” she said with a smile as I walked in “He won’t keep you a moment, please take a seat.”

I did so. Sarah went back to her manicure. Harry obviously favoured a traditional look around the office. Sarah was still wearing her wavy red hair loose. She had on a white high necked blouse but I could see the line of her slave collar beneath it. Harry obviously had her wearing a padded bra, she’d certainly filled out since I‘d last seen her and there hadn’t been time for surgery – I guessed Harry had that planned in her future. I still really didn’t understand what they did in Orientation but Sarah certainly seemed to have been trained quite quickly and she seemed as willing to please now as she had been when I‘d seen her at interview.

“Can I get you a coffee or something Mr Ross?” she asked brightly.

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “How are you settling in?”

“Oh, OK,” she said. “I mean I know I was a bit silly at the interview and everything. Well, how stupid can someone be? Going off and buying the things their kidnapper needs to kidnap them!”

“Harry’s very plausible,” I said sympathetically.

“I know. I felt bad about it at first but then I got to see some of the snatch reports from the teams and there are plenty of brighter people than me get trapped in fairly silly ways. Lawyers, doctors, all sorts. And I mean actually it’s quite a good job. I know he just wanted to pick someone up and I can’t say I enjoyed the kidnapping bit and all the training and the rest but actually the job is all right. And Harry really needs someone to help him keep the office in order – there’s so much to do around here. Do you think I’m doing all right?”

“I’m sure you’re doing fine,” I said. “Harry would soon let you know if you weren’t.”

“Well, I like to do a good job, even if he did grab me like some piece of meat.”

A buzzer went off on Sarah’s desk and she got to her feet. As she came around the end of the desk I saw that at least Harry hadn’t changed her taste in skirts – if anything the navy blue skirt she was wearing was shorter and tighter than the one I had seen barely covering her backside as she struggled in the back of the van – and the heels she was wearing were higher than you’d usually expect in any normal office. She turned to open Harry’s office door, giving me a glimpse of stocking through the short slit at the back of her skirt. The day was getting better by the minute.

Harry got up from behind his desk and waved me in. “Thank you, Sarah,” he said. “Come on in Larry.” The day carried on getting better, Tricia was in his office too. She gave me a welcoming, “Hi”.

Sarah showed me through the door. “Can I get anything?” she asked.

“Now,” joked Harry, “the last time you asked Larry and me that, I seem to remember you ended up going shopping for ropes and tape.”

“Yes,” said Sarah, good humouredly, “and I never got my expenses paid either.”

“Ah,” said Harry, “where were the receipts? Can’t pay out expenses without receipts. Ask any of the team.”

“Oh, well,” giggled Sarah, “It could have been worse. You might have wanted handcuffs, a ball gag and a hood from a fetish shop. I’d have probably got those too.”

Harry smiled and waved her out. Turning back to me he said, “I asked Tricia to join us. You said you wanted to set these girls up in a recording studio? Tricia used to do a bit of studio work. She can drive a desk; give it all a bit of authenticity.”

“Great,” I said. “It’ll be fun. Have you done much operational stuff since our little burglary outing?”

“Oh sure,” she said, “Harry doesn’t let you sit around once you’ve shown you can do it. This one looks a bit different though.”

“Well, I guess so,” I said. “Let me fill you in on the plan…”

I’d just about got to the end of it when Clegg put his head around the door. Tricia seemed to sense that Freddie wanted a private chat, got up and excused herself to go. Freddie didn’t stop her.

“That your new secretary?” Freddie asked, nodding towards the door. “Very nice girl. Bubbly personality. And that hair colour looks real too.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “She was a find.”

Freddie barely paused. “Oh, by the way Harry, she’ll have to go, you know.”

“What?” said Harry. “She’s only just started.”

“Come on if you’re in the meat products business you can’t keep the prime cuts for yourself. With legs like that and that red hair you know we’ll get a terrific price. And Brian’s numbers don’t look too good this month – he needs something to boost his margins and he’s got some Balkan buyers in the auction in a couple of weeks, they just love redheads. She needs to go in the sale with the other one you picked up at the same time.”

Harry tried to protest, saying that Sarah had only just finished her training and she’d not really been broken properly for re-sale. Freddie was adamant. “Sorry, Harry, if you want to recruit a PA you’d better find something that’s not so saleable or get Brian to fix his revenue stream” he said. “Call her in and tell her. I’ll do it if you’re not happy with it.”

Harry looked glum but gave in. “OK, Freddie, I’ll do it to help out the numbers, but Brian needs to lift his game.” He reached across and pressed the intercom buzzer. “Sarah, in here, please, now.”

Sarah appeared at the door of the office and seemed to sense at once that all was not well. “Is there a problem,” she said. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing you’ve done Sarah. However, you know how it is with slaves, we buy and sell them. I’ve been discussing your future with Mr Clegg here and we’ve agreed that the best option for you is to put you on sale at one of our next auctions.”

“Oh, but, don’t you need someone to go on doing the work I’m doing now? I mean I know I haven’t fully got to grips with all of it yet but I thought I was doing everything you wanted.”

“It’s all right, Sarah, you’ve been doing fine,” Harry was reassuring. “It’s just that we’ve had a change of plans.”

“I’ll take her back to the orientation area to finish her training,” said Freddie. “You’d better come with me, Sarah.”

“Oh, all right,” said Sarah. “She held out her arms. “Don’t you want to chain my wrists?” she asked. “They always kept me chained up when I was down there before. And gagged. I had to wear a gag. Is there one in here? I could get a scarf or something if you wanted.”

“Don’t worry, Sarah,” said Harry gently. “They’ll sort you out when you get down there.”

“Well, I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said.

Harry and I watched as Freddie led Sarah away.

“Bugger,” said Harry. “She was shaping up nicely.”

“I tell you what, Harry, I might be able to do you a favour. I going to need someone to do some work on a video I’m organising. I’ll try and get Sarah assigned to it. If Clegg agrees then maybe she’ll miss this sale and you can get another go at putting her back in the office if Brian’s numbers pick up. I reckon I owe you a favour.”

“That would be a help, Larry,” Harry said. “Do what you can.”

I wasn’t sure how I would persuade Freddie but that could come later. “How did Jules shape up?” I asked, changing the subject.

Larry had still looked glum but he brightened up at a little. “Well, she does seem to be seeing sense now. No more crazy escape attempts at any rate – she could hardly move for a day after we got her out of the trunk. Two days in one of those without the relaxants aren’t anyone’s idea of fun. I think she knows she’s not going to escape and that there’s no knight in shining armour going to come galloping over the hill. Jack said she was asking what she needed to do to get best billing at the auction next week. She even spent time trying to persuade Brian to spice up her entry in the sale catalogue. Brian was pretty pleased; he doesn’t get the stock coming on to him too often. And she really did seem to do all she could to promote her very considerable assets. Brian seems to think she might help the numbers too.” 

“Interesting,” I said. “Brian obviously needs something to help things out. Still, I’d better get on with our little project.” I punched ‘Victoria’s’ number into my mobile. Her answer phone cut in; “Hi, I’m not around right now but if you leave the usual details I’ll get back to you.”

The phone bleeped, I spoke in response, “Hi, Vicky, it’s Larry. Just to let you know my client liked your audition tape. Can you give me a call?”

It was only about five minutes later that she called back. “Hi,” she said, “sorry I missed your call. I was a bit busy.”

“All Spice work or Mistress P work?” I asked.

I heard her giggle. “The latter,” she said. There was a pause. “Hang on.” She’d obviously put her hand over the microphone, her voice sounded muffled but I could still hear her. “Back on your knees, you!” she barked, “I didn’t say you could get up.”  She came back to the phone. “Sorry about that,” she said.

“That’s OK,” I replied, “I guess it’s not very convenient right now.”

“No that’s fine. You said your client liked the tape.”

“Yes, he’s really keen. He’d just like to hear a couple of extra tracks of your own stuff.”

“Wow, that’s great!”

“Yeah, can you get the girls back together? I’ve got another studio we can use. And can you all wear your stage costumes? I’d like to get a few publicity shots at the same time.”

“Absolutely!” Vicky was evidently pleased. “Where’s the studio?”

I gave her the details of a converted warehouse in the East End and a time for them all to turn up the following day. Harry’s team didn’t need much time to get things set up and all was ready as I greeted Vicky and the others outside the studio that afternoon.

They’d gone to town on their costumes: all of them were in different black outfits. “I like the look,” I said welcoming the girls. “Cover of Rolling Stone, July ’97, unless I’m mistaken.”

“Wow, you are a fan,” Posh said. “What do you think?”

What I said was, “Like I said, I like the look.” What I thought was; it was going to be a close call which of them the Kalinin’s son found sexier; ‘Emma’ in her short skirt and basque, ‘Scary’ in leather bra and trousers, ‘Posh’ in her short, slit skirt and bikini top; not to mention the outfits that Geri and Sporty were wearing. I guessed that Ginger’s hair would take priority, though.

‘Sporty’ handed over a bag of mini-disks. “Backing tracks,” she said, “your engineer will want them. Let’s get started.”

I was as keen as the girls. Tricia and another of Harry’s snatch team were with me in the control room. All Spice piled into the small studio booth. They pulled on headphones and plugged themselves in. ‘Emma’ called across to us, “We’ll do the track on the green disk first if that’s OK.”

Tricia held up the disk, ‘Emma’ nodded and she plugged it into the console. A thumping bass line spilled out of the monitors. She leant forward, hit stop and the music died away. “I’ll cue that for you,” she said, “three … two … one.” The music started again and the girls joined in. Emma started a solo part, with the two Mel’s backing her up.

They were sounding as good as they looked. It was almost a shame to hit the button that fired the gas canister.

As they reached the chorus the gas began to seep into the booth. Emma, stretching for the high notes sucked it in quickly. She gave a puzzled look and slid slowly to her knees. Ginger and Sporty went forward to catch her and caught the gas too, following her to the floor of the booth. Scary and Victoria spun around and tried to open the door of the booth but found it locked. They started to hammer on the glass, coughing and choking as they took in the gas, clawing at the glass of the booth in an attempt to escape. Moments later they succumbed as the others had and slid to the floor

We gave it a few moments for the gas to disperse. As we opened the door to the recording booth, the unconscious form of Vicky slumped through it, down onto the floor of the studio, lying face up with a frozen, startled look on her face, her headphones clutched in her hand. The snatch team went to work quickly, taping the girl’s wrists and ankles, gagging them and blindfolding them too. Each of them was folded up into their own personal transport box. Emma and Vicky the two smallest into double bass cases; the others into boxes that looked from the outside like music amps. “We’ll get them back to the Prep Centre and see if they go up to 11,” said Harry’s man with a laugh as he and Tricia wheeled them out to the truck waiting outside.

“See you around,” said Tricia with a smile and a wave.

Chapter 16: A Call From The Kalinin

I was up in the Sales Centre watching another auction. Some of the women that had taken longer in orientation were now ready for market. Brian was convinced that prices were starting to rise. I still wasn’t convinced. I looked around the room; it didn’t look like there were too many buyers to me.

I saw that the first lot onto the platform was to be Julia. I’d seen her, after she’d got over the punishments for her escape attempt, being trained to play her part in the auction. Brian was evidently keen to show that he could drive up the prices by getting the girls to pitch themselves better. This time he’d set up a big video projection screen at the back of the stage.

I watched from the side of the platform as she came on stage, teetering in high heels, bottom swaying in a very short tight skirt and her ample tits straining to burst out of a crisply starched white blouse. With a brown manila folder in her hand, her long hair pulled tight back from her face into a pony tail and a pair of glasses perched on her nose she looked the archetypal secretary.

A murmur ran around the buyers. It was as much, I thought, surprise at the fact that, while she wore the collar that marked her out as sale stock, she was neither shackled nor gagged. I guess it could have been appreciation.

“Welcome lot number 06/086,” Brian said in an oily tone. “I understand that you wish to apply for the job of personal secretary to one of our audience today. I see that you’ve brought you application folder.”

“That’s right, Sir,” Julia responded. “I’d make a very good, very personal, secretary.”

“Well, please take a seat. And face the camera, won’t you? I’d like everyone to be able to see exactly what you have to offer.”

Julia sat herself down on a high stool in the centre of the stage. The screen flickered into life and her face was projected up on it. The image was six feet high or more, you could almost see the individual grains of mascara on her eye lashes as she batted them at the camera. She crossed her legs and then gave a giggle as she tugged ineffectually at the hem of her skirt in an attempt to keep it some sort of order. I could see some of the buyers in the audience leaning forward with interest.

“Now,” said Brian, beginning what was evidently a pre-rehearsed interview, “I’m sure you like to tell us about your capabilities. Your office skills and so forth. What are you like behind a desk?”

“I’m very efficient, Sir, always happy to put in long hours and make sure my boss is happy,” she smiled directly at the camera.

“And how about on top of one?”

Julia appeared embarrassed, “Well Sir, I am sure that I have never had any complaints in that direction either.”

“How about your typing skills?”  

“I’m quite proficient.”

“And you find you can manage to see the key board underneath those tits of yours?”

“Really, Sir. I’m not sure that’s the sort of question I anticipated at this interview.” Her prim response was greeted with a quiet ripple of laughter form the audience.

“You understand I must have the answers to these questions though,” Brian said sternly. “Now let’s talk about time management. Very important for a secretary you’ll agree?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well perhaps you’d tell me how much of your working week you routinely spend fucking with your boss.”

“Goodness. What sort of question is that?” Jules appeared to become flustered. She fanned herself with her application form. She licked her lips as the camera zooms in on her mouth and reached behind her head to free her hair from its pony tail. She shook it loose. A vaguely appreciative grunt could be heard from the audience. I had the impression that while they were amused by the display, some of them felt it was all going on a bit too long. Julia looked up at the camera and gave it a knowing smile. “Well,” she said, “I’ve never refused if my boss asked me to take a few things down.”

Brian continued with his patter. “I see,” he said. “And the quality of your work?”

Well,” Julia said, “of course I make mistakes the same as anyone else. But I’ve always felt that the best policy is to make a clean breast of it.” With that she quickly unbuttoned her blouse and her bra and took both of them off, continuing to sit perched on the stool with her tits naked for the whole audience to see. There were some grunts of approval and a few coughs. The bidders were clearly appreciative but somehow it all seemed to have fallen a bit flat, though you could hardly say that for Julia’s chest.

“There you are gentlemen,” Brian concluded. “Let’s hear your bids for this piece. Can I suggest $80,000?” The room fell quiet. No one responded. “$70,000 then? $60?”

“40,” came a call from one side of the room.

“45,” responded another. The room was quiet again.

“Surely we can do better than that?” Brian chided. “Excellent secretarial skills and other useful attributes as you’ve heard. Any more? Is that really all?” He looked almost irritated with the bidders sitting in the hall. I could see that they didn’t like that. “Very well then. At $45,000 – it’s you sir, in the corner. No more? At $45,000 then. For the final time. $45,000 in the room. Sold!” He brought his gavel down with an abrupt tap. 

Jules looked disappointed as two guards came on to remove her from the platform. Brian did nothing to hide his sense that she hadn’t reached her potential price. Julia looked upset and confused as she was hustled from the stage. The audience simply returned to studying their sales catalogues. “Funny idea, that,” I overheard one of them saying to a colleague. “I mean quite amusing and all but it didn’t seem to have much to do with why we are all here.”

Immediately after Julia came Caroline, the girl I had seen being abducted on video when I’d first visited the Prep Centre. “Lot number 05/209,” called Brian to the audience. He seemed to sense their impatience and was now trying move things ahead. “I have several commission bids for this lot….”  I looked at the catalogue. Sarah wasn’t on the list. Brian had been adamant that she’d have to be fully prepped before he’d even thing of including her. I think Freddie thought he was being a bit ungrateful given that he’d just been trying to help him out. I wasn’t bothered; it just gave me a bit more time to think of an excuse to hang on to her for Harry. 

All Spice had been through Orientation swiftly. The Kalinin had asked us to “leave the rough edges on, that way my son will learn the quicker what it is to manage his wives”. Rick had shipped them up to the Kalinin after only five days. A week later I picked up a call from the Kalinin on my mobile. “Mr Lawrence,” he said. “I wanted to tell you how pleased I was with the merchandise that you supplied recently. It certainly conforms to my expectations.”

I made some remark about being pleased to have been able to help and hoping that his son was pleased. The Kalinin enthused some more and then went on, “I think I mentioned that I had some other business that I thought you might be able to help me with. I was wondering if you could stop by at a convenient point. Give my PA a call, Clegg’s got her number.”

I called Clegg. “I thought you’d like to know the Kalinin of Kushtia wants to talk about some further acquisitions.”

“Good,” said Clegg, briskly. “Maybe your ideas are working out.” He gave me the number I wanted. “Those five singers were a good piece of work,” he said. “The snatch squad said it all went very smoothly.”

“Well, the Kalinin says he is pleased anyway.”

“Yes, he called me. His little lad is happy as a pig in shit and the Kalinin reckons he’ll be so busy with the five of them that he won’t have time for some of his other, more expensive, hobbies. Oh, by the way,” I knew now that these throw away lines from Clegg were usually anything but, ”how’s the video coming on?”

‘The video’ was intended to give Clegg’s clients a briefing on our new direction. “We start scripting next week.”

“So, not actually started yet?”

“Well sort of. We know who the script writer will be at least. In fact I’m just going over to sort out a meeting with her now. Just to make sure that she gets her mind around the idea of working for us.”

“Ah,” said Clegg, perceptively. “Not actually a willing participant.”

“Not entirely, no. Well, not at all.” I said, thinking of the pick up we had planned.

“Good, good. I can’t stand the idea of paying writers. Sounds like you’re on the right track. Keep me up to date, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. Then remembering I’d agreed to try to keep Sarah out of the auction catalogue, I thought I’d broach the subject with Clegg. “Oh, one other thing, I need a red head for the video, I think. Can I use the one you saw in Harry’s office? It would just save picking up another one. I don’t want to increase stock for the sake of it.”

“No, fair enough,” said Clegg. “It might be worth hanging on to her anyway if the Kalinin’s son has a taste for that sort of thing and Brian’s not getting such good prices at the moment. You’d better have her earning her keep, though. She might as well go back to Harry’s office, if he still needs someone.”

“Fine,” I said. Harry would be happy that we wouldn’t have to let Sarah go for a while at least.  

I called the Kalinin from the cab as I headed up to Euston for the train north and the meeting with our script writer. The Kalinin’s PA suggested we got together on the Friday. That was fine by me. She gave me a location in North Wales. For the time being I had other things to do, I had a writer to recruit. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

From one of the organisation’s white vans, I watched the video feed from the flat. It was great the way that the snatch teams could get surveillance stuff in place now. I could tell Rachel Kernow was thrilled. For the first time in her life, she was thinking, there was a chance that she would get some recognition for what she did. Actually she probably felt it was really recognition just to be nominated. “Best TV or Video Script by a New Author”; even being on the list was a step in the right direction. And you could see that she really thought she had a chance of winning and even if she seemed determined to have a fantastic evening.

She looked in the mirror checking out the dress and the shoes that I reckoned must have cost her a small fortune. You could guess that she was saying to herself, “Hey, a girl has to make an effort, and that’s not a bad effort. Not Scarlett Johansson, maybe, but pretty good nonetheless.” She smoothed the purple silk of the long gown down over her hips, happy that it made the best of her figure. The matching purple long evening gloves that she wore as well added to the elegance of the outfit.

It was then that her door bell rang. She opened it to a woman in a chauffeur’s uniform. It was Tricia. The chauffeuse tipped her cap. “Miss Kernow?” she asked. “It’s your car. For the ceremony.”

“Terrific,” said Rachel. “I’ve been expecting you. I’ll just get my bag.”  She snatched up her evening bag, checked that it held the essentials – a credit card, the notes for her acceptance speech, and a handkerchief to blot away any tear of delight or, perish the thought, disappointment, and followed the chauffeuse out of her flat.

I was watching outside as she got into the limo. The car was enormous, big and white with blacked out windows. “Is this all for me?” she giggled as her driver held open the door and she slid onto the vast leather covered back seat

I guessed that by now Tricia was into her routine, “It should have been Miss Kernow, but I have to pick up another passenger if that’s all right. There was a problem with one of the other cars.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Rachel would be saying, “No problem at all.” All the research said she was a helpful sort of girl.

“Good,” Tricia would reply. “Please help yourself to a drink, there’s some champagne in the bar cabinet to your right.” I watched as she stepped around to the driver’s seat and got in. The car pulled away. I followed in my own car as the limo meandered through the suburbs, heading towards town. It pulled off of the main road and onto a small housing estate. The car stopped. Tricia, the chauffeuse, got out of the car.

I imagined Rachel in the back of the limo, sipping some more champagne and watching as she walked up the drive. I was watching myself. “That’s quite a kinky uniform,” I thought, “boots, tight trousers, buttons, cap and gloves. Those boots look a bit tight though from the way she’s walking.”

The reason for Tricia’s tight boots was helplessly struggling in the boot of the limousine. Eileen Donald, the real driver of the car had been ready to leave for the evening’s work when she opened the door to the garage to find herself staring at a determined looking woman, pointing a gun directly at her. Forced to strip to her underwear at gun point, Eileen had been pushed down on the floor of the garage while the woman wound tape around her wrists and ankles. The woman had wasted little effort in securing her captive but in moments she was helpless and could only look on as the woman pulled on the shirt, tie, trousers, jacket, cap and gloves that Eileen had just taken off. And the boots – the only problem was they were half a size too small.

Eileen had been bouncing around in the boot of the limousine. Well bouncing probably wasn’t the word – the rest of the limo may have been enormous but the boot was tiny, she was wedged in. Now she would be aware that they had stopped. No doubt she was listening for what would happen next.

I watched as the new passenger, sharply dressed in a black velvet trouser suit, joined Rachel in the back of the limousine and the car moved off. Tricia told me how it went afterwards.

“Hi,” said Rachel and introduced herself, “I’m Rachel. What award are you up for? Have some champagne.”

The newcomer smiled and took a glass from Rachel. “Hi,” she said. “I’m up for the ‘Best Author of a True Crime’ award.”

“Scary stuff,” said Rachel, “what sort of thing?”

“Well,” she said, reaching into the black velvet bag she was carrying, “it’s a bit of a coincidence, really. It’s all about a girl that is kidnapped on her way to a book award ceremony.”

“What?” said Rachel. “That’s silly … Oh!” She found herself staring at a gun in her companion’s hand.

“Please don’t make a fuss,” the woman with the gun said. “Just put that glass down.”

Rachel did as she was told. “Why are you doing this? Is it to stop me getting to the award ceremony? Who has paid you to do this? It’s ridiculous.”

“Do be quiet, Miss Kernow,” the woman was reaching into her bag again. “Please put this in your mouth and fasten it tightly behind your head.” She passed Rachel a bright red ball threaded on a leather strap. Rachel complied, choking as she pushed the ball into place and staring, wide-eyed, back at the gun. “Very good,” said the woman.

“GMmng,” whimpered Rachel in response as the car drove on.

“And now chain your wrists behind your back with these please.” She passed Rachel a pair of handcuffs. Even through her gloves, the steel of the handcuffs felt cold and hard about her wrists as they locked in place. The woman put down her gun.

Their driver called back, “You two all right back there?”

“Hmmmmph,” grunted Rachel.

“Yes, all under control,” said the other woman. “Just one more thing.” She took the black velvet bag that had held the gun, gag and cuffs. “While I’m sure you are interested in where we are going, I think you’ll understand why we’re not keen for you to see,” she said, pulling the bag over Rachel’s head and drawing the neck of the bag tight around her throat.

Rachel, blinded by the bag, gagged and cuffed, could do nothing as the car sped through the night.

I was already at the safe house when the limo arrived and watched as Rachel was pulled out of the car with the bag still over her head. Tricia went to the back of the car and pulled Eileen out of the boot. The two of them were struggling against their captors. Eileen looked the worse for her experience, streaked with grease from where she had been forced to the floor of the garage. She had cut her head in the back of the car in her efforts to escape. Tricia ignored her efforts to break free for a while but finally lost patience and slapped her face with a leather gloved hand. “Stop struggling or there will be more of that,” she warned. She hustled her captive away.

I was pleased with Rachel what I could see of her. We’d picked her for her writing skills but I’d thought when we’d looked at the surveillance material that she’d be easy on the eye as well and the evidence so far confirmed that. Of course I couldn’t see her face but her figure looked pretty good in the dress she was wearing and the view of her legs through the slit in her skirt wasn’t bad either. “Take her through,” I said. “I’ll have a chat with her.”

They put Rachel in one of the rooms that opened off the basement garage. By the time I got there she had already been sitting in the room for half an hour or so, tied to a solid wooden chair. She was still blinded by the bag but she turned her head towards me as I opened the door. She started struggling and grunting into her gag, I assumed to demonstrate that she wasn’t happy with how she had been treated.

I pulled the bag from her head and she blinked in the unaccustomed light. I checked her handcuffs. Her gloves looked creased from where she had obviously tried to free herself but it didn’t look like she was having any success. I unfastened the strap of the gag and eased the ball from her mouth. She coughed and groaned. “Please, why are you doing this?”

“You’re going to work for me,” I said. “I need a script written.”

“You must be joking,” Rachel responded. “You don’t have to kidnap writers. You just hire them. Anyway, I’ll be missed. Have you any idea how many people there were going to be at that awards ceremony? Don’t you think they’ll have noticed that I didn’t turn up? They’ll be looking for me.”

“Oh, you’ve been missed all right. The White Head people were very disappointed that you weren’t there to collect your award. You did win, by the way.”

“Bastard!” Rachel spat. Pulling against the ropes that held her to the chair.

“I think the press will have a real field-day with the story. ‘Award Winning Writer Vanishes’ something like that – lots of coverage along the lines of ‘Was the pressure all too much? Has Rachel Kernow followed in the footsteps of Agatha Christie, disappearing in response to the strain?’ Actually my money’s on a story headlined ‘Winning Author Skips Awards With Gay Lover’ or something similar.”

“What?” Rachel said. “What sort of stupid nonsense is that?”

“The sort that the newspapers will cook up when they find the passionate letters between you and Eileen Donald.” I had to confess I was enjoying myself.

“Who the hell is Eileen Donald?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, you didn’t meet. Eileen was the driver that was supposed to pick you up but got picked up herself instead. Look, don’t worry. All you need to know is that no one is coming looking for you so it’s probably easier if you go along with what we want.”

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“No, but for a writer you’re certainly working your way through the clichés. Why don’t you try ‘you’ll never get away with this’?” Rachel simply glowered back at me. I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with her until she’d spent a little time in Orientation. There wasn’t any point in trying to rush things. I gave a sigh and jammed the ball gag back in her mouth. She wriggled and grunted as I tightened the strap. The snatch team came back in. “She doesn’t want to play,” I said. “Ship her up to the Prep Centre and I’ll talk to her again in a few days.”

Rachel’s chauffeuse smiled, “Can we play with her? My partner’s driving the next bit and I do like a girl in evening dress.”  Rachel looked even more distressed as the girl eased the strap of her gown off one shoulder. Rachel looked across at me with wide, pleading eyes.

“Sure, I said. Normal rules apply.” I turned back to Rachel. “Best get used to it,” I said. “You’ll do what we want in the end.” She shook her head vigorously and the snatch team laughed. I was quite surprised at myself. It was proving easier to be a villain than I’d thought.

Chapter 18: Rachel’s Readiness

I got back from Wales the following day and went to meet with Rachel, my script writer, at the Prep Centre.

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.