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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
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
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.
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