Life Sentence Ch. 01byMVPrimetime©
Four times a year The Committee arranges a Meeting. It is always somewhere out of the way, but near enough to an international airport. Attendance is by invitation only, and to be invited for the first time you have to be nominated and vouched for by two established regular guests, and vetted by very thorough private security agents.
Those who do get invited are often informally referred to as Gentlemen and Players. Players are professional traders. Gentlemen are end users, who may occasionally swap or trade among themselves, or pass items on to the wider Trade, but generally do not source merchandise directly and almost never in bulk.
The Meetings themselves are usually organized in premises suitable for Players' areas and the Gentlemen's Club. Of course Players may relax in the club, and do business there, but only the highest quality merchandise and individual trades are brought to the quiet, six star world of the Gentlemen. Bulk sales and less precious and rare items are traded in the bustle of the Players bourse, which some Gentlemen choose to visit, bargain hunting, or disposing of old stock, or just enjoying the sights and smells and sounds of a busy market.
It goes without saying that all this is done in secret. All deals are on trust, one's word is one's bond. Cases of cash do change hands, but more often it is a business card with nothing but a bank account number and a note of an amount. Everyone knows what will happen if that trust or secrecy is broken. At the very least the person will never receive another Invitation. At worst...
There is a third class of attendee at Meetings. I was one of those. I 'represented' a Gentleman. Reps were not uncommon, since anonymity was often desired, and we were treated by the Club staff almost as well as the billionaires who we stood in for would have been, but we had a different status with the Players. They understood that we might occasionally enjoy the goods, but that we were buying with a less passionate commitment. More business and less emotion, so Reps did not take it personally if they failed to win an auction.
So there I was, in the Club foyer, sharing a bottle of Cristal with an Italian motor manufacturing heir, when one of the Players stopped to say hello as he was passing. "James old man," he drawled in an entirely authentic Etonian accent "I just saw one of your old castoffs in the bargain bin."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Down at Trader Nick's, I spotted your marks, among several others. Looks like an old model, that or she has been driven hard, but definitely got the trefoil. Thought you might like to know, maybe check her out, if you are nostalgic. Or maybe not - always sad to see them after all the wear and tear."
I thanked him for letting me know, but made no plan to go and look. My employer would not be interested in second hand goods that he had already sold off once, and I was busy with plenty of new items to inspect.
However, two days later I remembered the conversation when I happened to glance at an auction in progress in the main market, and saw it was Nikolas Oleavich at the lecturn, and there on display was lot 43, complete with trefoil and half a dozen other trade marks.
At first I did not recognise her. Then it clicked. I even knew her name. She had been on holiday from England at the Jamaica Beach Club. The boss had picked her out, romanced her, seduced her, then shared her with his friends, had her tatooed, passed her to me to pimp out for him with his high roller client's and then six months to the day from when he first took her virginity, he sent her with me to a Meeting. I had passed her on in a private sale in the Club. And there on her ankle was the black flower mark of Hollywood Joe.
Where had she been since, I wondered, and what had happened to her. As Nicholas ordered her to turn and raise her arms I got some clues. The dolphin on her pelvic bone, suggested some time as an inhouse escort for one of the disrete hotels near Miami. There were the signs from a very upmarket whorehouse in Chicago (stars on her left breast) and another well reputed brothel in Detroit (Cherries on a heart) on her thigh. But there were less savoury tags that I knew as well: an Antlantic City parlour and show house that was known for some extreme sex displays had left a cursive "Dirty Dolls" name tag across her lower back, and a London gang tat just above it (probably a drug deal part payment - the Devil's are not major players, but they like to have a few girls on hand to entertain the troops and bigger customers) as well as a New York gang mark (smoking skull on her shoulder) suggested a steep downturn in the social status of her clientele. There were other marks I did not recognise: from less well known, even further downmarket owners. There was a tribal style design around her right nipple (both nipples pierced, I noticed, as well as a navel ring, multiple earrings and, when Nicolas told her to display it, a piercing in her clitoris). On her shaven pubic mound was a crude tatoo of a sun, and there was a daisy on the back of her hand. The Playboy bunny head on her stomach was less crude, but clearly not a licensed or approved use of the logo; I strongly suspected it was from a Tiajuana fleshpit that specialised in shows for tourists that instantly would be closed down by the vets in any state across the border.
Having been in the business for twenty years now I have seen some things that shocked me in the early years, and thought I had seen it all, but I was not prepared for what happened next. At a word from Nikolas this girl dully turned and bent over, and pulling her buttocks apart, displayed her clearly gaping and ruined anus to the crowd. It was obviously an action she was used to doing. Adding to the horror, this movement at the same time exposed scars of the branding iron used by a Haitian dealer known for his brutality (he was never invited to Meetings after a nasty incident in Minsk, although his rep still attended) and his particular cruelty to women paler skinned than himself.
In my mind's eye I compared the beautiful, lively girl I had helped my boss to seduce, and then traded into a velvet cage in California, to this dull-witted scarred and broken creature. It was only three or four years. She was perhaps 21 or 22 years old now, and her breasts were stretched and a little sagging, her nipples distended, her body scarred from beating, whip marks and other cuts. She had at least a dozen owners in that time, each no doubt less caring than the last, and who knew what diseases, drugs and perversions she had been exposed to.
Nikolas made her stand up again and face the crowd. It was clear that there was little interest. He sought $100.00 as an opening bid, dropped to $50.00, and then threw up his hands, saying "Any offer, anyone?"
Another Russian Player, rumoured to make extreme sadism films and worse, broke the embarrassing quiet with a drawled "One dollar."
"Five." the word was out of my mouth before I could think.
"Any advance on five? No? Sold."
What the hell had I done?
I went to the desk beside the dias to register the sale. I told the clerk to record it in my own name and dropped a bill on the table. He looked at me quizzically for a moment and I thought he was going to object, since I did not have a licence from the Committee to trade in my own name, but he let it pass. He knew that I knew the rules.
Trader Nick's man supplied full paperwork for the girl, and agreed to have her delivered to my suite at the club. I left the auction, and headed for a nearby coffee stall, grabbing an espresso and settling down to read.
It was the usual documentation: a medical report, and bill of sale, including detailed description of her many identifying marks and supposed talents and experience. It also gave a name, which was not the one I had thought of. The papers said 'Denise' but I had thought it should be Penny.
The doctor's report was a little comforting, as well as a little disturbing. She was not now suffering from or carrying any infectious illness, although she bore scars and antibodies that betrayed several previous infections, as well as physical abuse and probably exposure to drugs and alcohol in immoderate quantities. She also seemed to be either brain damaged or so severely traumatised that she had lost the power of speech, but she was completely biddable and co-operative.
Just what I was going to do with her was quite beyond me.
When I got back to the club that evening I had almost forgotten she would be there. I had spent the afternoon negotiating an exchange of four of my boss's current stock (all well trained and enthusiastic) for six new girls.
My boss likes to corrupt innocents. The final act is to have the girl sold into service to another person, usually a Gentleman with refined and often exotic tastes. This deal was peculiar in that I had been sent to negotiate a bulk sale to a Player, but the Player wanted the girls to help recruit and train more girls, and to work as very high end escorts in Moscow. The boss liked the idea, and had left it up to me to choose the new girls. I had examined two dozen raw recruits from eastern europe, selecting those who fitted my bosses catholic but specific tastes. Now they were safely signed over, and transport arrange. I had intended to ring the boss as soon as I got to my suite, but found myself confronted with a naked, tatooed, branded, sour-smelling woman kneeling in the middle of the reception room floor.
She was a sad contrast to the smooth limbed fresh beauties I had just been viewing. I walked over to her and gently lifted her chin. I was sure now that she was the English tourist we had got in Kingston. "Penny? Is your name Penny?"
A little life came into her eyes, although it was mixed with fear.
"Okay," I said gently but firmly "I want you to go into the bathroom and have a shower. Wash your hair at least three times, and condition it, and scrub everywhere else. Clean nails, clean teeth, clean between your toes, everywhere. Then come out when you are dried off. I'll order food. Now go on, go and get clean. "
She nodded, and rose and went into the bathroom. There seemed to be a little more life in her, perhaps some hope. More hope than I had. I put a quick call in to room-service and then composed myself.
I rang the boss.
I told him the good news, which pleased him, and then I told him about the girl. He was silent for a moment then wearily said "God dammit Micky, what were you thinking? You know the rules. You are not a Player, you are not a Gentleman, you cannot trade in your own name."
"I know, it was stupid, but I felt sorry for her."
"Don't give me any soppy garbage Mick, I will hate to have to fire you. Okay, I might be able to get you out of this. First call the trader you got her from and get him to change the sale to my name. Tell him you made a cock-up, and that I want to offload the girl. You will give him a grand for his inconvenience if he will have her collected tonight. Then call The Secretary. Confess all. Tell him that I am furious with you and that I am recalling you, which is true. I will be calling the Secretary in half an hour. With any luck I can smooth it over. If not you may be barred, I will need a new Rep, and you will be looking for a new job."
"I don't really want to return the girl to Nick. She will probably end up in one of Pushkin's snuff flicks. "
The boss sounded incredulous "Have you lost your mind? Whatever happens to her is none of your business."
"You haven't seen her Boss," I said, "She has had a real hard time, she needs a break."
The boss rarely swore at me. He did so now. "For fuck's sake Micky what do you expect? You think I should be running a retirement home for broken down hookers? I don't give a fuck if she ends up in a donkey show in Morroco or getting gangbanged by bored soldiers in the Congo. And neither should you. Those are the breaks kid. Now do as I say, because as far as I can see you have only two other options and neither are good."
"What are they?" I asked.
"Call The Secretary and say you want to register as a Player. They will want a two million cash deposit and will probably want to see you trade the girl on immediately, so they can assure themselves that you are not going soft and becoming a security risk. Or they might reject you, confiscate the girl and if you are lucky ban you from future Meetings. If you are unlucky then... Well you know the rules."
"The other option is to run, with or without her. I would give you about a one per cent chance on that, since I will be ringing The Secretary myself in a few minutes to make sure you have contacted his office. If you haven't they will be after you. And you know they won't stop."
I knew what that meant. Rule number one: the circle is closed.
"Okay," I countered "How about this. I ring the Secretary, confess all and say you have decided to keep the girl - she could be useful as an object lesson to the others. Also you will make her my responsibility - to teach me a lesson. You obviously think that in six months I will be glad to get rid of her. So punish me by humouring me."
The boss was silent for a moment and then laughed richly. "Michael, be careful what you wish for, and all that. The Secretary will probably be amused. Tell you what, I will ring. You stay in your room until I call you back. And remember, all her costs come out of your pocket. Any trouble she causes is your trouble. You understand me?"
"Yes, Boss. "
He put the phone down and I took a deep breath. I sat on the bed and listened as the shower stopped and the girl moved around in the bathroom. I heard the door open, and her take a few steps into the bedroom. Just at that moment room-service arrived. I had them leave the tray, and saw them out, before calling the girl in to eat. She came into the lounge naked and dry, and made no attempt to cover herself, although she was clearly nervous of me.
I gestured at the food and told her to help herself. She took a plate and knelt on the floor to eat from it, all the time looking down.
I took a plate and sat in a chair infront of her, looking her over as I talked to her. I don't really remember what I said, but she made almost no response in any case. When she finished her meal I suggested she could have dessert, and asked her to bring me one from the tray. She did so, kneeling before me to present the bowl.
The phone rang at that moment and I answered it immediately. It was the boss. He was laughing. "You are off the hook, boy. But right back on it. You can keep the job, keep representing me and keep breathing, but you have to keep the girl. Forever. Every time you go to a Meeting she has to be with you. At any time, any place you go a Committee member can demand you present the girl for inspection within the hour. So you will have to take her with you wherever you go. And you have to bring her to the Red Room tonight, and at least once every Meeting. Be there within an hour or all bets are off. "
The Red Room was a special part of the Gentlemen's Club, not open to Players or Reps without invitation. It was ruled by the Mistress Rouge, who could in theory order anyone in the room to do anything to anyone else for the entertainment of all. Gentlemen of an exhibitionist bent would take girls there to show off their latest prize, or display one they wanted to sell.
I rang reception and asked for a ladies clothier to bring a selection of lingerie and cocktail dresses, and poured myself a glass of Chablis. The girl was kneeling passively, and I sat in the chair before her and asked her to look up at me.
"We have been ordered to go to the Red Room this evening. We are no doubt going to be part of the entertainment. They will order us to do things, probably just to strip and have sex, but maybe other stuff. If we do not do it, I am pretty sure we will be killed. Probably in a slow, painful and humiliating way. Do you understand? Whatever you are told to do, do it. Whatever I am told to do, I have to do. Ok?"
After a long moment she nodded. I looked at her and tried to read her mind, seeing a little fear and puzzlement in her eyes.
"They may be in a cruel mood. They may ask you to do dreadful things to me, or tell me to do bad things to you. I am sorry. But I am sure that the man who wanted to buy you would have done much worse. It will be ok."
Five hours later we got back to the room. She could barely walk, I was somewhat better off.
She had looked almost presentable in clothes, but the audience quickly realised that this was a girl who had been abused before, and so they had no qualms in making outrageous requests, which Madame Rouge amplified and twisted even further.
They called for me to use her in every orifice, and she submitted to every demand. Other Members joined in, or sent their girls to take part. It was the first time I had ever seen a girl fisted, although I suspect not the first time Penny had been done that way. She was triple teamed, had various toys and objects inserted, deep throated until she gagged, and made to rim several people, including me and Madame. Fortunately she was not flogged or beaten. I found it hard to watch and hard to do some of the things required. She simply complied. In the end the crowd got bored by her lack of response, and my flagging stamina. Their attention shifted to another girl. I felt very sorry for her. After the extremes that the crowd worked up to on Penny, their new victim was plunged into even greater degradation.
In my room I helped Penny shower and took her to bed. She did not cry, or speak, and her glance was not reproachful, but she relaxed only after I rolled away from her to sleep.
In the morning I was woken by her giving me a blow-job. She was rather good at it.
It took me a while to realise where I was and who was sucking me off, as I only slowly remembered the night before and who it was beneath the sheets licking my balls. I almost sat up with a jerk of surprise, but forced myself to relax and think.
If I stopped her what message would that give? I wanted her to recover some independent personality, not to be a dumb slave, but I needed her to do as she was told. If she did not she would get us both killed. And if she was willing to suck my cock and play with my ass, and rim me without being asked or told...
Maybe the deal was not so bad after all.
Over the next six months I had cause to change my opinion several times. Back in California I paid for surgery to repair some of the damage done to her ass and pussy, and to remove some of the tattoos and repair her scars. A good regime of exercise and healthy eating, hygiene and relaxation with massage and plenty of magazines and books to read and dvds to watch seemed to help, although her mental condition was the most difficult thing to deal with.
She was mostly withdrawn and absent, running on cruise control. She seemed less fearful, or at least less often seemed scared, but she barely spoke. It was two months before she said anything- a whispered "yes". Four months on she would use a word or two every few days, but never when asked or prompted, ordered or threatened.
She continued to be compliant in all things and spontaneously engaged in sexual activity, especially first thing in the morning. Then the Boss told me he was sending me to the next Meeting.
We had missed one, as the Boss had nothing to trade, but now some of the Slav girls and a couple of Tex-Mex honeys were up for disposal. He wanted something exotic, eastern and innocent. This quarterly Meeting was in Taiwan, so it boded well.
When I told Penny we were going to a Meeting she went hysterical. It took me some time to realize that she thought I was going to sell her, and more time to convince her I wasn't, but then the words started to tumble out of her. It was like a breaking dam, all the things she had not said for so long, and all the things she could not talk about, suddenly wanted to get out.