The Big Exclusive

"Your master didn't tell you? You are getting a deluxe body wax, earlobes to great toes. It will keep you satiny smooth everywhere for the next three months."

"Oh," replied donna as she finished shedding her clothes.

"Wow! You must have set your master back a pretty penny!"

"So, I've been told."

"What were you before? Model? Actress?"

"Cable news reporter."

"Really? Then how in God's name did you end up with a collar around your neck?"

"Long, story, Blondie, long story."

"You can tell me all about it while you are or the table, Stunning."

They proceed to the next open table and Donna mentally prepared herself for the sting of so many hairs being pulled out at once.

"I'm Shelby," said the technician as the wax began heating.

"I was Donna, now I'm Connie."

"Nice to meet you. Spectacular dye job. Gift from your master?"

"He doesn't know, I've been a slave for less than a week. I'm sure he'll be pissed when he finds out I'm naturally a light brown."

"He never needs to find out. I figure that thing will begin to fade in about three months, that's when your next wax will be due. We can maintain that shade with a fresh dye. He'll never question the bill. What do men know about women's hair? Unless they're French and named Vidal. Ha!"

"You'd do that for me?"

"Hey, we slaves have to stick together."

"You're a clever one."

"Not really. I was a hairstylist in my old life. I even ran my own shop. Then the recession hit. I just paid for some major new equipment. They called in the loans and raised the rent on my shop. I ended up so far in debt I couldn't see the sky. I still do hair around her from time to time."

"Interesting."

"I'm also normally the possessor of raven tresses, the tan is bronzer, and the California wide jaw accent is an affectation. Our boss just thinks that Malibu beach girls is a good image for her spa."

"What's it like, being a slave?"

"I'm in my third year, Honey. So far, it's not been too bad. My boss is a nice woman. She owns spas up and down the east coast. We cater to everybody, not just slave owners. In lieu of bonuses, she takes up to the stud farm in Providence."

"Stud farm?"

"Where have you been, girl? Some smart entrepreneurs started scarfing up guys that were well-endowed and made muscle men out of them and taught them to dance and how to romance a woman or a guy. Man, do they know how to fuck! Those guys have it the best of all slaves, sweet talk it, hump it, pump it, cum inside it, rinse and repeat."

"Really?"

"Yep! Once I did an excellent job with this old harridan whom no one else could deal with. Waxed her, did her hair, nails, and makeup. She left this place looking twenty years younger. I actually saved the dame's marriage. The subsequent tip she mailed the boss, was so large, she bought me an entire night with an Arnie in his prime doppelganger. Woo!"

"My owner's a kid fresh out of high school. I am his graduation present."

"Really. It's good they don't card here then. What's he like?"

"He's a kid. Smart. Built like an Adonis. Nice enough, I suppose but the age difference! Eeew!"

"I've had girls on this table in worse situations. They must deal with obese old guys with huge wallets, tiny peckers, and bad personal hygiene habits. I swear, each one of them are such good actresses they should all win Oscars!"

"Well, Warren's not bad in bed, for a kid I mean."

"Sure. What woman doesn't want to get laid by an eighteen-year-old hunk!"

"Hey!"

"I've been in hair, Sunshine. Women tell me things they wouldn't tell their psychiatrist and I'm good at reading people. Now, THIS is going to sting!" she said as she reached for a large patch of wax.

"Mother Fucker!"

Selby laughed.

"Yeah, that was a good one!"

"Bitch!"

"I get that a lot too, Mrs. Robinson!"

Donna had to admit that Shelby had done a fantastic job as she ran her fingers over her satiny smooth skin. She savored being able to dress. She had to admit, Warren's choice of clothing was not bad. She could see herself wearing this or the air at the B.C.N. "If only he'd give me undies." She said softly.

Shelby escorted Donna back through the curtains into the reception area. Shortly thereafter Warren returned from the lounge smelling like an expensive cigar. Shelby grinned and hiked up Donna's skirt revealing her now hairless and baby smooth sex.

"Wow!"

Warren reached for his wallet.

"I am forbidden from accepting tips sir."

"I'll gladly take your gratuity, sir!" piped in the clerk behind the desk.

Warren nodded with understanding and placed a Franklin and Grant before her.

"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," said the clerk and Shelby as one.

As they headed back out to the parking lot, Warren whispered hot in Donna's ear, "I can't wait until I get you home and can eat you out!"

Donna sighed. How much of herself would die before she escaped from her situation?

Their next stop was in the warehouse district. Warren led Donna to a non-descript entry. Only when they were near it could she read the sign above the door, "Michael Sevetic. Assessor. Insurance Broker"

"Warren, what is this place?"

"I have to have you properly appraised, Connie so that I can properly insure you. Like all property, you will be rated and assessed. I can't keep you on my father's homeowner's policy. He is firm about that. Every bit of your upkeep must come from my allowance. He's even going to bill me each month for your portion of the food budget."

Donna's skin crawled as they entered the business proper. She could just imagine what her "assessment" would entail! They entered a waiting room. Five slaves and their masters had preceded them. Warren stated his name to the collared girl behind the plexiglass and they took a seat. Donna was struck by the variety of slaves in the room. Her eyes took in a petite woman with coal-black hair and ivory skin sitting next to a prosperous-looking man with a goatee. One of the collared women had to be at least forty. Still, she seemed well-preserved. She sat next to a pudgy man about the same age as the woman. The two exchanged kisses and mutual wisecracks, oblivious to the rest of the room. There was a woman in her late thirties in a business suit and an amazingly flattering hairstyle with a handsome man at the end of a leash in tow. Donna contemplated what it would be like to own a man. The business-suited woman met Donna's gaze and winked. Donna quickly focused on the somewhat skinny blonde woman in a collar who was obviously pregnant. Lastly, there was a very young albino woman wearing a hopeless expression next to a man who was obviously middle eastern.

One by one, the couples vanished behind a door on the opposite wall. Donna looked at the magazines or the common coffee table and cringed. "Slave Maintenance Quarterly," "Slave Nutrition and Exercise," "Contemporary Slave Master," and "Slavery on a Budget!"

"Is this really happening? Am I really here?" asked Donna of herself. Her hand went to her collar, and she realized the answer to both questions was a horrifying, "yes."

Finally, the girl in the plexiglass booth said, "Wasserman? The assessor will see you now."

Donna felt as though her stomach was in free fall as the door closed behind her.

"Have a seat," said the balding man in the Ben Franklin spectacles. He shook Warren's hand.

"I take it that both of you are new to the slave industry?"

"Yes."

"Let me explain a little bit of what I do. Slaves cannot go uninsured for more than a fortnight. People in my profession will give an accurate assessment of the property, the slave. Since sales figures are classified, we need to deduce what the slave probably sold for and estimate any depreciation or appreciation that will occur over the slave's term of service. I'm also a salesman for all the major insurance companies. I guarantee the most competitive price. Slave assessment is a straightforward process. We judge by physical attractiveness, intelligence, muscle tone, skin condition. We consider things like tattoos, scars, and birthmarks. Lastly, we determine how obedient and responsive the slave is. A repeat assessment takes about thirty minutes. Did either of you notice the distinguished looking middle-aged woman and her master?"

"I did,' supplied Donna.

"That's Doug and Desirée. He's owned her since slavery was first instituted. Doug fell in love with her on a discount sales lot. They have been inseparable ever since. I understand that she had a hard life before she entered slavery. Most women her age who sign a slave contract do. You sure could not tell that now! Anyway, Doug always brings Desirée in for her annual assessment. They zip through this place. Each subsequent assessment will be faster. The first one always takes a while. First off, Mr. Wasserman, let me congratulate you for owning such an attractive and healthy slave. If it's not too much trouble, can you undress her for me? There are hangers and shelves to your right."

"You heard the man, Connie."

The nudity that Donna expected arrived.

"Oh my!" said the assessor.

"On to the scale with you, Connie. This will tell us not only your weight but also your muscle mass, respiration rate, and blood pressure."

"I see that's she's been rendered hairless as required by law. How much did that excellent wax job set you back, son."

"You don't want to know."

Sevetic had Donna step off the scale and move as he instructed.

"No visible tattoos. That scar behind her back knee won't knock anything off her price. How did you get that, child?"

"Bike accident when I was nine or ten years old."

Donna was instructed to sit on a stool.

This next test is of your vision, teeth, hearing, and intelligence. A hood lowered from the ceiling and the assessor placed a controller in Donna's hand. She was to press the button as instructed by the mechanical voice inside the hood. She sailed through the teeth, hearing, and vision test, but the intelligence test was surprisingly difficult. Donna had always considered herself a well-informed newswoman and one sharp cookie.

At last, the hood lifted, and Donna blinked her eyes to adjust them.

"She's no scholar. Bright enough tough. Fortunately, no one buys a slave for their brain."

"Hey!"

Warren quickly zapped her, and the rest of Donna's protest died on her lips.

"Now for the big test. Up on the table, Connie and lie back."

"Hand me your controller, son."

Warren did so. A moment later Donna was riding the crest of an orgasmic high, much more satisfying than she had received from her collar before. It built and built and then Donna cried out and exploded all over the protective paper of the table.

"Holy cow! How did you do that, Mr. Sevetic?"

The older man laughed and handed Donna's controller back.

"Some things come with age and experience, lad."

Warren gazed at Donna, she barely seemed conscious.

"Is she OK?"

"Yeah. The "whammy" does that. She'll be fine in ten minutes or so. That gives us a head start to discuss policy options.

"Is that the best you can do?" asked Warren a few moments later.

"Mr. Wasserman, your Connie is exceptionally beautiful, remarkably fit, a dynamo between the sheets, and nowhere near as smart as she thinks she is. She's the total package. I can say with all sincerity, that in my years of doing assessments, only three or maybe five come even close to approaching her evaluation. Women that look like her simply do not become slaves that often, they go on stage or into the film industry. You are one amazingly fortunate young man."

"I don't doubt that, but this premium is going to bankrupt me!"

"Look son, you have a goldmine here. Start monetizing her."

"What?"

The older man withdrew a magazine from his desk and a lightbulb went off in Warren's head.

"Oh!"

"Exactly!"

"Warren?" Connie's soft voice came from the table, she slowly sat up.

"What the hell did you do to me?" she asked Sevetic.

"I take it you liked it."

"That is an understatement! I mean, holy shit!"

The old man and the young man were still giggling as Warren fished dressing her.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," replied Warren, "Private joke."

"I hope it isn't at my expense."

"I hope you are hungry, Connie. It's time for dinner and dancing."

"Sure, change the subject!"

"Are you hungry or not?"

"Famished."

"Well, let's get a move on!"

Donna concluded that the restaurant was very nice indeed. A jazz combo sat at one edge of the stage. Couples slow danced in front of it and the food was spectacular. Donna was a bit self-conscious, however. Warren had insisted that she leave her blazer in the car. When the light was right, anyone withing viewing distance could discern Donna's areolas and nipples behind the thin white silk of her blouse. Warren had taken dancing lessons to improve his performance on the athletic field. He had run track and hurdles in addition to starring on the water polo team. He moved very well on the dance floor. Donna was a good dancer as well and, for first-time partners, they communicated their moves to each other very well.

Warren was too young to buy alcohol, but several gentlemen sent shots and drinks Donna's way. Two of them even got to take Donna out for a spin or the floor. Warren seemed to enjoy watching her with them.

She was the best kind of tired during the drive home. The night was beautiful and the air crisp. Donna did not remember falling asleep. She was still dead to the world when they returned to the Wasserman estate. Carefully, Warren carried her upstairs to his room. Just as carefully, he stripped her and laid her on his bed. He took out his digital camera, The same one he had used earlier to take pictures of Donna, just before they headed to town, adjusted the lighting, and took dozens of pictures of Donna in various poses before he tugged the covers up to her chin and headed over to his computer to compose a very heartfelt letter.

Donna yawned in the morning. Realized that Warren had undressed her and put her to bed. Warren was doing pushups in a corner.

"You must be angry with me for falling asleep like that, Warren."

"Not at all," replied the lad as he continued to rise and fall. "I know you will make it up to me."

"Last night at that restaurant was fantastic."

"I quite agree."

"You HAVE to take me there again!"

"When I can afford it. That place is insanely expensive. With what your insurance costs and all the clothes I bought for you; my bank account is hurting."

"Gee, I'm sorry, Warren. I wish there was something I could do about that."

"It is quite all right, Connie. I allowed you to sleep through breakfast. You get protein bars and yogurt and then it's exercise time once again."

After his usual punishing exercise regime that bordered on torture, Warren settled Donna on Blaze to commence her first riding lesson.

"I haven't been on a horse in years, Warren."

"Nothing to it, just listen to my instruction."

They rode all over the grounds of the Wasserman estate and even through some of the neighboring fields before returning home. Donna was coated in sweat while Warren was barely perspiring.

"After the horses are watered ad fed, it is into the tub for you Constance your royal stickiness and smelliness."

"Meanie!"

"Mouth off once more and you get a spanking as well as a bath."

When his head was turned, Donna stuck her tongue out at him.

The bath was wonderful. Donna could get very used to being pampered like this. Warren even washed her hair expertly. While she was still damp from the bath, Warren carried her to his bed and buried his face in Donna's bald pussy. He savored the sensation and worked intently; he came THIS close to getting her off.

"That was very nice, Warren."

"I'll get better," he replied as he finished her off with the controller.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Dad is expecting us for dinner."

Warren dressed Donna in a navy cocktail dress with matching blue stockings and heels. He placed a string of pearls around her neck. After a bit of struggle, he managed to get the pearl earrings in each lobe.

"I hear from my agent, that your little playmate is off my homeowner's policy. I see that you are getting things squared away, son. I like the dress and the accessories. I also hear she is spending a great deal of time in the pool sans swimsuit."

Donna flushed.

"She's in training for the slave games next summer. I discovered that she is an outstanding swimmer."

"Ah, when are the regionals?"

"Middle of December. The games are next June. The first regional is an open tournament. If she places in that, she is in the qualifying final in March."

"That does not give you an optimal training schedule."

"I feel confident that she will win, dad."

"Where are they holding the games next year?'

"At a resort in the Poconos."

"The regionals?"

"Hartford and then Boston for the games themselves."

"Well, that is convenient. Don't overwork her son. And do not neglect your studies."

"Any you... Constance? Do you think you will be able to fulfil my son's ambitions?"

"I'll do my best, sir."

"Is there anything I need to know about? Is he mistreating you?"

"Oh no! Not at all, sir!"

"If you ever feel that he is being unreasonable, my door is always open to you."

"Thank, you, sir."

"Do you like my son, slave?"

"I think he is a very fine boy."

"On that we agree."

"I hope everything goes well in Chicago, dad."

"I despise board meetings! You would think in this age where your telepresence can be anywhere this would all be unnecessary. Let that be a lesson to you son, NEVER buy into a company whose entire board of directors is composed of senior citizens!"

"I'll keep it in mind, dad."

After dinner concluded, Warren took Donna for a walk about the perimeter of the mansion. I thought we'd get a little air before we make love."

Warren draped his arm over Donna's shoulders.

"Warren, honey, can I have a journal to record my experiences in? If I am going to spend five tears as a slave, I might forget things over time. When I tell my story I'll need things fresh."

"I suppose so. But you must always refer to yourself as "Warren's Constance" which is who you legally are now, and you must submit it to me every Sunday night so that I can read and approve the contents. What I censor STAYS OUT. Is that clear?"

"Warren..."

"If there is another word out of your mouth the answer will be no, perpetually."

"OK, Warren."

"Good. Now let's seal our agreement with a kiss."

Late the next day, Warren handed Donna a package that had been rush ordered from Boston. She opened it to find a purple journal with the word "The Diary of Warren's Slave, Constance" in gold letters. Accompanying the journal was an expensive pen and pencil set.

Donna thanked Warren appropriately with a kiss and a blowjob. The next day, Warren began painstakingly keeping track of Donna's times in the pool and on the treadmill. Warren Senior strode out of the house just after dinner. Warren junior promptly began making calls on his cellphone.

"I'm hosting a party for my teammates and some other school chums, tonight. You HAVE to look fantastic!"

Donna did not believe that a butt-hugging black miniskirt, a midriff-bearing blouse with spaghetti straps and white sandals was a "fantastic" look, but she knew better than to complain about it.

The first group of young men and women arrived within the hour. Everyone gathered by the pool while the butler tended to the grill. Loud music filled the air. Warren took Donna by the hand and introduced her to his friends.

"Chet, Emily. Steve, Diane, this is Constance or Connie for short."

"Pleased to meet you." said the women. Chet stared open-mouthed a Steve said, "You are so fucking lucky, W. My asshole of a dad refused to buy me a slave for college because I got a C in physics! I mean when am I EVER going to use that in real life?"