From Sales to Sold Ch. 02

It was far too early when Miranda was woken by a buzzer. Exhausted from a day of deep-throating Miranda had been confined to a slave locker in the basement. It was cramped, stuffy, and just big enough to kneel in. Gods know how I managed to get any sleep, she thought.

A sexretary from Female Services was there to let the slaves out of their lockers, hose them down, and set them to work. This morning it was Tina, who studiously avoided Miranda's eyes.

Miranda was too tired to question the disgusting looking mulch presented as breakfast and wolfed it down like the rest of the slaves, she tried not to think of the fact she now had to eat from a bowl on the floor labelled "Suckslut". After that it was time for Miranda and the other slaves to get "dressed": heels, stockings, and leather cuffs for the wrists and ankles.

"Suckslut," said Tina, still avoiding eye contact, "you, Clitlicker, Cumguzzler, and Whorenimal will be on 7th in conference room 4, the finance team is in training and they'll need entertainment. Suckslut they've requested your usual chopstick bun, the rest of you cunts just braids, pigtails...anything they can grab. Oh, and plenty of eyeshadow. They complained yesterday about not seeing tears..."

As she made herself up Miranda winced at the irony of making herself "pretty" at the request of a bunch of rapists.

Once they were prepared their group waited their turn for the service elevator, a tight box with no buttons that detected slave collars and moved occupants where they were directed. Tense silence fell as the indicator inside quietly moved through the floors, moving inexorably to the 7th.

—

The hand holding Miranda's hairbun forced her face into the round conference table, her assailant's other arm cranking hers up in a hammerlock. Miranda didn't even know which asshole had grabbed her and slammed her tits first into the table, but she could see the other slaves getting similar treatment, although some were face up for better slapping access.

She felt the man behind lean in close, "Bet you regret turning me down for a date now, Suckslut?"

Shit, she thought, Jacobson. She'd turned him down on account of a warning from a sexretary on 9th. She hadn't believed the nickname "Puppy Pounder" until she'd seen the photo of his former slave-wife on his desk. Bound so she had to walk on her elbows and knees, she sat on her hind quarters next to him, tailplug fully visible, head contained in a dog faced muzzle with a comical leather tongue hanging out of the side. His average was about one slave-wife a year, the sexretary had said.

Jacobson was determined to take out his frustrations on Miranda in the here and now, though. He parted her legs to his liking by roughly shoving her heels with a foot. "Which hole, I wonder, ass....or pussy?" he asked, his hot breath aimed right at her ear..

She already knew which, especially if he wanted to hurt her. Bastard, she thought, at least as an office slave you don't own me yourself. She braced herself as she felt his cock start to slide firmly and insistently between her cheeks. His full bodyweight was on her now, crushing her into the conference room table and she gasped out a thin string of spittle as she struggled for breath.

Slowly, inch by inch and with seemingly all the malice he could muster he entered her. Tears welled up in Miranda's eyes and she squealed, scrabbling with her free hand to escape the pain in vain as her male former colleagues mocked her around the table..

Slowly Jacobson began to pick up the pace, leaving her little to do but gasp and wince. She glanced quickly around at the other slavegirls who faced her, she saw pity but no sadness in their faces through her tears. Better he's in my ass than yours, huh? She thought in frustration.

His thrusts began to assume a slow rhythm, punctuated by a heavy slap as his belly impacted on her ass cheeks at his fullest violating penetration, "You know, I think I might chain you up under my desk for a while, keep you for my personal use as department head. You could be my office cum dumpster...being a department head has its perks." he said, breathing heavily from his efforts. For the first time Miranda wept tears not of anger, pain or frustration but of despair.