The Big Exclusive

At an ungodly hour of the morning, alarms went off and the bleary-eyed women tumbled out of bed and hurried into their clothes.

The first stop was a long queue. The inductees were instructed to remove but hold on to their crop tops. One by one the women were led to a device that resembled a medieval stock. Donna placed her neck in the half-moon depression and the top half closed over her. There was an electronic hum, the smell of hot metal and then the device was opened. There was a seamless band of chromium steel around Donna's neck inscribed with a unique serial number. As Donna stepped away from the stocks, she was handed a slip of paper with the serial number from her collar written or it. "This is who you are now. Memorize it," stated the attendant. Donna read, 973-536-008. She knew with this act that she had ceased to be both Donna Clemens and Donna Freeman. "Barbara sure a shit better be there!" thought Donna as she put her top back on.

Once every collar was affixed about the neck of every initiate, they were led to a room with a padded floor. An instructor held court.

"Slaves, you may have heard of obedience collars before, but I assure you that nothing has prepared you for what you are about to experience. The collars tap into your nervous system. One thing they do is prevent menstruation and keep you infertile. Of course, your future owner can alter that setting. The other thing they do is this!"

The instructor produced a tiny controller and pressed a button. Instantly, every collared woman screamed and fell to the floor. The unrelenting and overwhelming pain lasted for a full forty seconds before coming to a blessed termination.

The instructor pushed another button, and the collared women began experiencing sensual pleasure. The pleasure built until all the women orgasmed simultaneously.

"I think I've made my point, slaves. Your future owners will have controllers just like this. How they wield it, is entirely up to you!"

The women were given a minute or so to relax before they filed into a classroom and were instructed on the ins and outs of being a first-class slave; what to say, how to say it, how to be solicitous of their masters, what would be expected of them sexually. Not even the smallest details were omitted. Donna paid rapt attention when she noted that bored-looking girls were zapped by the instructor for not absorbing everything.

After a long day in the classroom with only bathroom breaks and a boxed lunch at their seats, the women filed in for dinner.

"Well, I for one intend to be a VERY compliant slave," stated a petite blonde. "I can't stand pain in any form. I thought I'd die before my collar shut off."

"The orgasm was something else!" said another, "I haven't had one like that since after the senior prom!"

Donna felt much the same way. If her hypothetical owner gave her orgasms like that on a regular basis, it would not be long before she would be begging to have his baby!"

The second day of instruction began with a vigorous exercise regime. The newly minted slaves were issued one-size-fits-all leotards and led to a gymnasium. Easing up on an apparatus resulted in a remedial zap from the collar. Donna and the other slaves were drenched in sweat before they were allowed to shower and dry off before another round of classroom instruction. Donna was surprised, though she realized she shouldn't have been, that the collar was fully water-resistant.

This day in class, very realistic artificial cocks and pussies were distributed to every slave and each was evaluated on their ability to suck cock and eat pussy.

"Very, good 973-536-008! You are a natural!" enthused the instructor. Donna was unsure how to take that. She's always loved giving head to her boyfriends, so she just did what came naturally. In college, she had a brief fling with another straight girl experimenting with the lesbian lifestyle, but Donna always preferred cocks to slots.

The third day was evenly split between exercise, classroom, and hands-on instruction. Donna felt that she had learned a lot of neat tricks to try with her next boyfriend. The fact that she was not currently in a relationship had been one of her reasons for opting to do this story now rather than later.

"Tomorrow, you all hit the sales floor, slaves. It was fun getting to know you," declared the grey-haired instructor, "will, 854-211-673, 973-563-008, and 100-385-776, remain after the rest of you are dismissed.

The rest of the slaves filed out of the room; the tree remaining girls looked at each other with mutually puzzled expressions.

"Slaves, there is a current shortage of slaves scheduled for our sale in Boston tomorrow. The three of you will join slaves from our other facility on a private flight to Massachusetts tonight. I'd tell you to pack your bags, but you have no bags to pack. The shuttle to take you to the airport will be here in an hour and a half."

"B-but, I HAVE to be sold in Miami!"

"Yes, I understand that the climate is better here, but it makes no difference where you are sold, 973-563-008," replied the matronly instructor.

"No! You don't understand! I NEED to be sold in Miami! You can't... AHHH!"

The pain cutting off the rest of Donna's words was practically crippling. When the fog of pain lifted, the instructor was standing over Donna with a scowl or her face.

"Listen, you little shit! The company makes the rules and decides where and when you get sold. Now shut the fuck up and go with the other girls to the lounge and await your ride.

"But... AHHH!"

"What the fuck did I just say, bitch!"

Donna collapsed into a ball and emitted copious tears. Two burly male guards picked Donna up bodily, carried her into the lounge, and dumped her on a couch.

The other girls seemed both puzzled and unsympathetic.

"What was that big show all about, Red?" asked one, an olive-skinned brunette.

"I'm a reporter after a story. I have a buyer on the outside!"

The other girl, a tall ash-blonde started laughing hysterically.

"Now that is the stupidest thing I ever heard! You have a real job and a real life on the outside and you decided to sneak into here? What a dope!"

"Go easy or her, said the first slave. She obviously didn't plan well enough."

"No shit, Sherlock!" The ash-blonde smirked at Donna, "Oh, you'll get your story all right Red, only the headline has to bake for five years!" Once more she laughed.

"You have to help me? You have to tell someone!"

"Like whom? We are all wearing collars. Nobody listens to slaves."

"Oh, this is terrible!" whined Donna as she cried into her palms.

"Maybe it's not so bad," stated the olive-skinned slave in a soothing tone, "A girl with your looks is bound to sell for big money. Guys or gals who spend that kind of money are only interested in an organic sex toy. Having lots of sex is fun, right?"

"You're NOT helping!" cried Donna. "I have to get out of here!"

"And how are you going to accomplish that, Red?" inquired the ash blonde. I've been to prison, the security here is lots tougher. All the guards have to do is push the button on their controllers and you are down for the count!"

"What am I going to do?" cried Donna.

"I'd suggest, moron, applying the classroom lessons!"

With that, the two other slaves backed away from Donna and helped themselves to some coffee. One of them turned the television on.

Donna was still weeping when the guards arrived to escort the trio to the company van.

"Oh, shit. We have one in a regret episode," said the first guard.

"We don't have time to deal with that now. Just give her a shot and get her to the airport. Boston can deal with her tomorrow."

Donna was so upset; she didn't even feel the pinprick of the needle. Seconds later, she was utterly dead to the world.

When Donna returned to consciousness, she found herself buckled into the seat of a small jetliner. She gazed at the darkening landscape below. She recognized the shoreline of the Chesapeake Bay.

"Oh, God!" she gasped.

"Hey, look who's awake! Big money!" said a female voice.

A middle eastern girl settled into the seat next to Donna. "We've been betting how long you would be asleep. I won the pot. Pity there is no real money in it."

"Where am I?"

"Where else would you be, gorgeous? We're off to the hub city."

"I CAN'T go to Boston!"

"And exactly how are you going to prevent that, fashion model?"

A nappy-headed dark angelic face appeared over the middle eastern girl's shoulder. "We took the liberty of stripping you and checking you out while you were unconscious. We figure you'll big the biggest price of any of us. If I was free, and had the money, I'd bid on you myself!"

"You undressed me?" asked a stunned Donna.

"What's the big deal? Most of us will be naked for weeks at a time. Being shy does a slave no favors."

"This can't be happening!"

"Told ya she was stupid!" stated the ash-blonde from Miami. "Good thing her master will have her suck on his cock all the time, so he won't have to listen to brain dead here talk!"

A wave of twitters rolled across the cabin.

"Are you really a reporter?" asked the middle eastern girl.

"I am."

"No, you WERE, moron!"

All the girls laughed.

"I love to be a fly on the wall when her master breaks Red here!" opined and older woman in a collar.

"Can't a woman get some compassion?" inquired Donna.

"Maybe we'd give you some -- if you weren't so fucking stupid!"

"I went to college!"

"And learned NOTHING, obviously."

"Why are you so cruel?" asked Donna as she teared up.

"Because, sexy twat, we were at the end of our ropes and had no other options. Yes, being a slave is going to suck a lot of the time, but it is better than being homeless or living with some fat, drunken jerk who beats us just to have a place to sleep. You had the good life that all of us dream of, and you risked it all for a pointless story. I hope you are fucked hard with a three-foot strap-on in every possible orifice over and over until you learn something."

"We women should stick together!" declared Donna.

"Every slave for herself, sexy body. Maybe when we are civilians again, we'll band together, but for the next five years we are property that has to please our owners if we don't want to wallow in pain."

The other slaves or the plane left Donna to stew at that point as someone put a movie on the screen at the front of the cabin. Donna practically choked on the irony when she realized it was a Lifetime "slave romance" flick.

**

The plane landed in Boston and company guards boarded the plane. In a numbed daze, Donna allowed herself to be led from her seat in the plane to one in a panel van. Half an hour later, they were all marched into the Boston sales facility. They arrived just in time for dinner. The other slaves devoured their meals with gusto. Donna barely touched her food. She was in a nightmare from which she could not awake, and she had no idea how long it would last. Her tears already spent. Donna fell into a restless sleep. Maybe, she thought just before she closed her eyes, if she explained her story to whoever bought her, they would agree to call B.C.N. to verify her story and the network would reimburse Donna's purchaser. A slim hope was better than none.

The slaves were allowed to sleep in a bit. Donna went through her late morning exercises with her plan germinating in her head, "Surely, someone with money must have an education. I can appeal to that. I could tell them that they would be painted as a hero in my story. Simple honesty HAS to be respected."

She ate all her breakfast and continued to psych herself up. She was almost surprised when they came for her.

"OK, 973-536-008, time to put your clothes in the hamper and follow me to the stage. We expect big numbers out of you, so I want you smiling pretty or, so help me God, I'll zap you senseless."

More hopeful than she had been, Donna followed the dower matron's instructions. Soon she was backstage standing before a large frame clearly designed to hold human beings. Two burly men in executioner's hoods stood nearby. Donna blood froze. Manny and Moe are going to strap you to this rig and wheel you out on stage shortly. I better see a smile on that pretty face or else! If you come in under your assessed price, things will go VERY badly for you."

Donna nodded that she understood.

One of the huge men approached Donna and picked her up as though she weighed nothing. The other bruiser quickly fastened straps around Donna's shoulders, ankles, thighs, wrists, and arms in a spreadeagle position. Just before she was wheeled onto the stage one of the masked men produced a razor, a basin of water, and some shaving cream. With expertise and dexterity, he reduced Donna's ample dyed red pubic nest to a thin strip.

"All set, boss!" shouted one of the hooded men to the matron and Donna's frame began its journey to center stage.

The lights went on and Donna found herself in a modest-sized arena. The brightness of the lights shining in her eyes prevented her from seeing much detail, but her appearance brought cheers from the audience which filled every seat. The crowd buzzed as Donna was slowly rotated two complete turns. The auctioneer started in. Donna could not follow along; he spoke so quickly. A jolt from Donna's collar caused the dazed look to vanish from her face followed by a wide, dazzling smile. The pace of the bidding increased.

It seemed agonizing hours to Donna but was only fifteen or so minutes until Donna heard "Sold!" and the arena broke out in applause. Donna had time to think, "It CAN'T end like this!" as her frame was returned backstage.

"You brought what's sure to be the best price of the day 973-536-008!"

"Whoopie!" said Donna sarcastically as One of the hooded men lowered her to the floor. The matron zapped her for her impertinence and then announced. "You go to a holding cell until your owner claims you. Best you be planning to greet him or her properly."

The cell was padded everywhere except for the combination toilet and sink. Her wait was not long. The Matron conducted her to a tiny room and had her face the door. The sound of footsteps was followed by the appearance of a handsome but quite middle-aged man in a tailored suit and Italian shoes. He looked at Donna expectantly. Donna's collar buzzed and she remembered her slave training. Galling as it was, she knew there was no other option. She fell to her knees and liberated the man's better than average-sized penis from his trousers and performed the best blow job she could under the circumstances. The man held Donna's head firmly and shot his load down her throat. Donna knew that swallowing was expected. She choked it down and forced a smile to her face.

"Adequate," stated the man in the business suit.

"Rise."

Donna found her feet. A man behind him handed him a short robe which he handed to Donna.

"Put this on, slave," we depart immediately.

"Yes, sir," returned Donna as she slid the robe on to discover that it didn't conceal very much of her.

The older man extended his hand and Donna took it. She was led out the rear door of the arena and into the back seat of a limousine.

"What should I call you, sir?"

"Obviously, Master or Sir."

"Oh."

Before Donna could utter another word, the man cut her off. "We will discuss your situation, slave, once we reach my residence."

With nothing else to do, Donna gazed out the window at the passing landscape. She had not spent too much time in New England. The early summer day was a bit cool; the foliage was gorgeous and promised to be absolutely stunning come fall. She had always adored Autumn. The drive ended in the driveway of an impressive mansion in the country. Donna wondered how much she had sold for. A man with the money of her new owner did not spend cheap for anything.

A butler held the door for them both. The tiled walkway was cold under her bare feet, but the carpet was warm and thick.

"To my office, slave."

Donna followed him up to the second floor to a beautiful office with a spectacular view of woodlands out the bay window.

"Stand there."

"Yes, Sir."

The man settled himself in his office chair.

"My name is Warren Wasserman III. I am fabulously wealthy. I have little use for slaves myself. However, you are a graduation present for my son. Warren IV. He has just completed his secondary education at a prestigious private school. He will be attending Harvard in the fall. You will be his first test of adulthood and manhood. I intend for him to take my place as head of the family business empire. I have my reservations, however. To test his mettle, I am entrusting you to him. He will be responsible for clothing, feeding, and tending to all the slave owner requirements. You, in turn will provide him with all his sensual and sexual needs both over this summer and through all four of his undergraduate years at Harvard. I expect him to train you well, maintain your fabulous figure, and dress you stylishly out of his allowance. I hope that he can do these things economically and with a sense of flair. If he completes these tasks to my satisfaction and maintains a stellar grade point average, I will know that he is quite fit to fill my shoes. When your term of service is over, I shall quintuple whatever earnings you have accumulated through your term of service. When you are emancipated, you will find yourself a quite wealthy woman."

Donna drank Warren senior words in. He expected her to deflower his son and be his son's pet. It occurred to her that Warren III might not be inclined to allow B.C.N. to purchase her back. He seemed the sort to hold onto his possessions if he possibly could. That caused her to wonder if the son was as handsome as the father. If the promise of the money was sincere...

"You seem lost in thought."

"Just drinking it in, sir."

"I hope it meets your approval. Time to meet your master, slave. Rise and stand next to me."

The father pressed a button on his desk.

"Son, your presence is required in my office, immediately."

Within seconds a very attractive young man entered the well-apportioned office.

"Warren. This is the project we discussed recently." He gestured towards Donna

The young man's eyes opened wide as he studied Donna. "Father! You are much too generous."

"Only the best for my only son. As we discussed, you and you alone are responsible for her care, training, and protection. I suggest your first order of business after we all sit down to dinner and you two get acquainted is to see that she has a suitable wardrobe. I will NOT condone any unsolicited nudity in the main parts of the house. I expect you to have an eye for fashion, stylish, classy, trendy. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Dad!"

Warren III slid Donna's controller across the desk to his son, who received it with a wide smile as his eyes practically devoured every millimeter of Donna's alluring curves and astonishing legs "Fine, let us all retreat to the dining room."

Warren IV took Donna's hand, and both followed the father to a humongous dining room already set with fine china and silver trimmed flatware. The father sat at one end of the table; the son sat at the other. Donna found her number on a calligraphed placemat to the immediate right of Warren IV. The butler proceeded to dole out the food. Donna waited for her young master to begin eating before she dared to dine herself. The food bowled her over.

"We have Michelin chef on staff," the son said to Donna, "An extravagance when it is just me and my father dining, but a godsend when we are hosting parties, which is quite often."

His hand darted below the table and squeezed Donna gently on the thigh.

Father and son spoke to each other warmly about various intrigues Donna could not deduce and about the state of the family businesses. The financial details were beyond Donna and her 401K and Roth IRA. What was abundantly clear was the warmth and affection with which father and son held each other.