The Consortium - Amarie Ch. 01

Ok, this is my first adventure into erotic fiction. My hope for this entry is that I might be entertaining, and have minimal typos. I have reviewed it quite a few times. That being said, one can't always fine their own mistakes. Also, I have a strange habit of falling into complex sentences structures which just beg for mistakes! Hopefully any errors will be mild and won't cause any severe confusion or hinder readability. So... I would greatly appreciate any feedback or suggestions... Since I am a novice ;-)

Anyway... Welcome to the world of the Complement Consortium!

Background Definitions:

Consortium: institution that grooms lifelong companions and sex slaves, they tailor slave development to customer needs

Complement: a person who takes residence at a Consortium, this person will be contracted to be a lifelong companion and sex slave to customers of Consortium

Commandant: the customers of the Consortium, they are the future masters to all purchased Complements, they may choose to change the title once they are in possession of the Complement

Discernment Day: legally required day to give ALL Complements a chance to opt out of lifelong service to a Commandant

Mistress: general BAB (bad ass bitch), possible mind reader, and oversees all aspects of the Consortium

*****

"So how exactly does this work?"

Eric's cool grey eyes scanned through the two-way glass. The circular control room, from which he peered, was high above the organized movements below. Rooms upon rooms were filled with young women performing almost mechanically organized tasks. Each room seemed to be dedicated to a specific aspect of a daily routine. He looked back at the stern, yet attractive, woman sitting behind the large mahogany desk in the center of the space. The high-backed leather chair provided a dark frame by which her pale skin popped. Her dark almond-shaped eyes seemed to be searching his expression. Her icy stare left him feeling slightly unsettled. Being a rigid man himself, he found her effect on him odd to say the least. He felt as if her eyes saw beyond his outward appearance. It felt as if every single one of his thoughts, feelings, and desires were on display. In this situation, she had all the control. He did not like it; he didn't like it at all. However, he was quite willing to endure discomfort if the rewards were great enough.

She smiled, correction... smirked, and slowly the humor reached her eyes. He could physically feel the release of her mental grip. She seemed satisfied with whatever it was she found in him. She slowly brought herself to her feet, walking smoothly on five inch patent leather stilettos; she came to stand beside him at the glass. Her tight, black, pencil skirt hugged every curve. Her thick glossy black hair, chopped bluntly at her collarbone, provided and armor-like curtain concealing her profile. He had a mental image of bending her over the expensive desk and pulling up her skirt. The thought made him grin wickedly. She turned her head toward him, looked up and down, and emitted a small laugh. This was the kind of laugh that said, "In your dreams."

"Let's keep focused on the Complements Mr. Foster."

"If you insist Miss Chandler," Eric smiled redirecting his gaze over the nubile figures below.

"If you would be so kind, call me Mistress, Mr. Foster. Also, we are fully aware that you possess the funds to purchase the Complement of your choice... and nearly quadruple the minimum yearly income requirement. The only thing left to do is determine the details." she began, purely business.

"I just need a quick rundown of general operations. I've read the literature you gave me but I would like to hear it from your ruby red lips." Studying her face he smiled... her feathers seemed incapable of being ruffled.

"I'll give you the short version. We assess groups of girls from undesirable home situations when they are quite young. If they fit within our... particular set of requirements, we bring them to the Consortium. We offer them shelter, healthcare, structure, education, and a familial type atmosphere. They are all given advanced educations. If an individual excels in a particular subject we will, of course, encourage that aptitude. We are not churning out cookie cutter Complements here, like other Consorts boast."

She gestured toward a room on the right. There a girl seemed to be playing cello. Her slender fingers sent the bow gliding across the strings. Her eyebrows lowered in stern concentration while chestnut tresses fell across her eyes. Mistress turned a dial on the complex panel in front of her and richly beautiful music filled the room. Eric's eyebrows raised in surprise at the complex cello runs the girl made with ease. Seeming satisfied with his reaction, Mistress continued.

"Every girl, until the age of 17 participates in daily physical training. This is to improve their individual shape, flexibility, and overall health. They are taught PC muscle routines as well, to promote blood circulation and tone."

Here she paused briefly to let his imagination wander. He watched as a room of girls successfully preformed, what he believed to be, a yoga pose entitled "The Scorpion".

"When the girls reach age 17 they are spoken for. This is when more individualized training begins. Until the age of 17, extreme measures are taken to keep the girls sexually naïve. Once the Commandant, you, has made his selection and defined his preferences we begin personalized training. Realize that all sexual education is purely didactic coursework until the age of 18. We protect our girls fiercely, until they are turned over to their Commandants on their 19th birthday. However, once turned over, there will be an annual assessment to evaluate the Complements living situation. If the girls are being harmed, in a way in which they see unfit, they will be removed. There is only one Complement per Commandant in our system. Also, we are an "organic" Consortium. This means we do not condone plastic surgery or even hair dying for that matter."

"What of this... Discernment Day?"

Mistress raised her eyebrows, "Ahhhh, D-Day, every Commandant's fear. Even though laws have changed much in the recent years, we are still obligated to give the girls a final choice. We give them the opportunity for an alternate route. We will provide a set sum of money and the proper connections to make their own way in this world. However, I do have to say, with the state of affairs today, these women are getting much better opportunities than most are afforded. There have only been two girls that have turned down the life of a Complement in the history of this Consortium. That is out of hundreds of thousands of women. It is no secret that I was one of the two." Here she looked at Eric and genuinely smiled. "I was set for the life of a submissive, even though the former Mistress warned that I was most likely not the right choice. The Commandant was insistent, and ultimately... greatly disappointed. I would take this cautionary tale to heart and give all my suggestions the gravity they deserve."

"Of course Mistress, I have a feeling that you know your girls very well. It seems to me you can read people quite easily." Of this Eric had no doubt

"Seems you are quite observant yourself Foster. I do have a unique talent for... "seeing" people for what they are. For instance, I make you uncomfortable, and not in a good way. Since I am a confident and dominating woman, I would assume you would prefer a more meek and submissive one. I can tell you like control, which means you will want us to leave sexual training largely up to you. Your Complement will be placed in the "Naïves" class in her last 2 years here. By the way you look at my body I can tell that you are an "ass" man, but of course you appreciate all aspects of the female form. I exude a darkness about me, I can tell you find me attractive but more in an "exotic artwork you appreciate" type of way. You will need something brighter and more vibrant to keep you interested. You do like my skin I can tell, only peaches and cream for your ideal. Hmmm... Now I must find most difficult piece. It is also my job to know what you need in a Complement. This you may not even realize yourself."

At this point the mistress grew quiet. She squinted slightly in great concentration staring into Eric's eyes. A small smile spread across her lips. She walked, swaying her hips, over to a large monitor across the room. Her fingers rapidly entered an elaborate numerical code. Her black pointed nail hovered above the return key.

"I have just the girl for you," she sighed, "and such a rarity. If you trust my judgment, and you are completely sure you want to enter an agreement, one press of this button and she will appear before your eyes."

"I'm ready." Eric's countenance exuding complete determination, confidence, and commitment.

Mistress waited only a moment, then pressed the key that brought up the image of Eric's future.

"Meet Amarie," Mistress purred, a knowing expression on her face.

He was completely lost, overcome, and being pulled into those gorgeous jade colored eyes.

The chair spun around quickly twirling the smock slightly. Amarie stared at herself in the mirror and was amazed by what she saw. She had never seen herself with makeup on before. Daniel (the gay, quick-talking, southern stylist at the Consortium) beamed at her, obviously proud of the result.

"Not too shabby for your 19th birthday make-over. That hair of yours is a beautiful conundrum. You got soft fine hair, just lots of it!" He wasn't being critical he just felt the need to explain why the process took awhile, "So what do you think sweetie?" He asked expectantly.

She raised a manicured hand up to her long copper red locks. He hadn't changed her hair much but the minimal styling helped her loose waves lay more evenly. The trim left her hair hanging to her waist, the layers helped to lighten the style so it could bounce. The true astonishment was how he enhanced her features with his brushes and powders. The subtle plum color of her eye shadow may her green eyes pop. She pondered this, maybe because they were almost complementary colors? She thought her watercolor lessons could prove to be useful elsewhere. Her heavily lashed eyes were enhanced with darker mascara and liners. A touch of peachy colored lip balm, slightly more vibrant than her natural lips, helped accentuate her cupid's bow and full bottom lip. His full mouth glistened slightly like she had just had a strawberry ice pop. She blushed slightly; she couldn't believe how sexy she looked.

"... And that honey is why you don't even need a dab of rouge! That fair skin of yours is straight-up golden cream!" Daniel beamed

"Thank you so much Danny! I've never looked so good... Do you think he'll like me?" Amarie was nervous about meeting her Commandant today; she kept repeating the name Eric Foster in her head.

"Baby Doll, I only amped up what you already had... and you know he already likes you! He chose you didn't he?"

Amarie smiled, that was true. However little she knew about him, he knew everything about her. If at any point he decided she was unsatisfactory he could have bought his way out of the contract. She lifted her chin trying to provide a better show of confidence. She let loose a radiant smile.

"I think I'm ready," she stated finally.

"You only have to head to the boutique for your D-Day outfit and accessories and you'll be set!"

"Thank you so much Danny, I'll miss you!" She had a quick thought, "No one else has ever cut my hair..... What am I going to do?"

"Honey, we have connections everywhere. You may be leavin' us but we will still be watchin' out for you."

Amarie gave Danny the standard goodbye wave. In the Consortium, only certain members of staff were allowed to touch Complements in a social manner. Hair stylists didn't qualify. Socializing and occasional platonic touching was allowed among Complements. Each Complement also had a Matron who was largely responsible for the Complement's personal care and served the role of replacement mother. Of course, all interaction happened under direct camera supervision. The Mistress was always watching. Amarie took comfort in the fact that she was always protected here. She has a small flash of being small, neglected, and hungry. She shook her head. No use in dwelling in the past.

As Amarie made her way down the winding passages towards the boutique, she pondered over the changes in her existence over the last two years. Once she had been chosen, she was separated from a majority of the other girls in her age group. Being in the "Naïves" group meant life didn't change all that much. It was the smallest class of Complements; therefore, the number of peers was greatly diminished. She had received basic sexual education that, apparently, outside children learned at a fairly young age. Slowly, her Matron Melanie started teaching her the Consortium grooming regimen and eventually became totally absent. Amarie now knew how to take care of herself. She was also largely alone.

She had undergone several extensive beautifying treatments over the past year. Some of these, like permanent body hair removal, weren't all that pleasant. Although, she was quite relieved that she was no longer responsible for the tedious upkeep anymore. This also gave her a clue that her Commandant was very affluent to afford this Complement option. Her living situation should be more than satisfactory.

As she passed a room with a plexi-glass viewing window she stopped momentarily. Her friend Bridgette was inside the gymnastics room. Her recent hair cut suited the sharp angle of her jaw. Her bright blond hair was cut into a messy pixie style. Bridgette noticed Amarie at the glass and waved from across the room. Quickly, with intense focus, Bridgette began running full speed toward the springboard. She launched herself into air, pushed off the vault, and did a complex sequence of turns before solidly sticking the landing. Bridgette smiled up at the control room; she must have expected her Commandant had come by for a check-up.

Amarie continued her walk to the boutique. She envied Bridgette. She envied her strength, how she excelled at her chosen skill, and ultimately her confidence. In contrast, Amarie was quite adept in most skills, never really excelled in anything particular. She did have an above average skill in art which she enjoyed. It helped balance her when she was feeling alone or tense. Something about watercolor really spoke to her. The colors, so delicately fragile, could be coaxed into being vibrant. The paints could be mixed and layered to give compelling and unique effects. However, if you tried too hard to work against the nature of the paint, it could become muddled and indistinguishable and ultimately ended in disaster. Caught up in her internal musings, Amarie collided into one of the male guards.

"I beg your pardon Sir, I was daydreaming and wasn't watching where I was going," Amarie looked up realizing it was THAT guard, the one that made her uncomfortable.

Hank had been working here for the last year. Of all the beautiful eye candy at his disposal Amarie was most definitely his favorite to mess with. She was so shy and easily ruffled and entirely too good to pass up. He had intentionally walked on the wrong side of the hallway to instigate an interaction. He just needed and excuse for their bodies to brush.

"It's no problem Amarie; you just need to watch where you are going." He looked her up and down, licked his lips, and lowered his mouth to her ear whispering, "I would love to bump up against you all night long... Just tell me when and where."

He had grasped her shoulders as to appear to be pushing her away, yet he held on. He knew this area of the hall had limited camera angles. His hulking body would be blocking most of his actions. He looked down to get an eyeful of her round and firm breasts swaddled by the soft loose material of the Consortium tunic. He ran his large hands down her upper arms. With his thumbs extended he was able graze the tips of her breasts beneath the fabric. Amarie's eyes widened in shock. She had never been touched this way; she wasn't supposed to be touched this way. Her nipples hardened with a soft ache that traveled to a much lower area causing her to gasp. From afar it looked like he may be soothing her after their accident. Amarie looked up at the huge man, with frightened eyes. This only served to whet Hank's lust. He leaned over her to block her face from the camera; quickly covering her mouth he savagely pinched her right nipple. Amarie squealed against his hand, her knees buckled slightly. Hank groaned and lowered his mouth so his cracked lips grazed her ear.

"If I thought I could get away with it... I rip off this poor excuse for clothing, slam you against this wall, and rip open that tight virgin pussy until you were screamin' for me. We'd see if your fancy Commandant would want you then."

Amarie whimpered against his hand. She had no clue what to do. He was making her body feel strange things, but she didn't want this. She didn't want him. He was disgusting, savage, and was just.... a bully. At this point, Hank pressed his body against hers. She could feel what she could only assume was his erection against her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and just hoped, hoped that something would happen or someone would help her.

She heard something, a clicking sound, surely this was an auditory hallucination of the metaphorical clock ticking away her last moments of value. Amarie started to succumb, falling back on her passivity until she heard a different sound. That was most definitely the sound of someone clearing their throat. She opened her eyes just in time to see Hank jump back from her like she was made of hot coals. Mistress was standing right beside him, and though she was shorter he definitely cowered. Rage filled her eyes, she was seething with hatred. Clad in tight leather leggings, black ankle boots, a structured top, and a severely red lip... She looked like some type of futuristic warrior. She had a strange stubby cylindrical object in her hand. Her knees were bent, her back slightly crouched, her elbow at an angle with fists clenched. Mistress looked like she about to lunge like a jungle cat.

"What, may I ask, were you attempting to do to Amarie?" Mistress all but growled.

Hank stammered, "I... Well you see..."

That's all he had a chance to say. Mistress, with a slight flick of the wrist, extended the cylinder in to a metal baton with a decisive snap. She took two steps toward Hank. At that moment, a firm hand seized Amarie's and pulled her into an impromptu Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers move. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her toward his broad chest as she shook with fear. He took one large hand and placed it gently over her ear trying to rest her head and calm her fears. She shook his hand loose trying to look up at the man holding her. She stilled, caught up in the steely gaze of the two most piercing grey eyes she had ever saw. She was immobilized like some strong magnetic force had hold of her. It was then that two gut-wrenching cracking sounds echoed through the hall. With that last bit of sensory overload, Amarie lost consciousness.