The Forever Hangover

"Hurry girls!" exclaimed Andrea.

**

"This is why you come early," stated the middle-aged millionaire to another bidder on the floor. The other bidder had purchased a succulent redhead and was congratulating the older man on his purchase of the phenomenally striking black-tressed vixen.

"Amen to that, Sir. Bidding in person is so much better than telepresence, you just can't beat the live experience!"

The two well-togged men exchanged business cards and then prepared to collar and claim their purchases.

**

"Stay away from me!" squealed Marla.

The older man laughed.

"You'll soon see the light fair one."

He nodded to the bruisers on the sales floor. Without fuss, two hulking men pinioned Marla and allowed the businessman to slide the chromium and leather collar around her slim neck. Once it locked in place, it synchronized with the nanobots already in her system. Marla felt lightheaded for a moment then all fight left her.

"There. Now that wasn't so bad was it, lovely one?"

The businessman clipped a leash to the girl's collar.

"I shall call you Ivory, because of your exceptionally fair skin. You shall address me always as Master. Is that clear?"

Marla, her brain a muddle from the nanobots targeting the centers for independent thought, simply nodded her assent.

"Splendid!" said the man who called himself Master as he tugged gently on the leash and led the now unresisting girl away.

**

"Oh, my God! What are we going to tell Richard?" stated Claire.

"The truth," said Andrea.

"He'll kill us!" said Claire

"Andrea, Claire, we're all going to have to blow him at a minimum."

"I don't think that's going to be enough, Phee."

"Yeah, I know. I for one will be greasing up my asshole as well."

"Gross!"

"We'll be lucky if he doesn't sue our asses off."

"Maybe, if we offered him a three-way with all of us, he won't sic the lawyers on us."

"Blow Richard? Fuck, Richard?"

"Yeah, not my idea of a good time but what else do we have to bargain with?"

"Poor us."

"No, poor Marla."

"Yeah, poor Marla," the three said as one.

**

Wearing the complementary sandals and short silken robe bearing the Slave Shack logo and web address, the Master led Marla to the backseat of a limousine. Things were starting to fall into place for the befuddled young woman. Summoning rage or tears was short-circuited by her collar and nanobots. She understood that this man had just purchased her. She recalled it all, but angst simply would not come.

She tried to recall the documentaries and news clips she had seen regarding modern slavery--something about tiny robots in the bloodstream and the collar working in cahoots.

"That shot!" her mind lit with remembrance. This was quickly followed by recollections of Richard, her courtship, her wedding dress, and the planned honeymoon in Hawaii! The hen party! What had happened to Claire, Andrea, and Phoebe? Were they slaves now as well? Was the Slave Shack a front for something even seedier than advertised? Could Richard sue to get her back? In the meantime, she was property (Shudder!) of the man sitting next to her pouring champagne. It was a waking nightmare! Why didn't she feel the horror?

"I know what your thinking," said the man. "In general, at any rate."

He handed her a flute of Champagne and clinked his glass against hers before taking a sip.

"The reason your thoughts are jumbled, and your emotions are flat is because there is a period of time while your mind acclimates to the nanobots in your bloodstream as regulated by the collar. It dulls the senses and creates a bland effect. This should pass in no more than a few hours. During that time, we can get to know each other and settle into a routine.

I understand the return of full faculties hits with the subtly of a sledgehammer. I'll be there to prop you up and hold your hand at the time. So long as you are compliant, eager to please, and civil of tongue, we will get along swimmingly."

More out of reflex than anything else, Marla took a sip of the bubbly. She completely comprehended what he had said. She had no doubt that his words were factual. She gazed into his face. It wasn't a bad face; indeed, it was a handsome one.

"Now Ivory, I am going to issue your first order. Since the moment I first spied you, I've ached to find out what those beautiful carmine lips taste like. Kiss me, Ivory."

The naturally shy girl was reluctant, but her collar buzzed and slightly constricted and Marla realized that the order was expected to be obeyed. She tilted her head up and allowed the older man to place his lips against hers.

Much to Marla's surprise, the kiss was quite nice. Not like Richard's, of course, but still very nice. The limousine rolled on until it reached the airport.

"One day soon, we will return to Las Vegas so that I can test how much of a good luck charm you are at the gambling tables. Right now, however, we are flying home."

"Home?" echoed the girl.

"Of course, I like Las Vegas a great deal but living here when I can have an ocean view? Please!"

Marla felt her fog lifting.

"Please sir," she said, "My Name is Marla Perkins, and I am the fiancée of Richard Snow. I went to the Slave Shack last night as a lark with my bridesmaids. For some reason they abandoned me, and I ended up being sold to you. I'm not really supposed to be a slave. You see in a few months. I'm supposed to walk down the aisle."

The handsome man's countenance took on a bemused expression.

"Now why would you want to do something as monumentally foolish as marrying when you can be so much more as a slave than any wife has ever been or will ever be?"

"But I love Richard and I want to spend the rest of my life with him!"

"Ivory. You belong to me. I can provide you with a life you could only have imagined. Sensual luxury and decadence that storybook princesses would envy."

"But..."

"But nothing. In the not-too-distant future, you will write thank you letter to your bridesmaids for their stunt."

"Sir! I find that hard to believe. All I ever wanted was a simple life, a small suburban house with a garden and a couple of kids."

"I'm sure that is what you thought you wanted, Ivory. It isn't as you will soon learn."

"But."

"Less talky more kissy!"

His lips were against hers once more, firm, insistent, remarkable. The memory of Richard's kisses suddenly grew fuzzy in Maria's mind.

"We will discuss this further on the plane."

The chauffeur opened the door on the businessman's side. He in turn took Marla by the hand and led her out onto the tarmac. She absentmindedly sipped from her champagne glass as she walked hand in hand with him to the steps of a private Lear Jet. The door closed behind them. The pretty stewardess in the short blue dress looked at Marla quizzically, then was completely professional.

The businessman settled Marla on a comfortable couch and instructed the stewardess to prepare lunch. The pretty blonde stewardess hastened to fulfill the order. The jet began taxiing down the runway. Marla felt her tummy tumble as the plane rose in the air. Suddenly, she knew with utter conviction that she would never see Richard again. The desert of the American southwest unspooled beneath her, amazingly beautiful. Marla however shivered, and not from the over-cranked air conditioning of the cabin. The Master was content to allow his new acquisition to muse for a few moments. Best to break her in slowly, but not too slowly.

The blue-clad air hostess returned with lunch. To Marla, who hadn't eaten for close to twelve hours, it smelled especially heavenly. The cover lifted revealing a masterpiece. Marla's mouth watered.

"I have a private chef. He prepares all my meals. In this case, they were made ahead. Enjoy!"

Marla took up her spoon and dug in. Her tastebuds lit up in a way they never had before. The flute of champagne was replaced by a stem of sweet wine. Lost is gustatory delight, for the moment, Marla forgot the collar around her neck.

"Did you enjoy your meal, Ivory?" he asked once she finished.

"Yes, Sir!" she replied happily.

"A kiss of appreciation would be nice."

He sidled up to her and gently hosted her in the air before placing her upon his lap. Perhaps it simply was satisfaction with the meal, perhaps it was too much wine following champagne on an empty stomach, or perhaps it was the altitude. Whatever it was, Marla found herself opening to this older, handsome stranger. She kissed him quite deeply, far more deeply than previously. The interior of the plane seemed to spin and flicker around her. Everything was so heady. His hands were inside her robe, gently tweaking her nipples. His hands were tracing along her delicate rib cage. He stroked her thighs, her radically trimmed bush. Suddenly he was inside her, his fingers gently stroking and probing. Marla realized that this older man knew exactly what he was doing. Richard's hands were far less gifted. He worked the robe off. Once more she was naked before him. This time without the shame and embarrassment. Through some act of legerdemain, he had worked open his fly. Manipulating her ever so slightly, he slid his not unsubstantial cock into her tight moist quim. Marla gasped. He muscled her up and down. His lips were on her lips. His hands were in her hair. She was somewhere else. Suddenly, she was in the here and now as she came while he emptied himself deep inside her womb.

"Oh, God!" she cried as she collapsed against him.

"Welcome to the Mile High Club, Ivory!" he replied with a chuckle.

Marla gasped and leaned against her owner. Fate chose that moment for the lag effect of the nanobots to fade. A titanic headache descended upon Ivory. She grabbed her head and said, "OW!" The master kissed her in the center of her forehead and gestured to the steward. She returned post haste with a syringe. Lost in pain, Marla did not feel the needle slide into her butt. Instantly, the pain left the afflicted woman. She sighed.

"All better?" inquired the Master.

"Uh huh!" she replied.

"I'll take care of you always, Ivory. In every way you can imagine."

To the still somewhat frightened and shy girl, his words had a profound impact, she knew that this man had spoken an absolute truth. Involuntarily, she snuggled even closer to him.

They exited the plane hours later, on the easternmost tip of Long Island, New York. Sea birds soared above and a warm, yet still much cooler breeze than that of Las Vegas greeted them. Marla's nipples puckered behind the thin fabric of her robe. The Master threw his arm over her shoulder and led her to a chauffeur driven Mercedes.

"Something as beautiful as you should only be surrounded by luxury. When you wear clothes, they will be elite designer labels always. You are a fine piece of art and should be framed accordingly. Right now, we are off to my beach mansion. You can freshen up and we can take in the sunset."

She set next to him and a short time later they left the confines of the airport and rolled down the quiet streets. The journey ended at a massive home atop the dunes. The sight took Marla's breath away. The thought of living in a place like this had tremendous appeal, even as property. Marla loved the ocean above all things. Her oh-too-rare trips to the seaside were her favorite vacations as a child. Her parents hadn't much money, but they were able to provide two weeks by the sea most years. In high school, Marla took summer jobs that paid just a bit more than the cost of renting a room from a wealthy beach family just to be exposed to the salt spray and sand. Richard had impressed her by taking her to the beach on one of their first dates. The month-long honeymoon in Hawaii was the inevitable result of all that. After the honeymoon, it would be back to the office and living in Richard's tiny apartment. At least it would have been.

Marla's thoughts turned towards Richard. Surely, he must know what had happened to her by now. Was he even now trying to move heaven and earth to retrieve her? Would there be a huge financial settlement with the Slave Shack? Would it be large enough for Richard and Marla to retire all their bills and buy a little beach cottage of their own?

The gentle tug on her elbow brought Marla out of her reverie.

"You should see the inside."

***

"You did what!" Richard's voice exploded from the phone.

"We didn't mean it to happen, Richard," offered Phoebe lamely, "It was just supposed to be a joke."

"A joke! What kind of friends are you three?"

"We all overslept..."

"That's your excuse? What the fuck were you doing? My fiancée is being raped and degraded even as we speak! If I could reach through this phone..."

"It was a lark gone bad."

"No, a lark gone bad is a bent fender or a broken arm, this is vile and disgusting. What did Marla ever do to you?"

"Richard..."

"Shut it! I'm calling a lawyer and I'll be on the first flight to Vegas. You three idiots stay there until I get there. I don't care if you have to move to some fleabag hotel to wait or if any of you bitches lose your jobs back here. I warn you now, I will be just as angry when I get there as I am now!"

With an angry expletive, the line went dead.

"Well, that went well," offered Andrea.

"Can it! We are in serious trouble here!" input Claire.

"I can't say as I blame him," said Phoebe. We really are rotten friends."

"It's Marla's fault for being such a stick in the mud," tried Andrea lamely.

"If we say THAT to Richard, the Las Vegas Police Department will have three homicides on its hands," said Claire.

"Maybe that is the best solution all around," opined Andrea.

"Girls, we're looking at this the wrong way. Remember? Being upset and frazzled will do no one favors, least of all Marla. We need to greet Richard contritely, offer to let him cry on our shoulders, and commiserate with him. If he has a warm body to snuggle against, soft lips to kiss, and a willing body to caress, his rage will leave him in an entirely different way."

"You mean?"

"Yep, we're drawing straws to see who gets to console Richard. He will need everything, kisses, hugs, BJ, anal, and vaginal. He has to be completely spent."

"Gross!"

"The alternative is a lot of screaming and yelling and probably punches thrown and the police called."

"We don't have to draw straws," said Andrea firmly. "You're going to be Mata Hari, Phee."

"Yeah, you are the one who cut off her wristband!" added Claire. "Marla's in this fix because of you! That means YOU have to let Richard go balls deep in YOUR kitty!"

"Yeah, that's only fair," added Andrea.

Phoebe ran a hand through her hair, "God, Richard is such a dweeb!"

"Then you shouldn't have any trouble seducing him!"

***

The inside of the house reminded Marla of the spread in "Architectural Digest" magazine. Open spaces, expensive furniture, recognizable art on the walls that were clearly originals, all of it as tasteful as could be. There were servants who seemed oblivious to Marla's collar and brief attire. The now-setting sun cast a golden hue through the bayside windows. The thick carpeting felt divine under her feet. There was a simple tour; the living room, the dining room, his office, the wraparound porch, the jacuzzi, and pool, and lastly, expected, but no longer dreaded his bedroom.

He closed and locked the door behind them.

"Lose the robe, Ivory."

It fluttered to the floor.

"Undress me, Ivory."

She reached for his tie.

He bent in to steal a kiss.

She turned her lips upwards.

The knot in the tie was undone. She unbuttoned his collar and helped him shrug off the jacket. His crisp white oxford was made of silk. It felt wonderful under her fingers. She opened the buttons one by one. He had a hairy chest! It was a feature she adored in men. Richard was smooth-chested. That didn't matter she told herself. The crisp white shirt was off. For an older guy, he was nicely muscled. Nice pecs, nice biceps, no belly definition but also no sag. No beer gut.

He clasped herself to him. The sensation of his chest hair on her sensitive nipples was a trip. She broke off the clinch, smiled, and placed her hands on the buckle of the alligator skin belt.

He grinned right back at her. He had so many plans for this girl. So much training to do. Eventually, she'd be a corporate spy, loaned to men of interest for a week or two and then returned to him with a head full of reconnaissance. She'd be his lucky charm at high-stakes poker games, exchanging articles of her clothing for chips or simply to distract his opponents. She'd be his arm candy to the opera, Broadway shows, and charity events. Most of all, she'd be what she was now, his willing, never-tiring fuck toy. As wonderful as any classic automobile, but lots more fun to ride.

His pants and silken boxers were at his ankles.

That's not a bad cock, she thought.

"Taste me, Ivory."

She fell to her knees. out of her view, he fingered her controller, elevating her natural feeling of euphoria. She took a tentative lick of his manhood; then several that were anything but tentative. Her mouth encircled his cock. her pretty head slid back and forth. The controller was set so that his cum would react like cocaine on her tongue, hooking her almost immediately. In less than a week's time, she'd almost literally be able to suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. Whoever this lovely creature had been before he purchased her, whatever her memories, talents, passions, and loves, would all be erased and replaced with his desires and his training, his needs, and his skills, and an overarching devotion to him. Who needed love? Currently, she was raw material, clay to mold. He knew he was a talented sculptor. The first part was the easiest. All she'd want is cock all the time. She would do anything to get it. Already the businessman knew he would have to fit her with a chastity device, lest she turn to the hired help for relief. As they say, "It is good to be king."

***

Clare, Andrea, Phoebe, Richard, and the lawyer exited the offices of the Slave Shack.

"As I told you Mr. Snow, the chances of getting Marla back are essentially nil. It didn't matter that she'd been drinking, the sensor in the consent box she signed proves she was under the limit."

"We thought those forms were just a formality," said Andrea.

"Yes, I'm sure they tell everyone that. I'm a lawyer. I don't even click the yes box on an end-user agreement on ANY software until I've read the thing five times."

"Well, can't we get them on fraud?"

"Mr. Snow, let me explain again that Slave Shack's lawyers make Disney's lawyers look like McClintock! Every sharp Ivy League lawyer who doesn't want to become a supreme court justice wants to be a Slave Shack litigator. Be grateful we were able to get your fiancée's effects back."

"But there must be something we can do!" said Richard in an angst-ridden voice.

"You COULD buy her back."

"Mr. Landers, you saw the figure they sold, Marla for. Where am I going to get that kind of money? How would we find her anyway? All they said is when and for how much she sold, they refuse to name who bought her!"

"That is their legal right, Mr. Snow. To find her, you could hire a detective. It will take even the best of those some time to track Marla down."

"But by that time..."

"Best not dwell on it, Richard," said the lawyer in a consoling manner.

Richard Snow sighed and gazed in the bag that contained Marla's clothes and jewelry. Her engagement ring had been placed in a small black velvet box. He opened the box and the diamond sparkled under the harsh lighting of the Slave Shack foyer. What did it represent now?

Phoebe lightly touched his arm. Richard looked up at her. She seemed especially lovely this evening.

"You can stay mad at us, Richard or you can focus your anger where it really matters, with the Slave Shack. What happened to Marla could have happened to all of us! Now, wouldn't THAT be tragic?" As she said the last sentence a slight tremor traveled through her body, most evident in her ample breasts that were practically spilling out of her dress.