Short Sale
Chapter 7: Balancing the Books
“I obey”, said the dark-skinned young slave that had spent the last two hours holding the inducer into the man’s face. She stepped away and placed it into a briefcase with tailor-made foam slots that it fit snugly into, then closed it with a sharp snap.
Tom groaned. “What…” he said, slowly regaining consciousness.
One more toy to be played with, slave Cora thought. Not a slave, but just as controlled and helpless as we were.
“I’m going to step back and enjoy the show,” Mistress said, smiling ear to ear. “Slave Cora, Slave Simone. You have reins over slave 1570—do with her what you want, as long as it’s what I want.”
“Yes, Mistress,” they both said, then looked at each other like two children in an unsupervised candy store.
“Simone… what’s happening? Why are you naked? Why… Cora? Schatz, du—”
“You bought my mother,” slave Cora said.
“Oh God, you’re naked, too! What the fuck is going on?!”
“You bought my mother,” slave Cora said, patiently repeating, like she was speaking to a child.
“What the fuck are you talking about?! What is happening? Who are these people?!” Tom said, trying to look away from his naked daughter.
“She knows, Tom,” slave Simone said, reaching her arm around slave Cora’s waist in a sideways embrace. “She found out.”
“How?! You’re both supposed to be in Vermont!” he screamed, confused and scared. His gaze was darting around the room. Maybe he was trying to find anything that made sense to him. Maybe he was looking for a way to escape.
“I found your correspondence with Mistress Beatrice Duke.”
Something strange flickered across his face as he processed that piece of information. Slave Cora imagined that it was the cognitive dissonance of knowing Mistress and not knowing her at the same time. She was curious to see how it would resolve.
“Oh,” he said, and blinked, and looked at Mistress as if he’d only just noticed her. “Hello, Miss Duke, I…” he stammered, fishing for words, grasping for understanding as his suggestion-riddled mind tried to find a way it could fulfill all of its constraints in this situation.
“You enslaved them,” he said finally, his voice thin with disbelieve and heavy as lead. “You just… took them. You… it… it was an accident—you know it was. I didn’t break the deal.”
He winced.
“No one has to know. I can make this go away. I’ll do anything.”
Mistress was smiling mildly. She said nothing in reply.
“She can do whatever she wants to us,” slave Simone answered instead. “Who would stop her?”
“But—we had a deal…”
“Deals are for people who care more about playing fair than playing to win,” slave Cora said. “Mistress takes what she wants, because she can.”
“Cora, I’m so sorry. I should have told you. You would’ve understood.”
Slave Cora chuckled, looking introspective for a moment, then nodded.
“The tragic thing is… you’re probably right. I would have understood. I would have been shocked and disillusioned, but grateful for what you did, freeing my mother.”
She smiled.
“Now I’m only grateful that I can show you just how badly you fucked up protecting me from all of this. I’m a slave. We’re all slaves!”
“But… you’re… you! You’re not mindless! You’re Cora! You’re my daughter!”
Slave Cora laughed out loud.
“Ahahaha, fuck yes… thank you! Thank you so much for saying that!” she howled. “Yes! Look at me! Look at your ‘daughter’!”
She dragged her hand down her torso, between her breasts, down into the stubble on her mons.
“I’ll never go to Brighton College. I’ll never have a job, or friends. I don’t want to. I’ll never meet a cute boy, fall in love and break up. I’ll never find someone that’s good to me, someone that cares and that treats me like you want. I don’t want to! I have been enslaved! What I want is to give my body to anyone Mistress tells me, because that’s what I am: A piece of property. Something that just anyone can use.”
She gently brushed the top of her pussy and moaned softly.
“I want to be fucked, Papa. I want to obey. I want to be used. I want all of this! This is who I am! This is who I always was—I just didn’t know it yet. I was cattle, and now I’ve finally gone to market.”
“And I gave her away like the peace of meat she is,” slave Simone said proudly, excitedly. “Look at her! Look at our daughter. Look how wet she is. How willing she is to offer all of her holes. She’s obedient now. I watched her cum from it, Tom. I watched how the wetness dripped down between her spread legs when she became a slave.”
“Please,” Tom said. “…stop.” His eyes were screwed shut tight.
“Don’t you think she’s sexy?” slave Simone asked mockingly. “You used to like fucking slaves like her when we were her age. You fucked slave 34 three times in one night, and you fucked me for weeks before you decided to have me to yourself.”
“I didn’t want to own you—”
“—but you still bought me, and had me implanted with post-hypnotic suggestions to love you, and be grateful.”
Tom swallowed hard.
“Yes,” slave Simone continued. “I realized what you had done when Mistress enslaved me again today and my old programming was replaced with better one. I was never really free. My mind has never been anything more than something others controlled.”
She smiled a satisfied smile.
“But I don’t blame you. It’s what I’m made for. It’s what I deserve. It’s what I want!”
She chuckled softly.
“I think it’s hot, actually: You, fucking slaves. You love fucking slaves, and you had to give that up for me. You only ever got to fuck me for all that time. You must have really cared about me to deprive yourself of something so good.”
She looked over to the young slave that used to be her daughter’s best friend.
“Slave 1570, give him what he loves. Suck his cock and swallow his cum.”
“Yes,” slave 1570 said, immediately going to her knees, crawling towards Tom, reaching out and undoing his belt.
“I can’t move!” Tom screamed.
“Because you’re controlled,” slave Cora said, letting the delicious word hang in the air before continuing. “Like Mama. Like me. Like this sexy slave. You don’t recognize her, do you? You’ve been told to think you haven’t seen her. Look again!”
He did, and his pain-stricken face turned a deeper shade of desperate.
“Iris?”
Slave Cora drew in a sharp, excited breath. Slave 1570 didn’t react at all. She didn’t recognize that name. She didn’t know who it was, because that person no longer existed. Instead, she pulled out Tom’s cock and took it in her mouth and started gyrating her head around it. Slave Cora could hear her slurping. It made her hot.
She slowly pushed her finger down between her legs, splitting apart her moist lips, glancing over her shoulder, seeking Mistress’s permission and finding it before continuing.
“Look at my wet slave cunt, Papa,” she said. Her father had closed his eyes again. “It feels so good when I rub it and fuck myself, all naked and wet. My tits feels so heavy right now. I want someone to touch them! Mama, will you squeeze my tits and suck my nipples as I finger myself?”
Her father groaned. She honestly couldn’t tell if it was from involuntary pleasure or from disgust. She didn’t care. This wasn’t about him. This was about the rest of them. He was their toy.
“Yes, Cora,” slave Simone said, and knelt down, cupping slave Cora’s erect nipple with her mouth, pushing and tweaking it with her tongue, gently biting down on it. Her hands squeezed and touched the rest of her daughter’s perfect slave body. Such an obedient, shameless slut. She was proud to have produced such a perfect slave.
“Ja, Mama! Fester! Lutsch mich fester!” slave Cora said. Yes! Lick me harder! Slave Simone did what slave Cora told her, and the tingling in the tips of her breasts intensified with a feeling of wet, hot pleasure.
“I am a slave. You know I need to be fucked. Slaves need to be fucked. I will be fucked so much. Like slave 1570. The slave that we turned Iris into.”
She looked
down at the back of slave 1570’s head. Her blonde hair was matted and drenched with sweat as it swayed back and forth in loose, messy strands.
“Is she good with her mouth?” slave Cora asked. “Does it feel as good as when Mama did it? Does she feel as good to fuck as the other slaves you’ve had? She’s still so young. She’ll need practice. She’ll have to be trained a lot.”
Slave Simone pulled away from slave Cora’s nipples with a wet noise.
“Cora, too,” she said. “ She’s going to have to learn how to suck someone off properly. She’s going to have to learn how to lick pussy. She’s going to have to learn how to take it in the ass.”
Slave Cora moaned in response.
“Yes! I’ll be so good at it. I want to be the best slave I can be. I want to make them cum into me and onto me. I want to be so good that they fall in love with me, and offer to buy me, to free me, and have me as their wife. I want to be as good as that!”
“But you’ll never be free,” slave Simone said. Her hands, too, had found the way between the dripping wet folds of her pussy, and she was stroking herself as she spoke.
“You’ll never be anything but a willing, eager slave!”
“Yes,” slave Cora said. She was no longer paying attention to her father. Instead, she was captivated by the hot, surreal image of slave Simone. “Yes!” she moaned and reached between her mother’s legs, pushing away the hand that was there already, replacing it with her own. “Only fucking and obeying”, she said, rubbing her clit with one hand and pressing down on slave Simone’s nub with the other, stroking, pushing, dragging it through the wetness in the same rhythm.
“We’re the same,” she said, and shivered when she felt her mother’s muscles contract around her finger. “We’re obedient slaves!
“Come for me, Mama! You made me a slave! I’m a slave! Only a slave! Nothing but property. Nothing but a couple of warm holes ready to be fucked. Cora obeys. Cora is a slave.”
“Cora is a slave,” her mother whimpered, her breathing shallow. She was mewling like a bitch in heat. “Cora is a slave!”
Slave Cora didn’t even know who she was speaking to anymore. Her father? Her mother? Herself? Probably all of them. “Yes!”, she said, to make herself think it, to make her mother think it, to make everyone know it. “I am a slave. Obedient. Willing!”
Slave Simone screamed as her daughter made her come, and that drove slave Cora over the edge, too, and she lost herself in the searing pleasure, clasping her arms around the hot, slick body next to her, kissing it, gyrating and bucking against it, feeling it so closely and intimately and lovingly in this moment of hot obedience. Obedience was pleasure. Pleasure was obedience!
They came down slowly, untangling only reluctantly. They knew that they had obeyed, and slave Cora felt happy and warm and satisfied. But also, she could already feel the need to serve return like an eager puppy retrieving their favorite stick.
A low groan told them Tom was still getting his dick sucked by slave 1570. He was panting, and slave Cora could see him try to control the spasms of intense pleasure. It seemed like Iris had some experiences that she hadn’t shared with Cora when she was still around. Experiences that her stripped, enslaved mind was now putting to use.
“Fuck,” her father mumbled under his breath, obviously trying to ignore the pleasure. “Fuck, oh God, fuck…”
“He’s going to come soon,” slave Simone said quietly, smiling knowingly.
Slave Cora watched with morbid fascination. She was torn between the thrilling perversion of it and the deep-seated aversion to thinking of her dad sexually. She was so glad that this wasn’t true with her mother. With her, it had been the other way around. The fact that slave Simone was her mother only made her hotter. And that, in turn—knowing that she’d been made to feel that way about her own mother—made her fall in love with her obedience even more.
They watched him struggle for another couple of minutes, until slave 1570 finally made him get off. His moan was high-pitched, uncontrolled, and ended in a sigh and a sob. Having achieved what she’d been commanded to do, the young blonde slave stood up unceremoniously, and slave Cora could see her swallow the cum in her mouth, then lick her lips clean. Her eyes were thoughtless.
“I obey” said the slave in an understated monotone.
“You may come,” said Mistress, and the slave girl shivered, blushing deeply but otherwise behaving as she came.
“Thank you Mistress,” she said a short moment later, and returned to the spot she’d been created twenty minutes ago.
“Please…” Tom said, weakly panting, “what are you going to do to me now? I have nothing left. I—”
“Deletion Code sigma-kappa 24” Mistress said.
Her father’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging ajar. Slave Cora thought she could see his pupils visibly dilate. Then, all concern, and all other emotion vanished from his face like ripples dispersing in still water.
“Yes,” he said, his voice just as blank and emotionless as slave 1570’s had been.
“I must forget.”
“The good part is over,” Mistress said. All slave’s attention turned away from the enslaved man back where it belonged. “Thank you for your service, Tom. You’re not needed any longer.”
Yes, slave Cora thought. Mistress was right. Nothing he could have said would have been of any worth. He was done. He would serve Mistress in the way he’d been programmed to.
Mistress clapped her hands.
“Well, well, well,” she said, surveying what she had wrought. “Very good!”
Three fresh, naked slaves and one pitiful entranced half-naked man, surrounded by the entourage of tightly dressed muscle-bound slaves that she’d used to execute this snatch-job. Again, everything had worked out in her favor.
She was pleased with herself. It wasn’t every day that she got to have this much fun. Most days were spent acquiring, training, and selling a never-ending stream of seemingly identical beautiful women. It was strangely tiring to have them service her as their numbers climbed and climbed.
She still loved it of course, but even the most fulfilling of vocations would eventually become routine. She cherished these moments when she felt like she’d gone back in time, to the days when the enslaved minds of her toys had still been an unexplored country—back when every new acquisition had been exciting and risky.
To keep this batch under covers would require all the tricks and strings that she could pull, but the thrill of it was worth it. She hadn’t been this excited to have a slave between her legs in a long, long time. This one had been special. Not because of Cora, even if she was probably the greatest catch she’d made in a couple of years.
No. She had enslaved dozens of one-in-a-million girls like her. One of them was slave 251. Her Name had been Anna, or Amelia, or something like that. She’d been offered full scholarships both at Harvard and Cambridge, but she’d chosen to go to Juilliard instead to play the violin and to become a classical composer.
Beatrice still had her practice her instrument in her slave quarters, and often let her play at slave auctions to class it up and to demonstrate how her slave stock could be used for more than just sex. Still, there was always one guest who wanted to fuck the violinist at the end of the evening, and they were always willing to pay the price she was worth.
No. Slave Cora wasn’t what was special about today. She would make one triple-prime slave among many. Today had been special because of the games she had been able to play.
She loved playing games.
And these days, she felt like she’d seen all the moves, went through every scenario and permutation: Sisters. Roommates. Colleagues. Rivals. Lovers. Ex-Lovers. Even mothers and daughters, occasionally—if the mother was young enough. Some of them were fighters, and some were quitters. She’d seen cheaters, she’d seen beggars. She’d seen stoics, and whiners, and fatalists. She’d even seen fetishists. That one had been a surprise the first time it happened. Somehow she’d thought she was the only one.
She’d seen it all, it seemed. But every now and again, she got to have something special: Re-enslaving one of her very first slaves, then her daughter, and her daughter’s best friend, all while the husband was present? That kind of opportunity was why she was still doing this. Well… that, and the endless sexual thrill of it.
Her slaves watched her reverently. She was still deciding whether or not to separate slaves Cora and slave Simone. Cora was definitely going to be one of her bed slaves. And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted slave Simone to join her. She
would be able to teach her so many tricks.
Yes, that was definitely going to happen. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
Slave 1570, she wouldn’t even get a taste of before sending her to Antigua. She was a numbered slave: Cheap product, for stingy or less liquid customers, or for those who got off on absolute dominance and couldn’t bear having an actually willing slave.
The truth was that, by now, making willing slaves had actually become less involved than making numbered ones. But it happened to be the case that there was still a market for them. And who was she to discontinue a product that saw demand and sold at profit?
But she hadn’t made a numbered slave for herself in years, not counting house staff and security. Numbered bed slaves could only give her mindless sex, and she’d come to appreciate having someone to talk to after—someone that shared her world view. Someone that—if asked to—could actually hold a conversation.
She still used numbered slaves for sex if she found one particularly desirable, but those were mostly one-time affairs—a quick fuck before she sold them off. The thrill of seeing their mindless eyes as they sucked her pussy had worn off over the years. They all looked the same, now.
…Maybe she’d grown more mature with the years. Maybe she’d pick just one slave one day, and stick with her. Maybe she’d stop all of this, and retire with the millions and millions she’d made.
Probably not. But who knew?
For now, she still enjoyed playing the game. She still felt the tickle in her pussy when she thought about all the lives she’d turned into her own personal playthings. And most acutely, she felt the prickling need in her pussy to have slave Cora’s face buried in it.
She suddenly had to smile.
She’d had just one more idea. It wasn’t even very original. If she had a play book, it would be listed on the first few pages.
She sent her numbered slaves on their way, to work on a number of necessary tasks. She had to do this first. She told them to dress slave 1570 and make ready her for transfer and sale, and for a couple of minutes, the place was abuzz with slaves packing up and leaving.
When the last number had left, she was alone with slave Cora, slave Simone and Tom.
She felt the thrill of the game rising in her chest again.
“Let’s get the three of you home,” she said “You have some beds there that I’d like you to fuck me in.”
She watched slave Cora and slave Simone smile at her, infinitely thankful for what she had done to them. She knew that this was the only thing they lived for now. Slaves, obedient, eager and willing, getting one more opportunity to spit on their old lives before they began their new one as her property.
It was one more risk to be seen. One more risk for her whole operation to be uncovered.
But this was the best day of their lives, and she wasn’t going to be the one to spoil it for them.
It was only fair.
* * *