Andrea squirmed on the kitchen floor, trying to find a comfortable position. It wasn’t easy, not with the tight steel bands of her shackles digging painfully into her wrists and ankles, or the large rubber ballgag threatening to break her jaws or the stiff, uncomfortable leather collar locked tight around her throat. A steel chain ran from the collar to one of the table legs, keeping the young coed kneeling beside it, with only a few inches of slack.

Nearby, Andrea’s sister, Lisa, knelt beside her. The teen’s head hung low, glumly. Only a few short hours, the two of them had been happy, free young women, with a promising future. Now they were naked, shackled captives, waiting for the return of the Boundoggle slaver with his van to carry them off into slavery.

Tears welled up in Lisa’s eyes as she thought of her friends at school, the upcoming graduation she would never attend, the home she’d never see again. The teen couldn’t help but sob. Andrea looked over at younger girl. “eeesss oooo-aaah, eeesssaaa…” Andrea grunted, the thick gag mangling her words almost to illegibility. As Lisa looked back up at her, Andrea fought back her own tears, hoping to put on a brave face to comfort her little sister.

“mmm sssrrrreee…” Lisa whimpered through her gag. “isssss lllll iiiii aaaallltt…” She shook her head, trembling with fright.

Andrea leaned over, touching her forehead to her sisters in a way she hoped was comforting. “ssss nnnn uuurrr aaallllt…” she said, cursing the cruel gag that made it so difficult for her to ease her sister’s grief and guilt.

Before Andrea could add anything more, as best the gag would allow, the two sisters heard the sound of the garage door of the house opening and shutting. The girls glanced at each other, eyes wide with fright. They knew what that meant. The Boundoggle slaver was back now, come to collect them. A minute later, he walked into the kitchen, a leering grin crossing his face as he once more looked down at the young, naked slaves he had just caught.

“Well slaves, time to get going.” He said, unlocking the chain lead from the table. The sisters struggled awkwardly to their feet, in spite of the ankle fetters, made more difficult with their wrists trapped uselessly behind their backs. The slaver tugged sharply on the chain and turned towards the door. The sisters had no choice but to shuffle after him or be dragged off their feet. They whimpered, looking one last time around their old home as they were led to the garage.

Parked in the middle was a light blue, unmarked van. There was little indication that this was the van of a professional slaver, and not some innocent handyman, on the outside at least. They might have seen it around the neighborhood a dozen times, never realizing the man inside was simply waiting for them to get careless and give him an opportunity to snare them in his chains.  

The sisters whimpered as he slid open the side door. Inside, the van had been fitted out for its appointed task: transporting freshly kidnapped girls from their old lives to the processing center where they would begin their new ones as slaves. The far wall of the van was lined with cages; made of thick wire with a padlocked hatch on the front, little bigger than a dog cage. Above, a metal bar ran from the back of the van to just behind the driver’s seat. From hooks attached to the bar hung shackles, blindfolds, gags, chains and coils of rope in varying lengths, several types of whips and crops; the tool’s of the slaver’s trade.

Said slaver unclipped the chain lead from the two slave’s collars. Andrea and Lisa glumly climbed into the van. Their captor followed them. From his belt, he withdrew a ring of keys and unlocked two of the cages. “In you go.” He ordered, opening the cage doors. Grabbing Andrea, he guided the young woman as she crawled backwards into the cage. When her bottom touched the back of the cage, the slaver slammed the cage door shut in front of her and closed the padlock, trapping her inside.

As her younger sister was put into the cage beside her, the captive squirmed around, giving a whimper of distress as she realized how little room there was in the cage. Kneeling, her naked chest pressed against the top of her thighs, Andrea could raise her head only a little before it brushed against the top of the cage. Shifting her weight one way or another, Andrea could touch the walls on either side with her shoulders. She looked over at Lisa, who was curled up in the cage beside her. The younger girl had no more room than she did.

After locking Lisa’s cage shut, the slaver turned. Dropping his bag, he unloaded the unused restraints and stored them away for his next unfortunate victim. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the van. “Next stop, the local Boundoggle processing center.” He called back to his captives. The girls sobbed quietly as the van drove out of the garage. In a couple hours, their mother would return home to find the garage door open and her two daughters missing. By then, they would be at the training camp, beginning their new lives as slaves…

The slaver’s van slowly pulled through the quiet suburban neighborhood. Andrea and Lisa could hear people out walking the streets, kids playing, adults doing yardwork or chatting, happy and peaceful. It was the sounds of a life which the two sisters would never again be a part of. They wondered if any of their former neighbors knew inside the plain, unmarked van were two freshly kidnapped girls, being taken away from everything they had ever known…

From time to time, the man driving the van would stop at an intersection. Other times, he simply slowed down. “Nice ass on that one there…” The man said to himself, ignoring his two unwilling passengers. “Let’s see what house she lives at…2132…might have to stop by one evening…”

Eventually, the van pulled onto a larger, busier road. The van sped up. It’s turns were less frequent. The girls could only speculate where they were being taken. Unlike the showrooms, which prominently advertised their nature with slave girls chained out front, inviting passersby in to see other slaves for sale, the recruitment centers tended to be more low key. An unlucky girl might not know there was a Boundoggle center operating in her area until she ended up there in chains and by then it would be too late.

The van ride seemed to stretch on interminably. Trapped in the cages, unable to see where the van was headed, there was little to take Andrea’s mind off her predicament; the pain of kneeling on the metal floor of the cage, the hard steel rings of the shackles cutting into her wrists and ankles, the jaw crushing pressure of the ballgag wedged between her lips, and the constant pressure of the collar around her neck, reminding the young woman she was a slave now, and this would be her life from now on. She tried to think of something, anything, other than her fate, but it was impossible. Her mind kept drifting to thoughts of what awaited her and her sister; what would the training be like? Would it be hard? What would happen when they were sold? Who would buy them? Would they have a kind master or a cruel one?

After Andrea was sure they had been driving for at least several hours, the sisters felt the van pull off the road and come to a stop. At the front of the van, the slaver cheerfully called back “Here’s your stop, girls!” He shut off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. When he unlocked and opened her cage, Andrea squirmed forward, out of the cage. She whimpered into her gag as she finally straightened up, her body protesting its long immobility. Lisa was uncaged and the sisters’ collars were once more chained together. Grabbing the lead, the slaver opened the side door of the van.

Despite how long the ride had felt to the captives, it had really only been an hour or so. The mid-afternoon sun was still high in the sky over the van. As the sisters crawled out of the van and stood on wobbly feet, they looked around. They were in the parking lot of a large, drab grey building three or four stories tall. A tall fence, topped with razor wire, surrounded the lot. Through the wire mesh, they could see other run down, industrial buildings; warehouses or light manufacturing centers. From the smell of exhaust and the sounds of traffic, they were downtown somewhere. Andrea and Lisa quivered as a gust of wind blew over them. The wind felt strange against their bodies completely bared to the world. Though she didn’t see anyone else about, Andrea’s face was still red with shame at the thought of the sight she and her sister must have been giving, naked, shackled and gagged, eyes red with tears.

“Come on, slaves.” Their captor said, tugging sharply on the leash. He led the two girls across the parking lot towards the building. They passed by other vehicles, presumably belonging to other slave catchers working for Boundoggle; vans and large trucks, with a few smaller cars here and there. Part way there, the three passed another slaver, unloading his day’s catch from a dark van. Three girls, roughly Lisa’s age; a slender blonde, a short curvy brunette and a tall dark haired girl with a Mediterranean complexion. They were naked and their hands were bound behind their backs. Ragged, multi colored bands of cloth were tied between each girl’s lips, torn from the clothes they no longer needed. Beneath, their cheeks bulged with more cloth packing. They stood beside the van, looking over at Andrea and Lisa with tear-filled eyes.  

“Hey! Thomas!” Their captor called out cheerfully.

The other man turned from the door of the van where he was untying the feet of a fourth girl, a short, perky Latino girl. “Jones!” The other man replied. He grinned, eying Andrea and Lisa. “I see you’ve been successful today.” He reached out with a hand towards Lisa. The teen started to pull away, but a stern look from Jones reminded her of Rule 2. Glumly, she stood and let the older man paw at her naked breasts for a moment. He moved to Andrea who fought the instinct to resist as she was groped. “Not bad. I can see why the company’s been so eager to get their hands on these two. We won’t have trouble finding a buyer for them.”  

“You look like you’ve done well for yourself as well.” Their captor, Jones, replied. He took a turn pawing at the captive teens; cupping their firm round breasts, sliding a hand between their legs. The slaves sobbed into their gags, trying to struggle away without much success.  

Thomas shrugged. “Not too bad…I was doing a little recon on this one here…” he pointed to blonde. “I was planning on snagging her in the night a few days from now, but when I spotted her heading out to the lake with a couple cute friends well…”  

Jones told Thomas how he had enslaved Andrea and Lisa. The two slavers chatted for a little while longer, before Jones moved on, his two captives shuffling after him. They came to a pair of automatic doors that opened to allow the slaver and his prisoners into the building.

Past the doors, Andrea and Lisa found themselves in a large lobby-area. The floor was white linoleum, the walls painted a neutral beige, overhead fluorescent lighting hummed quietly. At the far end was a reception desk with a young woman sitting behind it. It looked more like the lobby of a DMV or some other minor, bureaucratic office then a center of the modern-day slave trade. The two shivered as the chilled interior air blew over them.

As Andrea and Lisa were led across the room, however, they could see evidence that this was a Boundoggle office, none-the-less. Hung on the walls, instead of the usual cheap landscapes and motivational images, were photographs of different hunters working at this location and their victims. One picture, Andrea saw, showed what had to be a dozen or more young women kneeling in a long row, naked, arms pulled back behind their backs, ballgags filling their mouths. Behind them was a grinning slaver holding a plague. At the top of the photograph was written: “Keith Walker: Record Breaking Slave Catch-Oct. 3rd 2007.”

On the other wall was a row of framed portraits of men and women, under a banner that read: “Slave Catcher of the Month.” Beside each portrait was another picture showing dozens of smaller pictures, arranged in a grid. Each showed a scared, gagged, female face staring at the camera in numb terror. These were the women and girls who had been enslaved so their captor could become employee of the month.

At the far end of the room, Jones and the sisters had to wait. In front of them was another slaver, a stern woman in her late thirties. Held in one hand were three leather leashes attached to the slave collars of the three freshly captured slaves with her. Held in the other was a cruel-looking leather flog. From the red strips painting each girls’ backsides, their captor wasn’t shy about using it.

“Through the door, Mistress Blake. Inspection room 4.” A female voice from behind the desk said, then gave a sharp yelp.

The female slaver turned, tugging sharply on the leashes. “You heard her, bitches! Move!” She barked. With a frightened whimper, the slavers shuffled forward, towards a door to the right of the desk, as fast as their fetters allowed. It wasn’t fast enough for their captor. The flog lashed out, eliciting gag-muffled grunts of pain from the three as the leather straps met soft female flesh.

Wincing in sympathy for their fellow captives, Andrea and Lisa shuffled forward as their own captor walked up to the desk. “Good afternoon, Master Jones.” A young woman behind the desk said in a cheerful voice.

Peering over the counter, the sisters saw a short, slender girl, maybe about 20 years old, with short, dark hair and a pale complexion. She was naked, apart from a leather collar with a brass plate stamped with the Boundoggle Logo on the front and below a large number ‘4’. She was a slave, just like them. The girl’s hands were cuffed together in front of her and the chain secured to a ring set in the desk, leaving her just enough slack to reach the mouse and keyboard of her computer. She was ungagged, but a ballgag hung around her neck, like some bizarre necklace, should her masters need to silence her.

“How may I help you, sir.” The girl sitting behind the desk asked, though ‘sitting’ wasn’t really the correct word. As the sisters peered over the top of the desk, they saw the receptionist was perched atop a metal pole secured to the floor. Her ankles were secured in cuffs attached to the bottom of the pole. The top of the pole, meanwhile, ended in a pair of large rubber prongs that were buried deep in the girl’s holes. At the front of the desk, Andrea noticed, were two buttons, one red, one green. The red was labeled “punish”, the green “reward.”

“Good afternoon, 4. I’ve got two new catches I’d like to get processed.” Jones said, indicating the sisters.

“Very good Master.” Slave 4 replied. She typed something on the computer, her fingers darting over the keys, apparently not hindered much by her restraints. “Were they a job for the company or a free catch?”

“Company job. They’re the Rivera sisters.” Jones told her. “Andrea and Lisa.”

The slave typed some more things into the computer. “All set, Master. If you will, through the door. 18 will be waiting in inspection room 7.”

“Room 7.” Jones replied. With a smile, he reached onto the desk and pushed the green button, holding it down for several seconds. The slave gasped as the twin prongs inside her suddenly hummed into life, vibrating intensely until he released the pressure on the button. The girl gave a soft whimper of disappointment as her brief pleasure faded. Jones chuckled, tugging on the chain lead for the sisters to follow him past the desk to the door.

The door led into a long hallway, lined with doors spaced a couple yards apart. Each had a number on it. Jones walked his captives down to the one marked “7” and opened the door. Inside was a small room with bare grey walls. There was another door opposite the one they had come in from.

In the center was another desk, smaller than the one out front, with a computer on it. There was another slave girl chained behind the desk, perched on a pair of penetrating plugs like the other girl. She was tall, with a plain face dappled with freckles behind a pair of glasses. Her mousy brown hair was tied back in pigtails. Her collar has the number 18 stamped on it.

“Good afternoon, Master Jones.” Slave 18 said, bowing her head as Jones entered. “Two girls to register?”

“Yep.” Jones said, tugging sharply on the chain lead. He led Andrea and Lisa to the front of the desk and ordered them to get down. On their knees, their heads could just peer across the surface of the table at the other slave. The slaver leaned over and loosed the sister’s gags enough to slip the rubber plugs out of their mouths, leaving the gags hanging around their necks. “Get them entered.” He said, straightening up again. “I’ll be in the break room. Who’s on duty?”

“7 and 21 are, master.” 18 replied. She turned to look at Andrea and Lisa as their captor left the room. “Sorry about this. I know things must seem hard now, but eventually you’ll learn to accept being a slave, trust me…”

“H…how long have you been a slave?” Lisa asked, uncertain speaking after being gagged for so long.

“Let’s see…it will be, about three years next month.” 18 told them. “I was on the market for two weeks, didn’t sell at the price they were asking, so the company added me to the staff. Most of the low level staffers are slaves. I don’t think you two will have that problem though….” She added, eyeing the sisters.  

“Now, let’s get you into the system. You’re Andrea?” She nodded to the older captive, “and you’re Lisa?” The sisters nodded. The office slave typed their names into the system. She raised an eyebrow, “Most of this is filled in. They must have been looking at grabbing you two for a while. Still need to confirm this is accurate, though, so tell me if anything is wrong and do be truthful. They’ll know if you’re lying and you’ll be punished…”

Slave 18 started reading information off the computer. Most of it was physical statistics; height, weight, date of birth. Some of it was medical; what medicines the girls had taken, what allergies they had, any operations they had undergone; things that might matter to a potential master looking to buy them. Other questions were more probing; how many boyfriends had they had? Had they ever had sex? Tried anal, or other acts? Had they ever experimented with other girls? Many of the questions had already been answered, with disturbing accurately, and the sisters only had to nod to confirm them.

“How do they know this?” Lisa asked, incredulously.

“You’d be amazed at some of the information that appears on this screen when I get a new slave in front of this desk.” Slave 18 told her. “Boundoggle has some of the best data mining systems out there, gathering information on potential targets for enslavement. Lot of it comes from social media. Girls need to watch what they post online; the company is watching. I wish someone had told me that…” she added, a note of bitterness entering her voice. “Bit too late for all of us…Anyway, this all checks out. Both of you are in the system now. It’ll take about 24 hours, but your family, schools, the government, will be notified about your enslavement.”

She pressed a button on a small machine beside the computer. It whirred a moment and spat out two plastic tags. She motioned for Andrea, then Lisa to lean over in turn, so she could affix the tags to the front of their slave collars. They could see the tags had numbers printed on the front; barcodes on the back. “Here are your tags. They’ll make sure you get sent to the right camp.” She nodded as the sisters straightened up. “Both of you head through the other door,” she nodded over her shoulder. “to be photographed, then you’ll be taken to a holding cell to await transport to the camp.”

Glumly, Andrea and Lisa stepped around the desk and shuffled to the door. As they reached it, Slave 18 pressed a button on her keyboard. The door swung open and the sisters stepped through into another room. Waiting was another slaver. He hurried over and took charge of the girls.

“Over here, slaves!” The man said, hurrying them towards the center of the room. In the middle was a raised platform, a foot or two higher than the rest of the floor. Surrounding it was a circular frame of metal poles, fitted with cameras, facing inward. A person standing in the center could be photographed from 360*, from above and below and every angle in between, without having to move.

“You first.” The photographer told Andrea. Grabbing her wrists, he unlocked the cuffs and slipped them off, then unchained her ankles. “Stand up there, with your feet on the marked positions.”

As Andrea got up onto the platform, she saw yellow footprints painted on the metal surface. The young woman shifted her feet, spreading them further and further apart, until they were over the marked spots. Her face flushed red with shame. The position left her legs spread wide apart. At least two cameras were positioned, one in front, the other behind, angled looking up between her spread cheeks.

“Place your hands on the back of your head, fingers intertwined.” The man ordered. This had the effect of forcing Andrea to straighten up, to thrust her chest forward for the cameras, several of which had been positioned to capture her naked chest from several views. “Alright. Hold that pose and smile!” The man pushed a button on a remote. There was a bright flash, from several flashbulbs surrounding Andrea. Purple spots danced in front of her eyes for a few seconds as the man looked over a computer screen; the photographs of her now scrolling across it. “Perfect! You’re turn! Just like your sister.” He told Lisa, removing her own bindings. The teen mounted the platform and, reluctantly, adopted the shamefully exposing position Andrea did. She held it for a few seconds for the cameras to record it, then she stepped down as well.

“Very good.” The photographer said, snapping the cuffs onto the sister’s hands and feet once more. He also reapplied their ballgags. “These will look great in this month’s catalogue.” He led the sisters to the other side of the room and through another door into a hallway. The slaves were marched to the far end, eventually coming to a heavy, metal door. It had “Holding Pen” written across it in red. The slaver pulled an ID card from his pocket and slid it through a scanner to unlock the cell door. It slid open on well balanced hinges. After Andrea and Lisa had shuffled through, he closed the door, which automatically locked once more.

The sisters found themselves in a large, dimly lit room. Through the gloom, they could see three long rows of benches filling the center of the room. More slave girls, freshly processed like them, were seated along the benches. There were at least two dozen young women and teen girls. Their hands and feet were cuffed and the other captives were ballgagged as well. A few mumbled unintelligible greetings to the two sisters as they hobbled over to an empty spot on the nearest bench and sat down to wait/

It was late in the evening when the slaves were moved out. As the hours slowly passed by for the sisters, from time to time, the cell doors would open and another shackled and gagged slave or a pair of frightened young women would be pushed inside by the slavers before it slammed shut, plunging the captives back into darkness. The large room slowly filled up with captives. They crowded the hard, narrow benches, pressed close together. Others sat on the concrete floor against the walls or slowly shuffled around the perimeter. All in all, a good day’s haul for the Boundoggle slavers.

Then, without warning, a different door opened on the far side of the cell from the one the women had all come in from. A half dozen slavers rushed into the room. “Ok, slaves! On your feet!” One of the men shouted in a loud voice that echoed in the enclosed space. “Time to move you bitches out!” He and the other slavers began grabbing the girls closest to the door and shoving them, roughly, out into the hallway beyond.

Andrea and Lisa both rose to their feet. They started moving towards the exit together, but as they jostled amongst the other girls shuffling forward, the two became separated. Andrea stopped, turning her head, grunting into her gag as she looked around for her sister.

“Keep moving, lazy slut!” One of the men said, grabbing Andrea by her arm. “Dragging your pretty ass ain’t gonna keep you out of the training camp!” He pushed her towards the exit, giving her a painful swat across her naked bottom to encourage her to keep moving.

Andrea stumbled through the door. To her surprise, she found herself outside, a starry night sky overhead. Wooden walls were built on either side, forming a narrow path forward. Andrea couldn’t turn around in the cramped space, couldn’t see ahead of the slave in front of her and with a dozen or more girls crowding forward behind her, there was no way she could stop. “Like the chute in a stockyard…” Andrea thought to herself, not liking the comparison of her and the other slaves to livestock on their way to the slaughterhouse.

Slavers paced along platforms overhead, looking down at the frightened captives, keeping them moving by shouting and menacingly swinging short, leather whips, just inches over the slave’s vulnerable naked figures. Up ahead, the chute split off into two paths, a swinging door alternatingly opening and closing them off. A slaver stood at the controls, directing the flow of captives one way, then the other. As Andrea reached the end of the line, she saw why. The chute led up to a wooden ramp which was lined up to the back of a large truck. She could just make out the Boundoggle logo painted on the side.

Andrea had occasionally seen trucks like that on the road, coming to and from the various processing centers, training camps, showrooms and auctions. She had known, of course, that in the backs of those trucks were slaves, women and girls like her, being transported wherever the company that owned the slaves wanted to send them, but Andrea hadn’t given much thought to what it must be like for the poor captives inside. Now, she was about to find out.

A slaver was counting the captives as they stumbled up the ramp into the back of the transport. Andrea was two slaves from the front of the line, when the truck was full up. The slaver waved to the other man at the controls. Doors closed in front of the girl ahead of Andrea, and further back in the line, while others opened, redirecting the captives towards a second truck that had just back into place and opened up. As it filled, a woman in a Boundoggle uniform came out of the back of the truck and she and the other slaver closed the shutters. The engine revved up and the truck pulled away.

Andrea stood, another captive in front of her, a half dozen captives behind her, waiting for the next truck. She turned her head, hoping to see her sister in the line, but all the gagged, miserable faces she saw around her were strangers. Meanwhile, another truck was backed into place. The back was opened. A second later, the doors in the chute opened up as well. A slave overhead barked at the girls to start moving. Glumly, Andrea shuffled forward, up the ramp.

As she came into the truck, Andrea’s eyes widened with shock as she saw how they were to be transported. Along either side of the long trailer were low benches, meant for the captives. Spaced close together on the top of the metal surface were two tall, rubber prongs, the forward one tall and straight, the other one shorter and angled slightly. Andrea didn’t realize what they were until she saw the slave ahead of her seated on the bench, an embarrassed, discomforted look across her gagged face, and noticed the base of one prong between the other girl’s legs, plunged deep into her sex.

Had Andrea a chance, she might have stopped, might have pulled back and resisted, but the momentum of the slaves behind her carried the young woman into the back of the truck and the slaver waiting. Before Andrea could stop, the other woman grabbed the captive by the ring of her collar and dragged her to the rear of the truck.

“Quite squirming!” The woman said, giving her charge a quick slap across one naked breast as she got the younger girl lined up over the next set of plugs. Grabbing Andrea’s shoulders, the slaver pushed down, forcing Andrea to bend her knees and sink onto the bench. Andrea’s eyes widened as the lips of her womanhood met the tip of the rubber phallus. The prongs had been well lubed, so it slid up easily inside her, filling the young woman’s sex. A soft moan escaped her gag. A second later, the second plug bumped up against her anus. The slaver pressed harder, increasing the pressure until Andrea’s body yielded. She squealed indignantly into her gag as the plug popped in.

While Andrea squirmed, struggling to process the strange sensations of the devices inside her, the other woman moved quickly to secured her to the bench. The chain of Andrea’s handcuffs was locked to a hook on the back of the bench, preventing her from getting up. A similar hook locked the chains of her ankle fetters. Finally, Andrea’s collar was attached to the wall of the truck by a short chain.

With Andrea not going anywhere, the slaver turned her attention to the next girl to come up the ramp into the truck. She was sat down on the prong beside Andrea, sandwiching the young woman between her and the slave on the other side. As the truck filled up, Andrea watched each new face on the benches, hoping to see her sister. To her disappointment, Andrea didn’t see Lisa.

“Will they send us to separate training camps?” Andrea thought, with a stab of fear. She had no idea where the trucks were headed, if they were all going to the same camp or to different ones. “Will they sell us to separate owners?” Bad as it was being enslaved, at least the two had been together. Tears welled up in Andrea’s eyes at the thought that she might never see her sister again. She wasn’t the only one in the truck crying, whether from fear, or misery at their situation, or discomfort from the large plugs filling their holes, most of the slaves in the back were sobbing quietly into their gags as the back of the truck was closed up, plunging them into darkness. The trailer shook and bounced as it pulled away from the loading dock, taking them towards the training camp.

It was late in the evening. By now, most everyone had gotten home, safe and sound, quite unlike the captives in the truck. It didn’t have to fight its way through traffic and before long the truck was speeding down the highway. The trip was a long and uncomfortable one for Andrea and the other slaves. The vibrations of the truck against the road seemed to travel directly from the wheels up the plugs and straight into Andrea’s sex. Every bump or dip in the road caused both penetrators to plunge sharply up into her, wrenching another muffled grunt from the slave.

It didn’t take long before the constant stimulation had her on edge, craving a release that remained stubbornly out of reach. As shameful as it might have been, Andrea was tempted to try and work herself off on the twin plugs. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Andrea wasn’t sure which, between the plugs inside her and the chains on her wrists and ankles and collar, she was firmly held in place, unable to move or stretch in the slightest, much less work herself off.

That didn’t stop some of the captives, though. Andrea could hear their chains rattling as they slid up and down the scant faction of an inch they could along the plugs, trying in vain to find some release. Others would, from time to time, panic and begin struggling wildly against the chains, desperate to escape the suffocating blackness of the trailer, until exhaustion calmed them down again. For the rest, there was nothing to do but wait and try and ignore the constant sensations between their legs. Sleep was impossible, even as the hours wore on and Andrea got more and more tired and uncomfortable position, the choking of her collar on her throat whenever she started to slump over, and the never ending buzzing between her legs, kept her awake and alert.

It was almost something of a relief when she felt the truck pull off the highway onto a smaller road, that led to the training camp. Though Andrea knew what awaited her and the others in the camp was hardly any better, at the moment, all she wanted to do was get out of this damned truck. Fear and relief warred in her as the truck came to a stop and she heard someone outside unlatching the back hatch. A moment later, the back door slid up, letting in a bit of fresh air. The air was cool and smelled fresh; country air. They’d come a long way from the processing center downtown.

A quartet of slavers also came into the back of the truck and began unchaining the slaves from the benches. Andrea groaned, a mix of discomfort and relief as she finally straightened up after being held immobile for so long. Her legs were stiff and sore; her bottom had fallen asleep…the sensation between her legs when she at last slid up off the twin plugs brought a squeal from her gagged lips.

One of the men grabbed Andrea and pushed her towards the rear doors. For a brief moment, at the top of the ramp, Andrea saw a set up similar to the loading dock at the processing center; a maze of wooden walls, winding towards a larger compound; ringed by two concentric circles of tall, barbed wire fences. Inside were concrete buildings and looming overhead, watchtowers with spotlights, sweeping across the compound. The whole thing looked like a prison camp.

Then, the young woman stumbled down the ramp down in the chute. Slavers overhead kept her and the girls in front and behind her moving, towards the entrance to the camp. At the end of the line, the fenced path split in several directions. Just before that were several slavers, standing at a checkpoint. As each girl passed, she was pulled out line by one of the men. The man holding Andrea raised a handheld scanner to her collar. It read the barcode from the plastic tag hanging from the front.

“Door 3.” The man said, glancing at the device with a bored expression. “Keep moving!” He ordered, pushing Andrea back in line. As she reached the divide, Andrea saw the gate marked with a three. She turned and shuffled down that path. It seemed to be leading to one of the large concrete structures she’d seen coming off of the truck. Said building turned out to be a cellblock. Inside, lit by large, dim red lights were row upon row of small steel cages. About half were occupied by one or more naked female captives.

“Come here, slave!” A female voice said. A woman dressed in a Boundoggle uniform walked over to Andrea and grabbed her. Girl, actually, Andrea was surprised to see. The slaver couldn’t have been more than 18. She smiled cheerfully, scanning Andrea’s tag. “Let’s see…you go in cage…1138. Oh, right next to your sister! That’s nice!” Grabbing the ring at the front of Andrea’s collar, the slaver dragged the startled slave forward. Andrea shuffled after the younger girl, silently praying she’d heard her right.

Sure enough, about halfway down the row of cages, Andrea saw Lisa’s scared face peering out between the bars. The two sisters whimpered in relief as their eyes caught one another. The slaver produced an electronic key from her belt and held it to a sensor to open the cage door. “Down you go.” She ordered, pushing down on Andrea’s shoulder. The older captive sank to her knees to crawl into the cage. Lisa crawled up to the side of the cage, pressing her body against the bars. Andrea did the same, taking some comfort from the brief human contact they were allowed.

Outside, the slaver closed the door, which locked automatically with a click. “Get some sleep, slaves. You start your training tomorrow at dawn...”