“Well now, who would like to present first?” Edgar Winters said, settling into the thickly padded executive chair at the head of the long conference table. Mr. Winters was a tall, thin man of 53, his face lined, short dark hair going gray at the temples. He was dressed in a sharply cut suit of black cloth. Around him, a dozen other men and women in business attire took their seats, fiddling with portfolios, laptops and paper notes. This was the big quarterly meeting for his company Acquisitions Inc. where the heads of the various departments presented their work over the last few months to the boss. 

As soon as Mr. Winters had settled into his seat, a small jingling came from beneath the conference table. A moment later, a face appeared between the man’s widely spread legs. The face belonged to a girl, no more than a month or two past her 18th birthday. She had a gorgeous, youthful face with expressive blue eyes, framed by a short mop of curly red hair. Her studiously neutral expression was marred slightly by the necessity of stretching her jaws around the thick ring-gag strapped tightly between her teeth. Further down, a steel ring encircled the girl’s neck, a long chain running from the collar to a fixture below the table. Apart from these and the shackles locked around her slender wrists, the girl was completely naked. 

Without needing any prompting besides his spread legs, the slave girl unzipped Mr. Winter’s pants, freeing his manhood. She slipped it through the ring gag and began to enthusiastically pleasure him. From the distracted looks on the faces of many of the other men and women at the table, they were also partaking in this means of livening up a long business meeting. Just one of the perks of running one of the largest slaving organizations in the country. 

“Steve…” Mr. Winters said, trying to keep his voice steady in spite of the pleasurable sensations coming from his nether regions. “Why don’t you present first? I seem to recall from our last meeting that your section was working on something special.” 

A younger blonde man in a light gray suit nodded, grabbing his notes. He walked to the front of the room, pausing to hand a small USB stick to the secretary. She ‘mmpphh’d’ through her ballgag, inserted the drive into the computer connected to the room’s projector and brought up the Powerpoint presentation on it. 

“Thank you sir,” Steve Brown said, taking up the remote. “As you will recall from our Q3 meeting, we were in the late stages of planning a raid on the Beta Lambda sorority house in Springfield…” He quickly cycled through the first few slides, showing the location, plans of the house, maps of the local area, followed by pictures of the Beta Lambda girls, some taken covertly by Steve’s team during reconnaissance, others culled from the web and social media. There were a dozen targets identified as possibilities; pretty, smiling girls in their late teens or early 20s. The last of the old slides detailed the snatch team Steve had assigned to the raid. 

“I am happy to report that, on the night of the 20th, the sorority house was successfully hit.” Steve continued. There were a couple slides showing grainy, green night vision captures from the snatch team as they approached the building, disabled the alarm system and forced the back door. 

“All targets within the building were successfully located, subdued and secured for transport.” In several more slides, Steve showed how each of the slumbering coeds were located, chloroformed, stripped, collared, shackled and gagged. The last one showed the back of the snatch team’s truck with all the girls caged up, conscious now and clearly terrified by the situation they’d awoken to. 

“Ultimately we were able to secure 10 of our original targets…” Steve brought up a repeat of the slide showing a dozen female faces. “Two of the targets were not present at the house the night of the operation. However, this was more than made up for by three new girls who were staying over that night.” 

On the screen, the squares changed. The two unaccounted for girls grayed out with “Not Collected” stamped across. The rest, meanwhile, rotated to new profiles, taken post capture showing each girl collared and gagged, looking terrified as the words “Secured” appeared over then. They were joined by three new pictures, showing the girls who picked the wrong night to visit their friends in the Beta Lambda sorority. 

“We currently have the coeds held at Processing Center North.” Steve continued, showing a few more photos of the girls caged up at one of Acquisition Inc.’s training facilities. “A few are showing some resistance to our basic conditioning…” On the screen, the slide show paused on a shot of one of the girls struggling valiantly, but futilely, against the two burly trainers dragging her from her cell by her leash. “Nonetheless, we’re confident all will be ready for sale at our End-of-Year auction. Any questions?” 

As Steve was answering a question on the current investigations into the sorority abductions, Mr. Winters grunted, coming suddenly in the mouth of the slave girl servicing him. She took it in stride, cleaning him with her tongue before setting his clothes to rights and shuffling back under the table to await the next call for her services. That one was also almost ready for the auction block too, the older man thought, a bit sorry at the thought of seeing her go. But she’d fetch a good price and besides, as Steve’s presentation showed, there were always more girls to take her place. 

“Um…thank you Steve. Your team has done an excellent job with that one so far, and we look forward to the final results.” Mr. Winters said, after clearing his throat. “Next…hmm…why don’t you present next, Ms. Blake?” 

At this prompting, a tall, statuesque woman with long, jet black hair stood, grabbing her tablet. Mr. Winters smiled appreciatively as the 36-year old circled around the table, her figure amply shown off by the tailored maroon business suit she wore. Where Steve’s division handled speculative abductions, mainly supplying girls for Acquisition Inc’s semi-annual auctions, Ms. Sandra Blake’s division was in charge of finding girls for direct sales to some of their biggest and wealthiest clients. 

Many of them had also made offers to buy the gorgeous brunette outright and, truthfully, Mr. Winters would have loved the idea of seeing the beautiful, haughty Ms. Blake naked but for a collar and restraints, especially if he could get a chance to ‘test’ her out before she was delivered to her new owner, but alas, thus far the young woman’s numbers were good enough to make such as ‘reassignment’ bad business. 

“But maybe that will change in the future.” He thought, hopefully. 

Seeming not to notice her bosses thoughts regarding her, Sandra got the shackled secretary to bring up her presentation. Once it was loaded and up and projected, Sandra turned to present it. 

“I will start with some existing accounts…” She began. “And then the new ones added this quarter.” Sandra turned to the first slide. “On the Tanaka account, we have identified a number of prime candidates that meet the specifications he asked for…” The wealthy asian businessman was one of their most reliable customers, buying at least five or six girls a year for his personal use or for his illicit businesses. He had a thing, in particular for blondes with big jugs. 

“This is our first option, Miss Kendra Phillips.” Sandra brought up a slave showing the usual mix of photos from social media and the recon team. She was a short, perky woman in her early 20s, with short flaxen hair and was indeed, quite well endowed. 

“And here is option 2, Miss Nancy Kelly.” The next slide showed another young girl in her late teens with a long golden ponytail, her bust well shown off by the skimpy red bikini she wore.       

“Which would you recommend we bring in?” Mr. Winters asked. 

“Well, the recon teams believe Miss Phillips would be easier to collect. She lives alone, out in the countryside and works remotely.” Sandra began, “However, Miss Kelly, while harder to collect, would come with some additional bonuses…” She advanced the slide. The next showed a photograph of Nancy posing with two other figures. One was a year or two younger, the other significantly older than the other two but the resemblance between the three women was unmistakable. 

“Nancy Kelly currently resides with her mother, Olivia and younger sister Heather.” Sandra informed the room. “Though Mrs. Kelly is a bit older then our usual targets, the recon team reports she still meets our quality standards, while the younger sister is prime slave material. Though we do not currently have any orders they would fit, they could be good auction material.” She glanced at Steve who nodded. 

“A mother, daughter pair could make a good opener.” He confirmed.

Mr. Winters thought for a moment and made his decision. “Go ahead and schedule the Kelly’s for collection…but keep Miss Phillips in mind too. If grabbing her is as simple as you say we may do both targets.” 

“Understood, sir.” Sandra jotted down a note on her tablet before moving to the next account. Some were reports of clients receiving orders made previously. Others, like the Tanaka account, were fresh orders with decisions to be made on what girls would be collected to fulfill them. Mr. Winters listened to the options, thought for a moment and, with a word or gesture, determined the futures of the innocent women and girls: whether they would get to continue their ordinary lives, never suspecting how close they’d come to enslavement or if they would shortly be visited by one of Acquisition Incs snatch team and spirited away to a new life in bondage…

“...and it’s now been two weeks since we delivered his Ex and stepdaughters to Mr. Charles and he seems quite pleased.” Sandra wrapped up the last account. After a few final questions or comments, Sandra took her place back at the table. She wrapped a knuckle on the side of the table. There was a muffled rattling of chains below and Sandra noticeably relaxed as the slave beneath skillfully worked off the stress of the presentation with her tongue. 

Meanwhile, the next person came up to present. He was a burly, bald man of about 40. Quintin Jones was head of security for Acquisitions Inc. He waited a moment for his presentation to be readied and then began. 

“This part quarter, my department has been tracking several potential security issues.” He began. “Firstly…” The slide he brought up showed a pretty young woman with short, curly brown hair, dressed in a dark green sweater vest. She was posed at a writing desk, looking off in the distance. “This is Helen Eastman, an investigative reporter. Freelance, but has published with a number of major outfits in the past five years. And, as it happens, she is also the older sister of this woman…” 

He flipped to the next slide. It was one of the standard photos taken as part of the intake procedures for new slaves. The brunette stood, nude but for her collar, ballgag and cuffs, looking to the camera with the mixed expression of horror and disbelief many of the captives showed as it slowly dawned on them they had fallen into the clutches of slavers. 

Though the situations of the two women, one a successful journalist getting her professional headshot taken, the other a recently captured slave girl, there was a definite resemblance to the two. “Mary Eastman was collected a little over five months ago. Helen has been making inquiries regarding her sister's disappearance and she’s been getting closer to our organization than we would like…” 

Mr. Winters listened as his security man outlined the steps which would soon see Ms. Eastman reunited with her sister, though definitely not in the manner she would have chosen. The other security problems were not nearly so interesting; issues with their dark web connections, nosy individuals snooping around one of their fronts, low level personnel picked up for petty offenses or traffic violations that needed to be sprung before they could be connected to anything more serious…

The older man signaled under the table. To his disappointment, the girl who eventually shuffled between his legs wasn’t the redhead, but a young brunette, a fresh capture still being trained. She hesitated a long moment before, at the man’s prompting, reluctantly took him in her mouth and began to half-heartedly work her tongue around. He frowned. This one definitely needed more training… 

Leaning back in the chair, he noted that Mr. Jones had taken his seat again. Mr. Winters sighed. There were still plenty more department heads to go. This would be a long meeting…