“The dog’s gone!”
With tired eyes, Mai looked up from the weird text on her phone just in time to see her bedroom door whip open. The bed-bound woman had enough time to set her phone before her blonde roommate was on her, shaking her by the shoulders.
“Get off!” Mai grumbled with a shove. She sat up. “You could see me putting my phone down, Emmy, I’m clearly awake!”
“The dog’s gone,” Emmy said again. Her eyes were almost as wild as her sleep-mussed blonde hair. The silver nightie she wore was crumpled up from a night of tossing and turning in bed. Her white bathrobe had slipped off one shoulder amid her panicked searching. “I’ve looked everywhere, Mai. I can’t find him. He’s gone. Actually gone. He must’ve got out.”
“Shit,” Mai said. Now she was lot more awake, her drowsiness gone. She hopped out of bed, adjusting her pajama pants as she did. “Did you look under your bed? Or mine?” Mai went down to her knees to check. She heard rather than saw her roommate’s little gasp and the pitter patter of her feet as she dashed back to her own room to check.
“Check your closet too!” Mai called out when she saw nothing under her bed.
“I already did!” Emmy called back. “I’m not an idiot, Mai!”
Sure she wasn’t. That must be why she didn’t check under her bed. Or how the dog got out in the first place. Or why they even had the miserable thing when they couldn’t even take the stupid mutt out of their crummy two-bedroom half of a duplex!
Emmy was back in the doorway of Mai’s room. “He’s gone,” she was breathless.
“I can see that,” Mai growled. Her closet had been empty. No dog hiding in there. “You checked the basement, right? And the garage?
“Yes.”
Mai let out a sigh.
Emmy’s face twisted. “Hey! Don’t get mad at me! I did everything you said we should, just the way you said it. This is NOT my fault.”
Mai was careful not to remind her roommate how she had clearly told her not to get the dog in the first place. Instead she fumbled around her room for her car keys and a sweatshirt. The sun was just starting to peak through the blinds. It would be chilly this early in the morning. “We can point fingers later, Emmy. Right now, we need to go out looking for him. Do you have any idea when he got out?”
Emmy’s expression started smoothing itself out as she worked to get her anger under control. “I…no. He was still there when I fell asleep last night. And then when I woke up…” she gave a helpless shrug.
Another sigh. “Alight, he can’t have gotten far. Get some clothes on, we’ll go out looking for him.”
Her roommate’s answer was a nod before she raced back down the hallway to get dressed. Mai reached over to her dresser to find some socks when her phone announced a new text message. She was going to ignore it, since she had more important things to worry about than whoever was going to ask her to cover for them at work, when she saw the message was a picture.
Mai picked up the phone with a frown and discovered that there was a little bit of sleepiness left in her after all. It was gone now. Her eyes shot open and she opened her phone. It was the same unknown number that sent the weird message a little while ago. That one was still there, an address and a time. Beneath it was the picture depicting a very familiar dog.
Not a real dog, obviously. Mai wondered when Emmy’s insistence on calling him a dog had rubbed off on her enough to use it in her head. It was a man. His name was Franklin Carson. Emmy had dated him for a couple of months when she started to suspect him of cheating on her. She’d complained about it enough to push Mai to do the legwork and discover the truth. Franklin had been cheating. But Emmy was the side piece, not the girlfriend. The asshole had a fiancé he’d never told Emmy about. So Emmy, in all her impulsive glory, decided to do something about it.
No, wait… ‘decided’ wasn’t the right word. That implied she had thought about it in any way. What Emmy really did was act without considering the consequences of her actions. At all. Mai had come home one night to find the poor bastard all taped up and covered in bright red welts from his own belt on the kitchen floor. Emmy was looming over her prisoner, sitting on a chair and pleasuring herself at the sight of him.
This was also the night Mai discovered her roommate’s secret love of BDSM porn.
Hours passed as Mai tried to talk her dumbass of a roommate into cutting the jackass out and letting him go on his way to call the cops or whatever else he wanted to do. Maybe try to get some blackmail material to keep him quiet. His fiancé didn’t know what was going on, right? Just threaten to show her all the presents her precious groom-to-be gave Emmy over the months. And all the while Franklin sat there, wide eyed, grunting and moaning in support of Mai's arguments. Anything to get out of his predicament.
But Emmy resisted, arguing with that pigheaded stubbornness of hers until Mai realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere. She was going to call the cops herself, but then she looked down at the helpless man on the floor begging with his eyes and… well…
And then she realized that if she really cared about letting the poor bastard out, she would have bolted from the apartment and called the cops right away. So she thought, ‘what the hell, let’s do it.’
That was the story of how Franklin Carson became their (mostly Emmy’s) pet. He didn’t get a new name, they just called him dog or doggy. Tape became their new best friend since it was the only binding material they had on hand. They frogtied him with it, gagged him with it, and turned his hands into useless paws with it. Real bondage gear came later, when Mai made a trip a few towns over to buy it all with cash.
Now Mai was looking down at his picture on her phone. A plug gag enveloped the lower half of his face, easy to get out of the way when she or Emmy wanted some pleasure. The rest of him was mostly naked. Leather belts kept his legs frogtied and little leather pouches were his current paws. There was a steel chastity cage kept on him by a sturdy harness that also included his “tail.”
The fear in his eyes was very familiar. Mai loved that look and the way she caught fire at the sight of it. But until now it had always been in person, not on a digital image. Taped to his gag was a second was a piece of paper declaring the date and time. 6:04 AM. The clock on Mai’s phone read 6:07. The sun was rising in the background of the shot, lighting the picture with the same soft glow currently filling Mai’s room. As she looked, another text came through. The same one as before, an address and a time. 8 PM. A fourth text followed moments later.
Come Alone.
“Okay, I’m dressed,” came Emmy’s frantic voice. “What are you doing? Are you ready? Come on, let’s go!”
“We’re not going to find him,” Mai answered. “And he’s not going to the cops.” She looked up to find her blonde roommate blinking.
“We’re being blackmailed.”
X*X*X
“I want to go in with you.”
“For the last time, Emmy, no.”
They passed the address Mai had been sent for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. She was surprised to learn it was a high-class hotel in Chicago when she googled it. Mai had been expecting something more out of the way. Maybe not an abandoned warehouse or a run-down old dock, but a quiet dive bar or some private property out in the country. One of the most expensive hotels in the middle of downtown Chicago had not been on her list.
“You can’t seriously think it’s a good idea to go in there alone.”
Seated in the passenger seat while Emmy drove, Mai sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course I don’t think it’s a good idea. But it doesn’t really matter what I think, does it? We have absolutely no leverage here. At all. We can’t call the cops, we can’t afford to hire help, and they snuck into our apartment and stole him while we were sleeping. Whoever did this has us dead to rights and we cannot afford to piss them off!” Her voice had steadily risen to a yell.
“Okay, okay,” Emmy shot her a glare before taking another turn. “You don’t have to scream.”
A frosty silence fell between the two. The stress of the day had them sniping at each other a lot more than usual. The two twenty-six-year-olds had been roommates since their last year of college, but they weren’t friends. Never had been. They could tolerate each other. And they could go out and get drunk together when there was no one else. But until discovering their mutual interest in enslaving some sap for their sexual pleasure, they mostly just ignored or vented to each other. After that point they’d been partners of necessity, but still not friends.
“Drop me off at the front.”
Emmy shot another brief glare but didn’t say anything. Mai didn’t say anything right back. That cold silence reigned until the blonde brought the car back around the block. With a promise to text Emmy updates as often as possible, Mai stepped onto the curb and over to the hotel entrance.
As she walked through the doors, Mai was happy to discover she didn’t feel under-dressed. Upon learning the location their blackmailer ordered Mai to, Emmy had gotten it into her head that these people would expect formal wear. It was a fancy place, the kind you needed serious cash to stay in and came complete with high-end restaurants. That’s why Emmy, thinking Mai would let her come with, had come in her best red dress and a pair of fuck-me heels she could pass off as tasteful. The outfit did flatter her. But most did. She was a blonde not-quite-but-almost-a-bombshell with sparkling green eyes. She turned her share of heads every day.
Mai disagreed with her roommate’s logic. So she wore something professional, one of her nicer work outfits. Her silky, shoulder length black hair was neatly bound at the back with two locks hanging loose to frame her face. She wore black slacks, a blazer, a nice white blouse underneath, and good-looking flats that would be easy to run in if it came to that. But in any outfit, she was still an attractive Asian-American. Thin, a little taller and bustier than the average woman. She turned about as many heads as her roommate.
The lobby was full of businessmen and women, a couple of families on vacation dragging along their bored kids, and hotel staff dressed in overly fancy uniforms. As instructed, the twenty-six-year-old made her way to the elevator. Her destination was the penthouse restaurant, where the mysterious person sending her text messages promised to be waiting.
The ride up only added to Mai’s now extensive list of irritations when she was forced to share the elevator with a particularly obnoxious couple that joined her halfway up. As if it wasn’t enough for them to insist on passing each other knowing glances and giggling every twenty seconds, the blonde woman bore a slight resemblance to Emmy. Mostly because they shared a hair color, but still. Mai remained silent and did her best to ignore them, passing the time by picturing the pair at her feet; gagged, begging for mercy with terrified eyes and only getting it after one of their well-trained tongues came between her legs...
Unfortunately, the Asian-American woman wasn’t spared the lovebirds’ presence until the elevator made it to the top floor. It wasn’t unexpected to see they all had the same destination. The lovers had dressed up, the man in a well-cut dinner suit that framed his slight but muscled frame very well, the woman in a vivid and long-skirted pink dress that included a slit up to her thigh. They stepped out first, not noticing Mai shoot a glance at the pleasing sight of their backsides as they made their way to the hostess.
The restaurant looked as Mai expected it to. Stylish, minimalist décor. A crescent moon and a few scattered stars shone down through the skylight. The place wasn’t packed, but there weren’t many open tables either. There was a table of businessmen laughing like frat boys, off to the side was a pair of parents trying to quiet a couple of young kids who clearly didn’t know how to behave in a restaurant, and a bridal party occupied the largest table. Mai scanned the whole room as she waited for the hostess to seat the lovebirds in front of her.
That’s when she caught sight of her blackmailer.
The woman was sequestered away in a private corner booth. She wore a straightforward black cocktail dress that accentuated her curvy figure even from a distance. Mai guessed she was in her forties. Blonde hair ten times more lush and vibrant than Emmy’s cascaded down her shoulders. Mai was positive this was the woman behind the text messages. She didn’t know exactly why. Was it because she was the only one here dining alone? Hard to say, but the instinct was confirmed in her mind when the woman gave her a wink from across the room.
When the lovebirds were out of the way and a hostess was available, Mai told her she was here to meet a ‘Miss Jones.’ One ‘right this way,’ later, the blackmailed woman was being taken directly to the woman who winked at her. The two of them locked eyes as Mai approached. The older woman wore a faint, polite smile that seemed neither threatening or worried.
“Miss Jones, I presume?” Mai said when the hostess finished seating her opposite the older blonde woman and left. She doubted it was the woman's real name.
“Call me Angela,” said the blonde. That probably wasn't her real name either. She gestured at the retreating waitress. “I hope you don’t mind, but I already ordered for you. I’m sure you would rather focus on the matter at hand than on what to eat. The food should arrive momentarily.”
Mai fought to keep her expression neutral. “Am I supposed to thank you?”
Angela shrugged. “You might, by the end of this conversation. It depends on how it goes. But first thing’s first.”
She pushed a manila folder at Mai. “Your pet is fine. Unharmed by my people, if not by you and your roommate. I’m sure bathing it is something of a chore, so I took the liberty of having it groomed. The first photo in that folder has the most recent of these updates, just to prove my words.”
She paused to take a sip of water. Mai glanced to her side. It was easy to see why the blonde woman chose a corner booth table. The circular leather seat was positioned perfectly to see anyone coming, while also letting Mai sit opposite her blackmailer and face the woman head on. When she saw no one was coming, Mai opened the envelop and pulled out just enough of the first picture. It was the most recent.
“It went a little wild when it realized we weren’t rescuing it. Needed some discipline, but I’m sure you know that better than most.”
There was the dog, looking cleaner and healthier than he had in months. His hair had been combed back; his pale skin washed to the point of shining. Even his bindings had been cleaned. His gag, his paws, all of it was looking almost new. There was no grime in sight. The only blemishes were a couple of red welts on his sides, already fading.
Mai had never seen them so dejected. Not once. She’d seen plenty of fear in his brown eyes, but that defiant little spark in his gaze never faded for her or Emmy. The truth of Angela’s words suddenly hit her. A mysterious group that snuck into the apartment and whisked him away? Why wouldn’t he have thought he was being rescued? He’d be desperate to hope for release, to be free of the crazy bitches who had taken him hostage for so long.
“What is this?” Mai demanded. She fought to keep her voice down, but it was a near thing. “We’re not rich enough or connected enough to be blackmailed. Emmy works at a car dealership and I sell goddam office supplies. You clearly don’t want to save him or help him. Is this revenge? Did he or his family do something to you, and you wanted him for himself? What… what the hell is this?”
The blonde woman listened with a patient, pleasant smile before she spoke.
“This is a job interview.”
Long seconds passed. Mai felt the urge to ask questions, to clarify that she’d heard right. But she didn’t ask. There wasn’t really a need. She knew what she heard. There was no mistaking it, as totally absurd as it was. A job interview. This woman had ordered people to break into Mai’s home, steal her stupid roommate’s stupid dog, and force her to drive all the way to Chicago for a job interview.
What the hell was she hiring for?
It took some time for Mai to find the right words. “Do you blackmail everyone you interview?”
“Not everyone.” There was a vicious gleam in Angela’s gaze. “It’s fairly rare for me to have to resort to twisting the arms of prospective employees this much, but I do have to be careful when I approach someone. My line of work is not for the faint of heart and does not allow for missteps.” She leaned back into the leather booth, her appraising eyes never leaving Mai.
Mai waved the manila envelope at her hostess. “And what kind of work is that?” she asked, though she had her suspicions.
Angela gave her an indulgent smile. “Look at the other photos.”
The younger woman paused, unsure of how exactly she should react, before reaching into the folder and feeling around. Mai’s fingers brushed passed the first photo, the one depicting the former Franklin Carson, and felt around until she pulled out one at random from deeper in the stack. Her gaze swept over the room to double check that no one was coming before she gave it a look.
This picture depicted a Latina woman on her knees who looked to be in her thirties. The camera was positioned at an angle, but it was impossible to miss the dull, glazed-over look in her eyes as the tanned-skin bitch stared straight ahead. And it was easy to see why they were like that. An emerald green ballgag fit snugly in her mouth, held in place by straps pulled taut enough to dig into her cheeks. Her arms were bound behind her back in a leather sheath, her legs with leather belts. She was naked. Red outlines were visible on her ass from the angle, and Mai could see a few red edges on her sides as well. She’d been flogged. It looked like she had a tattoo as well, but it was hard to tell.
Mai’s eyes flickered up to Angela, who answered with a raised eyebrow. Driven by curiosity and the heat between her legs, Mai looked to the next picture.
Another woman. This one was fat, but cute. Her black hair was done up in an adorable little bob cut. Her eyes were livelier, but that just meant they had the same hopeless look as the dog’s instead of the Latina’s dead gaze. She also wore a bright ballgag, and a steel collar. Mai spotted another tattoo on the same part of her body as the Latina’s, directly under the heart. But the slut’s breast covered up most of it.
The next picture was a man, as naked as the others. A real all-American type. Blonde, with a lantern square jaw and brown eyes. Mai thought of a quarterback she knew in high school, which made her realize with a start how young this man was. There was no way he was older than nineteen, twenty or twenty-one at the absolute most. He wore a leather collar, but that was it. No bondage beyond the leather band around his neck. Now the tattoo was clearly visible. It was a gold squid. Or maybe an octopus. It was something with tentacles.
After that was a dusky skinned Arabic woman in lingerie, followed by a skinny Native American guy in leather shorts. There was a short, stubby man in a gimp suit. A petite black woman covered in bright, tight red latex. A soft blonde pretty boy wearing a steel chastity cage. Some slut with long red hair decked out in pony gear.
Person after person was entrapped in bondage, branded with a tentacled tattoo on their chest, and as accepting of their lot as you could expect an unwilling person to be.
“Our food is here.”
Mai’s eyes snapped up. She shoved the photos back in the envelope and looked up to see the server bringing plates of delicious looking gourmet food. Not trusting herself to speak, Mai turned to Angela, who thanked the staff in a friendly tone before ushering them away. Her gaze did not return to Mai. Instead she looked to her plate, picked up her utensils, and began eating.
A few dozen erotic stories online passed through Mai’s head. Another minute passed before she said anything.
“Sex slaves.” Saying the words brought the situation to an entirely new level of reality. Those people in the photos were captives, the same as Franklin the dog. Unwilling, abducted captives. They were slaves. Property. Merchandise to be sold. “You sell sex slaves.” Her eyes widened as she remembered Angela’s earlier words. She’d called this meeting a job interview. “You want me to… sell… sex slaves.”
“Not just sell,” Angela admitted between mouthfuls. “Our team members are expected to be generalists with a working knowledge of everything we do. Sales are the lifeblood of our trade, of course, but you’ll also be a trainer and whatever else may be required of you. Even the waitressing you did in college may come in handy. The only thing you won’t be expected to do is technical support.” She paused long enough for another piece. “Are you interested?”
Mai spoke the first words that came to her mind more quickly than she would have liked. “Do I have a choice? I mean, you’re not going to let me walk away after seeing these pictures.” She slapped it on the table and shoved it back at her prospective employer. “If I say no, I’ll just end up in this envelope, won’t I?”
“Of course,” Was Angela’s instant answer. Then she laughed at Mai’s shocked expression before setting down her utensils and leaning forward. “Did you expect me to lie, dear? No, you’re right. By the end of the night you will be a team member, or you will be a product. When you leave this hotel, it will be with me. One way or the other.”
Mai could only stare. Whatever else she thought might have happened tonight, this was not it. “What if…” she trailed off. Angela went back to eating her food, giving Mai the chance to work through her thoughts.
She could bolt now… but they must be prepared for that, it was too obvious a solution. She could attack the blonde woman and take her hostage… but if Angela really handled slaves for a living (like Mai might soon be expected to!), she would be capable of defending herself. She could attack someone else and get arrested to escape… but then how easy would it be for a few bribes to divert Mai to a different kind of jail? Or for proof of Franklin’s life as a dog to ‘anonymously’ wind up in police hands?
She could also say yes.
“How did you find me?” Mai asked. “I can’t imagine there are a lot of people hiding pet slaves in their apartment.”
“More than you might think,” Angela winked. “Those who can’t afford to buy their slaves have to make their own fun. But no, crawling through missing person’s reports to find people with the proper predilections is not a very efficient method of headhunting employees. And it is not how you came to our attention.”
“You were going to take me.” The realization hit Mai as Angela spoke. “You were already watching me, or maybe Emmy, doing research. Then you found the dog and realized you could recruit instead. I bet it’s a hell of a lot easier to find slaves than it is to find people to sell them.”
Angela’s indulgent smile was answer enough.
And just like that, there was no more reason to stall.
“Yes,” Mai said out loud, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I’m interested.”
Because she was. Oh, was she interested. The knowledge that it was her only way out of this situation as a free woman barely registered. Mai wanted it. She wanted more than anything to have one of those unfortunate—no, that was the wrong word. There was nothing unfortunate about this. If those dumb sluts didn't want to be sex slaves, they shouldn't have gotten caught. They were exactly where they belonged.
And Mai wanted them under her control. Her breath was ragged as she thought of that muscular man from the photos kneeling in front of her, begging for the privilege to pleasure his owner.
“I thought so,” said Angela. “Now eat some of your dinner before it gets cold, and we can discuss the job.”
Mai was too stunned to glare or be annoyed. Her life had just been upended. What the hell had she just agreed to? There were so many practical considerations. Was she going to have to move? How much did the job pay, and how long before she could afford her own toy instead of having to share Emmy’s sloppy seconds?
Oh shit, Emmy.
A quick glance at her phone told Mai that her roommate had sent her too many texts demanding updates. Mai cursed under her breath and sent one back telling her to wait, she was still learning about the situation. It would probably take less than a minute to get an expletive filled answer back, so Mai shoved the phone back into its hiding place.
The twenty-six-year-old moved to eat. She wasn’t too hungry, honestly. But she should at least eat some of it. The sooner Angela decided it was time to move on, the sooner they could move on to more important things. But as she ate, she wondered about one thing.
Why wasn’t Emmy being ‘interviewed’ too? She was the one who took Franklin to begin with, after all. And as much of a dumbass as she could be at home, Mai knew the blonde wasn’t totally incompetent. She worked at a car dealership and wasn’t exactly in last place in the monthly sales numbers. Mai had her suspicions, but…
The two women ate. They discussed the job. Logistics, benefits, payment, how soon Mai could start. They didn’t go into too much detail on the business itself, or discuss how ‘product’ was obtained, trained, or sold. The focus was on Mai herself, and how she would do in the position. Angela told the younger woman how impressed she was with her level head. Mai and Emmy’s pet slave had been stolen from their home and she kept calm, researched what little information she was given, and prepared as well as she could without once losing her cool.
As they talked Mai kept careful track of the time, sending Emmy calming texts every so often to keep her from doing something stupid. But she didn’t go into detail. Her focus was on Angela.
Angela finished her meal; Mai left a portion of hers behind. When they left the table, they passed the lovebirds who had so annoyed Mai earlier in the night. Mai was surprised when the woman in the pink dress gave her a conspiratorial wink. She waited until they were in the elevator to ask Angela, who confirmed that yes, the young man and woman where her employees. They were agents tasked with observing Mai as she made her way to the rendezvous point. Mai guessed they were also supposed to help subdue her if she decided to make a scene.
The younger woman wondered how many other restaurant patrons were on Angela’s payroll, ready to enslave her once they got the go ahead. It was impossible not to feel paranoid.
But those paranoid thoughts were driven to the far corners of Mai’s mind when they reached Angela’s suite. Mai had never been in a hotel suite before, just regular rooms. But her new boss led her through a hallway that was nothing but suites. The most expensive, private section of an expensive, private hotel. This was the kind of place where millionaires and beyond might live for months, and walking inside Angela’s rooms (compliments of the hotel’s owner, who was one of Angela’s clients) revealed a world of luxury Mai never imagined she might experience.
And at the moment, she didn’t care, because kneeling at the center of the main room was a slave.
He was a gorgeous young man, probably in his early twenties. His rich brown hair was neatly combed, framing a strong jaw and a face that was visibly handsome even beneath the leather blindfold and plug gag that covered most of it. Mai felt a fierce desire to pull that plug out and shove the boy’s face between her legs. It was hard to tell if the well-defined muscles decorating his naked body came from football, wrestling, or if he’d been made to gain them after his capture. She just liked the sight of them in bondage. Her eyes passed over the same tentacled tattoo on his chest that all the pictured slaves had. His hands rested primly on his lap, chained together at the wrists. There was a gleaming steel collar fastened around his neck. His only clothing was a tight pair of shorts that did nothing to hide the outline of his assets.
Between the pictures Mai had seen and the topics of her conversation with Angela, the Asian-American woman had long since grown aroused. She was on fire, and it only intensified at the sight before her. Talk was one thing. Pictures another. Having a real, kidnapped, unwilling slave--one she didn’t have the annoying misfortune of having known in his previous life—was another thing entirely.
Mai realized she was biting her lip and stopped herself before she drew blood.
“Like what you see?”
A laugh escaped the younger woman. “Oh yes.” Her voice was breathless. “He—”
The younger woman nodded wordlessly. A blink and a shake of her head helped her focus. She took in more details, taking a closer look at the tattoo on his chest. It wasn’t big, maybe the size of a palm. Gold. The, tentacles swirling around a strip of black and white she now recognized as a barcode. Holy shit, he was branded with a barcode. Moving her gaze up to his head, Mai saw that there was something else… small black objects embedded in his ears.
“Is he—it—wearing earplugs?”
“That’s right,” Angela answered. “It doesn’t know where it is right now. An extra little layer of security. If it knew it was in a relatively public place it might start having some troublesome thoughts. Not that such thoughts would cause any real problems. Security here is well in hand. But we also don’t like to discuss the inner workings of the Club in front of product. Safety precautions, you understand.”
Mai gave another nod and stepped forward, only to stop short when Angela’s firm hand landed on her arm.
“You haven’t been hired yet, dear,” Angela said at Mai’s questioning look. “And that’s Club property. Employees only.”
What? Hadn’t she accepted? “I thought that—”
“I know what you thought. But the final decision rests with me, and there’s one more matter to deal with before we make it official.” Her hand left Mai’s arm with a pat. Angela strode forward and tapped her fingers on the young man’s shoulder twice.
It was a signal, because the slave surged forward, his knees remaining in place as his hands came to rest in front of him. He put those muscles to work making himself stiff as Angela sat on his back, crossing her legs as if he were any other chair. “Slaves generally make poor furniture without something extra to support their bodies. But it can be made to work if they’re strong enough and you’re not too heavy.” She patted his ass, then gestured to an actual chair at a nearby night table opposite her. “Have a seat.”
Mai went to the chair on autopilot, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight of the young man debasing himself under his beautiful mistress (trainer? Handler?). Human furniture. Mai wanted that. Angela’s words stirred the gears in her mind. She wasn’t a particularly large woman herself. A little chubby for her height maybe, but Mai was confident that she was around the same weight as Angela, who looked more fit but also bore curves and an ample chest. Mai could have a slave chair like that.
“What’s left?” She asked before Angela could speak. “If I don’t have it already, what do I need to do to get this job?” The faraway thought that this meeting could end with her in the slave’s position occurred to Mai. It was easy to ignore. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to get hired. None.
“Well, you’re definitely a strong candidate,” Angela joked, as if she hadn’t already made that clear. “We know you’re capable of handling at least one slave, and handling it well given your limited resources. Research into the performance reviews of your current employers speaks well of you, although they also mention certain issues. Losing your temper with our clients is a recipe for disaster.”
Mai fought down a grimace. From the restaurant to the office, building a rapport with customers and clients was always one of her weaknesses. But she knew asshole Angela was talking about, and that fucker deserved everything she’d said to him.
An image of that man bound and on his knees flittered through Mai's mind. Could she have him—?
“You confirmed today that you can keep a level head in stressful situations. Your response to being so brazenly blackmailed into a meeting with a faceless threat was to remain calm, research the address you were given, and come to the meeting with an escape plan; albeit one that skirted the order to come alone. That escape plan would not have worked, but your ignorance of how powerful we are can be forgiven in this situation. And that brings us to the final issue we need to discuss.”
Now it was clear. Mai found herself nodding. “Emmy.”
“That’s right,” Angela said. “Emily Richards. Born January fourteenth, aged twenty-six.” She paused long enough to run her hand over the young slave’s shoulders, feeling out his muscles. “What do you think I should do with her?”
Mai’s heart skipped a beat. “Sell her,” she said. Put the stupid bitch in a collar and sell her off.
Angela nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve certainly considered that option. She will certainly make a quality product if we go down that route. But I’ve found myself hesitating.”
A steely focus came over Mai. This was one more test. Angela had already made her decision. Selling Emmy was the obvious choice, and that’s what was going to happen. She just wanted to make sure Mai knew the real reasons why it was happening, and maybe if she could think past her biases. Mai felt a stab of annoyance at the whole song and dance.
“You think she could be an asset,” the Asian-American woman said out loud.
“Do I?” Angela’s voice was mirthful, her eyes mischievous. More details to confirm Mai’s assessment. “What makes you say that?”
“She’s an excellent salesperson,” Mai admitted instantly. “It comes easy to her. She could sell a minivan to a bachelor. Or him—” she gestured at the slave Angela was sitting on, “—to a gold star lesbian. If you hire her, she’ll earn you more than you’d get selling her within six months.”
One blonde eyebrow climbed up Angela’s face. “That’s a strong endorsement to come from someone who wants me to get rid of her.”
Mai shrugged. It was the truth. In her experience, trying to hide a product’s flaws never worked out well in sales. Mai liked to start with the cons before moving on to the pros. Starting this pitch with Emmy’s positive qualities was the same principle in reverse. “Emily Richards is a people person. She has excellent instincts for what people want and what they’re willing to put up with.”
Ironically, Mai herself was the best example of that instinct. Emmy had somehow known she would be on board with holding Franklin prisoner and making him their slave. How? Mai had no idea. But she’d been right.
“That instinct is what makes her great at sales, but it’s also why you should never let her anywhere near your business as anything but product. Because she’s all instinct and impulse. She acts, but she doesn’t plan. Getting the dog wasn’t a careful plan on her part, she just decided to do it when he pissed her off too much. If our neighbor wasn’t literally deaf, I would have come home to find her in handcuffs.” Mai paused long enough to take a deep breath.
“You’ve been watching us for months, so you must know what I’m talking about. She’s careless about bringing the dog upstairs where the windows are, to the point where she’s left the blinds open when people might be walking by. She takes risks not because she’s knows her limits and the odds of success, but because she acts without planning.”
A dozen other incidents flashed through Mai’s mind as she spoke. There was that time Emmy had ungagged the dog to play fetch when Mai had told her she was expecting a package, the times she openly discussed that she would be gone all weekend when he was in earshot. Those times she fed him food he was slightly allergic too, creating a big mess that Mai had to clean up.
“Six months, maybe a year, is all you’d get out of her before she’ll screw up and need to be sold anyway.” Mai gestured to their surroundings, to the hotel room. “And you’ve got the perfect opportunity to take her now. Isn’t that why you set this up in a hotel, hours away from our home?”
Now she fixed her prospective employer with a level stare. Angela seemed unaffected, holding on to that poker face with an ease Mai couldn’t keep herself from envying. “Selling her now is your best bet,” she finished.
A long moment passed before Angela responded. She sat there, giving Mai that appraising look. The slave was starting to strain under the effort of keeping her upright. His arms were starting to shake, his breathing growing a little more ragged. Mai didn’t let herself pay attention to him—to it—for more than a few moments. The slave wasn’t important, Angela was.
“At first I was going to give her the same offer I’m giving you,” Angela said. “You said it yourself, it’s much harder to find employees than products. But over the course of our observations I realized selling her was the better option. Your assessment is correct. She’s too impulsive and lacks any meaningful sense of caution.” The older woman let out a lamenting sigh. “It’s a shame, really. She’s a born saleswoman...”
“But the risks aren’t worth it,” Mai finished for her.
“In this line of work, they are unacceptable,” Angela spoke with finality. Her expression sharpened, eyes narrowing. Abruptly, she stood up. An audible, relieved gasp escaped the slave as Angela stepped over to a nearby flatscreen. They were in a full suite, with full amenities. For the first time, Mai let herself take in the luxury she was surrounded with. The four-poster bed, the enormous bathroom she could glimpse through a slightly open door.
The screen came to life, revealing a black and white security feed of a bar in the hotel’s lobby. There was a sizeable crowd, as it was now late enough on a Saturday night that people were out in full force. There were businessmen, younger looking guests looking to get laid, a few groups of ladies openly ogling the attractive bartender, the works. It took Mai a few second to find Emmy sitting there, nursing a drink and glaring at anyone who came to close to her.
“Our original plan was to lace her drink,” Angela explained. “Enough to leave her woozy, but not to knock her out. Then we would have hotel security escort her out of the bar and into a private room, where she would be bagged and prepared for transport.”
Mai stood from her own chair and stepped forward to stand next to the older woman. “You want me to lure her away,” she said. It was not a question. “I can text her, tell her to go somewhere private without you having to risk making a scene.”
“That’s right,” Angela fixed Mai with a bright smile. “You can tell her to come up here if you wish. That way you can personally express your displeasure with her, before she is made into product.”
It was more tempting that Mai expected it to be. Any minor attraction she had ever felt towards Emmy had long since been buried by their history, but the thought of punishing her for years of impulsive, irritating bullshit was exciting. Still, at the end of the day, Mai just wanted to be done with the stupid bitch.
“That won’t be necessary,” Mai said out loud. “I appreciate the offer, but the sooner she’s out of my life, the happier I’ll be.”
Angela nodded, though there was a slight widening of her eyes that made Mai suspect she was genuinely surprised for the first time tonight. “Very well,” she said. “In that case, if you’ll send her a message telling her to come to room 713, we’ll take care of her.”
“Don’t you mean you’ll take care of it?” Mai asked. She heard Angela chuckle as she pulled out her phone and wrote up a text. They just told me the dog’s in room 713. Fuckers are making us get him out of the hotel ourselves. I'm on my way, meet me there.”
A moment after hitting send, Mai watched Emmy read her phone on the screen. She was up seconds later, slamming some cash down on the counter before marching away from the bar. Together, Mai and Angela watched successive cameras—the lobby, the elevator, the hallway—as Emmy made her way to room 713.
At no point did the dumbass send Mai a reply or ask how she was going to get into the hotel room without a key. How the hell had they lasted so long keeping Franklin prisoner? Mai was starting to wonder if Angela’s ‘Club’ had a hand in covering for them.
“So. Do I have the job?” Mai asked.
Emmy was almost to her destination, taking her final steps as a free woman. There was a brunette maid going through the rooms, her cart located at the door next to room 713. Or perhaps she was called up for something specific, given the time. Or—Mai suddenly realized—she was one of Angela’s people.
“Of course,” Angela said. “Once she’s secure, you’ll officially be an employee of the Kraken Club.”
The Kraken Club. Mai thought back to the golden tattoo she seen on all the slaves tonight. A squid, she had thought. And she’d wondered if it was an octopus before seeing one up close. But no, they were krakens.
Emmy’s abduction was swift. She moved to pound on the door once she arrived. Before her fist could make contact, it swung open. The camera feed showed her from the back, so her face wasn’t visible. But Mai had no difficulty imagining the look of confusion on her soon-to-be-former-roommate’s face right before the maid in the hallway shoved her inside and followed an instant later.
Angela switched to a new camera feed, showing the interior of room 713 as two burly men, one white and one black, grabbed Emmy before she could regain her balance. She didn’t even get a chance to cry out. One man pulled her up to his chest, pinning her arms to her body and tightly clamping his hand on her mouth while the other swept up her legs before they could start kicking. They carried the blonde to the bed while the ‘maid’ shut the door.
Emmy was trying to struggle. Mai could see her exerting herself at full force. She tried to kick and buck her way out of her captors’ grip, but they held fast and allowed her no slack. Her futile wriggling intensified as the maid came forward with a syringe. Emmy shook her head furiously and to no avail. The man's grip was too strong, and held her too still. There was nothing she could to do stop the brunette maid from jabbing her in the neck. Within seconds, Emmy’s struggles faded, her limbs visibly slackening.
Mai and Angela watched as the abduction team—clearly a well-oiled machine—let the blonde slut fall limply onto the bed. The Asian-American woman thought she noticed the limbs twitching once they were free. But if Emmy was still fighting, it was for nothing. The team unceremoniously stripped her out of that nice red dress she was wearing. Her unspectacular underwear followed seconds later, followed by her shoes.
“Can I keep the heels?” Mai asked. “I’ve always thought they would suit me better than her.”
“Unfortunately, not,” Angela answered. “All of the product’s clothing will be destroyed.”
Once Emmy was naked, the abductors pulled out a large green-and-gold leather bag. Emmy was lifted up and set inside, almost gingerly. Now that she was unconscious the team was being much more careful with her. That made sense. There was no point in damaging the merchandise now that it wasn’t fighting back. They zipped up the bag, revealing the gold coloring was an elaborate kraken design.
“You really take your brand seriously,” Mai observed.
More than a chuckle, Angela replied with genuine laughter. “We have more competition than you might think,” she answered. “And we occasionally get customers that like to watch this part. Particularly for special orders.”
Before Emmy was fully zipped into the suit, the team paused. The black man brought out something Mai couldn’t clearly see and carefully put it into Emmy’s mouth. Mai noticed the tube sticking out of it for the first time, and she realized it was a breathing apparatus just as the bag was fully closed.
One more surprise came a moment later, when one of the men did something to make the bag shrivel and shrink into a nearly skin-tight sheathe. It must be vacuum sealed, effective bondage on its own. Mai could see the outline of Emmy’s hands pulled tight against her sides and the line where her legs were separated. The sealed bag turned Emmy into a helpless worm, totally incapable of defending itself even if it were conscious.
The final step was carting the new product away. The brunette maid brought her cart into the room long enough for the newly bagged slave to be placed in one of the large plastic garbage cans. An appropriate place for her, in Mai’s opinion. Before she knew it, the slave was covered up and being pushed out of the room to her new life.
“Careful there, you’ll draw blood if you keep that up.”
Mai blinked at the realization she was once again biting her lip. “Thanks,” she told her new boss. “What happens now? How are we going to cover her disappearance?”
“We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” Angela said. She turned off the TV and turned to fully face her new employee. “For now, don’t you think you should celebrate your new job?”
“Celebrate?” Mai asked. “I mean, sure, but I’m not…” the full realization of where she was standing hit her. A luxury hotel suite, at night, with… Mai whipped her head back to the male slave a few feet away from her. He hadn’t moved, was still holding his position on his hands and knees as if Angela had never gotten off him.
“That’s right,” Angela said. “Check the bathroom.”
For a moment, Mai stared at her new boss. Angela’s welcoming expression was as warm as ever. Then she moved to follow that suggestion.
Inside the bathroom was a chest. Mai dragged it out with a little bit of effort. The thing wasn’t as heavy as it looked, but it wasn’t exactly weightless either. “
We keep chests like this in our showrooms,” Angela explained. “They’re for our customers to test out products they’re interested in.”
Once she had it near the bed Mai opened it up and gasped. Gags, leather bindings, tape, anal plugs, crops, an honest to god whip…
“Have fun, dear,” said Angela from further away. Mai looked up to see the older woman at the door. “This room is booked through the night. Enjoy everything it has to offer, and we’ll discuss other matters in the morning. Your starting date, and what to do with your dog. Will you be wanting it back?"
Mai thought about those sad, begging eyes she had come to know so well.
No. She wanted her own property, not her former roommate's leftovers. Playing with the dog had been a fun learning experience. But now Mai was going to have new slaves to play with. Slaves who would never know her as anything other than a Mistress in control of their lives. She would be a like a goddess to them.
Still, there was some lingering sentimentality there. Mai could request he be sold to someone relatively kind. Not lax, he needed a firm hand and a sense of discipline in his life. It kept him from getting lazy and uppity. But there was no need to send him to someone who would needlessly torture or torment him.
But what would that really accomplish? He was going to stay a slave either way, and there was no sense in letting Angela or any other employees Mai would soon meet think she would be soft of any of the product.
"That won't be necessary. Sell him off too."
"Very well," Angela spoke with all the gravitas of someone asking what the weather was like. Nothing in her tone suggested she was about to continue a man's life in unwilling bondage slavery.
"There’s a fob next to the bed if you need to call for help for whatever reason. Push the button on it and those two gentlemen you saw on the camera will come running to help.”
Staring, stunned, Mai nodded. “Thank you,” she said. A smile slowly broke out across her face. “Thank you,” she repeated.
Angela replied with a wink. She shut the door, leaving Mai alone with slave. The handsome, well-built and amazingly subservient slave.
Mai absently pulled out a crop out of the chest as she moved to stand over the slave. He hadn’t reacted to any of this, still deafened by the earplugs and still crouched in position as a chair. Mai sat down and felt her heart flip as the slave shook ever so slightly at her sudden weight. Her free hand fell on his shoulders, traveling back and forth as she felt him.
Without warning, Mai gave the slut a smack on the ass. He grunted and shook under her weight but stayed upright. Mai giggled, excitement and heat exploding within her.
She stood and tapped him on the shoulder, the same way she'd seen Angela do. He shifted upright, coming to his knees with no hesitation. Taking him by she shoulders, Mai turned him around until she could sit down on the bed with him facing her. And he did it! No hesitation. No resistance. Just quick, unthinking obedience.
He was a slave. He would do anything Mai ordered him to. Anything.
This was going to be fun.