Human Commodity by Candace Smith

hundred dollar sweater.   I expect to see it returned with my things.”
    Without warning, Damon reached out with the scissors, and clipped through the lacy material of the bra holding her breasts.   “They’re real,” Damon noted.   “God, I can’t wait to get some ropes and clamps on those puppies.”
    Monique tried to cover her slightly sagging orbs… another distressing sign that time was marching on… and tears began to fill her eyes.   “Please… this isn’t what I wanted.”
    “Phillip, grab me some training bands and a gag, will you?   I don’t feel like fighting her or listening to her whining while we walk to the clinic.”
    Monique thrashed and cried while Damon overpowered her and locked a metal collar around her throat.   It had two six-inch chains hanging down from the back of it, each ending in a metal wrist cuff.   Her arms were twisted so that her hands pointed up towards her shorn hair and rested uncomfortably on her shoulder blades.   She continued to scream and curse, until Damon squeezed her jaw and forced a red foam ball into her mouth.   “That’s better.”   He looked at Phillip.   “You coming to her initiation?”
    “Don’t wait on me.   I have six other girls to move through here today.”   Phillip watched the former model being roughly guided through the door to the underground passage.   Monique… Mary Bentley… was soon forgotten as Phillip studied the file of a paralegal in a real estate law firm.   Her attempt at blackmailing one of her bosses over ending their affair had produced a contract that Phillip understood was forged.   The executive at the firm that had swindled the land and buildings that housed SHCI’s financial empire had paid them to take the little problem off their hands… and lose her in the world of commodities.
     
    Monique found herself staggering down a dark, uneven passageway, and one of her expensive heels slipped off her foot.   Damon made note to pick it up on his next trip, and continued to lead the girl forward with a hand gripped around her right breast.   Monique was shrieking behind the gag, and she was terrified of the pain in the massive attribute that had given her and sexual partners so much pleasure on her rise to the top of her career.
    She hobbled in pistoning movements, up and down on the one shoe until the thin peg broke off and caused her to twist her ankle.   She shrieked in pain, but the man kept pulling her forward and she had no choice but to kick off the injured footwear when her foot left the cement.
    Her expensive French nylons were shredding under her feet, and the makeup she had conned Gertie into artfully applying to her face that morning, was running down her face in muddy streaks.   Monique had lied and convinced the cosmetician to push off a ‘paying’ appointment by saying that she had an interview for a trade magazine.   Gertie was the only one that she trusted to fill the little lines at the corners of her eyes.
    They reached the end of the darkened hallway, and the man kept tugging her forward.   When she balked or stalled, he squeezed her breast harder, and it felt like the meat was sponging and churning inside of her.   Her terrified mind barely registered muted screams behind doors they were passing, and she was finally led into a small room where her breast was released to throb into blood circulating fullness again.   She glanced down at the bruises forming, and sobbed.
    A machine spat out tags that were inserted into leather restraints, and Monique made a feeble attempt to kick out a foot when the man lifted her leg and ripped the nylon over her ankle.   After her ankles were cuffed, her wrists were released and they fell in numbed strain to her sides.   Damon did not give her time to rub the chafed skin before he wrapped her identifying cuffs around her wrists and secured them behind her back.   The collar was replaced, and Damon reached forward to center the commodities