Human Commodity (16 page)

The two of them stared at Daria as she worried her lip in her sleep.
 
“Vanessa’s kid, huh?” Terry asked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Damon replied.
 
“I don’t want her shutting down again.
 
I’ve already had her chained to the bedpost and asking me how to earn the right to use my ‘exercise’ equipment.”

“Don’t worry about it, Damon.
 
They’re different.
 
We got permission to bring the other girls upstairs too, and they’re asleep in our beds.
 
Neither one of us saw the need or benefit of caging them,” Rodrigo said.

“So, what’s the plan?” Terry asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know.
 
I think we could end up with some primo commodities if we take our time, and earn some big ass commissions.
 
For the most part, I’m enjoying working a different training routine,” Damon admitted.

Before the two trainers left, Damon reminded them, “Watch your girls around the food panel.
 
They haven’t seen them before, and Daria almost got her head guillotined off trying to figure out where her salad came from.”
 
The men were still laughing while they walked to their rooms.

It was close to midnight, and Damon was surprised when the phone rang.
 
“Don’t say it came from me, but Phillip told me that Vanessa is in the initiation room.”

“Thanks, Clarett.”

“Nighty-night, fuckbuddy.”

“Same to you.”

Damon slid out from under Daria, and he tucked the blanket around her.
 
He thought about what he would say when the elevator doors opened in the basement.
 
Mason and Phillip were standing there when he stepped out.
 
“Took you long enough,” Mason laughed.

“I figured Clarett would be calling you,” Phillip smiled.

“It’s just that I’ve never seen her,” Damon admitted.

“Come on.
 
Meet the mighty adversaries we’ve been wielding our evil spears against for over twenty years,” Mason chuckled.

Damon was amazed.
 
There were a dozen worn down looking women, though angrily scowling at the men.
 
He spotted Vanessa immediately.
 
Daria looked a lot like her, without the pinched lines of angry years of endless defeat.
 
Her eyes were a little frightening.
 
They burned with whatever vestige of youth she had left, in a crazy wild-horse wide stare.

“It’s not hereditary, Damon.
 
I thought it might be, at first.
 
Vanessa’s madness is by her own design,” Eddie assured him.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Go for it,” Mason said.
 
“Anything to piss the bitch off is good with me.
 
They wanted my cock for fuck’s sake.”

Damon walked up to Vanessa, and he pulled her aside.
 
The men watched her eyes get impossibly wider, and spittle dripped down her chin as she began shrieking and bowing over in agony.
 
“You bastard.
 
You bastard.
 
You bastard,” she screamed over and over again.

As Damon prepared to walk to the elevator, Phillip asked, “What the fuck did you say to her?”

Damon turned and smiled.
 
“I told her I was going to turn Daria into the highest valued commodity SHCI has ever had.”

Damon left them chuckling as he rode the elevator to the eleventh floor.
 
He strode down the hall to his suite, and found Daria lying where he had left her.
 
He knelt by the sofa, lifted the blanket, and Daria stretched to the edges of the couch.
 
Her sleepy eyes opened.
 
“I’m cold.”

“Come to bed.”
 
Damon reached down his hand.
 
Daria shuffled, leaning into him in exhaustion for support.
 
He pulled back the thick comforter and she slithered under the warmth while he shucked his leather breaches.
 
Except for Clarett, no other woman had ever been in his bed.
 
He had even left level ten slaves hanging in some torment when he brought them to his chambers.
 
Damon curled behind Daria and she gripped his arm in her sleep to wrap it around her.
 
She sighed when he stroked her breast, and scooted her bottom against his stiff cock.

An hour later, Damon was questioning his right to be called a trainer.
 
His cock was stiff and aching, and every time he moved Daria made a frustrated sound and backed her bottom against him again.
 
Fuck… the evil spear wins.
 
Damon moved his hand… the one not stroking and lightly tweaking the erect nipple… down across her belly.
 
His finger slowly stroked through her fattened lips, deeper until they found the erratic landscape of her soft folds.

Her response was to push her ass against his cock, but Damon was not sure if she was trying to evade his finger or further torment him.
 
His finger stroked, finding her hole and entering an inch, then retreating to spread the juices she leaked.
 
Two fingers spread her and another found her clit.
 
He heard her gasp, and he knew that she was awake.

“Are you going to spear me now?” she whispered.

“Yes.”
 
He felt her quiver.
 
Damon wished he knew more about what little she had been told.
 
A part of him was nervous that she would melt down to a point where she could never be reached again.
 
“Calm down,” he whispered into her hair.

“I’m afraid.”

“I know you are.”
 
Damon changed tactics.
 
“I met your mother.”

Daria’s head turned towards him in the darkness.
 
“You did?”

“Yes.
 
Mason brought her here because she tried to hurt us… and you.”

Daria made probably the only comment she could have that Damon had not expected.
 
“No, Master.
 
She never tried to hurt me.
 
She only wants to hurt SHCI.
 
She doesn’t care enough about me to waste her time trying to hurt me.”

Damon was speechless… left with an empty feeling… a hollowed out despair for her.
 
The cruelty of Vanessa’s abandonment was so complete that the girl did not believe her mother cared enough to even hurt her.
 
She felt like her mother’s instrument of revenge… and the true tragedy was that was all Vanessa had ever considered her extraordinary daughter to be.

“Mason met her?”

“Yes, he was there.”

“Will he hate me now, because I’m her daughter?”

“No, Daria.
 
Mason won’t hate you.
 
You’ll probably never even meet him.
 
Most commodities don’t.”

Daria was silent for a moment.
 
“Did you talk to my mother?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I told her that I was going to make you the most valuable commodity that Mason ever had.”

“What did she say?”

Damon squeezed her.
 
“She went OTR… totally.
 
She freaked out and started screaming.”

Daria thought for a moment.
 
“If I was Mason’s most valuable commodity, would it make up for what mother did to SHCI?”

Damon strummed his thumb on her nipple and felt her pelvis move forward into his finger.
 
“Do you want to be?”

Daria froze for a moment.
 
She shuffled around and leaned over him, with her arms resting on his chest, her ponytail sliding by his shoulder, and even in the darkness he sensed her gaze.
 
“I’ve been raised in ignorance behind walls, because of a planned pregnancy by a radical who was bent on destroying a system that moved the economy.
 
I’ve had no say or ability to credit or discredit either system.
 
SHCI may be a perverted fix, but it is the only one that any bastard had the balls to employ… and my mother was responsible for blocking and trying to destroy it.
 
Yes, Damon.
 
If becoming Mason’s top selling commodity will compensate him for what my mother has done… and my mother knows that I did this… then, yes.
 
I want to be.”

Damon was astounded.
 
This was the young woman whose mental facilities he had been joking about?
 
Holy fuck!

“Damon, can you help me do this?”

A few seconds of darkness and silence passed.
 
“Master,” his deep voice said softly.

Daria leaned down and found his lips in the darkness.
 
She whispered against them, “Master.”

Chapter VII

“We have to get beyond this, Daria.
 
You go into shock when you’re too frightened.”

Daria thought for a moment, and she remembered what happened in the clinic.
 
“It’s my POHO training… I don’t know if I can work around it, but I don’t want the tranquilizers.
 
They make me fuzzy and disoriented.”

“What will make you comfortable enough that you won’t go into shock?”

Daria thought for a moment.
 
“Claree.
 
If Claree is with me, I’ll be all right.”

“You want Clarett to be here when I fuck you?”
 
Now, I’m OTR.
 
Daria had explained her initial decision in Phillip’s office to play dumb, that had both hindered and helped the day’s discoveries.
 
He thought of Clarett’s description of how Daria processed information.
 
“That’s not going to happen.
 
You’re going to deal with it, Daria.”

“But the evil spear…”

Damon fisted her hair and pushed her head down towards his crotch.
 
“Touch it, look at it… fuck… taste it if you want to.
 
Stay down there until you agree that my cock is not an ‘evil spear’.
 
It was, perhaps, three minutes before he felt a shaking finger touch his erection.
 
Slowly, soft hands began exploring, and it was the most arousing feeling Damon had ever experienced.
 
For a sadist who thrived on delivering pain, the feather caresses were at complete odds to what he usually desired.

Oh, shit!
 
Oh, shit!
 
The liquid warmth of her tongue darted to taste him, and then began to lavish the length of his turgid stiffness.
 
And she did not leave out his balls…
hell no!
 
They were as much an enigma for her to decipher through touch and taste as his cock had been.
 
He maneuvered them sideways, and Daria said softly, “Damon, do you want me to stop?”

“No, Daria.
 
You’re doing fine.”
 
Oh, shit!
 
Damon buried his face between her thighs, while her tongue licked cat-like strokes along his balls… for a while.

Daria felt her thighs parted, and a tongue swept along her privates.
 
Instead of being disgusting or feeling weird, she pushed against his chin in frustration.
 
“That feels better than when you were holding my breast,” she admitted in a whisper.

Damon sat up and pushed her onto her back.
 
She felt his finger travel from her forehead, down her nose, and down to her chin.
 
“I want you to lie still, okay?”

“You’ll tell me before you spear me… right?”

Damon chuckled softly.
 
“I’ll wait until you
ask
me to spear you.”
 
He lowered between her legs again, and returned to his seductive stroking and lapping of her.

Daria felt his tongue sweep up and flick a hard nub down there, and she gasped and tried to squeeze her thighs together.
 
She was distracted by the series of little shocks, while he stretched her dripping channel with his fingers.
 
As Damon tortured her clit, her pussy began squeezing and pushing into his fingers.
 
All of a sudden, she gasped, “I’m ready now.”

Daria held his shoulders and searched for his face in the darkness while he entered her.
 
It stung for a second, but it was she who wrapped her long legs around him and pulled him inside of her.
 
The sensation of the spear moving in and out against the walls of her cursed cavern was not anything like she had expected.
 
It was nothing like the horrible, painful experience her mother’s rantings had led her to believe.
 
“Oh… oh…” Daria felt something rushing and building inside her.
 
This
did
scare her, but she did not feel the fog that sometimes crossed over to cloud her mind.
 
Instead, she felt her cavern tighten around his spear in jerky grabs, a flush of fluid, and the most delicious experience she had ever had.

For his own part, Damon had been holding back, and when he felt her climax he erupted before she finished quivering.
 
She curled into him again, and just as he began to drift off, she whispered.
 
“Can we do it again?”

“In the morning,” he yawned.
 
“Maybe in the morning.”

In the morning, which was admittedly closer to noon because they had been up so late, the phone awoke them.
 
Daria listened to the confusing one-sided responses to the conversation.
 
Damon laid down the phone, and walked into the kitchen to find Daria knocking on the food panel.
 
“Hello?
 
Could you send up some fruit and oatmeal, please?”
 
Daria turned to Damon.
 
“I’ve tried pancakes with honey, and even cold cereal… but he won’t answer me.”

“It doesn’t work that way, and besides, your Master determines when and what you eat.”

“My Master was busy conspiring with Phillip and Eddie on the phone, and I was hungry.”
 
Daria watched Damon lift a panel to expose a pad, and rapidly enter numbers.
 
“What did they want?”

Damon could have left her in the dark, but he decided it might keep her from being distracted about her friends if he told her.
 
“They’ve located Lizzie and Annie’s fathers and contacted them.
 
They never even knew about their daughters, but they want them.
 
Phillip and Eddie agree it might be the best solution, because they’re afraid they can never adjust to training.”
 
Damon watched her gaze flicker like a computer screen digesting information.

A flash of recognition sparked across her eyes.
 
“I see.”

“Nancy wrote their names in her notes.
 
There was a question mark next to Vanessa’s name.”
 
Damon lifted her chin.
 
“It’s not that he doesn’t want you; they don’t know who he is, Daria.”

“Thank you.
 
You’re pretty smart to have figured out that’s what I was thinking.”

“Other than missing your friends, it’s the only thing you could have been thinking.”
 
With the disregard Vanessa had for her, Damon figured that Daria would reach the conclusion that her father did not want her either.

“Would you ask Phillip to tell them that I’ve left with my father too?
 
We said our goodbyes before we were deployed, and it will hurt too much to see them again.
 
I think it would bother them if they knew that I was left here.”

“I’ll call him.”
 
Damon had already talked with Clarett, because he was worried about Daria being left behind.
 
She gave him an even grimmer picture of Daria’s lonely childhood, as she described that Lizzie and Annie had paired off at a young age because Daria would get distracted.

“How do we start my training?” Daria asked.

“I have to figure it out, still.” Damon replied.

“How do the other commodities do it?”

“They go through levels, and then a decision is made whether to auction them individually or put them into a lot.”

“I want to go individually.
 
I want Mason to know when I’m gone that we repaid him.”
 
Daria finished her breakfast and smiled up at him.
 
“I guess you’d better take me to level one, Master.”

“It’s not like being here, Daria.”

“I know, Master, but if I stay here much longer, I’m going to like you too much to want to leave.
 
That would be selfish, so it’s better if you put me in with the others.
 
I’ll learn.
 
I’ll be the best.”

“Daria, there are things that are going to scare you.
 
The training…”

“I trust you, Master.”
 
Daria reached out her hand and laid it on his.
 
“You know what to look for, Damon.
 
You’ll know when I need time to adjust.”

Daria spent only three days in level one training, because it was primarily an adjustment level for new contracts to learn to accept their status.
 
Daria was already willing to train, but she had a difficult time remembering to acknowledge Damon as Master.
 
When she was getting it right… most of the time… he decided to move her away from the distraction of wailing contracts.

They arrived at level two, and Daria shared the room with one other girl.
 
The stark gray walls were as monotonous as they had been on level one, but the equipment was new.
 
Daria found herself stretched to her toes against a post again, and she thought of the time in Damon’s bedroom when he had caressed her body.
 
This time, her wide eyes stared at the crop in his hand.

She knew she could not protest… and he knew how it frightened her to be struck.
 
The first day, the blows were deliberately gentle.
 
By the third day, the crop was leaving welts.
 
Daria focused on the beam, and she felt the crop come down across her bottom again.
 
Her hips rocked forward and she groaned, “Oh, god… five, Master.”

Damon was amazed at her focus and commitment to the training.
 
He enjoyed the terror and pain from the other commodities in the room, and while he was working with them he would turn to see Daria silently staring as if she was trying to gauge the proper responses to what he did to her.
 
After a month, his fascination with her lessened as training her did not present much of a challenge.
 
There were a few times he had to stall and repeat until she stopped fogging over, but other than that she progressed at a steady pace.

He found himself searching out Clarett between sessions.
 
The frantic, sexual heat they felt for each other had never dulled over the years.
 
Slowly, Clarett began suggesting a plan… almost a conspiracy… that held a fascinating opportunity.
 
After two decades in SHCI, they were both ready for a change.

They progressed to the whip, and Daria balked and shrieked.
 
“Come.”
 
Damon demanded.
 
He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the wall.
 
“Put your arms up, slave.”

“Y..y..yes, Master.”
 
Daria reached up and felt him secure her wrists, and then her legs were spread and secured.
 
When the lash came down, it wrapped around her thighs and the thin tail nipped the soft inner skin two inches below her pussy.
 
“Aaayeee… three, Master,” Daria wailed.

It was a month before she was moved to level three.
 
Damon secured her so that she was facing him.
 
Now, she focused on his dark eyes, and she watched the change in them, the intense passion, as the whip kissed her nipples or slashed across her pussy.
 
It was strange how it was becoming easier to separate herself from the actual sting as the leather stroked and nipped, leaving little red bites and long bruising lines… but never breaking the skin.
 
Daria marveled at her Master’s precision.

At level four she met the cane, and it was far worse than the whip or the crop.
 
Because the burning agony was extreme and quickly surfaced, Daria was able to retreat from the torture much faster.
 
She screamed her count with streaming tears and sobs… but she really only experienced the pain at night, curled onto the thin pad of her cage with nothing to distract her in the darkness.
 
That
was when the bruises would begin to throb, and her quiet sobs would join those of the other contracts.

Damon had begun fucking her again, and using her pussy or mouth indiscriminately with the other girls.
 
She wondered if he ever thought about the night she spent in his room, and did not know that the other contracts wondered why the Master seemed to be more vicious with her punishments.
 
She stayed in level five for almost three months, until the pain truly registered in another realm and she managed to gasp out climaxes amidst the Master’s plunging.

Level five was the first time Daria had heard whispers that the compound might be stockpiling AGs.
 
Two trainers came in and took Damon aside, and Daria could only make out some of the words.
 
They seemed to be discussing how the auburn haired girls with green eyes were not being shipped out.
 
Their market price was being kept artificially low, and the men wondered if Daria would be placed in a lot of AG19s before she reached level ten.

This panicked Daria, and she worked harder on training.
 
Her plan was to go to auction, not to be sold with a lot.
 
It was important to her that Mason recognize it was Vanessa’s daughter who brought so much money into the firm.

She gazed down, fascinated with the winding coils of thin rope circling her breasts.
 
The nipple clamps bit their torturous teeth into the tightened nubs that the Master used to gently tweak and brush.
 
Now, they were taking on the purplish-blue color… the color that Daria remembered from the frightening time in the clinic.
 
What a hazy fucked up disaster that had been… when she froze and they had to drug her.

Not any more… Claree had been right.
 
All Daria needed was time to figure out how to put herself into ‘slave’ mode.
 
She was immersed in her role of US19AG1427
.
 
A role… that’s all it is… another role.