Company property

In hindsight, it is almost impossible to believe that none of those classmates, fathers, uncles, neighbors, friends, made any claims on us. Sure thing, they abused us for their pleasure, but when they were done they just turned away from us and continued their day. Another girl would be available again when they would want one, they radiated. Mr. Walker put a collar on his wife, but he was generally considered to be a bit of an oddball so nobody paid attention. TRAP initiation had come and gone, and they just supposed that was it; this was the new world order now, and nothing more would change. They would soon regret that.

Because they were wrong, so wrong. Since we were objects with no rights now, anyone could claim us. And if these friends and family and acquaintances didn't, someone else would. The SWAT team of SerfDom Inc came to my school three days later. A horde of guys in black suits jumped out of their convoy in a bustle of action and determination. They entered the building and spread out to classrooms, canteens, gyms, the library. They grabbed every girl they could find, put a collar and leash on her, and linked her to the girl before her in a far cry of a polonaise. When two dozen had been assembled in a neat line, they were rushed to vans outside and stowed inside. Some of the boys and teachers tried to protest, but the invading men just pointed out that it was their legal right to seize any uncollared neck, establishing ownership doing so; then they just pushed the sputtering men to the side to continue their collecting.

Everything happened extremely fast. Under ten minutes later, I was jammed in the back of one of the vans with twenty fellow captives. There were no windows in the back, but I could feel us starting to drive.

When the car doors opened up again, we were in a parking garage without any daylight. We were hurled out of the van under merciless white neon lights, and driven up a staircase into the center of a huge hall. It resembled a hangar on a big airfield, all grey concrete and aluminum, with large section numbers painted on the walls every ten yards. The men in black transferred us to men in white here, then descended the stairs again, presumably to collect the next load of female flesh.

The hangar was buzzing with activity. Hundreds of men in white overalls were moving around, driving lorries, typing on computers, and handling equipment. In between them were the small collar chain gangs of girls; our van appeared to have been just one of many delivering their cargoes here. Though we were still clothed, most were already naked, but the men were so consumed with their activities that they didn’t even have time to feast their eyes on all that lush flesh scattered throughout the hall.

The processing of my chain gang was well organized. We weren’t undressed; instead our clothing was cut from our bodies with scissors. We were inspected for any body hair below the neck, and any fluff found was quickly waxed and eradicated. In addition to the collars, leather fetters were put around our wrists and ankles and closed with a small padlock. Though they weren’t connected to anything for now, the metal rings extending from them made it clear that they might be at a moment’s notice. We opened our mouth for a man who wanted to inspect our teeth, and bent over for another one who wanted to inspect our asshole, and a dozen things more. Everything was recorded on the ubiquitous tablets they carried around.

The men were doing all of this as a purely technical procedure, completely devoid of any emotion, like ranchers dealing with their cattle. There was gloating nor compassion; they didn’t revel in our youthful bodies and there were no bulges in those stark white overalls. They were just handling us, executing their orders and deriving some sort of professional pride from doing it as efficiently as possible. But that didn’t make it any less humiliating; in fact the clinical handling of our slavery was even worse when they didn’t even get aroused by it.

They only addressed us with very simple commands: “Get up”, “Spread your legs”, “Hold this”. When they were talking between themselves, it was as if we weren’t even there. The guy who measured my pussy pressure (a procedure where an empty balloon was inserted, then pumped up with a set amount of air) was discussing the transfer of a football player between two teams with the guy who was measuring exactly the same thing on the girl right next to me.

Along the sides of the hangar, long lines of bunk beds were set up against the walls. When all the registrations and measurements and examinations had been done, I was taken to the first free one. I lay down on my back, my head to the wall, and two men tied my arms, shoulders and breasts to it with a long and complicated knotted rope. Then they took my legs, pulled them slightly upwards and spread them as wide as they could drag them, and knotted them up as well. As a result, my freshly waxed pussy was ripped of all her defenses and spraddled wide towards that whole huge hangar. The eyes of anyone observing me would first be drawn to my pussy, then to my tied breasts, before he even noticed my face. Then again, all the girls at that long line of bunk beds were exposed like this - a whole wall lined up with an array of wide spread pussies.

As a further humiliation, an orgasm was applied to me. I really cannot think of a different word for it. Without any introduction at all, one of the men just held one of those vibrator wand thingies against my clit, and ostentatiously looked at his watch. Even though I tried to resist it, I lasted only 18 seconds before the orgasm overwhelmed me. There was no expression on his face when he withdrew the wand and marked my score on the tablet; then he just got up and left me lying there in the afterglow of my orgasm as he headed to the next girl to satisfy.

Spread out to that huge hall, my panting slowly ebbing as the afterjolts of orgasm gradually died down in my body, my pussy on wide open display for anyone to survey. But… no one did! The men in white just kept attending to their duties, dragging more and more fresh, arriving girls through all the procedures to turn them into spread twats as well. They really had no time to engage themselves with finished goods.

And that was the final debasement. Now that the men finally had us exactly where they had always wanted us, not having to bother about our personality and fully set to enjoy us as mere objects, all set up for **** and taking the pleasure that men had wanted to take from girls for millions of years, they just ignored us. And even though girls had been conditioned to fend off these attentions when we were still persons, there was no denying that we had appreciated them anyway. Now that I was deprived of that attention when I was tied down in the core of my defeat, I felt cheated… especially so because my body, unhindered by the social constructs and taboos, responded with a warm and welcoming enthusiasm to my defeat. Yes, I hornified… despite the orgasm which had just been issued, new juice welled from the depth of my loins and spread across my pussy. When the labia were saturated, glutinous drops started running down the inside of my thighs towards my buttocks. I couldn’t see it for myself, but I realized I must look like a complete slut - humiliated and tied down, all my visual response was a clearly gleaming and desirous cunt. Ready and yearning to be fucked, but ignored and denied instead; thus disappointed and unsatisfied.

I lay there for many hours, as the bunk beds all got filled up with girls in exactly the same position as me. Finally the men finished their jobs, all the bunks were occupied with spread pussy. They cleared away their gear, started leaving the hall, and turned off the lights. We were ready for our first night as company property.