It's a Monday morning. The sun shines in through your curtains waking you up. With a stretch a yawn and a hop you manage to get one of your legs out of bed. You groan loudly thinking "I hate mornings!". After about ten minutes of this you manage to muster up the strength to pull yourself into an upright position. Another stretch, a big yawn and one more grumble about mornings. But you know you have to get up to check on your merchandise.
Perhaps an explanation is in order. You are James Ray, also know as "Jimmy the Squid", and you are what can only be describe as a slaver. i.e You "acquire" people, bring them into submission, make them obey your every word and sell them at the underground market. But it isn't as easy as a ambush in an ally, not with all the new security, but slavers adapted with their surroundings, after all isn't "Change in their lives" Your unions slogan. Most people wouldn't think you anything other than your average Joe if they saw you in the street. You were average height, light brown hair kept shortish and brown eyes. Your activities required you to stay fit so you were muscular enough although by no means a body builder. People didn't see the gun at your waist, the extra keys in your pockets, the sedative in your suitcase or the sly words that came naturally from years of service "adapting" people to their new lifestyles. Words to make people follow.
At the moment you were in possession of three slaves. Amy, your own little pet. Shelly, ready to be sold at next weeks market. And Tim, a new recruit who had been mostly broken in but still questioned you occasionally. You kept them in your secret room, a hard plank as a bed and a blanket as cover, a bowl of water each and a chain around their necks that attached to the wall. You hooked them up during the night and let them do your bidding at day. You weren't the nastiest of the slavers, you feed your lot well, regularly cleaned them and never beat them so fa it would have any lasting damage.
Amy, around 20,had been in your service for two years. She did what you said without a second thought. She was in good shape, her long blond hair wasn't badly roughed up, you kept her clean which made all the difference and after years of service she still suited certain urges well, still nice and tight with perky bouncing breasts, she had even learned to cooperate a little because she knew a happy master made a safe slave. You had given her little clothes, a two baggy t-shirts that had plenty of stains and a pair of panties. In many ways you had grown fond of her and you sensed that she appreciated the fact that you were one of the kinder slaver, you actually feed your pets and kept them warm during winter.
Shelly, also 20, had been in your custody for the last few months and had learned fast. She was well behaved and smart enough to know not to talk back. She had similar clothes to Amy and was as satisfying. Her hair was darker and you could feel her hate. But chances were you'd make a good profit, keeping in mind you had only spent a bit on the drink you had bought her in the pub you met and a bit more on the drug you put in. She had used her own phone to text her roommate that she was staying with a friend, the last text she ever sent.
Tim had just joined, he was 19 and cocky as fuck. Until you persuaded him to be a bit nicer. He knew that disobeying meant pain but couldn't help questioning orders. You had to really hit hard to get this guy to shut up. He had black hair, used to have glasses and was fairly well built. You had given him some old trousers and a tank top to wear and every time he went to far he slept on a cold floor in a skirt, panties and bra. You knew he hated it.
Know, down to business. Go have breakfast or let the slaves have some exercise first?
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