Syndicate #1

5

#5

Competitor

—Tower M, 00:33 AM

Lena sets her eyes on the streaming video before her, the performance playing back in an 110-inch Ultra HDTV mounted to the wall of her office, right across from where she sitting. She’s lying back on the couch of her lounge area, her posture relax, hand holding a glass of cocktail that she occasionally takes a sip in.

AZ101. AZ102. Those are the names that The Dungeon had set for them. It shouldn’t really come as a surprise that her rival company is making its mark once again with their new products. Angelina is a very critical CEO, and the European dominatrix always aim to capture her audience.

But there’s something about these new slaves that has gotten her thinking — particularly the female one. Lena doesn’t why, but she finds herself keep backtracking to this exact recording. She had witnessed it first hand when the live performance was first put up. Then she had bought a digital copy when it was sold. The film was so popular with its rewatches that The Dungeon then decided to stop selling the digital copies and revert back to the live view, charging the audience her second.

Lena knows that what she’s doing is only making her rival richer, but she doesn’t care. She’s got plenty of money to spare on her own. Besides, she’s doing this to study their rival. There’s something she’s missing, or seeing, from this footage, and she just got to know what.

“Pause it,” she casually orders one of her servants, and the moving pictures freezes right at the moment when the camera zooms in at the female’s clearly distressed features. This shot was captured right at the moment the Arabic girl was f****d against her will.

Just like most mistresses, Lena is one that enjoys pain — especially when it is inflicted upon others. Seeing this face gets her thinking; something that’s supposed to be just right at the back of her mind.

Her eyes land on her servants; one’s a blonde and the other’s a redhead; both kneeling on the floor at each of her side, wearing skin-clad black leather on their slender physique, with very prominent collars that very well broadcast their ownership. They are sweet and easy on the eyes.

She examines Eve’s signature golden curls and tan complexion. The overly large swell of her breasts is her best feature yet, her heart-shaped face comes in second. Then Lena takes in the minor details; she has close-set icy blue eyes; small, pointy nose; and thin rosy lips that hide an adorable tooth gap at the front.

Eve’s overall statutes is petite. Her body is slender. Everything about her is small; even her personality. Except for her chest area; that’s her most redeeming feature. And of course, Lena can’t forget about the girl’s face. The blonde servant has always been so docile, so she always have this obedient face on.

Compared to Ava, whose dyed red curls is even three times fuzzier, this slave is has a fiery spirit. Lena can see the fire burning in those beautiful emerald eyes. Ava is much more ambitious and a little bit deviant. The personality little bit of a stretch for someone of her status, but Lena supposes it’s fun to have a variety in her collection.

Looking at them gets her thinking.

Oh, right. Isn’t she missing one spot in her collection? The mistress has grown a habit of collecting slaves from all over the country, possessing countless of hundreds of people from different ethnicity. Living in the Syndicate city allows her to gather servants for her collection even easier, though she faintly recalls that she hasn’t has one yet that is from Arab.

But now, she knows who to seek to get the girl.

“Mistress, an invitation has arrived,” says a boy stepping into the office. He’s pale and skinny, but tall. He has natural red hair, slicked styled and parted on one side. Unlike the slaves, he wears a suit that covers him from head to toe.

The ginger walks up to where Lena is sitting and politely hands her the card.

She takes a good look at the gold printed card, her dark grey orbs moving as she reads, before finally sneering. “Perfect. Just what I need.” She hands her drink to one of her girls and raises from her seat, before signalling the boy secretary.

There is work to do.

*

—The Dungeon, 08:11 AM

Hassan finds himself being lead around other parts of the establishment. He has no idea how big exactly is this building, but the more chance he’s given to walk around the premises, the larger it becomes the internal map he stores in his mind. The more he goes, the bigger does the place reveals itself to be.

Cara is there to pick him up from the interrogation room; in which the Mistress has left him in right after the bracelet thing. Hassan has no means to tell the time that he spends waiting for someone to open that door again. He doesn’t dare to try opening the door, afraid of being seen as a disobedient slave.

When she appears, the young woman has her dirty blonde locks tousled in a messy but fashionable locks around herself, making her soft hair look like wings floating around her. She has some light makeup on her face, and she wears this ripped overall jeans over a white strip of what seems to be a sport bra.

Those, combined with a pair of strapped translucent heels that looks so thin and fragile, they might as well be an early prototype of a fashion article created from 3D printer that might break at any given second.

He doesn’t know how to act around her. On one side, he knows that he is to be a slave in this place. But on the other side, her easy smile and joker personality is really making him feel like he’s interaction with a friend. Since he doesn’t know the answer to this question, he decides to sound it out to her.

“H-hello. H-how may I address you?” he starts out nervously, afraid to even look at her in the eye.

The woman snorts. “Don’t act so stiff. I’m not like Angie. You can call me by my name. Hey, I’m Cara, by the way.” She sticks out her hand to him.

When Hassan doesn’t take it straight away, she pats him by the shoulder instead, before wrapping one slender arm around neck. With her heels on, the girl is almost at the same height as him.

She can feel him stiffening under her touch right away. She imagines Angelina’s teaching must have already been absorbed by the boy already. As expected of her boss; the woman’s mere presence can bring people to their knees, boys and girls alike.

“W-who are you, Cara?” he asks again, feeling the need to know where she stands.

Sensing the meaning behind his question, the blonde gladly answers, “I’m the manager here. I manage things, people. A.k.a., Angelina’s right hand.” She ends her brief explanation with a click of a tongue and a handgun gesture aiming at him.

“That means she’s super way up, isn’t she?” Hassan can’t help but to wonder inwardly, which in turn, makes him even more nervous than he already is.

“Hey, chillax. I’m not super uptight like the others. I’m not into belittling everyone or that sort of thing. You can be pals with me,” she assures him, before pulling him out of the room.

Though Hassan can sense that she’s one who is a little bit more on the pushy side that likes to make others do what she likes, despite the friendliness that airs around her.

He can smell her perfume, sweet and delicate, with a hint of some wild spices somewhere in there — or maybe that’s just her.

“A-are you also my owner?”

“We don’t like to use the term ‘own’ here. You’re officially a slave of the company now, which means that you’re also part of the family. But yeah, in the general sense, I hold a much higher position than you, though Angie’s authority can surely overrule mine. You get what I mean here, buddy?”

“I-i guess.”

Cara wastes no time in getting him to exit the room. His bare feet touch the cool metal of metal panel and he shivers slightly from the cold. They enter a hallway that leads to a fourway. It doesn’t take long for Hassan to realize that this is just another maze of confusing hallways.

Everything is tucked away and kept in proper order. The walls, floor and ceiling are all smooth and are made of either steel, thick glasses, or LED lights. Everything looks so alien to him, much because every corner looks like something that has been taken right out of a sci-fi movie. There are lights coming out from lines on the walls. The floor is made out of metal panels, occasionally embedded with some tightly shut ventilations. The ceiling is free of dust or decor, except for one long line of light that stretches as far as the hallways go. They also pass by some tightly packed doors along the way as they walk. 

This is what he has been missing out on when they transported him with the blindfolds on. But the more and more he witnesses, Hassan is not sure if this newfound freedom and liberty to see is something that he should appreciate or not. If feels as if he is intruding their place, even though technically he was the one who was kidnapped. Still being kidnapped? Was kidnapped? Is he a willing victim now? He can’t be sure.

Cara leads him through a series and turns and twists until they come to a hallway that has tall wide glasses embedded into the walls on one side of the hallway. Inside, his eyes catch glimpses of bright surfaces and a lot of blue lights. There are heavy and complex equipment attached to the walls and floors that Hassan assumes have medical purposes. Plenty of lighting, screens and pipes are distributed all over the place. Everything screams advanced and expensive. 

He has never seen anything like this. Before he realizes it, Hassan finds himself stopping just by the windows.

“This is where we first put you in,” a feminine voice explains from behind him.

Something about hearing the news makes his back shivers for some reason, even when she’s only talking calmly. His dark eyes dart around the content of the room until it stops on a reclined medical chair that somewhat feels familiar to him.

Hassan faintly remembers coming to himself feeling extremely sore — particularly at his genital area. He had been drugged more than once, he’s sure. Just what had these ladies done to him while he was out? But as much as he likes to ask, he isn’t sure if his questions will be welcomed — especially since he is not sure whether to really trust Cara or not. They just met, and she is one of his kidnappers, now turned slave owner.

Then he hears her speak again, “You probably don’t remember it, but I did get an early taste of you before.”

This time he blushes profoundly and she sniggers, making his heart beats faster thanks to the sight of her smiling. Cara is gorgeous, the I-must-have-died-and-gone-to-heaven kind of gorgeous, because she honestly looks like an angel. A fallen angel, perhaps. And those blonde hair and hot body doesn’t help either.

“Ow, look at that. Blushing like a virgin,” she coos, causing his cheeks to grow even warmer than before. Teasing him only brings a delighted smile to her face. “I knew you. You’ll be a fun toy to play with; I just have this gut feeling. Now come on, there are still a lot more places I have to run you through. Can’t wait to see the look on your face when I expose you to the others.”

There are more? Hassan doesn’t know what to think.

He must have spoken the words out loud, because the next thing he knows, Cara says, “Oh yes, definitely a lot more. And I beckon they’ll be plenty of things that you’re not used to seeing.” Her raspy tone especially vibrates seductively when she says those words.

*

—Experimental Labs Level 2, 08:23 AM.

She then grabs his shoulders and pushes him toward the wall at the end of the hallway. A dead end? Cara steps out beside him and stands in front of a dark square panel on a wall. The device starts beeping, scanning her face. Then it speaks.

“Access granted: Cara D.”

The wall, which turns out to be a huge door, suddenly slides open with a hiss. Hassan takes a step back out of surprise. His eyes so wide as he takes in the new surrounding inside, and he can hear girls moaning coming from the other side. The hallway is . . . there’s no light way of putting it — it’s a hallway of perverted acts!

Left and right he sees the same huge windows that show all kinds of experiments inside. It’s not just some scientific or even medicinal experiments, too. Well, at least not in the most traditional sense. Girls are stuffed in each individual rooms, sometimes in odd angles, usually strapped into a machine.

My goodness! It’s not just him and Suzan who are kidnapped. They are many more victims just like them! And . . . what exactly are they doing to these girls?

“Welcome to Experimental Labs Level 2!” Cara throws her arms in a presenting gesture, obviously in a cheery mood.

Hassan doesn’t know what’s getting into him, but he finds his own two feet moving on their own before he can stop himself. He approaches one of the huge windows, before gasping at the sight he finds.

Someone — who he can easily tell is a female, judging from the curves of her body — dressed in skin tight pink latex is sitting on a desk, her legs folded into a kneeling position while black bands strap her in to force her to stay still. The pink latex covers her from head to toe. She’s placed facing away from the windows, but there’s a high chance that the suit covers her face too.

There are a bunch of other leather straps on her, wrapped around her waist, neck and head. There are some on her wrists, too, keeping her hands down and locked near her ankles. One string of rope connects from the hook by her neck and down to the table, straining her to keep still.

A piece of device is attached to her upper arm like an armband, a few cables connected to the device. Some beeping on it’s tiny screen seems to be showing her vitals. There are tubes dangling down from the ceiling, though he can’t tell where’s the source. It comes down right over the girl’s head, where another piece of device is attached to her face. It might be a breathing mask. Or they can be keeping her fed through those tubes.

But those things are not the elements that ward him off. No. It’s the fact that the pink suit is unzipped by her ass, showing fair tender flesh through the tight-fitted gap. What shocks Hassan most is when he watches a thick purple dildo slamming in and out of the girl’s ass, causing thick coat of juices to soak through the surrounding area.

There seems to be a gaping panel on the table that opens up right beneath the girl, and this purple dildo is moving in and out of her like a machine. Maybe it is? But why are they going through such great lengths to built and do this?

“Enjoying the show, I see.” Cara’s hand unexpectedly comes up and cups him from in between his legs, causing Hassan to jump on his feet. She chuckles and lets her hand to roam at the outline of him, teasing him through the thin material of his robe. “Say ‘hi’ to the camera,” she says, sparing him a quick glance before winking at one corner of the room.

Hassan follows her gaze, and this is when he finally spots a camera angled from one corner of the roof, directed to face out the room. It seems to be recording what’s currently happening.

“Like what you see? Then these will blow your mind even further.” Cara taps at the window, and suddenly yellow panels pop onto the glass like an interactive computer. The window also acts double as a computer screen, it appears.

One square shows her vital condition. Another one, a short bio. The third one shows an x-ray vision of what’s going on inside her body, shot from a side view, allowing them to see how one dildo slam into her ass while the other hover by her front entrance, before the bigger one in her ass slides out until only the head is by her anus while the smaller one thrusts into her cunt. The dildos are machines that are programmed to f**k her by both holes it seems, and this is the first time Hassan realizes there are two instead of just one. Man.

He knows that he should freak out and try to run away right about now. It should be the most logical reaction to do, his brain musters. Yet Hassan does none of those things, but instead remain frozen at the other side of the window. Something about the sight just enthralls him, compelling him to just continue watching. It’s erotic, watching those automatic dildo taking turns sliding in and out of her ass and p***y, and his body can’t seem to stop acting naturally to the sight before him.

Everything is so new and they all excite him in various ways. He certainly has never seen a girl being pumped from both ends right in front of his face. And all of these advance technology is kinda freaking him out in a way that is him being impressed.

To top everything else, there’s also another panel that pops in and show an internal feedback on what’s going on inside from both dildos’ point of view.

“W-what is this?”

“This is our experiment hallway. Slaves are put into these rooms for the sake of testing their limits, though sometimes it also serves as a form of punishment. That doesn’t seem to stop them from enjoying this, though.” Cara is referring to the pool of juices dripping and accumulated around huge things lodged inside the girl. “The cameras are just another way for the company to make profit from all of this at the same time.”

“Make profit? How?”

“It’s a live feed. What’s being done to her is being broadcast the entire time.”

“People pay to watch this? Is it even legal?” He asks the question before he can stop himself.

Cara merely snorts at that. “‘Course not. But this is Syndicate. People get away with anything as well as they have the money for it. This is a porn-friendly area.”

The girl in flamingo pink is not the only one who is being experimented and watched. Cara directs him down to the rest of the hallway, allowing him to witness what perverted things are being done to the rest of the slaves here.

One brunette girl is in the process of being milked by machines as they pass by. Unlike the first girl, this one is naked, showcasing her pale ivory skin. She doesn’t seem to notice the new passersby, eyes rolled back and glazed and tongue rolling out in pleasure, body too distracted by different types of stimulants that the rest of the mechanical arms attached to the machine she’s riding on to notice anything else. Her arms and legs are both chained into the machine, and the thing forces her body to ride it like a motorbike, almost bending down her entire body forward toward the white glossy equipment.

Her fists are clenches around two holders at the front, while a dildo and buttplug is attached to the other end of one mechanical arm behind her. The machine pounds into her in quick lightning thrusts for dozens of times, before abruptly retracting, allowing the girl to take gulp huge gulps of air in between breaks before finally repeats the entire ordeal all over again, all while causing milk to churn out of her breasts. Hassan is not sure if the girl can even see what’s going on outside.

Mysterious serum is injected into her body, a tube of purple liquid pumped from her back.

The same thing happens to the first next door. She has the same purple serum pumped into her s*x, the tube attached to a dildo s***h mechanical arm that’s drilling nonstop into her asshole. The girl is young, too young to be the receiving end of all of this. Her small body is being trapped down to what seems to be a technologically altered gynecologist chair, wrists held down by a bulky lock at each side, spread as wide as how the legs are being forced open by dark metal mechanical arms. Two more drills are pumping and spinning fast by her v****a and c******s, each shaped long and thick while the other shorter and rounder. All three dildos have different textures on the surface. Just like the girl before, suction tubes are placed on her chest, but this girl doesn’t produce much milk. The tubes are smaller, and her pink n*****s are perked hard. He can’t believe how much juice is pouring out of her p***y, her hole looking like a flower that’s endlessly churning out sweet glistening honey from the core, staining everything it touches, including all dildos and the chair she is sitting on.

There are at least a dozen other cells spanned in this hallway. Hassan moves on his feet without even realizing it, equally part horrified as he is amazed. There’s at least another cell where two examiners are in there, keeping watch as a line of women are made to have their ass stuffed out from holes in walls, where sometimes dildos will find their way inside these women’s privates, and sometimes other examiners will indulge to stuff themselves into the women. The women wither and moan helplessly, and Hassan wonders if they are afraid or if they are enjoying this as much as the men do. The front of his pants tighten at the mere thought.

“AZ101, I think it’s time we should go,” comes Cara stern tone. He quickly whirls around to face her, her expression unreadable for some reason this time. He can’t see a ray of sunshine in her eyes.

There are still so many things he hasn’t see in detail yet, but Cara insists that they must stay on track with the schedule. There’s a schedule? He doesn’t realize that he’s saying the words out loud.

“There are plenty more places like this one. Come on. You’ll have time to revisit this place later.” There’s an unidentified tone in her voice that makes him shivers in from both concern and anticipation.

The assistant directs him out of the hallway of pleasure before he can say anything else, and Hassan feels a sense of lost when it happens. Cara sees that look of want on his face, but comments nothing on it.

They walk through a series of plain hallways yet again until they end up in front of an elevator. Cara gestures for Hassan to enter. He watches as numbers add up as they head down to lower levels. Elevator finally stops when the numbers show 42. Damn, how tall is this building?

When the doors slide open, Cara presents him to the ‘Living Quarters’.

There are plenty more people down here. They all wear collars like him, but with clothes this time. Though the clothes themselves are not as conservative as what he’s used to seeing.

Hassan looks left to right as people pass by and greet them, strangely catching them referring Cara as ‘Aunt’.

“Angelina is like the ‘Mother’ around here. She treats all slaves like her ‘Children’. Since I’m her assistant, they compromise and call me the ‘Aunt’. Same goes with Margo, Angie’s other assistant,” Cara explains. “Angelina is the boss, by the way. And Margo’s in charge in the tech stuff.”

He learns that these people, like him, are also slaves. The air over here is different though. They are allowed to roam around the place without being tied up or shackles. Cara chuckles watching his reaction.

“Don’t look so surprise. Like I said, we’re all family here. The ones you saw upstairs are mostly just those who are currently working in shifts.”

“‘That’ was work?” he blanches.

“They all choose to stay here willingly, I can assure you. They help us work by earning revenue through live views. In exchange, we provide them a safe haven where they can be themselves; a place they can call home. The Dungeon is secure and protected, so you have no fears. The slaves are treasured because they are the company’s means to earning money. We take good care of our own.”

*

—Shower, Living Quarter, 08:49 AM.

After that little speech, Cara guides him toward the mixed bathroom area. Inside there are rows of open shower. There’s little need for privacy in this place, Hassan quickly learns. 

“Get in. Get yourself clean.” Cara gestures for him to strip down, right in front of her and everybody else. The slaves walk in and out ever so casually, not paying much attention except to say hello to the resident Aunt. Some seem to be interested in the new face, but they don’t ask much questions. They all seem to be very used to the public nudity.

Hassan doesn’t want to think too much because this, so he just quickly undo his robe and let the fabric gather around his feet. He steps out of it then gets into the shower area, where the rows are mostly clear of people except for a few. Cara makes him walk next to a showering girl when he hesitates, the sight of the naked girl almost gives him a heart attack.

“Hey Shay, meet our newest addition. This is AZ101, or as he likes to call himself—Hassan.”

“Hi there, big boy,” the girl turns around and sends him a wink. Shay is not just referring to his staggering height, though. Hassan is pretty tall compared to her, but she’s using the term to refer the thing perching up from in between his legs.

The boy blushes madly. He can’t help it. How can he not react?

Shay appears to be around his age, and from Asian descent, from the looks of it—though he’s not sure from which part specifically. She has natural olive skin that is evenly tan, which he can easily tell because he has a full view of her bare body. She’s sort of petite, yet still got curves to flaunt.

Shay has long wavy dark hair that stops around her breasts, the wet strands sticking close to her skin accentuate her figure as water trickles down from above, wrapping around her t**s ever so nicely that Hassan has to bite his bottom lip in order to stop himself from wanting to nibble on her perked up n*****s. They are pointed, hard and shines in the color of honey brown, silently tempting him to suckle on them.

He distracts himself by looking up to her face instead. Shay has a round shaped face and a tame double-chin. Her brows are almost as bushy as Cara’s, though Shay’s are much darker, like her hair. Her eyes are big and dark and they twinkle at him with humorous glint. She has a button nose and natural pink lips. When she smiles, he can see dimples and a set of slightly crooked teeth—which he finds cute.

His eyes instinctively trail down to take in the rest of her, noting that she’s free from any excess body hair—that includes the ones at her crotch. Hassan stares for a moment too long, though the girl doesn’t seem to mind one bit about it. This is the second time the boy has seen a girl’s p***y—with his sister in law being the first. He had lost his virginity to her, and he can’t help but wonder where she is now.

Cara needs him to wash up quickly since they have someplace else to be. He grabs a soap bar but accidentally squeezes too hard, causing the slippery thing to land on the floor next to his feet. The girls chuckle as they watch him bend over to pick it up, and someone slaps him in the ass once he stands back up.

“Need a hand on that?” Shay flirts shamelessly, throwing at look at his now half erect state. Of course, Hassan blushes some more but declines politely. No one says anything else after that, thankfully. After he applies soap all over and rinses himself, the boy quickly dries up and changes into a new robe—this one as airy as the last. He walks out of the shower just as barefooted as before.

*

—Health and Beauty Center, 09:30 AM.

They go up one level and arrive in a different area. Cara explains what the place is to him, before ushering him toward one of the staffs.

“Hi Cara. The usual, I presume?” asks a woman in uniform. She looks like one of those examiners, and it makes the boy nervous.

“Yup, give him the full check up.”

Hassan is directed to a smaller room that has a flat surface for him to lie down on.

“What are we doing here?” he asks the woman.

“My name is Dr. Dove. I handle the health check up around here. Don’t worry, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Another slave steps into the room—the collar around her neck a dead giveaway. She puts on a pair of gloves that Dr. Dove wears and begins preparing the machine that is hovering above him. He hears Dove keying in some commands into a keypad, though he can’t really see what’s going on. The slave moves to lock some traps around his wrists and ankles, unnerving the boy even more as a result.

“Is this really necessary?” he asks.

“It’s just to prevent you from moving around too much. We’re gonna start with a full body scan first,” Dr. Dove explains reassuringly.

And they do. Along with some other stuff after that.

Something cool is applied to his back entrance, causing him to stir on the bed. The sensation pricks at him again, causing the boy to pull at the restrain this time. “What the heck—?” He fails to say whatever comes into mind next, when Dr. Dove suddenly lodge something hard and big right into his ass. It stings, but the stretching goes much smoother than Hassan first expected. It doesn’t hurt, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel uncomfortable as hell.

“There, there, no need to panic. We’re just cleaning up your back end. Just try to relax, we’re almost done,” Dr. Dove tries to sooth the shivering boy. She has applied some lubricant at his entrance, and the back passage is stretching around the anal tool as it is supposed to be. The enema is cleansing the contents of his body, allowing waste to flow out. A container is already there to contain any excess drip.

They’re very professional in their work. Before he knows it, Dr. Dove and her assistant, the slave, are done cleaning him up, allowing the boy to proceed to his next stop.

He is then introduced to Anne Curtis, a beautiful brunette who also happens to be the person in charge at the Beauty Center. Angelina is still the most beautiful brunette he has ever met, but that doesn’t mean Anne is less than pretty to look at—in fact, he glances at her a lot.

Anne is just as eccentric as any other women in her industry. She has a thick French accent that only makes her voice sounds much more erotic than it probably should.

The woman has long brown locks that hang around her shoulders, moving as light as feathers. Her eyes are the deep shade of brown. She has a small nose and pouty lips. Her skin is in the rich shade of golden glow.

A beauty mark accentuates the area of her chest, dotted right at the top before the valley of her breasts. She wears a low cut dress in the shade of millennial pink. The thin material flows around her body as she moves, giving her the appearance of an angel.

Anne wears no jewelry and only light makeup on her lips and cheeks, but those alone are able to cause heads to turn.

She wears some black strappy heels on her heel, her steps light as she spins around the room.

Anne welcomes Hassan with open arms, giving him each a kiss on the cheek before immediately directs him to take a seat. She gives him a relaxing hair wash and a little bit of hair cut as some touch up. The beauty specialist says she doesn’t want to use makeup on him because she prefers to let natural beauty shines through the slaves.

The boy gets to change into a costume. Shay, the naked girl from the shower before, comes striding in—this time with clothes on, thank God—carrying a gathering of pink fabric wrapped in protective sheet. The shower girl unzips the thing to reveal a two top sari with simple design. The outfit has some patterned embroidery sewed together in soft pastel color, some long skirt, as the overall look is even completed with some anklet—but still no shoes! The floor is kinda cold as Hassan maneuvers around the place.

“Oh, it’s you,” Shay says cheerfully when she spots Hassan sitting on one of the makeup chairs.

“You know the boy, Shay dear?” Miss Curtis peers up from her work.

“Yeah, we’ve met.” The eastern girl grins, causing the boy to blush even madder. “We got to be introduced to one another in the shower room.”

“Oh, that’s great! Then how about if you help me out preparing Hassan? We still have some pedicure and shaving to do.”

“What? No!” Hassan exclaims embarrassedly as Shay agrees to the request.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing sort of out of the ordinary. Shay helps out all the time. You’d be in good hands.”

That’s not what concerns him most though. The boy really becomes uneasy when Shay offers to shave him down there. He’s put in a reclined chair, where his legs are being parted wide open. The girl only smiles friendlily at him, before kneeling right in between that place, her head so close to his c**k when she takes the shaver and begins her work ever so casually. Hassan finds himself growing hard when her hand touches him, his member jutting up and down as she moves so closely near him.

“What’s wrong, Hassan? You look so tense. Want me to help you relax?” Shay’s sultry teasing tone flows out and it only makes him grow even harder.

“Oh my, look at that,” Anne comes into view, standing behind Shay, “Great work, mon petite.” Hassan doesn’t know if the beautician is referring to his now free of pubic hair skin or the effect Shay has on him.

It doesn’t take long before they finish up. The two young women help Hassan get into the new outfit, as if it’s not embarrassing enough, which is supposed to be for females. He can’t stop blushing, mostly also because he has to go in commando while at it. The females keep complimenting him for his looks though, their hands wandering to some forbidden places as they go.

Right after that, Hassan finds himself being ushered toward the other side of the room that he has missed before. There are some backdrop and camera setups, indicating a small photo studio. There’s a chair placed at the center of it, and Miss Curtis has him sit on it.

She encourages him to relax and be as natural as possible. “Pretend the camera doesn’t exist.” But everything is so new and awkward to him. Hassan feels like a failure for fumbling through the entire process. It does take some time for Anne to get some good pictures of him, especially since he keeps fidgeting uncomfortably the entire time—thought it might also have something to do with getting his ass cleaned just now.

“Okay, forget about the chair, mon cher. Why don’t you try standing up, huh? Yes, that’s better. That will look good on your profile pic. Yes, more like that, keep it up.”

Once he finally gets the hang of it, modelling for the beauty specialist doesn’t feel so hard anymore. Hassan almost feels disappointed when Anne abruptly wraps it up too soon.

“What are the pictures for?” he asks after.

“They are for your profile pics. We’re gonna post it on our company’s website. Now that you’re officially a member of our company’s product, we gotta make sure the people know.” She lets him view some of the pics briefly, though Anne scrolls through them so fast he can’t even get a really good look on them.

Well, at least he doesn’t look like a clown in them. Anne is actually really good working behind the camera.

By the time they are done, Hassan feels so exhausted that he’s ready to just pass out to sleep. Cara picks him up again just so that she can drop him off back to the Living Quarters, walking him to a series of hallways of doors until they get to his assigned room. The boy gets to share a space with another male slave, an Indian boy his age.

Karan doesn’t really look his own age though, what with his much shorter and smaller stature, Hassan thought that the other boy is still in his pre-teen years. He wears some casual clothes, a shirt under his slightly baggy hood and some loose pants.

Karan doesn’t even blink when he sees what Hassan is forced to wear—okay, maybe he raises an eyebrow a little, bit that’s all. Weird is kind of the norm around here, it seems, but Hassan is still new and everything takes some time to get used to.

They shake hands and exchange names. Cara sticks around long enough to make sure that they get along, before moving to her feet yet again.

*

—Upper Level, Experimental Lab, Chamber III, 10:35 AM

“How’s the girl progressing?” Angelina asks one of her assistants in charge in settling in AZ102. The female specimen had been so shaken up when they took her out of the stage room. Of course, their treatment toward her also doesn’t help soothe her mental state. The company wants to know what the girl is worth, aside from putting one good show, so they put her through a stimulation therapy, hoping to milk out more cash through yet another performance from her, putting up live feeds of what she’s going through from every possible angle. They don’t give her much break at all, treating her coldly because they simply don’t do cuddles for the weak-minded.

They tried to be fair to her at first, giving the girl a chance to adjust just like everybody else. But when AZ102 fails to bare any desired result, they simply put her through the same drone program just like anybody else, coping with results less acceptable than expected.

“There’s nothing wrong with her physical performance, and the incoming revenue has been good. Better than expected, actually,” Margot replies through her earpiece. It’s kinda late at night, but these women are very dedicated in what they do for work.

“But?”

“The b***h keeps trying to bite just about anyone who comes to replace her oxygen mask.”

“Nothing you can’t handle, I suppose?”

“Not at all. It’s just that she has a rather nasty mouth, and we’ve got to keep it occupied every time she performs, else the audience will hear all kinds of nasty curses.”

“I’m sure there are those who’d pay to hear that. Too bad the niche is too little.”

“We can put up this kind of show experimentally, if you’d like? Plus, her cunt is never dry, each time I check. She might say she doesn’t want this, but all the juice that is soaking wet the machine says otherwise. Heck, we even got some requests to bottle up the liquid.”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before, though I gotta admire her stubbornness. First time interview and she forced my hand on her.”

“No,” Margot breathes out in disbelief, unable to hide a hint of impressedness in her voice.

“Yup. That’s a ball of spitfire we got there. Anyway, put up limited pre-order for both. Let’s see how well she’ll perform next time.”

“Aye-aye, boss,” Margot replies playfully, posing a salute even though Angelina can’t see it. “It’s just too bad that the girl is still in shock after everything she has been through. We just don’t have the cure for the mental damages she has taken.” She almost sounds regretful in that.

“Oh, now that you’ve mentioned it, you’d never guess who just made a call to me,” Angelina changes the subject with a lighter tone.

“Yeah? Who?” Margot entertains the other woman.

“It’s Lena, our competitor. And not just her assistant or anybody else, but the woman herself.”

“What does she want?” Margot can’t help but to sound concerned at this.

“It’s nothing bad, I can assure you. Apparently she’s got words about our latest girl, and she wanted to take a test out of her.”

“That’s great, but does she know that AZ102 is . . . well, not coping well,” Margot tries to use the most accurate phrase.

“Yup, I told her about all that. She didn’t mind, though. Even offered to help rehabilitate the girl,” Angie tells her assistant, knowing how well the two of them sounds like a pair of gossiping women and not talking about work.

“So, what? She just offer to help? Just like that?”

“She wants something in return, obviously. We’re talking about Lena after all. There will be a meeting set up tomorrow morning to discuss the minor details, but we’re pretty much all set.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for this one.”

“Me too.”

“What are you doing after this?”

“There’s nothing much left to do. I’ll be turning out for the day in a few minutes.”

“Hey, wanna try on the new toy later?” Angie instantly knows who Margot is referring to—the Arabic boy. They had seen his new profile pic, with him crossdressed in all the pink they could get. He was an instant hit, and people are already lining up to order shows of him.

“You just read my mind,” Angelina speaks into her earpiece, causing the other woman to laugh.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Cara pops into the conversation a few seconds shy. “I bet y’all plan to get the boy, aren’tcha?” Apparently they are not the only ones who share the same idea.

But it turns out that they boy has passed out tired—thanks to all the new revelations and emotional roller-coaster have drained him out good, it seems—so they’ll have to postpone this arrangement for another time.

Well, it doesn’t matter. The longer they wait, the sweeter the reaping will be.

*

—Somewhere near an elevator, 11:07 AM

“By the way, I’m heading to the surface for some Starbucks right after this. Anyone want some coffees?” Cara offers and the two ladies tells her their orders. Once done, she ends the call and hops into the elevator, pressing the button that can take her to the surface and going through some identification scans, including fingerprint and retina scan. The company has to be very secure with access to the surface (and surface to underground).

Cara gets to get on a staff-only elevator. The doors are made of glass, so she gets to see what’s going on outside. The thing moves so fast up that she can hear the sound resonating into the inside of the elevator. B10 is a generator room that spans all the way to the several floors above it. She spots a couple of staffs doing some circles around the premises as the elevator moves up. B6 is a maintenance area. One of the mechanics are still up in the office this late, most probably doing an all-nighter, working on one of the mechanical arms. Someone has been juiced way too much, it seems. The machines jam sometimes when too much liquid soak into the hinges. There is a cafeteria at B5, mostly used by the staffs during break hours to get some quick bites. B4 and B3 span out as control room, the surfaces mostly built in white and coupled with the modern world’s latest techs and gadgets. They have two control rooms in this tower; a low maintenance version was built near the surface to serve as a decoy, just in case outsiders decide to venture in their territory. B2 are high end offices and meeting rooms, while Angelina gets B1 all to herself. Both floors have amazing night views to Syndicate underground city.

The elevator makes a final stop at Level 1 with a soft halt. The doors slide open and she strides out, heels clicking against expensive marble flooring as she does. Their tower has twenty basement levels and another twenty on the surface as decoy. To the outside world, their building is just like any other corporate skyscraper. Each big company of the Syndicate has their own means to get from surface to underground, while guests can enter through the main public entrance located the center of the office complex. Rivalry is so intense that The Dungeon just had to built their own entrance, just to make sure that secrets can’t escape their company. Soon enough, other big companies starting copying with the same move. That was years ago.

The hallway of elevators open to the front of the lobby. It’s such a contrast to the underground area, especially when sunlight can just shine through from meters high of window glass. There are surface staffs passing by her occasionally, greeting her with smiles. Cara is the face of the company, after all, no matter how superficial it is. They still got some real projects and actual company to run at above. Angie has some big executives paid to manage the going-ons at the surface. As far as everyone knows, The Dungeon doesn’t even exist.

“Out again, Miss D?” the doorman opens the door for her.

“You know it, Mike,” Cara winks at him before heading out, a valet and a yellow Porsche already waiting for her.

*

They all know Cara as the gal they can talk to. She’s friendly and cheerful, and all the slaves think her as someone as close to a family. What they don’t really know is the fact that Cara’s actually a wolf under a sheep’s clothing.

Cara might look like she’s someone that anyone can depend on and share an intricate secret with. But the truth is, she’s just working as Angeline’s eyes and ears. She might act like she can be anyone’s best friend, but she’s actually just gathering intel for her boss.

They can’t control every single people that they have working in their company—not the employees and definitely not all the slaves. The only effective way to control their movements, yet still being subtle about it, is by posing as their alley. Cara is the perfect person to do this, much because she’s naturally already a people person.

Margot is too serious and strict about rules are regulation at times, which is why she can’t do the job. And Angelina is mostly too busy to tackle on the bigger things to really have time to pay attention to minor details such as this. Hence why Cara is handed over this job instead. She’s already liking the act of traveling to all types of level of the building. Added with her friendly streaks, none would ever suspect her real motives.

Angelina wants Cara to become their genuine friend; make them trust her so much that they won’t even think twice about consulting with Cara about their deepest concerns—including any taboo topics, such as their desire to escape from this place, for example.

The boss is not oblivious to what the slaves are thinking. She knows that it will take some times for these former free people to really get used to the lifestyle in The Dungeon. Not everyone comes from a place where s*x can be sold ever so openly and where s****l slavery is allowed. In the Syndicate, no one needs to be worried about breaking the law, because this is one of the only safe places where s*x can be transacted, as long as they have the dollars for it. But as soon as they can manipulate the slaves into opening up to their new lifestyle, there’s nothing to be concerned about, really. Besides, who doesn’t like getting a good f**k?

There are times when slaves come up to Cara expressing their desire to be freed, even when it doesn’t occur as often as one might predict. Ever since the start, these slaves had been hand picked according to their pre-existing s****l tendencies. And since most of then are already sexually active or open minded about the whole thing, it’s easy for The Dungeon to act as their playground instead.

Of course, the freedom thing is kinda restricted as long as they are one of The Dungeon’s property. That doesn’t mean that they don’t provide the slaves with some good living. Accommodations have been provided in a steady flow of income, given in the form of food, clothes, hygiene, peers, housing and an overly friendly and cheery environment.

They also have a reward system. Angelina makes sure to reward the slaves fairly according to their daily performance. Those who excel expectation will be reward, either by expensive clothes and jewelry, or by any other means. Sometimes a request for less restriction will appear, and Angelina can permit them if the said so slave is obedient enough. And Angelina can only know for sure if Cara can learn the slave’s characteristic well enough through the so called friendship they have bonded.

When that fails, Cara is permitted to act less subtle about their regulation. A slave can be brainwashed into wanting to stay, whether it can be done through material or familial ties. Most slaves can be easily pleased with the promise of steady gifts, such as beautiful jewelries and clothes. Others can be satisfied with having another one of their family members or friends brought into the company. Sometimes all they need is just a familiar face to help them get through their new lives together.

All of this can be controlled through the connection Cara has formed with the slaves.

*

—Meeting Room, 09:27 AM

The next day, Lena and her two slaves are guided toward one of The Dungeon’s upper rooms, where the company usually welcomes their guests and high end clients at. The sadistic dominatrix is surrounded by her two latest favorite slaves, a brunette and a redhead, followed by a short blonde from behind. Lena comes striding in heels with one of her favorite fancy coats, letting the material hangs around her shoulders to accentuates the majestic air around her.

Mistress Angelina, the head of the Dungeon corporate, was already waiting for her arrival there, accompanied by one of her most thrusted assistants, Margot. They greeted each other, some people still behaving somewhat wearily against opposite sides though they still try to hide it as best as they can. Each of them are entitled to their opinion toward the others, though this is just not a good time to let their rivals know. They are here for a very specific reason, and Angelina plans to make this go through without a hiccup.

After exchanging names and pleasantries, they went on to discuss their purposes and benefits, before finally bringing out the said slave in question for everyone to see. Margot had stuffed the Arabic girl into one of the lab tanks, with the girl still wearing her bold pink latex suit. She is still blinded by what is happening around her with that super heavy oxygen mask attached to her face, weird sticky goo circulating around her by the feet as she can feel the container which traps her in eventually moves.

Two slaves who work as staffs help push the lab tank in, their arrival anticipated by several pair of curious eyes.

“Oh, look at the girl. She’s so frightened that she’s shivering like a sick kitten,” Lena mocks empathetically, before turning her attention back to Angelina. “Don’t worry, you’ll get her back in no time.”

“You seem very confident in this,” Angelina can’t help but to comment, a hidden meaning hinted at her words.

“Do I?” Lena c***s an eyebrow. “Anyway, if I do fail, there’s really no disadvantage in this. You can just simply pick up where you were last with her. But if I do,” she chuckles, “well, just imagine how beautiful she’ll be.” Her eyes glint with wonder as she says these words. “My assistant here is very adept in her skills.”

Lena gestures at the shorter young woman standing behind her, her position a perfect equal to Margot’s.

“Allow me to introduce you. This is Chloe, and she’ll be the one in charge in taking care of our new,” she pauses to find the right word, “girl.”

The young woman looks barely out of college. She has bleach blonde hair that’s cut to her shoulder, with short stature and a hard face. Certainly not the type of girls her age that anyone usually encounter. There’s a certain hardness in her green eyes that differentiates her from her soft and innocent looking features.

“Well then, since we’ve come to an agreement, let’s sign the contract, shall we?” Angelina nods at Margot, who hands over a tablet to her boss. On display there’s already an approved contract written in digital format, ready to be signed by both CEOs. Angelina pulls out a stylus from her inner pocket, signs the contract in quick, shift strokes, before handing the device to the other woman, who copies the same act.