Chapter 4

Glancing at her smart phone, fourteen year-old Brenda Matthews suddenly realized how drained she was. It was almost six and there was no certainty that the purchase negotiations would finish today. It had been three grueling days so far, and yesterday alone had involved some ten hours of talks. Brenda was on the negotiations team for AZ Porn and it was estimated it would take two days at the most to wrap up the contract to purchase more girls and women for the company.

What the team hadn’t considered was the female director across the table in the plush conference room of the five star Cunt Lips Hotel. Cynthia Ward, Finance Director of Female Quality Assets (FQA), an education and training company for females of all ages with 100 billion in female assets. She looked to be in her late thirties at the most, but Brenda had heard she was 40. It was rumored that Miss Ward was wealthy, a fortune being left to her when her father and mother died in a car accident. She had cracked her company’s Patriarchy ceiling, so she’d been told, and this week Brenda’s team had learned why.

Since Monday as Brenda observed Miss Ward in the conference room, she was impressed by the woman and at times got damp between her thighs. Miss Ward wearing her dark smartly-tailored mid-thigh school girl skirt and a very tight white silk blouse with one button buttoned at the breast line, she was stunning. Her shoulder-length auburn hair and creamy complexion, her slender but full-breasted figure and her pert nose and sensual mouth and lips that attracted male and female attention.

Brenda sat along the back wall of the conference staring at Miss Ward, the self-confidence the woman had, her certainty of what her male bosses wanted attracted Brenda to her. A strong-willed woman was a rarity among females. Watching Miss Ward, Brenda scarcely noticed the rest of Miss Ward’s physical assets. Every now and then Miss Ward would look over at Brenda and smile which at first embarrassed the girl as she quickly looked away. Today though, Brenda worked up the courage to smile back and at some point felt moistness again.

Brenda was the scribe on her company team, taking notes in shorthand so that nothing was missed or not understood. Miss Ward verbally parried back and forth with Trisha Mitchell, Brenda’s director. Miss Mitchell was the lead negotiator of AZ Porn’s Female Asset Resource Manager (FARM). She had warned the team that Miss Ward would be stubborn and meticulous. Since the start of the negotiations Brenda could only gaze at Miss Ward with a respect almost bordering on awe.

The company was offering 500 million dollars to purchase different investment classes of women and girls, property and buildings. They would purchase three classrooms of girls, one class room of 30 thirteen year-old’s, two classrooms of 30 fourteen year-old girls each who were about to graduate. Also, a 100 women trained as hostesses in the orgy industry, a mother daughter strip club in another state (52 mother’s and daughter’s as employees), and finally 51 percent ownership in a neighborhood prostitution ring in another city, that employed 58 women and girls. Six vacant lots and three office complexes in another state. The biggest expense were the three classrooms.

FQA purchased what was known as “Non-Performing” assets from the government. The non-performing assets were female babies, bundled in groups of thirty and sold on the commodities market. FQA raised the babies and educated them in their company classrooms around the country. As the girls grew-up they were moved from non-performing assets to different investment grade of stock depending on their age. FQA had to recoup the cost of housing, feeding and clothing the girls, it was expensive business to be in. Every now and then FQA would put for sale certain classrooms of girls for profit and use that profit to fund other activities, kind of like an ATM machine in the old days.

Brenda knew that AZ had offered all it could for deal. Miss Mitchell’s cards been played; she simply awaited the response from Miss Ward.

“I think we have a feasible arrangement, Miss Mitchell,” said Cynthia Ward at last. “The financing clauses look quite suitable to me, and the two million dollar front-end fees to cover our costs of shipping the female flesh, with exception of the strip club and the prostitution ring, is agreeable. I’m confident in taking this to my male superiors. Please put all those points we’ve discussed in the final contract.”

“Thank you, Miss Ward,” smiled Trisha. “AZ Porn appreciates doing business with FQA. Your company the has finest, well trained, females for sale. I will have my team put together the final agreement for our signatures on Friday morning, if that is agreeable?”

Miss Ward smiled and looked at Brenda who blushed. “Friday morning is fine, say 9am so we can all return home for the weekend?”

Miss Mitchell agreed and closed her tablet.

Brenda could feel the relief on both side of the conference room. Just like that 300 women and girls were sold to AZ Porn. 190 women and girls would be shipped to the company’s main warehouse in Burlington for distribution elsewhere within the company. The women and girls in the strip club and the prostitution ring would now be making money for the company. Within the week the company would send out an integration team to the strip club and the prostitution ring with new contracts. The profit from those two operations would fund other company activities. As for the office complexes, those would be remodeled into orgy playrooms catering to different fetishes.

As the two teams walked out of the conference-room, did Brenda feel relaxed enough to look at Miss Ward as a self-confident skilled negotiator. Brenda wore her hair in a pony tail, had a tight white blouse with two buttons buttoned in the middle of the blouse, just covering her small breasts, a black mini skirt, white thigh stockings and black four inch stiletto’s. She had had little time or inclination to consider a feminine relationship since her classroom was purchased four years ago from a different education company. Miss Ward, however, was in a league of her own.

“Well done, Miss Ward,” she blurted out and then blushed.

Cynthia paused, regarded the girl shrewdly. Brenda stood there in embarrassment as the women cleared out of the conference room. Brenda looked at Miss Ward again. “Um, are you free later?” she asked hopefully, her heart beating like crazy. She was nervous as hell and hoped it didn’t show.

Cynthia looked the girl up and down. “It’s tempting, I’ll admit,” she demurred. “But I have a good two hours of work, I’m afraid.”

“At least a coke then, after,” Brenda persisted. “At the hotel playroom?”

Miss Ward took just a second to seemingly mull it over in her mind. “Fine,” she said, “if that suits you,” she paused looking at Brenda’s name tag. “Brenda. But I won’t be there till nine at the earliest.” Then she was gone.

Guests who stayed at the five-star Cunt Lips hotel felt that the place had one big advantage and that was the elegant playroom/bar which offered an intimate setting, with lights down low. Every table was very large with a pole in the middle of it. Down the pole slide a girl or a woman. The pole dancers rotated around the tables throughout the evening. Males and female guests could relax in the playroom and be themselves.

The playroom offered a menu of services, a male or female patron could order a girl or woman for “under the table” services while sipping their drinks and talking about work or while a dancer shook their tits and ass in their face. They could order “take-out”, bringing the woman or girl back to their room or to go clubbing with them. No bruises, broken skin, broken bones or hospitalization allowed.

Brenda went to her room and showered. She turned on the big screen TV which had the local news. The male announcer had a serious look on his face.

“Delores Throckmorten has posted another inflammatory blog. This time is demanding that women and girls are given the right to vote, how preposterous! Females wouldn’t know what to do if they were allowed to vote, they might even vote for their own species and then where would the country be?”

Brenda ignored the TV and got in the shower. She applied make-up to her face, cunt lips and anus. ‘You never know,’ she smiled. She put her hair in a ponytail, pulled on a pink top with spaghetti straps, the tank top had the words across the front, “Females Taste Better”, it was a gift to the team members from the company when they left on Monday. No bra or thong undies, she pulled on her black mini skirt, knee high white socks with pink bows at the top of the stockings, and black Mary Jane’s. Brenda looked at herself in the mirror, good enough to eat. She pinned her name tag over her left breast. Her name tag displayed her name, and “Property of AZ Porn” and a picture of her anus.

All females wore the same kind of name tag. The name tag was scanned every time a female entered or departed a building, sometimes even rooms within the building. The camera would scan the picture of the anus and match it to the females face in a database. If the anus and face didn’t match, a loud alarm would sound and the thought police were dispatched to the location. The offending female would be taken away. It didn’t matter if the database made a mistake, it was incumbent on the female to keep her face and anus picture up to date. It was how women and girls were inventoried and kept track of.

She walked into the playroom at 9 and looked around and was disappointed she didn’t see Miss Ward. Brenda picked out a table in the middle of the room and the little server girl came over. She ordered a coke. As she was waiting for the coke as an older woman slid into the booth beside her. The woman was dressed like a business woman from the early 21ST century. A white blouse with a black tie, black blazer, a black skirt that came mid-thigh and six inch stiletto’s. The woman’s hair was in a bun.

“Hi, there, what’s your name?” the woman smiled, she was probably in her mid-50s. The woman also had a name tag over her left breast pocket. It read, ‘Property of Cunt Lips Hotel’. The name tag a picture of her anus with the name, Carol.

“Brenda.” Brenda replied pointing her name tag.

“I’m Carol, I’m available for purchase if want to have some fun.” Carol was still smiling.

“I’m tempted, but I’m waiting for a friend,” Brenda smiled back.

“Well, I’m available for you and your friend.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Buy me a drink then?”

“Maybe later,” Brenda looked at the woman thinking, ‘It would be fun to relieve some stress, maybe slap her around a bit, give her a black eye, a fat lip and maybe some bruises on her tits, then fuck her anus like it was her cunt.’ Brenda’s stomach tingled at the thought.

“I’m fifty percent off,” Carol said hopefully.

Brenda could almost smell the woman’s desperation. The hotel management probably told her if her sales didn’t increase they would sell her to the services industry. There her mouth, cunt, and anus would be used until their usefulness was worn out. Then she would be either sold or traded again to a different business, like a cheap piece of meat until eventually she would be retired, working as a training prop for girls learning certain skills.

“We’ll see. Maybe later.”

Carol scooted out of the booth. She turned to look at the eleven year-old. “Fifty percent off my mouth, cunt, or anus.” Then walked away. Brenda watched the woman as she took seat at the bar next to a teenage boy.

The server girl came with her coke and asked, “What flavor?”

“You have peppermint?” The name on the girl’s name tag was Clare. She too was the property of the hotel.

The girl reached into her waist band brought a red and white pill, put it in her mouth and chewed it. The she held the coke under mouth as she spit the peppermint saliva into the glass. The girl put the glass down in front of Brenda. Flavored drinks was all the rage.

“How old are you Clare?”

“Seven, Miss.”

“Are you in school?”

Clare smiled. “No, Miss. Hotel management says education is for boys, sex is for girls.”

“Don’t you want to learn?”

“No Miss, I want to get on the hotel menu so I can make the kind of money my body is worth, like my mother.” “Your mother works here too?”

“Yes, Miss. I work here part-time and my mother full time. Father says we need the money.”

Brenda looked at the girl. “Room 506,” Brenda said as she sipped the coke. The girl typed on her small tablet and tucked it in her waist band and walked back to the bar.

Brenda watched the dancers on the other tables and gave some dollars to the women and girls who danced on her table. The company gave the team an expense account to take care of their needs and spread the cash and the company name around a little.

It was closer to ten o’clock before Miss Ward finally walked in. Watching her approach the table, the eleven year-old suddenly became fully conscious of just how exciting this woman was from the neck down. Her girlish style of dress did not even try to conceal her voluptuous shape. Miss Ward was buxom by nature, but with a rather slim waist, due in part, no doubt, to a disciplined female fitness program that all companies demanded of their older females. Her long shapely legs flowed into full hips, which swayed most enticingly as she trod towards her on six inch stiletto’s.

She slid gracefully into the booth opposite Brenda, putting her legs and feet together at a slight angle and straightening her back. Miss Ward’s name tag had her name, “Cynthia”, with “Property of Female Quality Assets” and a picture of her anus. Feeling satisfied that the arduous negotiations were behind them, Brenda hoped to ease the conversation into more personal matters and hoped her nervousness didn’t show.

The fourteen year-old realized that the older Miss Ward fascinated her, perhaps because she had never before seen this unique combination of beauty, elegance and determination all embodied in the one female. Having steered deliberately clear of female romantic involvements since she was bought by the company last year, Brenda was surprised at the keenness of the curiosity she felt about this poised female executive. Miss Ward ordered a sprite.

“So do I call you Cynthia or Miss Ward?”

“Miss Ward would do nicely. And you?”

“Brenda is fine.”

Brenda was on her second coke, while Cynthia was sipping a sprite. Down the pole slide a young girl, the announcer said her name was Jennifer and she was nine and wearing a sling bikini. As the music thumped the girl smiled at both of them and started gyrating her body around the table.

Brenda moved around the table closer to Miss Ward. She asked her why such an attractive female as she had opted for a rigorous career instead of marriage and popping out girls for the Patriarchy.

Those green eyes searched Brenda as if to calculate the direction this question might take them. Miss Ward seemed to read a great deal about Brenda all at once, a facet of her brilliance Brenda had already noted from the across the conference table.

“I tend to seek intensity in life, like showing my enthusiasm for the Patriarchy and FQA to the fullest extent possible. When required, I have no problem dating boys, the sons of the senior male management,” she paused. Jennifer swung around the pole and squatted in front of Cynthia. The girl reached around with both hands and spread her ass cheeks, her little anus painted with a bulls eye and shook her ass up and down. She stood up smiling and kept gyrating. “I’ve reported my share of women and girls to the thought police, I ensure that our female product line meets the government quality standards so that we can get top dollar for them. I know some company’s cut corners on their female product, but not FQA, as our advertisements say, we are a trusted name in female flesh for the last hundred years.”

Brenda smiled. “That’s why we picked your company for our female needs.” She paused. “So are you married?”

Miss Ward smiled. “No, you?”

Brenda blushed. “No,” then asked. “How old are you? I heard your forty.”

Miss Ward looked at the dancer and then Brenda. Smiled, “39. How old are you?”

Brenda looked at her drink. “14.”

“Once I dated a girl a girl at the company who was 11 but the company frowns on that sort of thing. Creates jealousy and the company and the Patriarchy don’t like jealousy. How about you? Dating?”

Brenda blushed. “No, and I haven’t looked or tried very hard, been busy with work.”

“Aren’t we all? So how long have you worked for AZ?”

“I was purchased four years ago, before our age 10 exams. You? When were you purchased?”

“Fifteen years ago.”

“You seem pretty smart to me, why did the company that owned you sell you fifteen years ago?”

Miss Ward smiled. “The company was about to go bankrupt so they sold all the inventory. The judge ordered the company to sell its office furniture, the females, and a hand full of properties to pay for its debts.”

“Wow, what was your job at this company?”

Miss Ward looked at Brenda and decided she would indulge the girl in small talk. “I was the executive male bathroom attendant. I held their cock while they peed, wiped their ass after they shit and to ensure that their ass was clean I was required to kiss it.”

“Eww!”

Miss Ward smiled. “I know, but, I learned a lot of things in the bathroom, listening to the men talk on their smart phones about business and how to negotiate. Listening the CEO and others talk about business as they sat on the toilet, not realizing I was mentally taking notes of their conversations.”

“So that’s what made you successful?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

Brenda hesitated, then asked. “So do you have time, for like, um, relationships outside you company?”

Miss Ward smiled. “I’ve had some outside relationships with girls, if that’s what you mean.” Miss Ward looked at Brenda and she blushed. “I’ve had relationships with girls younger than you, girls who were 7 and 8 years-old.” Miss Ward paused. “I was engaged once to a ten year-old, the girls mother worked at FQA, which is how I met the girl. But the girls father ended it when he realized the marriage to his daughter wouldn’t succeed in the long term because of my job. He said I was already married to my job.” Miss Ward smiled at the nine year-old dancer as the song ended. “As I said, I’ve dated boys within the company, the sons of the male leadership. Company HR looks the other way with boys of course.” She looked at Brenda keenly and smiled. “Although there have been some lovely prepubescent female relationship moments when I’ve been traveling for work.” She smiled at Brenda.

Brenda’s heart flutter and her stomach continued to tingle and thought to herself, ‘Miss Ward certainly knows how to flirt.’

Both Brenda and Miss Ward each took a dollar bill out of their purse and gave it to the girl. Brenda became aware that the woman’s directness extended beyond the negotiations and into personal conversations as well.

“I can’t imagine you being the type of person married to your job,” Brenda challenged. “Haven’t you found excitement and fulfillment in sex with females or males?”

Miss Ward’s smile was both subtle and coy. “Good sex has been the second most intense experience I’ve had in my life,’ she responded enigmatically.

Brenda could only guess at her meaning. “And the first, I presume,” she declared confidently, “is closing a hard-fought contract for the sale of women and girls?”

“No, that’s third.”

For a moment, Brenda was nonplussed. Miss Ward’s eyes were still fixed on her, the smile was still there and her chin was tilted a little in challenge. She felt that Miss Ward was leading her into something, something she would be delighted to take part of.

“All right then,” she asked, nettled yet intrigued. “What experience ranks first on your “intensity” scale?”

The music started up again and a full bodied woman slid down the pole. Her heavy breasts bouncing back and forth, barely restrained by the bikini top. Brenda caught sight of Carol at the bar. She was standing bent over at the waist with her head buried in the boy’s crotch. On her back were several drinks and a some boys laying bets that she would either spill the drinks or not spill them. Carol was sucking the boy’s cock as best she could without spilling the drinks.

“I enjoy being beaten and humiliated,” she said simply.

Brenda thought that she must have misheard as looked at Miss Ward. She swallowed some coke to cover her surprise and felt sure that Miss Ward’s prompt response had definitely not been mere ad lib.

“Well, not exactly what I had expected to hear,” she managed at last but she felt that wonderful tingling in her stomach.

Miss Ward gave a soft laugh and tilted her head to brush back the rich auburn hair from her brow. “You must have learned by now that I don’t deal in the “expected”,” she teased. “Though your look of shock was certainly that.”

“A strong woman like you into being beaten and humiliated? I would not have guessed,” the fourteen year-old replied.

Cynthia’s smile was amused. “I love being made to do things against my will,” she sat up straighter, green eyes sparkling. “Being made to wear and do things in public. I’ve never felt more alive than when I am humiliated, that’s why I love supporting the Patriarchy, why I live for the Patriarchy.”

“You make me somehow feel embarrassed for asking you.” Brenda replied. She looked guardedly at this magnetically attractive woman who held such power to surprise.

Brenda realized how tense the woman had been up to that point. Miss Ward relaxed a little, smiled, “How about another drink and I’ll tell you a little more?”

Brenda looked around the room and raised her hand and waived at the server. The girl came over and took the order.

Brenda’s mind spun with anticipation as they both watched the buxom woman on the table shake her pussy and tits in their face. She was working hard to earn their money. The woman had some serious stretch marks which meant that she had once been a “breeder” for the Patriarchy popping out 3 girls to 1 boy. It also meant that she had been in a re-education center. She watched as the woman smiled and shook her charms. Brenda wondered what the woman did before she was reported to the female thought police. Returning her thoughts to Miss Ward, Brenda had no idea where all this would lead, but was sure she had more in mind than idle chatter.

Cynthia sipped her second sprite flavored with mint. “To begin with, I was a natural baby, not a government baby. My father was wealthy and we lived in the best gated neighborhood in the city.”

So the rumors were true thought Brenda.

“My father was as giving as possible for a male. He was the CEO of a well-regarded private school for boys that taught them females of all ages were for their enjoyment. So while I was well cared for, my father practiced what he taught.” She paused and looked at the dancing woman as the song ended. Neither Miss Ward or Brenda gave the woman any money. “His house was a strict one and growing up meant spankings and other degrading things for me and my mother. From my earliest recollections till my father sold me at 15, I learned how depraved he could be.”

Miss Ward took another sip of her sprite. “I started learning how to suck his cock, learned how my father liked his hand jobs as he watched TV and how to make “tongue love” to his anus. Mother and I would share his cock with our mouths, other times, we would compete against each other for the honor of sucking his cock. By the time of my first blood I could deep throat father right down to his balls. I could hold my breath for a couple of minutes and so as I deep throated him, he’d cum directly into my stomach.” Miss Ward looked at Brenda for a reaction. “My mother couldn’t deep throat him like I could. No matter how hard she worked on her gag reflex, she just couldn’t do it. From then on she was jealous of me.”

“Father would spank us for the smallest infraction, sometimes he spanked us just because he wanted to. At times, mother and I were spanked together, some times I watched as she was spanked and she watched as I was spanked. Mother and I would bend naked over a padded waist high plastic saw horse, the horse we called it, that would be placed in the center of the room.”

Another dancer slid down the pole.

She continued. “If we were spanked together, our hands would be clasped behind our back, I would lean over one side of the horse and mother would lean over the other side. We would be shoulder to shoulder as father walked around the horse slapping our ass. Sometimes a spanking could last hours as we were bent over the horse. After the spanking we would have reflection time. When I was little, mother would kneel at my height and our noses would touch and we would stare into each others eyes, our hands clasped on top of our heads When I was older, she and I would stand face to face, our noses touching. In the living room, mother and I put full length mirrors on the wall and we would stand in front of the mirror with our noses touching it, looking at our eyes looking back at us. We learned patience as we had to wait until father called time.”

Cynthia took a sip of sprite and looked around the room then back at Brenda. “Every couple of months mother and I would paint the horse a new color and write encouraging words on it. Like I said, mother and I would suck his cock and balls and kiss his anus. He loved it when we competed with each other to see who could make him cum first. Before I had my first blood, I would watch father have sex with my mother after her spanking, learning, as my father said. Other times I would be in bed with them as father fucked mother. The slap, slap, slap of flesh on flesh. Her squealing. I wondered if I would be a squealer when my time came.”

Miss Ward had Brenda’s attention. “If father had the school leadership over for a party, mother and I would wear stiletto’s and thigh stockings, would put on a show for them, such as kissing, rubbing our tits together, rubbing our bodies together, spitting on each other and slapping each other’s face. His friends would laugh and make crude jokes as we debased ourselves for their enjoyment. That’s when I realized that I enjoyed humiliation, I got a ‘high’ from it.”

Miss Ward looked at the dancers and back to Brenda. “I learned how to kiss and lick mother’s anus, as a show of course for the school leadership, but secretly I enjoyed the taste and feel of her muscle. How it would flex when I would poke it with my tongue, how it tried to clamp around my tongue.” Miss Ward seemed embarrassed by that piece of information. Brenda squirmed.

She took another sip of sprite. “Sometimes father would bring us to the school wearing skimpy clothes and dog collars. He had a double dog leash attached to our collars. Mother and I walking ahead of him in skimpy almost see through clothes. He would walk us around campus, I was just starting to flower and outwardly was ashamed and embarrassed to be displayed like that but inwardly, I loved the humiliation.”

Miss Ward looked at Brenda. “Obviously, father took my virginity at 14, as was his right.” She paused to sip her sprite and watch the lady the finish her dance. “He had mother get on her hands and knees in the living room, then he had me lay on her back facing up, pulling my legs back to my breasts. My mother held me up as my father fucked my cunt, then my anus, breaking my hymen and my blood running onto the small of her back.”

Miss Ward paused, but only briefly. “By the age of 15, my independent streak was in full force. And at times my nature bordered on rebellious, especially when it came to curfews and dating other females. Yes I prefer females. Father of course wanted me to date boys and produce babies for the Patriarchy.” She paused. “Father and I were constantly at odds, I fought him on everything, and so that’s why he sold me, to get rid me and rebellious nature.”

Cynthia sipped her sprite. “Anyway, after father broke my hymen, I replaced my mother in her marital bed. She moved into the my room. Father no longer spanked her or had sex with her. Mother of course would “warm” father up before he fucked me and she would stand there and watch us, then clean his cock afterwards. She was a shamed woman. Such was the way in our house, but I lacked for nothing.”

Cynthia paused as another girl slid down the pole. She looked to be Brenda’s age.

“One night over dinner I argued for dating who I wanted given that, I was fifteen and graduated, I was an adult. My mother stressed that I was subject to father’s rules as long as I was living under his roof, I lost control and foolishly used the word “bitch”. Quite naturally, father then stepped in and said such disrespect in his house required severe correction in the one way I’d be sure to remember.”

Brenda stared, her drink forgotten. “What was he going to do?”

“A beating,” smiled Cynthia.

“A beating?” Brenda’s heart fluttered and she had a tingling sensation between her legs.

“Why not? Any other punishment would have been too soft.”