Feminine Imports Ch 10

Hey everyone, thanks for coming back! This will be the closing of the

Feminine Imports

story. I'd like to thank everyone not only for sticking around until the end. I don't like to neglect my craft for this long, but sometimes life gets in the way of hobby-writing porn. Who knows, maybe I might even become a pro writer one day! That'd be kinda cool, amirite?

But seriously folks, thank you for all the love and patience you've heaped on me over the past 10ish months (ever since the "Dave" series started). Feel free to leave comments down below, or for those stricken with stage-fright, send me a feedback email. I love hearing what you guys have to say; whether it's alternate story ideas, reader theories, pestering me about other works, recommending other stories to read, or just to say

Hii.

Needless to say; consent Is necessary in real-life.

Samantha Miller woke up in a cell, stark naked. After the bailiff removed her from the court, she was sent straight to a special wing of the federal detention center used to house female inmates destined for the auction block. Samantha had been poked and prodded constantly; blood samples needed to be taken for the eventual slave dossier and sedatives needed to be injected to make her less overtly violent with the guards.

Since the Female Slavery Laws had passed, parts of women's prisons had been converted into beauty parlor's. Every female inmate who was to be sold at auction following their sentencing was sent for mandatory beautification; laser hair removal, manicure/pedicure, skin exfoliation, and a cosmetic dental touch-up was the standard issue for most soon-to-be-slaves.

Fiscal watchdog NGO's first tried to make a stink about the cost of installing these beauty parlors inside of women's prisons. After all, women's beauty parlors are more capital-intensive than men's barbershops. At first, there was some political jockeying and posturing necessary by the Congressional supporters of the idea; they posited that the extra income made from beautifying female inmates prior to auction would more than pay for the facility upgrades. After all, the thinking went, citizens would pay extra for women who were more attractive than untreated inmates.

After 9 months of the involuntary beauty parlor's launch, the spike in auction income was undeniable; they became a major revenue generator for the facility. Thus, fiscal watchdog NGO's and well-intended liberals hemmed-and-hawed at the practice but had no operational leg to stand on when opposing the practice. They switched to their moral arguments, which mostly just fell on deaf ears.

Samantha was just another inmate to be processed against her will through the standard battery of beautification standards. She looked at the polished metal plate in her isolated cell, absolutely hating what she had been forced to become, though also too drugged out to feel any rage regarding her situation. What was once a mighty lioness had now become a demure zoo animal.

The day of the auction came as her bloodwork was healthy and STD panel came back negative. Since she was sentenced to a federal prison, her auction would be open to the whole nation. Nationwide inmate auctions typically attracted much more eyeballs than the local auctions, and the fact that the disgraced leader of

The Pink Claw

was for sale drew significantly more eyeballs than usual. Millions tuned into the livestream, even if their pockets weren't deep enough to seriously compete in a bidding war.

The warden's designee led Samantha, out onto the stage. Samantha, who was cuffed in standard inmate shackles, nude and ball-gagged was ordered to turn and face the cameras. Much like her day in court, her time on the auction block felt more like an out-of-body experience than anything; it was the only way she could cope with her new reality. Ten days ago, she was a free woman-albeit the most wanted woman in America, according to the FBI-and now she was a convicted felon and about to be a slave.

The bidding started, and her price instantly soared into the five figures. Athletes, tech entrepreneurs, Wall Street executives and other oligarchs had all put in bids for the legal right to own Samantha. Soon the price was north of $400,000; it wasn't everyday that one had the chance to enslave a former fem-terrorist leader.

Minutes dragged by and Samantha felt weak at the knees, she started physically trembling as she saw the price tag on her literal life climb higher and higher. The lengthening number, now in the single-digit millions, showed that she was going to become the property of someone with the means of controlling her existence down to the most granular detail.

The bidding slowed at the $3 million mark as the number of bidders thinned. There were two bidders left; a financial services company based in Guam, and a retired professional athlete turned real-estate tycoon. Eventually, the bidding stopped, and the gavel was dropped. Samantha Miller, aka

Madam Lioness

was sold at federal auction for $3.963 million; quite a wide margin for the prison, indeed.

Fallen Rock, NM: Tuesday

It had been 10 weeks since Steven acquired the abandoned wholesale warehouse for $1 from the town of Fallen Rock, New Mexico. Since then, Steve had been concentrating nearly all of his efforts on getting the new Southwestern hub operational. After all, he had a commitment to keep to Dennis to hire dozens of local residents to aid in the clean-up, turnaround, and operational kickstart of the new company site. Stuck in his old habit, Steven had set-up a makeshift bedroom for himself inside the office where Dennis had violated Crystal mere weeks earlier. Steve had left the operation of the Northeast sit mostly up to Brett and Carlos, and they had both proven to be capable leaders in their newfound roles.

The day after the Samantha's auction, Steve was on his daily operations call with Brett. After they had finished briefly going over discussing the schedule for the next few days and improvement ideas, the conversation shifted.

"Yo Boss, you hear about that psycho bitch, Madam Lioness?"

"Yeah, she got convicted" Steve said nonchalantly. "What about her?"

"She sold for a record at the prison auction."

"Hmm, you don't say" Steve said politely, yet his indifference was readily apparent.

"The crazy chick who tried to burn your house down, and who you helped put away" Brett reminded. "You really don't care?"

"Have we been contracted for her transport?" Steve asked, already knowing the answer.

"Sadly, no."

"Then I don't really care who bought her or where the bitch winds up. Face down in a roadside ditch for all I fucking care."

Steve ended the call shortly thereafter with Brett. After all, he had a new Southwestern business hub to run. The breakneck pace of the new facility start-up was a lot for Steve, even for a founder who was used to sleeping in his desk. As much as he delegated off to Brett, he still felt the need to check up on the site he built from nothing. However, he had to wrestle that with the need to let go and to let Brett handle things.

Suddenly, he got a call from a familiar number. A sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach; he knew that he had to answer though was slightly dreading it. The phone seemed to ring forever as Steve motioned for Brian to stop what he was doing and come over. Steve reluctantly answered the phone as Brian stood next to him.

"This is Steve, and you're on speakerphone."

"Ah yes Steve, this is Detective Fraggipone."

"My attorney is present and listening to this call" Steve curtly reminded the trench-coated cop. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Well, I'm just here to frankly thank you for your cooperation in bringing Samantha Miller, better known as

Madam Lioness

to justice. Thanks to the evidence seized on her computer, which we connected to Rae, strike teams have been taking down one

Pink Claw

cell after another across the nation."

Steve said nothing and let the silence hang in the air for an uncomfortable length of time. "So, given that Rae's computer being used in the conviction is a matter of public record, and the statement you just made, I imagine that the funds will be deposited into my company's account soon...

right

?"

Steve knew that he had the reward system right where he wanted it. While Fraggipone had little control over the dispersal of the funds, Steve still enjoyed making the big-nosed detective squirm. After all, Fraggipone had been the front-man for much of Steve's headaches lately; every minute not spent expanding the business was a minute wasted; justice be damned.

Fraggipone cleared his throat. "Yes, we'll send an encrypted e-mail over to the address you provided us."

Fraggipone exhaled, his delivery exuded reluctance "After receiving the account information, the funds will be deposited within a business day." Fraggipone used a lengthy pause to his advantage "After-tax, of course."

"Fine by me."

Steve hung up on the Detective as if he were closing the bureaucrat out of existence. Steve wondered if his having Brian around for this call was necessary, though much of the value in having an in-house lawyer is that their mere presence tends to keep others honest.

Thursday in Fallen Rock

Steve had spent much of the day walking the floor of his new distribution center; partly to inspect for himself the progress that was being made relative to what needed to be finished next, and partly to build a rapport with his newly hired employees. Steve's mission wasn't to connect a name to a face right away, but it instead to build goodwill and approachability among the rank-and-file employees of his new site.

He went upstairs to the office that he shared with Brian and flipped open his laptop. He checked the account of his company, and was astonished at what he saw. Three million dollars (minus taxes, of course!) had been deposited by the Feds. Steve was stunned that Uncle Sam had not only kept his word, but paid on the timetable that was originally promised.

Ideas started racing around in Steve's head about all the upgrades to the business that he could buy with the money. Though he decided on one thing first-and-foremost; a celebration for his employees. After all, there was a lot going well; a new Southwestern hub, revenue was steadily growing in the Northeast, no more Fraggipone or Madam Lioness. The calendar was not Steve's friend-in the startup world, it never is- but he opted for something small and casual. He opened a few tabs on his laptop and began exploring venue and catering options near his home.

Given that the snow was beginning to melt in the Northeast, Steve knew that the rising temperatures would also mean rising venue prices-assuming he could score a venue at all. He then decided to internally yell

Fuck it

and sent out a company-wide email; Saturday afternoon would be the inaugural Feminine Imports company party at Steve's backyard.

One fucking email, and be done with it

Steve thought.

Saturday, In The Northeast

Steve scrambled last minute to get everything lined up in his backyard, though he had to actively remind himself that today was supposed to be a fun day; a celebration. Guests would start arriving soon-mostly just his employees, representatives from his clients, and other close associates of Feminine Imports.

He set up a booth right at the edge of his driveway stocked with all of the essentials that his party guests would need. Black sharpies, name tags, condoms, and lubricant were all ready.

Steve wasn't quite done setting up when his first guests arrived albeit about thirty minutes earlier than scheduled. Carlos got out of his Subaru after parking in Steve's driveway, and he got out to help Michelle out of the passenger's side. Her pregnancy was now roughly 4 months along, and while her condition was not overly-restrictive to warrant that level of mobility assistance, the fact that she was leashed, box-tied, ball-gagged and wearing only a red robe and sandals had made navigation significantly harder.

"Ayo Boss, what's happenin'?"

Steve looked up, jubilant to see his new Head of Maintenance, as Steve saw fit to give Carlos a promotion after handing over the ordering responsibilities to him.

"Carlos! Good to see you!" Steve gave Carlos an enthusiastic fist bump.

He turned to the captive Michelle; ever so radiant due to her pregnancy, though her face still maintained the demure cuteness that had captured the attraction of countless men during her time at Cornell. "She looks as great as ever. Hey, the food will be here soon, feel free to take her out to the back so she can say hi to her old terrorist buddies."

"Well, she ain't gonna be

saying

anything" Carlos replied, and the two men shared a heartfelt laugh. Carlos tugged on Michelle's leash hard enough to signal to move with him, though not too hard to disturb her vulnerable balance.

Carlos rounded the corner, past the window that Michelle had broken into many months ago and what she saw made her face turn pale. Rae, Courtney, Crystal, and Kelly were all hog-tied on a table. Their knees were spread apart to allow unimpeded access to their lasered pussies, their arms tied in the reverse-prayer position in order to remove the possibility of resistance, their mouths were hopelessly ball-gagged.

Carlos shot a look towards Steve, and the founder replied with a single word "Entertainment."

Soon others started to arrive; Roy and George had arrived, as had Brian LeClair and Dennis Green. Shockingly, an older van pulled up with Nevada license plates. Steve peered around the corner to the unrecognized vehicle.

Is this another attack from The Pink Claw? Even as Madam Kitty-Bitch was convicted and auctioned off?

His senses were heightened for a moment.

No, it can't be. This is too brazen, even for them; broad daylight, too many witnesses.

Steve's rationalizing went into hyper-drive.

But then again, the attack on Vegas; that was a brazen as it gets

Steve mind raced further.

The sliding door opened and a bunch of young men came spilling out, their enthusiasm for the event met only by their compulsive need to stretch their legs and crack their backs. Steve recognized them immediately; they were Damon, Kyle, Logan, Joe, Corey, and several other new hires from the Fallen Rock site. Steve's blood pressure dropped for the moment.

"Guys! You guys...flew all the way out here from New Mexico?"

Corey spoke up. "Nah, we couldn't afford that, so we all chipped in for this van. My buddy works at the rental yard and he got me a sick deal. But yeah, we wouldn't miss the Feminine Imports party for the world man!" He gave Steve a firm handshake. "Thanks for setting up shop out in our town dude. You're doing big things, man!"

Steve was instantly hit with several emotions at once; flabbergasted that his new employees willingly drove themselves across the country for an optional weekend event, beating himself up forgetting to advertise the team building event in New Mexico, severe guilt that he hadn't done more to include the New Mexico employees, heart-warm that Corey and the gang genuinely meant their gratitude.

"Guys, save all your rental and gas receipts, alright? I'll reimburse you guys." He stared them in the eye. "Going forward, I'll make sure to host events like this in New Mexico; save yourselves the round-the-clock drive, kay?"

Corey and his crew were nearly jumping for joy, in the rambunctious way that men below 25 are oft known to do.

"Head out back guys, you'll see the entertainment. Grab a latex and knock yourselves out."

Steve tried as best as he could to project warmth as a host, which felt a bit foreign to him. As if on cue, folks starting to take name tags and stick them onto their shirts. Dennis Green, ever the experienced politician, was the first to start

working the room

and began introducing himself.

Corey and the rest of the New Mexico dude-bros could be heard hollering their excitement at the sight of the restrained fuck-slaves available. Their outburst was so sudden and so loud that the women on the table flinched a little, as if they were animals at a petting zoo startled by a loud noise. Crystal's eye's widened as she saw her former rapist Dennis walk by her field of vision.

Steve walked out to his backyard and whistled loudly to get everyone's attention. The idle conversations stopped and everyone turned their attention to Steve.

"Hey everyone, I'd just like to say a few words. First off, thank you guys so much for coming today. This is really a celebration of all of you guys, and for Feminine Imports as a whole. None of this would be possible without you."

Steve motioned towards the table where he had his four captives secured in their vulnerable positions "These four are free-use for anyone here at the party." Steve was met with a roar of hoots "There's condoms upfront for everyone who has not been pre-tested via the

SlaveShare

program. They're required if you haven't been tested, but for everyone else, they're optional. All three holes are open for use, but please re-gag them after your done using their mouths. Oh, and try not to leave any lasting marks, alright guys?"

"But hey, I don't want to make too many rules. Feel free to grab a marker and write whatever you want on them" Steve offered. "Bonus points for humor and creativity!" he half-joked. "The food will be here soon. That's all!"

With that, there was a mass migration to the folding table at the edge of Steve's driveway, much of it comprising of Steve's new employees from the Southwest who had never participated in the generous perk at Feminine Import before.

Within two minutes, latex-encased cocks were firmly inside of all four exposed pussies. Rae and her fellow domestic terrorists had started to plea unintelligibly through their gags, but their cries fell on seemingly deaf ears. If anything, it only encouraged the new hires from New Mexico to ramp up their rapacious intensity. Dennis Green stood in front of Crystal and unbuckled her ball-gag. He pinched her nose in order to force her mouth open, as Kyle from Fallen Rock was pumping away inside of her. Crystal could not hold her breath. Crystal relented and opened her mouth as she ran low on oxygen, and Dennis promptly shoved his plastic-encased cock inside of her.

At first, Dennis stood there and Crystal bobbed her head up-and-down his shaft, if for no other reason than for self-preservation. However, her current bound circumstances limited her range of motion, thus Dennis took matters into his own hands. He grabbed Crystals head with both hands to keep her still and started to mouth-fuck her. Crystal gargled and could be heard audibly choking and gasping as the middle-aged man's cock violated her throat; the enthusiasm of Dennis' mouthfuck was quite high.

A line had formed behind each gagged slave, though others took Dennis' lead and moved in front of each woman, unbuckled their gags, and shoved their cocks inside of the women's mouths.

A silver Rolls Royce slowly crept up to Steven Sharper's home. Greydon Michael's parked his expensive car on the street in front of Steve's home and cut the engine. He got out of the expensive car and assisted his passenger, a blindfolded woman in a red satin cloak, out of his car. Her hands were tied behind her back and upon her exit, he tugged on the Italian leather leash hard enough to let her know that it was time to start walking.

Steve saw Greydon approaching the party and decided to proactively greet his investor.

"Greydon, good to see you!" Steve shook Greydon's hand. "Fashionably late I see" he chuckled.