Back in her cell, Kristin found her mind racing. Apparently it was "night", but for the first time since being thrown in the shipping container, she'd felt something other than numb terror. Her mind raced with thoughts she struggled to order. First, she now knew exactly what was intended of her, but the idea of being some unknown person's sex slave still had enough unknown she couldn't quite get her head around it. She had a vague Arabian Nights impression, except maybe with Ferraris instead of camels, when trying to picture who would buy her and what he'd do with her.
What he'd do with her. And there's what it kept coming back to. The thrill and the rush she'd felt, not only as the trainer had touched her, but as she'd watched the other girls humiliated. The line about how the "drippy hole between her legs" controlling her stuck with her in particular, causing a pang in the pit of her stomach. She'd moaned and gasped like a whore when he touched her and she'd have done anything for him to do more. She still felt wet and her nipples stiffened again at the thought of his touch.
Resistance seemed completely futile. She'd seen enough of the place she was being kept to know that it was a very large and well-organized group training her and possibly hundreds of other girls. Not only could she not imagine how to escape and how to run, her body was betraying her as well.
But if she did nothing she'd be a slave, both in body and in mind. She was sure that if that horrible man had her a few more days, resistance would be even harder and her body would be even more desperately aroused. Used like a whore and sold like livestock. Not the future she'd pictured when writing college admission essays just a few months before.
Kristin had often fantasized about a powerful and dominant man taking advantage of her, though she felt a bit guilty and unfeminist about it, but never anything like this. Instead of a dark passionate Heathcliff with a pair of handcuffs like in the stories she'd seen online, this was an ice-cold professional with a clinical manner doing a job he'd done a hundred times before and would do a hundred times again while some oil baron violated her body in a Dubai high-rise. The sheik, now, he would be dark and passionate, with a pinstriped suit and a brooding manner, and she would look stunning in a pair of high heels and a gold chain waiting on the white couch in his penthouse...
Kristin's reverie was interrupted by the slot at the bottom of her cell door sliding open and a tray being pushed through. She realized to her horror that her hand had strayed between her legs as her imagination wandered. She had to keep her "drippy hole" from breaking and betraying her while she figured out how to escape somehow.
On the tray was a water bottle, a grayish patty of some sort, some sad-looking rice, and a green apple. Despite how unappetizing the food looked, Kristin's stomach growled at the thought of it. She wondered again just how long she'd been gone that she could be so hungry. She speculated briefly as to whether the food was drugged, until her stomach argued that starving to death would be much worse than any drug they could be giving her. Besides, why would they have to while her body was completely at their mercy anyway?
After eating a meal hardly worse than anything her school cafeteria had served, Kristin found it even harder to focus and organize her thoughts. Immediately after being fed, her treacherous body then reminded her that it had been a very long time since she'd had what felt like a proper night's sleep. The dim light in her cell, the moderate comfort of her cot and its dingy gray blanket, and her full stomach all conspired to lead her down the path of fantasy again, and her hand slipped between her legs once more as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.
Kristin awoke with a start at the harsh industrial sound of an buzzer. Her head had the heavy foggy feeling that comes after way too much deep sleep and she thought she could even feel a little drool on her cheek. It took her a moment to get her bearings and realize she wasn't in her bed at home. She was still a sex slave, whatever that meant. She was still naked in an industrial building somewhere far outside the United States. And she had been promised that today her training was beginning in earnest.
The voice of her trainer crackled over a speaker above her head. "Good morning, sluts. You will be served breakfast shortly. You have 15 minutes to eat it. When you hear the warning tone, stand with your arms boxed and eyes down on the blue tape strip in front of your cell door. Await further instruction."
The slot at the base of Kristin's door slid open to reveal just a bottle of water and a granola bar with Chinese writing and a cartoon teddy bear on it. She finished both quickly and was already standing on the tape strip when the buzzer sounded again.
"Box your arms, cunt, don't hang them behind your back. Eyes down, doll. Now, when the door opens, walk to the center of the hallway and turn to face the door out."
The metal door slid upwards and downwards like an old-fashioned elevator, revealing the wire cage front she'd seen before, but with the door opened. Kristin quickly complied, making sure to keep her eyes down. She could see minou in front of her but couldn't guess anything about the other girl's stance or mindset without looking up at her.
A woman who Kristin had never seen, not the trainer, was the one who came down the line clipping cuffs together. She jerked each girl forward in turn, clipping a four-foot chain to the front and back of their collars and put a large blindfold over each slave's eyes. Kristin tried valiantly to peek, but try as she might, she could see nothing but a sliver of light under each eye.
"Move!" shouted the woman from the front of the line, and led by minou, Kristin marched forward. They went some distance further than she was expecting, apparently out of the training room and down another damp concrete hallway. When they stopped, the woman came down the line again, removing each girl's blindfold and unchaining her. Besides unclipping Kristin's cuffs, she removed them entirely and dropped them in a basket she carried, leaving the collar on. Without looking around, Kristin could see she was in what looked like a locker room, with doorless lockers, benches, and a smell of bleach and mildew she recognized from her high school gym thousands of miles away.
The woman addressed the girls in a very distinctly Hispanic accent, as though she'd learned English from a book and was only sure of the words if she could spit them out in a series of exclamations. "You need fit bodies! So I help you! You do what I say or you go to lower level! Now follow me!"
The girls shuffled forward after the woman into a room about the dimensions of the room their trainer had spoken to them in the day before. Unlike the other one, this room was brightly lit with a strange bluish tinge that slightly hurt Kristin's eyes and had some sort of soft springy mat lining the floor and walls up to about six feet. It took Kristin to identify the light as coming from sunlight lamps, the kind with UV used for tanning and to treat seasonal depression, and the fact that she found it odd was because she hadn't seen sunlight in a long time. An unknown amount of time.
The woman spread the girls out in a circle across the room and put them through a slow warmup, then a yoga-type workout that left Kristin, who had always been in good shape from gymnastics (up until puberty), dance, and playing softball, shaking and sore in muscle groups she didn't know she had. The woman's tone was surprisingly soft and gentle given her almost military harshness earlier, and Kristin recognized the in the zone expression of someone doing what they love as she pushed the five naked girls to stretch themselves further. Kristin did find herself trying to sneak peeks at the other girls, but after the first "Pay attention, you", focused on the exercise instead.
The workout actually left Kristin feeling strangely relaxed and better about herself, and she found herself smiling a bit for the first time in days as the woman cooled the girls down, stretched them out, and stood them back up in a line. "Now go get clean and eat, hard day today. Forward!" The woman led them through the locker room and into a group shower stall.
"Get clean! Five minutes!"
Kristin enjoyed the hot water and the rough bar of lye-smelling soap provided for exactly five minutes, until the water turned off and the woman shouted again. "Dry off! Hurry!" Five rough beige towels were on the bench in the locker room, and Kristin took her place between minou and lilly again as she dried off. The motion gave her a chance to sneak peeks at her fellow slaves and she felt a momentary tinge of jealousy at cunt's slender hourglass figure and tits' large breasts and round ass. Jealousy why, though? All that meant was that they would bring a higher price when sold as slaves, right?
"Box arms! Let's go!" Kristin found herself automatically assuming the position without thought as the woman came down the line attaching cuffs, blindfolding and chaining the girls together again. Another long shuffle together, and the girls were stopped and had their blindfolds removed in the familiar training room. Where they had lined up the day before were five trays, on each of which were a steaming bowl of oatmeal, a peeled banana, and a cup of what looked like yogurt, along with a bottle of water.
The trainer was there as well, with his usual knowing smirk and a large coffee mug. "Morning, sluts. Breakfast is ready. Now, you may have noticed that the lady who was kind enough to lead your exercise neglected to unclip your wrists. Like everything else here, this was by design. Eating with fork and spoon is a privilege for human beings, and you have not earned it yet. Now, I expect to see all of you finish your meals, since busy little slaves need healthy bodies, so on my command, march over to your spots, and await my command to get on your knees and chow down like the hungry little animals you are."
Kristin's good feeling toward the world brought on by the workout and hot shower evaporated and she once again felt a flipping sensation in the pit of her stomach. There was no way she could forget the awful reality of where she was eating from a dish like a dog. But he was right, she was hungry, the granola bar earlier hadn't satisfied at all, and as usual, there was no way she could see around doing exactly what was demanded of her.
"Go ahead to your places, sluts. doll, this is the last time today I tell you to keep your eyes down. Wait for my command, tits. Now turn and face the middle. Good girls. On your knees. Go ahead and eat."
He sat down in a folding camp chair facing the five girls with a clipboard in his hand, but instead of looking at his paperwork, he sat and watched the girls. Kristin sat on her knees, staring down at her food. She felt that if he just took his eyes off her, she'd be able to do it, but knowing that his knowing stare was on her made it impossible.
"Not hungry, slaves? There, lilly is eating. Good girl, lilly. Last face I see go into her food is going to be made an example of. Good girl, minou. I see you want to, doll."
Kristin's face flushed as she pushed her face down into the oatmeal and began lapping it with her tongue. She felt it smear all over her face, but pushed the thoughts of being watched out of her mind.
"Good girl, doll. Good job, tits. Uh-oh, cunt. Looks like we're making an example. Go ahead and eat, don't make me stand up, or you're going to be very sorry. There we go."
