Consummation

FIVE


“Is this the girl?” a new voice asked, startling Jack so that she almost looked up. Just in time, she caught herself.

“Yes, that’s her.”

Jack listened to Grange feed the registrar a pack of lies about her age and acquisition. Once she became accustomed to the cold, she actually found the whole experience quite uninteresting. This gave her plenty of time to fret over her fate. Who would buy her? Would she be purchased as a servant in a home? Maybe a sex toy for some rich man or worse, a rich man’s son. The thought sickened her. She was too pretty. She’d been told often enough that she was a looker. Now every fear imaginable coursed through her veins. What would they do to her? She would be raped soon enough, of that she had no doubt. But when? And by whom? Maybe she would be sold as a breeder. Oh, joy.

Another tug on her leash made her jerk to her feet. Eyes still to the floor, she shuffled behind Grange after he said his goodbyes to the registrar. Each step carried her closer toward… something. Some nightmare. She didn’t even know what to expect, other than the fact that she was finally approaching a true loss of freedom, in every sense of the word.

Back in the cab. No words were spoken. She was receding inward, trying to pretend that this wasn’t happening. She was doing a fairly decent job of it, too. At least, she was until the cab stopped a final time.

“Thanks a lot, man,” Grange said, paying the cabbie once more. Jack and Spinelli crawled out of the car after him. “Eyes still to the ground. Here’s the most important part of the day. Once you’re bought and paid for, I don’t really give a shit what you do. You’re none of my concern anymore. But until then, you’re going to be extremely careful, you understand? Eyes to the floor. Don’t speak unless asked a direct question. End everything with ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am.’ If they tell you to look at them, do not, I repeat, do not look them in the eye. Just stand beside me until given an order, and obey each order to the letter. Got it?”

Jack nodded.

“Hey, I asked you a direct question!”

“Yes, sir,” she responded softly. Why make things harder on herself than they already were?

Grange replied after a moment, “You’re an okay kid. I hate having to be such an ass, but it’s just how the trade runs. It’s nothing personal.”

It didn’t seem to require a response, so Jack held her peace. His words didn’t comfort her at all. It just reinforced the fact that she was little more than an animal now.

She took in as much of her new surroundings as she could, considering that her eyes were pointed straight down. It seemed to be a large piece of property, with warehouses or something in the back of the huge manor house. Perhaps there were people in her peripheral vision, but as much as she flicked her eyes about beneath her bowed head, she couldn’t make out any detail.

Grange rang the doorbell. It was an old-fashioned one. Jack could hear the chimes echoing within the building.

The door opened momentarily. “Do you have an appointment?” a demur male voice asked.

“Yeah. Tell Mr. Bentley that Keith Grange and Jonathan Spinelli are here with the merchandise for him to inspect.”

“Yes, sir. If you would please wait inside?”

It reminded Jack of some civil-war vid from Old Earth. Doormen? Servants? Was this… butler… a slave, too?

She never did find out, because soon a new voice rang out. “Well, bring her in, Grange! I don’t have all day.”

A rapid tug on her leash was all that was needed to get her moving. She was becoming well trained already. A stream of hysterical, humorless laughter threatened to spill from her lips, but she swallowed it back down. This interview, for want of a better word, would determine whether or not she was sold to a mine. At least, that was what she’d understood from Grange.

She was dying to glance up and see what this Mr. Bentley looked like, but she didn’t dare. She contented herself with memorizing the subtly complex weave of the carpet underfoot.

“Leave, Grange. I want to talk to her. And take the idiot with you.”

Grange didn't seem to like the idea, but Bentley insisted. “Leave the leash if you like, but I want the both of you out. I’ll call you back in when I’m finished with her.”

“Gonna give her a trial run?” Spinelli spoke up lecherously from the direction of the doorway as Grange unclipped the leash. Jack welcomed the small measure of freedom.

“Shut up, you asshole!” Grange’s parting words were drowned out when the door slid shut.

“Now. What is your name?”

“Jack, sir.” She kept her voice soft and her eyes pointed straight down.

“Jack. Odd name for a girl. Short for?”

“Jacqueline. Sir,” she added hastily.

“Look at me, Jacqueline.”

Jack raised her face in his general direction, but kept her eyes pointed stubbornly down.

“I said look at me, not at the floor. Look me in the eye.”

Jack hesitantly raised her eyes. This was exactly what she had been told not to do, but he had ordered her to do it. She just hoped she wasn’t fucking things up for herself.

“Hm. Pretty eyes. Stand, turn around. Take off your clothes.”

“What?” The word popped out before she could stop it.

Bentley set his jaw and stared at her. “You heard me. Take off your clothes.”

“Wh—yes, sir.” Jack forced back the question and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was being made to strip. After Riddick, this should have been no big deal. But Riddick was familiar, no matter how intimidating. This Bentley was a stranger.

With shaking hands, she pulled off her top and, after a moment’s hesitation, unhooked her bra. The cool air made her nipples pucker. She bit her lip. This was humiliating. Beyond humiliating.

After kicking off her shoes gracelessly, she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them gently down around the swell of her hips. Stepping out of them, she couldn’t help shyly trying to hide her hair-covered mound or her vulnerable breasts.

“Hands clasped at the back of your neck. Turn around.”

What the hell?

As soon as she complied, however, she found out the reason. It pulled her entire body erect and made her chest thrust forward slightly. It was a good position to view her in.

She slowly turned around, giving Bentley a good view of all 360 degrees of her body.

“Tiptoes. Do the same thing.”

This she found utterly pointless, but she obeyed him. She was starting to get cold, and suppressed a shiver.

“Good. Very good. Put your clothes back on.”

Relieved, Jack hastily gathered her clothes and started rushing into them.

“Stop.”

Jack froze. What had she done wrong?

“Do it slowly. Relax. Don’t rush around. Be graceful. The kind of slave you’re going to be is always graceful.”

Jack took a moment to calm down. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, taking deep, quiet breaths. The kind of slave she was going to be? And what kind of slave was that?

“Giselle!” Bentley called out a name just as Jack began to put her clothes back on for the second time. The sudden sound made her wince. Her muscles were so tense, it was a wonder that they didn’t pop off of her bones entirely.

A woman stepped into the room from a side door. Her blonde hair was wavy and hung around one side of her face. She was dressed all in white, and there was a telltale collar around her neck. Another slave, then.

“Yes?’ Giselle responded.

“Take the girl back there and have her examined. Then get her dressed in something more appropriate.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman, who on closer inspection was older than she first appeared, beckoned to Jack.

“Just a second,” Jack said, still tying her shoelaces.

Giselle waited patiently by the door, but when Jack approached her, she was met with a stinging slap across the face. She gasped and brought a hand to her flaming cheek. Giselle looked at her impersonally. “You need to learn to be more polite. Did I ask you a question? Did I even speak to you?”

“No, I—”

As Giselle brought her hand back for the second slap, all Jack had time to do was flinch. The second slap was harder than the first, and it brought tears to her eyes.

“Have you no training at all? Oh, never mind. We'll deal with it later. Come with me.”

She turned and, with a final beckoning gesture, walked out of the room. Seeing little choice, Jack followed, still clutching her burning skin.