Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. <!--ADULTSONLY--> Disclaimer update September 2019 Disclaimer stuff: This story and all the stories I write are a work of fiction. Each and every story line comes from my imagination, from a world that I have built in my head. By reading my story lines you are taking a peek into my imagination. Any characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are entirely fictional and are a product of my imagination. None of the following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental. There is no place called Cherish Valley in the United States that I am aware of. Every story I write contains sexual situations between adult females and young girls and boys between 5 and 16 years old. These stories should not be read by anyone who is either not old enough to do so or who would be offended if they did. Most if not all of the stories I write contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors under the age of 18 or close-minded people. I write stories for my own enjoyment. I write stories in which adult women are degraded, humiliated, and fucked by young girls and boys, although I have changed things up a bit recently with a couple stories that aren -(TM)t exclusively lesbian in nature. Bottom line is I write stories for my own enjoyment. At this time I am editing my own stories. Please forgive me if there are spelling errors or grammar errors. I try and catch the errors by reading and re-reading the story several times. Anyone who is an adult or age of majority, of course, is welcome to continue. I have several stories on Storiesonline.net and readers have contacted me there. If you send me a message from Storiesonline.net it will send an email notice to my email. The anonymous message feature on Storiesonline.net protects your email address and my email address. I hope you enjoy the story. Delores Throckmorten 4: Glancing at her smart phone, eleven 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 -(TM)s Patriarchy ceiling, so she'd been told, and this week Brenda -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s director. Miss Mitchell was the lead negotiator of AZ Porn -(TM)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 nine year-old -(TM)s, one classroom of 30 ten year-old girls, and a classroom of 30 fourteen year-old -(TM)s 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 -(TM)s and daughter -(TM)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 -(TM)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 of any age 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s. She had had little time or inclination to consider a feminine relationship since her classroom was purchased last year 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 young 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. The 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 -(TM)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, -(TM) 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 Miss Mitchell. 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s. The woman -(TM)s hair was in a bun. -Hi, there, what -(TM)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 West End Hotel -(TM). The name tag a picture of her anus with the name, Carol. -Brenda. - Brenda replied pointing her name tag. -I -(TM)m Carol, I -(TM)m available for purchase if want to have some fun. - Carol was still smiling. -I -(TM)m tempted, but I -(TM)m waiting for a friend, - Brenda smiled back. -Well, I -(TM)m available for you and your friend. - -I -(TM)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. -(TM) Brenda -(TM)s stomach tingled at the thought. -I -(TM)m fifty percent off, - Carol said hopefully. Brenda could almost smell the woman -(TM)s desperation. The hotel management probably told her if her sales didn -(TM)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 young girls. -We -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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. - 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)t show. The eleven 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. -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 little 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s cut corners on their female product, but not FQA, as you know we are a trusted name in female flesh. - Brenda smiled. -That -(TM)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. -11. - -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 -(TM)t like jealousy. How about you? Dating? - Brenda blushed. -No, and I haven -(TM)t looked or tried very hard, been busy with work. - -Aren -(TM)t we all? So how long have you worked for AZ? - -I was purchased last year, before our age 10 exams. You? When were you purchased? - -Fifteen years ago. - -You seem pretty smart to me, why did the company 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s what you mean. - Miss Ward looked at Brenda and she blushed. -I -(TM)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 -(TM)ve dated little 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 -(TM)ve been traveling for work. - She smiled at Brenda. Brenda -(TM)s heart flutter and her stomach continued to tingle and thought to herself, -~Miss Ward certainly knows how to flirt. -(TM) 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s smile was both subtle and coy. -Good sex has been the second most intense experience I've had in my life, -(TM) 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 eleven 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 -(TM)ve never felt more alive than when I am humiliated, that -(TM)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 -(TM)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 in those days that 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 my father could be. - Miss Ward took another sip of her sprite. -I started learning how to suck a cock at age 5, 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 I was ten 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 -(TM)d cum directly into my stomach. - Miss Ward looked at Brenda for a reaction. -My mother couldn -(TM)t deep throat him like I could. No matter how hard she worked on her gag reflex, she just couldn -(TM)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. Up until the age of 11, before 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 -(TM)s attention. -If father had the school leadership over, mother and I would wear stiletto -(TM)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 -(TM)s face. His friends would laugh and make crude jokes as we debased ourselves for their enjoyment. That -(TM)s when I realized that I enjoyed humiliation, I got a -~high -(TM) from it. - Miss Ward looked at the dancers and back to Brenda. -When I was eight or so, I started kissing and licking mother -(TM)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 preferred 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 -(TM)s why he sold me, to get rid me and rebellious nature. - -Anyway, after father broke my hymen at fourteen, I replaced my mother in her marital. 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 -(TM)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 -(TM)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 -(TM)s heart fluttered and she had a tingling sensation between her legs. -Why not? Any other punishment would have been too soft. - Miss Ward sipped her drink and continued, -It wasn't the bruises on my breasts or back, or the two black eyes or even the busted lip that made it so dreadful. It was the formality, the ritual of sorts. I had to report to the gym at the school and after a period of standing facing the mirror, my nose touching it, a crowd of boys watching, stroking their cocks, father strode into the gym. One of the older boys removed the punching bag and waited for me to put my wrists above my head so he could secure them to the hook. The humiliation was all the greater, given my own image of self importance as a fifteen year-old. Young boys watching me, every one of them stroking their cocks. - -I can well imagine that, - Brenda responded. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. In the subdued light of the playroom Miss Ward -(TM)s face looked softly radiant, her green eyes glowing with reminiscence. For a moment she looked no older than 15, her auburn hair shining. -Perhaps the worst part was walking around the neighborhood, seeing my friends, being shown off to the leadership of the school, - Cynthia was saying. -It made the beating all the more effective. - -It's still hard to imagine, - said Brenda, swallowing hard, although her mind was vividly creating just such an image. -Also, - Miss Ward -(TM)s honeyed voice purred on, -when father punched me in the stomach, he expected a contrite attitude. Mother and I always addressed him as "Sir" when being disciplined or reprimanded. I thanked him for every punch, it was twelve punches, pure agony. But I endured it and life went on as before. I assure you it was dreadful then; but now, almost 24 years later, the event still comes back to me with a poignancy I cannot ignore. - Miss Ward paused. -I was sold shortly after that with other females the school owned. Before the start of the school year my father would off the stock of female flesh and purchase new females. He liked to keep things fresh every year and this was his opportunity to get rid of me. Anyway, father and mother died in a car accident several years later. The school attorney -(TM)s tracked me down because his Will stipulated that I was to receive everything, the money, the vacation compound on the coast and there was nothing the Patriarchy or school could do about it. - Miss Ward sipped her drink looking directly at Brenda. -I expect this makes little sense to you? - Brenda took another sip of coke and returned Cynthia's gaze. Frankly, it made a lot of sense. This dynamic woman -(TM)s extraordinary admission of humiliation and abuse, though the excitement which was rising in her seemed more intoxicating than the spirit itself. -Why not just leave the Patriarchy behind and live behind the walled vacation house? - -I thought about it. I could easily buy myself from the company I worked for but I needed the humiliation of the business world. Sure I could purchase women and girls on the black market to live at the compound and have them humiliate me, but it wouldn -(TM)t be the same. - -Why me, and why now?' Brenda replied carefully, setting down her glass. -I somehow get the impression you don't tell this story on a daily basis to every girl you meet. - -Little girls aren -(TM)t impressed by my upbringing, they just want to fuck me, wham, bam, no thank you ma -(TM)am. Anyway, I have told my story several times to girls but none of them were, um, impressed by it. - She sat forward, her breasts straining against the blouse. -So tell me about you? Are you a natural baby or a government baby? - A government baby was born to a female, either a girl who had her first blood or an adult woman, who had been convicted of not supporting or showing enthusiasm for the Patriarchy. It was well known that women and girls would report each other to the Patriarchy authorities. During annual female purges the female thought police rounded up the women and girls on their lists. Trials were swift and depending on the needs of the Patriarchy. Women and girls would be sent to re-education centers and would be sent home after successfully completing program, or sold into the services industry, never to see their families again, or taken for breeders, popping out three girls to one boy. They would be in the breeding program for 6 years 8 months, birthing 6 girls and 2 boys every nine months with a month of rest. When there was a group of 30 baby girls, they would be bundled as non-performing assets and sold on the commodities market. The government would recoup the cost of impregnating the women and girls, plus the costs of housing, feeding and clothing them. The boys would be put for adoption. There were corporations that specialized in educating, feeding, housing and clothing the girls. Education Corporations, like FQA, bought women from auction and assigned them to be the girls teacher from age five to fourteen. At times, if the corporations needed cash, they would sell a classroom or two of girls and their teachers on the open market under investment grade performing assets, M or Q depending on the age of the class. Brenda cleared her throat and looked at Miss Ward. -I am a government baby. My first recollection was about five years-old in a room with lots of bunks. It was crowded as I remember. We started school like every other girl at the age of six. We were assigned a teacher, Miss Jenkins, who would be with us until we graduated, if we made it that far, which obviously I didn -(TM)t. I think Miss Jenkins was in her forty -(TM)s which was old to us. It wasn -(TM)t long before she was renting us out for sex with a local company. We were used as party favors, jumping out of large cakes at parties, or as cock warmers during cocktail parties. Even though we couldn -(TM)t be penetrated, we could suck cock, suck their anus and use our ass crack or pubis to rub and down on a cock, I got pretty good at it too. I imagine Miss Jenkins made some pretty good money but by the next summer she was picked up the thought police. - Brenda took a sip of her coke and looked over at Carol at the bar. She was standing next to the stool humping the teen boy -(TM)s leg. She had a look of desperation as he had her left tit out and was squeezing it. The boy said something to his friend who laughed and so did Carol. The boy slapped her face but she didn -(TM)t miss beat on his leg. -Mrs Grey was assigned to us, or that -(TM)s what we called her, I think she was fifty or so. Don -(TM)t know if she was married or not, but that -(TM)s what she wanted us to call her. In no time she also to took to renting us out in the evening after study time but was more discreet about it. She would rent us two or three at a time to college fraternities, local businesses, church groups. When I was eight, there was one instance at a church orgy, I got mad at Angela for stealing a cock I was sucking. Something popped inside of me and I beat her up pretty badly. - Brenda looked at Miss Ward. -The thing was I didn -(TM)t get in trouble for it and I didn -(TM)t feel badly about it, in fact, it gave me a high of sorts. From then on the church would rent me every weekend and have me beat up older women, like their wives or other women the church owned, either bare knuckled or with brass knuckles. I got pretty good at beating up women, how to make it an event, make it last for the entertainment of the church leadership. As long as there was no broken bones and the woman didn -(TM)t end up in the hospital, the church leadership didn -(TM)t care. - Miss Ward interrupted Brenda. -Were you certified or did this come naturally to you, I mean beating up women? - -It came naturally to me, something I that I felt I was born for. Mrs Grey and the church leadership didn -(TM)t want to draw attention to me getting certified so everything was off the books. - Miss Ward sipped her drink. -Were these women restrained or free range for you at these events? - -Some were restrained and others were free range depending on the husband or the desire of the church leadership. Free range was a lot more fun, more of a challenge. They would set up a large ring set up in their party room and the woman would try and get away from me but I would run her down. The beatings would last ten minutes at a time, it was a game to see if the woman could avoid getting beaten during that time. She would try and get away from my blows and kicks as the church leadership, sitting in the comfortable recliners having their cock sucked by the females of the church, laughed and sipped their whiskey. At times it was hard work but the tips were good. I hid the money away thinking that when I got enough I would runaway, somewhere, anywhere, but Mrs Grey found my stash and took it for herself. I thought about turning her in to the thought police but then I realized she would have told the thought police what I was doing for the church. So I dropped it. - -Did you send any of the women to the hospital or break their bones during these events? - Brenda smiled. -No, never did because I would get in massive trouble for that but I got really good at landing a punch or a kick for maximum bruising effect and that -(TM)s what the church leadership wanted. - -Does AZ know about your, um, particular gift? - -No, I haven -(TM)t found the right time to tell Miss Mitchell. - Miss Ward smiled and nodded her head. Brenda paused and looked around the lounge. -Last year, the education corporation that owned us put us up for sale, me, my classmates and Mrs Grey. You know when a company needs money they sell off some of their assets, and this time it was our classroom and several others. We were sold before our age 10 exams, you know the one where your future is determined based questions? I had dreams of working for the interrogation unit of the thought police. But my education was finished at the time of the sale. - Brenda looked up at the girl dancing on their table. -We were boxed up and shipped to AZ -(TM)s distribution warehouse. I was sent to corporate as Mrs Grey had indicated on my personnel file that I excelled at reading and writing, nothing was mentioned of my ability to mark women. I was assigned to Miss Mitchell -(TM)s purchasing team and here I am. - Miss Ward smiled and looked at Brenda. -So, you have something I desire. - Brenda blushed and her heart skipped a beat but she didn -(TM)t say anything. Miss Ward took a breath, then continued a little more quickly. -I have... how shall I put it? I have certain urges. A need of sorts, to re-explore, even relive, the past. Do you understand? - -I think so, - said Brenda as evenly as she could. -And a certain eleven year-old girl seems to fit into these, um, urges? - Miss Ward smiled, her green eyes shining. -A clever deduction! It simply fits! You're discreet, I'm sure of that and you wouldn -(TM)t turn me into the thought police. And so I've come to know you just well enough that think I can trust you. - -Thank you, - Brenda replied though her heart was thumping. -I too have a desire that I need to satisfy, to get a -~high -(TM) from. - Miss Ward -(TM)s phone buzzed and she looked at it. -Ah, company business. My leadership wants an update so I must run. - -So, eleven year-old Brenda, - Miss Ward pursued, moving astutely in as she had seen her do when firming a deal. -Are you adventurous little girl? Perhaps a bit theatrical? - She gathered her purse and looked at Brenda. -I can act, if that -(TM)s what you -(TM)re asking. - -Good. - Her smile had gone, she was all business again. Brenda noticed Miss Ward -(TM)s face was transfigured by an excitement she hadn't seen before. -Your flight back is on Friday, I think? So tomorrow you -(TM)ll be hanging around the hotel? Well, I know of a, how do I say, a discreet gym for females like us. - Brenda smiled, -~females like us -(TM) she thought. Yes Indeed. She squeezed her right hand into a fist. -We can meet in the lobby tomorrow at noon, and um, we can both have some fun. - Brenda smiled and leaned forward. -It -(TM)s a date Miss Ward. - -Good, - Miss Ward replied as she scooted out of the booth. -Noon it is. - With that Miss Ward stood up, bestowed a lingering look on Brenda, then walked from the lounge. Brenda watched her as she went, and very much liked what she saw. * * The next morning as Brenda got out of the shower, she looked at Carol who was tied face down to the four corners of the bed frame. The strap-on planted firmly in the woman -(TM)s anus. As Brenda dried her hair she turned the huge flat screen TV. The news was on. There was some protest out on the west coast, women who were getting -~uppity -(TM) with the Patriarchy. First time ever this had happened the female reporter on the scene explained. The camera team on the ground showed several hundred women protesting, marching down the street, carrying signs announcing equality. Suddenly around the corner came the thought police, girls dressed in all black, black helmets, visors, uniforms and jack boots, carrying batons. The protesters stopped. The neat rows of the thought police marched down the street towards the protesters. Suddenly they started running towards the protesters, there was yelling and screaming as the police broke upon the protesters, beating them, clubbing them. In their wake, were broken bodies of the protesters laying in the street. Dozens of women were injured and scores were arrested. Facial recognition would be used to identify the women who got away. Brenda shook her head at the news. She had laid awake most of the night trying to convince herself that the conversation over drinks had really occurred. She realized that her initial physical attraction earlier in the week to Miss Ward had already become something more. Miss Ward -(TM)s desire for a beating had excited Brenda. No matter what, she would share her 'sense of adventure' and seeing Miss Ward with bruises over her face and body would be more than enough reward for any that might happen afterward. Brenda untied Carol from the bed and pulled out the strap-on from the woman -(TM)s anus. In its place, Brenda stuffed a couple of tens into Carol -(TM)s anus as a tip. She had purchased Carol -(TM)s anus last night but what she really wanted to to mark this woman but the cost was too high and Miss Mitchell would have fit when she looked at the expense account. Fucking an anus was the safer bet. Brenda -(TM)s phone buzzed, it was Miss Ward. For a moment her heart sank looking at the text. Change of plans, Miss Ward would meet her at the gym. She texted the address to the gym. The gym wasn -(TM)t too far from the hotel. She was to tell the bouncer that she was a guest of Miss Ward. Brenda made her way to the entrance of the gym, she was bubbling over with excitement. The business was down a nondescript side street and was a called -The Gym -. Brenda knocked on the front door and a small window opened. An older woman stared back at her. -I am a guest of Miss Ward. - The window closed and heavy door opened. -Down the hallway, first left to check-in. - The elderly lady at the check-in counter said, -Put your phone in the box mark 10, sign this Non-Disclosure and remember, what you see here, stays here. No breaking of skin, no broken bones, and no hospitalizations, if you do, you will be reported to the thought police. - The elderly woman paused. Brenda thought the woman must be in her sixties at least. The woman continued. -I see you have own gym bag, you can change in the locker room down the hall. Miss Ward will be waiting for you in room 5. - Brenda nodded her head and walked to the locker room. Inside the locker room were girls, girls younger than her and girls older than her. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of some girls removing their thought police uniforms and neatly hanging them in the locker. They were talking excitedly about the protest on the west coast. How envious they were of their of the counterparts beating up the protesters and swinging their batons in anger. Brenda changed into her workout clothes and walked out the door, looking at the signs she followed the arrow to room 5. Walking past room 4 Brenda stopped for a moment. Inside were a dozen women secured to posts with eye coverings on. Around them were twelve girls around Brenda -(TM)s age and a female instructor. -Okay, girls, again stand with your feet at shoulder width, crouch a little, fists up and when ready lay into your target. - The girls took the proper stance close to the woman in front of them and then started punching, left, right, two lefts then a right. The women whimpered. It was exciting to watch because the target didn -(TM)t know when she would be hit. Brenda walked a little further and stood at the entry of room 5. Suspended from the ceiling were large punching bags, very large punching bags. Several girls were kicking and punching the bag in front of them. Every now and then she could see something move inside the bag and that excited her. A woman came up next to Brenda. -Who are you a guest of? - -Miss Ward. - Brenda couldn -(TM)t take her eyes off the girls punching and kicking their bag. They were talking between punches and kicks, laughing sometimes, but always working the bag. The woman looked at her tablet. -The pink bag over there. - She pointed. -Miss Ward paid for thirty minutes. - -Thanks! - The woman looked at Brenda. -You -(TM)re first time here? - Brenda blushed. -Yes, does it show? - The woman ignored the comment. -To be of value to woman you are marking, the beating must be thorough. Any reluctance on your part to be vigorous with your fists will only disappoint. Thus, do not stint in your full use of your strength. If you hear the target say 'carrots', as a code word of sorts, you should let up. But for most women that is highly unlikely they will say word. They don -(TM)t want to be seen as weak in front of the young girls. - Brenda watched at the other girls on the floor working their punching bags. The woman continued. -Women like Miss Ward pay for the experience of a beating, for a female that is rare. The other women here were bought at auction. Not only are they used as targets, but as comfort women for the girls after their workout. Life is hard here for the women. - -How long have you been here? - Brenda asked. -Fifteen years. I too started out as a target but have managed to work my way up to floor warden. I don -(TM)t get beat up as often. - Brenda walked up to the bag and pushed it, the bag swung back and forth. Suddenly a sense of power flowed into her, bracing her back and squaring her stance, Brenda raised her fists. She briefly paused to wonder what was going through Miss Ward -(TM)s mind at that moment and became aware of the tiny keening noises she was making deep in her throat, the sole manifestation of her extreme excitement and apprehension. -In case you -(TM)re wondering, the woman is kneeling inside the bag with her wrists secured behind her back. There is a light above the bag that will turn red when your time is up. - the floor warden said as she walked away. Could she really do it, Brenda wondered. Could she bring himself to inflict pain on a woman she found so sexy? The hesitation was brief, the answer was 'yes'. For the next ten minutes Brenda danced around the bag, working her form, remembering her the times at the church when she was younger. She had the bag raised so she could work her fists on Miss Ward -(TM)s body. Brenda could hear Miss Ward -(TM)s gasp, a whimper as she fiercely sucked in air after each punch. The bag gently swung back and forth. Brenda worked up a sweat. She stopped to take a drink and watch the other girls. Two younger girls, looking to be six or seven strolled onto floor. Two punching bags were hanging close to the floor. The girls started to kick and punch the bags. Brenda warmed to her role. Repositioning her feet in a firmer stance, she lifted her fists aimed for what she thought were Miss Ward -(TM)s breasts. Her aim was accurate. Miss Ward -(TM)s gasp was louder this time as Brenda -(TM)s left fist impacted with an authoritative -~SMACK -(TM) on the leather bag. Perhaps that was the key, thought Brenda. Miss Ward wanted to be tested to the limit, to prove to herself that she could endure a vigorous physical beating. Anything less than a true beating, therefore, would have no meaning for her. It was to be the real thing, or nothing. So Brenda squared up her stance and landed a one two combination on Miss Ward -(TM)s breasts. For the next ten minutes Brenda took on her task with even greater firmness of purpose, applying her fists with unflinching force and steadily increasing skill. Her pace was deliberate and measured. Miss Ward -(TM)s whimpering and panting gasps reflected an accumulation of pain as she writhed inside the punching bag. Miss Ward was indeed being tested. Brenda strode around the punching bag, watching Miss Ward squirm in the bag. Had this gone too far? No, she decided, that must be Miss Ward -(TM)s decision. Returning to her position, Brenda delivered two more crisp strokes, delivered with judicious severity, smacked against Miss Ward -(TM)s stomach eliciting urgent grunts from Miss Ward -(TM)s throat. Brenda paused to watch Miss Ward -(TM)s shaking body move the bag back and forth, she wondered if she herself could have taken what she was inflicting. Her respect for this woman, already high, had increased with the stinging hurt of each succeeding punch. She was aware that Miss Ward could end this at any moment, but knew that she would not. The red light on top of the bag lit up. The session was over. Brenda leaned into the bag and whispered. -One more punch, Miss Ward. - Miss Ward replied with a shaky voice, -Make it a good one. - The event had affected Brenda even more than she had anticipated. When Miss Ward was removed form the bag, Brenda sucked in her breath, the woman -(TM)s body was truly stunning, and a part of her had hated causing her such evident pain and bruising. Miss Ward had a bloody nose, two black eyes, bruising on her breasts, stomach and back. Yet, Brenda realized, Miss Ward was right, there had been such a compulsion, an intensity, almost a beauty to the entire proceedings. Miss Ward -(TM)s fortitude had amazed her. And she knew that she had succeeded in fulfilling the role the woman had set for her. But what was next, Brenda wondered. How was it all going to end? Indeed, was it already finished? Would she be allowed to do this again? Brenda picked up a bottle with the faded label and poured cream into her hand. Then she rubbed the soothing coolness slowly onto the bruises. Even though the softest touch of her fingers on the marks brought a wince, Miss Ward -(TM)s sighs and moans and little wriggles made it clear that her efforts at comforting were every bit as good as her new-found skill in administering a beating. Miss Ward lay naked in on the bed in a recovery room. Brenda sat on the edge of the bed rubbing cream into her swollen body. She wanted to know so much more about Miss Ward. The woman had given her a peek into her complex and private world, but she knew that it was not yet the right moment to question her more deeply. Even so, her practical curiosity remained. -How long will these beautiful bruises last? - Brenda asked as she gently ran her fingers over Miss Ward -(TM)s breasts. -It looks to me like it could be ages. - Miss Ward grimaced prettily, picked up a hand-mirror from her bedside table and looked at her reflection. -You didn't disappoint me, - she remarked with satisfaction. -Judging from some of the bruises on my face, I'd say a week or so, the black eyes, maybe several weeks. - She turned towards her, and her smile now had an impish quality. -That ought to time out just about right for our return to the gym. - Her green eyes glittered. Her lips pursed sulkily, hungrily. -Oughtn't it? - she murmured. Brenda was taken fully by surprise, her heart rate went up and she felt moist between her thighs. But before she could consider an appropriate response, Miss Ward -(TM)s arms were around her and she found herself being drawn down on to the bed beside her in an embrace of such wonderful warmth that she pulled back her head and gazed at her in astonishment, still not quite sure. Miss Ward smiled again. -Oh, come now, you -(TM)re eleven years-old, - she breathed. -Do I have to spell out everything for you? - Brenda laughed to herself as she reached over to turn out the light. The next morning at the hotel Miss Mitchell and her female team walked into the conference room. Brenda sat along the edge of the wall with her tablet ready. In walked Miss Ward and her team. Miss Mitchell gave Miss Ward a long stare and shook her head. Miss Ward sat down and briefly glanced at Brenda. Miss Ward had two puffy black eyes. She acted like nothing special had happened and Brenda smiled to herself. She couldn -(TM)t wait until next month.