Accidentally On-Purpose Pt. 02

Cal was standing at the far end of the auction control counter. He was talking to Scotty, the chief paramedic at HCI, or more precisely listening intently as Scotty explained something to him, then the two exited through some double doors that led to the infirmary.

Michelle wasn't sure if she should try to follow them, then decided she wanted some answers. She gave them a few minutes, then nonchalantly went through the double doors herself.

A short way in she stopped at a corner and peeked around at the hallway full of doors to exam rooms. "Like something out of Scooby-Doo," she thought. "I wonder if Lena has a talking dog?" Michelle reflected another minute. "No, if she had one she'd have had it record the outgoing message on her voicemail already."

Michelle watched and waited (and imagined what that voicemail would sound like). Eventually Scotty stepped out of a room and held the door open for Cal, who was assisting a figure as she walked very slowly out of the room. The figure was no longer wearing a hood but was wearing a transit cape, had her blonde hair pinned up around her head, was red-faced and covered in sweat but there was no mistake: it was Sandy.

On second thought, Michelle decided, she'd get her answers on Monday.

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Michelle had missed the last two punishments completely, so she wandered around the milling crowd on the auction floor looking for Lena. No sign of her anywhere, so she texted her.

"backstage" she texted back.

"Backstage?" Michelle thought "What the heck is she doing back there?"

Michelle climbed the stairs onto the stage itself, walked across the freshly mopped floor and through the curtains at the back. It was her first time inside there: it looked like any backstage area, but with more restraints and torture devices.

Lena was in the center, as usual, talking animatedly to Maestro DiSantis, who was splitting his attention between her and Oswald, peeking his head out of Lena's sling so that the Maestro could scratch it.

Michelle walked over and stood next to Lena, looking slightly puzzled; Maestro was replying to Lena in Italian (Lena's parents had a house in Switzerland that she visited regularly, so she learned Italian... and French and German, and probably Romansh too, the polyglot slut) when Lena interrupted him: "Maestro, this is my best friend Michelle. She works here, can you believe it? Michelle, this is Signore Antonio DiSantis, from Turin — one of my favorite cities in the world, I keep telling you we must go there together sometime — and we were just talking about how he got into this business. Signore, would you mind telling Michelle about where you started?"

"Certainly my dear" he said with a thick accent, smiling at them both. "I started in entertainment, as you may have guessed: I was apprenticed as a lion tamer in the Circo Torino, eh, the circus, si? After Italy left the EU and adopted slavery, I joined a new touring company that used schiava, eh, slaves as performers and took what I knew about training animals to training women. I also taught and trained slaves at the famous Scuola Romano Schiavo in Rome before accepting a position in America. This is my first time in your lovely Texas!" He smiled, clearly taken by Lena's charm and enthusiasm (and large breasts).

"Isn't he amazing?" Lena said. "I'm trying to convince il signore to take me on as an apprentice. Maybe we could both be apprentices! Wouldn't that be fun?"

Michelle's eyes were as wide and her eyebrows arched, but then she looked back and forth between the two smiling faces. "Umm," she said, "that sounds really interesting!"

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At home that night in bed, Michelle thought about the day. She was having a lot of trouble sorting out her feelings and desires.

It's just that the atmosphere at HCI is such a weird combination of the run-of-the-mill world of work and an insanely sexually-charged series of encounters... Michelle sighed. She'd never been this confused before in her entire life.

The punishments (what she had seen) in general were interesting, but she wasn't aroused by the thought of being branded or whipped herself — quite on the contrary, she had been aroused by seeing the punishments inflicted. How did that square with her obvious interest in sexual slavery? The command position training was an incredible turn on, as was the thought of being taken by a strong and determined man (though she would need it be a Cal or a Jason rather than an Ed, of course). Did she really want to be a slave? Or did she (as Lena often suggested) "just need to get laid?" It's true that Michelle was a virgin, but then so were many — too many — women her age due to the severe gender imbalance.

For that matter, Michelle was also a lesbirgin; she'd never had sex with a woman, though that was ordinary enough that she could have easily had the experience if she'd wanted it: at the very least, Christie from her swim team made it pretty clear that she would like to pull Michelle's L-card. It was a perfectly understandable adaptation to society, Michelle thought, and she had nothing against it, she just wasn't ready at the time. And she still thought about the submissive women coming through HCI, and how it was kinda fun to tell them what to do and lead them around and do things to their naked, defenseless bodies. But there was something missing, and she wasn't sure what. Why can't this be as easy as a research project?

Huh, Michelle thought, maybe it could be.

She thought about the outlines of the project, and how it might work, turning it over in her head for a while before deciding to sleep on it and write it all up in the morning. If I can sleep, she thought, as insanely sexually frustrated as I am right now.

Mmmm, she reflected: I know he's older but that Scotty in the dispensary is a total silver fox. I wish it had been him in that cage instead of Ed. Oh yeah, with me on my knees in front of him, wearing nothing but a slave collar, calling him "Sir," begging to suck his cock, his big strong hands on top of my head... and down came her pajama bottoms.

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Monday came along as it inevitably did, and Michelle found herself in the HCI locker room getting ready for her shift. She was hoping to talk to Sandy right away before they started work, but there was no sign of her. Finally Michelle gave up and walked out to her station.

Michelle checked out her data pad and queried the SRN number that Sandy had used on Saturday (she remembered it — one of the advantages of having a near-eidetic memory). Nothing. No hits, but a little digging showed the number was unavailable for use: that implied it was part of a block of numbers reserved for testing or training, or that the number had been assigned and then unassigned. Michelle consulted the handbooks loaded on her phone: no, there was no way to "unassign" a Slave Registration Number, at least not at the point of sale like HCI, it would have to go through a government system. So the number was most likely from a reserve block.

Michelle quickly cleared the search from the data pad when she saw Ms. Steiner approaching her.

"Good morning, Miss Tran" she said. "Are you ready to demonstrate your mastery of the six basic command positions?"

"Yes ma'am" Michelle replied, "I am ready when you are."

" Collar " Ms. Steiner commanded, and without hesitation Michelle dropped to her knees, back straight, head bowed, one hand holding her ponytail out of the way, the other resting on her thigh.

Without a pause, Ms. Steiner commanded " Up " and Michelle sprang to her feet, looking straight ahead, feet shoulder-width apart, arms folded behind her back.

Ms. Steiner put her through two complete circuits, threw random commands at her in rapid-fire, then one last circuit where she had Michelle freeze on each position so she could observe it. Finally Ms. Steiner let out a "hmph" and told Michelle to halt her demonstration.

"Well done, Miss Tran" she said, looking Michelle square in the face. "I believe you followed my suggestion and had Miss Preston coach you."

I don't remember it being a suggestion, Michelle thought, but replied "Yes ma'am I did."

"I am pleased, Miss Tran: you were precise, and you did not hesitate" Ms. Steiner said. "For Thursday I want you to memorize all four basic auction commands and each of their alternates and additions, and be prepared to recite them, both in standard order and approved alternate order. Any questions?"

That's like twenty-something commands, Michelle thought, in a few variations; piece of cake. "Um, no ma'am" she replied. "Well, one question ma'am: have you seen Sa—Miss Preston this morning?"

Ms. Steiner gazed at her for a long moment; evaluating her perhaps? Then replied "Miss Preston is out today. You will be working your normal position but assisting Miss Wainwright from the Auction Operations department; she preceded Miss Preston in that position and has been given the opportunity to cover for her as there are no auctions today." She paused momentarily, studying Michelle again.

"I have spoken to the Human Resources department," she continued, "and you will take your prod certification class on Wednesday. You will pass your exam and be issued a prod the same day. Do you understand?'

"Yes ma'am, I understand" Michelle replied.

"Please carry on, Miss Tran."

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"Oh yeah, he is a total daddy," Kiara replied. "Last year? I saw him at the company picnic without his shirt, and let me tell you girl, that chest... And the muscles on his forearms? Don't get me started."

"Miss Wainwright" turned out to be Kiara, whom Michelle had already met and had lunch with since she started at HCI. They quickly began gossiping good-naturedly while getting the Intake section set up for the day.

"Wish I'd been there, especially once everyone started getting drunk." Michelle replied. "How about that slave catcher, Cal? I'd like to see him without his shirt, and his pants..."

Kiara shook her head. "You're barking up the wrong tree there."

"I know he's not into white chicks," Michelle said, "but I figure I might have a shot, not being white and all."

"You don't understand," Kiara chuckled. "It's not that he's not into white chicks, it's that he's not into chicks."

Michelle stopped what she was doing. "What do you mean?"

Kiara glanced at her and smiled before picking up a box of restraints. "Just what I said: Calvin is a beautiful man, but honey, he plays for the other team. Gay as can be. I love him to death, but he's the opposite of a poon hound." She stopped and considered for a moment. "Maybe that's why he's such a good slave catcher — his dick doesn't do his thinking."

"How do you know he's gay?" Michelle asked.

"I would know," Kiara answered, "because Calvin Wainwright is my big brother."