Free Human Commodity by Candace Smith

groaned.
    “Well, I tried to warn you when you told me to put the hammer down,” Phillip laughed.
    “Where are you headed?”
    “The Training Compound.   We have half a dozen US18s coming in around noon.”
    “Sounds like fun.   Let me see if I can light a fire under Floor Fifty-six to push some CL30s I’m trying to move, and I’ll meet you,” Mason answered.
    “Who the hell is going to buy a 30 year old Chilean?” Phillip queried.
    “Not my problem.   I just want them gone.   I’ve already replaced the contract attorney and commodity broker for sticking me with them in the first place.   I found out we’ve been sitting on them in training for over two years.   Two fuckin’ years, Phillip.   I mighta’ been able to dump them, when they were CL28s.”
     

 
    Chapter II
     
    “Mmmm… I love the end of May,” Mason murmured.   “The weather isn’t too hot yet, the market always gets a little bump, and Phillip contracts groups of recent US18 graduates.”
    It was 2023, and the firm had been thriving for almost six years.   May had become Epiphany Celebration month, mostly because Mason had few fires to put out in the commodity market, Phillip had stacks of signed contracts for parents trying to cash in on their daughters before their price went down, and Eddie was euphoric over examining endless pussies of nubile young women.   Even the trainers, who now numbered over fifty, were happy.   It was the original four who greeted new contracts, and dispersed them to appropriate new Masters.
    The group of four new contracts was led in, and the executives perused the third offering of young women.   One was a bleach blonde with a heart shaped sweet face; one was a plain looking brunette; the other two… the other two… were interesting.   One was tall with sharp features under shoulder length brown hair, and the other was also tall… five-eight, maybe… with spiky black hair and dangerously applied seductive makeup.   “She’s eighteen ?” Mason asked.
    “Verified through records,” Phillip assured him.   “Her graduation picture doesn’t do her justice,” he chuckled.   Phillip was fascinated with the woman.   She had a confidence that was not overpowering, but she was definitely a force to be reckoned with.
    The trainers ordered them to strip, and all the women looked predictably shocked and frightened… except Clarett Dumont, the girl with the spiked hair.   She calmly began unbuttoning her blouse and dropped it, leaving her braless firm breasts demanding attention.   Phillip’s eyes never left her.   While the girl’s fingers moved to her zipper, she said in a calm voice, “Masters, do you mind if I borrow one of those crops?”
    What the fuck?   Damon walked up to the girl and gripped her chin.   He looked into her eyes… and he saw the same sadistic aroused glow any good trainer possessed.   He smiled down at her.   “What do you have in mind, slut?   Want a go at a trainer first?”
    “ Oh no , Master.”   Clarett shook her head as she wriggled out of her tight jeans, exposing a bared bottom.
    Phillip was beside himself, and had not been this aroused since the first group of women were brought in front of him, years ago.   He watched the girl’s unwavering eyes while she spoke to Damon.
    “That ‘girl’ on the end is carrying a little extra baggage,” Clarett told Damon.   “I’m curious about why he’s here.”   Clarett could not believe her luck when she found herself thrown in the group with the transvestite.   She had not been sure how she was going to present her case to be a trainer… though she worked the submissive ropes equally well.   At eighteen, she had already spent three years at her father’s BDSM club, and she was as comfortable with SHCI and the trainers as she had been in the bar.
    Damon’s eyes snapped to the worried tall ‘girl’ on the end, and he narrowed his eyes on the bump on his throat.   He stormed down and grabbed