There was supposed to be a six month waiting list for new customers but i was told there was an opening if i got make it in two days time, so i jumped at it. Two days later i was sitting in the waiting room feeling horny, thinking of the doctor who would be staring and touching my body.I was called into the operation room told to strip naked and get on the table.

" The doctor is running late but  she should be here soon" Said the receptionist. She? i thought  i don't want a woman looking at my wonderfful body. I want to get a person horny with my body not jealous, but im getting my boobs so i don't care. I took my clothes off and got on the table, it was freezing my nipples stiffened straight away i grabbed my boobs and my hand moved in between my legs. I was fingering my pussy so fast knowing that any second the doc could walk in, i was so horny and started to cum iwas riding against my fingers feeling so good when the door opened and in walked the doctor catching me masturbate i was so embarest i felt that her eyes delighted in watching me orgasm. When i regained my posture she asked if i was ready and i gave a quick and sharp " Yes of course" and about twenty minutes later i was given enough drugs and felt myself fall into unconsiousness.

 I woke up after what seemed like the longest sleep ever. I was wearing one of those hospital gowns that are open at the back, I held one of my new boobs in my hand and it felt perfect, i grabbed the other breast and it felt the same i slide the gown off my shoulders and stared. They were wonderful they looked and felt so real there wasn't any scaring, in fact you could look as close as you could and there wouldn't be any sign of a boob job. I just could leave my new boobs alone, squeeing them rubbing them playing with my errect nipples it was making me so horny, i was really really hot and horny and i could feel my huge cock getting hard.

    I froze hands still all over my breasts. It must be the drugs they gave me, i cant't really be feeling what im feeling. I conviced myself to lower my hand and touch my pussy. My hand rubbed against the base of huge hard monster cock.

" oh no oh  no oh no" i repeated over and over. The gown dropped to the floor to expose my 12 inch wonder cock. Tears where rolling down my face as i sobbed like a child " My pussy my pussy what did they do?" my voice was so shocked that it was like a whisper " What the fuck happened to my pussy!!!" I screamed as i found my voice. The door opened and my doctor walked in.

" Those breasts look wonderful don't they Heather but that cock is most probaly the best work ive ever done."

" Why? I didn't ask for this." I whined.

" Yes honey you did. You've been asking for it for quite sometime now. Everybody knows you are a spoiled little bitch."

" But ive done nothing to you" I pleaded

" You where right all those years ago Heather, i was well still am gay but you made it sound so bad."

" What? oh my god Claire!" how did i miss her "look im sorry im so sorry but you cant do this to me." She stood  by my side let her hands brush my boobs as it moved down and grabbed hold of my new cock. I gasped with pleasure, it felt so good, she moved her hand back and forth.

" i can do this you don't have a say." She started to pump hard " Tell me that doesn't feel good, tell me and i will stop" I tried to tell her that i hated it but it felt so good my lips just wouldn't move. My new penis sprayed the floor with hot cum as i heard myself scream in delight and i dropped to my knee's. " Well you looked like you enjoyed that" She laughed.

" Please i'll do whatever you want just put me back." i begged i even held her leg as i pleaded.

"No, you deserve this"

" Fine if your not going to do it ill find someone who will" I stood up grabbing my clothes and put my hand on the door to leave.

" Nobody can baby they wouldn't know how, my methods are far to advanced for just any one to do." She let her scrubs slide off from her frame and just with the site of her naked body my cock stood errect again. " I did'nt know you liked women, i take that silence to mean yes." she laughed at me " Because you look so sad and pathetic i will make you a deal."

" Yes yes anything i'll do anything" I grabbed her arm  " what evr you say"

" I want you to fuck me"  she said taking my errection in her hand. " And if you can tell me with all honesty that it wasn't the besy ever then i will take my work back from you but if you can't then you stay attached to my work of art."

" yes ok " i said with my head bowed humiliated knowing i had no choice. I was pushed back onto the table  as she climbed onto of me. I almost came straight away as her pussy lips rapped around my hard member. She rotated her hips around as she moved up and down, i whimpered as her hands grabbed my boobs and squeezed. " oh fuck yes" the words slipped out, i tried to think of as many unsexy things as i could to take mt mind away from the mind blowing fuck that Claire was giving me, it didn't work " fuck me yes"  i begged

" Your a dirty whore aren't you , a filthy dirty slut." her hand slapped against my boobs  as she moved to a higher tempo in her thrusting. " You're gonna cum for me, i want to hear you cum." and on her command i did.

" Yes yes please Claire fuck me please make me cum." i was screaming with such delight even though i was trying not to sound like i was enjoying it so much.

" Tell me" she said as she stopped in the middle of my orgasm." tell me how good it is."

" Its so good Claire it the best ever." oh no i didn't . She lifted herself off of me smiling and laughing to herself."Make me come please" i begged

" Finish yourself baby, you gonna have to get used to that thing now" She walked out of the room leaving me alone crying a river of tears as i started wanking my own cock.

" I want my pussy back" i sobbed as i came spraying my face and hair with my warm spunk, as i sat there soaking in my own cum i knew Claire had more in store for me.
 

            “The newest arrival, the last little blonde we got to show to the sheik, she’s freaking out and we can’t calm her down. Nothing anyone says seems to work. She won’t listen to any of us.”

            “Not even you?” he asked softly, a note of surprise in his voice.

            “No, nothing I’ve said to her seems to help. I got her to quiet down some but she won’t resign herself.”

            He let out a soft sigh as he rose from his seat. He strode quickly around the desk and motioned to Amy. She turned and headed out of the office ahead of him.

            “What’s her name?” he asked as he caught up to Amy and walked next to her.

            “Ren.”

            “Ren?”

            “Yeah. It’s short for Renita.”

            He nodded as they stopped in front of a heavy steel door. A few locks of his dark blonde hair fell across his forehead. He reached out and punched in a complex code on the keypad next to the door. When he finished, the keypad beeped and flashed a green light. He slid a plastic card into a reader connected to the keypad and pushed the door open.  As he stepped into a small room a blonde woman huddled in one corner tried in vain to cover her nude form, rattling the chains fastened to her arms and legs as she did so.

            Michael stepped forward and knelt next to the young woman while Amy stood just inside the closed door. The woman stared up at him in silence, her lips trembling and tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks. Her legs were drawn up so her knees were in front of her ample chest, her chained ankles pulled apart, displaying her bare pussy. Her wrists were chained above her head.

            “Please…” she whispered as Michael knelt in front of her. “There’s been some mistake…”

            “Ren, there’s no mistake. You’re here for a purpose.” Michael’s voice was soft but firm. “You can either cooperate or not, that’s your choice.”

            “No! This isn’t happening!” She pulled on the chains as she screamed out her defiance.

            Michael reached out and clasped her face firmly in his right hand, forcing her to face him.

            “Ren, listen to me.” He stared at her in silence, waiting for her to calm. “You’re here now, you’re my property. I own you now.”

            “Please…” she whimpered.

            “I have a customer coming very shortly who’s extremely interested in women like you. He pays very well for them.”

            “No…”

            “You’ll be part of the group he examines. This particular customer doesn’t like our drugs so you’ll have to manage on your own.”

            “God, no, please…”

            Her tears started again and her whole body shook with her sobs. Michael sighed as he stared down at her. Shaking his head he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small key ring. He released her hands from the bracket that held them to the wall above her head and carefully lowered them, holding them in his own.

            “Ren, you need to calm down. Upsetting yourself like this isn’t good for anyone.” His voice was even softer than before as he gently caressed her hands.

            “I – I c-can’t do th-this, p-p-please…” she begged, her body shaking violently.

            Michael dropped his head, his chin pressing against his chest. He let out a frustrated sigh before turning his head to look over his shoulder at Amy.

            “Who else do we have?” he finally asked.

            “No more blondes,” she replied. “There’s another redhead, brown eyes.”

            “Use her,” he stated flatly. “See to it that she’s ready.”

            “Yes sir.” Amy turned and left the room to carry out his instructions.

            Michael turned back to the distraught woman in front of him.

            “It’s okay, Ren. You won’t have to go today,” he said softly.

            She curled in on herself in front of him, sobbing with relief. He reached out to gently caress her hair as he whispered soft, soothing words to her. He stared at her huddled form as his right hand played through her hair. He sighed again then reached down to clasp her chin and lift her face to stare up at him.

            “Ren,” he started softly.

            “Please, can I go home now?” she whispered.

            Her green eyes were full of tears as she stared at him, her bottom lip trembling. He noticed the freckles rambling across her nose for the first time. She had wrapped her arms around herself, her hands clutched at her arms.

            “This is your home now. At least until you’re sold,” Michael stated softly as he started to rise.

            He wasn’t prepared for her desperation. She lunged forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, hanging on with fierce determination. She sobbed as she pled with him, clutching at his shirt.

            “Please, I promise I won’t tell anyone. I just want to go home. Please let me go. I won’t tell, I promise. Please.”

            His hands closed around her tiny wrists in an iron grip as his deep brown eyes bore into her green ones. His voice was soft but held a commanding note.

            “Renita, calm down and let go.”

            She released her hold on his shirt and shrank away from him.

            “Please…” she whispered.

            He felt her body shaking and noticed how red and puffy her eyes and face were. This will never do, he thought.

            “Ren, calm down and relax. I’ll send someone for you in a few minutes.”

            She backed against the wall her feet were still chained to and wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head.

            “No,” she whispered. “Please…”

            A look of terror filled her eyes as she started to sob again. Michael stepped forward and folded her into his arms.

            “It’s alright, Ren. I’ll have someone come and get you in a few minutes. They’ll take you to my apartments for now. Alright?”

            She slowly nodded, still sniffling. He pushed against her shoulders gently until she bent her knees and moved to a sitting position on the floor. He knelt in front of her again, his hands running up and down her bare arms.

            “I’ll send someone in to take care of you in a few minutes. They’ll give you something to calm you, okay?”

            “I don’t do drugs,” she whispered.

            “It’s just to calm your nerves and help you rest,” he said in a voice meant to reassure her. “It’s not addictive. I promise.”

            He stared into her eyes and she slowly nodded.

            “Okay,” she whispered.

            When he started to pull away and stand up she clutched at his hands.

            “I’ll be back in a minute.”

            He pulled away from her and walked to the door. When he stepped outside the room he saw a short, squat man with dark dishwater blond hair walking down the hall. Michael pulled the door closed behind himself and started down the hall after the man.

            “Jake!” Michael called as he followed the shorter man.

            The other man spun around and stopped short as Michael approached.

            “Take Ren, the woman in room 215A7,” he motioned toward the room he had just come from, “to my suite and give her a sedative. Give her a shirt or something too.”

            “Yes sir.”

            Jake immediately changed direction and followed Michael back into the room Ren was confined in. She looked up with frightened eyes when the two men entered her room.

            “Ren,” Michael spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “This is Jake. He’ll take you to my rooms and take care of you.”

            “No…” she whispered as Jake started forward toward her.

            “He won’t hurt you, Ren,” Michael said, trying to calm her. He put his hand on Jake’s broad shoulder, drawing the other man’s attention. “Be easy with her.”

            “Yes sir.”

            Michael turned and left the room, leaving Jake to his assigned task.

 

            “Sheik Khaleed,” Michael said as he bowed to the older man. He offered his hand with a smile when he rose. “Welcome.”

            “Thank you, Michael. I’m most anxious to see what you have for me to choose from today.”

            “We have six women for you to look at,” Michael replied. “There are three blondes, two with blue eyes and one with brown eyes; two redheads, one with green eyes and one with brown eyes; and a brunette with green eyes.”

            “I have plenty of brunettes in my own country. Why do you offer me what I can get myself?”

            “This woman is special, Sheik. She has the face of an angel and a figure to match. Her eyes are an odd shape and a brilliant shade of green. Her hair is a light brown, not the dark color you are accustomed to. I wasn’t sure you’d be interested but I thought I’d let you have a look just in case.” Michael offered the other man a friendly smile as he led him down a long hallway.

            Amy met them at the end of the hall and opened a door for them. Sheik Khaleed stared blatantly at her as he walked past her into the small observation room. Michael followed him into the room and motioned him forward to the front row of seats. Both men sat down in the center of the front row of seats. Amy went to another door in the room and spoke with someone on the other side. She then moved to sit next to Michael. Within moments a parade of gagged and naked women was marched into the room, each led by a masked young man holding a chain attached to a collar at the woman’s throat.

The men led the women onto a small stage and attached the lead chains to hooks in the floor of the stage. They then released the women’s bound hands from behind their backs to be stretched over their heads and chained to hooks hanging from the low ceiling. Each man spread the women’s feet and chained their feet to hooks in the floor so the women’s legs were spread four feet apart. The men then stepped off the back of the stage area and stood silently behind the woman they had led into the room.

Michael watched in silence as the Sheik rose from his seat and made his way onto the stage. He stopped in front of the first woman and stared down into her pale face. He slowly ran his hands up her nude form, feeling her curves as he went. He let his hands roam over her large breasts as she struggled against her bonds, trying to move away from his touch. His thumbs slid over her nipples then were joined by fingers to twist and pinch the tiny protuberances. The woman danced and squirmed on her toes, squealing behind her gag. He slowly moved his left hand away from her tit, sliding it down to her pussy. He fingered her clit for a second then drove two fingers into her dry vagina. He smiled when she screamed against her gag and tried to pull away from him.

Slowly, he made his way down the line of bound women. He stopped to play with each woman, taunting them. Finally, he nodded and turned back toward Michael. He smiled broadly then turned and stepped down the steps and off the stage. He returned to his seat next to Michael and stared at the women for several minutes. He turned sideways in his chair to look at Michael.

“I will take the redhead with the green eyes, the two blondes with blue eyes and the green-eyed blonde.”

Michael nodded once. “Very good. The same delivery as usual?”

“Yes. I will have the cash brought in to you as soon as our paperwork is finished.”

Michael nodded and turned to Amy.

“Please have the women ready for transfer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Amy immediately got up and left the room. The men behind the stage quickly gathered their charges and escorted them out of the room.

 

Ren sat huddled in an oversized white button down shirt. She was curled up in a large armchair with her bare feet tucked under her and her wrists tied uncomfortably behind her back. She buried her face in the back of the chair and cried, waiting for the next awful thing to happen. When the suite door opened it startled her, causing her to jerk. She glanced nervously over her shoulder and saw the tall, handsome man who had said he owned her.

The man ignored her as he moved about the room, tossing keys onto a countertop and picking up a pile of mail. She studied him silently while he ignored her. He had light brown, what some would call dark blonde, hair and stood at least 6’ 3” she guessed. She had no idea how much he weighed but he looked fit and trim, muscles showed through the sleeves of his shirt. If she had met him at the bar she would probably have hit on him.

“It’s nice to see you’ve calmed down,” he said softly without looking up from his mail.

She blushed to think that he’d noticed her studying him. She turned her head and buried her face in the back of the chair again.

“So what am I going to do with you?” he asked.

She was afraid to look up again and she had no answer for him so she cowered in the chair. She heard him moving again and hoped he was leaving the suite or at least leaving the room. She jumped and gave a small squeal when she felt his hand on her ankle. Turning her head slightly so she could look over her shoulder she discovered him kneeling in front of the chair she was curled up in, his hand laying lightly on her ankle. God, he’s gorgeous, she thought to herself as he stared up at her.

Michael stared up at the frightened girl huddled in the large armchair. His hand on her ankle let him feel the trembles in her body. He knew she was curious even though she hadn’t said a word to him since he’d come in. She had stared at him covertly until she realized he was watching her then she’d turned away. He was confused and intrigued. He’d never had one like this before. They were usually either angry or frightened but he could always calm them and convince them to go along with him. This one was different, she wouldn’t let go of her fear. He would have to tread carefully until he figured things out.

“What would you suggest?” he asked softly, still staring up at her.

She didn’t say anything for several minutes. When she finally spoke it was in a soft whisper.

“P-please…let me go home.”

“What waits for you there?”

“W-what?” She looked at him with confusion in her blue eyes.

“You want to go home.” She slowly nodded at him. He asked, “Why? What’s there for you?”

Her mouth worked but no sound came out.

“It’s where I live,” she finally replied. “I have freedom there.”

He smiled when she raised her head in defiance.

“I can’t argue with freedom,” he replied with a shrug. “Were you happy?”

She turned away from him for several seconds. When she finally turned back he realized she looked different.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked softly.

He frowned at her and shook his head.

“Not if I don’t have to.”

He watched as she gulped air, trying to fight back a sob. She turned away from him and buried her face in the back of the chair again.

“Ren, I won’t hurt you if you don’t force my hand.”

“That’s comforting,” she mumbled into the chair back.

Michael rose to his feet and stepped around the chair. He dropped his hand to her head, letting his fingers play idly in her hair. She didn’t try to pull away from him but she didn’t respond in any way either. This one is definitely different, he thought. He moved back around to the front of the chair and knelt down. He slowly, methodically untied her hands. He felt her eyes on him the whole time he worked. As he worked the last of the ropes loose he introduced himself to her.

“My name is Michael. You’ll be staying in my apartments for the next few days. At least until I decide what to do with you.”

The ropes fell away and she started to pull her arms around her body. He grasped her wrists in hia hands and held them. She turned her head to look back at him. He slowly started rubbing his fingers over her wrists where the ropes had been tied tightest and felt her tense.

“The ropes can cut off circulation. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Then why tie me up in the first place?”

“It’s necessary to restrain you. Jake just forgets himself sometimes and ties them a little too tightly for my tastes.” He released her arms. “Feel better?”

“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Thank you.”

He rose to his feet and started toward a door. He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder at her.

“Are you hungry?”

Even though she shook her head no he could see a different answer in her eyes.

“How about something to drink?”

“C-could I have a glass of water?” she asked hesitantly, her voice soft.

“Sure. I’ll bring it to you in a minute.”

He disappeared through the door leaving her in silence. She thought about trying to escape but where would she run to? She didn’t even know where she was. The brute who’d brought her here had blindfolded her before marching her through the halls. She buried her face in the back of the chair and waited. Several minutes passed before he reappeared in the room.

“Here you are,” he said softly.

She turned to see him standing next to her holding out a glass of water with several ice cubes in it. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and his shirt was open at the collar. She reached out tentatively and accepted the glass he offered.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She slowly sipped the water as she watched him walk across the room and load a CD into the player on a shelf of the entertainment center. Soft classical music filled the room. The sound wasn’t loud but it seemed to fill the room just the same. He headed back toward the door he had left through before. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to her.

“If you need anything just give me a shout. I’ll give you a tour of the suite after dinner.”

He turned and stepped through the doorway disappearing from view again. She sipped her water and thought about her situation. What’s he planning? she wondered. He said he owned me. What does that mean? She leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her tired, sore eyes. She sipped her water as she let her thoughts wander. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. He said he owns me, she thought. And he said he’d have them take me to his apartments. Oh, God! she thought to herself, he wants sex!

His voice startled her out of her reveries.

“Ren, come with me.”

She turned her head and stared at him in horror. He studied her for a moment before realizing what she was thinking.

“I’ve made dinner. You need to eat.”

She tried to shrink into the chair and slowly shook her head. Michael lost his patience and strode forward. He reached down and grasped her arms just above the elbows. Without preamble he pulled her from the chair and set her on her feet.

“You need to eat,” he said again as he released his hold on her arms.

He grabbed her right wrist and pulled her forward. She tripped along behind him without much resistance. She was afraid of what he might do and, having felt the strength in his hands when he lifted her from the chair, she didn’t want to anger him further.

He led her through the doorway into a large dining room. The table was set for two and several dishes of hot food awaited them on the table. He released her wrist and pulled a chair out for her. She stood staring at him in silence. When he indicated the chair, she nervously sat down. He strode around the table and took the seat opposite her.

“I apologize for the simplicity but I was in a hurry.”

She glanced down at the table and noticed grilled chicken, baked potatoes, rolls and steamed broccoli. When he had asked earlier she really hadn’t thought she was hungry but the food looked and smelled wonderful.

“It looks good,” she softly, glancing up at him.

“Would you like wine?” he asked, offering to pour from a bottle.

“Okay,” she replied shyly with a shrug.

He carefully poured some into her glass then added some to his own glass. Setting the wine bottle aside he began dishing the meal out onto his plate. When he noticed she hadn’t moved, he frowned.

“Help yourself,” he offered.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she started dishing food onto her plate.

“You’re welcome.”

They ate their meal in relative silence. The only sounds were from their silverware clanking against their plates. When they finished eating he started clearing away the dishes. Ren got to her feet and started to help him. Michael turned a surprised look on her.

“You don’t have to –”

“I need to,” she said softly.

He nodded and led the way back to the kitchen where he stacked their dishes in a dishwasher. He tossed the left over food down a garbage disposal and put the dishes in the dishwasher as well. When they were finished he turned toward her and leaned against a cabinet, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ready for the grand tour?”

She mimicked his stance and crossed her arms over her body.

“I guess.”

He nodded then stepped forward, sweeping his right arm out away from his body.

“This is the kitchen. It’s fully stocked with everything you’ll need. If there’s something you don’t find that you want, let me know. The only thing I ask is that you clean up after yourself. I hate things messy.”

They started forward, back toward the dining room.

“Can I ask you something?” she inquired uncertainly.

He stopped and turned back to her, his arms at his sides.

“Of course.”

“What – what am I supposed to call you?” Her voice was soft, her question timid.

“Michael,” he replied with a shrug, staring at her.

She licked her lips nervously before saying softly, “I thought…”

He frowned as he nodded his understanding.

“I’m not into the whole master/slave thing. Michael is fine.”

He turned away from her and started toward the dining room again. She slowly trudged along behind him.

“You’ve already seen the dining room. We’ll take all of our meals here. It’s called the ‘dining room’ for a reason.”

He stared at her intently until she nodded. Then he turned and led her back into the living room where she had waited for him.

“You’ve also already seen the living room. Feel free to use any of the equipment. Please don’t mix up the CDs in the wrong cases though. It makes them hard to find later.”

She nodded again when he stared at her. He led her to another door and opened it, motioning inside.

“This is the half bath.”

He led her down a hallway and through another door.

“This will be your room.” He opened another door. “There’s a full bath here. Shower, tub, everything.”

He turned to see her trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” she whispered, shaking her head.

Michael strode toward her and clasped her upper arms in his hands.

“Ren, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at him and shook her head.

“Nothing.”

He sighed and released her only to run his left hand up and down her back.

“Let’s finish the tour,” he suggested.

She nodded agreement. He moved away from her and led her back to the hallway. A few steps down the hallway he led her into another room.

“This is the exercise room. You’re welcome to use any of the equipment here if you’d like.”

When she nodded he stepped through another door and she followed. He shut the door behind them and moved to another door as he spoke.

“This is my room. I’d prefer you didn’t come in here unless I invite you in.”

She nodded and they left through the door he stood by. He indicated a door at the end of the hallway next to his bedroom.

“That’s my office. Don’t ever go in there. The door is locked. Don’t bother it.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stared down at her for a moment then turned and headed back toward the living room.

“You’re free to move about these rooms as you want as long as you stay out of my office and my bedroom. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

They each took a seat, Ren in the chair she had occupied earlier and Michael on the sofa across from her.

“There will be people in and out of this suite daily. Someone comes in each day to clean. My mail is delivered each day. Don’t harass the people that come in and don’t ask them to let you out. And don’t go through my mail. Any questions?”

“Why can’t I leave the suite?”

He frowned at her.

“There’s no reason for you to be in the rest of the building. You don’t need to be roaming the halls.”

“You don’t want me to get out, get away,” she said softly.

“I don’t want you causing trouble.”

“When can I go home?”

“Ren, you no longer have a home –”

“Don’t say that!”

“You no longer have a home. You’ll stay here, with me, for now. Once I decide what to do with you, you’ll live with whoever buys you until they no longer want you. Then you’ll stay with whoever they sell you to.”

“How can you be so cruel?” she demanded, burying her face in her hands.

“It isn’t that bad,” he insisted. “At least you’ll be well looked after and taken care of.”

“You’re a bastard!”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“That one’s been used before too.”

She leaped to her feet, grabbing a small glass swan from the table sitting next to the chair. She raised her arm in preparation to throw the object at him. His fingers curled around her wrist as he towered over her. She stared up at him with frightened eyes.

“Don’t,” he said in a soft, menacing voice, “throw my things, especially when they’re breakable.”

He took the fragile figurine from her hand and replaced it on the table.

“Now, sit down,” he ordered.

She stared at him for a moment then slumped, defeated, into the chair. He stared down at her for a moment longer then resumed his seat.

“Any other questions about the rules?” he finally asked.

“What about clothes?” she asked softly.

“What?”

“What about my clothes? Can I at least have my clothes if you won’t let me go home?”

He narrowed his eyes and blew out a breath before he answered.

“You’re lucky you have that,” he replied, nodding at her.

“I knew it.” She got to her feet and started to pace. “You’re an oaf just like the rest of them. It isn’t fair.”

He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him.

“I’m tired of your prissy-ass attitude. Be happy I was nice enough to give you what you have.”

“This shitty shirt?” she shouted at him, plucking at the shirt she wore. “I want real clothes. This damn thing barely hides my butt.”

Without a word he reached out and grabbed the front of the shirt at the top and jerked down. Buttons flew off the shirt and bounced wildly around the room as Ren’s screamed reverberated around the walls. Michael yanked down on the material again forcing it down her arms roughly, pulling it off of her.

“Since you don’t like it I won’t force you to wear it.”

“Get away from me! God damn it! Get away from me! No! Get away from me!” she screamed as she backed away from him, tears streaming down her face, her arms thrust forward, flailing at him awkwardly. “Damn it! Not again! Get away from me! Damn it! Get away!”

Michael suddenly realized that she was panicked and started forward, toward her. She screamed, turned and fled from him.

“Ren!”

He ran after her, catching her in the hallway. He grabbed her right arm just below the elbow and jerked her around.

“Nooo!” she screamed as she fell to the floor.

Michael knelt in front of her without releasing his hold on her. He still gripped the ruined shirt in his other hand.

“Ren, what is it? What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, soothing.

“Please,” she whined, trembling on the floor in front of him. “Not again…”

“Not what again?” he asked. He kept his voice soft, calm and soothing. “What happened, Ren?”

“Please, just let me go. Please, God, please…”

“Ren,” Michael tried again as he used his strength to force her to sit up.

“Please, don’t touch me,” she cried. “Please, I can’t. Not again.”

“Ren, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” He gently covered her with the shirt he had ripped from her only moments before, slipping it over her shoulders and pulling it around her slim body. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

She pushed him away and sobbed softly as she fell over onto her side, curling up into a fetal position. Michael stared at her in disbelief. He cautiously changed his position so he was sitting on the floor next to her. He tenderly smoothed her hair away from her face and mumbled soft, soothing words. When she finally calmed and the tears seemed to have quit he pulled his hands away and studied her.

"Okay now?" he asked softly when he noticed her watching him through her lashes.

"Please, just let me go," she whispered.

"Ren, I won't hurt you," he insisted, not looking away from her. "But I can't release you either."

"Why?"

"You know too much about us."

"But I don't. I don't know anything. And what little I do, I won't tell. I promise, I won't tell a soul."

"I'm sorry, Ren," Michael replied softly, shaking his head. "You're going to have to stay. At least for now."

He got to his feet then knelt in front of her again, reaching his hand out to her.

"Let me help you up."

She ignored his offer and got to her feet on her own. She clutched the shirt around her, holding it tightly. He gave her a tight smile as he motioned down the hall.

"You've obviously had a long day. Why don't you turn in?"

"Where will you be?"

He could hear the suspicion in her voice.

"I have some work to finish. I'll be in my office for the next four hours if you need me. After that I'll be in bed."

She started down the hall then stopped and looked at him over her shoulder.

"Do I have a lock on my door?" she asked softly.

"No," he replied. "The only locks in this suite are on my office door and the front door."

She nodded as she turned away from him.

"Ren."

She stopped but she didn’t turn back.

"You're safe here. I won't hurt you and I won't attack you."

She nodded again then continued down the hall to the room he'd said earlier was hers. He sighed and headed for his office. There were a few calls he needed to make.

Michael closed the door and locked it then thought better of it and unlocked it. If she had an emergency he would need to get to her quickly. He sat down in the big leather desk chair and stared at the blank computer screen.

"First things first," he mumbled to himself.

He picked up the telephone receiver and dialed. Then he waited for an answer on the other end.

"Hel –"

"Who the hell did the recon and check on Renita Ajunti?" Michael demanded when the phone was answered.

"Carl, I believe, sir."

"Make sure then let me know. And follow up on it yourself. Do a deep check and call me back in the morning. If what I suspect is true, we have a problem."

"Yes, sir."

He hung up the phone and stared at the blank computer screen again. I could just do it myself and have the answers that much faster, he thought. Damn it. Just let them do their jobs, he told himself. Be patient. He forced himself to turn away from the computer and start flipping through the files Amy had left for him.

Me, Dec. 1th 1993 on Swedish TV1

Me, Björk Guðmundsdottír, 40 years old, admit to have been wrong all my life until now. I have been wrong about myself and womans in general. Although, my distinctive original style of music and singing made me famous and respected as a self-made woman, i now realize i made a mistake. I should not believe that a woman can be smart and independent. I should not believe either that i can continue to pretend being an exception, a special woman. Because, inside of me, all i see is just another talentless brainless bimbo pop tart who only want to demonstrate her inferior status by humiliating herself in public. 

Recently, my new husband have convinced me to submit to all his wishes and become his property for life and without a pause. He made me realize who i truly was. After the waking call of mature singers/songwriters like Jewel (31 years old) and Liz Phair (38 years old) who deliberately give up their independence they fought so hard to get, and happily destroyed their reputation of strong womans by following the example of embarrassingly younger teen idols, I, Björk Guðmundsdottír, decided to do the same in a really near future as I too deserve (and will enjoy so much) to be retrograded to the status of a sex object. Knowing what it is to be seen as an equal and even a superior creature, I, declare that i will not miss any of my old life.

Britney Spears have made it right as a woman and deserve to be respected much more than Liz Phair, Jewel and I. She's a real woman in the purest of the terms : a perfect airhead incapable of articulating anything other than a man would want out of her mouth, she's already build a reputation what I always dreamed of, but was incapable to accomplish so far in my life. My life might be twice more advanced than Britney's life, but I can only admit she's far superior woman. For now on, she will be my ultimate idol. In all her wonderful limitations, she remind constantly to womans in our world that they are nothing more than the property of a man.

About Jewel and Liz Phair, these two articles says it all in really humiliating terms for both ex-songwriters what their decision could only be a deliberate attempt to be retrograded to the status of a sex object. Listening to my husband idea of a perfect woman, reading this kind of articles, seeing Jewel and Phair around me, completely erase their strong personality (that took so many years to be accepted), just to fit the teen-pop tart image, really convinced me to follow the same bimboization process. I can't wait to show more skin and reduce my intelligence. I'm sure stop thinking will do me good and i will start to enjoy myself for the first time in my life. Oh! Gwen Stefani is in there too! It took her 36 years to discover she was nothing more than a bimbo doing Bubble Pop Electric ...Everybody is doing it isn't it ???

'Remember when Jewel was a preachy folk poet who wondered "who will sa-aa-aa-ve your soul"? She's been rah-rahed off the field by a perky cheerleader with a mesh shirt that doesn't cover her bellybutton. On her latest, 0304, Jewel regresses to the mentality of a high school student, her do-gooder sentimentality buried under mechanised beats and the Abba-esque group harmonies that are pop's favourite cliche.

"If you want me let me know/I promise I won't say no," she sings on Intuition, a tune that could have been an out-take from Spears's Oops! ... I Did It Again sessions. Jewel even resorts in the liner notes to instant-message glyphs ("Would U like 2 come along?") and brings aboard a producer named Lester Mendez, whose previous credits include work with the Spice Girls and Shakira.

All this is so shocking that 0304 comes with an explanation. "This record may seem different to you," she writes in the liners. "To me, it's close to what's been in my head for years." What, you thought she was mulling the Greenpeace agenda all this time? Nope. Britney is the soundtrack to Jewel's life.

Jewel isn't the only singer doing back-handsprings. Liz Phair took five years off from fame and emerged with a decidedly grit-free, sunny rock album. You'd think a single mum of 36 would have some grown-up things on her mind, but within a minute of the album opener, Extraordinary, Phair is offering to demonstrate her love-worthiness by jumping into a car and running stop signs in the buff. Four of the 14 tracks - including Extraordinary - were co-penned by the Matrix, a Los Angeles songwriting trio that writes three-minute pop songs to artists such as the Backstreet Boys and Lavigne. (Yes, it turns out she doesn't really write her songs, either.)

The Matrix excel at what they do, but they sell a formula that Phair's long-time fans would be surprised to learn she's buying. This is the woman who in 1993 released Exile in Guyville, a sexually blunt album intended as a song-for-song answer to the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street. Guyville is idiosyncratic and raunchy enough to seem like the work of just one febrile and highly original imagination. Not true of Phair's new album. It sounds a bit like Lavigne after five beers and a couple of heartbreaks.'

'It's a pattern so consistent you can view the history of pop as a non-stop bout for the upper hand, with producers, songwriters and impresarios in one corner and singer-songwriters in the other. The former have been in control for years now, at least on the female side.'

'To fans’ dismay, 36-year-old Liz Phair appears to be reinventing herself as a talentless “teen.”

(...)

Please, step to the front of the class and tell us, what in the world are you doing?

Sure, there are all those pop tarts out there (i.e. Britney Spears) selling music of dubious merit by looking trampy. But you women are talented. You're successful. Each of you has earned critical acclaim. Some of you already enjoy career longevity.

Do you no longer want the world to take you seriously as artists?

(...)

Jewel, who has sold nearly 25-million records with her clothes on, was never about glitz and sex. But, there she is on the cover of this month's Blender, looking like a S&M vixen. Jewel's new video, Intuition, a foray into bland dance pop, features the star having her shirt blown open, and being hosed down by firefighters.

Jewel explains to interviewers that until now she has "always held back" her sexuality. The singer told NBC's Today that she's excited to be "doing things I never thought I'd be doing," adding that the video is a commentary on "the commercialization of myself." Jewel says it was a breakthrough, showing off all that skin.

(...)

Liz Phair became the darling of the indie-rock world back in 1993 with her smart, groundbreaking, proto-feminist Exile in Guyville, considered one of the most influential underground albums of that decade. Phair's two follow-up albums garnered more critical praise.

But something with this year's Liz Phair CD went dreadfully wrong. Critics are having a field day dissecting the Identity Crisis of Liz Phair. A New York Times article this month called the 36-year-old singer to task for crafting an album of idiotic pop with The Matrix, the team of songwriters who wrote hits for teen popster Avril Lavigne, and, worse, for her new image. The article blasted "a woman approaching 40 getting dolled up in market-approved teen gear (the bad schoolgirl look, recently embraced by Britney Spears.)"

To her fans, the newly divorced Phair seems to have lost her mind. Fans loved her for singing frankly about love, lust and gender woes on Exile. Who knew a decade later she'd reinvent herself as a talentless "teen" star?

With the release of Love, Angel, Music, Baby, the Orange County rebel girl has completed her transformation into plastic pop diva from The O.C. Like the fictitious nighttime soap locale, this version of Gwen is hardly recognizable from the real thing. By real thing, I mean the ska-happy Gwen that made her name taking chances on a style of music that radio programmers were not exactly falling all over themselves to play back in the day. 

(...)

Gwen goes for broke in her quest for utter stupidity with "Bubble Pop Electric," a song so silly not even Britney Spears would record it. Although, it does sound like that was who Gwen was trying to rip off. 

I'm seeking some suggestions. I only have one goal in my life right now : transform myself into the dumbest and most sex obsessed pop star. I need to be the perfect brainless bimbo pop tart, mostly without a trace of intelligence and what we often call self-respect. Do you have any tricks for me ?? Buying myself fake boobs, wearing less and less clothes and appearing on petgirls.com is already in my plans! I'm also really good at giggling without any reason, giggles, giggles, like a retarded icelandic woman that can't learn english properly after years of practice. Yeah, i always was dumb as a senil goldfish. But how can i get rid of my originality ? Stupid music ideas for me ?

Being almost 40, i was thinking i could become a positive role model for lost young womans overrating themselves so much. Fortunately, with so many young womans growing up on heavily sexist reality show's and developing some many hyper-sexualization habits there's less and less of these and more and more bimbo's! Soon, womans will be slaves again!!