The autonomous car purred to a stop outside an austere-looking building. All grey, it was foreboding and uninviting, just as most ministry buildings were.
Jonathan looks up from his datapad, sees that the car has stopped and sighs. “I hope this doesn’t take long,” he mumbles as he tucks his workpad into the seat pocket. He gathers the last of his things and says “open”, causing the car to swing wide the door so that he may exit.
A tall, powerfully built man in the prime of his life, Jonathan runs a successful business, and he reminds himself that he has little time for fetching a new odalisque. He lost the last one, who happened to have been his favorite, to his friend Gregory in a game of chance, and now he needs a new girl.
He wasn’t expecting to be wowed, but he did hear that there was a new group of odalisques to be viewed, and his position allowed him access to the new group before the general public.
Owning odalisques, a historical term referring to women in a harem, was made popular after the last war, when everything, or nearly everything, became automated, thereby eliminating the working class. With no people left to serve as gardeners, cooks, and servants, those left in the working class sold themselves into service.
Over the years their duties became more refined, and both men and women odalisques evolved into personal playthings of those who could afford them.
Jonathan was one such person, and he had certain proclivities that caused him to wear out his odalisques faster than normal. In fact, it was well-known among his friends that if you let Jonathan use your odalisque, you might not get them back in quite the same condition.
Taking the concrete steps at the front of the building two at a time, Jonathan paused a second for the main door to swing open, and for the scan to register his ID.
The security door slid open, and Jonathan stepped into an austere front lobby, with a stern looking woman sitting behind a desk at the far end of the room.
She looked up as he approached, gazing at him from over the top of her old-fashioned glasses. “Jonathan Mayer”, he said, and she nodded and indicated he should pass down the hall behind her desk.
Jonathan’s mind was on an upcoming meeting when he stepped into the viewing chamber. It was an open space, and in a single line down the middle of the room, were the new odalisques. Arranged in order of skin tone and hair color, Jonathan gave the naked women a cursory glance before seeing the handler and walking over to him.
“Ahh Mr. Mayer, welcome, welcome. Are you ready to select a new odalisque? We have a lovely selection for you today. All fresh, newly trained, and ready for service. Should we start at this end?” He gestured to the dark-skinned beauty kneeling nearby, at the end of the line. Hair long and glossy black, her limbs were slim, breasts full, and long thighs gave her an elegant look as she knelt on the floor with legs folded under her.
Jonathan looked at each naked girl as he slowly moved down the line, uninspired. Beautiful, yes they were all beautiful. Breasts of all sizes, all shaved, and all immaculate. And all boring.
Halfway down the line of girls, Jonathan paused when he heard a cry come from a distance. He looked up, searching the handler’s face for a sign of where the cry came from.
“All these girls are trained to please you, however that may be.” The handler didn’t seem to notice the cry as Jonathan did. “They’re good girls, adaptable and easily trained to do any number of tasks.”
Looking down at his wrist to see the time stamp, Jonathan sighs. This is taking too long, he thinks to himself.
Another distant cry, this more of a scream, stopped him. This time he turned to the handler, and asks, “What is that? Who is making that noise?”
The handler dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Oh, we’ve had an odalisque come in for retraining. It’s nothing. Look at this fine specimen here.” He lifted the chin of a chestnut-haired beauty. “She’s perfection, don’t you think?”
Jonathan shrugged and moved to the next girl.
Another cry came from the other room and Jonathan turned to the handler. “Tell me more. About that one.” He pointed in the direction of the cries.
“Oh, surely you can’t be interested in such used material. Her owner died, but had been sick for some time and she was allowed certain freedoms and liberties, resulting in intolerable behaviors. Hence the need for reconditioning.” The handler smoothed down the front of his jacket, pondering how much more to say.
“I want to see it. I want to see the one you’re reconditioning.” Jonathan turned his piercing gaze to the handler.
Flustered now, the handler shrugged. “If you insist, but she’s hardly spectacular. Follow me.”
The girls were left to sit exposed and naked, kneeling in perfect submission, as Jonathan trailed the handler back down the length of the room. Opening a door at the end, they stepped through into a smaller room. Against the side wall, a woman was secured to the training board, a standard-issue multi-use vertical platform that can be used for punishment, pleasure, or just hanging plants. Her head hung down, face obscured by long, tangled hair. Dirty blond, or just dirty, Jonathan wasn’t sure. She was also plumper than most odalisques. Almost sensing this very thought, the handler interrupted Jonathan’s inspection. “She’s on a diet. She was allowed to eat whatever she wanted and has lost her sleek lines.”
Jonathan nodded and stepped closer. He could see the red welts on her legs and arms, arms which were extended above her head and secured to the training board. Her breasts were not overly large, but he didn’t mind the size.
“Make her look up. I want to see her face.” More intrigued by this imperfect specimen, Jonathan wanted to look at her face. But not to analyze her beauty, but to look into her eyes.
“Number 2780-24, look up,” demanded the handler. She didn’t move.
The handler nodded to the trainer who stood nearby. Jonathan hadn’t even noticed the trainer, so intent was he on the figure on the white board. The trainer lashed out with the sensory-whip, and Jonathan could see from the glowing red length that it was set to more than just stun.
It slapped against her naked skin and she thrashed, as much as she could, and she cried out “Fucking hell!” then sobbed a few times.
The handler gasped, looking quickly at Jonathan to see his reaction to the foul language.
Jonathan was staring intently at her now. He felt the blood start to rush through his veins. He reached out and forcibly lifted her chin. Tears had made clean tracks down a dusty face, but the look in her eyes was defiant. Proud. Strong.
His cock twitched to life in his pants. This one, he thinks to himself. This is the one I want.
Turning on his heel, Jonathan started to leave the room, the handler close behind. “I want that one. Have her delivered to my home just as she is. Do NOT clean her up. Do not clothe her. I want her there by 2 p.m.” I will train her myself, he says to himself, and not just a little turned on by the notion.
Perplexed, the handler only nodded.
Long, muscular legs carrying him out of the building, Jonathan forgot all about his afternoon meeting as he directed the car to take him directly home.
