by Ivy Barrett
Trained for Their Use
By
Ivy Barrett
Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Ivy Barrett
Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Ivy Barrett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Barrett, Ivy
Trained for Their Use
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by 123RF/improvisor and 123RF/3000ad
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter One
Ignoring her frantically thudding heart, Amanda Powell pulled open the door to Carnal Compensation Headquarters and walked inside. Despite the ordinary, unassuming atmosphere, Amanda felt as if she were walking into the bowels of hell. She tried to appear casual and confident even though her legs wobbled and her hands trembled. How in God’s name had her life been reduced to this?
She knew the answer, of course. But if she stopped to think about all the second chances and bad decisions that had resulted in this day, she’d lose her mind. Or worse, she’d lose her nerve and run in the other direction.
The headquarters was nothing unusual. Shouldn’t a business that bartered away human females appear more nefarious? Located on the thirty-ninth floor of a high-rise in downtown Denver, this was one of nine Carnal Compensation offices in the U.S. alone. There were more in other parts of the world. The space had been divided into shoulder-high cubicles. The perimeter walls were lined with traditional offices and the space closest to the door served as a reception area.
Amanda was greeted by a middle-aged woman in a conservative dress and flat slip-on shoes. Her short brown hair was simply styled and compassion warmed her dark eyes.
“Do you have an appointment, dear?” the receptionist asked with a tentative smile.
“I wasn’t aware that I needed one.” Did they really have so many volunteers that they needed appointments? That seemed unlikely. There was no one waiting and many of the offices appeared to be vacant. Still, there were a lot of desperate people in the world. Unfortunately, Amanda was one of them.
“What’s your name?”
“Amanda Powell.”
“Have a seat, Miss Powell. I’ll see if one of the counselors can fit you in.” She walked off, leaving Amanda alone in the reception area.
Looking out over the cubicles, Amanda found several curious faces turned her way. The receptionist had been human, but most of the workers were Ventori. Their pale skin had a subtle pearlescence that shone beneath the harsh fluorescent lights and contrasted sharply with their raven-black hair. Their lips and fingernails were black as well, but she didn’t know if the coloration was natural or just popular among the alien race.
She dragged her gaze away from the onlookers and sat on one of the chairs arranged against the front wall.
It had been fourteen months since the first Skarilian ships had appeared in the sky above New York City. There had been no attempt to communicate, no grand reception celebrating humankind’s first contact with an alien race. Without warning of any kind, the Skarilians decimated all five boroughs, killing eight million people in a matter of minutes. Attacks on Tokyo, Delhi, Shanghai, and Mumbai soon followed, creating panic and chaos around the world.
The world’s governments had united in a frantic scramble to defend what remained of the planet, but all the diplomacy had been in vain and human weapons had been useless against the alien horde. The only position the Skarilians would accept was unconditional surrender. They were conquerors, intergalactic marauders that moved from one star system to the next, establishing their dominance through force and fear. Any planet foolish enough to resist them was destroyed.
“Mr. Tront has agreed to see you.”
Amanda gasped, then smiled. She hadn’t heard the receptionist return. She’d been lost in memories of those first few weeks, so many dead, so much destruction. It had all seemed hopeless. In many ways, it still did.
“Thank you.” She stood and followed the older woman toward one of the offices along the perimeter wall.
“You’re fortunate, young lady. Mr. Tront is the top-ranked counselor. He successfully recruits more carnal companions than anyone else in the U.S.,” the receptionist announced to Amanda, then moved aside.
After pausing for a deep breath, Amanda walked into the office, unsure what to expect.
Mr. Tront sat behind a wooden desk, watching her silently. His charcoal-gray suit looked expensive and he had the slicked-back smarm of a used car salesman. With brown hair, green eyes, and ordinary features, there was nothing unusual or even interesting to distinguish him from any other businessman. He motioned to the chairs in front of the desk, gaze sharp and assessing. “Have a seat.”
Amanda sat, not sure if she was comforted or angry that the person who “successfully recruits more carnal companions than anyone else in the U.S.” was human, not Ventori. She perched on the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap, not wanting to touch anything.
“So what brings you by this fine afternoon?” Sarcasm rippled through his cheerful tone, putting Amanda on the defensive.
“I want to know more about your program. I might be interested in doing… what you do.”
“And what is it you think we do?” His brief attempt at civility fell away as scorn narrowed his eyes.
“Your ‘carnal companions’ reward Ventori Defenders for protecting Earth against the Skarilians. We would all be dead without the Ventori, so this is our way of demonstrating our gratitude.” She tried to make it sound noble for her own peace of mind. That was how the commercials justified this sort of degradation. It was every young woman’s civic duty to contribute to the cause. Young men joined the Global Security Force. Young women became carnal companions. It was all very patriotic.
The Ventori had arrived six days after the Skarilian horde, driving the marauders back and offering assistance—for a price. They were mercenaries, ruthless warriors, and fellow victims of the Skarilians. Humans from every nation had little choice but to accept their conditions and start arranging for carnal compensation for more than two million Ventori Defenders. The alternative was enslavement by the Skarilians, or death.
“I’ll be blunt, Miss Powell. Two kinds of females apply for these positions. The first, and most common, are young women already involved in the pleasure industry—strippers, porn stars, escorts, that sort of thing. They have realistic expectations, and that makes the situation more satisfying for everyone.”
Amanda in no way qualified for that category, so she asked, “And what’s the second type?”
“Good girls, like you, who are convinced they have no other choice. They think they understand what will be expected of them, but they’re completely unprepared for the reality awaiting them on the Ventori ships and outposts. They inevitably call in tears after the first few days, begging to be released from their contract. They’ve seen the error of their thinking and want to come back home.”
Raising her chin, Amanda met his gaze and used her most assertive tone. “That won’t happen with me.” It couldn’t. Her life was in danger, thanks to her father. If she stayed on Earth, it was almost guaranteed that she’d be dead within the week.
Tront just stared at her, green eyes assessing as they moved from her face to her body and b
ack.
The longer he stared, the more self-conscious she felt, and the louder her grandmother’s voice became. What are you doing, Mandy? I brought you up better than this.
Not now, she pleaded with the ghost. Don’t make this any harder than it is already. I have no other choice.
Grandma Nellie’s image was nearly as clear as her voice. She shook her head, disappointment clear in her expression. There are always other choices, young lady, if you’re looking for them.
“This isn’t for you, princess.” Tront motioned toward the door. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
Now he’d made her mad. He didn’t know anything about her other than her appearance. He couldn’t just dismiss her like a reject from some mass casting call. “I wouldn’t have come here unless I knew what will be expected of me. I’m twenty-four years old. I won’t panic. I promise.”
The smug jerk laughed. “Really? What do you think a carnal companion does?”
Amanda licked her lips, refusing to be intimidated by his abrasive attitude. “Companions offer physical pleasure to the defenders in exchange for Earth’s protection. I’m not afraid of sex. In fact, I find it quite enjoyable.”
Heat cascaded through her body at the gross exaggeration. Just the word sex was enough to make her blush and ‘indecent’ thoughts often sent her rushing for her rosary. Her mother had died when she was a child and her father was useless, so much of her adolescence had been spent with her devout Catholic grandmother. Amanda’s experience with sex was limited at best and each awkward incident had been tainted by overwhelming shame. According to her grandmother, sex was dirty, sinful, something to be endured for the express purpose of conceiving children. If Amanda’s life weren’t literally on the line, she wouldn’t have considered this program.
“You make it sound civilized and polite.” Tront shook his head. “I assure you, it’s neither.”
“I know what sex is like,” Amanda insisted. “It’s sweaty and—”
“The Ventori are animals. They’re savages used to taking whatever they want whenever they want it. My girls get fucked. They suck cock. They have their pussies stuffed so full they want to scream, then they take it up the ass while they’re bound and helpless. Are you ready to welcome a cock into every hole you’ve got, all at the same time?”
Another wave of tingling heat washed over Amanda, but she refused to consider the cause. Her grandmother’s continual lectures about the evils of sex had had an unintended effect on her curious granddaughter. The more Grandma Nellie had railed, the more determined Amanda had become to find out what all the fuss was about. Fear of discovery had kept her exploration restrained and mostly innocent while Grandma Nellie was alive. After the dear woman’s death, however, Amanda grew bold and adventurous.
Forbidden images had led to video clips, and the teasing clips led to actual porn. Amanda shivered. She’d been eighteen or nineteen and still she felt horribly guilty about the hours she’d spent locked in her bedroom with her laptop and a discreet vibrator. She felt as if Grandma Nellie had created a robot and programed it with her strict belief system. Then when Nellie passed away, she locked Amanda up inside the robot, expecting her to accept the programing as her own.
Amanda loved her grandmother, but she also felt trapped inside the robot. She knew what Nellie expected her to think and feel, but Amanda’s true self, the self she never shared with anyone, didn’t always agree with the teachings her grandmother had instilled with such determination.
That was why Amanda’s internet exploration had eventually led to darker, more ‘deviant’ pleasures—bondage, power exchange, even multiple partners. The more taboo, the better. She devoured the information and savored the images, hoping one day to escape the mental prison her grandmother had constructed for her.
Still, it had all been harmless rebellion, a way of proving to herself that she was finally free of her grandmother’s authority. She had never dared to bring any element of her fantasies into reality. Until now. Was this the chance she’d been waiting for, a way to break free of her grandmother’s expectations and live life on her own terms?
She forced the memories aside and focused on the present. Tront was trying to shock her, dissuade her from her chosen path. Well, she wouldn’t be bullied by a foul-mouthed salesman, and he couldn’t frighten her off by describing her deepest, darkest fantasies. “Why would the last be true if each companion is assigned to her own defender?”
He laughed again, pressing back into his chair. “Do you really know so little about the Ventori?” When she just glared at him, he explained, “They live in pods, sweet innocent, pods of two to five males. And pods share everything.”
Despite her best efforts, Amanda felt her eyes widen. “Five? Some of your girls have to pleasure five warriors?”
“Yes. The most common pod size is three, but there are plenty with four and five.” Challenge arched his brows. “Do you really think you’re ready to submit unconditionally to the sexual needs of five dominant males?”
She shook her head, but her pulse was racing. The thought of two lovers was tantalizing. Three was intimidating, but still arousing. Five? An all-out gangbang was so far outside her comfort zone it left her paralyzed with fear. “I can’t do five. I didn’t realize…”
“What about two?” His expression changed, became more calculating.
Anger returned in a calming rush as she realizing his strategy. By accenting the worst-case scenario, he had made the situation he was about to propose more appealing. No wonder the son of a bitch was their top recruiter. “Why do you ask?” She already knew the answer, but continued to play along.
“You’re a sweet, innocent girl next door, just the sort of female some of my upper-level clients have requested. Have you ever been with more than one—” He cut himself off with a soft scoff. “Have you ever had sex before?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “I’ve had three different lovers. Thank you very much.”
He opened his laptop and stared at the screen for several minutes, expression intense. “Have you experimented with any sort of kink?”
She shrugged, but averted her gaze. In her mind or in reality? The two required very different answers. Her actual sex life had been vanilla as catechism, but her fantasy life had been downright decadent. “A little.”
“Explain.”
“I’ve been handcuffed and one of my lovers used a toy to arouse me.” Heat crawled up her neck, blossoming across her cheeks. This was so embarrassing.
After typing a bunch of commands, Tront asked, “Are your breasts natural?”
She snapped her gaze back to his face, incensed at his rude question. “That’s none of your business.”
He smirked and shook his head, pushing his laptop aside. “I’ll say it again. This isn’t for you, princess. Go wait tables or become a nanny. The Ventori would devour you.”
She couldn’t stay on Earth. If she wanted to live, she had to make this work. “Yes, they’re real. I’m wearing a pushup bra, but that’s all.”
“Show me.”
It was a test. She could see it in his eyes. If she refused, he’d dismiss her. Well, she’d have to do a whole lot more than bare her breasts if she made it past his humiliating interview. She’d have to ‘suck cock’ and ‘take it up the ass.’ A forbidden shiver dropped down her spine. She’d fantasized about those sorts of things for years, but she’d known it wasn’t real. Was she brave enough to let it happen in reality, to submit completely to her Ventori masters?
With her gaze still locked with Tront’s, she unbuttoned her blouse. She didn’t wait for his prompting, but unhooked the front clasp of her bra and moved the cups aside. Her breasts were on the small side, thus the pushup bra. But they were nicely shaped and sensitive. In fact, they were one of the few parts of her anatomy she wouldn’t change if given the option.
His gaze dropped to her breasts and a salacious smile parted his lips. “Very nice. This client warned that he’ll re
ject anyone with augmented breasts. He and his podmate are both high-ranking officers, so they can afford to be choosy.”
She quickly refastened her bra and buttoned up her blouse, face flaming. “How long is the contract?”
“Two years.”
“Two years?” She’d heard most contracts required a six-month commitment. Six months would give her father time to testify against the vicious drug lord threatening them both. Two years would be intolerable.
The police had put her father and her in protective custody and promised new identities once the trial was over. It had taken four days for the drug lord’s men to find them, and they’d narrowly missed killing Amanda. The police swore it was a fluke and moved them to a second safe house. It had taken the drug lord’s men eleven days to find that one. They’d slaughtered the cops who’d been guarding the house while Amanda and her father had barely escaped.
Her father was convinced the only way the drug lord could have found them was if the cops had a traitor in their midst, so he sent them a message saying he would still testify, but he didn’t trust them to keep him, or his daughter, safe.
So her father had disappeared, using skills he’d learned while working decades undercover. And he’d urged her to do the same. In fact he wouldn’t even let her tell him where she planned to go. He didn’t want to be able to give her up if the drug lord’s men managed to capture him.
She knew she couldn’t trust the police, and she couldn’t contact her father. She needed to disappear, and the Carnal Compensation program was her last option. “Two years is a long time to be cooped up on a spaceship.”
Tront shrugged. “They have a suite at Shadow Mountain Lodge. I’ve heard it’s beautiful up there. You wouldn’t spend the entire two years on their ship.” He looked up from the screen, expression bland. “Many of my veteran companions will find this offer appealing. I won’t have trouble filling the position. However, I stress again. These are not human males. In fact, they aren’t just Ventori Defenders. They’re both commanders. They’re used to being obeyed. Can you submit without question or argument? That’s what it will take to please these two. It’s what they’ll demand.”