Lizbeth couldn't recall a time she had ever been truly happy. Growing up in an all female encampment where guards marched day and night to make sure none of them escaped made her stoic and hard from a very young age.
"Get a move on!" One of the instructors shouted, right on cue as the women shuffled forward. The instructors referred to this place as a women's academy, but everyone knew better. This was nothing more than a prison. High barred walls capped with thin, sharp wire surrounded every perimeter of the grounds and all guards were armed with shock whips, ready to hit and electrocute anyone who was even remotely out of line back into submission.
Over the years, Lizbeth had only seen women leave this place if they were being led by a man, and only if that man had purchased her. There was no pretending about what this place truly was; founded to breed and train attractive women, it was a slave farm. Women here were taught from a very early age everything they needed to know from cooking and cleaning to song and written word to tailoring and art making of many forms. The very unlucky, at least unlucky in Lizbeth's mind, were also selected to be trained to please men with their bodies. She was not one of the women, and she thanked the Greater every day for that, but it did make it less likely she would ever be purchased, and therefore, less likely to leave.
Riding the current of all the women who surrounded her, Lizbeth was ushered into the fitness room. Every morning and evening for an hour each, every woman in the academy was required to work on their bodies, whether they had been chosen to be pleasers or not. The instructors wanted the women to all keep their bodies as fit as their minds. Lizbeth didn't mind the exercise; running was the only thing that had made her feel safe for as long as she could remember. She had been born and raised in this place, separated from her birth mother as soon as she was weaned off the teat. The women who directly had hands in her very early years often joked that she had begun to run before she was even able to walk.
Lizbeth lost herself on the track surrounding the exercise chamber. She was faster than any of the other women in the academy, and it wasn't only because she preferred to run. She was built differently than most of the girls she'd grown up with. Strong, thick, but short legs gave the impression that she would have to work harder for speed due to the muscle weight and smaller strides she was confined to, but on the contrary, the ease in which Lizbeth built and utilized her muscles made her legs much more efficient.
She had heard whispers from the instructors in regards to her differences in appearance. Her body wasn't the only way she stuck out. Almost every woman and girl in this place had dark skin, dark eyes and long, straight dark hair, while Lizbeth had cream colored skin, honeyed eyes and hair red as fire and just as unruly. Some of the instructors had even mentioned when they thought she wasn't listening that it was a shame she hadn't been selected by the pickers to learn the art of pleasing men so the instructors would have a chance to teach her. She had seen, only a handful of times, girls who were selected much later than they were supposed to be, and assignment changes, and she wanted nothing more than to blend in with the rest of the women and remain unassigned.
Lizbeth jogged steady around the track, looking at the other women as she did so. She was a part of group 3, which meant she and her group were the second to last women to exercise each morning and night. There were so many girls that even the massive exercise facility did not have enough room for all of the girls to work out at once so they were spilt into groups. Even then, the sheer quantity of women crowding the room made it difficult for the ones who wanted to switch stations, but hardly any of the other girls wanted to run, and so the track around the massive room was all Lizbeth's. As exercise hour drew to a close, she slowed her step until at a complete stop, and proceeded to stretch. Soon enough, she was following the other women out of the facility and back into the bright sunlight so she could make her way back to her cabin. As soon as she stepped inside, she had the undivided attention of her roommate.
"Lizbeth, how much did you run today? You look like you barely broke a sweat!" Rebecka was in exercise group two, so she had been leaving workouts when Lizbeth was entering them.
"About eleven miles. I wasn't running too hard compared to normal. I've been thinking a lot lately..." Lizbeth started. She glanced over at Rebecka who was brushing out her long black hair, watching herself in the mirror. The dark locks flowed gracefully down to her waist in a soft waterfall. She had taken off her shirt, like she always did when they were in the cabin, allowing her breasts to move freely.
"What about?" Becka inquired, shaking her hair out so it would fall naturally how she liked it to while continuing to observe her own figure. Becka had been chosen as one of the women chosen to please men, but even before that, she had an awareness of her body and appeal that Lizbeth never had of her own.
"About getting out of here." Lizbeth continued in a very low voice. Becka whipped around, her eyes snapping to lock on Lizbeth's, as round as saucers.
"We can't leave!" She exclaimed, sounding terrified. "You know it's impossible to get out!"
"Keep your voice down! You know what happened to the last girl," Lizbeth sighed, changing course. "I wasn't talking about trying to escape, I just wonder what it's like on the outside. Somewhere not surrounded by bars and guards and men." Lizbeth shrugged, hiding the longing she felt inside her and trying her best to sound indifferent. It wasn't entirely true. Lizbeth did want to leave, but after Becka's outburst, she couldn't risk the elaboration. The guards could have heard and began listening more closely to the following conversation.
"We are meant to be companions of men, Lizbeth. No matter where we go, they will be there. I'm sure the outside isn't much different than we have it right here," Becka offered matter of factly. She would never fully understand Lizbeth's burning desire to leave the compound. Becka, being trained as a pleaser, had much more likelihood of being purchased, and therefore leaving. It was puzzling to Lizbeth though, as Becka had been picked just two years before at age fourteen, whereas most girls were picked at age ten. Becka had never seemed to want to leave quite much, and her stance hadn't changed now that she had an easier way out.
Then again, with the way she was selected, Lizbeth suspected Becka had other motivations for wanting to stay. One day, when the instructors were doing their rounds, they had entered and found a fully nude Becka who, with confidence, let the instructors proceed with their routine room inspection while she stretched into sultry poses, trying to maintain their attention. In such a small room, it had been impossible to ignore her. The instructors immediately appreciated her confidence and within hours had submitted a change of assignment request to the pickers. A few days later, Becka was summoned and Lizbeth did not see her for three days following.
Lizbeth worried through the days, but tried not to show it around others. She knew Becka had a way about her that could get her out of trouble, but it just as quickly could have gotten her into trouble as well. So Lizbeth waited, going through the motions of those three days like a Soulless and praying to the Greater, who she wasn't even sure she believed in, that Becka would be okay with whatever she was enduring.
When Becka finally did return, she had done more than endured the process; She had loved it. Becka told Lizbeth of the entire three proceeding days, which had included some rather invasive inspections, interviews on what she excelled at and enjoyed, and fittings for new pleaser clothes that she was required to wear from them on. Becka was excited for the prospect, and Lizbeth on the other hand was completely terrified. How could anyone be excited to bend to any man's will, let alone in such an intimate way? How could Becka not see how sick it was that the people who ran this camp wanted half the girls exposed, practically naked, dancing around doing their daily duties? She couldn't understand it and never would.
"Lizbeth, have I told you? They brought me some new outfits since I have officially sized up again. This one is for workouts!" Just like that, Becka's one track mind was off Lizbeth's casual speak of the world beyond their walls and back to the present. Becka held up the top she had removed before Lizbeth came back from workouts and the small strip of stretchy fabric with a clasp on either side, studded with gemstones, was too revealing to accurately be called a shirt. "It's actually so much more comfortable to run in than it appears; I was shocked. Anyway, there's also-"
The front door of the small cabin banged open. "Lizbeth, Rebecka, report to the dining hall. Lizbeth, don't wear something of yours. Borrow one of Rebecka's dark outfits to contrast better with your skin. Hurry up!" The guard's voice boomed through the tiny space, but his eyes were glued the entire time to Becka's naked and oversized chest, even for a few moments after he stopped speaking before he closed the door again. Lizbeth ignored the gawking and set to getting dressed, knowing exactly what the summons meant: A buyer had arrived.
Becka threw Lizbeth a tiny wrap skirt made of shining shards of metal, glittering in the light, and an equally striking top that would barely cover her breasts. Lizbeth eyed the outfit in distaste but pulled it around her anyway. She had never worn pleaser clothes before, let alone to be shown to a buyer. It was against regulations for non-pleasers to wear the clothes, and she idly wondered why the change for this particular buyer. She pulled the long tie from her red hair and let her curls tumbled around her face. Becka pulled on the workout top she had been showing Lizbeth, and then assisted Lizbeth in adjusting the knots holding her clothes together so they were neat.
The two girls exited the cabin in anxious silence and headed to the dining hall where they were lined up with all the other girls. Almost none of the girls in the room were pleasers, and the ones who were all happened to be ones who were chosen late like Becka was. As Lizbeth looked around, she realized every girl was dressed in pleasure clothes and all were between fourteen and seventeen.
Lizbeth didn't have to look around long to spot the buyer. He stood in the middle of the room, tall, with sun kissed skin and slick, black hair. His facial scruff could only barely be considered tame, and the blue black of his eyes seemed to have no sparkle of life in them at all even as his lips curled into a wicked smile while he walked around the room, looking at the girls lined against all the walls. He walked close to the lineup, and when he passed Lizbeth, she noticed he smelled faintly of toast that had been left on the fire just a bit too long, but it wasn't an unpleasant smell. In his hand, he held a purse which presumably was fat with currency, and judging by the way his pockets slightly bulged, there was more tucked away as well.
Upon inspecting the entire lineup of girls who surrounded the dining hall, he spoke for the first time. "When I touch you, you will leave this hall. If I do not, stay put." The buyer once again walked the circle of girls, dismissing ones he deemed to not fit his criteria until he just had sixteen left including both Lizbeth and Rebecka. "I cannot decide if I want to take all of them now, or if I'd like to make another trip out to buy some of them later," the buyer announced to the instructors and pickers who were observing the choosing process in silence, surveying his choices the entire time.
The leader of the instructors, Instructor Christian, spoke in response. "Some of these girls, though very few, have been selected for the pleasure department and only had very basic training so far. If you'd like to take the others for now and come back for the pleasures later on, we can assure you they will no longer be inexperienced virgins at that time, but ripened young experts."
The buyer scoffed, seemingly offended by some part of the offer he had just been made. "I don't want 'experts.' I have specifically requested virgins. Why must you continue to offer me... tainted..." he trailed off before regaining his composure. "Very well, now it is, since you cannot be trusted to ensure their later purity. How much for all of them?"
To confirm, Christian eyed the buyer warily. "All sixteen of them, right now?"
"Yes, that is exactly what I just said. I'm glad you know basic listening skills. So, how much? I wish to leave with them immediately." Lizbeth watched his arrogance closely, the pompous way he commanded the room, and she decided she didn't like him a bit. Then, the buyer's eyes drifted back up the line and for a moment, Lizbeth swore his eyes rested on her slightly longer than any of the other girls before moving on. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as comprehension hit her. She was being purchased. She was getting out. Excitement laced with fear gripped her as thoughts raced through her mind and she stole a glance at Becka, who was straining to keep the smile on her face. She was obviously upset about the purchase.
Lizbeth tuned out the rest of the exchange of currency, looking directly at their new master while letting her mind wander. What could he possibly want with all of them at once? In her entire life, the most slaves she had ever seen purchased at one time were three. This man wanted more than five times the largest purchase she had seen. Anything, she thought to herself, is better than here, even him. When the currency exchange was completed, the women were ushered back to their cabins to retrieve their belongings. Almost immediately, Becka started complaining.
"So, this man comes in here looking for virgins. Who wants to ever buy virgins? That's the entire point of being a pleaser. Men like us more with experience. And then he comes right in and requests none of us continue our training? How dare he?" Becka was pacing around the room, grabbing little things here and there and folding them neatly to go into the chest where all the girls kept each of their belongings, which were few. "Then again, maybe he wants to teach us himself. Gosh, that would be exciting, one on one with a teacher giving only one man all my attention instead of the way the instructors do it now. Maybe something different will be better. Maybe-"
"Beck, don't you see what just happened? He owns us now. We are his. He's our master. We are to do and say anything he wants us to. Your training doesn't matter at this point. He chose us. And now we are getting out." Lizbeth's heart pounded with apprehension. Anything would be better than here, she thought to herself. Of course Becka didn't understand. The two of them hadn't ever had the same views about this place. Rebecka hadn't ever wanted out the way that Lizbeth had, but now that it was coming true, Lizbeth herself was more on edge than she had expected to be. Rebecka tended to take things as they came without much questioning, where Lizbeth, excited as she was to be finally getting out of the compound, was now anxious about everything unknown.
"Master... yes, we should call him master," Rebecka smiled, folding a wrap around skirt and putting it into her storage chest. Lizbeth dropped the conversation, knowing it was a lost cause. She quickly shoved her few plain outfits into her own chest which had an overwhelming amount of room still left in it.
"Here, Lizbeth, I have some cute outfits you can have," Becka offered, looking down at the mostly empty trunk at Lizbeth's feet. Pleasers were always given an abundance of clothing in arrays of colors while all other women and girls typically had to create their own. Becka handed Lizbeth a stack of clothing that would be much too tight and revealing for comfort, but Lizbeth put them into her trunk anyway. Before finishing up, Lizbeth changed out of the extremely flashy black outfit she had been wearing for display purposes during the buying process, and changed into a tight but comfortable pair of dark pants and a flowing long shirt that she had made to hide her body. Lizbeth made to hand the outfit she had taken off back to Becka.
"No, Lizbeth, you keep that. You may want it one day," Becka dropped her final belonging into her chest and pulled Lizbeth into a hug. "You've wanted out for so long, Beth, and now we are finally going. I see the fear in your eyes, but I know you can't hate anywhere more than you hate it here. I will miss the academy, but it was always home in a way it never was for you. Maybe this new place will be like home for you." The girls embraced for a few more moments before Lizbeth stepped back.
"Becka, no matter what, we are staying together. We will make it a home, even if it isn't one. I'm sorry you are losing what you have here, but this isn't how anyone is meant to live. It feels wrong, I just know it." Lizbeth looked away and snapped her trunk shut before pulling her hair back into the tie she had earlier cast aside onto her bed. The room was now bare; clothing, bedding and what few personal effects they had laid inside their trunks.