Anthony sat in front of the fire, his shoes on the leather ottoman to enjoy the warmth as he tapped out replies to emails.

The business never stopped.

Customers in almost every time zone across the globe. So much hunger. So many dark wishes to be fulfilled.

A call interrupted his email screen, and he rejected Marcus so that he could finish typing. More confirmations that his feed would be online again soon… there were just so many decisions to make. What would the customers want from him now? What would the customers allow him to do… and keep paying?

The girl, Beth, had opened so many new avenues, and she had no idea about it. Marcus’ new slave was already coming like a porn star on command, even though she cried whenever they finished. Entertaining? Yes. Effective? That was yet to be determined.

Most of their customers were not interested in pleasing the slaves they purchased. That relationship was decidedly inverse, which was what Marcus failed to understand. Slaves should seek to please their Master, regardless of any benefits they received from the interaction. Whether it be food, or comfort, or pleasure.

Marcus was training girls to expect pleasure, and that would eventually be disastrous.

Finishing his email, he assured another long-term customer that his feed would continue soon. Even tempted him with the promise of new recordings.

Then another interruption, more buzzing. He was calling again. Tapping the answer button, Anthony held the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

“How is she?” The abrupt question made him smile, leaning over to wake up the tablet so he could watch her on the internal camera feed.

“Busy.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Marcus snapped.

“She’s with a guest.”

“You’re running a fucking whorehouse now? Is that the deal?” His brother growled on the other end of the line, and Anthony let him continue his rambling. “This is ridiculous. You said you could fix her.”

“I am fixing her, Marcus. This is what will wake her up.” Or it wouldn’t. But that conversation would only make his brother more irritable, and therefore more irritating.

“Who the fuck do you have over there? Sam?”

“No, Sam is not here.” Today. “And I’m sure you understand that discretion is important to our customers. It is not necessary for you to know, so you don’t need to.”

“That’s bullshit! We’re supposed to be partners, and you told me you’d fix Beth. Handing her over to your friends isn’t fucking fixing her!”

“First, these are customers, not friends. Don’t be ridiculous.” Anthony reached for the glass of sherry and took a small sip, savoring it before he continued. “Second, we may be partners in this enterprise, but how I handle my slaves is my business. I haven’t called you to ask about the number of orgasms you’ve given that slut in your house, have I?”

“At least my slave isn’t catatonic.”

Shrugging, Anthony glanced at the tablet again. The customer had her on the bed, knees bent towards her shoulders as he fucked her hard. Of course, the girl was unresponsive, staring off toward one wall, but it didn’t seem to dissuade the man atop her at all — which was promising. Very promising. “My slave is doing just fine, and while I adjust her behavioral issues, I plan to take another one.”

“What?” Marcus growled.

“She takes almost no supervision, and while she is adjusting I may as well produce another more amicable slave.” Anthony lifted the tablet and switched camera angles so that he could see the girl’s empty eyes as she rocked against the bedding.

Was she even aware of the man inside her? Had she felt the flogger? The cane?

“You can’t be serious.” His brother laughed as he spoke, and Anthony dropped the tablet from his view. The girl had become boring as soon as she’d stopped responding, stopped fighting. There was no fun in fucking her when she didn’t scream, or cry. It was like masturbating with a warm doll — effective, but not satisfying.

“Of course I’m serious. You have your business, and I have mine.”

“Well, your business isn’t done. You haven’t sold Beth.”

“I can sell her today, if you’d like?” Anthony offered, and reveled in the growl that came across the line.

“Where? Your friends in South Asia?”

“Again, they are business contacts, not friends, Marcus. And yes, I have contacts in Thailand who would love to add a pretty little blonde to their offerings.” The idea was tempting, it would take an email, then a phone call, and she’d be out of his house.

He would just need to finish working through the list of customers who had wanted to try her first.

“You can’t sell her like that, Anthony.” Marcus huffed. “She’s not even there. You didn’t break her, you shattered her. Fuck, you have to feed her! Those assholes in Thailand won’t do that, you might as well kill her.”

“I don’t kill slaves.”

“Right. You just ruin them.” Laughing, low and bitter, Marcus leaked pride into his voice. “At least I’ve got this one almost ready to go so our customers don’t leave and go to some other operation.”

“Your first auction, already? It hasn’t even been three weeks. Are you sure you want to bet before you’ve even done the kitchen test?” Anthony lifted the tablet to switch to Marcus’ feed. The small, dark haired girl was in his punishment room, complete with his collection of BDSM-style furniture and tools.

“She’ll pass.”

“We’ll see,” Anthony answered, but Marcus laughed again.

“Beth didn’t pass.”

Anthony smiled slowly, tapping until her room showed on the feed again. His customer was finished, and she was lying flat on her bed, legs slightly parted. “I never claimed she was ready for the test, Marcus. That’s the difference here. I know what they are ready for, your pride blinds you.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, I’m not interested in incest, but I’m sure your whore could use another few orgasms to ready her for the kitchen test.” He smiled, tapping his fingers against the glass of sherry. “Maybe I’ll come and help with it.”

“I don’t want you here,” Marcus hissed.

“Oh, but that’s not really your choice, is it?” Waiting, Anthony turned back to the feed of the dark haired girl. Sated and asleep, she was responsive, even though she no longer fought Marcus.

But she would probably fight him. Call out for his brother, call out Master hoping to be saved, but Marcus would never interrupt him. He’d let him take her, let him hurt her so that she learned what her future could be. So that she could accept it.

“Erin isn’t ready, yet.”

“Then she isn’t ready for the kitchen test either, is she, Marcus?” He traced the girl’s figure on the screen, waiting.

“Maybe next week. I’ll check on Beth later.” With that, Marcus ended the call, and Anthony set the phone down, allowing his brother a few more days with his first girl in the new house.

It wasn’t like he had nothing to entertain him. Beth was still a set of holes, a broken doll that he could do what he wanted with, and as soon as his customer gave his feedback and left, Anthony could enjoy himself.

A knock sounded at the door, and he stood to let the man inside.

Once he was gone, he could stand Beth in the shower and wash her clean. It would be easy. She stood when directed, bent in the ways he made her. Just like a doll. And then he could take her to the living room and play with her as he relaxed — they had only made so much progress on her gag reflex, and it would be another marketable component if he could get her to the point where she took a cock down her throat without gagging quite so loudly.

Anything to get more money out of his Thai contacts when he finally got rid of her.

Then, Anthony would need to look at the list of potentials and choose who he’d entertain himself with next. Maybe this time he’d narrow the customer list, keep only the more hardcore customers… the ones who liked it when he hurt them. Made them suffer.

Marcus could have the pleasure, the companionship, the gentility.

Anthony would handle the destruction.

It had always been a talent.