Once more shackled, Kohaku sat in the back of the silver painted wagon, watching the trees fly by its square windows as she sat inside the small and cold covered wagon. Beside her, sobbing uncontrollably, sat the bound violinist, who Mr. Gonzou had also chosen to purchase. She was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, and big chested, with olive skin, dark hair, and bright hazel eyes. It had been hours since they'd started the drive towards the Lovecorp outlet, and she hadn't stopped crying since. It was amazing to Kohaku that her tears hadn't run dry yet or her throat grown sore. And at first, Kohaku had sympathized with the young woman. How awful, she wondered, would it be to reach the status of a concert level violinist, only to be reduced to a slave in the wake of an unjust and untimely fate? But after sometime, the violinist's sobs, only partially muffled by the filthy gag in her mouth, became extremely irritating. The sobs only reminded her of Niho’s sobs and of how that resulted. Kohaku tried to tell herself that it wasn't the poor girl's fault, but wouldn't there be plenty of misery to appreciate later? Kohaku wanted to enjoy the trees and the grass and the rolling hills, as they lit up with the sunrise, without having wet, shaking sobs serve as a sound track.

They approached a grey, concrete building, largely unimpressive, which was surrounded by a tall, metal gate. If it weren't for the sign out front, Kohaku would have never guessed it belonged to Lovecorp. Two armed guards, stationed at the gate's main entrance, waved the van to a stop and checked Mr. Gonzou's employee badge before letting them through. Slowly, they circled around to the back of the building, until they reached a plain, metal doorway and the two slaves were escorted from the back of the van into a crisp, white room, smelling strongly of antiseptic. It was brightly lit with fluorescent bulbs, and was mostly bare, with the exception of some conspicuous shackles hanging from the ceiling, a few stools, a sink, and a shower head, without the rest of the shower. Sakutarou locked the metal doorway behind them, and the two slaves waited anxiously in the center of the room, while Sakutarou looked on and Mr. Gonzou smoked. Kohaku tried to work the irritating gag out of her mouth using her tongue. It tasted like gasoline and dirt.

"Not in my clinic, Natsuo!" Kohaku heard the slamming of a door behind her, and turned to see a tall, white faced woman in a lab coat snatching away Mr. Gonzou's cigarette and stamping it out. "How many times have I told you? Not in my clinic; it's disgusting!" She was beautiful, with long, flowing locks of raven black hair, cold darkened eyes, and deep red lips. She wore an excessive amount of jewelry, Kohaku noted, her eyes drawn to a mismatched set of bracelets traveling up each slender arm. The woman stopped in front of Mr. Gonzou's two new acquisitions, and her face dropped with disappointment, then reddened with anger. "Is this what you got for me, Natsuo?" She gestured wildly, first at Kohaku and then at her fellow captive.

Mr. Gonzou backed away defensively. "Look, it was the best I could do last minute. The one on the left is a concert level violinist, that's got to count for something, right? It's a selling point at least, a more than marketable skill. I'm lucky to have gotten what I did from Captly---"

The woman clenched her fists by her sides, her voice tense. "You went to Captly?!? Jesus Christ, Natsuo! The hell were you thinking?"

"Look," Mr. Gonzou growled, his voice growing threatening. "Captly & Company was the only other distributor in the area, and this is what they had available."

"It'll be embarrassing," the women sighed. "They'll stick out."

"Not as much as two empty slots would. We've got enough interesting pieces to keep tomorrow's auction impressive. I doubt anyone will be disappointed."

The woman swung around to face Kohaku, determined to find a new source for her rage. "And what about this one?" The women didn't take her ominous eyes off Kohaku, even as she spoke to Mr. Gonzou. "She any good? What did she do for a living?"

Kohaku's gag finally loosened and fell down around her neck. The woman stared at her, waiting for an answer. "I was a military medic," she replied, terse.

"Even worse," the woman groaned, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "A fucking medic...Fabulous."

You're a ‘fucking’ medic, Kohaku thought, anticipating a suspected medical exam, but she was smart enough not to say it.

"At least she's decent looking, I think we can justify that, Yasuka." Kohaku took note of the woman's name. "We'll make it work," Mr. Gonzou continued. "Like I said, we've got a solid eighteen high quality pieces. It'll be nice to have a novelty or two thrown in for contrast and good measure. If they don't get sold, we can raffle them off as door prizes or something. Though the medic isn’t all that bad looking, just roughed and dirtied up by Captly, those retards."

The violinist, who had been quiet since they'd entered the building---probably out of sheer nervousness---began to sob again, and Kohaku couldn't blame her. She didn't like being referred to as a door prize, either. And what sorts of slaves, Kohaku wondered, were they selling? Apparently, Kohaku and the violinist paled in comparison, and while Kohaku wasn't exactly a supermodel, she wasn't bad looking either. The violinist, if nothing else, would be prized for her natural D cups. It bothered Kohaku that they were being demoted to human goody bags, but she shrugged the feeling off. Lovecorp had very high standards. Now that she thought about it, she wouldn't be surprised if all eighteen prized pieces being auctioned off were first class chef supermodels, who had learned erotic dance in their spare time, and could also sing opera. You never knew.

"Alright," the woman, Yasuka, groaned, resigning herself to the situation. "It is what it is." She turned sympathetically to the violinist and in an instant her face turned from one of rage to one of charm. "There, there, honey. There's no need to cry. Have a seat," she motioned to a nearby stool and allowed the violinist to sit down. "Calm down. We aren't going to hurt you, I promise. Okay?" She smiled endearingly, and the violinist quieted, then nodded. From monstrous to motherly in no time flat, Kohaku thought, it was disgusting. This Yasuka knew how to approach her work. "Sakutarou," Yasuka hissed, "Take that filthy oil rag out of her mouth. It's down right gross what those Captly people do with their merchandise."

Then the woman turned to Kohaku. "You going to give me any trouble, girl? I'll take the cuffs off if you promise to cooperate, but one toe out of line, and they'll go back on. No second chances. Can you promise me that you'll be obedient?"

Kohaku nodded, then said quietly, "My name is Kohaku, but yes, ma’am. I'll cooperate." She wasn't going to escape now, not in a well guarded processing center during a medical workup. If she had to endure this, might as well do so with her hands free. She might even be able to grab onto and hide some sort of weapon, even a rusty paperclip was better than nothing. With a nod from Yasuka, Sakutarou undid Kohaku's cuffs as well, and she brought her hands tentatively in front of her, then rubbed the sore wrists gingerly. The Lovecorp leather cuffs were more comfortable than Captly's metal ones, but they were still irritating.

"Okay, then, Kohaku. Pants off, please." After Mr. Gonzou's earlier inspection, there was no shirt or bra left to remove.

Kohaku moved her hands to her belt buckle, began to undo the clip, then looked up and saw that her eyes met Mr. Gonzou's. He looked lustfully down at the "V" of her jeans, and Kohaku redid her her belt buckle defensively. "He doesn't have to be here, does he?" She looked over at Yasuka, hoping for some pity from her fellow woman kind. There was none. No pity for slaves.

"No, he doesn't need to be here," Yasuka explained. "But he wants to be here, and you don't get to call the shots in my clinic, I do. Now, take the pants off, or I'll take them off for you. Natsuo will probably be watching either way. Your call."

Glaring at Mr. Gonzou, whose triumphant grin was even more obnoxious than the dent rising in his pants, Kohaku reluctantly let her jeans fall to the ground, then her light blue panties. There was a sharp rush of cold air as the skin was uncovered. Before the war, Kohaku had kept herself well shaven. But there wasn't exactly time to shave your legs when you were busy fleeing for your life, and the little hairs had grown back. Her legs must be disgusting. She looked down at them. Yup. Disgusting.

"She'll need some shaving if she’s to even have a decent chance," Yasuka mused, reflecting Kohaku's thoughts. "Alright, girl, legs spread and hands behind your head, fingers interlocking. Don't move." As she spread her legs, Kohaku could feel Mr. Gonzou's eyes on her and flushed red in agony. She tried not to look at him, or his horrible, disgusting grin, but he made sure to stay in her field of view, taking great pleasure in her compromising position. Yasuka circled Kohaku slowly, making little tick marks and notes on a clip board, musing out loudly as Kohaku involuntarily burned with humiliation. She felt like a strain of virus on a microscope slide, every inch of her body being probed by Yasuka’s eyes and, more importantly, Mr. Gonzou's. Yasuka stopped at Kohaku's left side, where a nasty bruise colored the skin, a reminder of Eiichi’s night stick and the evening of her capture. "You know I won't be able to get rid of this by tomorrow, right, Natsuo?" She traced the outline of the bruise with her pen. "But I can probably bring the swelling down." Kohaku was circled some more, and the straightening of a tooth was added to her list of "corrective measures" as was the treatment of a small, but prominent burn along her left calf. When asked about the burn, Kohaku was evasive. "Fire and I don't mix well," she'd said simply, and Yasuka probed no further.

"She'll need a spinal implant and a registration number tattooed onto her wrist, of course," Yasuka noted on her clipboard, and Kohaku twitched. She had known it was coming, but the thought of a tracking implant, buried along the spinal column, was a terrifying notion. Even as a medic, she'd never be able to remove the implant herself, to perform surgery that delicate on her own back. If she ever did escape this, she'd have to pay out the nose to have it removed, and that was assuming she'd make it very far at all. Her master would be able to program her implant into his or her household security system, and if she left unattended, would immediately be alerted of it. Stupid ass technology...

"You a virgin?" Yasuka inquired, poised above her clipboard, her face betraying intense interest. Virgins would be more valuable, after all.

"No," Kohaku sneered, trying her best to lie in a desperate attempt to disappoint. She really didn’t feel comfortable with this question, but she didn’t like these people and didn’t want them to be happy at her own expense. “If you're surrounded by soldiers that are far from their own girls, eventually things happen.”

Yasuka appeared shocked by the blunt response, then laughed heartily. "That was a very nice try, honey. But there's no denying that your shaky voice means your lying. Almost believable as soldiers will do anything for a nice piece of ass. Yours isn't too shabby, either." Yasuka slapped Kohaku's left cheek and squeezed roughly, and instinctively, Kohaku removed her hands from her head and slapped her. In the face. As soon as she'd done it, Kohaku knew it was a mistake. Even Mr. Gonzou looked appalled, and as Yasuka looked up at her, she could see dangerous intention in the woman's eyes.

Kohaku frantically tried to apologize, to undo the damage. "I am so sorry, madam. Please forgive me, it's just these---"

"Be quiet," Yasuka hissed. "Put your hands back on your head, girl. And this time, keep them there, or I'm done trying to be nice to you." Apprehensively, Kohaku obeyed, surprised it wasn't worse for her. Maybe she'd be given another chance to be obedient, and stay uncuffed.

But Yasuka didn't stop with the fondling of Kohaku's ass, and decided to test her authority further. To Kohaku's abject horror, Yasuka ran her hand over to the other side of Kohaku's hips, opposite of her butt, and began to rub, slowly at first, allowing heat to build between the poor slave's legs. The evil woman grinned at Kohaku devilishly, daring her to move. And Kohaku understood. Yasuka was looking for an excuse to abuse her. There were probably rules prohibiting poor treatment of the merchandise unless there was more than one instance of disobedience. It took all of Kohaku's willpower not to back away. She couldn't lose this test of will. But Yasuka, realizing she'd lost the first round, decided to take the challenge further, sliding two fingers into Kohaku, the fingers doing more damage within her. Kohaku cringed at the pain. She was being violated, roughed around and probed by Yasuka for the woman’s pleasure. How sick and disgusting was this?

"I’ll kill you for this," Kohaku hissed, her eyes wide in pain and anger.

Yasuka grinned. "My clinic, my rules. I don't care if it isn't necessary, bitch. You can't move, and don't you even think you have a chance at killing me.” She pulled and pressed, wrenching around, making Kohaku wince with the pain. "You know, I have my own girl at home, and she loves this, but she’s the real kind of slutty." The woman withdrew her now wet fingers from her captive and reached back behind her ass, pushing into it. Kohaku pulled away, then immediately regretted it. A triumphant grin grew across Yasuka's face, and she motioned for Sakutarou to come over and cuff her. Damn it!

"No!" Kohaku lurched her right knee forward into Yasuka’s gut and turned to face Sakutarou. She needed to try and keep herself free, and now she'd fucked it all up. If she were cuffed, she'd lose all hope of finding a weapon or a point of escape.

Yasuka groaned and bent over at the strike, forcing out words through gritted teeth. "Sakutarou, hang this insolent bitch up. I want to make it very clear how all of this works."

"Don’t you fucking touch me!’" The muscular hunter, ever silent, grabbed Kohaku with ease by the hair, her punches not resulting in anything against the burly man. He pulled her off her feet and raised her towards the shackles embedded in the ceiling. And for the first time since the night of her capture, it finally sunk in that Kohaku was a slave, and her captors could do whatever they wished. Well, the Lovecorp employees couldn't do whatever they wanted, at least not without being fired, but still...Kohaku's heart raced in terror as her arms were shackled above her head, and her legs were spread by a long, metal bar with ankle cuffs on either end. "For the love of god, put me down!" she screeched.

"Careful with her, Yasuka," Mr. Gonzou warned, tentatively. He seemed afraid of the woman. "You don't want to damage the merchandise. I'd leave the bitch alone. She’s a virgin and we definitely do not want to mess with that kind of product."

"The bitch kneed me, Natsuo! And she failed to follow the same direction, twice. I've got authority to punish her a little. Don't worry, I won't leave any marks." She turned sinisterly to Kohaku, and the violinist started crying again, but Yasuka ignored her. She turned to what appeared to be a cabinet high above the sink, but when she opened it, a white mist drifted out. It occurred to Kohaku that it was probably a freezer, used to store blood samples for later analysis. This was, after all, a clinic. After rooting around for a moment, Yasuka removed what appeared to be a blue, cylindrical cold pack, a few inches in diameter and maybe six inches long. Still wearing a horrible grin, Yasuka walked over to Kohaku and, with one hand, deliberately spread apart Kohaku’s legs. With the other, she pushed the frozen length right up against Kohaku's loins.

Kohaku cursed, and inhaled sharply. The cold pack didn't look very sinister, but right up against her loins, it burned. She could feel her body straining to push away from it, pressure welling up inside her, the frozen mass unbearably foreign. Yasuka slid the cold pack down a little ways, relieving some of the pain, then began to viciously rub the ice pack against her so that she once again cursed. It hurt a lot more than she imagined it would. Her privates were used to being kept warm. She'd never had anything frozen up like this before. "Sadistic bitch," she hissed, and Yasuka took her fingers, pinching the sensitive flesh until, it too, burned. Slowly, she increased the speed with which she iced her captive, watching Kohaku wince with each rotation of the ice pack. It was certainly painful for the girl, Yasuka noted, but not quite an effective punishment. Since she couldn't do anything worse to her, physically, she'd have to amp up the humiliation factor. She pulled the cold pack out of Kohaku's pussy, and heard her sigh in relief.

"That's enough," Natsuo hissed, turning to the muscle-man, Sakutarou. "Get the product down, she isn’t anywhere near ready and it’s the day before the auction. We’ve got a business to run!" And, in a moment, Kohaku felt herself suddenly shivering in cold streams of water. She was below a shower head. Yasuka turned up the pressure of the water, and the cold worsened, hitting hard against her back. "You're disgusting," she sneered. "Look at me!" She grabbed Kohaku's now wet hair, and forced her to stare into her face. "Your legs are filthy! You're covered in drool, dirt, and blood! I can't have you prepped for auction like that." She turned toward a door, leading farther into the building, opened it, and shouted to an unseen assistant. "Chuugo, get the hell in here. I need you to clean up this filthy whore!"