Reina in a Strange Land

Reina laughed. "Oh, right, a slave girl costume? How perfect for me," she added, sarcastically.

"Of course, that's just for show. During the actual sale you wouldn't be wearing any clothes!", the old woman said with a chuckle. "Only a fool buys a slave girl with clothes on."

Reina saw the woman looking at her with that all-knowing gaze, and she suddenly flushed. She looked again at the colorful label, then at the red silk. There was barely enough material there to cover anything, and it was shear... so it literally wouldn't cover anything! Reina was repulsed, and yet, she couldn't help wondering how would it feel to be dressed in such a thing, standing before that crowd of men, and women? All eyes would be on her, and she wouldn't have her usual fitted suit and blouse to hide her curves from the leering eyes of men. Reina lived in a world where slavery was legal, and scary, and terrible. But this costume was the stuff of fantasy - a barbarian world, stone auction block surrounded by handsome shirtless muscled men who would examine her, with their eyes and perhaps, their hands. She imagined the horror of standing there, as the auctioneer showed off her assets, while the bidders judged her beauty and desirability in the most direct way. She always wondered if men found her attractive. In this barbarian world, she would know instantly by their bidding, or lack of it. I'd be auctioned off like an animal, Reina thought, based on the bidders' evaluation of my face, my lips, my hair, my breasts, my hips. And the one who valued those things the highest would own me!

And what if she didn't receive any bids? After all, it was expensive to buy a slave. A man might get only one chance to get it right. Without bids she might go to someone... repugnant... poor... cruel.

The old woman knowingly finished the thought. "Yes, to be auctioned off like that would be horrifying. Unthinkable, eh dear?"

Reina's head jerked to look at her. Had she read her mind? The woman seemed to know her thoughts. What a sales woman she was, truly gifted. "I... haven't given it any thought," answered Reina, submissively. The old woman looked at her with that knowing grin again.

"And yet, think of the feeling of pride if your sale price was unusually high? Men and women fighting over you, willing to hand over years of hard-earned cash just for the chance to purchase you, to take you home in chains, to dominate and train you, and to own you, in every sense of the word." The woman's voice was like a lover's caress, seductive, penetrating.

Reina looked at the strange woman, feeling embarrassed by the direction of the conversation. "Sounds wonderful. No chains with the costume?" she asked, with a little grin. But the woman never seemed to notice her sarcastic tone.

"Oh, of course, silly me. We have all the appropriate accessories, of course!" the old woman said brightly, rummaging through a chest full of clothing. She turned, holding up a delicate set of bronze chains. The links were tiny, like fine jewelry, and the matching collar was slender, clearly meant for a woman's neck. Reina's hand drifted subconsciously to her chest just below her neck.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" said the woman, holding them up for Reina to take. She took the set of chains - it was so light, clearly not meant to actually restrain her, and yet as she fingered the chains, they were clearly not a cheap costume accessory either. Nor did they appear to be new. In fact, the chains looked old and worn, but of fine craftsmanship. She couldn't stop looking at them, so fine and unusual. She held up the chain and ran it along outstretched wrist. The metal felt light and sensual on her skin.

"See these loops, here, and here? That's so they can chain you to a coffle. Perfect for parading the merchandise through the crowded city streets and to the slave market. 'Show, don't tell', as they say," the old woman added with a laugh.

"Of course they are," chuckled Reina. The woman was really playing her part well. "It's made to look old, somehow?" she added, appreciatively.

"Yes, it was used in the slave markets of medieval Europe. They didn't sell Christians, but foreigners like you were fair game. But turnabout is fair play, and it was clipped on the throat of many a white girl sold in the Tripoli slave markets. Eventually it made its way to New Orleans. They would sell Asians, like you, in the great rotunda of the St. Louis Hotel."

"New Orleans?" Rena asked. Was she talking about the old slave days? "They sold Asian slaves?" she added. Reina was pretty sure they hadn't sold Asians in early America. But then her history classes had been scrubbed for sensitivities like everything else.

"Of course, anyone they could enslave," the old woman said. "Oh, dear, the idea upset your delicate sensibilities. I have just the thing for that too."

Reina gasped as the old woman picked up a whip, that looked as old and well used as the chains. She smiled at Reina, running the lash lovingly through her fingers. "So where would you like to be sold, dear? A great rotunda, in the old South? Or on the stone steps of a barbarian slave market, on a strange, exotic world? Use your imagination, and give it some thought, like you would a life-changing decision!"

Reina chuckled nervously. The woman was too much! "Ooh, I was always partial to the barbarian slave market," she said, her eyes gleaming as she played along.

"A good choice," nodded the old woman. "Those virile barbarian men will teach you your proper place in no time. I imagine an Oriental slave girl like you would be a novelty for them."

"It's... Asian... these days," corrected Reina.

"Of course," said the woman politely. "So, are you ready to try it on?"

"Oh, god no, thank you," giggled Reina. "It's so... skimpy. Why wear a costume at all?"

"Oh, of course, a true slave girl prefers to be naked, but there's no need to rush things. Think of the symbolism. When you put on this costume, you give up a lot more than just your fancy business suit. You give up your education, your rights, and your very freedom. Slave girls don't need jobs, or phones, or money. And they certainly don't need badges and guns," she said, pointing at the bulge under her jacket. Reina frowned, reflexively putting her hand on the front of her suit jacket where the gun was supposed to have been hidden. The woman handed her the silk costume. "These slave silks will be all you have, once you choose to wear them. Here, feel for yourself."

"It's beautiful," Reina murmured, feeling the silk. Again, it was not like any cheap costume she'd encountered. They felt real, and while not fancy, and the colors a bit faded with time, they were still lovely. "But I don't think I'd give up my freedom to wear it. It's not that pretty," she commented, giggling again, though her throat felt tight and her voice a bit too high pitched. The conversation, while silly, had a strange disconcerting tone to it, like she was dancing with a scorpion.

"Oh, you give up your freedom," she said with a dismissive wave or her wrinkled hand, "but you gain so much more. "Like your Mr. Norman explained in that tawdry novel you read, slavery is freedom. Pleasure sluts aren't permitted clothes, dignity, or respect, but this liberates them to experience pleasure in a way no free woman can. They are pure sexual animals, unrestrained by our notions of "lady-like" behavior, livestock who exist only to give and receive pleasure." Leaning in, the woman's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know what they say: you haven't orgasm'd til you've been forced to cum by your slave master."

Reina gasped. "No, I don't, who says that?" she exclaimed, her voice a bit squeaky. She hadn't remembered telling the woman about the trashy novel she'd read a few years ago. She'd hated it, so poorly written, the male author so condescending, describing women like stupid livestock. And yet she'd never gotten the damn book out of her head. The ideas of the book so foreign, so repugnant, and yet the whole world seemed to be willingly following his lead down the path of slavery.

She noticed the woman giving her that knowing look again. Reina suddenly shook her head.

"You sound like a recruiter for the slave trade," she scolded. "I've heard the same drivel peddled to innocent young women."

"Oh course you're right," said the woman, nodding. "You have your job, so important, and your boyfriends, and you pay taxes, and do all that paperwork. Your life is so busy, and full of important busy work. What a pity, for you will never get to experience the purity and freedom of being a pleasure slave, where your only job, your purpose, is to please those who stand as master over you. What a magnificent life you are missing out on."

"Yeah, what a shame," said Reina, her sarcasm lost on the old woman.

"But do not despair," the old woman said. "You can find what you seek. It is already inside you. You keep that desire hidden deep inside you, locked away in a dark closet, unbeknownst to the world. But you long to go there, to that rich fantasy world, filled with strong barbarian masters and lovely slave girls in chains and slave silks. In that world, you can cast aside your inhibitions without guilt or shame, because inhibitions will not be permitted. Imagine a world where you will quiver helplessly, as the spasms of unimaginable pleasure ripple through your body."

Reina swallowed heavily, feeling a bit feverish. "Y-you have a wonderful imagination, but I have no time for such frivolous fantasies. I... I have a boyfriend, I don't need that..."

"Your boyfriend, yes," nodded the woman, with sadness. "He treats you with respect, always asks your opinion before doing something. In the bedroom he is respectful and gentle. If only that is what you truly desired. If only he knew how to make you feel feminine, and desirable."

Reina gasped in protest, then held her tongue. Best not to encourage the old woman who'd just described her Jacob perfectly. How did she do that? Reina wondered. Was she a charlatan, like a shady palm reader or corrupt evangelist?

The woman held up a finger to silence her. She picked up a riding crop off the shelf and ran the shaft through her fingers. "What you truly desire, my dear Reina, is... discipline, and structure. You can have those things you desire. It is not too late for you. This costume IS you. You were meant to wear it. You will look magnificent wearing it. Irresistible, even. You owe it yourself to try it on. You can go to other costume stores, but they will never have this. This is your opportunity, break out from that mold, explore your inner slave girl."

Reina stood there transfixed, imagining herself wearing the costume, pondering what she might feel. She shouldn't, she was a professional, and she was working! And yet she couldn't stop thinking about it...

"Come now, let's not dilly dally. Spit-spot!" she said, tapping Reina's bottom playfully with the business end of the riding crop.

Reina jumped, giggling nervously at the incredibly awkward situation. She realized that this mysterious old woman had given her the sales spiel of a lifetime. Perhaps she owed it to the woman to try on her damned costume.

"That's a girl, there's nothing wrong with having a spot of fun," the old woman said, again giving Reina that odd sensation like she was reading her mind. Reina moved in the direction the woman was gesturing, and she looked back, seeing the old woman following, riding crop in hand, with a black cat following her. The cat hissed at her, making her jump. It didn't seem to like her.

"Shhh!' the old woman said, hushing the cat. "Be patient, dear. Reina is our guest. There will be time for discipline later."

"How did you know my name?" Reina asked, realizing it was the second time the woman had called her by name.

"You told me, silly," she said, as if speaking to a child. "Use the changing room on the left. It's the largest, and the most private. Hurry up, or momma spank!" she said, tapping her palm with the riding crop.

The whole visit was taking on a surreal tone. Then her eyes widened. Of course, this was an elaborate practical joke, set up by the office. There was no other explanation for the woman knowing so much about her.

Reina opened her mouth to call out the woman's charade, but something made her stop, as she looked at the woman grinning playfully. Her whole office thought she was a stuck-up prude. She was sure they planned this to embarrass her, expecting her to run crying from the shop. They were probably outside waiting and would bring it up every time they saw her. Reina knew she had to loosen up a little, and not get offended, especially by this harmless old woman. It's not like the lady was Ellis, her crude, ogling boss. Besides, she had to admit, part of her craved doing something daring, outrageous. Ellis and her coworkers would never see her wear it, this was just for herself. Like the sexy lingerie she owned. No man had seen her wear it.

"I'll just buy it," said Reina, finally. "No need to try it on."

The old woman smiled. "Oh no dear, I have a rule. I get to see you wear it." Then the woman sighed, her voice more pleading. "Please, it took me a day to make that dress, indulge me?"

Reina couldn't say no to such a thing, and in fact, it would be nice for someone safe to see her in it. The changing room was much larger than she'd have guessed, and when she locked the door behind her, Reina realized there was something odd about the room. She'd noticed it had had four doors on the outside, but those doors weren't present on the inside. She chuckled. The other three doors were obviously fake, and the woman had brought her through the only real door. She was truly a great show person.

Reina checked that the door was securely locked, and looked carefully for cameras, before hanging the costume on a wooden peg and beginning to undress. She stepped out of her shoes, then removed her jacket and hung it up in a storage area, then removed her gun belt and holstered weapon and placed those in the cubby up high, but within reach. Reina stepped out of her pants and then unbuttoned her blouse, folding both neatly and placing them in the cubby. Bending over she pulled off her ankle stockings and placed them on the pile, feeling the cool wood floor on her feet.

Standing there in her white bra and panties, Reina had that odd sense of being watched, and she checked again for any signs of cameras. The room was full of mirrors, but none of them looked like they could be one-way, so she calmed her nerves and stripped off her underwear. The sight of her naked body in the front and back mirrors made Reina briefly turn about and check herself out, but then she turned to the hanging costume.

She would not have had a clue how to wear it if not for the image on the label. After examining it closely and looking at the artist depiction, she figured out how to drape it behind her neck, so that two narrow strips covered the center of her breasts, held onto her body by the swell of her full breasts and a thin red string she tied off encircling her chest. A small chested woman wouldn't be able to wear it, she realized with a frown. The right side of the garment had two tiny, tattered strips, that ran down to what passed for a skirt - a circle of red silk that draped over her hips and bottom, again held in place by her feminine curves. Reina wasn't as tall as the white girl in the depiction, yet the costume seemed a perfect fit to her curves. Reina pulled down on the front of the skirt, but that simply lifted the back, exposing more of her ass. The thin material covered just enough of her feminine parts as to avoid an arrest for indecent exposure. Maybe. And if there was a slight wind, the crowd would see her everything.

Reina looked at the tag again, and then she gasped. The tall blond girl... was gone. In her place... was an Asian girl! A shorter, voluptuous tanned Asian girl with shoulder length black hair. Reina blinked in confusion. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her, and she flipped the tag over - perhaps it had two sides? But the back was blank. She flipped it back, and then her eyes narrowed. The men depicted in the crowd had also changed, they looked... familiar...

"Oh, it fits you perfectly!" said the woman from directly behind her.

Reina spun in alarm, dropping the tag and staggering for balance. She reflexively grabbed at her waist for her gun.

"Are you going to shoot me?" the old woman said, laughing. "Slave girls don't have guns, silly! Really, Reina, what a little ditz you are."

Reina looked about in confusion. "How did you get in here? The door was locked." If the woman got in, perhaps there was a hidden door? And one-way windows?

"No it wasn't. You left it wide open, so anyone could see inside. Really, Reina, just because you dress like a bimbo, doesn't mean you should act like one, too."

Reina looked past the woman, and saw the door was indeed totally wide open. She opened her mouth in confusion, then yelped in surprise when the woman wrapped on her bottom with the tip of her riding crop.

"Enough of your foolishness. Let's go see you in the big mirror, shall we?" Reina hesitated. Every fiber of her being said to take off the ridiculous costume and get dressed, in case there really was a camera recording. And yet... she was dying to see how she looked. And she really didn't want to have to arrest the old woman for hitting her with the whip. She imagined the guys at the department laughing at her for bringing in an old woman. Better to play along with her harmless game.

With a sigh of annoyance, Reina followed the woman out to the big three-way mirror, and she gasped at the sight of herself. She looked... stunning, and so unfamiliar. Sexy, uninhibited, proud for once, to show off her assets. It felt good, she realized with a small grin. She kept turning this way and that, looking at herself from every angle, which the mirror made easy. She undid her ponytail and shook her head, splaying her shiny black hair about her shoulders.

Then she felt the woman pressing the crop into her back, urging her forward. "Up onto the block!" she said.

Reina looked down and noticed a small raised wooden platform, maybe a foot off the ground. She stepped up onto it, and gasped softly, for the cardboard felt like warm, worn stone on her bare feet. Reina looked down at it, but it still looked like wood.

She looked at the woman in confusion, and the woman smiled at her. "Clever isn't it? It feels like the stone of a slave auction, don't you think? I made it myself," added the woman, proudly.

Reina nodded, a thrill running up her spine. Wearing the slave silk, and standing barefoot on a stone floor, she suddenly felt like she was far away, on the worn stones of a barbarian world. In such a place, dressed like this, she would cease to be Reina Sayama, FBI agent and strong, independent woman. She'd be a helpless slave, at the mercy and whim of strong, barbaric men, who hungered to ravage slave girls like her.

"You feel it now, don't you dearie?" said the woman, approvingly. "Your bare feet walk across the stone floor, before the crowd of barbarian men, and women, all eager to see you, to see ALL of you. You will bare your soul, as well as your body, for you are nothing but a slave. Whatever you were, is no matter now. All that matters to them is your beauty, your flesh, and your eagerness to please. You've never been more fearful, and you've never been more aroused than you are now, about to be auctioned to your future master, or mistress. Your old life ends, and your new life begins."

Reina shivered, her thighs twitching suddenly, and she blushed as she looked down at the woman. She hoped it would be a man who won her - a woman might be cruel, might whip her, and deny her pleasure. Oh god, thought Reina, what am I thinking? She felt an odd tingling all over, an excitement that she'd never felt on any date. What was she doing? She suddenly felt naked, vulnerable, "I should go now," she murmured, stepping down off the platform.