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The soaping gun was next. As per my design they hosed me down with a green, carbolic cattle shampoo, nice and gritty, which stunk to high heaven and smelled like tar and cough syrup. I was soon covered head-to-toe with thick, green foam, as the boys with the scrub brushes moved in.
A few used hand-held scrub brushes for my hair and crotch; a few used brushes with longer handles to do my back and stomach and legs more efficiently. One of the boys gently shampooed my hair; at least that felt good, sort of. The scrub team raised my feet high in the air and spread my legs wide so the camera could have a good look as a pimply-faced fatty with a stupid grin used a scrub brush to "scour her skanky, Yankee twat!" My tits and butthole got a similarly thorough scrub down.
After my freezing cold "rinse" I was treated to the indignity of a humiliating and entirely gratuitous "pest inspection". A 19-year-old teenage boy with gloves on spread my pussy lips and looked for "pests" while another boy filmed it up close with a tiny camera. Anyone in The Big D who had a phone could get a gynecologist's view of my spread, pink pussy.
"Guys love to see the pink," I had assured Jake. Now they were seeing mine.
No pests or disease were found, of course - but that wasn't really the point, was it? The objective was objectification, to make me feel like a filthy farm animal while entertaining the leering gawkers. In the next pointless "sanitary" procedure I was then deloused. The boy who sprayed me down with the pressurized delousing spray was wearing a gas mask to spare him from the burning, stinking chemicals. I was not so lucky.
"Give her a good spray between the legs, Beau."
"Yeah, these liberal bitches are filthy little sows."
When they finally released my wrist cuffs, Miss Fish-and-Chips, feeling quite full of herself, boldly strolled up to greet me.
"Oh, my! That was a jolly good cleaning, wasn't it?" she said cheerfully.
I stood before her freezing, soaking wet, and stinking of disinfectants. To put it mildly, I wasn't in the mood. I picked up one of the buckets containing the scrub brushes and dumped it right over her head.
It was the last thing I remembered before I heard my punishment collar buzz and everything in the room went black.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousabout 3 years agoSlow development, and a rather bland plot. Got bored half way through and decided to skip ahead to see if there is any action, but no, sadly, this story is just page after page of meh.
Anonymousabout 3 years agoi decided to give this series another look even though it has been a long time. Sarah realizes she lost everything a point I missed the first few times I read it. Since she will be on the block and sold soon she only currency she has now is her three pleasure zones. I would love to read about her post sale adventures since she gave up everything now and is a forever pleasure slut. Please add some more chapters after her sale and branding. Thank you.
Tanukiover 4 years agoIn a way this is a revenge story, in that we realize that Sarah has laid this trap on herself by designing the slave processing plant which she's now experiencing first hand. I think it might be satisfying if Sarah begins to regret her past actions, to begin to submit mentally as well as physically. It would make her seem more real. Because if there's no mental submission, then it doesn't make as much sense that she is turned on by being physically enslaved. That she deep down wanted this to happen. Your descriptions of the enslavement are always so clever and devious, I'd like to see more descriptions of the girls breaking down mentally, at least temporarily. I mean who wouldn't fall to pieces if forced to endure these things? :)
Anonymousover 4 years agoLike many others, I want to see what happens to that reporter ! Like I want to know what happens to Tracy's friend Suzi from Slave Yoga ! Will SHE end up in a collar as well ? Thank you for the story Joe. Your style is very appealing and readable.
Anonymousover 4 years ago... congrats on so many fresh ideas and enticing narrative flow.
Will she be spared at the end or will her pre-monitions about being sold for higher profit turn true? Or maybe, the slave processor keeps her on as a slave and milks both her consultant and horny slut skills? Most likely, You will surprise me with an even better solution.
Thank You and please carry on with Your good deeds!
