Shanghaied Ch. 01-02

"No ma'am.

"And you don't want to get yourself no more time do you honey?"

"No ma'am."

"You'd like to keep your time as a slave girlie as short as possible wouldn't you?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And you know how to do that?"

"Yes ma'am, I need to be a good slave girl."

"That's a good girlie. Now open wide honey."

Ms. Washington got a dog biscuit out of her desk drawer and, having no other choice, I opened my mouth, and let Ms. Washington feed it to me.

"There you go honey."

I really, really, don't see how dogs like this crap. Yuck! Seriously, it tasted like dog food. Although I chewed it up as fine as I could and swallowed hard, it went down like swallowing sawdust. Luckily as I was chewing Ms. Washington had reached behind her on a credenza and gotten me a paper bowl and a bottle of water, filled the bowl, and sat it down in front of me just as I swallowed. I really needed it.

But, as I snatched up the bowl up and started to drink, Ms. Washington thumped me on the top of my head with her backscratcher.

"Bad girl," Ms. Washington scolded me. "Now you know girlie that that ain't no slave-like behavior. Now put your bowl down on the floor honey and lap up your water like a slave girlie's supposed to."

"Yes ma'am," I said, rubbing the top of my head.

Reluctantly, I sat the bowl on the ground, got on my hands and knees and lapped up the water with my tongue. I heard a couple of people giggling at me. If being bare ass naked in an office building, wearing a collar, licking up water on your hands and knees out of a bowl doesn't confirm your inferior status, nothing will because, let me tell you, it's really demeaning.

"That's good honey," Ms. Washington said, petting me again. "Now, see how easy it is to be a good slave girlie."

"Yes ma'am."

"That's a good. Now honey, you gotta kneel down on your mat there and stay real still and quiet for me, okay."

"Yes ma'am."

As I obeyed, Ms. Washington petted me again. "Do you want another treat honey?"

"No ma'am," I blurted out quickly, "seriously, thanks but I'm not hungry."

Nevertheless, Ms. Washington smiled as she fed me another biscuit. It didn't taste any better the second time. I knew what she was doing. By dehumanizing me, Ms. Washington was transitioning me; easing me into my new role as a slave, giving me a little taste of what was to come, and instilling in me that, now that I was a slave, I had the same social standing as a golden retriever. Apparently she felt that giving me an orientation for what a new slave could expect was part of her job.

As humiliating as it was, Ms. Washington was right, I wasn't even a person anymore. Naked, collared, tagged, and owned, for or all practical purposes, now I really was just Janice's dog. I might have been a lot more appreciative of Ms. Washington's attempts to educate me on my new role in society better if the bitch didn't seem to enjoy her job so much. She all but busted out giggling when she fed me the doggie biscuits.

"Now you be a good slave girlie honey and enjoy your treat while your master and I have a little talk, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," I said as I began begrudgingly crunching on my doggie biscuit.

"Good," Ms. Washington said before turning her attention to Janice. "Now, I'd like to go over a just a few of the most important rules with you."

"Okay," Janice said.

"First, unless you tell your girlie otherwise, your slave girlie gotta show proper slave girlie etiquette at all times. This includes kneeling in front of you, remaining silent, speaking only when spoken to, and being appropriately submissive as well as any other rules you put on her."

"Okay."

"Second, and this one is real important, your slave girlie mustn't try to use no computer, no social media, no money, no credit cards, no phone, or no property, even clothes, without your permission, nothing. And we here at the Department of Slavery really don't reckon that's it's a good idea for you never let your girlie have no electronic devices at all."

"Why not?" Janice asked.

"You've gotta cut all ties your slave girlie's gotta her previous life or she ain't gonna to want to be a slave none. She'll keep trying to keep up with her friends and live her old life as much as she can. That's no good. Your slave girlie just needs to lose all shame, forget all about her past as a free girlie, and just concentrate on being the best slave girlie she can be. She gotta give up all of former life or she ain't gonna be worth nothing as a slave and you ain't gonna have nothing but trouble out of her.

"What if she does? What if she still tries to keep ties to her past or uses a phone?"

"It's a crime and she'll get herself another 30 days of slavery for it."

Janice looked at me, "You hear that, no computer and no phone."

"Yes ma'am," I muttered, still shocked as my entire former life as a free person was being wiped away right before my eyes.

"Third, your slave girlie's modesty belongs to you and you alone. She don't own none of it, you do; so she ain't entitled to no privacy and no modesty other than what you give her."

"That's good to know," Janice seemed pleased

"Fourth, your slave girlie gotta always address all us free people as sir or ma'am. As her master, you decides on how she addresses you."

"Ma'am will do," Janice said to me.

"The rest is all spelled out here in these rules and regulations. Y'all both really gotta read this really carefully." Picking up a couple of booklets entitled Slave Owner's Manuel, Ms. Washington handed one to each of us.

"Thanks," Janice.

"Now let's get the two of you back to processing and finish your girlie's registration," Ms. Washington said before leading us to the back.

First, Ms. Washington took a DNA cheek swab from me and then she strapped me down on a chair, adjusted headrest/machine to the back of my neck and strapped my head to that as well.

"Now honey, you're gonna to feel a little bit of a sting when you get tatted but I need you to be real still for me, okay? It'll only last a second, I promise."

I yelped as the machine half tattooed and half burned a bar code and my slave number onto the base of my neck, permanently identifying me as a slave. Ms. Washington then checked the tat, applied a topical analgesic, unstrapped me, and took to a small photo studio and photographed, fully nude, from every angle for my ID photos as well as fingerprinted me before we came back to her desk and I knelt on my mat again.

"Do you want any accessories for your slave girlie?" Ms. Washington asked Janice.

"Like what?" Janice said.

"We've got a full line of slave accessories: discipline devices, wrist and ankle cuffs, ball gags, transport cages, chastity belts, slave hitches, leashes, ear tags, skin dye, fetish costumes, and," Ms. Washington smiled, "we even sell doggie biscuits."

"Skin dye?"

"Yeah," Ms. Washington laughed. "You can dye your slave girlie here like an Easter egg if you take a notion to. We carry 15 different shades. Once it dries, it ain't as messy as paint and it really makes your slave girlie stand out. It only takes an hour and we've got a spray both in the basement. We've got yellow, green, red, purple, pink, blue, orange, white, black, maroon, powder blue, navy, chartreuse, or teal. We can even mix you up some custom colors if you like. It even dyes her hair and it lasts for a couple of weeks."

"What accessories do you recommend?"

"If honey here were my slave girlie, I'd go with the wrist and ankle cuffs." Ms. Washington said as she was getting a box of wrist cuffs out of a cupboard. "I think they really adds something to her looks. They'll really give your girlie that submissive look that your customers are gonna really love."

Clearly interested, Janice inspected the cuffs carefully.

"Why don't you let your slave girlie model them for you?"

"Okay."

"Go ahead and stand up for me honey."

"Yes ma'am."

As I stood, Ms. Washington took each of my wrists and buckled the leather wrist cuffs on them. Double sided black patent leather with a steel ring and a buckle on it, they matched my collar. I had to admit, once they were on, I really did look like a slave.

"And, if you ever did gotta discipline your slave girlie, it makes restraining her a whole lot easier." Ms. Washington said. "All you need is some clips or some small padlocks and voilà, in a just a few snaps and clicks, you've got her all trussed up hand and foot in just seconds."

"Do you sell any locks?"

"We sure do," Ms. Washington said as she returned to the cabinet and got out a couple of small white cardboard boxes.

Opening one of the boxes, Ms. Washington pulled out the lock.

"My favorite is this double carabiner lock here made just for slaves. It clips on in just a snap like a regular carabiner but, once it's on, you need this here wireless key to unlock it."

About four inches long (ten centimeters), it looked like someone had fused two mountain climbing carabiners together with a lock in the middle.

"Put your arms out for me honey," Ms. Washington ordered.

As soon as I held my arms out, Ms. Washington snapped the carabiner on my left wrist and then grabbed my right hand and 'click', just like that I was cuffed. I swear, it only took her like a second.

"You see, snap, snap, and you're done." Ms. Washington said to Janice. "It's effortless."

"That was easy," Janice said, looking impressed.

No one was asking me if I wanted to be wearing kinky bondage cuffs that makes paddling my tender white ass a lot easier but, since I was just a slave, I didn't get a vote. Clearly, the registration process wasn't for my enjoyment, it was for my enslavement.

"It gets better," Ms. Washington said as she reached up and pulled down a rope attached to a winch mounted on the ceiling.

I was so focused on everything else that I hadn't even noticed the rope or the winch before. The end of the rope had a large steel hook on it, like a meat hook only the end was rounded instead of sharp. Ms. Washington hooked around the lock binding my wrists, opened a drawer, and took out a remote.

"Up you go honey," Ms. Washington smiled as she hit a button on the remote.

In an instant, I could hear the whir of electric motor as the rope began to winch me upwards. By the time Ms. Washington hit the stop button, I was completely strung up by my wrists, stretched out so far that I was barely touching the floor with just the tips of my tip-toes.

"That's impressive," Janice said.

Out on the sidewalk, I could hear the audience laughing, chattering, and cheering some. Apparently they loved to see slaves like me get winched.

"We call this here winching the wench. It makes paddling your slave girlie's behind almost effortless. Your girlie's completely helpless now, ready for whatever punishment you take a notion to give her, ain't you honey."

Ms. Washington gave my ass cheek a squeeze.

"Uh, yes ma'am," I said, nervously, dreading what Ms. Washington might choose to demonstrate on my bare backside.

"Let me tell you," Ms. Washington said to Janice, "when you've got one of these, your slaves ain't gonna misbehave much. You winch um up a few times and they start minding their manners for you real good."

I yelped and my feet jerked about in mid-air as Ms. Washington hit the winch remote button again and lifted me off the floor a couple of feet. Outside, I could hear laughter at my reaction from my audience.

"It's waterproof. So you can even install this outdoors if you want, maybe out back behind the building. That gives you a little more privacy so your guests or customers don't have to see your girlie here get a little color to her bottom when she's misbehaved some."

As she talked, Ms. Washington gave me a push, causing me to gently sway back and forth.

"Now you just hang out for a few minutes and enjoy yourself honey while you master and I talk some, okay?"

"Yes ma'am."

Ms. Washington chuckled again.

"Nothing gets your slave girlie's respect quicker than winching her up off the ground for a few minutes," Ms. Washington said to Janice." Isn't that right honey? Have we got your attention now?"

"Oh, yes ma'am."

"Are you gonna to behave like a good little slave girlie or are we gonna to have to warm up your behind a little."

"Oh no ma'am. I'll do whatever you say," I exclaimed.

By now, I was beginning to twist a little as well as sway and my legs began to nervously kick and twitch a little.

"Don't you wonder off none honey. You stay right there for me while your master and me talk some more, okay?

"Yes ma'am," I said as I dangled helplessly in mid-air with a deer-in-the-headlights look on my face.

"How long can you leave her up there?"

"A little girl like honey here, five or ten minutes is safe. Plenty of time to do all the business you want to with her backside."

Appearing very satisfied, Janice watched me rock back and forth for a moment before looking back at Ms. Washington, "If it's no bother, I'd like to take a look at those ankle cuffs as well."

"Sure," Ms. Washington said as she reached for a box of ankle cuffs, opened them, and dumped the cuffs on her desk.

Hitting the winch remote again, Ms. Washington lifted me off the floor another foot, stopping when my feet were about chest high off the ground. "Now you hold real still for me honey."

"Yes ma'am," I said, hung out like laundry on a clothes line.

Ms. Washington buckled a pair of ankle cuffs on me and then locked my ankles together with another double-carabiner lock.

"That's good honey. Now I want you to try as hard as you can to wiggle out for me, okay?"

"Yes ma'am."

I writhed, squirmed, kicked, pulled, and strained against the leather cuffs as hard as I could trying to free my ankles to no avail. The only thing that happened was all my struggling just caused me to twist and sway some more. Finally, after about a minute jerking and writhing to free my ankles, frustrated and exhausted, I gave up.

"Is that the best you can do honey?"

"Yes ma'am. I can't get out."

As I limply hung naked from the ceiling, bound by my wrists and ankles, Janice carefully inspected my ankle cuffs and double carabiner lock.

"You see these cuffs here are padded so they don't bruise your slave girlie none or cut off her circulation much but they're still tight enough that she can't get out of um."

"I see," Janice said.

"Coming down honey," Ms. Washington said as she lowered me; it felt really good for my bare feet to touch the floor again.

"Go ahead and you sit down for me on your mat for me honey," Ms. Washington said as she unstrapped the rope buckle from my wrists."

I sat.

"That's a good girlie, now lay down and put your feet in the air for me."

"Yes ma'am."

The moment I complied, Ms. Washington hooked the rope around my ankle lock and pressed a button on the winch remote.

"Up you go again honey."

"Yahh," I let out a squeal as I was dragged up to the ceiling again, this time by my feet. Outside, I could hear even more excited clamoring and giggling.

"You see, you can lift your little slave girlie here by her ankles just as easily as you can by her wrists."

Ms. Washington gave me another push which started me swaying again, this time in a circular motion.

"Enjoying yourself honey?"

"No ma'am. Can I come back down please?" I begged.

"I like the upside down position a lot better," Ms. Washington said to Janice. "It really gets their attention. You can see it in their faces."

"She really does look more frightened," Janice said.

"Now that we've got your slave girlie all cuffed and strung up, is there anything else you'd like for me to show you?" Ms. Washington asked.

Helplessly swaying back and forth, I nervously gritted my teeth while Janice pondered if she wanted to a test drive something on my ass. As I glance toward the front, my audience looked thrilled, giddy with excitement, hoping to see my ass get warmed up. Although they were mostly men, there was a surprising amount of women were entertaining themselves by watching me get my due.

"A cat-o-nine tails or a paddle perhaps?" Ms. Washington asked.

Watching me rock back and forth like the pendulum to a grandfather clock, Janice contemplated for several seconds before finally coming to a decision.

"No, I think I've made up my mind. I'll take both the ankle and the writs cuffs and two of the locks."

"An excellent choice. Can I interest you in the winch set up as well. It's one of our best sellers. We even have a contractor that'll come out and install it for you."

"Not right now. Maybe later."

"Certainly."

"But I would like for you to throw in a couple of boxes of those doggie biscuits."

"Your slave girlie will really appreciate it," Ms. Washington giggled as she got out two more boxes of doggie biscuits and put them in a bag. "Anything else I can interest you in? A cage, a bridle, or a leash perhaps? We sell a lot of leashes."

"No thanks, I think just the cuffs, the locks, and the biscuits. I'm on a tight budget."

Let's see," Ms. Washington said, totaling the bill as I still dangled upside down from the ceiling, "titling fee $250, registration $250, collar $187.50, tag $250, international data base processing fee $200, lab fee for the DNA $175, a set of wrist and a set of ankle cuffs, $250, tax $1,717 and two large boxes of doggie biscuits, $10, for a total of $3,289.50. Go ahead and text your payment to US.GOV.SLAVE.$ and be sure to include her slave number."

Janice took out her cell phone and texted the money to Ms. Washington. Ms. Washington checked her computer, seemed satisfied, and texted a receipt back to Janice. Still slightly swaying back and forth, my face was beginning to really get flush.

Ms. Washington smiled at Janice, "Congratulations, she's all yours."

"Thanks."

"Any questions?"

"What did I buy?" Janice asked. "What does it really mean to be a slave?"

"In two words, total submission. For the next three years, this girlie here is your property," Ms. Washington grabbed my leg and to stop my swaying. "You literally own her body. She don't have no choice about nothing. As of right now, girlie's mind is just a passenger in your property. Your girlie's not gonna have no privacy, no modesty, no free-time, no morality, no clothes, no choice, or no free will except what you give her."

As I was facing the wrong way, Ms. Washington took my arm and turned me facing toward her.

"Now you really need to pay attention for me honey, this here's important."

"Yes ma'am."

"You can work your girlie, display her, rent her, sell her, paint her, dye her, shave her, or use her for pleasure. You can order your girlie here to do manicures and pedicures for you and everything in between. You can use her for fetish, use her for labor, use her for hire, or use your girlie to lick whatever you want licked, and I do mean whatever. You see, being a slave girlie isn't just a job as it's a lifestyle. You control every detail of her life."

I could feel my blood beginning to pool in my head.

"Let's take sleeping for example, you're gonna control where, when, how, and with whom your girlie sleeps. You can have your girlie sleep on a cot, on a bedroll, on the floor, in your bed, in someone else's bed, in a cell, in a slave closet, in a stable, in a cage, or in a doghouse. She can sleep in pajamas, in a uniform, in lingerie, in her birthday suit, or in chains, the choice is yours and yours alone."

"What happens if she doesn't obey? What can I do?"

"If you slave girlie gets all foolish like, cops herself a little tude, and refuses to obey you, then she's committed a crime and she's gonna get herself another 30 days of slavery plus whatever discipline you take a notion to give her."

"So if she is insubordinate, I get to keep her for another 30 days?"