Slave Yoga Ch. 03: Slave Naked

"Well, well, well!" Suzie said, chuckling as she stepping off the elevator and kneeling down in front of my cage. "What do we have here? Hear any good lawyer jokes lately?" she said, grinning broadly.

Smiling her most devilish smile, Suzie reached through the bars of my cage and playfully wiggled my nose. "It looks like someone accidentally got herself marked for shipment to Roman House! The question is, what do we do with you now?"

Stark naked and gagged in a slave cage with my hands cuffed behind my back I could do nothing but look up at her with pleading eyes.

Although I've never been into women, from the vantage point of my cage Suzie looked like an all-powerful Goddess to me. Suzie was impeccably dressed in her carefully tailored business suit while I was naked and cuffed in a slave cage. As a lawyer who specialized in slave law it would be easy enough for her to push me through the system all the way to the auction block. It terrified me, but strangely enough, also left me terribly aroused!

The scientific explanation was simple enough. I was not, of course, a lesbian, or "slave hot." I was a free woman, after all. I knew the wetness in my pussy was not excitement at the thought that Suzie might enslave me, or use me to pleasure her, but merely an empathic reaction to the emotions that an actual slave girl would have in my situation. Even as I squeezed my thighs together and imagined Suzie ordering me to pleasure her with my mouth I knew intellectually that this perverse lesbian fantasy was professional empathy, nothing more.

At this point one of the oafs from the mailroom wheeled in an enormous crate of overnight envelopes, providing a needed delay as the gum popping delivery girl worked with him to get the envelopes scanned. Suzie used the time to lord it over me.

"Poor little Tracy, cuffed, gagged, and caged! Teacher's pet! Always showing off, always having to be the best. You don't look so clever now, do you?" she said, laughing.

I whimpered into my gag as Suzie stroked my hair through the bars like I was a puppy she was thinking of buying.

Suzie rose, giving me a wonderful view of her Gucci shoes and black pencil skirt as she considered my fate. "Of course there is the technical matter of your legal status, but I can sort that out easily enough. I could have my assistant run the paperwork over to a Judge this afternoon, and Roman House would be delighted to take care of the rest — for a juicy commission, of course. I could burn a brand on that teasing ass of yours with a flick of my pen."

Suzie's threat to have me branded excited, terrified, and yes, surprised me. I knew that the slave girls despised me for constantly showing them up, and the free women resented the extra attention I got from Master John and Master Mark. However I had always supposed that Suzie was my ally, and had only my best interests at heart. Did having me naked in a cage at her law office cause her to view me in a professional capacity, like the other livestock she handled all day? I was suddenly worried that Suzie, unaware of the Stanford Prison Experiment and the other psychological experiments I was schooled in, might not know when to stop. However all I could do was squirm helplessly as she toyed with me like a cat playing with a trapped mouse.

"I think we'll start with a slave grading," Suzie purred. "Humiliating and degrading, I'm afraid, and more than a bit invasive. However it will give me a good idea of what sort of price that hot slave pussy of yours might fetch on the block."

Slave pussy? I stiffened at the phrase. I was wet, and excited, but that was purely intellectual. Only slave girls were "slave hot."

Turning to her assistant Suzie said, "They have a slave grading special this week, don't they? Half off?"

"No Miss," her assistant replied. "Two for one. Of course your calendar is free, if you want to get graded with her."

Suzie's countenance immediately switched from playfulness to shock. Her assistant seemed casual and matter-of-fact, but I could see just the hint of a smile.

Suzie, however, was not amused. Looking around she assured herself that no one had overheard her assistant's joke. Fortunately the receptionist was on the phone and the delivery girl and the mailroom dolts were just finishing their scans. Suzie's secret was safe, for now.

Much to my surprise Suzie seemed genuinely rattled. Now she looked at me with concern, and even a bit of sympathy. Turning to her assistant she said, "Get the slave stink washed off her and then get her dressed. Call me when she's ready and I'll meet her in the lobby."

I watched Suzie's expensive high heels click down the hallway and disappear around the corner.

I was free! Or was I? I was taken off the delivery girl's dolly but left naked in the elevator lobby for several minutes until the mail room oaf and Suzie's assistant returned with a handcart to haul me away. The mailroom oaf - slow and non-verbal as he was - attempted to flirt with her, but she ignored him entirely, contenting herself by using her break time from Suzie to play on her phone.

I was wheeled down to the basement and outside to the loading dock. I was very conscious of my nudity and the gruff, muscular men staring at my naked body as my cage was wheeled past them, but with my hands cuffed behind my back there was little I could do.

"Ship out?" the burly man outside asked as we burst into the sun.

"No, clean up," Suzie's assistant replied, not even bothering to look up from her phone.

The burley man retrieved a bucket and scrub brush as Suzie's assistant dropped the key to my cage in the mailroom idiot's doltish hand. Unlocking my cage he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and roughly pulled me out of the cage.

The water from the hose was FREEZING and I screamed like a banshee as it hit my breasts. The laughing man washed me with a high pressure soap gun that dispensed ice cold water with a mix of industrial detergent, with a spray powerful enough to wash the loading dock and blast the caked off mud off the wheels of the semis.

If he had hit me with full force I'm sure I would have been blasted across the dock, but he scrubbed me hard enough between my legs and over my breasts and belly that the scent of my excitement was no longer a problem. As I turned the spray was powerful enough to actually work its way between my butt cheeks - I was literally cleaned inside and out, albeit in the most humiliating and industrial manner imaginable.

The mailroom oaf came with a rough bristle scrub brush and bending me forward he washed under my arms and between my legs. When she saw that he was working his fat little fingers into me a bit too enthusiastically Suzie's assistant called to him "Finish her up" and for the first time that day I was grateful she was present.

After I had been scrubbed down like a dirty sow my hands were at last uncuffed and I took off my gag.

"You bitch!" I shouted at the assistant. "Your ass is going to be so FIRED."

"Not by you and not by your little friend, Suzie either," she said, tossing me a bag with my clothes. "She's slave hot and she knows it. I got so much shit on her she's lucky she's not in a collar already."

The foreman tossed me a roll of paper towels which I used to dry myself the best that I could. After getting dressed the assistant, still playing on her phone, led me back upstairs and dumped me in the lobby with a faux polite, "Have a nice day!"

Ha-ha. Bitch!

Suzie appeared about 10 minutes later as I was still trying to comb out my wet hair. Her manner was friendly and she made no mention of the bizarre lesbian power trip that had happened in the elevator lobby a few minutes before where it felt like she might actually enslave me. Instead, she Ubered a car and a few minutes later we were walking back through the front doors of our health club.

I had been through so much that morning that at first it was difficult for me to focus on the task at hand. Fortunately for me Suzie was prepared to do the thinking for both of us as she implemented the plan we had hatched that morning.

"If you want to do the Slave Yoga naked getting TO the workout room is easy enough," she explained. "That cement access hallway we use as our shortcut also connects to the slave pen entrance and you can simply wait for the slave girls to arrive and enter with them. However the door locks behind us, so getting back to the locker room means you'll need to take the long way — all the way through the club, naked."

I knew I could probably get away a long walk naked through the club, maybe. Suzie was a good talker and if anyone challenged why a naked slave girl was going into the free woman's locker room Suzie and my other friends could vouch for me. However something about walking through the club naked, surrounded by free women and with all those male eyes ogling me made me decidedly uncomfortable.

Fortunately the ever-resourceful Suzie had an alternate plan, and she quickly led me down to the entrance of the slave pens to put our plan in motion.

At the entrance to the slave pens we were greeted by the slave guard, a brawny thug with a Taser gun and a slave whip on his belt who seemed a bit surprised to see two pretty free women standing at his gate.

"Are you doing a pick up?" the guard said.

Suzie laughed. "No, I don't have a slave, at least not yet," she said, casting me a sly aside. "But we do have a problem you can help us solve. My friend Tracy is a free woman but she wants to do her Slave Yoga classes in the nude, and since she doesn't want to stroll stark naked through the club to get back to the locker room we were wondering if you'd let her shower with the other slave girls."

"Why don't you just bring something for her to wear in the work out room?" he asked. "She can get dressed there."

"No, we want her to leave naked with the other slave girls, so the men watching don't realize she's a free woman, and they think she's just another slave."

"Performing naked for a bunch of men is humiliating. For a free woman," I explained. "Plus having the clothes there — even as a backup - wouldn't be the same. Slave girls HAVE to perform nude, no matter who's watching."

As I heard the words come out of my mouth I wasn't sure they made any sense or I even understood what I was saying but fortunately the slave wrangler, nodding, seemed to understand completely.

"Sorry, but we don't let free women into the slave girls locker room," he said. One naked slave pussy looks pretty much like another. It's too confusing."

"I'm not slave pussy. Even naked you can see that."

The man looked at me like I was from Mars. I felt quite insulted, but fortunately Suzie interceded to save the day.

Reaching into her purse Suzie extracted a thick wad of $100 bills. "That's why we need to do something to make ourselves memorable," she said. On my little graduate student's salary I watched in awe as Suzie slowly counted out several thousand dollars of bribe money onto the slave mongers desk.

"Feel free to share that with anyone else, and you'll get more next month if you do your job well."

"The money isn't your only bonus" Suzie said. "You'll get to see a free woman 'slave naked." I blushed nervously as the guard laughed and looked me up-and-down in an appraising, professional way professional.

Suzie and the guard shook hands and the deal was done. I was grateful to Suzie for taking the lead, but it felt odd, having my lesbian friend be so much in charge of me.

I struggled to wrap my head around what Suzie had just done. In two days I was going to be showering naked with a hundred other slave girls and the arrangements had been made with me barely saying a word.

When I got back to my apartment I immediately stripped off and practiced in front of the mirror. The morning's events with Suzie had left me dazed and confused but I didn't have time to process what had happened beyond simply recording the events in this journal. Soon I would be performing naked for Suzie and the men and I knew I had to look my best.

4-19

To say that the other women in my group were delighted when Suzie explained our plan would be an understatement. A number of them confessed that they too had fantasized about what it might be like to perform naked. Everyone congratulated me on being the group's "pioneer" and I basked in the attention and admiration of the other women.

Despite their encouragement I felt a bit awkward walking with my friends down the corridor naked. I didn't feel safe standing entirely naked in a cement corridor with the door to the slave pens only a few feet away so Suzie agreed to wait with me until the slave sluts arrived.

When the metal doors to the slave pens burst open and the naked, chattering slave girls filed out they were stunned to see me standing there naked.

"Were you enslaved, Mistress?" one of them asked.

"Oh, how wonderful for you! You are our sister."

I simply stared at her, mouth agape. How could being enslaved be wonderful?

Since I was unable to speak, Suzie explained I was still free but simply taking my training to the next level. "You're all going to have to work that much harder, now that your one advantage is gone, and Tracy gets to do her training in the nude like you."

Some of the slave girls were clearly shocked and the rest didn't seem particularly happy. Sunfire looked like she was sucking on a lemon. Her unhappiness and obvious jealousy delighted me; slave girls like Sunfire are naturally competitive and vain!

As befitting a free woman Suzie strolled out first with the other naked slave girls following her. I admit I hesitated. I was about to be walking out into a public place completely naked. Fortunately the girls behind me pressing me forward and the danger of remaining naked in the hallway by myself made my reticence a mute point and before I could turn back I had left the darkness of the hallway and entered the bright florescent lights of the exercise room.

I had walked through that door and into the exercise room a hundred times but now, entering naked, everything seemed new. The wooden floor felt cold on my bare feet; the florescent lights seemed mercilessly bright and revealing. Worse, the picture window with the leering men seemed enormous, and the crowd, now that I was the one who was naked, seemed larger than it had ever seemed before.

I had often heard the term "slave naked", a type of exposure that far exceeded anything a free woman could understand. Walking stark naked across the room and feeling the men's eyes ogling my bouncing breasts and pussy I understood what "slave naked" really meant.

The peculiar psychology of the situation fascinated me. I was, of course, a free woman. However the men in the window did not know that, and I got the extra visual attention that a "new girl" got, couple with the extra attention afforded me by my statuesque beauty and highly toned fitness.

For the first time I experienced what it was like to have fully clothed free men stare and gawk at my naked body as if I was merely an object that could be purchased for their. I was mortified, of course, and my face went flush with shame, even as I thrust out my breasts and held out my chin and swung my hips in a way that I knew would maximize their viewing pleasure. I was playing a role and I knew that I must play it or risk discovery, no matter what the cost to my self-esteem. The peculiar thing was that even as my pride in my academic and intellectual achievements disintegrated under their lustful gaze I found it replaced with a inexplicable pride in how much attention my naked body got me.

Trying to blend in and stand out at the same time I filed out with the other slave girls, taking my place a few feet down from Sunfire in the front row, facing the window where the horny men had gathered to watch us.

I was pleased to see that Master John was giving the class, and he began with some basic stretching and breathing exercises. I was surprised that Master John said nothing to me, but the riddle was solved when I overheard his exchange with Suzie.

"Is Tracy all right?" Master John said. "She never misses a class."

"She's fine," Suzie said cryptically, determined not to spoil the fun. "In fact, I think she might show up any minute."

I smiled. He didn't know! Used to seeing me in my leotard, Master John hadn't recognized me with my clothes off.

Not getting the joke Master John continued. "Slave paces," he shouted out. "You're on the block now ladies. Show the buyers what your worth."

I felt slave flush as I permitted myself a quick glance at the men in the window leering down at me. Old, fat, bald, rich, poor, young, old. It didn't matter. I could feel all of their lustful eyes boring into my naked body.

Remembering my training I forced them from my mind and concentrated on the perfection of my poses.

A part of me was deeply relieved. My biggest fear was that my lie would be discovered and the men would recognize me as being a free woman. I had worried that such a revelation was inevitable; after all, the men had seen me exercising in my leotard with the other free women for the last several weeks. Surely they would recognize me! The only thing more embarrassing than being slave naked in front of a mob of drooling males would be the added humiliation of having the men catch me, and being exposed as a naked free woman performing as if she were a lowly pleasure slut.

Much to my surprise no one seemed to notice me, at least not in the way that I had feared. The men's eyes were focused on my breasts and bottom and legs, not on my face. I felt my flush deepen as I realized the men were not thinking of anything deeper or more sophisticated than the beauty of my body and what it might be like to have me.

In the bizarre psychodynamics of the moment I felt a strange surge of pride even as my humiliation washed over me in waves. There were two-dozen naked women in the room yet the vast majority of male attention was focused on me.

I was the best. I didn't need to look at the men to see how well I was doing for I could feel it inside of me. The drooling men did not matter. They were disgusting pigs and I would never allow any of them to touch me. I was in charge, not them. Nothing mattered but the perfection in my movements as I lithely twisted through a series of complex moves.

I was perfect. I could see it in the mounting anger in Sunfire's pretty face. I twisted and turned, gasping in pleasure at my movements as my empathetic pseudo "slave juices" began to flow.

I was so caught up in my transcendence and the growing heat between my thighs that I didn't notice Master John until his boot and the little piece of slave bacon appeared in front of my face.

"Excellent, slave girl. You are wet, and slave hot. What is your name?"

My face to the floor I extended my tongue and teasingly picked up the disgusting piece of animal renderings off the floor. It was tough and chewy, part of an animal hoof, I guessed, but it was meat of a sort and thus a treat for a slave girl. Moving my face forward I licked the end of John's work boot gratefully as I rolled the chewy slave scrap in my mouth in an attempt to soften it enough to chew.

"Tracy, Master John," I said, licking my lips sensuously as I raised my head and revealed my face fully to him for the first time.

Master John was nothing if not unflappable. He was strict, but in all of the sessions I had never seem him look surprised, or shocked, or upset. Now he was all three. Dropping his slave whip he literally fell backwards, nearly tripping on his own feet.

"TRACY?" he said. "What the FUCK?"

Everyone in the class, slave and free alike, laughed heartily as our always-in-control trainer's persona crumbled into dust and blew away in a hurricane of feminine laughter. When the shock wore off, John laughed too, and smiled broadly as first the free women, then the slaves, applauded my grand and wondrous jest!