Slave Yoga Ch. 04: Slave Shaming

"I think she's going to come!" Tad said.

"Oh, you don't want to come, Julie!" Professor Crush teased. "If you come that will confirm that you are a slave, and we'll have to brand your cute little ass and sell you!"

"No, please...stop! I don't want to come! I'm not a slave! I'm not a slave!"

But although Julie's mouth protested her innocence Julie's body betrayed her: even as she protested her innocence she humped her slave girl mistresses fingers like the randiest of slave sluts.

"YES! YES! No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Julie's final "No" was a long, primal scream of pleasure and agony as she rocked through a shuddering slavegasm, sealing her fate forever. The room burst into a round of laughter and light applause.

On a purely technical level I admired Professor Crush's approach. She hadn't merely enslaved Julie, she had slave shamed her by revealing her private sexual fantasies and contrasting them with the public morality expected of a so-called "good girl", internalizing her slave girl persona.

"Good girls" didn't rub their hot pussies while they read dirty stories on Literotica. Thus Julie was a "bad girl" and bad girls needed to be punished. Stripping Julie naked and masturbating to her orgasm in front of her jeering friends became the "moral" act, and a protection of public decency, for it led to Julie's unmasking and the collaring of a dirty piece of slave meat who, if allowed to run loose, might corrupt the public morals.

It was actually an act of kindness. I knew that the intensity of the slave shaming that Julie had experienced, and her guilt over her supposed "crimes" that had led to her collaring, would make her slavery easier to accept. She would be able to accept her collaring, and her reduction to mere livestock, and even her butt branding more easily if she realized that it was a just punishment for her prurient nature.

In addition my presence allowed me to fully examine my own experience with Slave Shaming. I contrasted Julie being masturbated in front of her class to my being masturbated in front of my students. As with Julie their humiliating comments had shamed me deeply, but they had also spurred me on to the most intense orgasms of my life. As with Julie, the shame I had felt had made the next level of enslavement seem more acceptable to me, even desirable. That night in bed I had masturbated myself to sleep imagining myself on the auction block, being forced to bend and spread as friends and strangers and friend-emies alike bid on my naked body.

More surprising, in my fantasy there was a brazier heating red-hot irons to the right of the auction block. Did I want to be branded? Of course not! I was not, after all a slave. Nonetheless because of the psychology of the situation I found myself admiring the butt brands of the other girls in the shower, and looking at my bottom in the mirror, wondering what mark my master might choose for me. Fortunately unlike Julie I was not a slave slut, so my longing for the collar and iron remained purely academic. However after seeing Julie's reaction and comparing it to my own, I understood how someone who watched me masturbate myself under and repeatedly orgasm under the crack of Master John's whip might indeed mistake me for a girl much in need of a slave collar.

The tour continued, with Professor Crush leading most of the girls and about half of the boys onto the offices for a rather timely discussion of the paperwork required to register a new slave girl. Several of the boys stayed behind, however, to have some fun with Julie before she was collared and registered so that her slave training could begin. My last sight of Julie was her kneeling on the table while she sucked off Tad, while her friend Professor Larson pumped his thick manhood slowly in-and-out of her hot slave pussy.

"Will she be branded?" I asked Professor Crush. "You told me I'd witness a real branding."

"I told you that you MIGHT experience a real branding," Professor Crush said. "Would you spare this poor girl nothing? Slave girls can be so cruel to their sisters."

Professor Crush was smiling and I knew she was teasing me about being a slave girl but I very much wanted to see Julie branded so I pressed on. "But you PROMISED," I whined, stamping my feet for good measure.

Professor Crush reached out and brushed my hair away from neck so she could lean in close and whisper in my ear. "Don't worry, little Tracy. Soon your curiosity will be satisfied and you will know exactly what it's like to be branded. THAT is a promise."

With that she laughed and we resumed our tour.

As she intended her words both thrilled and chilled me. Anxious to see what Agatha's monogram might look like on my naked ass I had already paid to have it transformed into a rubber ink stamp. While it might not look exactly the same as a brand it would give me a close approximation.

But who could help me apply the stamp? Perhaps if I called Suzie she might help.

The mood of the students was quite cheerful and in a classic example of group-think no one expressed any sympathy for Julie whatsoever. However there was some discussion among the young women about the Professor's ability to monitor their web searches.

"Can she really read all our searches, and e-mails?" one girl asked another.

"We all use University issued laptops, and the University web, dumb-dumb," another girl replied. "The University can see anything they want."

A number of the young women seemed quite unhappy about this. I could tell they were experiencing a state of "shallow empathy", meaning while they weren't particularly concerned with Julie's plight a number of them were wondering if they might not also be perilously close to enslavement themselves. Perhaps I was over-reading their reaction, or projecting my psychology onto them, but remember that my sample size consisted of young women who were interested enough in slavery to visit a slave processing center.

I thought of all of the young women on the Internet, and wondered how many respectable young women had "researched" female slavery, and had read a very naughty story on Literotica that might someday result in their enslavement?