Tracey's Slave Shop Pt. 03

Emily was a disaster.

It wasn't that she was ineffective as a slave huntress. If anything, the problem was that she was too effective. Specifically, the problem was that for her first capture, she chose the exact woman I least wanted captured.

Emily was in her first year at the Eastfield Girls' Academy, and like most students, she did not think highly of the Director. So, for her first target, she decided to acquire Diana Wilson herself.

"It was easy," Emily told me. "She keeps a jar of Gummy Bears on her desk anyway, so all I had to do was get myself sent to her office, and when she turned her back I slipped a couple into her jar. She was lecturing me about being respectful and lady-like, and I saw her eat a Gummy Bear. It was perfect."

I can only imagine what happened next. No doubt, Emily got bratty, and started ordering her to undress, touch herself, or whatever else her young, perverted mind could think of, and that was all it took. Fortunately, she knew enough to have her get dressed before telling her to drive Emily to the shop. But as soon as they walked in and I met them at the counter, she ordered Diana to strip.

Then she ordered her to bite her own nipple. Then, to stand, silently, while Emily pulled her pubic hair. Girls can be so cruel!

Emily had no way to know that I had recently made a deal with Nancy Evans to rig the next Titalin Club if Nancy would bring me Diana's daughter Beatrice. I thought I had been sending Nancy on an impossible task, which she would fail and allow me to keep Titalin Club honest. Events like these only work if the women participating in them have faith that they're fair.

Even in the unlikely event Nancy had succeeded, I could still have made that work to my advantage, as I could have kept Beatrice as a hostage against Diana, and force Diana to start selling me her 7th year girls who fail exams. That contract would represent a lucrative source of acquisitions -- more than lucrative enough to justify the risk to Titalin Club.

The only task I had given to Nancy was to bring Beatrice into the shop, and now that Diana was here, as my newest slave, that would be easy. All Nancy would need to do was tell Beatrice that her mother was here. Then, I would have to honor my deal with Nancy, even though Beatrice was now useless as a hostage. So, I could potentially lose both Titalin Club and my shot at the Eastfield Girls' Academy contract. The one silver lining in this was that Diana would fetch a good price. I would auction her, and be swamped with bids from former students who would be eager for a chance to have their way with her.

It was a problem, and no easy solution came to mind. So, I put it aside for the moment, doing my best to hide my disappointment from Emily, who, to be fair had no way of knowing any of this.

"Good work," I said to Emily, "let's take her to the back, and I'll show you how to process her."

I don't know what kind of student Emily was at school, but she certainly paid careful attention to what I had to show her. We laid Diana on her back on a stainless steel table, and gave her another, larger dose of Titalin to reinforce her conditioning. Then, we restrained her wrists, ankles, and neck. That last part was not actually necessary, as the Titalin dose we had given Diana coupled with the conditioning Emily had already accomplished meant Diana would do exactly as she was told, but it was standard procedure. We donned protective suits and gloves, and covered her body below her neck with a thick, white cream that is available only to slave shops. It smelled of coconut, but I warned Emily never to touch it with her bare hands.

"It removes all hair, and kills the follicles. Plus, it makes the skin softer and more sensitive, thus more receptive both to sexual stimulation and pain. On top of that, it contains trace amounts of topical Titalin."

"But I thought Titalin only affected you if you ate it," said Emily.

"You HAVE been doing your homework, haven't you," I commented. "And that is generally true with a girl's natural skin, but skin treated with this becomes capable of absorbing Titalin. So it isn't something you want unless you plan on joining Diana here."

"It's so weird, calling her 'Diana,'" commented Emily. "I'm so used to thinking of her as 'Miss Wilson.'"

"Well, thanks to you, she's not going to be 'Miss' anything ever again. Whoever buys her might even rename her, so she may not even be 'Diana' again," I said, as we finished up covering her body in the white cream.

We waited ten minutes, and then pulled out the hose with the shower nozzle, and washed the concoction off. It left her skin as smooth and soft as any baby's, with no signs of irritation. The next step was to put her hair in a cap, and apply the same concoction to her face. This part required care, so I did it myself. It wouldn't do to end up with a slave without eyebrows.

Once that was done, we turned Diana over and did her back. Then, we entered her data into the registration system, and the computer generated a registration code. That code was encoded onto a bar code. I allowed Emily to use the barcode gun to permanently tattoo the code to Diana's buttock.

"What if a slave already has tattoos there?" asked Emily.

"I know what you're getting at," I replied. "There is an urban myth that says if a girl gets her bum tattooed, she can't become a slave because they can't get a barcode there, but that's nonsense. If there's no clear place for a barcode, we just print it on a plastic tag and attach it to a metal ring like this," I picked up a metal ring and showed her.

"Where do you put the ring," asied Emily.

"We pierce the girl's hood, and it hangs there, right next to her clit," I said.

I could see by her reaction that the thought of that made her uncomfortable. Perhaps she was imagining herself, with a piercing THERE. She let it pass.

"What do we do next?" asked Emily.

"What we do next," I said, "is reinforce her conditioning. We need to do that before the Titalin wears off."

I addressed Diana, "Stand up, SLAVE," I ordered. She was visibly turned on, and she stood up.

"Are you Diana Wilson, Director of Eastfield Girls' Academy?"

"Yes," she replied, trembling a bit. I slapped her in the face in response.

"WRONG," I barked. "You are nobody. A slave. A piece of property. A THING."

I paused.

"What are you?" I asked.

"A s-s-s-s-lave." she replied.

"Yes, you are a slave, and you will be sold to the highest bidder. Does that thought excite you? Does it make you a bit randy? Tell the truth," I ordered.

"Yes," she replied, and I slapped her in the face once again.

"From now on, you will address me, and any other woman who is your superior, as 'Mistress,' do you understand?"

"Yes, m-m-m-istress," she stammered.

"That includes this young lady," I indicated Emily. "She is no longer your student. She is superior to you in every way because she is a free woman any you are a slave. A filthy tart."

"Yes, mistress."

"Get on the floor and kiss Emily's feet."

Emily was wearing sandals, and she stood there while her former Headmistress kissed the exposed portions of her feet. Eventually, she said sharply, "Stop kissing my feet and lick the floor."

Diana's reaction was very noticeable at that -- her arousal was easy to see. She licked the floor in front of Emily's feet as if the floor were the object of her lifelong desire.

She was ours. Now, it was only a matter of what to do with her.

Normally, when a slave is acquired, standard procedure is to trade her to a slave shop in a distant location. This is to stop there being any trouble with the slave's friends or family, as also to make sure that in the unlikely event the slave escapes, she is in an unfamiliar area where she is not likely to have any friends who will help her. I, for example, have exchange agreements with slave shops in Ireland and Aberdeen. I would like to exchange slaves to a location even further away, like Japan or America, but unfortunately Female Slavery is not enough of a worldwide phenomina just yet.

You would think I would be able to set up an exchange agreement with Zonga, but unfortunately the supply-demand situation, combined with the taxes and the graft involved renders such an arrangement unprofitable. That is unfortunate, as it would be an ideal place to send newly acquired British slaves to, but it is a reality we live with.

In any case, most of the slaves I acquire get sent away, but there are some exceptions. When one of the key reasons a particular slave is valuable is because of her reputation in the community, it simply does not make sense to exchange her. That was the case with Diana Wilson. She would sell well, not because of her looks, but because of who she was in her former life as a free woman.

As the Director of Eastfield Girls' Academy, she had resisted efforts by many in the community (including me) for the Academy to sell those students who did not pass their exams. Nevertheless, she had been a harsh disciplinarian in other ways, and many of her former pupils would be eager for revenge. And not just girls. She came to the Eastfield Girls' Academy only after she lost had her position as an associate dean at the formerly co-educational Eastfield Technical College when the Governors decided that a female could not be in a position of authority over men.

I decided that she would eventually be auctioned off, right here in my shop, but first I would generate interest in the event by putting her on display for a while. So I shackled her wrists to two chains I had hanging from the ceiling in the center of the showroom, leaving barely enough slack for her feet to touch the floor. As with all of the other slaves on display, I kept her nude, but I put some portable air conditioning units near her, so she would be a bit colder than the rest of the sales floor. That made my other gimmick all the more uncomfortable for her.

I surrounded her with a waist high barrier, so nobody would be able to get close enough to touch her for the time being. But near that barrier, I provided water balloons, so people could throw them at her while she hanged there, nude and shivering. We would have more fun with her as the auction approached, but for the moment this generated a great deal of traffic for the shop.

People from throughout Eastfield crowded into town to see the newly enslaved Director. Some were young men, who made shouted lewd comments about how they were going to get some "head" from the "head," and how they should be throwing cum at her instead of water. Generally, they aimed their water balloons at Diana's breasts, whose sensitivity had been increased enhanced by the skin treatment. A few aimed their throw between her legs.

There were quite a few girls who came as well, giggling while they taunted her, calling her an "old hag," and joking about how her breasts were supposedly sagging, and her arse was supposedly wrinkled. In reality, Diana was as attractive as most of the girls I had on display in my showroom, but the girls were exaggerating simply for the sake of being cruel. Girls will be girls.

I was also interested to see a group of women, roughly the same age as Diana, throwing balloons at her. One woman's balloons seemed to be a bit heavier than the others, and after taking another look I could see that those balloons were filled, not with cold water, but some sort of syrup.

I pulled the woman aside and asked to have a word with her in my office. Once inside, I motioned her to sit.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," I began, "but I am curious. Exactly what is in those balloons you are throwing."

"Maple syrup," she answered. "I was thinking of throwing some dirt, or some feathers next. The syrup would help them stick."

"You are creative," I mused. "I'll give you that. Do you have some sort of relationship with this girl, or are you just having a bit of fun today?"

"I'm one of the lecturers at Eastfield Girls' Academy. Winifred Rogers." She extended her hand.

"Nice to meet you," I shook it.

"I came here with some of the girls in my class today. We had a bit of a Creativity Day -- some of the girls came up with different things we could do to the old Director."

"I'll tell you what," I said, "as long as you promise not to damage the merchandise, later today I can let some of your girls have exclusive access to her for a bit. I'd be quite interested in what sorts of things you come up with."

"That would be wonderful," said Winifred. I could see the excitement in her eyes, and the ideas racing through her head.

"Tell me," I began, changing the subject slightly, "how do you feel about the enslavement of students who fail their exams?"

"Oh, I think that is a dreadful idea," said Winifred, "it needs to begin far sooner than exams. Some girls are simply not suited for life as a free woman, and it is simply a waste of resources to try and reform them. We also need to be far more liberal in our use of alternative punishments."

"What sorts of punishments?" I asked, intrigued.

"I hear some Academies deal with girls who misbehave by making them remain nude all day, even at home, for 24 or 48 hours. Of course, that is most effective at co-educational institutions. At an Girls' Academy school, corporal punishment is frequently the best option. We have an old whipping post in the front garden that we ought to start using again. Of course, our Director would not allow any of these things."

"Fortunately," I replied, "she is no longer the Director. Perhaps things will improve under her replacement."

"Let us hope," said Winifred, "In the meantime, I really do need to get back to my girls."

"I'll walk you out," I said, and together we left the office and walked out onto the sales floor. There, I saw Emily, who walked up to us.

"Hi Miss Rogers!" greeted Emily happily, "it is so nice to see you here. Would you like a Gummy Bear?" Emily was so sweet and innocent looking that, at that moment, if I did not know what she was up to I would have accepted a Gummy Bear from her without a second thought. Fortunately for Winifred, I knew these Gummy Bears were laced with Titalin because I had given them to Emily. Even more fortunately, I had plans for Winifred that did not involve her becoming a slave -- at least, not just yet.

I intervened. "Perhaps, some other time," I interrupted, frowning a warning at her. Emily, with her damn Gummy Bears, was the last person I wanted to see at that particular moment.

Actually, never mind... she was the second-to-last person I wanted to see. The last person I wanted to see walked into the shop just as I had rescued Winifred from Emily's mechaniations.

It was Nancy Evans, with a smug grin on her face, who had brought Diana's daughter Beatrice with her. I had promised Nancy that I would rig the next Titalin Club if she would bring Beatrice into the shop. I had thought that I had given Nancy an impossible task, but since Emily managed to enslave Diana, Nancy's task became easy. All she had to do was tell Beatrice that her mother was in trouble, and give her a ride.

I had also hoped that, even in the unlikely event Nancy did manage to bring Beatrice into the shop, I could then use Beatrice as a hostage against Diana. But now that Diana was a slave, and therefore no longer Director of Eastfield Girls' Academy, Beatrice was useless as a hostage. On top of all that, now I had to follow through on my promise to Nancy and rig the next Titalin Club. If word of that got out (and Nancy is practically incapable of keeping her mouth shut), both Titalin Club and any other scheme I might dream up would be ruined.

Nancy whispered something to Beatrice, which prompted Beatrice to walk right up to me and, without warning, slap me in the face.

"How DARE you treat my mother like that!" ranted Beatrice, "Look at her -- hanging there, NAKED like some piece of meat. You take her down right now."

She lifted her hand again preparing to slap me, but I grabbed her wrist before she could connect. With a conscious effort, I spoke to her calmly.

"She was brought here as a slave," I began, "and there is nothing I can do about that. Even if I were to release her -- and I won't -- she would be no good as a free woman anymore. She is completely conditioned, and no matter what happens to her, she will spend the rest of her life in slavery. I would advise you to accept that, unless you would like to join her."

"Yeah, I'll BET you'd like that, wouldn't you!" exclaimed Beatrice.

If I could, I would have ringed for Betty and Maxine right then and had Beatrice injected with Titalin and processed, but the law does not allow me to enslave a woman just for annoying me. At the same time, I couldn't have her standing there in public yelling at me either.

"Would you like to come back to my office and discuss this?" I asked. Some privacy might help here.

"Hell no! I'm not going anywhere with you! I am staying right here until I get to the bottom of this. Now, you say someone 'brought' her here. Who the hell did that?"

I pointed to Emily. "That girl right over there."