Tracey's Slave Shop Pt. 05

Emily stood by the door silently and let the girls examine the devices in the room. They clearly did not see what their function was, but their curiosity was aroused, and they whispered theories to one another. Meanwhile, Emily activated an intercom near the door, and summoned Beatrice to the room. Beatrice was the daughter of Diana, the former Headmistress of Eastfield Girls' Academy. She had become a slave after Emily had defeated her in a Slavery Wrestling match, and as yet I had not traded her, so she was still in the shop. I was not surprised that, given her pick of girls to use for demonstrations, she should choose Beatrice. Had the outcome of that wrestling match been different, Beatrice would have been merciless.

Beatrice entered the room, and Emily commanded her to lie, face down, on a leather table in the center of one of the machines. Beatrice did so, straddling the table with one thigh on either side. There was a set of holes in the upper portion of the table that were positioned perfectly for Beatrice's breasts to fall through, and as her arms hung down from her shoulders, they easily fit into groves in the side of the machine. Emily activated the device, and suddenly shackles for Beatrice's wrists and ankles secured Beatrice to the machine, and the table started moving. The back lifted Beatrice's rear up, and a lubricated, silicone dildo extended toward Beatrice's pussy from behind. It filled her up, and expanded. Then, it started slowly vibrating.

"Oh my God," said one of the girls, "it's a Fucking Machine!"

"I didn't know those things were real," said the other. Meanwhile, the machine moved around, while suction cups extended to Beatrice's nipples.

"That must be a wild ride!" said the first girl.

"Would you like to try it?" asked Emily.

"I don't know," said the second girl, "is it safe?"

"Girls from the University come all the time to use these," said Emily.

The girls continued to watch, as Beatrice moaned in obvious pleasure.

"Of course, if it looks too intense for you..." began Emily.

"No, we'll do it!" interjected the first girl. The second girl nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Very good. Now, we have a choice -- would you like the simple experience, or would you prefer the intense experience?"

"Intense," they both said, almost simultaneously. I switched the monitor off.

The difference between the "basic" and the "intense" experience on those machines was that on the intense setting, the artificial penis would eventually ejaculate inside the girl riding it. It was said to produce an unbelievable level of sexual euphoria, but it was also a one-way ticket to slavery, since the "cum" contained a large amount of Titalin.

A short time later, Emily met me back in the office, and we talked.

"I was pleased with the way you handled those two American girls who came into the shop today," I said. "You did a superb job acquiring them."

"Thank you," replied Emily, "the girls were easy. It was almost as if they were trying to become slaves."

"Many girls are like that, once you tap into their natural, primal instincts," I said. "You seem to have a knack for that."

"The problem," said Emily, "is I am a bit concerned about my own primal instincts. That boy Blake -- arrogant as he was and pushy as he was, he turned me on a bit."

I nodded. "You are afraid that someday, some bloke will come into the shop, and he'll be so handsome and suave,"

"... and arrogant," Emily put in.

I grinned. "... and arrogant, that you'll end up with a barcode on your bum."

"I'm sure it would never come to that," said Emily.

"Of course," I said. "That is a problem any woman in this business must face. Men can simply shag the inventory, but for us, when we get randy we must resort to other measures to clear our heads." I opened a desk drawer, pulled out my vibrator, and showed it to Emily.

Emily looked shocked -- and understandably. It was illegal for free women to masturbate -- if one was ever caught, she could be enslaved immediately. Although vibrators were available on the black market, the only reason I had access to them because of the shop. The prohibition on self-pleasuring, and the social taboo against it, was a big part of the reason our fucking machines were so popular.

"I know that growing up, you were probably told it was wrong, or that it was something only sluts did, given what we do we have to be realistic. We are girls, and girls have needs. You can manage your own needs, or someone will do it for you."

"Where do you... " Emily's voice trailed off. She could not bring herself to express the thought.

"In the office," I replied, "though that is not an option for you. You can borrow a vibrator from the supply room, and wherever you use it, make sure nobody sees you."

Emily's face was red -- she clearly did not want to discuss such an embarrassing topic any further. I changed the subject.

"Anyway," I continued, "I have a task for you that I believe may represent another chance for you to demonstrate your talents. Elizabeth Thompson, who is the wife of Edward Thompson, Vice President of Accounting at ABC Insurance, will be looking for a part-time child minder. She wants a free woman, rather than a slave, and she has asked your Headmistress, Miss Rogers, if she would recommend one of her students. Since Miss Rogers owes her position to us, she will likely be happy to recommend a girl of our choosing, and that girl could then... "

"... slip Elizabeth a Gummy Bear?" interjected Emily.

"I was imagining something a bit more subtle, but that is the general idea."

"I am sure I would enjoy that, but I don't think any woman would trust me to be a childminder," replied Emily.

"No," I agreed, "they wouldn't. But if any of your friends at Eastfield wanted to be a slave huntress, you could give her a bit of training."

Emily nodded, catching on. "And who wants us to enslave this woman, anyway?"

"We were hired by a man called David Jennings."