Tracey's Slave Shop Pt. 07

It took very little time before our investment in installing Cindy Shepard as the Accounts Receivable manager of ABC Insurance began to bear fruit, as the very next day a busty woman named Zoe, with long, curly black hair showed up at the shop with an envelope. Inside that envelope, on ABC Insurance letterhead, was an official notice notifying her that her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and instructing her to report to this address. The notice was signed by Cindy Shepard.

"I don't understand," said Zoe, between sobs. "I show up to work every day on time, I am good at my job, and I've done nothing wrong. I didn't deserve to be sacked -- honestly I didn't."

"It makes no difference what you believe you deserve," I said, "you had just better make yourself valuable to me."

In retrospect, I believe Zoe was probably telling the truth when she said she did not deserve to be sacked. She was so humble and obedient while we were processing her that we ended up using very little Titalin, as it simply was not necessary. Further, it emerged that she was a very good and efficient at secretarial work. So, for the time being, we put her to work at the front counter rather than sending her to a remote slave shop or displaying her in the showroom.

It was Zoe who was behind the front counter when Faith arrived, and it was she who summoned me to the counter to deal with her. Like any really efficient secretary, Zoe was good at understanding which situations not to bother me with, and which situations truly require my personal attention. Faith was a solid memory of the latter category.

"I am Tracey Smith," I said, one I had emerged from the back. "How may I help you?"

"I am in trouble. There are people chasing me, and I need your help," replied Faith.

That seemed strange. If a woman needed help, a slave shop seemed like the last place she would go. Something didn't seem right here.

"Why don't you come with me back to my office," I said. Then I turned to Zoe and said, "have Betty meet us there."

Once the three of us were in the privacy of the office, Faith told her story.

"When I was a teenager, I was one of the girls who led the protests against the Female Slavery Act," said Faith. "They rounded most of up, but some of us got away. They have my picture, and every copper in England is looking for me. I need you to help hide me."

"What gave you the idea that this, or any other slave shop, would help hide a fugitive? I should take you into custody and turn you in to the police," I said.

"I talked to Rhonda Patil, and she said you'd help me," said Faith.

"That," I said, "was precisely the wrong name to drop. I no longer do favors for Rhonda Patil. And you, sweetcakes, are not leaving here with your panties. Betty, take her into custody," I ordered.

"WAIT!" exclaimed Faith. She bolted out her chair and to the side of my desk, and fell down on her knees. "Don't turn me in to the police. They'll interrogate me, and I don't think I'll be able to resist. It doesn't matter what happens to me, but I can't do that to my friends."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, motioning Betty to stand down.

"There was a group of us who were at the protest, and we've been on the lamb. If they interrogate me, they'll find out where all my mates are," said Faith.

"What's that to me?" I asked, getting ready to signal Betty to proceed.

Faith thought fast, "look, you don't have the Eastfield Police contract, right?"

Every week, the Eastfield Police arrested women for a wide variety of offenses, from shoplifting to jaywalking to loitering, and most of them were sold at police auctions. I would have loved to have had the contract to handle those sales, but as yet I did not have that sort of influence with the local political leaders.

"No," I said.

"Then," said Faith, "if the police catch me, I will most likely be sold at public auction, and you will not benefit in any way."

"But," Faith continued, "if YOU enslave me, you will probably end up sending me to Belfast, where the police will never find me."

What she said made sense, in more ways than one. Leaving aside what she thought I would do with her, there is a loophole in the Female Slavery Act that few people were aware of: Once a woman becomes a slave, her legal personhood ceases and she instead becomes a piece of property. The side effect of this is that any criminal record she may have had as a free woman becomes ancient history. A slave could no more be charged with a crime than could a table or a bicycle. Thus, a woman could, theoretically, commit any crime she wanted and "get away with it" by volunteering herself for slavery, if you could call being enslaved for life getting away with something.

"Very well," I said crisply. "Stand up and take off your clothes."

She stood up and, reluctantly, started to unbutton her blouse.

I stood up and slapped her in the face.

"The correct response is 'Yes Mistress,'" I said. "And when you are told to do something, you are to do it immediately and quickly. No Dawlding."

"Yes, mistress," replied Faith, who undressed more quickly. I turned to Betty.

"Process her and put her in the Solitary Confinement cell," I said.

"Yes Mistress," replied Betty. Betty picked up a riding crop and used it to encourage Faith to expedite her disrobing. Once that was complete, she ordered Faith to pick up her clothes and hold them in front of her, as she used the riding crop, again, to encourage her as they walked out of my office and toward the Processing Room.

A short time after they left, John Chambers finally returned my call.

"Tracey, John Chambers here," said Mr. Chambers. "Make this quick, would you. I got a massage coming to me in a bit."

"I suspect your masseuse will wait for you," I said dryly. "In any event, this is important. We have an inspection coming up."

"An inspection? What of it? What's that to me?" asked John.

"Plenty," I said. "Your name is on the paperwork. If this shop gets cited, you will be on the hook."

John signed. "All right," he said. "I'm holding the ball on this, I'll just have to pick it up and run with it. I'll see you first thing."

"What!?" I wasn't expecting that.

"The inspector will expect me to be running the place. That means I need go pop down there and run the place. I'll see you first thing." He hung up.

That was not what I wanted at all. I had been planning on handling the inspection myself, possibly by distracting the inspector with some of my more skilled and nubile slave girls. I was calling Mr. Chambers simply to warn him. But, unfortunately, since he was on record as the managing partner he was entitled to come to the shop whenever he pleased. I just hoped he would not say or do anything to make a mess of things, and that he would leave once the inspection was over.

The following morning, when I came into the shop and went back to my office, I found John Chambers sitting in my chair. He was leaned back, and he had his feet up on my desk.

"Tracey," he said, "Go grab some of your girls and get this place cleaned up, would you? It's gotta be spotless when the inspector gets here."

The arrogance of the man! Just barging in, sitting in my office, and now he was ordering me, in my own shop, to clean. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"Of course," I said calmly. "Right away." I opened the door to leave.

"Sir," he said sharply.

I signed. "Yes, sir."

I could not believe how presumptuous he was to give me orders in this manner in my own shop. To be honest, his demanding manner turned me on a bit, but unfortunately there was nothing I could do about it. Normally, I would go into my office where, behind closed doors, I would use by vibrator. Unfortunately, John Chambers had commandeered my office, so that was not an option.

I went to the counter and, from there, placed a call to Winifred, the Headmistress of Eastfield Girls' Academy.

"Hello, Winifred. Listen, I have some odd jobs that need done here at the shop, and I want to keep the slaves presentable. Do you have any girls serving detention you could spare?"

"I have two," said Winifred. "I found them chewing gum in class. Will that be sufficient."

"Yes," I said, "That will be quite satisfactory."

"Wonderful," said Winifred. "I will be by with them right away."

I could see that Winifred was already making significant changes at the Academy since she became Director. When they arrived, the two girls were already nude, and they were already wearing leather collars around their necks on which the word "detention" was written in large, prominent letters. I assigned them to Maxine, and she issued them cleaning supplies and put them to work.

Under Maxine's watchful eye, the girls scrubbed the floor, cleaned the exteriors of each of the cages, washed the windows to the Observation Cells, and scrubbed the toilets. It took several hours, during which each of the two girls earned herself several marks on her backside, courtesy of Maxine. They were scrubbing toilets in the Ladies Room at the time the Inspector arrived, with Rhonda Patil in tow.

"Hello Sir," I said, greeting him as cordially as I could manage under the circumstances. "Welcome to... " He interrupted me.

"I will see your Master now," he said.

"Of course, sir, right away. Let me show you back.

I led the Inspector back to my office -- Mr. Chambers' office now -- and knocked on the door. Mr. Chambers invited the Inspector in, and Rhonda and I followed. Emily was already there -- it seemed, without my knowledge, Mr. Chambers had summoned my assistant to help him prepare for the inspection while I was in front dealing with the cleaning.

The Inspector helped himself to a seat in front of Mr. Chambers' desk and began.

"How about some tea?" asked Mr. Chambers.

"Yes, thank you," replied the Inspector.

"Get us two teas, will you Sweetie" he said to me, as he slapped my bum with his open hand. What an arrogant man! I was as annoyed as I was turned on, but there was nothing I could do at that moment about either of those things. All I could do was say "yes, sir," and walk out of the office.

I went back to the counter and spoke to Zoe, "Send two teas into the office," I said. "I will watch the counter."

"Yes Mistress," she replied, before doing a quick curtsey. Finally SOMEBODY was calling me "Mistress."

Shortly after Zoe left, a woman in a police uniform showed up to the shop and marched straight to the counter with purpose.

"Are you Tracey Smith?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"That's 'yes Constable' to you," she corrected.

"May I help you 'Constable?'" I asked, putting a level of emphasis on the title that bordered on sarcasm.

"I am WPC Anna Clark, and I got a tip that you have Faith Carpenter here. I want her. Bring her out here," she said.

"We did have a free woman by that name visit us earlier this week," I said carefully, "but any business she might have with the police has now concluded."

"You mean, she gave up her panties," she said. An interesting way of putting it.

"Yes, she is now a slave, and is therefore no longer your concern. If you wish to buy her after her training and processing is complete, I am sure... "

Anna pulled out her baton and slammed it on the counter.

"Listen CUNT," she said sharply. "If I don't start getting some cooperation out of you I'll run you into the lock-up and put you somewhere that will make you wish you were in one of your comfy little cages. I'll have you spending all day cleaning up rubbish on the roadside in the rain, wearing nothing but shackles and your birthday suit, while at night I'll throw you in with the men in the drunk take and let them take turns shagging you to sleep. You'll be begging for the day we finally let you on that auction block, but your round little bum will have so many marks and bruises I doubt we'd get tem pounds for you. That sound good to you sweet cheeks?"

I was taken aback, and I knew she was right. As a WPC, she had no authority over men, but no matter what the law might say on paper, nobody would lift a finger to stop her doing whatever she pleased to a woman. Once again, in my own shop, I had no choice but to do as I was told.

After Zoe returned from bringing tea to Mr. Chambers and the Inspector, I summoned Betty and told her to bring Faith to the Event Room. I would normally have wanted to handle this in my office, but as I did not have access we instead went to the room where I had once held Titalin Club.

"Bend her over the table," ordered Anna. Betty, always eager to help out in any enterprise that involves abusing women, happily complied.

"Listen toots," said Anna, "You wanna give up your panties to some little shop and get yourself shipped off to be someone's sex toy, that't your business. But if you think that will help you get away from me, you have another thing coming. I want to know where you've been staying. I want to know where your little friends are. And you are gonna tell me. Understand?"

Faith was silent, which must have taken quite a bit of willpower on her part.

"I see you don't understand. Well, they say in police school there's only one way to get through to cunts." She pulled from her belt a small dildo, and shoved it into Faith's pussy from behind. It slid in easily, as Faith was quite wet. I didn't see how this was going to help.

Anna pressed a button, and the dildo expanded. And it didn't stop expanding. It was inflating, becoming bigger than any cock I have ever seen.

"Feel like talking?" asked Anna. Faith was panting as she was practically being split in half, but she kept silent.

"No? Perhaps we need a different form of stimulation. She retrieved another similar dildo from her belt, and shoved it into Faith's bum. This time, it did not go in nearly as easily, and I could see Faith wince in obvious discomfort, but she stayed quiet.

Then Anna started expanding it. I could see tears form on Faith's face.

"How about now?" asked Anna "You know this doesn't end until you talk."

Faith's breathing became heavier, to the point where she was hyperventilating, but she stayed silent. Anna pulled out a cattle prod and delivered a jolt to the area of Faith's bum that was already sore from having been barcoded. Faith yelled out.

"Ready to talk?" asked Anna.

"Eastfield," said Faith between pants. "Live.. in... Eastfield."

Anna grabbed Faith's hair, "WHERE?" she demanded.

"The cellar," said Faith. "Hartford House on Thatcher Road."

"If you are lying," said Anna, "I'll be back." Anna deflated both dildos and removed them. I thought that it was unfortunate that Faith had confessed to Anna, as I was hoping to find out where her fellow fugitives were staying myself, so I could acquire them. Now, the police would find them first, and they would be sold at the Police Auction. My only consolation was that I did manage to acquire Faith.

Before Betty could take Faith back to her cell, Anna turned to her and did a sudden double-take. "Constable Walker, is that you!?"

Betty turned to her, "It has been a long time since anybody has called me that."

"I thought I recognized you," said Anna. She approached Betty and gave her a quick hug. "How did you end up here?"

"I was on foot patrol, and I found this girl staggering down the sidewalk, so drunk she could barely walk. So I cuffed her, ripped off her clothes, and put her in the back of the car," said Betty.

Anna nodded, "routine."

"Right," agreed Betty. "Well, it turned out she was the daughter of an MP, and he was sore about the whole thing, so he complained to the Inspector. Well, to calm him down, the Inspector agreed to sell me, and, to make a long story short, here I am."

"Is it as bad as I've heard?" asked Anna.

"Not a bit," said Betty. "Oh. my first few Masters were rubbish. Just keeping me naked in a cage, ignoring me except for the occasional shag. But here, it's different. I get to keep these girls in line, just like I did with the police, only not all those rules."

"But you still have an owner, right?" asked Anna.

"I'm under orders, sure. But so are you. It's the same thing, only here I don't have to worry if I mess with some politician's daughter. I can do what I want with these girls, as long as I don't damage them."

"But it must be strange, being naked and everything," said Anna.

"Usually I wear clothes, but even being naked isn't that bad. You get used to it," said Betty. "I'll tell you what, the old bloke and the inspector are having all the girls paraded into the office one by one. How about you join the line? Just go in, nude, let yourself be inspected, and walk out. See how it feels. You might like it better than being a copper."

"I don't know," said Anna. "It seems like a risk."

"What's the risk?" asked Betty. "You're not barcoded, and you're not registered. And Tracey's honest -- she won't enslave you unless that's what you want. Plus, I'll protect you. You do trust me, don't you?"

Anna considered that for a moment, before Betty interrupted her train of thought.

"Why don't you come with me while I put Faith back?" said Betty. "In case you have any more questions."

"Certainly," said Anna, and she and Betty both grabbed Faith. Betty led them out of the Event Room.

I emerged from the Event Room myself and went back to the office, only to find each of the slaves, one-by-one, being paraded in front of Mr. Chambers and the Inspector. Both men examined each slave closely, and then had each girl sit in his lap while he fondled her with his hands. At first, it was just the slaves who received this treatment, but then the Inspector turned to Emily and said to her "How about those girls who were scrubbing the floor earlier. Let's have a look at them. Bring them here now."

"Those girls are not slaves, sir," replied Emily. "They are from the local secondary school here on a community service detail."

"Do you frequently sponsor such community service programs," asked the Inspector.

The question wasn't directed to me, but nevertheless I replied "we have a beneficial relationship with the administration of Eastfield Girls' Academy. Sometimes, we provide community service work opportunities for their students as part of our community outreach."

The Inspector grinned wolfishly -- I think he knew perfectly well what "community service" meant in this context. He simply said "bring them in."

I reached over the desk and activated the intercom, "Zoe, have Maxine come in with the girls."

"Yes, Mistress," came the reply. The Inspector looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"We train our slaves to address all free women as 'Mistress,'" I explained.

"Sloppy," commented the Inspector.

A moment later, the girls from Eastfield Girls' Academy walked in, accompanied by their Director Winifred, and Maxine, holding a riding crop. The girls' hands were red and water stained from all of the scrubbing they had been doing, and their knees were red from having spent so much time on their hands and knees. They were sweating, their hair was a mess, and their bums were marked with evidence of Maxine's unique form of encouragement. They stood nervously before the inspector.

"So, girls, do you know why you are here?" asked the Inspector.

"Yes sir," replied one.

"We were put on work detail," replied the other.

"And why is that?" asked the Inspector.

"We were caught chewing gum in class, sir," replied the first girl.

The Inspector stood up, walked around the girls, and made a show of inspecting both of them as if they were pieces of meat. "That," he finally said, "is very naughty. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"No sir," replied each of the two girls, in turn.

He turned to Winifred, "and what about you?" he asked. "A FEMALE Director? No wonder there is such indiscipline. What do you have to say for yourself, to permit such behavior in your school."