Tracey's Slave Shop Pt. 07

"This sort of behavior is very definitely NOT permitted at Eastfield Girls' Academy," said Winifred. "That is why these girls are here, being disciplined."

"Apparently, though, your sort of discipline is not very effective. I think these girls need male discipline." The Inspector turned to the girls, "Bend over the desk," he ordered.

The girls did so, whereupon the inspector unzipped his trousers and pulled out a very erect cock. This seemed a step too far for Winifred, who started to approach the Inspector to intervene, only to be held back by Maxine. The Inspector fucked one of the two girls, and then the other, while Winifred watched, helplessly.

Once the Inspector had had his way with the two girls, he turned to Maxine. "Strip her and take her to the back. Teach her some manners."

Maxine grinned, and grabbed Winifred, who tried in vain to struggle as she was taken out of the office. The girls, meanwhile remained motionless, bent over the desk after having been shagged by the Inspector.

"Sit down on the floor Girls," said the Inspector, and the girls backed away from the desk and sat together, with their legs crossed, on the thin institutional carpet of the ground. They were in the Inspector's custody now, and he was going to make them watch the remainder of the proceedings.

A moment later, Betty walked into the office with a now completely nude Anna trailing behind. Apparently, whatever Betty had said to Anna had great effect, because Anna spared no effort in acting as every bit the seductive slave girl. She shook her hips as she walked, flirted with both the Inspector and Mr. Chambers when she walked past them, and after presenting herself she performed a deep curtsey. The inspector applauded and then gave a command to Betty.

"Turn her around," she said.

Without needing any prompting from Betty, Anna turned around and showed her back side.

"Why does she have no barcode?" asked the Inspector.

"Sir," said Betty, "she is not yet a slave, but she wanted to come in because she is considering..."

Mr. Chambers interrupted Betty. "Process her," he said.

"Yes, Master," said Betty, who curtseyed deeply, and grabbed Anna. Anna, apparently, was not quite ready for this, so she struggled, but to no avail. Betty dragged her away to the office door and toward her new fate.

"So," said the inspector, "what's next."

It was all too much. I walked out of the office.

How horribly arrogant of those two men! Anna, the intimidating, authoritative police constable who just a short time ago had made me yield in my own shop by threatening me with prison and slavery, was dispatched effortlessly by John Chambers simply uttering the phrase "process her." A final judgement, more powerful than me, Betty, Anna, or her badge.

And Winifred -- the stern Headmistress who had just taken over her school and who ruled the lives of hundreds of girls, being forced to watch her own students being raped, only then to be stripped nude and tortured, all at the whim of that arrogant Inspector. The Inspector who seemed to control my shop, and the fate of every female who dwelled within it. The Inspector who could, with a single casual remark, turn the most powerful of women into the lowliest of slaves at a whim.

I was so wet I could burst!

And I had no access either to my office, or to the instrument within that would provide me relief.

Suddenly, I remembered the advice I had once given to Emily: "You can borrow a vibrator from the supply room," I had said "and wherever you use it, make sure nobody sees you."

I went to the supply room, where I fetched a brand new vibrator from a box that had arrived that morning. I looked around -- unfortunately, there were cameras everywhere, and although I was sure Mr. Chambers would probably not be watching, I didn't want to risk being recognized. I put the vibrator into my handbag, along with a fresh gag, and made my way onto the sales floor. There, I tried as hard as I could to blend in with the various customers who were browsing the cages, until I could make my way to the Ladies Room.

I entered a stall, locked the stall door, and removed my skirt and knickers. Then, I unbuttoned my blouse, and removed my bra. I put the gag into my mouth, and took the vibrator out of my handbag. With one hand, I began massaging my clit with one hand, while I squeezed by left breast with another. The gag suppressed the beginnings of my moans.

As I imagined myself being bent over and fucked, like those girls from Eastfield Girls' Academy, first by the Inspector and then by Mr. Chambers, the vibrator started to penetrate me. It went in deeper as I imagined their cocks expanding, like the inflating dildos that Anna had used on Faith. And Betty and Monica were holding me down.

Then, my mind snapped back to reality as I heard the door to the Ladies Room open, and the door to the stall being kicked in. There, I found Betty and Monica, together, standing over me. They grabbed me -- Betty taking my shoulders, and Monica my feet. They took off my blouse, and carried me, nude, out of the ladies room.

Maxine and Betty were both formidable women. Taller, more muscular, and in better physical condition that the overwhelming majority of women, they were invaluable when it came to enforcing discipline among the slaves, and the potential slaves, in the shop. In physical terms, I would be no match for either of them, and I certainly was no match for the two of them working together.

When these two enforcers were caring me, nude, off my feet, across the sales floor of my own shop, I knew that struggling would be futile. Nevertheless, I did struggle, but it was pure instinct. While I was being carried I also ordered both of them to "PUT ME DOWN AT ONCE," but they simply ignored me. Apparently they were acting on what they treated as higher orders.

I had never felt so helpless. I have seen, and in many cases manhandled, many women nude in public places, but I had never been in that position myself. I felt like every eye was on me as I was carried through the shop, and I felt like every inch of my body was being scrutinized. Mostly, I had the disconcerting, yet exciting feeling that whatever was going to happen to me, I had absolutely no say. My fate was in someone else's hands, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I was brought to the processing room and layed down on the table. It was a stainless steel table, and it was cold, hard, and unyielding. My wrists and ankles were shackled into place, and my face was down, so I could not see what Betty and Maxine were doing. I could, however, make a good guess. I felt a chill as a cold liquid was rubbed through every crevice of my body. But it was only cold at first -- it soon became warm and soothing, and then it started to burn. It was a sensation similar to what it must feel like to be roasted alive in a fire, but strangely it was not exactly painful When they rinsed the liquid off, it felt cool and soothing, and when they grabbed me to turn me over, I could feel their hands on my skin in a way I had never felt before. It was as if the nerve endings in my skin were closer to the surface than they had ever been, enhancing every tactical sensation.

I was unshackled, turned over onto my back, and re-shackled. The liquid was poured on again, but this time I intense sensations as the liquid made contact with my nipples, and as the liquid approached my pussy I experienced something approaching an electric jolt of pleasure. They did my face expertly, and when the last of the liquid was washed off I felt like my skin was experiencing the sensation of touch for the first time. Every sensation, whether it be pressure, pain, heat, or cold was multiplied. Further, every touch produced a noticeable response in my loins. My body seemed to WANT to be touched, more than ever before.

I was taken off the table and told to bend over, and I knew that was it. I was about to be registered, and I was about to feel the sensation of a barcode being permanently burned to my bum. My knowledge that this was about to happen scared me a bit, but it also excited me in equal measure.

Thus then, someone came in, and I heard the voice.

"WHAT are you DOING!?" it demanded, urgently. "That is your MISTRESS, you little cunts, don't you REALIZE. Release her at once!"

The hand that was holding me down released me. Suddenly, a smaller, gentler hand took my hand, and led me away from the table.

I followed.

I did not know where that hand was leading me, but following its lead seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and instinctively I simply did it. It simply did not occur to me to do anything else.

The hand led me to a cell, and through a heavy, steel door. I entered, the door closed behind me, and then it was dark and silent.

I have no idea how long I was there. Hours? Days? Weeks? There was absolutely no light, and absolutely no sound, and the only thing I could feel was my own body. The urge to masturbate was overwhelming, and soon I did. The events of the day had stirred many of my latent submissive feelings and, besides, by touching myself I was able to experience sensations, where I would experience absolutely none otherwise.

Eventually, the lights of the cell were turned on, very dimly at first, but their intensity gradually increased. That allowed my eyes to adjust from complete darkness to a normal level of light before the door opened. There, I saw Emily, holding a terry cloth robe, which she handed to me before leading me out of the cell.

As we walked together through the corridors, Emily spoke. "I'm sorry about what happened to you," she said. "I did what I could. Somebody reported the sound of a vibrator coming from the Ladies, and the girls in front told John Chambers. He just turned to Betty and said 'process her.' He had no idea who it was."

"But Betty and Maxine did it anyway," I said.

"Of course. I think they enjoyed it. I'm taking care of that though," said Emily. As she said this, we walked into a room where Betty and Maxine were both nude, hanging together by their ankles from chains extending down from the ceiling. There were numerous marks and bruises covering their bodies, and their nipples were all being squeezed by clothespins. Anna was there -- nude, barcoded, and apparently enjoying her first assignment.

I nodded toward Anna, who curtseyed to me, and together Emily and I left.

"So where is the Inspector? Where is John Chambers?" I asked.

"Both gone," said Emily. "They went through all of the slaves on file, had them paraded in front of them, poked, and prodded, and then the inspection was over. Mr. Chambers went back to his harem in the highlands."

"What about those girls from Eastfield Girls' Academy?"

"That was a sticky wicket, I don't mind saying. They were students, so we had to get ifred involved," said Emily.

I had forgotten about ifred.

"Fortunately, ifred was stripped and roughed up a bit, but she never was processed. So once the Inspector and Mr. Chambers left, we simply released her. We called their parents, and they agreed that it would best if we just processed the girls right now," said Emily.

It seemed Emily had taken care of everything.

I decided to take a shower before changing into something more professional, and as I stood, naked, under the stream of water I was acutely aware of my new skin, having been treated with that thick, white cream. It was so much softer, and so much more sensitive to the touch. My hand wandered so much more easily to that place between my thighs, which was so much more sensitive.

I resisted the urge to do what had gotten me in trouble before, and got out of the shower. As I dressed, I noticed my clothes felt uncomfortable. Against my now overly sensitive skin, they felt as if they were made of rough sandpaper.

I did my best to hide my discomfort as I made my way back to the office. There, I saw Emily sitting in my chair behind my desk. Somehow, though, it did not seem to bother me too much, as it did when I saw John Chambers there. Maybe because Emily had been taking care of things for me, and I now trusted her completely. Or, perhaps, it was something else. I sat down in front of the desk and spoke to her.

"Long enough," replied Emily. "I had to give it enough time for the Titalin to wear off."

Of course! How could I have forgotten? This was a basic fact about the procedure for processing new slavegirls that I had taught Emily: The white cream that was used to treat their skin -- MY skin -- contained trace amounts of Titalin, and the effects of that concoction on the skin caused the Titalin to be absorbed into the body. The effects of Titalin on a girl's mind wasn't permanent UNLESS, while under its influence, the girl is given a command. The more difficult or humiliating the command, the greater the effect.

Had I been given any commands? Certainly, Betty and Maxine, while they were processing me, manhandled me a bit. A command does not have to be verbal -- it could simply be a matter of being shoved in a particular direction, and submitting to what the person shoving you wants you to do.

Then there was Emily, leading me by the hand to the cell. It wasn't that I wanted to go into that cell -- I went there because Emily led me there. That was also a command. Was that enough for the Titalin to permanently change my psyche?

I realize why she locked me up -- it was to protect me for being commanded any further. But had the damage already been done? Probably, but how much? Time would tell.

"How are you feeling?" asked Emily.

"A bit strange," I admitted. "I don't feel quite like myself. At least not yet."

Emily nodded, sympathetically. "I know. Take as long as you need. You don't need to worry, I will take care of the shop for you."

"Yes," I said, "I appreciate that. But I should try to get back to work."

Just then the intercom on Emily's desk rang. "Yes?" she replied.

It was Zoe, "We have a visitor that I believe you should see personally."

"I shall be right out," replied Emily.

She stood up and started to leave. Before she made it to the office door, however, she turned to me. "Unless," she said, "you would prefer to handle this yourself."

"I think I should," I said. "Or, at least, I should try."

I stood up and left the office, making my way to the counter. Emily followed.

There, I found Zoe standing at the counter, and in front of her was Rhonda Patil. She was in tears.

"The minister sacked me," said Rhonda. "When he called my boss to ask why your shop hadn't been inspected in so long, he blamed me. I got my notice today. I'm to report to the Government Processing Centre."

"I am sorry to hear that," I said. What else could I say? In a more lucid moment, I might have had a plan of some sort, but right then I did not know what to do.

"You've got to help me," she almost cried.

"I, er, I suppose maybe we could hide..." I began, but Emily interrupted.

"We'll ship you to Belfast," she said, decisively. What was Emily thinking?

Rhonda began to look hopeful, but then after a moment she regarded Emily wish suspicion.

"I won't be a slave," she said, sharply.

"Certainly not," replied Emily. "Although, you will have to disguise yourself as one. You will have to be waxed, and we will have to apply a temporary barcode to you, but we won't register you. We will just keep an actual slave girl behind in our next shipment, and you will take her place."

Rhonda considered that for a moment. "I have a friend in Belfast who can pick me up there," she said. "All I need to do is get across the border, and then I'll be safe from the long arm of the DFA."

"Then it's settled. Zoe, call Anna and tell her to escort Rhonda to Processing, but DON'T process her. I will handle this one myself."

"Yes Mistress," replied Zoe, immediately.

I couldn't help but be impressed, both with how quick thinking Emily was, and how expertly she had handled Rhonda. Somehow, I knew, she would turn Rhonda into a slave. I did not know precisely how, but I knew that Rhonda's fate was sealed and it was to be Emily who would bring it about.

I looked around the shop and saw many customers there. Some were men, young and old, coming to feast their eyes on nubile female bodies, or perhaps to bring a wife, girlfriend, or daughter to become a piece of property. Some were women, who came because they were curious, or perhaps because they had a girlfriend they wanted to betray. Many of the women did not know they were experiencing their last hours of freedom.

"Emily," I said, "before you go back to the processing room, can I speak with you for a moment in your office?" Even as I spoke that request, I already knew that a line had been crossed. It was already HER office, and I was already asking permission to go there. I did not feel any apprehension, though. If anything, I felt a sense of contentment.

"Of course," replied Emily.

A moment later, Emily and I were alone, and she sat down behind the desk. I stood before her.

"I want you to know how impressed I am with how you handled yourself just now, with Rhonda. And how proud I am. You have shown yourself both dependable and capable," I said.

"Thank you, that means a great deal," replied Emily.

"I have spent many years dedicating myself to building this shop into a thriving business," I said, "and my desire to keep it going has driven me. But now, I know it will be in good hands."

"One way or another," I continued, "I know, with the way I am now -- with the way I changed, with the Titalin, I am going to end up in a cage, as a piece of property. Don't feel sorry for me, I am content. The one thing that is important to me is that this shop, that I have dedicated myself to, will be in good hands." I remained standing. There was a long, palpable silence, as I hesitated to do what I knew I must do. It filled me in equal measures with both excitement and dread.

Emily waited, patiently. I could see she knew what was coming, but she was not going to push me. It would be my choice to jump.

I unbuttoned my blouse, removed it, and let it drop to the floor. Then came my shoes, followed by my skirt. Soon, my underthings joined them, and I stood before a fully clothed Emily, nude. My treated skin felt better, free of the rough sandpaper sensation that my clothes gave me, but on a deeper level I felt liberated.

I fell down on my knees. I did not know what would happen next, but I knew it was not up to me.

It was up to Emily.

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EPILOGUE

When Tracey fell down to her knees and gave herself to me, the only decent thing to do was to accept her gift graciously. I led her to Processing and handled her modifications myself. Rhonda would wait.

I entered her information into the computer, and then bent her over and burned her barcode into her bum. She squealed a bit, but not nearly as much as many of the other girls I have processed. Once she was barcoded, I made a show of sticking a dildo filled with white liquid into her mouth and making her suck on it, as if she was giving it oral sex, before squirting a bit into her mouth. Normally it would contain Titalin, but in Tracey's case, it was a placebo. The very little bit of Titalin she had, coupled with her own natural submissive tendencies, were more than enough to keep her appropriately humble.

I knew that if I housed Tracey with any of the other slaves there was a risk that there would be retaliations, so I kept her in a solitary confinement cell when I was not using her. I was a bit worried about Maxine and Betty, because I did eventually release them from punishment, but I warned both of them that Tracey was not to be harmed, and after what had happened to them at the hands of Anna, I believe they took the message on board.

I considered auctioning Tracey, since she was a public figure in much the same way the former Headmistress Diana had been, and would generate a great deal of interest, but I decided her skills were still too valuable. So, initially, I had her do odd jobs around the shop. Scrubbing, fetching coffee, the occasional foot massage. Eventually I put her to work at the counter, but I always kept her nude. Occasionally, young blokes came into the shop, and I would lend Tracey to them to have their way with her. I think she was content.