Slaves Don't Need Visas Ch. 13-16

[hoggle123]

13. Lunch Break

Melissa had been standing for about half an hour air-drying when she saw Nala approach her. Nala turned the crank to lower the hook.

As soon as the hook was low enough, Melissa slipped her handcuffs off. She sighed with relief as her arms were finally permitted to fall, restoring circulation to them. She collapsed to the ground, after having been made to stand for hours. She felt a release of tension as the muscles in her feet, calves and legs relaxed. The chain of her leash clinked against the tiles, falling in front of her and between her legs. A wave of dizziness washed over her as she adjusted to sitting down, and she tenderly massaged her sore wrists, which had borne her arms' weight during her long suspension from the hook.

“Oh Melissa, you look miserable!” Nala said with pity in her voice.

Melissa looked up and saw Nala looking down at her. She was laying on the white tiles on her side with her head resting on her right upper arm. Her hands were still cuffed, she was shackled and the chain that was padlocked to her collar was lying curled up in front of her.

Nala squatted before Melissa and gently stroked her hair, looking at her with compassion.

“Can you stand again?” Nala inquired.

Nala had put her in the handcuffs she was still in and hobbled her. Nala was the one who had strung her up at the hook this morning, Melissa reminded herself. The hook that had forced her to stand with upward stretched arms for what must have been hours. The hook that had held her in place as she had been manhandled throughout the morning. Had she known what would be done to her?

She nodded and sat herself up.

“Look, I smuggled something in for you!” Nala said and took a chocolate bar out of her pocket.

Melissa’s eyes darted to the chocolate bar. She was hungry. Her last meal had been breakfast early this morning. And she had been through a lot of stress since then. She wanted that bar. It was too good to be true. Was this a trick? Was Nala toying with her? She hoped not.

Nala offered her the bar and Melissa grabbed the bar with her cuffed hands. She tore it open and stuffed it into herself like a famished hamster would shove a pile of nuts into his chubby cheeks.

“See, I told you I would get you some good food!” Nala said and laughed. “Come, let’s get out of here.”

In any case, Melissa thought, it was not up to Nala what was done to her. Nala was an apprentice and did what she was told. She would not be mad at Nala for what had been done to her.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Melissa said after remembering her manners while chewing the chocolate.

Slowly Melissa stood up. She wasn’t hurt, her muscles had just been under strain from being forced to stand for so long and her wrists were sore. The chocolate bar was giving her new energy.

Nala walked her out of the tiled room. She was holding Melissa’s leash but she was not leading her with it. They were walking next to each other and Nala was chatting with Melissa as if they were peers and Melissa not a naked and chained slave.

“Where are you taking me?” Melissa asked.

“Lunch. Well, It will soon be lunch for the staff, so I’m tidying up the white hall a bit. So I’m moving you out of the way. That way you can also relax a bit. That’s probably better than hanging from that hook all day.”

Relaxing sounded good to Melissa. She looked forward to sitting or lying down. If it wasn’t for Nala, these people would just leave her hanging from the hook while they were having their lunch break. She shuddered at the thought.

Other employees, who were fully clothed, were walking in the corridors as well. Melissa had the urge to cover herself. Her nudity had not been at the forefront of her mind while her legs had been hurting after she had been suspended on the hook, but now as she was walking in the building among the staff of the Health Office, the exposure she felt was acute. She felt a strong urge to conceal her breasts and vagina, yet she had no choice but to walk alongside Nala. Melissa pretended that walking like this was natural to her.

Nala led her through a corridor that led out of the building. From there, Melissa was led to an adjacent building. The inventory clerk at the entrance scanned the tag on Melissa’s neck and she heard a beep. Then the guard told her “The stall in the C4 barn.”, which Melissa understood was the location Nala would bring her.

“Nala, who was the guy who took me to the bathroom before?”

“Oh, that was Killian. He is an intern here to learn some nursing work.”

“He is so mean. He kept zapping me for no reason.”

“Yeah, he is not good with animals. I’ve seen him zap other animals with his cattle prod for fun before. That makes the animals afraid of him, you know. I think he is just bored here and desperate for some fun.”

“Why does no one stop him?”

“Well, basically he is not doing any harm. And when he is occupied with lower level tasks he can’t mess up any important things.”

“What do you mean?”

”Killian doesn’t care about the work. And no one can fire him. He is the son of the head veterinarian. His father got him the internship. Killian can’t even be bothered to put on a uniform. The head nurse tries to keep him away from important tasks because she’s afraid he will mess them up. That is why he gets unimportant tasks like basic care of animals like taking you to the bathroom.”

“He can’t be fired even if he is breaking rules and torturing me?”

“Well, he is not breaking any rules directly. Us staff can use the cattle prods as we see fit as long as we get our jobs done. And Killian did get you to the bathroom and back, so no one will give him a hard time for it. - Well, except me maybe,” Nala said and smiled.

“Thanks for that,” Melissa said. “He was just zapping me for fun while holding me close with my leash.”

“Yeah, there is nothing that can be done about that. The head nurse told me that back in the days staff used canes and whips to keep the animals in line. People like Killian used to be a real problem for the Health Office back then, because their unrestrained use would mark the animals. And then the Health Office got complaints from the owners. That is why the Health Office eventually switched to cattle prods. They are less likely to leave marks.”

“Can the staff not be told not to needlessly torture us?” Melissa asked.

“The higher ups tried that, but people just tend to fall back into their habits after a while. Issuing cattle prods that generally don’t leave marks makes more sense. At least to the higher ups.”

“How did you get him to stop?”

“I told him that animals don’t respond well to arbitrary punishments. It makes them hard to train later. Animals need to know that they will be treated fairly or they can’t develop trust in their handlers. That’s something I’ve heard the head nurse tell him when she caught him doing this. And I told him that you had only been enslaved yesterday. And that he was just being mean.”

They walked down a corridor and the smell of animals became increasingly stronger. This was a barn, Melissa thought from the smell. It reminded her of a vacation she’d been on with her cousin as a girl. They had stayed on a farm. The smell reminded her of the barn from her youth. She had explored the barn and enjoyed the animals there.

Beyond the door marked C4, Melissa saw a spacious hall where stalls lined the walls, reminiscent of barn interiors. Each stall was divided into a lower wooden section and an upper section with steel bars, the latter stopping short of the ceiling to keep the animals from escaping over the wood.

Nala led Melissa past the stalls; on their right, there were enclosures holding goats and a sheep, each in their own separate space. However, one stall stood out: its front was a full-height steel cage with evenly spaced horizontal bars reaching up to the ceiling, flanked by solid walls on both sides. Melissa realized that this stall was designed to hold humans, to hold her.

Nala prattled on about the animals around them, but Melissa’s mind was elsewhere, grappling with the truth that this time she wasn't here as a guest, but as an animal on a leash to be penned up in a stall.

The animals looked up at her as they passed by.

Nala swung open the gate to the barred enclosure, revealing an entirely empty space. Unlike the other stalls, this one lacked any hay, with its floor starkly made of cement.

Nala let go of Melissa’s leash and, with a gentle nudge, ushered her inside. Melissa scanned her surroundings; it was more like a cell than a stall. However, it was much larger than her previous transport cage, allowing her to move about. She estimated it to be roughly three meters square, or as the English folks would put it, ten feet by ten feet.

"Looks like your stall isn't quite ready yet," Nala remarked. "Don’t worry, by tonight you should have something to sleep on in here."

The mention of having “something to sleep on” alarmed Melissa. She turned around. Nala was still standing at the entrance.

“Nala, how long will I be held here?”

“Oh, not long. Just until we are ready for the next treatments.”

“No, I mean, how long will I be held here at the Health Office before I am released to my owner?”

“I don’t know really. I haven’t seen them process a slave for import. You are the first I’ve ever seen! I know that for most cattle it is about fourteen days. That is the quarantine period.”

“Fourteen days! You mean I will have to stay here for two weeks?” Melissa was shocked. She had thought they would be done with her in the afternoon or early evening at the latest.

“Possibly, yes.”

“Wait here, I’ll be back with some food for you later,” she said. Nala slammed the door and left. The door automatically locked shut, confining Melissa in the stall.
Nala hadn’t released her from her handcuffs and shackles. Even the chain leash was still locked to her collar.

Melissa approached the bars, gripping two of them with her still-cuffed hands. The chains around her ankles made a metallic jingle as they scraped across the concrete. Resting her head against the cold steel, she peered down the corridor to her left. She heard the sound of the main door closing, indicating Nala's exit, though it was out of her sight, hidden by the extension of her stall's side walls. She scanned the other stalls around her. Some had goats and sheep and some were empty.

She looked around her empty cell. Two weeks, Nala had said. That’s how long she might be held here. She had been told at the airport there would just be “a few checks”. Melissa was distressed. This morning had been torture for her. She couldn’t bear this. They intended to torture her here for two whole weeks! And she would be housed in this stall in a barn like an animal. Melissa was distraught and didn’t know how she would be able to come to terms with this.

The chain hanging from her collar slowly dragged over her skin. The soft rub of the smooth metal caused goosebumps. Melissa scratched her abdomen and her upper leg.

She sat down and leaned against the side wall of the cage near the bars so she could see down the corridor and waited. Melissa looked at her cuffed hands. She had been handcuffed all morning. Her wrists were still red from being hung from the hook earlier today. Melissa wished Nala had taken the cuffs off her.

Melissa was in disbelief. The idea of being detained for two weeks felt like an eternity compared to the brief inconvenience she had mentally prepared for. An uncomfortable chill ran down her spine, the reality of her situation setting in. She felt a pang of dread, her heart sinking as the implications unfurled before her. The prospect of being treated like livestock, confined to this cold, steel-barred stall for days on end, only interrupted by dehumanizing treatments, was disheartening.

Her thoughts raced, imagining the loss of freedom, and the uncertainty of her future with no word from Arbek. Anger simmered beneath her shock, a quiet rage against the injustice of her confinement.

Her mind grappled with the prospect of her extended captivity. Melissa knew she would need to muster all her strength to endure this ordeal, to protect whatever fragments of her dignity remained in this place where she was seen not as a person, but as an animal.

Melissa noticed that at the bottom of the barred door to her stall there was a gap left in the bars, likely a food slot.

Eventually Nala returned with a plastic bag. “I hope you’re hungry!” She unlocked the stall door and entered it.

Melissa rose to her feet and moved towards Nala. Nala paused momentarily, her expression shifting to one of irritation as she looked at Melissa. Melissa caught this change and worried, had she erred? She couldn't risk upsetting Nala, the only one who treated her with any semblance of humanity.

Nala's face softened back into a smile. "I'll need to remind myself to teach you more about our protocols later," she remarked. "I tend to overlook how new you are to all this."

She looked at Melissa. “Oh sorry I forgot to take your handcuffs off,” Nala set the bag down on the cement floor and fished out her keyring. Melissa offered her hands. Nala had put the handcuffs on her after removing the catheter and she had been in them ever since. Nala unlocked the handcuffs and pocketed them in her nurse's coat.

Nala held Melissa’s hands in hers and examined her wrists. “Oh no, that must hurt,” she said. “I’ll see if I can get you some ointment later.”

“Thanks, Ma’am.”

Nala looked up at Melissa, her gaze getting stuck at Melissa’s collar, “You’ll be picked up later again, so there is no point taking your leash off. Or does it bother you?”

The question caught Melissa off guard. Yes, of course it bothered her that she was leashed! She longed for the weight of the chain to be lifted from her neck. She was surprised by the suggestion that she might have some say in this matter. But considering her current situation—being kept nude in a barn with livestock, having been subjected to the cruelty of a cattle prod for Killian’s amusement, and the recent invasive cleaning procedure in which a man had grabbed her labia in his fist and stuck a finger into her anus repeatedly—the leash seemed like a trivial concern. Her mind was more preoccupied with the prospect of being fed, hoping Nala had made good on her promise of bringing her something tasty.

“Well it is not directly bothering me, but if I can have it off then that I’d rather have the leash off,” Melissa responded.

Nala produced a key, and Melissa tilted her head back to facilitate the removal of her leash. Nala unfastened it, and it fell with a clatter onto the cement. "The ankle chains have to stay on, I'm afraid," she said, with a giggle. "They don’t want to risk slaves bolting and then staff has to chase after them."

“Come, let’s sit down,” Nala suggested. They moved to the side wall and sat side by side.

“Here, try this,” Nala said, passing a plastic container from the bag to Melissa.

Upon opening it, Melissa found a generous serving of fried rice mixed with chunks of omelet, topped with slices of succulent meat and a rich sauce.

Nala then pulled out a plastic spoon and handed it to her.

“Oh, this looks amazing, thanks!” Melissa took the spoon and started shoveling some food into her mouth.

"I picked it up from a takeout place just down the street a moment ago," Nala explained, unpacking another container with the same meal for herself. "They have good stuff. I go there sometimes when I didn’t get around to bringing my own food from home." She started to eat, too.

“Nala, what else will be done to me here?” Melissa asked after swallowing a mouthful.

“We do a standard set of health checks for various imports. I can tell you what the checks are for imported cows and sheep. I’ve done those. But never for a slave. You are my first!” Nala responded.

“You’ve never had a slave here?”

“Oh, we do sometimes. But for other stuff. Like to certify them for a sale or to create a survey report in case of damages. Stuff like that. Not import checks like with you.”

“Nala, if I may ask, why do I have to be naked?”

“All slaves have to be naked in Grabesh. Unless they need clothes to do their job. It is the law.”

“Yes, I have heard that, but why is that?”

“Ah, I see what you mean. We learned this in school. This is from way back when there were wars between tribes here, and people from the losing side were taken as prisoners. Stripping them naked was part of disarming them.”

“You stripped them naked to disarm them?”

”Yes, so they wouldn’t fight back anymore in their captivity. You are naked. Do you think you could fight like this?”

“No,” Melissa said. Not that she had been good at fighting before she had been stripped of clothes. But now that she was naked, she just wanted to hide.

“Exactly. Naked people are very vulnerable. It takes the fight out of them. And so when the prisoners were later sold as slaves, they were already naked.

“It also meant that their stuff, like weapons, armor and clothes could be sold separately. So it means there is also more to sell, which makes good business sense.

“And the people who bought them, kept them naked for pretty much the same reason. It makes it easier to keep the slaves in check. A whip is more effective when used on a naked person. It is difficult for a naked slave to conceal a weapon.”

Melissa thought about how her naked skin left her entirely vulnerable to being shocked by the employees, with no clothing to shield her from the painful jolts.

“It also made sense to sell slaves naked on the markets so buyers can appraise the merchandise,” Nala continued. ”It would have looked dodgy to see a clothed slave being sold. Like the seller was trying to hide something. It would have looked like a shady sales practice. Buyers have to see what they are paying for in advance. When your owner sells you, buyers will want to see you naked. That makes sense, right?”

Melissa nodded uncomfortably. Arbek would never sell her. But Nala didn’t know that. Still, imagining herself being sold and potential buyers inspecting her naked body was a scary thought for Melissa.

“Eventually these traditions became laws.”

“So I have to be naked so I can’t fight and conceal any weapons?”

“Well yes, but there is more to it. Because of the stuff I said before slaves tended to be the naked ones. Over time people got used to the idea that the naked people are the slaves. Technically slaves are the ones who wear collars. But if they are allowed to wear clothes, they might also use them to conceal their collars and pass as free people. So it makes sense that slaves had to be naked so their status could be clearly identified. And over time the tradition was turned into the law.

“So forcing slaves to be naked started out as a way to ensure they are disarmed, but over time it additionally became a way to also make sure they can be identified as slaves more easily.”

“I thought it was so people could gawk at naked women.”

Nala laughed. “I’m sure that plays a role as well!”

“So I have to be naked so I can be more easily controlled?”

“Yes, that is the idea. People don’t want to be slaves. They are forced into slavery. If slaves could free themselves, they would do so. Do you like being a slave, Melissa?”

“Yeah, this is great,” Melissa said, looking down at her naked body with her breasts and vagina exposed and her ankles hobbled.

“Melissa, sarcasm does not befit a slave,” Nala admonished her.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa said. “I mean, I do not like being a slave, Ma’am.”

“And would you not free yourself from slavery, Melissa, if you were able to?”

Melissa was surprised at the question. “Yes, I would,” she admitted.

She wanted to add that she would be freed soon. That her owner was her boyfriend and he had promised to set her free. But as she thought this, she realized how this would sound to Nala. Nala would think she was a naive girl, she might nod politely to not take away her hope for freedom, but Nala would not believe it would happen. So Melissa decided not to bring it up. She did not want Nala to think of her as naive.

“And that’s how it is for every slave. Nobody wants to be a slave. So when it comes to slaves, it is all about control. The collars, the nudity, the protocols, ban on money use, the use of honorifics and so on,” Nala continued.

Despite the gloomy topic, Melissa was enjoying the meal Nala had brought her. “Oh Nala, this food is so good. Are you risking your job by giving me this?”

“No,” Nala laughed. “I was joking when I said I’d ‘smuggle’ something in for you. We have to provide you with food that is in line with the nutritional guidelines from the Ministry of Health, but if someone brings you extra food and you eat it, nobody cares.”

Nala took two bottles with juice out of the bag. She put one next to Melissa and one next to her. She took the leash chain and the handcuffs that were on the floor and put them into the plastic bag.

Melissa was glad to have the instruments of restraining her out of sight. She didn’t like to be reminded that she could be chained and leashed.

“Are you risking getting into trouble by taking my leash off me?” she asked.

“Oh no,” Nala replied. “The only thing you have to wear around here are the ankle chains. Some slaves are good runners and we don’t want to have to chase after them. The leash and the cuffs are optional. It is up to the handler if he wants to use them to restrain you.”

Melissa was finished with her takeaway meal. “Thank you, Nala. That was great food. I’ve never had Grabesian food before,” she said.

“My pleasure. Your first Grabesh food? So you’ve actually never been to Grabesh before?”

“No, this was meant to be my first time. I didn’t know anything about Grabesh, and when I arrived, I was enslaved at the airport. In a way I still feel like I have never seen Grabesh because after they took my clothes at the airport, they locked me in a cage and sent me here.” Melissa lifted her arms as if she was referring to her barred stall in the barn. “I never got to see anything else.”

“Oh gosh.”

“Yeah, and they tased me! Twice. Because I didn’t know their stupid rules. Can you believe that?”

“Did you forget to use honorifics like ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

Nala laughed, “Because you still don’t do it!”

Melissa was startled when she noticed that Nala was right. “Oh yes, you’re right,” and then added a muted “Ma’am.”

”Look, I’m not a stickler for the rules so I don’t mind it personally, but some people take them seriously and then slaves get punished. Actually most people are like that when I think about it.”

“The first time I was tased was because they said I had to strip naked. I didn’t believe them and then they tased me until I collapsed to the floor,” Melissa said, hoping for some sympathy for what had been done to her. Then she remembered and added, “Ma’am.”

“I know, most people don’t really bother explaining anything to slaves. Slaves have no rights, so they don’t bother explaining stuff to them. It is easier to just punish them until they obey.”

”Actually, speaking of punishing: I should show you some basic slave protocols around here. If you learn them well, they will help you avoid being zapped by a cattle prod. Are you ready for a quick lesson?”

Melissa was done with her food and had had a drink of the juice. She didn’t really have a choice. But if this would spare her the jolts of a cattle prod, then she wanted to know this.

“Yes, Ma’am,” she replied.

14. Submissive Pose

“Ok,” Nala said and got up. She went out of Melissa’s stall.

Melissa stood up and followed her. Nala closed the door in front of her and it clicked shut, keeping Melissa inside.

“When you see someone coming to you and opening your cage,” Nala took out her keys and began to open the door, “You can’t just stand there as you do now. You have to demonstrate to your handler that you are not a threat. So by the time I open the door,” and then she opened the door fully, “You have to assume a submissive pose.”

Melissa just stared at her confusedly.

Nala entered Melissa’s stall and stood next to her. “Submissive poses can look differently depending on the context. And there are also regional differences in Grabesh,” she explained. “But here at the Health Office, you are expected to lie on the floor, front first, head towards your handler and your hands next to your head, palms up. Try it!” Nala told her.

Melissa looked at Nala, seemingly trying to judge if she was serious. Nala looked back at her and gave her an encouraging smile. Ok, Nala was serious about this. Melissa decided she would assume the demeaning posture Nala had described. Then, Melissa took two steps back from Nala. She hesitatingly knelt on the ground, facing Nala, bent to go on all fours and finally placed her front on the cool cement floor. Her head was at Nala’s feet. Melissa looked up, but could only see up to Nala’s knees from there.

“Ok that’s a good start, but remember what you have to do with your hands?”

Melissa tried to remember. Then, she turned her hands so the palms faced upwards and placed them next to her head. Melissa felt as if she was worshiping Nala. Was this really what slaves did? She wondered. Melissa had no frame of reference. And she hadn’t seen any other slaves here. She felt the urge to get up again.

“That’s good. Now your feet. Spread them a bit.”

Melissa spread her legs until her hobble chain went taut.

“Well done!” Nala praised her. “That’s the submissive pose you need to take when someone enters your stall.”

Melissa turned her palms to the ground and pushed herself up into a sitting position, readying herself to get up. “That is quite intense,” she said.

“Stay!” Nala exclaimed. “Once you put yourself into a submissive pose you cannot dismiss yourself from it. Go back into the submissive pose, Melissa.”

Grudgingly, Melissa returned to the demeaning pose, placing her head back in front of Nala’s feet and turning her palms upwards.

“I realize you are not from here and you really have no understanding of the culture. When you are in the submissive pose it means that you are handing control over yourself to the free person coming into the stall. And that means you need his permission to break position. You basically have to stay like that until the handler tells you otherwise. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa sighed at Nala’s feet.

“Alright, let’s try this. You may rise, Melissa.”

Melissa got up from the floor. She was shaken by this experience.

Nala left the stall, shut the door and took a few steps back. “When you see me approaching, Melissa, you should get ready. You have to be in submissive pose when the door opens.”

Nala walked back to the door. Melissa looked at her dumbfounded. Was this really happening? Nala put the key in the lock and started turning. Melissa sighed and forced herself to go to the opposite wall, facing the door. Then, she prostrated herself before the door as prescribed so she was at Nala’s feet when Nala opened the door.

“Good!” Nala said. It sounded like she was smiling and happy with her, but Melissa couldn’t see Nala’s face from her vantage point.

Nala walked past her into the stall. “That was a good start,” she said. “But you need to be much faster. I opened the door very slowly to give you enough time.”

“Can I get up now?”

“Melissa, you really have to stop speaking like a free woman,” she said. “I just told you something. You have to acknowledge it with ‘Yes, Ma’am’.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Sorry Ma’am.”

After a pause Melissa asked, “Can I get up now, Ma’am?”

Nala sighed. “Melissa, here is another thing. As a free woman I can talk to you whenever I want. But if you want to address me from the submissive pose, you have to ask for permission to speak first.”

Melissa desperately sighed on the inside. “May I speak, Ma’am?”

“That’s better. Look at it this way: You are in the submissive pose. That means you are telling me that I have full control over you. And that means that if you want to ask a question, you need some of that control back. That is why you have to ask me for permission to speak. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” It actually did make sense to Melissa, but the logic of the behavioral rules Nala was imposing on her, made her despair.

“Yes, you may speak,” Nala responded to Melissa’s earlier question.

“Can I get up, Ma’am?”

“Yes, you can, Melissa,” Nala said.

Melissa slowly rose to her feet, jarred by the experience.

“You always need permission to get out of the submissive pose. The permission can be given explicitly or implicitly. When you asked me for permission to get up I explicitly gave you permission. But if your handler orders you to do something that requires you to get out of the submissive pose, then the permission has been given implicitly. Or if your handler leaves you, then you can get up as well. That is also implicit permission to break position.

Or, simply put: Once you are in submissive pose, you can’t decide to break position on your own. It is up to your handler to release you from it.”

Melissa gulped and nodded. This was a lot to take in. She didn’t like any of it. She felt like she was being trained like an animal and Nala was the animal tamer in charge of her.

“Ok, let’s try this again, but I’ll go at normal speed. Ready?”

Melissa nodded tiredly.

Nala stepped out of the stall again, stepped away down the corridor a few meters and then said, “Ok, here we go!” And started walking back.

She walked to the stall door and Melissa rushed to the back of the cage, her ankle chains making hecting clinking noises.

Nala had reached the door. She started turning the key.

Melissa tried to lower herself on the cement floor quickly, but without slamming herself down. She was careful to slow her descent before her breasts made contact with the floor. The cement was unyielding, placing her breasts on it felt like pressing into a hard pillow. Her head reached the floor just when Nala pulled the door open, standing in front of her. Melissa hastily brought her hands to her head and turned her palms upward. This was too late because the door was already open and Nala was standing before her, but Melissa hoped that Nala would overlook this.

“Better,” Nala commented. “But you should be done putting yourself into this position by the time I’ve entered the cell. Let’s try this again.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Melissa suppressed a sigh.

Nala picked up on Melissa’s impatience, “Hey Melissa, this is already pretty good. But it is not quite right when you are still fixing yourself up when your handler enters your stall. The idea here is that it is you who should be waiting for your handler, not the other way around.”

They repeated this several times. Nala kept entering the stall and Melissa tried to be fast enough to prostate herself before her by the time the door was opened. It was a drill. Melissa was panting, but she had learned to move more quickly and that she could save some time by not going on all fours, but going down on her hands directly and then placing them next to her head while she was lowering herself and then immediately turning them up. Nala drilled the submissive pose into Melissa to make sure she would perform the pose reliably. Melissa felt like a dog being conditioned to report to her master’s feet upon the opening of a door. Melissa didn’t like it.

“You’re doing well,” Nala said as she entered Melissa’s stall once more. “Don’t forget to spread your feet.”

Melissa spread her legs. Then she was lying before Nala in the prescribed position.

Nala walked past her into the stall. Melissa was keeping her palms upward. It was an unnatural position that forced her to maintain a constant effort. Melissa relaxed her arms and her hands naturally turned inwards with the thumb at the top.

Nala noticed this lapse. “Don’t break position!” Nala admonished her.

Damn, she noticed, Melissa thought, tensed her arms and turned her palms upward again.

“Do you know why the palms have to be upward in this position?” Nala asked her.

Does she really want to have a conversation with me while I’m like this? Melissa thought to herself. She racked her brain, trying to come up with reasons why having palms up might be a good idea. It didn’t make any sense to her. And she found it awkward to converse like this with a standing person and that made it hard for her to think clearly.

“No, Ma’am,” Melissa replied weakly from the floor.

“The reason is that historically masters wanted to make sure that the slaves were unarmed. It is hard to conceal a weapon when you are naked, but slaves might still hold a weapon in their hand. By turning your palms upward you are showing that you are unarmed. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa dutifully replied.

“It is good if you know the reasons for these things. That makes them easier to remember. You will be less likely to forget to hold your hands like this when you remember that you are showing your handler that you are not holding any weapon in your hands.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Melissa felt like she had spent a lot of time on the floor by now. But Nala wasn’t done yet, “The rules for slaves exist for a reason, Melissa. They have evolved over a long time in this country. If you make an effort to understand them, you will probably do the right thing. Don’t just memorize postures or other rules. Try to understand why the rules exist and you will be less likely to misstep.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” This was going on forever. It felt so awkward to converse like this with a standing person. “Can I get up now, Ma’am?”

“Melissa, what did we just discuss?”

Melissa was confused. Then she remembered. “Sorry, Ma’am. May I speak Ma’am?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Can I get up now, Ma’am?”

“No, not yet,” Nala replied.

Melissa was surprised. She had considered her asking a formality; she had not expected Nala to deny her permission to rise. By doing so Nala was forcing her to remain lying on the ground.

“Your feet,” Nala continued, “Why do you have to keep them apart?”

Melissa knew that spreading her legs provided a view of her private parts. Men would certainly take advantage of this. She didn’t want to admit this to Nala.

“I don’t know, Ma’am,” she replied.

“It is about your ankle chains,” Nala said. “You are hobbled so you can’t run. But slaves might find a way to break the hobble chain while they are unsupervised. If they keep their feet together, they can conceal this. The handler might be taken by surprise and the slave could try to run. By spreading your feet you are showing your handler that your hobble chain is intact so he knows that you can’t run. Does that make sense, Melissa?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa acknowledged.

“You don’t have to spread your feet so far that the chain is taut as you are doing now, Melissa. The chain can hang. What is important is that it is fully visible to your handler so he knows you are hobbled. Ok?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa said, moving her feet close together to release the tension on her ankle shackles.

“Good,” Nala said. “You are currently not handcuffed. But if you were, you would hold your hands out in front of you. In that case it is important that you don’t cross your hands, which might conceal the chain. Can you guess why?”

“So my handler knows that my handcuffs are intact,” Melissa responded.

“Exactly,” Nala said. “You are showing your handler that you have not slipped your cuffs or broken your chains. I think you are getting the idea now. There is one more thing about this position,” she continued. “Can you guess what it is?”

Melissa wondered what that was supposed to mean. Why would she be able to guess the subtleties of these demeaning slave postures?

“No, Ma’am,” Melissa replied, wishing this lesson to be over.

“Well, when handlers come to your stall, then the reason will often be to pick you up,” Nala explained. “And when they do that, they may wish to restrain you. This is done while you are in the submissive pose.”

Nala took out the handcuffs. “When a handler takes out the handcuffs, you must be ready to be bound,” she said.

Nala approached Melissa near her head. “Hold your hands out in front of you, wrists close together,” she instructed.

Melissa held her hands in front of her, crossing her wrists.

Nala pretended she wanted to cuff Melissa, but just held the handcuffs over her wrists. “No, don’t cross your wrists. Hold them next to each other so I can put the cuffs on you without having to move your hands.”

Melissa raised her head so she could see the handcuffs Nala was holding in front of her and positioned each wrist under one cuff. Before Nala had made her do this, Melissa had been able to press the backs of her hands against the cement floor to bear some of her weight. Now that Nala was making her stretch her arms before her, she could no longer do that, and her breasts were pushing into the cement. She felt the hardness of the cement on the breasts. It was not painful but uncomfortable. At least for now. Melissa hoped this would be over soon.

“Good,” Nala said and stood up. “Remember how you are holding your arms now. That is the forward binding position within the submissive pose. When you see that your handler wants to cuff you in front, then you go into this position without him needing to ask. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa said miserably.

“Good. Your handler might also choose that he wants to cuff you behind your back. It is the same again. If you see him approach you with handcuffs near your back, then you place your hands on your back, ready for cuffing, ok?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa whispered.

“Ok, let’s try this,” Nala said and approached Melissa at the level of her buttocks. Melissa obediently shifted her hands to her back.

“Closer, Melissa. Put your wrists closer together… yes like that, good,” Nala commented as Melissa pushed her arms together behind her back to make it as easy as possible to restrain her.

“That’s it, really. Not that hard, is it?” Nala asked.

“No, Ma’am,” Melissa said, though she did find it hard that she had to assist so much in her own control.

“Any questions?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“You may get up then.”

Melissa brought her arm back to her front, pushed herself up and got back on her feet. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Arbek would not make her do these things. Once she got out of here she would no longer have to put herself into these demeaning poses.

“One more thing, Melissa,” Nala added. “When a handler is in the stall with you as I am now, and leaves, you have to go into submissive pose as well.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Can you guess why?”

“To show my submission?”

“No, Melissa. Try to see the logic in these protocols. They were made to keep slaves in check. Look, if I leave your stall,” Nala turned from Melissa and started walking towards the door, “then I have to turn my back to you, right?”

“Mmmhmm”, Melissa gave an affirmative grunt, wondering when this lesson would be over.

“And that would give a slave an opportunity to attack, do you see?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I could leave without turning my back to you by walking out of the stall backwards. That way I could keep my eyes on you. But what would be wrong with that?”

“You couldn’t see where you were going, Ma’am,” Melissa replied. “It would not be safe.”

“No, Melissa, that is not the point. The master should not have to feel unsafe or have to go out of his way to ensure his safety. It is your job as a slave to make sure he does not have to worry about you being a threat. And you do that, by going into the submissive pose when you see he is about to leave. You can not attack when you are in the submissive pose. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Ok that’s great Melissa. I actually do have to go now,” Nala said, picking up the empty food containers and bottles and putting them into the plastic bag. She took the plastic bag and turned towards the door. When she was halfway she turned and looked at Melissa who was standing there.

Melissa looked back at her. It took her a moment, then she understood. Melissa lowered herself to the ground, as she had learned, put her head to the floor before Nala’s feet and placed her hands next to her head, hands up as she had just learned.

“Very good, Melissa. Remember this. It will keep you out of trouble. I’ll see you later!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Melissa replied from the floor.

Nala left the stall and slammed the door shut, locking Melissa in. When Melissa heard her walking away, she stood up, walked to the wall and sat down next to the bars.

Melissa's emotions were a tangled mess from the humiliating training under Nala's instruction. She had entered this world with no understanding of its customs or expectations. Each directive from Nala felt like a step further into an alien existence. As she had reluctantly assumed the submissive pose, a strong sense of degradation had washed over her. The physical act of placing herself in such a vulnerable position, her body pressed against the hard, cold floor, was not just physically uncomfortable but also struck a deep chord of indignity within her.

Melissa couldn't shake the feeling she was becoming a trained animal to be handled and restrained at will. This realization was accompanied by a budding fear; the fear of what it meant to live under such conditions, how long this would last. Nala had said she might be held here for two weeks. She couldn’t help but worry to what extent her identity would be reshaped by her time here.

Beneath her outward compliance, anger simmered quietly. The anger was not explosive but a deep, seething resentment that she knew she must keep hidden, for to show it might only worsen her situation.

Melissa was waiting for when she would be released from here so she could reclaim some semblance of control or dignity. She was learning to navigate this harsh reality, but each lesson made her feel a longing for the life of the free woman she had been before.

Melissa heard the door open and people come in and make a commotion. She couldn’t see them. Although she was sitting against the side wall of her cage near the bars, the side wall opposite from her extended beyond the bars by about two feet and blocked her view. As they came nearer, she saw the cattle prods on their belts. They were pushing a wheelbarrow and using buckets to top up the feed for the animals in the troughs of their stalls.

When they were close to her, they filled up the troughs of the stalls opposite of her although there were no animals in them. One of the workers took a tray that had been in the wheelbarrow and came near her cage.

Melissa tensed. This was for her. Would the worker open her cage to give her the tray? Did this mean she had to go into the submissive pose Nala had taught her to avoid being punished?

To her relief, the worker just pushed the tray through the feeding slot at the bottom of her stall’s door. He gave her a smile and moved on.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said.

Melissa took off the aluminum foil and found cooked lentils with cucumber. She had a few spoons of the dish but she was grateful that Nala had brought her good food already earlier.

She saw workers bringing animals into the empty stalls. They ignored her.

Later a worker came with a bucket. She had expected him to walk past her cage, but he stopped and took out his keys from her pocket. She looked up at him. He was beginning to unlock her door and looking at her.

Startled, she remembered Nala’s lessons from earlier. Was he expecting her to prostate herself before him? She wondered. The man had frozen with the key in the door and was glaring at her.

Hastily she got up, scurried to her feet and hurried to the wall. Then she laid herself to the ground, as Nala had taught her, front first and palms up.

The man unfroze and unlocked the door. He entered her cell with the bucket.

“This is for you,” he said and put the bucket in the corner of the stall. “You can use it if you need to go to the bathroom.” Then he went back to the exit. “Well,” he said, “don’t you have something to say?”

“Thank you, Sir,” Melissa replied dutifully from her position on the ground.

The man exited the cage and slammed the door shut, locking her in.

Once he was gone, Melissa got up again and checked the bucket. It was a large bucket with a lid.

Melissa sighed and went back to sit against the wall near the bars of her cage.

15. Back to the White Hall

Melissa heard the hall door creak open, followed by the sound of footsteps echoing off the concrete. Her heart sank as she saw Killian approaching her stall.

She tensed. Was he here for her? When he appeared at her stall, his gaze fixed on her, she knew he was. The question now was whether he expected her to assume the submissive pose. Uncertainty gripped her; Killian had a twisted pleasure in using the cattle prod on her, and any misstep could provoke him.

Deciding against giving him any reason to use the prod, Melissa chose the lesser of two evils. She despised the submissive pose, but the pain from the cattle prod was worse. So, she resolved to err on the side of caution.

Killian started unlocking the door.

As Killian began to unlock her door, Melissa did not rise to her feet. Instead, from where she sat, she maneuvered her body forward, transitioning to her knees, and then lowered herself onto the cement floor. She positioned herself parallel to the bars, her head pointed towards the door, and placed her hands beside her head, palms up and legs spread as Nala had taught her.

Killian stepped into the stall.

"Very good," he remarked with an approving tone.

Despite being in the demeaning position she was, Melissa was jubilant on the inside. Killian had praised her. That meant she had made the right decision. She was less likely to be tortured at his hands.

Melissa's ears picked up the sound of his cattle prod being unholstered, the familiar crackle of electricity sparking to life, though out of her sight. He hadn't used it on her yet, merely toying with the device, savoring the anticipation.

He leisurely moved beside her, settling into a half-kneeling position. The cold tip of the cattle prod pressed against the space between her shoulder blades, sending a shiver of fear through her body.

Melissa tensed. He was playing with her, she thought. He would not shock her. Not now, when she had followed the rules. She should be safe.

The prod traced a path down her spine, a mockingly gentle touch, reaching the small of her back without delivering its painful jolt. He shifted his position to continue his torment, the prod now moving from the base of her spine, tracing over her buttocks, still without discharging its electric charge.

Melissa was deeply uncomfortable. She silently pleaded for him to cease this torment. Although Killian hadn't administered a shock yet, the threat of it was enough to torment her. She reminded herself not to move from her position; Nala had been clear that breaking position without permission was forbidden. She suspected that Killian was baiting her, waiting for any sign of an evasive movement that would justify punishment. She was determined not to give him a pretense for torturing her, despite the difficulty.

The cattle prod then moved over her buttocks, tracing them in an up-and-down motion. As it descended, Killian tilted the device so that instead of pointing down, it was angled inward toward Melissa's body. Eventually, he pressed it against her anus.

Melissa couldn’t take it anymore. This was serving no purpose other than to inflict psychological distress on her. Still, she maintained her position, longing for this ordeal to end.

"Killian, please don't," Melissa begged, her voice laced with desperation.

"Did you just speak without permission?" Killian questioned teasingly.

"I'm sorry, Sir!" Melissa exclaimed, immediately regretting her mistake. She was concerned; had she just given him the excuse he was waiting for to use the prod?

"May I speak, Sir?"

"And I'm pretty sure you didn't use 'Sir' before," he noted. "Alright. You may speak. What is it you want to say?"

“Killian, please don’t shock me there,” Melissa implored. The prod still rested against her anus, and fear of punishment kept her in place.

“Why not?” Killian asked.

“Because it will be very painful and I don’t deserve it!” Melissa's words spilled out before she could stop them. She felt the prod tap against her twice, a subtle warning. She hastily corrected herself, "Sir!"

"You did speak without permission," he reminded her.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I promise it won't happen again, Sir. Please, take the cattle prod away from there, Sir!"

“You will be on your best behavior then?” he asked playfully.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll do whatever you say. Just don’t touch me there with the cattle prod, Sir.”

"Ok, I’ll give you a chance," Killian conceded. “Well done, not breaking position.”

Melissa felt the cold metal electrodes of the cattle prod withdraw from her anus, and a wave of relief washed over her as she let out a long breath.

Melissa felt some pride. She was proud that she had managed not to break position. Killian had tested her and she had passed the test. But she had forgotten to ask for permission to speak and she had forgotten to say ‘Sir’. That had almost gotten her into trouble. She resolved to do better in the future.

“Thank you, Sir,” Melissa whispered.

She heard the familiar crackle of electricity, indicating that Killian had activated the prod. However, it wasn't making contact with her flesh. He simply enjoyed wielding the device. That shock had been for her, if she had broken position.

Killian rose and moved to the side wall in front of her head, where he casually leaned back.

"You know," he started, "I've been informed that my earlier use of the cattle prod on you might have been excessive."

Yes, Nala gave you a piece of her mind, Melissa thought to herself. She had witnessed that confrontation, but she kept her silence.

"Apparently, it's not conducive to good animal management," he went on. "I will try to use it more sparingly from now on."

You just put me through hell with that thing! Melissa thought bitterly. Even if you didn't deliver a shock, the threat alone was torment enough.

“What do you say, Melissa,” Killian continued. “Are we good?”

No, we are far from good, Melissa thought to herself, her mind reeling. You've just toyed with me for your own twisted amusement, and now you expect forgiveness?

If she were still free, if she had rights, Melissa would have confronted him with the full force of her indignation. She found it hard to believe that only a day ago she had been free. But freedom or rights were no longer hers, and she was compelled to comply. Naked on the ground, at the mercy of her tormentor, she had no option but to give the one response he expected.

"Yes, Sir."

"Excellent," Killian replied with satisfaction.

He took out handcuffs.

Melissa heard the familiar clink of steel. She tried to glance up to make sure, but she couldn’t see that high. He was going to restrain her. Nala had taught her what she must do. She must offer him her hands for binding.

Killian moved closer, positioning himself near her hips. Melissa obediently placed her hands behind her back, attempting to align her wrists as closely as Nala had shown her.

“Very good,” Killian complimented when he saw Melissa wrists positioned correctly for him. Her skin was still marked from this morning's cuffs. “You really are on your best behavior, Melissa.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Melissa hated that she had to say this, but did feel oddly thankful for his acknowledgment and proud that she had managed to follow the slave protocol to Killian’s satisfaction, which she hoped meant he would not hurt her.

He snapped the handcuffs around her wrists. Melissa felt the familiar coolness of the steel of the handcuffs tighten around the skin of her still sore wrists.

“Stand up,” Killian ordered.

With her hands now cuffed behind her back, Melissa faced the challenge of rising. Without the use of her arms, she rolled onto her side, drew her legs up, and pushed with her bound hands against the concrete to lift her torso over her bent knees. She then leveraged herself upward.

Killian made no move to assist her.

“Let’s go,” he said, giving her a playful slap on her bottom.

Melissa stepped out of the stall, the sound of her hobble chain scraping against the concrete floor underfoot. She paused to wait for Killian's lead. Standing upright, her nudity was once again on display, her breasts and vagina no longer concealed as they had been in the submissive pose. She felt exposed and vulnerable, longing for the ability to cover herself, but her cuffed arms prevented any such comfort.

Killian exited right behind her.

“What will happen to me now, Sir?”

“The veterinarian wants to see you. Some checks, I guess. Where’s your leash?" he inquired.

“Nala took it with her, Sir,” Melissa replied.

“Ok no problem,” Killian responded casually. He hooked a finger through the D-ring of Melissa's collar and tugged it sharply down to his hip.

Caught off guard, Melissa felt the collar's edge press painfully into her neck. The jolt of pain instinctively forced her to follow his motion. She gasped in surprise, her body bending forward as she moved next to him, her head awkwardly turned, her eyes fixed on his crotch.

The collar, now tight around her throat, made her cough as it momentarily restricted her airway during the abrupt pull. Regaining her balance was difficult without the use of her arms, which were chained behind her back. Anger bubbled within Melissa; she hadn't provoked this treatment, and it wasn't her fault that she was without a leash—Nala had taken it. The stress of the position Killian forced her into made her sweat.

As Killian began to walk, Melissa was compelled to match his pace, her head kept at an uncomfortable angle by Killian’s tight grip on her collar, forcing her to look at Killian’s crotch. Melissa couldn’t see where they were going. The collar prevented her from looking ahead; each time she tried, the collar pressed against her windpipe, causing her both pain and difficulty breathing. She concentrated on matching Killian’s pace to minimize the pain as they walked while hearing the echoing jangle of her hobble chain.

[hoggle123]

16. Meeting the Veterinarian

Melissa did everything she could to keep her neck steady in her collar as she shuffled next to Killian. His grip on her collar was unrelenting, making her keep her head at an angle where she could only see his crotch. She had to match his pace; otherwise, the top of the collar would jam into her jaw, force an awkward tilt of her head, while the other side would press uncomfortably into her neck.

"Please, slow down, Sir!" Melissa kept pleading as they walked. Killian wasn't hurrying. In fact, he was walking at his usual, leisurely pace. However, for Melissa, his speed seemed rushed as she was forced to move in a bent over posture. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, which impaired her balance and would make a fall disastrous. Her ankles were shackled together. The length of the hobble chain was generous, but it was still a new and intimidating obstacle she feared tripping over. At times, when she fell out of step with Killian, the collar pressed on her windpipe and caused her to cough.

Killian eventually reduced his speed, but only after her requests had become increasingly distressed.

They reached the white room where a workbench stood, a chain dangling from its headboard. There was a sink adjacent to it, from which a hose coiled. Here, Killian released her collar from his grip, allowing Melissa to straighten and breathe freely again.

He unlocked her handcuffs and instructed her to mount the workbench. Once she was settled on it, he fastened the chain to her collar, securing her in place.



Killian stated that she was sweaty. He was right. It had been the stress of keeping up with him that had caused her to sweat. He detached the hose from the nearby sink and proceeded to hose Melissa down. She instinctively lifted her arms to shield her face from the forceful spray. He instructed her to rise to her knees and place her hands at the back of her head, which she did, allowing him to rinse her front. He then directed her to turn, and he cleaned her back and her feet.

Afterwards, he left, leaving her alone.

Melissa remained chained to the workbench, waiting to be tended to. She squeezed the water from her hair, and it trickled down from the bench in a slow drip.

Eventually, Nala arrived. Upon noticing Melissa's wet state, she fetched a towel and began to dry both Melissa and the bench.

Melissa asked Nala what she would do to her. Nala replied she was prepping Melissa for the upcoming visit from the veterinarian.

Nala stepped away briefly, returning with a set of curved metal plates linked by a hinge. When held together, they created a series of four openings along the plates.

Melissa eyed the device with dread and resignation. She didn’t know what it was but she had a bad feeling about it. She was chained by her neck to this workbench. And her naked body provided ample target surface to shock her into submission with a cattle prod. Whatever it was they had in mind for her, it would be done to her regardless of how she felt about it.

Nala placed the contraption on the workbench.

“What is that?” Melissa asked.

"It's a safety device we use to ensure you remain stationary during treatment," Nala answered. "Sudden movements from animals can jeopardize medical procedures."

By now, Melissa scarcely reacted to being called an "animal," her attention primarily captured by this ominous tool. Her gaze was fixed on it, full of suspicion.

“Kneel and face towards the sink,” Nala instructed.

Eager to remain in Nala's favor, Melissa followed the instructions.

Nala positioned the device behind Melissa’s feet, aligning the bars from herself to the headboard with the hinge at its side. She then unfolded the device. The lower part stayed on the workbench, while the upper part arched up and then back down, resting against the headboard.

Nala removed Melissa’s ankle chains.

"Place your ankles in the outer holes," Nala instructed.

Melissa glanced back at the apparatus. She inserted her left ankle into the first opening. To fit her right ankle into the adjacent hole, she had to splay her knees wide apart.

"Good," Nala acknowledged. "Now, reach back through your legs and insert your hands into the central holes."

Melissa had never encountered a device like this before, and the thought of being trapped in it filled her with fear. She wanted nothing more than to avoid it, but she knew resistance was futile; eventually, she'd be forced into it anyway. Disobedience would only earn her the painful touch of the cattle prod, and more importantly, it would jeopardize her relationship with Nala, the only one who spoke to her like a human, even if she didn't treat her as an equal. With a resigned sigh, Melissa complied, stretching her arms between her legs to place her hands into the designated slots.

It was too far away, so Nala helped her by sliding the device further towards her so she could reach it more easily.

Once positioned, Nala lowered the upper bar, effectively clamping Melissa's limbs between the two metal sheets. Nala then locked the two plates together.



Melissa was immobilized. She found herself confined in a device akin to a pillory, with no room to maneuver. Her position left her exposed, her buttocks elevated and legs forced wide, providing unhindered access to her most private areas. Her hands, secured within the device, pulled her shoulders down, her face pressed against the workbench. She could muster just enough strength to temporarily raise her torso to survey her surroundings, but the strain on her shoulders soon compelled her to rest her head back down.

When she attempted to close her legs to shield her exposure, a sharp pain shot through her legs, her limbs were firmly restrained by the restraining pillory.

She sighed audibly.

Nala, noticing her discomfort, approached and tenderly ran her fingers through Melissa's hair, making soothing sounds.

"Try to stay calm, Melissa. It will be alright. The vet is on his way, and once he’s done with you, you'll be let out of the restraining pillory," Nala reassured her.

Nala took out a tube. She gently turned Melissa’s head so she was facing the wall. Then Nala took some cream out of the tube and rubbed it into Melissa’s right ear.

“What are you doing?” Melissa asked.

“Doctor’s orders,” Nala replied. “He asked me to put some on your ear.”

Melissa didn’t ask any further. What Nala was doing wasn’t causing her any pain and that was all she was worried about at the moment.

When she was done, Nala left.

With a sigh, Melissa turned her head to the other side so she could watch what was going on in the hall. She rested her head on the workbench and waited.

After a while the vet arrived with Nala. He had a briefcase that he put on the workbench behind Melissa. He took out a clipboard and went to where Melissa’s head was. He read out “Melissa Maurer”.

Melissa looked up at him from her awkward position and said, “Yes, Sir.”

The vet reached for her collar. Melissa raised her head up so he would have easier access. She heard the chain drag along the workbench as it got pulled up with her collar. The vet checked the number on the tag that was affixed to her collar and compared it to his notes. Everything seemed to be in order.

“What will you do to me, Sir?” Melissa asked. In her vulnerable and immobilized state, she remembered the “Sir”. It would be too easy to inflict pain on her in this position.

The vet seemed surprised at first that Melissa would ask him a direct question.

“We have to apply identification,” he said. “It is done for all livestock imports these days.”

Melissa didn’t know what that meant.

The vet rummaged in his suitcase. Then he came back to her. She saw him hold what looked like a syringe in his hand. The needle was not long, but it looked unusually thick.

“Please hold still, Miss Maurer,” he told her.

“No!” Melissa said, lifting her upper body up as much as she could, which wasn’t much. “What is that?” She struggled against the restraining pillory but this just caused her pain in her wrists and ankles, which made her hiss in pain. but it didn’t allow her any movement so she gave up.

“Miss Maurer, please stay calm,” the vet said. To Nala he said, “If you could please, Miss Tadesse.”

Nala came around and gently but firmly pushed Melissa’s upper body down. Lifting her upper body up in the restraining pillory was taxing for Melissa and so it took little strength on Nala’s part to gently push her down on the workbench. Nala made calming sounds and stroked Melissa’s head while holding her down.

Melissa heard a spray and felt a cool moisture on her back. A few seconds later she picked up the smell of ethanol that reminded her of hospitals.

A few moments later Melissa felt the pain of the needle between her shoulder blades. The needle was big and inserting it hurt. It felt like the vet was pushing the needle deep into her somewhere next to her spine. Melissa groaned from the pain of the injection.

Finally the vet pulled the needle out. Melissa heard him put the syringe back into his suitcase. Nala let go of Melissa.

“See, it is done now,” she said, stroking her one last time before letting go.

When he came back, he pushed a bandaid on the injection site.

“What was that, Sir?” Melissa asked.

“A microchip, Miss Maurer,” the vet explained.

“You have chipped me?” Melissa was incredulous, lifting her upper body up in anger.

Nala gently pushed her back down on the table and stroked her hair to calm her.

“Yes,” the vet said, not caring that she had forgotten to use the honorific.

He rested his elbow on Melissa’s upraised buttocks as if it was a piece of furniture, looked at her and lectured, "The chip contains a unique identifier that links to your comprehensive health record. This allows for immediate access to your medical history, including vaccinations, diagnoses, and other pertinent health information upon scanning. This technology eliminates the need for physical files, streamlining data management. Similar systems are utilized in livestock management to maintain continuity of care when animals change ownership, and to prevent identity fraud or theft. In the event of theft, this chip can facilitate the verification of ownership and support in recovery efforts. Additionally, it aids in tracking for breeding and health management programs."

“How could you do that!” Melissa cried out. Her face was red with impotent anger. “My owner did not authorize this!”

"Miss Maurer, the implantation of a microchip is now a routine practice for imported livestock. This procedure has been standard for several years."

“Can it be removed?”

"If your owner desires, the chip can be removed, although it's located near the spinal cord, which complicates the procedure and is generally not recommended. The chip's purpose is to serve as a lifelong identifier, ensuring that any veterinarian can access your complete health records instantly. This not only simplifies medical care but also benefits you by ensuring consistent and accurate medical attention wherever you are. The chip allows for health data to be accessed via a smartphone with the ‘MooTag Explorer’ App, negating the need for paper records which are prone to loss or damage."

Anyone with a smartphone could access all of her health data. “‘MooTag?” she asked.

“It was initially used to track tagged cows but then people realized it could be used for any chipped or ear tagged animal.”

"Allow me a moment to verify,” the veterinarian said to pulled out his smartphone. He tapped around a bit, then he said, “yes, here we are. I've successfully scanned your chip from this distance, which indicates that it's functioning well. These advanced chips are designed for ease of access from several meters away. At present, your health file shows no entries, but we will soon populate it with the data from your upcoming tests."

Nala was making shushing sounds and stroking Melissa’s hair to calm her down.

Then the veterinarian returned with what looked like a pincer and a yellow plastic tag.

“What are you doing to me?” Melissa asked.

“Miss Maurer, please turn your head to face the wall, if you would."

“What is that?” Melissa with some fear.

"This is an identification ear tag I will affix to you," the veterinarian replied.

“What?” Melissa was confused. Then she realized what the veterinarian was planning. “No! Please! You can’t do that to me!”

Melissa struggled to pull her hands out of the restraining pillory, but there was hardly any visible movement. Melissa hissed in pain. She felt trapped and was panting as panic built up in her.

Nala made shushing noises and gently guided her head so she was facing the wall with her right ear up. The vet went to where Nala was standing and Nala moved to make room for him.

“It will be quick,” Nala reassured her. “Just hold still for one more moment and then it will be over.”

The vet gently held her head in place while positioning the ear tagger.

Nala in the meantime moved down to the end of the table where Melissa’s feet were. She held Melissa’s clamped down hands in her own. She pressed them to show her moral support. Melissa tried not to imagine what she must look like to Nala from her point of view. In her desperation she was clutching to any sign of support regardless how small and held Nala’s hands in return.

Melissa screamed as the ear tagger pierced her ear and affixed the ear tag to her. After the initial shock Melissa noticed that while her ear felt uncomfortable, the pain was not as bad as she had feared. The scream had been out of fear and the knowledge that the ear tag would be stapled to her ear with a short but sturdy metal rod which without anesthetic would have been painful.

She remembered the cream that Nala had applied on the ear after she had locked her into the restraining pillory. It must have been an anesthetic. Still, she was angry about what had been done to her.

“How could you do that to me! I’m not cattle! You had no right to do that!”

Nala let go of one of her hands and stroked her lower leg, the one closest to her, to calm Melissa.

“It is over now,” Nala said to her in a calming voice.

Melissa fell silent, feeling defeated. She was tightly restrained, restricting almost all movement. The veterinarian could do anything he wanted with her, and she was powerless to resist. Nala had mentioned that the ordeal was over, suggesting that the worst had passed and things might improve.

She couldn’t imagine what she looked like now. This was getting worse all the time. From the initial collar, to being stripped naked, and now, being chipped and tagged like cattle. Melissa decided she would ask Arbek to remove the ear tag at the earliest opportunity. She hoped she could get the chip out too.

Nala had let go of her hands and started applying some disinfecting gel to her ear.

“Miss Tadesse, please monitor Miss Maurer to ensure the bleeding ceases,” the vet instructed Nala. “Once you've confirmed that all is well, you may release her from the restraining device.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Nala replied.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Tadesse,” the vet said to Nala and “Miss Maurer” to Melissa. Then he left.

Nala took out a disinfecting wipe and gently cleaned Melissa’s ear.

“The bleeding should stop soon,” she told Melissa. I’ll be back to check on you.

With that, Nala left Melissa in the restraining pillory on the workbench. Melissa left her head facing the wall so the tag would be on top to avoid pressure on it. And waited. She felt as if her ear was pulsating. She knew the procedure must have been painful, but the analgesic cream was strong and muted the pain down to a discomfort. Still, she knew that she couldn’t rest her head on her right ear at the moment, so she made sure to keep it up.

Melissa’s shoulders were feeling uncomfortable from being held down by the restraining pillory. After what felt like an eternity, but was really just fifteen minutes, Nala returned.

She inspected the ear and seemed satisfied. She cleaned it again with a wipe and applied some more of the analgesic cream.

Then she unlocked the bars of the restraining pillory that was holding Melissa down and folded the upper bar open.

Melissa breathed in a sigh of relief as her hands were released from this device. Her face and her eyes were still reddish from the stress and crying. She placed herself upright and pushed her shoulders back, now that she finally could do that again. Her hands immediately went to her right ear to feel the tag that had been affixed to her ear.

She winced as her fingers brushed against the tender spot. She tried pulling at the tag, but the pain stopped her.

Nala took a hold of her hands.

"Don't touch it. The wound has to heal."

Nala left and Melissa, who was still chained to the headboard, sat up and leaned against the headboard, still struck by what had just been done to her. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it. She was under the control of the Health Office. Once she was with Arbek she would ask him to remove the ear tag. It had to go as soon as possible. Even when Arbek set her free, the ear tag had to go. She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to England with an ear tag for everyone to see.

After about another fifteen minutes Nala returned with a glass of water and two pills.

“Take the pills,” she said, ”they will help with the pain.”

The last thing Melissa wanted was pain, so she complied and took Nala’s pills and washed them down with water.

“Let me check your ear,” Nala said. “Lay down on the table with your right ear up.”

Melissa complied and Nala inspected her ear.

“It looks good,” she said. “The bleeding has stopped.”

Nala cleaned Melissa’s ear again with a disinfectant wipe. “Try not to touch it, Melissa. The wound has to heal, ok?”

Melissa nodded. Then Nala let Melissa sit up.

“You don’t need this anymore,” Nala said and reached to Melissa’s collar to remove the tag she had attached to her collar in the morning. “Your ear tag will be used now to identify you.”

Nala unlocked the chain from the workbench so it functioned as a leash again.

“Come, let’s get you out of here,” Nala said.

——

Dear Reader,

Thanks for reading this far. If you've read the entire story up to here from the first chapter, you have read 87 pages!

As usual, what did you like, what didn't you like? Let me know what you think!

[lovethissite]

Wow this story gets better and better. Nala is obviously Melissa's slave trainer and I hope eventually, her mistress, she will need training in servicing females as well as males. After only one day Melissa is turning into a very trainable two legged animal tagged chipped obedient she it the perfect future pleasure slut in tow weeks she will be unrecognizable as anything other than a slave. i love your artwork I hope you truss her up again and denude her pussy and anus permanently and give her mistress orders to use all three holes with either dildoes or a group of male handlers. This is one of the best series I have read either on strip search or any other site in quite awhile and has tremendous potential keep up the great work.

[timerider]

Can't wait to see what happens next, in the up coming chapters.

[lovethissite]

I hope Nala continues Melissa's training and soon as Melissa makes mistakes Nala begins to zap her to help continue to break and mold her into a completely compliant slave. When Melissa returns to the vet for more tests and hopefully put back into he bound position this time to check Melissa's tightness of her pussy and anus and more tests. Melissa is then taken to the showers again by Killian this time doused with a gel. Melissa thinks the gel stinks and starts to burn. While hanging by her wrists stinging from the drying gel she begs Killian to spray this off. After about 20 minutes he starts spraying her down and Melissa realizes all her body hair is washing away and she screams which brings zaps again and she stops. Killian then tells her the gel permanently has removed all body hair. Melissa sees what he has done and she is further broken and is beginning to realize she is not going back to her old life. Melissa is chipped now, her ear is tagged, now he body is completely nude and her "friend" Nala is her mistress. As you can read I love this series and how it is getting a little darker. Thank you and please continue I'm hooked on this fantasy series.

[hoggle123]

Hey Guys!

Thanks for the encouraging comments! Much appreciated.

I have a question for the collective hive mind here: What is a good word for the restraining device that Melissa is locked into? I called it a “restraining pillory”. Is that really what it would be called or does anyone have a better name for it?

[lovethissite]

How about PSRD? Portable Slave Restraining Device. it could be used on all gender slaves. Available for 20 percent off cyber Monday deal for prime members.