"What do you mean, they're adding 'slave parade queens' to the 4th of July parade?" I asked my smiling husband. "They already have slave girls in the 4th of July parade. I mean, it is a local business. But what are queens?"
Walter leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his tea, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's simple, Julia. Local women can volunteer to march in the parade, naked, chained up with the other slave girls that the slave market puts in the slave parade. They set their own bid limit, and let strangers bid on them. If they hit that number, they're in the parade. The bids are collected, the girls march, and the money goes to charity."
I stared at him, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. "What on earth would possess a woman to do that?"
Walter shrugged nonchalantly. "Some might find it thrilling, others might want to see how much they could bring. Your bid reserve price is secret, but everyone can see the bid totals if you win. No pressure if no one bids, but otherwise, big time bragging rights, I guess." He took another sip of his tea, watching me intently over the rim. "You’re a woman, you tell me. And let's not forget, it's for a good cause. The more money the shelter gets, the more pets they can save. Sounds like it’s right up your street, so to speak,” he said, smiling.
Walter knew about my slave fantasies, and my work at the animal shelter. The thought of being ogled by the town, my clients, and even my son James' friends sent a shiver down my spine. Yet, the idea of being desired, the thrill of the taboo, and the potential to help the pet shelter had my heart racing.
"The pet shelter is my pet charity, pun intended," I admitted. "With government funds drying up they could really use the cash. I have half a mind to sign up, just to see what sort of bids I might bring," I joked.
Walter set down his tea with a knowing smile. "You know what, Julia? You really should. You've got nothing to lose and everything to gain."
"I couldn't do that. I mean... could I? You said the women would be chained up with the other slave girls. I mean... In case you didn't notice, those girls march naked, Walter."
Walter's eyes danced with excitement. "They call it 'slave naked', Sweetie. They're not just nude; they're completely bare, like they've been plucked from a harem. No jewelry, no ID, nothing. Just their collars. It's all for charity, Julia, and it's not like you've got anything to hide. You've got a smoking hot body that people would pay to see."
"Do you really think so?" I said, feeling a surge of pride. "I mean... do you really think anyone would bid, to see me naked?"
I wondered if Walter would dismiss my obvious attempt to fish for a compliment, but instead he reacted enthusiastically.
Walter's smile grew wider. "Oh, I do, Julia. You've always been the hottest girl in town. Heck you turn heads in every room you walk into, and you know it.”
“I’m well respected,” I countered.
“Bullshit. You’re respected, but men would pay good money to see a well-respected woman like you naked, especially in a setting like that. You're always in charge, in control. Closing the big deals, negotiating for the city, sitting on all the committees. They’d like to see you naked. No, slave naked. Marching down the street like a common Pleasure Slut. I imagine there's quite a few folks who'd like to see you taken down a few notches," he chuckled.
Walter’s grin was evil, but the thought of it all made me feel... alive. A thrill coursed through me, my heart racing with anticipation and a touch of fear. It was scandalous! But it was for the pet shelter… a very good cause.
"What about you, Walter. Would you like to see your boss-babe wife taken down a notch?"
Walter leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I would love to see you in that role, Julia. It's like a fantasy come to life. And knowing you, you'd rock it. You're so fiery and independent; the idea of you being paraded around in chains... it's intoxicating." His hand reached out and traced the side of my face, his thumb gently pressing against my bottom lip. "But it's not just me. The town would go wild for it. You're always so... proper, so in control. They'd eat it up. And imagine the bids you'd bring in for the shelter, everyone trying to make sure you got stripped down birthday bare for your big day."
I felt a shiver of excitement and a hint of trepidation at the thought. It was true, I had a reputation for being a bit overbearing at times. In my line of work, you had to be tough to get ahead. But to be on display like that, my usual armor of professionalism stripped away, leaving only my naked body to face the judgments of the townsfolk... It was both terrifying and oddly liberating.
"What will everyone say?" I asked, my voice quivering slightly.
Walter leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "They’ll say you're brave, Julia. That you're giving back to the community in a very unique way. And let's not forget the thrill of it all. The whispers, the bets, the secret admirers and enemies placing their bids. It's like you're going to be the star of the town's favorite reality show, except it's all for charity."
Walter paused to take another sip of his tea, letting the image play in my mind. "I would think you’d want to know what people think. You're going to find out just how many toes you've stepped on over the years, and maybe even make some friends among people who think you're too full of yourself."
I swallowed hard, trying to wrap my mind around the implications. "What if James' friends see me?"
Walter winked. "Damn right they're see you. Heck, they'll be in the front row. They’re in college, grown men, and they have every right to look over a slave girl. And let's face it, they've had crushes on you since James started bringing them over to play video games. This would be a dream come true for them. Besides, it's all in good fun, and I wouldn't be surprised if some of them made a donation, to see you strip.”
I gasped at the thought of my son's friends opening up their wallets to see my naked body, bidding the clothes off me like I was some floozy in a strip club. But the pulsing between my legs was undeniable. I had taken these boys for ice cream and driven them to games, and I still viewed them that way. I knew I was a long-time authority figure for all of them, but all that would change when they saw me in the parade.
"What if there are no other Queens?" I asked. "I don't want to be doing this alone."
"Don't worry. Slave Mart is going to be marching a dozen girls, and you'll be mixed in the coffle. Remember how they always auction off a couple of girls for charity at the Gazebo at the end of the parade? Filling a big old hole in the town budget makes everybody less grumpy about naked Pleasure Sluts marching in the parade. Everyone who bitches ends up getting a cut for their pet project. Money talks. Plus all the morality police is happy, because they get to see the auctioneer crack the whip and sell a few girls off. Money is made, and immoral women are punished and humiliated. What's not to like?"
"When I did the volunteer legal work for the campaign to get the Gazebo put in at the entrance to the park, I had pictured ice cream socials and band concerts, not some woman who couldn't make her mortgage payment bending over while some glib auctioneer chuckled and cracked a whip."
"By the way, I was one of the people arguing that having a slave market in town was sleazy."
"It is, but it makes a lot of money, and creates jobs, and keeps our tax base low," he countered. "We're lucky to have them. I think you marching in the parade would be a good way of burying the hatchet, and showing you're a good sport, and believe in democracy and all that shit."
"My patriotic duty?" I said archly. "Marching birthday bare down Main Street, with everyone I know watching?"
Walter laughed. "It won't be that bad. The Slave Queens are going to make it classy. They're even moving them up in the parade, by General Washington and the fire trucks. Tempting, isn't it?"
Looking at my face, Walter saw the idea of marching behind a fat, bearded George Washington was not closing the sale. "Why don't you set a high reserve price?" he suggested, his voice smooth and persuasive. "Make it something astronomical, so you won't have to march unless you really want to. That way, you can see how much you're worth, without actually having to go through with it."
"What should my price be?" I asked.
Walter leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Make it high, but not so high that it looks like you're gaming it, just to see bids. Maybe ten thousand dollars. That's a good starting point. If you don't hit it, no harm, no foul. If you do, well, then it's your choice to march or not."
I couldn't get the idea out of my head. The town's eyes on me, my body exposed and chained... I was both repulsed and drawn to the idea. The budget for the pet shelter was indeed over $100,000. It was a lofty goal, but one I felt confident I wouldn't reach. The very notion of it made me feel both powerful and vulnerable. The challenge was thrilling.
“What if set my reserve price at the exact amount needed to fund the shelter last year: $98,750?” I asked.
“That’s ridiculous. You have to be realistic, Julia. I don’t even know if they would take that as a price. That’s way to high, and there is only a few more days until the parade.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I can have the fun, and not parade.”
Walter didn’t like it, but I didn’t care. It was a figure so high that I was certain it would never be met. My fear eased. It was just a bit of harmless fun, a way to stir up some excitement and maybe raise awareness for the shelter. There wasn’t much time between Monday and the parade on Friday. Probably nobody would even find out about it.
The next morning I called Millie, our town clerk, and offered myself up like a lamb to slaughter. She was thrilled, at least until I told her my price.
“That’s way too high, Julia,” she said. “Our next biggest reserve price is $1,500.”
“Who else is in the parade?” I asked.
“Two or three girls from the community college. Daniela Stevens was going to do it, but she chickened out. You’d be a real get.”
“I sure would,” I chuckled. “That’s why my reserve price is $98,750, by Friday. Not a penny less.”
