Anna's Story - A Slave's Journal: Entry 3

[Danicali299]

Trigger Warning: my writing is a touch harder than other stories on here. You’ve been warned

Also In retrospect I went a touch too far with the last part's ending. Luckily that was the only instance of r*** in this story out of like a dozen outlined parts I have written out. Sorry to anyone who didn't like that part.

Diary of A Slave Part 3: Day 2

Early the next morning I awoke to a loud buzz, similar to the shift change alarm at a factory, blasting all of us awake. Why they felt the need to wake up slaves sitting in a pen doing nothing all day at what felt like 5AM, I will never know. This was my first morning in the warehouse and I honestly had no idea what was going on as I got to my feet and looked around. The others were just as disoriented as me as we took turns using the toilet and brushing out teeth with the one communal toothbrush and travel sized tube of paste they threw through the slot on the door while we were sleeping. There was a communal comb that looked like it was from the dollar store going around as well but that thing was less than useless if you had thick hair like mine.

I could handle sharing a toothbrush with 23 other women, as long as we got a new one every day, but I couldn’t seem to handle the thought of using the bathroom in front of everyone. None of us could, come to find out, as almost all of us ended up trying and failing that morning to overcome that particular type of humiliation. After I finshed getting cleaned up as best I could I ended up looking through the chain-link at a team of overseers on each side of the aisle who were going from slave pen to slave pen with a scanner and a large cart.

I had no idea how long we waited for our side’s overseers to make it to our pen, all I knew was that I was hungry and still shook up from last night’s “incident”. When they got there we were instructed to put our hands behind our backs and face the wall. I nervously followed their instructions, not knowing what was going on, as one overseer moved around the pen scanning our wrists, while another followed behind him putting something behind us.

After a few more minutes of this, the overseers replaced the trash can by the toilet and locked the door as they left the pen. Before letting us leave our positions the overseers did answer a stupid question I had in the back of my head, by threatening to “forget” to feed us the next morning if we ever forgot to throw out the toothbrush and paste again.

It took a minute after they left for me and the others to feel safe enough to turn around, but when we did we were greeted by our “breakfast” sitting unwrapped on the dirty concrete floor next to a white box that I assumed was a drink. To call this food would’ve been generous, as it looked like someone baked puke into a small loaf and called it bread. I found out later that this particular slave food was called nutriloaf, a food originally designed as a punishment for prison inmates in solitary confinement.

Still, being hungry, I ate this dry tasteless “loaf” to the last crumb and it surprisingly filled me up pretty well for how bad it was. The drink was mostly tasteless as well, reminding me of watered down soy milk with what tasted like vitamin powder in it. I honestly expected slave food in a place like this to be glorified dog food that wasn’t even fit for human consumption. In reality it still sucked but it was functional for its intended purpose, keeping slaves fed and healthy for as cheap a price as possible.

After I was finished eating I threw my carton into the trash and did my best to quietly introduce myself to the other women in the pen. Yesterday wasn’t exactly the best day for introductions, and if my cousin’s experience was anything to go by we were going to be stuck here together for a two weeks at a minimum. Not all of us were big talkers and most of them just wanted to be left alone, but a few were willing to talk a little bit. There was Charlotte, the ebony woman with the beautiful ass from earlier. She defaulted on her student loans and was in the same boat as me, debt slavery. When she said she was 36, I made things a bit awkward by saying she was much too good looking to be 36. luckily for me she chalked it up to nerves and my youthful ignorance and laughed it off. I liked her after our conversation. She seemed like a good person to have around in a stressful place like this.

Then there was Maddie and Ashley. They were a set of ginger twins who happened to be the ones calling me a whore last night after the Master Chet brought me back. They did at least apologize to me for that and after they told me where they came from I instantly understood why. These poor girls came from Pennsatucky [a VERY rural and conservative part of the Pennsylvania], and appalachia levels of poverty and drug abuse routinely lead to sketchy enslavements coming from corrupt judges, abusive families and a variety of other shitty situations for their victims. I didn’t hold the whore comment against them once I realized that they were most likely going to end up as sex slaves somewhere weird knowing their luck.

My efforts to get to know a few of the other slaves the rest of the morning were going surprisingly well until a middle aged woman in an overseer’s uniform came to the pen’s door and yelled my slave number. I got up and went to the door and slipped up, I looked this woman in the eye before I realized my mistake and put them back down to the floor. Luckily for me she didn’t take offense beyond a dirty look and instructed me to put my hands behind my back and back up to the door. She cuffed my hands just like Master Chet did and led me away from the pen with a firm hold on the back of my neck steering me in the right direction.

As she was walking me to wherever we were going she seemed angry about something, and her handling of me showed it. We had to stop where two aisles of pens intersected as what sounded and smelled like a large amount of slaves were paraded past us is one long coffle. I took this moment to utter a quiet, fearful apology to the woman leading me. I said, “ma’am, I’m sorry I looked you in the eyes like that, it will never happen again. I promise”. Apparently I had spoken out of turn and she expressed her displeasure by yanking my hair back until I was staring at the blindingly bright ceiling lights above me. She firmly told me,

“ First of all slave, you will ask permission to speak every time, and since you’re new I’ll be nice enough to forgo punishing you. Second of all, calm the fuck down. I’m not mad at you, you’re just along for the ride on an already bad day.”

She put my head back down toward the floor and asked asked me if I understood, I gave her a quiet, “yes ma’am” and we briskly continued on our way to wherever she was taking me. In my fear I didn’t even think about were I was going until this point. I still had that slight hope/fantasy of getting out of this place and off to college in the back of my head, but yesterday taught me that hope in a place like this is just a recipe for guaranteed disappointment.

The room she led me to was at the other end of the warehouse and we were both catching out breath from that hurried walk before she opened the door. In an odd twist from our interaction a few minutes earlier, she welcomed me to her small office as she opened the door and led me in. It was as spartan and grey as the rest of the warehouse with a basic computer desk and some cabinets, but this overseer had a few personal touches here and there marking this as “her” space. The only odd thing in there that made it unlike any other office I’ve seen was the small standing cage in the corner that I was told to enter and was locked into.

After locking me in the cage, the overseer told me she would be right back and left the room. The cage was small and supposed to be standing room only but due to how scrawny I was, I was somehow able to get myself in a comfortable position to rest my eyes while I waited for her to return. As soon as I heard the door unlock I quickly got to my feet and planted my eyes on the floor as the woman returned with a middle aged man that looked like her boss.

They sat down and ended up having the first part of their conversation without even acknowledging me paitiently waiting in the corner for some indication of why the fuck I was locked in a cage in an overseer’s office. Then I heard the name Chet and Adam come out of the woman’s mouth in the angriest tone I’ve ever heard while I watched what I now realized was her boss type up something on his computer. She even showed him security footage from last night, and I recognized myself in the videos as the man typed up more notes while now looking at me in the cage In between looking over bits of the security footage over and over again. When they were done with their meeting the overseer let me out of the cage and introduced herself as Mistress Robins and her supervisor as Master Reynolds, the man in charge of the whole women’s slave warehouse.

He used his phone to scan my barcode, and proceeded to look me up and down before pointing his camera at me and ordering me to look at the camera and answer his questions. I remembered what Mater Chet said, but I also knew in that moment that it was a bluff, as what he and Master Adam did went against some policy that would ensure that I would hopefully never see them again. So being the good little slave they wanted me to be I reported exactly what happened to me last night, including the threat.

Once Master Reynolds was done with his questions, he instructed Mistress Robins to take me to medical and get the evidence needed to finally fire them before it healed. He left the office and before she could handcuff me and take me to medical, I asked her for permission to speak. She allowed me, and I profusely thanked her for getting them fired for what they did to me and I offered to do anything to make it up to her.

She looked at me with a puzzled look and said, “Slave, those two overgrown frat boy idiots were fired for damaging company property and dereliction of duty. I don’t like what they did to you last night one bit, its fucking wrong, but that lovely barcode on your wrist makes what they did to you personally, technically legal in the eyes of the government”. I teared up a bit when she said all that. I knew there were laws against abusing slaves, but I never knew they couldn’t really be enforced. Mistress Robin saw my face and handed me a tissue from her desk and firmly told me something that I still remember today.

“Slave, you’ll get used to it after a while. You’ll even learn to like a lot of it in the end. Either way I read your profile before I grabbed you and you’re luckier than the others in this place. You’re smart and pretty enough to make it as some rich asshole’s domestic or personal assistant and that’s ten times better than the majority of the other slaves around you who are going to end up in a factory or on a farm somewhere destroying their bodies every day. Hell, you’re probably even going to be better off than those sex slaves taking a dozen dicks on a slow day. I’m pretty sure the occasional dick inside of you or pussy in your mouth at your future job is an appropriate price for the relative luxury and the long life you’ll get in the end”

She wasn’t wrong and as much as I hated what she said, me and the rest of society really only ever interacted with the domestic slaves, sex slaves, and the slaves with professional training in a certain field. As long as our goods were cheap, we never really cared about who actually made them and how they lived. I guess I really was lucky compared to them. You wouldn't think of a "nicer" type of slavery as being lucky or privileged if you were free, but to the masses doing hard manual labor everyday a slave who's entire job was cooking and cleaning lived in heaven as far as they were concerned. This lecture also hinted at what "model" of slave they were going to sell me as once I was actually taken to a dealer. I never understood why the different types of slaves were labelled as "models", but you routinely saw ads on TV for "great deals on domestic and labor models for all budgets" like the slaves being sold were a used car or something.

After her little lecture Mistress Robins handcuffed me and led me out of her office, this time just letting me follow her the short distance we had to go to the warehouse’s medical office. It looked like the medical room I was processed in, just smaller, and Mistress Robins ordered me to take my clothes off and wait for the nurse to be ready for me. I had gotten my dress off, however, both of them noticed the bruises on my breasts and made me stop while a picture was taken to show the “damage to company property” that the men were getting fired over.

After the picture was taken, they allowed me to finish taking off my undewear and get in position for the pelvic exam that the company needed for some reason. I didn’t like that they had to strap me down like last time, but I assumed that this was just procedure at this point and did my best to stay quiet as the nurse examined how raw I was down there as she still found cum coming out of me. The speculum wasn’t any better either but given the circumstances, the nurse dipped into her emergency supply of lube to make it slightly less shitty for me. The nurse was quick about her exam and got everything she needed pretty quickly before I was given a plan B pill to keep the babies at bay. She was even kind enough to give me a chance to use the bathroom before Mistress Robin was shoving my clothes into my arms and telling me to get dressed quick, because she had “shit to catch up on”.

With all this done, I expected Mistress Robin to take me back to my slave pen. Instead, she took me back to her office to have me make up for all the running around she had to do today because of me. It wasn’t like what Master Chet and Adam wanted out of me luckily. All Mistress Robins wanted me to do was to massage her feet and shoulders to the best of my ability. The task wasn't too hard and Mistress Robins wasn't too demanding either as I spent almost an hour massaging her feet alone. When I got to her shoulders I could see the stack of paperwork she was working through and it looked annoying to say the least, but it didn't seem to phase her as she just kept singing to herself while typing away. In all honesty, it seemed like she barely even noticed my presence in the room, even though I had my hands on her the whole time. By the time I was done with her massages my hands felt like they were on fire and I was hungry, thirsty and even a little tired from that small bit of work. Still, I nervously asked her if there was anything else she needed me to do for her so I could stay in this woman's good graces.

She had this odd look on her face and asked me if I knew how to take care of a woman. I didn’t understand the question and she could obviously tell as an annoyed look came over her face as she said in an equally annoyed tone, “Like, eating pussy. Can you do that?”. I shook my head and told her “no ma’am” while meekly apologizing to her. I was afraid that she was gonna get mad or hurt me but instead, she just told me to get under the desk and follow her instructions. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, like last time, but this situation seemed different. I was crawling under this overseer’s desk hoping that she would be more gentle than a man would be and to be honest, eating a woman out can’t be nearly as bad as getting fucked raw and risking pregnancy while enslaved. I was still nervous and I stopped for a few seconds, not really knowing what I was doing but Mistress Robins prodded me along with a reminder that I did say I would do anything to pay her back for getting rid of Master Chet and Master Adams. A promise is a promise I guess, and I went to work attempting to make this woman happy.

Following her instructions, I first undid Mistress Robin’s pants and pulled them down the the floor while removing one of her legs from them so I had more room to work with. Then came down her panties with the same leg coming out. They were a little too basic for my preference, but it’s kinda hard to judge when you’re wearing underwear made from shopping bag canvas. After Mistress Robin was laid bare in front of me all I could do was kneel there looking at her clean shaven pussy wondering what I was supposed to do here. She looked down at me and asked, “do you know where my clit is?”. I nodded yes looking right at it and she then told me, “I’ll be nice this time, all you have to do is suck on my clit and use your tongue a little until I tell you to stop”. following these simple instructions, I proceeded to suck on the woman’s clit and lightly eat her out for what felt like half an hour before I felt her pelvis shake a little from what I assumed was her cumming.

I was about to take my mouth off her until she put her hand on my head and told me, “I didn’t say I was done slave”. I didn’t have to do it much longer and after the first orgasm she even played with my hair while saying I was doing a good job. Another orgasm later, Mistress Robin had her fill and told me to wait in the cage while she went to the bathroom and got cleaned up. She was nice enough to let me use a tissue to clean my face a bit and even gave me the rest of her bottle of water to drink while I was in the cage. While I was waiting for her to return all I could think about was how different that felt. I was still a piece of meat to these people, not even being noticed or acknowledged as long as they were happy but Mistress Robin demonstrated to me that not every person who is going to use me for labor, sex, and god knows what else is gonna be an abusive asshole to me. It was confusing, but gave me hope that once I was out of this place it would get better.

Mistress Robin came back a few minutes later and brought me back to my slave pen. Everyone was already half asleep and the only one to react to the door opening was Charlotte. She was surprised to see me again and I ended up asking Charlotte if I had missed any meals. Come to find out, they apparently only feed the slaves here once a day. After mutually bitching about being forced to eat sleep for dinner, Charlotte asked me why they took me away for so long. Once I told her about the overseers getting fired, her eyes lit up. Apparently our row of pens had a front row seat to Master Chet getting hauled out of there by the cops and screaming threats at everyone after he took a swing a Master Reynolds. Knowing at least one of those guys got arrested for something at least made me able to curl up next to Charlotte and the twins and go to sleep content, or at least as content as this place would allow.

[ZeeChromosome]

Dani - More comments from the peanut gallery!

“The only odd thing in there that made it unlike any other office I’ve seen was the small standing cage in the corner that I was told to enter and was locked into.” – I like this detail. Very creative. I can just see her there with her fingers on the bars, staring out at me with a sad, plaintive look on her face as I type up… documents of some sort.

“All Mistress Robins wanted me to do was to massage her feet and shoulders to the best of my ability.” – It’s surprising to me how much lesbian slavery porn features foot rubs. I think this is a nice touch, because it’s probably oh-so-true. At the end of the day, the stressed female executive doesn’t want her pussy licked, she wants her feet massaged.

“Like, eating pussy. Can you do that?”. – Well OK then, maybe she needs some of that, too.

Zee

[Danicali299]

Zee..thank you again for the feedback. It is greatly appreciated.

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“All Mistress Robins wanted me to do was to massage her feet and shoulders to the best of my ability.” – It’s surprising to me how much lesbian slavery porn features foot rubs. I think this is a nice touch, because it’s probably oh-so-true. At the end of the day, the stressed female executive doesn’t want her pussy licked, she wants her feet massaged.
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As a restaurant manager I can understand the pain of being on my feet all day or doing enough mildly strenuous things that would make me want a shoulder rub or a foot massage more than sex. I'm also a guy, so I'm trying not to make my middle aged lesbian too porn-like, and more like an actual person in a blue collar job that just happens to like women.

[ZeeChromosome]

Got it. So how is it different when Boss Robins pulls a slave from inventory to use her for sexual services? Was it because the two guards were doing it after hours when the inventory was supposed to be sleeping?

[Danicali299]

I should’ve wrote that part better too to be honest but here’s some blanks filled in.

Mistress Robins gets away with it because she’s allowed a personal assistant slave and she followed proper procedure in regard to inventory controls. Also she’s the boss of the whole women’s warehouse, so who’s gonna tell her what she can and cannot do with her “personal assistant” in the privacy of her office?

In comparison, the two overseers that got fired had no authority to take inventory out of the pens whenever they wanted to and even then with Mistress Robins, Anna was scanned out of that pen’s inventory every morning and scanned back in every night when she was done working for her. In contrast The overseers were just plucking women out of the pens to fuck them whenever they wanted and they had no official reason or authority to take them out in the first place unless it was an emergency or a scheduled action like a shower or something. In a place with what amounts to over 1000 slaves in it, you need to know where every slave is supposed to be at all times for auditing purposes.

Adding to that Mercer can’t risk an overseer getting a slave pregnant. Pregnancy is risky for a free woman with proper healthcare. Imagine how risky it would be for a slave living off of a single slave loaf a day and how reluctant Mercer would be to want to have pregnant slaves in their inventory knowing how likely a miscarriage would be in a place like that. In this universe it’s also damn near impossible to sell a pregnant woman so in essence, those two guys were risking lost profits for the company every time they took some poor girl out to use them.

I’m assuming a blowjob, or eating out in Mistress Robin’s case, wouldn’t be much of an issue but there has to be a time and place for that shit and those guys probably had more productive things they had to do besides having sex with slaves.