StripSearch

Hi StripSearch members,
SteveBurke suggested authors post their stories here to help boost site traffic. This story is up on Literotica already, but I’m posting it here, and will be happy to discuss it if anyone comments. I have another story on Lit as well but I think this one fits the site better. It is non-consensual, but I think it fits the rules, and is nothing too extreme.

The story is set in the legalized slavery world of Joe_Doe_Stories and others, and you might have noticed the main character appeared in Joe Doe’s Any Chance Auction, but this story takes place before that (and may or may not match up with Joe’s story, I’m not going to spoil the ending.)

The idea of the old lady and her store came from the wonderfully deviant mind of Joe Doe, and I couldn’t have done this story without him.

Tanuki

Part A

The statuesque young woman walked through the labyrinth of cubicles in the FBI field office, dropping off letters and documents. The last name on her list read “Reina Sayama, Special Agent, Slavery Violation Unit.” She found the name tag on the cubicle wall and dropped the letter in the envelope slot, taking a peek at the slender Asian woman leaning back in her office chair. She was young, maybe mid 20s, and pretty with her dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, and her gray fitted suit didn’t completely hide her curvaceous figure. The delivery girl sighed with envy. If she’d only made better choices in life, maybe she could have been the one dressed in a suit, with a bad ass FBI job.

The agent looked up to see the girl peeking around her office cubicle wall. She was beautiful, dressed in a revealing pink tank top and matching shorts, and it was clear she wasn’t wearing any underwear. The girl looked completely out of place in an FBI office. “Who are you?” she asked the delivery girl, who looked like a college intern by age, but interns usually wore fitted suits or coat & tie.

The girl stepped out, looking embarrassed. She quickly got down on her knees. “Oh, I’m sorry Mistress, I didn’t mean to stare. I’m Kara, I’m the new office slave girl. I just started today. Can I make some copies for you?”

“Slave girl?” asked the agent, incredulous. After two years of rumors, they’d finally done it, allowed FBI field offices to bring in indentured slaves to do the menial office work like making copies and delivering mail. And it was clear how this girl had been selected. She’d bet money her boss Ellis had done the interviewing, and written up the dress code. She looked at the girl kneeling demurely just outside her cubicle, her big doe eyes looking up expectantly. “Get up! Who told you to kneel?”

“Uh, it was . . . Mr. Ellis?” said the girl, gracefully unwinding her long legs and getting to her feet.

“I knew it. Bastard,” said Reina, under her breath. She waved the girl away with disgust. “Go, and don’t kneel for people!”

Reina Sayama was born in Japan, of a Japanese father and Polish-American mother. When she was only five, her life took a wild change in course. Japan, desperate to address its overwhelming national debt burden, had instituted a national slavery law by its predominantly male Parliament. Reina's mother had been attracted to Japan for its tolerance and even encouragement of submissiveness among women; it was in fact the reason she’d moved there and married a Japanese man. As a hostess, she didn’t make a lot of money, and combined with Reina’s father’s gambling debts and the economic downturn, the family’s debt grew to an alarming level. Reina’s mother secretly signed away her freedom in return for a large sum of money, with which she’d hoped to secure a future for Reina and her sister Mai, and rescue her husband from his Yakuza loan shark. Her father had been furious when he found out, but there was no breaking a willfully signed slavery contract. His only recourse was to try to buy her back. Reina’s mother had been auctioned at Tokyo's first Slave House, and her father had been in the audience, her mother’s contract money in hand to try to buy back his wife. The sight of the big breasted, golden haired white woman kneeling obediently on the block with her silky thighs spread wide had caused an uproar in the audience of mostly wealthy Japanese men. Reina's father had been outbid in less than a minute, and Reina's mother had been handed in chains to a well-connected Japanese businessman.

Shortly after, her father had paid off his debts using her contract money, to honor his wife’s wishes. Then he brought Reina and her older sister Mai to the United States, to enroll them in an all-girls prep school. Reina's father raised his daughters right, and as adults they were both vehemently opposed to slavery. When the US legalized slavery, both girls dedicated their careers to the protection of women from the fast-growing tentacles of the slaving industry. Mai became a lawyer specializing in protecting women from slavery prosecutions. Reina had transferred from her counter terrorism post in the FBI, to a new division created to target illegal enslavement schemes.

Reyna quickly excelled in her new position, thrilled to be doing vital work to protect women and girls. It was a quite common practice for the slaving industry to trick or entrap pretty young women into something that would lead to their eventual enslavement. It was of particular concern for famous female celebrities or athletes, who would fetch such a high price on the slave block that their freedom was always in danger from nefarious characters in the slaving industry.

Reina’s career accelerated quickly, yet she had one drawback. Her pretty face was extremely expressive, which was something her trainers at the Academy had focused in on as an undesirable trait for an investigator. It was something she'd worked hard to control, with some success. Despite her efforts, her coworkers and the criminals she targeted never had much trouble making her blush, or shocking her with their inappropriate comments, much to their amusement. Reina had been reprimanded more than once by her superiors for her "unprofessional" behavior, but despite 5 years in the Bureau, she still had a naive streak, and was an easy target for men who liked to tease her.

Reina's father had tried to discourage both girls from their chosen professions, worrying that too much exposure to the slavery industry might foster some deep-seated tendencies inherited from their mother. But both girls had assured him repeatedly that they were not like their mother, and from all appearances, that was true. When Reina had volunteered for the Bureau, the agency psychologist had grilled her to try to uncover any such tendencies. The Bureau could not afford one of their agents choosing to become a slave, it would be an embarrassment. Reina had passed with flying colors, showing no signs of affinity for slavery. She'd done well in her new role, earning commendations and helping to break up several entrapment schemes. She'd received more than a few gifts from appreciative female celebrities, and her closet had a few stunning and unaffordable dresses and designer bags, which she would wear on special occasions.

The lunch hour bell sounded, rousing Reina from her thoughts, and she quickly got out of her chair and grabbed her purse. She was going to meet her old childhood friend Debbie Jamison, whom she hadn’t seen in over a year. Going around her desk she knocked a stack of papers onto the floor, and as she bent over to pick them up, she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

“Ah, my favorite view,” said the slightly nasally voice. Ellis was her pudgy middle aged supervisor. Reina turned around, her eyes narrowing and her hand starting to strangle the strap of her purse. “Oh, silly me . . . now I remember this is my favorite view. Pity you insist on wearing clothes in the office,” said Ellis, looking his subordinate up and down.

“Ellis!” hissed Reina, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned around. The man was incredibly annoying, but he was also competent and had taken care of her career-wise. For that reason she made an effort to tolerate his childish behavior. But bringing in an office slave girl? That was way over the line. “Ellis! I saw the new ‘office girl’. That was your doing, no doubt?”

“Hmm, yes,” murmured Ellis, as if trying to see through her forearms to the treasures beneath. Then he gave up and sighed. “Uh, yes, beautiful girl, and quite a bargain really. No salary or overtime, cheap health care, no whining about work hours or harassment. She quite likes me I think! Cheerful lass, don’t you think?”

“Ellis!” she hissed again. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to bring in slaves, even if the FBI ok’d it? How can we set out to fight slavery when we are participating in it??”

Ellis shrugged. “We’re not fighting slavery, remember? Slavery is legal. Our job is to make sure the industry obeys the laws. You forget that sometimes. Besides, I think it’s a great morale booster, and she’s quite hardworking and helpful.”

Reina made a sound of disgust. “Oh, I’m sure she is, what is she helping you with, sir?” The last one had a stinging ring of sarcasm attached.

Ellis raised an eyebrow as if in thought. “Well, yes, she . . . uh . . . anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Agent Huntly tracked a suspect to a neighborhood in Little Tokyo, then lost him. He asked if you could take over.”

“Of course he did,” said Reina. Agent Hunk-ly she called him. Tall, dark and handsome, and dumb as rocks. “Can’t someone else do it? You know I’m tracking down those internal leaks. I really think someone is tipping off our friends about our movements.”

Ellis looked serious all of a sudden. “Do you have something this time? If so I want a full report on my desk asap!”

Reina sighed. “Nothing . . . concrete. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something. But I was heading over to the server farm after lunch to do some research.”

“Ok, keep me posted. I don’t want you wasting all your time on a phantom mole. I need you to follow up on Huntly’s suspect.”

“Fine,” said Reina, with annoyance. They were always putting aside important work to do worthless follow up investigations, it was the job. “Text me the address and suspect name.”

“Already did,” smiled Ellis. “I’m one step ahead of you as always.”

Reina made a derisive snorting sound and opened her phone. She recognized the street address, and the name of a low-priority slaver muscle. He’d be long gone by the time she arrived of course. Much of her job involved following worthless leads, but they had to be followed up regardless. “I’ll head right over.” Then she gave Ellis a dirty look. “And we’re not done talking about this office girl thing!”

“Oh don’t worry, my dear. If you ever get in trouble with the law, I’ll fire her and buy you for the office. You’d look great in the office slave girl uniform,” he said, with a suggestive wink.

“Over my dead body,” murmured Reina, shaking her head at her boss’ outrageous behavior. Then to her surprise, his tone changed, and he put a hand on her shoulder.

“All jokes aside, we can’t change the world, Reina. We just have to make it a little better. If the powers that be are going to make slavery legal, we should all try to roll with it. Now go enjoy your lunch date,” said Ellis, his voice sympathetic. “We both know your suspect’s probably miles away by now.”

Reina was always thrown off balance when her boss turned thoughtful. She smiled at him, and then she frowned suddenly. “How did you know I was going to . . . ?” she started, then just shook her head. Her boss always seemed to know where she was going, and she’d long since stopped asking how. The man was FBI after all. She walked out of her office and down the hall toward the elevator, and Ellis stood there enjoying the view before returning to his office.

Down in the basement, Reina started up the engine to her SUV and phoned up Debbie on her car’s screen. “Hi Debbie,” she said when her friend answered. “Look . . . could we postpone lunch an hour? I have to follow up a quick lead.”

“I knew it!” squeaked her friend on the car speakers. “Fine, I’ll tell me Dad we’re gonna be an hour late.”

Reina sucked in a sharp breath. “Your Dad? He’s . . . coming?”

“Yes, is that a problem?” said Debbie. “It’s been years, he wanted to see you.”

“Oh, uh, no!” said Reina, trying to act casual. “No problem at all, I’ll, uh, see you at 1.”

“Ok great, see ya!” said Debbie, and then hung up.

Reina felt a pit in her stomach. Debbie’s father was a wealthy, handsome businessman, and doting father. And Reina had had a crush on him in high school, until one day when she’d found out a little too much about her best friend’s dad. She was surprised Mr. Jamison would be willing to meet up with Reina, now a law enforcement agent. Then again he’d committed no crime, so there was nothing she could do. She’d never told her best friend what happened, for fear of losing her, and Mr. Jamison probably knew he could count on her continued silence. “Stop analyzing this!” Reina told herself. It was hard to turn off her FBI mentality.

Her phone rang in Apple Carplay, the screen displaying Call From Agent Hunk-ly. “Agent Sayama, it’s me, Huntly,” said the deep, masculine voice.

“Yes, I know it’s you, dummy,” said Reina, exasperated at his stupidity. “You’re in my address book, you know?”

“I am?” said Huntly, sounding interested. Reina sighed, shaking her head. “Uh, that’s nice. So, anyway, I tracked that scumbag, what was his name, Lever, Leechy . . .”

“Larry?” said Reina, helpfully. Two-chains Larry was a low level loser they were always following in case he did something stupid, like lead them to the big fish.

“Yeah, him,” chuckled Huntly. “I tracked his ass to this, like, cosplay store or something, on MLK and Enon. Then I uh, lost him.”

Reina’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, you lost him? Did he go in the store?”

“Yeah, he went in the store,” said Huntly.

“And . . . why didn’t you go in there after him?” said Reina, trying to lead his small brain to its next logical thought.

“Cause it’s like, all girly stuff in there,” said Huntly. “I don’t think men are allowed, you know?”

Reina’s jaw fell open. “But . . . the man went in there . . . and . . . you thought men aren’t allowed in the store.”

“Yes, white man in some Chinatown girly clothing store, I’d stick out like a sore thumb, you know?” said Huntly.

Well, he was probably right about that, thought Reina. When it was clear the other agent was done with his explanation, Reina sighed. “So naturally you thought you’d call up your girlfriend Reina to finish doing your job for you, is that correct?”

“Yes, right again!” said Huntly, relieved that she understood. Then his voice turned awkward. “You know Reina, I like you and all, you’re a great . . . agent . . . but . . . you’re just not my . . . uh . . . well you’re not . . .”

“Not your type, I know. I was just kidding about the girlfriend thing, Huntly,” said Reina, annoyed that he always felt the need to remind her she wasn’t his type. Then again it was probably fortunate, for the man was a Greek god who made her stammer like an idiot in his presence. She much preferred talking to him on the phone so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.

“Oh, that was just a joke,” exclaimed Huntly, sounding relieved. “Ok, thanks babe, you’re the best! I gotta run, I’m late for the gym.” Then he hung up, leaving Reina to stare at the screen as if it had just sprouted wings. The man never ceased to amaze her. If she was late for lunch with Debbie, she was going to kill Hunkly.

Reina parked her Ford Explorer at the corner of Martin Luther King Blvd and Enon St. She double checked the address in her nav app. If it had been of the other male agents passing down the mission she’d suspect he was pulling her leg, but that was too sophisticated for Hunkly. Still, this wasn’t a nice neighborhood, and an odd place for a high-end costume store. Looking quickly around her surroundings for suspicious characters, she pulled out her pistol and gently pulled back the slide to check that it was loaded before putting it back in her holster and unlocking her vehicle. With her senses on edge, she walked the half block to the entrance of Madame Mystery’s Costume Store and entered. Immediately she began to suspect a prank. The office was having a costume party at the end of the month, and her fellow agents had been teasing her incessantly.

“You have your nun costume ready, Rei?”
“You find a stick to put up your ass, Agent? Oh right, you have that already!”

As she looked about the store for signs of Two-Chains Larry, she couldn’t help noticing the elaborate Victorian costumes. They looked very real, and she’d heard how uncomfortable they were. She cautiously moved through the store, moving past female superhero costumes, and chuckled at the police costumes. Reina wondered if the store catered only to women, for she wasn’t seeing kids or men’s costumes. Reina continued searching the store for her suspect, but the store was empty. In fact she didn’t even see any employees, the store was deserted. Reina started to relax and look more closely at the fascinating array of outfits. She let her mind wander to the thought of putting on a costume, and being whisked away to a world where she wasn’t the no-nonsense FBI Agent and was just a lady in waiting, or an emperor’s concubine, or a---

"Perhaps I can help you, dear," came the sweet melodic voice behind her. Reina turned, expecting a younger woman, and she was startled to see a shriveled old woman standing patiently behind her.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you there.” The woman was dressed in a flowing colorful gown of an unfamiliar era. It looked ancient and yet beautiful. She had to be the shop owner. How adorable, Reina thought. She must have a wild imagination to create such a store.

“You look like you’re in need of a fantasy getaway, my dear,” said the old woman, more statement than question.

"Hi," Reina said, acting in character in case the suspect was nearby and listening in. "Uh, well, we have an office costume party coming up, and you know, I want to show the men I can be fun too," she lied, feeling a little guilty about lying to the nice old lady. But she didn’t want her to know she was tailing a suspected underground slaver.

"Oh, what an interesting office you must have,” said the woman, her tone a bit strange. Did she know Reina was lying?

“Oh no, not interesting at all, I’m afraid,” said Reina, chuckling. She wrinkled her nose, and whispered quietly. “It could use a little feminine touch.”

“Oh, I know you can be provide that in spades, dear," said the old woman said, giving her a knowing smile. Reina looked at her oddly. The woman was full of surprises. "I think I have just the thing for you, my little aspiring temptress."

Reina opened her mouth to protest, but the old woman was already moving through the store toward the back, and Reina followed her to a rack of hanging costumes. The variety was stunning, ranging from rags to lingerie, to things she’d never seen. Reina noticed that none of the costumes were packaged like you’d find in a Halloween store – cheap packaged crap that would be uncomfortable to wear and would fall apart after one night. Like everything in the old woman’s store, these looked like real clothing, not costumes at all. None had bags, and few even had labels. They were more like . . . disguises? Her eyebrows raised. Was that why her suspect had entered this particular store?

“Do you have costumes for men?” said Reina. She hadn’t seen any, and she doubted the suspect would be looking for female costumes.

“A few,” said the old lady. “Ah, here we go. When you walked in the door, I knew right away this was the one for you.”

Rena looked at her askance. "What is that, a silk scarf?" she asked. “Where’s the rest of the costume?”

The woman smiled, and showed Rena the inside label. Reina recognized it instantly. She’d once read a trashy novel about a strange world on the other side of the solar system, where the men were barbarians and the women were slaves. The label depicted such a man in a turban with two girls dressed in skimpy silk . . . and chains. She suspected the costume maker plagiarized the cover art from the book.

Reina laughed. “Oh, right, a slave girl costume? How perfect for me,” she added, sarcastically.

"Of course, that's just for show. During the actual sale you wouldn't be wearing any clothes!", the old woman said with a chuckle. "Only a fool buys a slave girl with clothes on."

Reina saw the woman looking at her with that all-knowing gaze, and she suddenly flushed. She looked again at the colorful label, then at the red silk. There was barely enough material there to cover anything, and it was shear . . . so it literally wouldn’t cover anything! Reina was repulsed, and yet, she couldn’t help wondering how would it feel to be dressed in such a thing, standing before that crowd of men, and women? All eyes would be on her, and she wouldn’t have her usual fitted suit and blouse to hide her curves from the leering eyes of men. Reina lived in a world where slavery was legal, and scary, and terrible. But this costume was the stuff of fantasy – a barbarian world, stone auction block surrounded by handsome shirtless muscled men who would examine her, with their eyes and perhaps, their hands. She imagined the horror of standing there, as the auctioneer showed off her assets, while the bidders judged her beauty and desirability in the most direct way. She always wondered if men found her attractive. In this barbarian world, she would know instantly by their bidding, or lack of it. I'd be auctioned off like an animal, Reina thought, based on the bidders’ evaluation of my face, my lips, my hair, my breasts, my hips. And the one who valued those things the highest would own me!

And what if she didn’t receive any bids? After all, it was expensive to buy a slave. A man might get only one chance to get it right. Without bids she might go to someone . . . repugnant . . . poor . . . cruel.

The old woman knowingly finished the thought. "Yes, to be auctioned off like that would be horrifying. Unthinkable, eh dear?”

Reina’s head jerked to look at her. Had she read her mind? The woman seemed to know her thoughts. What a sales woman she was, truly gifted. "I . . . haven’t given it any thought,” answered Reina, submissively. The old woman looked at her with that knowing grin again.

“And yet, think of the feeling of pride if your sale price was unusually high? Men and women fighting over you, willing to hand over years of hard-earned cash just for the chance to purchase you, to take you home in chains, to dominate and train you, and to own you, in every sense of the word." The woman’s voice was like a lover’s caress, seductive, penetrating.

Reina looked at the strange woman, feeling embarrassed by the direction of the conversation. “Sounds wonderful. No chains with the costume?" she asked, with a little grin. But the woman never seemed to notice her sarcastic tone.

"Oh, of course, silly me. We have all the appropriate accessories, of course!" the old woman said brightly, rummaging through a chest full of clothing. She turned, holding up a delicate set of bronze chains. The links were tiny, like fine jewelry, and the matching collar was slender, clearly meant for a woman’s neck. Reina’s hand drifted subconsciously to her chest just below her neck.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” said the woman, holding them up for Reina to take. She took the set of chains – it was so light, clearly not meant to actually restrain her, and yet as she fingered the chains, they were clearly not a cheap costume accessory either. Nor did they appear to be new. In fact, the chains looked old and worn, but of fine craftsmanship. She couldn’t stop looking at them, so fine and unusual. She held up the chain and ran it along outstretched wrist. The metal felt light and sensual on her skin.

"See these loops, here, and here? That's so they can chain you to a coffle. Perfect for parading the merchandise through the crowded city streets and to the slave market. 'Show, don't tell', as they say,” the old woman added with a laugh.

"Of course they are," chuckled Reina. The woman was really playing her part well. “It’s made to look old, somehow?” she added, appreciatively.

"Yes, it was used in the slave markets of medieval Europe. They didn't sell Christians, but foreigners like you were fair game. But turnabout is fair play, and it was clipped on the throat of many a white girl sold in the Tripoli slave markets. Eventually it made its way to New Orleans. They would sell Asians, like you, in the great rotunda of the St. Louis Hotel."

"New Orleans?" Rena asked. Was she talking about the old slave days? “They sold Asian slaves?” she added. Reina was pretty sure they hadn’t sold Asians in early America. But then her history classes had been scrubbed for sensitivities like everything else.

"Of course, anyone they could enslave," the old woman said. "Oh, dear, the idea upset your delicate sensibilities. I have just the thing for that too."

Reina gasped as the old woman picked up a whip, that looked as old and well used as the chains. She smiled at Reina, running the lash lovingly through her fingers. "So where would you like to be sold, dear? A great rotunda, in the old South? Or on the stone steps of a barbarian slave market, on a strange, exotic world? Use your imagination, and give it some thought, like you would a life-changing decision!"

Reina chuckled nervously. The woman was too much! “Ooh, I was always partial to the barbarian slave market,” she said, her eyes gleaming as she played along.

“A good choice,” nodded the old woman. “Those virile barbarian men will teach you your proper place in no time. I imagine an Oriental slave girl like you would be a novelty for them.”

“It’s . . . Asian . . . these days,” corrected Reina.

“Of course,” said the woman politely. “So, are you ready to try it on?”

“Oh, god no, thank you,” giggled Reina. “It’s so… skimpy. Why wear a costume at all?”

“Oh, of course, a true slave girl prefers to be naked, but there’s no need to rush things. Think of the symbolism. When you put on this costume, you give up a lot more than just your fancy business suit. You give up your education, your rights, and your very freedom. Slave girls don’t need jobs, or phones, or money. And they certainly don’t need badges and guns,” she said, pointing at the bulge under her jacket. Reina frowned, reflexively putting her hand on the front of her suit jacket where the gun was supposed to have been hidden. The woman handed her the silk costume. “These slave silks will be all you have, once you choose to wear them. Here, feel for yourself.”

“It’s beautiful,” Reina murmured, feeling the silk. Again, it was not like any cheap costume she’d encountered. They felt real, and while not fancy, and the colors a bit faded with time, they were still lovely. “But I don’t think I’d give up my freedom to wear it. It’s not that pretty,” she commented, giggling again, though her throat felt tight and her voice a bit too high pitched. The conversation, while silly, had a strange disconcerting tone to it, like she was dancing with a scorpion.

“Oh, you give up your freedom,” she said with a dismissive wave or her wrinkled hand, “but you gain so much more. “Like your Mr. Norman explained in that tawdry novel you read, slavery is freedom. Pleasure sluts aren’t permitted clothes, dignity, or respect, but this liberates them to experience pleasure in a way no free woman can. They are pure sexual animals, unrestrained by our notions of “lady-like” behavior, livestock who exist only to give and receive pleasure.” Leaning in, the woman’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know what they say: you haven’t orgasm’d til you’ve been forced to cum by your slave master.”

Reina gasped. “No, I don’t, who says that?” she exclaimed, her voice a bit squeaky. She hadn’t remembered telling the woman about the trashy novel she’d read a few years ago. She’d hated it, so poorly written, the male author so condescending, describing women like stupid livestock. And yet she’d never gotten the damn book out of her head. The ideas of the book so foreign, so repugnant, and yet the whole world seemed to be willingly following his lead down the path of slavery.

She noticed the woman giving her that knowing look again. Reina suddenly shook her head.

“You sound like a recruiter for the slave trade,” she scolded. “I’ve heard the same drivel peddled to innocent young women.”

“Oh course you’re right,” said the woman, nodding. “You have your job, so important, and your boyfriends, and you pay taxes, and do all that paperwork. Your life is so busy, and full of important busy work. What a pity, for you will never get to experience the purity and freedom of being a pleasure slave, where your only job, your purpose, is to please those who stand as master over you. What a magnificent life you are missing out on.”

“Yeah, what a shame,” said Reina, her sarcasm lost on the old woman.

“But do not despair,” the old woman said. “You can find what you seek. It is already inside you. You keep that desire hidden deep inside you, locked away in a dark closet, unbeknownst to the world. But you long to go there, to that rich fantasy world, filled with strong barbarian masters and lovely slave girls in chains and slave silks. In that world, you can cast aside your inhibitions without guilt or shame, because inhibitions will not be permitted. Imagine a world where you will quiver helplessly, as the spasms of unimaginable pleasure ripple through your body.”

Reina swallowed heavily, feeling a bit feverish. “Y-you have a wonderful imagination, but I have no time for such frivolous fantasies. I . . . I have a boyfriend, I don’t need that . . .”

“Your boyfriend, yes,” nodded the woman, with sadness. “He treats you with respect, always asks your opinion before doing something. In the bedroom he is respectful and gentle. If only that is what you truly desired. If only he knew how to make you feel feminine, and desirable.”

Reina gasped in protest, then held her tongue. Best not to encourage the old woman who’d just described her Jacob perfectly. How did she do that? Reina wondered. Was she a charlatan, like a shady palm reader or corrupt evangelist?

The woman held up a finger to silence her. She picked up a riding crop off the shelf and ran the shaft through her fingers. “What you truly desire, my dear Reina, is . . . discipline, and structure. You can have those things you desire. It is not too late for you. This costume IS you. You were meant to wear it. You will look magnificent wearing it. Irresistible, even. You owe it yourself to try it on. You can go to other costume stores, but they will never have this. This is your opportunity, break out from that mold, explore your inner slave girl.”

Reina stood there transfixed, imagining herself wearing the costume, pondering what she might feel. She shouldn’t, she was a professional, and she was working! And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it . . .

“Come now, let’s not dilly dally. Spit-spot!” she said, tapping Reina’s bottom playfully with the business end of the riding crop.

Reina jumped, giggling nervously at the incredibly awkward situation. She realized that this mysterious old woman had given her the sales spiel of a lifetime. Perhaps she owed it to the woman to try on her damned costume.

“That’s a girl, there’s nothing wrong with having a spot of fun,” the old woman said, again giving Reina that odd sensation like she was reading her mind. Reina moved in the direction the woman was gesturing, and she looked back, seeing the old woman following, riding crop in hand, with a black cat following her. The cat hissed at her, making her jump. It didn’t seem to like her.

“Shhh!’ the old woman said, hushing the cat. “Be patient, dear. Reina is our guest. There will be time for discipline later.”

“How did you know my name?” Reina asked, realizing it was the second time the woman had called her by name.

“You told me, silly,” she said, as if speaking to a child. “Use the changing room on the left. It’s the largest, and the most private. Hurry up, or momma spank!” she said, tapping her palm with the riding crop.

The whole visit was taking on a surreal tone. Then her eyes widened. Of course, this was an elaborate practical joke, set up by the office. There was no other explanation for the woman knowing so much about her.

Reina opened her mouth to call out the woman’s charade, but something made her stop, as she looked at the woman grinning playfully. Her whole office thought she was a stuck-up prude. She was sure they planned this to embarrass her, expecting her to run crying from the shop. They were probably outside waiting and would bring it up every time they saw her. Reina knew she had to loosen up a little, and not get offended, especially by this harmless old woman. It’s not like the lady was Ellis, her crude, ogling boss. Besides, she had to admit, part of her craved doing something daring, outrageous. Ellis and her coworkers would never see her wear it, this was just for herself. Like the sexy lingerie she owned. No man had seen her wear it.

“I’ll just buy it,” said Reina, finally. “No need to try it on.”

The old woman smiled. “Oh no dear, I have a rule. I get to see you wear it.” Then the woman sighed, her voice more pleading. “Please, it took me a day to make that dress, indulge me?”

Reina couldn’t say no to such a thing, and in fact, it would be nice for someone safe to see her in it. The changing room was much larger than she’d have guessed, and when she locked the door behind her, Reina realized there was something odd about the room. She’d noticed it had had four doors on the outside, but those doors weren’t present on the inside. She chuckled. The other three doors were obviously fake, and the woman had brought her through the only real door. She was truly a great show person.

Reina checked that the door was securely locked, and looked carefully for cameras, before hanging the costume on a wooden peg and beginning to undress. She stepped out of her shoes, then removed her jacket and hung it up in a storage area, then removed her gun belt and holstered weapon and placed those in the cubby up high, but within reach. Reina stepped out of her pants and then unbuttoned her blouse, folding both neatly and placing them in the cubby. Bending over she pulled off her ankle stockings and placed them on the pile, feeling the cool wood floor on her feet.

Standing there in her white bra and panties, Reina had that odd sense of being watched, and she checked again for any signs of cameras. The room was full of mirrors, but none of them looked like they could be one-way, so she calmed her nerves and stripped off her underwear. The sight of her naked body in the front and back mirrors made Reina briefly turn about and check herself out, but then she turned to the hanging costume.

She would not have had a clue how to wear it if not for the image on the label. After examining it closely and looking at the artist depiction, she figured out how to drape it behind her neck, so that two narrow strips covered the center of her breasts, held onto her body by the swell of her full breasts and a thin red string she tied off encircling her chest. A small chested woman wouldn’t be able to wear it, she realized with a frown. The right side of the garment had two tiny, tattered strips, that ran down to what passed for a skirt – a circle of red silk that draped over her hips and bottom, again held in place by her feminine curves. Reina wasn’t as tall as the white girl in the depiction, yet the costume seemed a perfect fit to her curves. Reina pulled down on the front of the skirt, but that simply lifted the back, exposing more of her ass. The thin material covered just enough of her feminine parts as to avoid an arrest for indecent exposure. Maybe. And if there was a slight wind, the crowd would see her everything.

Reina looked at the tag again, and then she gasped. The tall blond girl . . . was gone. In her place . . . was an Asian girl! A shorter, voluptuous tanned Asian girl with shoulder length black hair. Reina blinked in confusion. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her, and she flipped the tag over – perhaps it had two sides? But the back was blank. She flipped it back, and then her eyes narrowed. The men depicted in the crowd had also changed, they looked . . . familiar . . .

“Oh, it fits you perfectly!” said the woman from directly behind her.

Reina spun in alarm, dropping the tag and staggering for balance. She reflexively grabbed at her waist for her gun.

“Are you going to shoot me?” the old woman said, laughing. “Slave girls don’t have guns, silly! Really, Reina, what a little ditz you are.”

Reina looked about in confusion. “How did you get in here? The door was locked.” If the woman got in, perhaps there was a hidden door? And one-way windows?

“No it wasn’t. You left it wide open, so anyone could see inside. Really, Reina, just because you dress like a bimbo, doesn’t mean you should act like one, too.”

Reina looked past the woman, and saw the door was indeed totally wide open. She opened her mouth in confusion, then yelped in surprise when the woman wrapped on her bottom with the tip of her riding crop.

“Enough of your foolishness. Let’s go see you in the big mirror, shall we?” Reina hesitated. Every fiber of her being said to take off the ridiculous costume and get dressed, in case there really was a camera recording. And yet . . . she was dying to see how she looked. And she really didn’t want to have to arrest the old woman for hitting her with the whip. She imagined the guys at the department laughing at her for bringing in an old woman. Better to play along with her harmless game.

Part B


With a sigh of annoyance, Reina followed the woman out to the big three-way mirror, and she gasped at the sight of herself. She looked . . . stunning, and so unfamiliar. Sexy, uninhibited, proud for once, to show off her assets. It felt good, she realized with a small grin. She kept turning this way and that, looking at herself from every angle, which the mirror made easy. She undid her ponytail and shook her head, splaying her shiny black hair about her shoulders.

Then she felt the woman pressing the crop into her back, urging her forward. “Up onto the block!” she said.

Reina looked down and noticed a small raised wooden platform, maybe a foot off the ground. She stepped up onto it, and gasped softly, for the cardboard felt like warm, worn stone on her bare feet. Reina looked down at it, but it still looked like wood.

She looked at the woman in confusion, and the woman smiled at her. “Clever isn’t it? It feels like the stone of a slave auction, don’t you think? I made it myself,” added the woman, proudly.

Reina nodded, a thrill running up her spine. Wearing the slave silk, and standing barefoot on a stone floor, she suddenly felt like she was far away, on the worn stones of a barbarian world. In such a place, dressed like this, she would cease to be Reina Sayama, FBI agent and strong, independent woman. She’d be a helpless slave, at the mercy and whim of strong, barbaric men, who hungered to ravage slave girls like her.

“You feel it now, don’t you dearie?” said the woman, approvingly. “Your bare feet walk across the stone floor, before the crowd of barbarian men, and women, all eager to see you, to see ALL of you. You will bare your soul, as well as your body, for you are nothing but a slave. Whatever you were, is no matter now. All that matters to them is your beauty, your flesh, and your eagerness to please. You’ve never been more fearful, and you’ve never been more aroused than you are now, about to be auctioned to your future master, or mistress. Your old life ends, and your new life begins.”

Reina shivered, her thighs twitching suddenly, and she blushed as she looked down at the woman. She hoped it would be a man who won her – a woman might be cruel, might whip her, and deny her pleasure. Oh god, thought Reina, what am I thinking? She felt an odd tingling all over, an excitement that she’d never felt on any date. What was she doing? She suddenly felt naked, vulnerable, “I should go now,” she murmured, stepping down off the platform.

“Oww!” yowled Reina suddenly, hearing the slap of the crop on her bare ass a moment after she felt the sting.

“Back up there, girl!” barked the old woman. Reina quickly got back on the stone platform, rubbing her bottom. The woman had barely hit her, it was the shock that had made her cry out. Then the woman smiled. “You’re not quite done yet, hon. You forgot the rest of your costume.” Then she put down the whip and held up the bronze chains.

Reina glared at her. “You’re not putting those on me!”

The woman chuckled softly. “Aww, is the brave FBI agent afraid of these little decorative chains? A child could break her way out of them.” She held up the chains for Reina to see.

Reina refused to be goaded into doing something stupid, but she took the chains in her hands. The woman was right, they were tiny, delicate chain links with two wrist loops that opened and closed easily, and didn’t seem to have a locking mechanism. Clearly meant to look like restraints without being them. Reina couldn’t deny the thrill of the situation. At home, she’d sometimes fantasized about being a slave, wearing chains, but this old woman really brought the fantasy to life with her accoutrements and her storytelling. Like a naughty romance novel, so wrong, but so hard to put down.

“Just try them on, dearie,” coaxed the old lady. “Let your imagination run wild for a minute. There’s no harm in it.”

Reina blushed finally. “I . . . I mean . . . alright, fine. Put them on,” she sighed, holding out her wrists. The old woman smiled, before fiddling with the chains and reaching up to click the ring around Reina’s right wrist. Then she did her left wrist with the other bronze circle, leaving the delicate chain dangling between her wrists. The old woman gently pulled Reina’s wrists together and then took the loose chain and wrapped it around a small tongue, until her wrists were bound before her.

“Now the collar,” said the woman, stepping up on the block and reaching up to put the two half-moons of tiny thin bronze around Reina’s slender neck. She jumped when she heard the quiet click of the collar closing around her neck. Then the woman stepped back down off the platform to look at Reina. “Much better! Now your costume is complete.”

Reina wasn’t really listening, for she was still unnerved by the feel of the cold metal round her neck. It was a completely unfamiliar sensation, and when she looked up to see herself in the mirror, she gasped, her eyes going wide. She saw a beautiful Asian girl in chains and sheer silks that did little to cover her curves. Her wrists were bound together, her hands demurely placed to cover her sex, for the red silk didn’t quite do the job. Reina suddenly realized her breathing was ragged, and her whole body felt alive, tingling, on-edge. She bit her lip in consternation, for she could see her pink nipples pressing urgently against the red silk. She closed her thighs to ward off the heat she felt growing there. She was losing her self control, she had to end this!

Suddenly, she squinted, for the mirror seemed to be swirling, as if immersed in fog. Her hair suddenly billowed out, flowing about her face as if caught in a strong wind. She heard the woman’s voice behind her, but somehow she was unable to turn to see the chanting woman.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Reina heading towards a fall.
Smart and sassy,
Strong and bold,
Will learn her place,
When she is sold!

The room went dark for an instant, and Reina felt like she was falling, her stomach dropping out. Then the lights came up again, Reina’s bound hands flew to her mouth with a gasp, and she nearly fainted. The mirrors were gone, in fact the room was gone, and in front of her were vertical iron bars. Not the gray colored bars of a penitentiary, but black iron, the kind . . . nobody had used in a century. Past the iron bars, Reina could see beautiful rolling green hills, and in the foreground, a bustling village. She rushed to the bars, gripping them to peer out. Men and women passed by, carrying water jugs, or hoes and other primitive farming equipment. Other men dressed as warriors carried swords and wore leather armor, and everyone was so tanned and . . . healthy looking.

“Where am I?” murmured Reina, shaking her head, half expecting her vision to disappear.

“You’re in my world now, dear,” said a strangely familiar voice. Reina whirled, realizing as she did that she was in a large cage, for the iron bars were on all sides. Just outside the bars on the opposite side was a woman, about her age, dressed in beautiful flowing silks that covered and emphasized her ample curves. Reina remembered her own silk, and she looked down, gasping to see the slave garb still clinging to her near-naked body. Then she jumped, for she heard a hiss of a cat. Swirling around the woman’s slender legs and leather sandals was a black cat, scowling and hissing at her.

“She’s not judging your character, dear,” said the woman, leaning down to rub the cat. “She sees your past misdeeds, and she wants to make sure I know about them.”

“What?” croaked Reina, looking at the woman in confusion.

“I speak of redemption, my dear Reina,” said the woman, feigning annoyance that Reina was still not getting it. “You came to me to fulfill your deepest fantasies, did you not? Well, there is a price to pay for such a gift. You must redeem your past sins, before you can earn the greatest pleasures a woman can be given.”

Reina’s mouth fell open. The voice, the unfriendly cat, the lilting, slightly amused tone . . . it was the woman from the costume store! Only she was young and beautiful. “It’s you!” gasped Reina. “But . . . you’re so young . . . how?”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not important, but thank you for noticing. I’m not so interesting to talk about. You, however,” she held her hand to her chin. “You have an interesting past. And that past has caught up with you. I hope you are ready!” The woman turned to go, but Reina dashed to the bars.

“Please, tell me what is going on? Where is this place?” she pleaded, looking about in fear. She looked about the beautiful valley with verdant colors. It didn’t even seem like early spring. “This doesn’t even look like . . .”

“Oh, it isn’t, dear,” chuckled the woman. “Everything you know, your fancy career, your phone, your boyfriend. They’re all gone now. Now the entire sum of your life, your value . . . it’s all there, in that little iron cage, dressed in slave silks. Your beauty, and your ability to please your masters, those are all that matter to you now.”

Reina was reeling. “No!” she gasped. “I’m dreaming, this is not real, I’m not stupid, this is not possible!” Then her eyes narrowed. “You did this! You . . . must have drugged me or something!”

The woman chuckled. “A drug that turns you into a slave? Now that is fantastical. You’ve dreamed before, did it ever feel so real? No matter, think of it as your dream fantasy, but one you never have to wake up from. Enjoy yourself, my dear Reina!”

Reina suddenly shook the bars with anger, though they didn’t budge. “Let me out of here, now! I’m a Federal Agent . . . d-do you know the penalty for kidnapping a federal agent?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, grinning at the fuming girl in slave silks. They were starting to draw attention from people nearby. “I confess I don’t know the penalty,” shrugged the woman. “Not that it matters, you’re not a federal agent anymore, Miss Sayama. You’re not even a free woman anymore. But don’t worry, that smart little brain of yours will still be useful, if you can accept your new life, and use it to learn to please your new masters.” To emphasize the last point, the woman reached through the bars and smacked Reina on the ass with the riding crop, making a sharp fleshy sound as Reina jumped in surprise.

Then she turned, her eye catching something. “Oh, here comes one of your new masters. The auction block awaits. It is a bit of a ride to get there though, so you will have time to think about your fate.”

Reina turned, looking out of the side of the cage. Rolling toward her was something out of her worst nightmare. It was a horse-drawn wagon of sorts, with a wooden door that she could see contained two women, their hands on the bars looking out anxiously. She could see that the women wore the same red silks as she. Yet the wagon also had thick wooden poles sticking out to the sides like oars of an ancient ship. There were six of the oars, and on three of them, the slavers had chained a naked woman, walking alongside the wagon with her wrists bound behind her back, while a length of thin rope ran from the oars to their collars. Unlike the two girls locked inside the wagon’s compartment, these three slave girls were completely naked, forced to walk in bare feet along the dirt path next to the wagon. Without thinking, Reina moved to that side of the cage so she could see better.

“The slaves in red silk get to ride first class,” said the woman, moving around the cage to be close to Reina. “The red silk indicates a prized capture, like a princess from a neighboring kingdom, or a nobleman’s daughter. The naked slaves are just ordinary girls, so they have to walk. But that’s not really their biggest concern.”

Just then the man sitting atop the wagon pulled on the reins and the wagon came to a stop, before another cage just like Reina’s. She watched transfixed as a thickly muscled, cruel-looking man riding on the back of the wagon stepped off and went to the cage. He unlocked the door, leading out a pretty blond girl, her eyes wide with fear and her shoulders slumped in defeat. He tied her wrists behind her back and attached her to the rearmost oar. While the wagon was stopped, a couple of men, farmers by their clothing and tools, came over to look at the captive slaves. Chuckling, they moved over to a beautiful redhead, tied to one of the oars. The girl shrank back in fear, but the rope didn’t give her much room to escape, and the men began to touch her, their hands running over her breasts, and between her legs, laughing at her soft protests as she squirmed helplessly under their rough hands.

“Oh god,” murmured Reina, her hands reflexively moving around herself as she watched the slave girl struggling in the wandering hands of the two farmers. Then she realized the blond girl’s cage looked identical to hers, and the wagon was going to go right past her. She turned to the woman in alarm. “Wait, this wagon . . . is coming for me?”

“Mmm-hmm,” said the woman cheerfully. “That’s a slave caravan, bringing slaves to auction in the town center square. Lucky for you, you wear the red slave silks of someone important, a nobleman’s daughter perhaps. Maybe your father made some bad bets in his trading business, and lost a lot of money. He had to sell you to pay his debts. It was you or his house, what would he choose? Or you were a bored rich housewife who volunteered for sexual slavery? Who knows, the point is, you will get to ride safely in the wagon with the other high-class merchandise.”

Reina was listening to the woman, but her eyes were fixated on the wagon. The two farmers had moved on from the sobbing redhead, to the new blond girl, and were fondling her as well, chuckling at her high-pitched squeals of protest. How horrible, she thought, to be tied to the wagon like a common animal. Suddenly she felt something soft and warm rubbing her calf, and without thinking she pushed the cat away. It hissed, looking up at her from the middle of the cage.

“You had a cat before, and he died young, do you remember?” said the woman, cryptically.

Reina looked at her in confusion. “What? How did you . . .” She shook her head, it was one thing to know her name . . .”

“You didn’t treat him very well did you?” said the woman, accusingly.

Reina gasped, shaking her head. “What? How did you . . .? I—I mean . . . I had just applied for the FBI. I was under so much stress at that time! He was always bothering me, climbing on my keyboard while I was doing my Academy work. I . . . regretted it later, how was I to know he would die so young?” She looked down at her feet. “I . . . thought I’d have time to make it up to him, the poor little guy. He died of heart failure, if I only knew he had so little time, I’d have been nicer to him.” Reina’s shoulders slumped as she remembered the regretful turn of events.

The woman reached through the bars, placing her hand on Reina’s shoulder as a tear went down her cheek. “I know, you couldn’t have known. You’re not a bad person, I forgive you. Unfortunately, little Artemis here, she isn’t the forgiving type.”

Suddenly there was a howling cry from the cat, and Reina turned to see Artemis jumping up toward her. Reina squealed, trying to turn to avoid the outstretched claws, but the diminutive black cat’s paws caught on her red silk dress, pulling and then ripping it right off her body. Reina cried out as she felt the sudden cool air on her completely naked body, and she lunged, trying to catch the cat, but it scuttled out through the bars, pulling her red silk dress behind it. The cat turned, just outside of reach, and looked back at Reina.

“Give me that back, you little brat!” she exclaimed, reaching uselessly through the bars. But the cat and her silk dress were just out of reach. If cats could smile, she was sure it would have smiled at her, and Reina stood up, turning to the woman. She saw her smiling as well.

“Oh dear, look at you now, Reina,” said the woman, looking her naked form up and down. Reina gasped, covering herself with her hands. “You’re no longer a high-class slave without your red silks, are you?” As if to emphasize the point, she looked over to the wagon, which had completed loading a couple slaves and was now rolling toward her cage, pulled by the powerful horse.

Reina paled. The slaver was going to see a naked girl in a cage, and tie her to the empty oar, like a common slave girl! “Oh god!” she exclaimed, turning to the cat and getting down on her knees. “Please, give it back!” she asked quietly, to the cat, glancing nervously back at the approaching wagon. The dress was torn, but if she had it in her possession, the slaver would know she belonged in the cabin. The cat was just looking at her, the precious red silk dress in her mouth. “Here, kitty, kitty,” said Reina softly. “Come on, Artemis. Come here girl,” she tried. The cat just looked at her, and Reina made a sound of exasperation. Cats! Never doing what you wanted of them! Suddenly there was a noise, and she turned her head to see the slaver, the one who’d taken the other girls, approaching the door to her cage, holding an iron key.

No! thought Reina. She needed her silk dress back. She turned back to the cat, and then gasped. It was gone, and so was the mysterious woman. Reina looked about in a panic, but there was no sign of them. She dashed from one side of the cage to the other, peering out into the bright sun. But they had vanished. Reina suddenly felt terribly alone and vulnerable. She jumped in alarm at the metallic scraping sound of her cage door swinging open.

“Let’s go, slave,” commanded the slaver. Reina turned to face him, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Up close, the man looked so large and muscular. She’d had self defense training at the Academy, but she knew from experience she had little chance to overpower such a large and powerful man. Reina swallowed heavily. Even if she got past him, where would she go? Naked in a strange place, where men took women as slaves. She had no weapons, no ID, no phone to call for backup.

“What are you thinking, girl?” she whispered suddenly to herself. “This place isn’t real!” And yet, as the tall slaver stood there towering over her, he felt very real, and her nakedness felt very real. Suddenly the slaver grinned.

“A disobedient Oriental, so rare,” he said approvingly. “My favorite kind.” Reina bristled at his racist generalization.

“Go to hell,” she breathed. “I’m no slave, get away from me.” Reina quickly unwound the chain that bound her wrists and pulled on the rings around her right wrist. It wouldn’t budge, and she glanced down in alarm. The thin, decorative metal ring that she’d put on the shop had changed. It was thicker, and she gasped, seeing a small lock keeping the two halves of the manacle locked together. How, that hadn’t been there before? Suddenly she cried out in pain, as the slaver had moved quickly to grasp a fistful of her hair. Her bound wrists instinctively reached up to try to ease the pain in her head, but the slaver’s other hand punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. The fist in her hair forced her down to her knees, and she cried out again as her knees hit the hard rough stone floor. Then he forced her forward, and her hands left her hair to stop herself from hitting the ground. Now on all fours, her head forced low by the slaver’s grip, Reina turned her head to see the slaver’s free hand reach for his hip and remove a coiled leather whip. Reina struggled, but the slaver was quick, and then she screamed when the lash hit the cheeks of her bare ass.

“Stop!” cried Reina, as the fiery pain in her ass made her arch her back. Then she screamed again as the slaver whipped her now burning bottom again. He did it a third time and then mercifully stopped, leaving Reina gasping for breath, her whole body tense in fear. She’d never felt such pain, and even though he’d stopped, the burning lingered, leaving her panting and ragged.

“That is just a taste of what will be done to you if you disobey,” said the slaver, his warm breath close to her ear. “Are you going to waste any of my time?”

“No!” gasped Reina, trying to shake her head, but it was held fast in his strong grip.

“Address me as Master,” corrected the slaver, his grip in her hair tightening.

“No, Master!” cried Reina. It felt like her hair might rip from her head.

“No, Master what?” said the slaver?

“Uh, uh, no, Master, I will be good!” blurted Reina, guessing at what he wanted to hear.

“Good, I know you will, my little Oriental bitch,” said the slaver, soothingly. “Now get to your feet, we’re running late.”

Reina despised the man for his insults even more than the whip, but nothing in her training had prepared her for this situation. She was chained, without her weapons, on what almost appeared to be a real barbarian world, unless it was some kind of elaborate set. But she was not stupid, there was no technology on earth to send her in seconds to a place with mountains and different weather! She got to her feet, wincing as the movement brought a sting of pain from her poor reddened bottom. The slaver took the ring on the wrist and pried them open with his powerful fingers, then removed the other one from her other wrist.

“Hands behind your back,” commanded the slaver, and Reina quickly complied, but then she turned to face him.

“No, wait, there’s a mistake – I wear the red silks!” She exclaimed as he produced a long leather string from his pocket. “I should be riding in the carriage!” she pleaded, looking into his cruel eyes.

The slaver said nothing, but he roughly turned her around and bound her wrists in the leather string, Reina told herself it was just a dream. She had to be dreaming, because such a reality was too terrifying to contemplate. The slaver spun her back around, and then without warning, his hand shot up and he slapped Reina in the breasts. She cried out in pain and humiliation. How dare he do such a thing!

“That’s for failing to address me as Master,” said the slaver.

“I’m sorry, Mas—Ohhh!” screamed Reina as he slapped her bare breasts again.

“And that’s for being a lying little slave bitch,” scolded the slaver. “Move,” he ordered, grabbing her by the upper arm and guiding her quickly out of the cage. Reina couldn’t believe what had just happened. This cruel man had whipped her bare bottom, and then slapped her breasts, and he’d done it with complete impunity. No one had ever dared do such a thing!

“Don’t cry, your new life is just beginning,” chuckled the slaver, slapping Reina on her ass with the coil of the whip as she moved past him, making the girl jump and cry out in surprise. The sun was brilliant, making Reina squint as she walked outside, feeling the dirt and pebbles on her bare feet, and the warm sun on her bare skin. Reina felt the tears welling up as she was walked toward the slave caravan. All eyes were on her naked form, and she felt completely humiliated, her breasts and ass burning from the slaver’s discipline. She was an FBI agent for god’s sake, she didn’t deserve this!

As she approached the wagon, she realized the other slave girls were looking at her, with varying expressions on their pretty young faces. Some looked just fearful, while others glared at her with something resembling resentment, and Reina wondered why. She stopped as she neared the wagon, and the slaver grasped her upper arm in a large fist. “Over here, girl,” he said, moving her toward the empty oar, its rope dangling ominously in the wind.

The reality of having to walk, attached to this oar and completely exposed, was too much. She had to risk trying to convince him.

“Please, Master,” she begged. “I wasn’t lying about the silks. Didn’t you see me wearing them? This . . . this cat took them from me! I’m a . . . nobleman’s daughter. You . . . you must have some papers about me?”

The slaver looked at her as if his horse had just spoken to him, and then he burst out laughing. “A cat stole your red silks, you say? Oh, well then of course, you should ride with the rich girls in the cabin!” Reina knew immediately he was teasing her when he pulled her wrists behind her back and began to bind her with the leather string.

Reina couldn’t stop herself from pulling, trying to free her wrists. “No, I—I’m serious! Master, I mean. I’m . . . I’m a nobleman’s daughter! I should ride in there!” She looked at the slaver pleadingly. “You must have seen me in the cage, wearing the red silks?”

The slaver ignored her pulling, his powerful hand holding her wrists in place as he finished winding the leather straps and tying them together. Then he clipped the thin rope tying the oar to her collar and looked at her with a grin. “I did in fact see you wearing them when we first approached. If you truly wanted to ride in the safety of the cabin, you’d not have taken them off and hidden them from me.” Then he burst out laughing. “All you Oriental sluts like games, don’t you? Well, don’t worry, you’ll get everything you desire soon enough!”

Reina didn’t even hear the racist insults as she looked at him in confusion, until she comprehended what he’d said. He must have seen her wearing the silks, and yet he assumed she’d removed them herself, so she could be tied up with the common slave girls? “W-what? No!” she exclaimed. “No, Master, please that’s not true! I want to ride in there, I’m telling you now!”

The slaver turned to look at her, then finally shrugged. “Alright,” he said, making Reina sigh with relief. “You’ve earned this.” Then he pulled something from his pocket and grabbed a fistful of her hair, making her yelp in pain. The slaver used the chance to shove a wooden dowel between her teeth, large enough that Reina couldn’t close her mouth when she bit down on it. The slaver skillfully tied the gag behind her head, ignoring her garbled protests and shaking head. Then to Reina’s shock, he reached down between her legs to cup her sex, inserting his middle finger a small ways inside her. Reina stiffened in shock, her eyes wide as she stared into the cold gray eyes of the slaver. His finger moved inside her, and she cried out into her gag.

“There now, that’s the only sound I want to hear from a common pleasure slave,” said the slaver, approvingly. “We’ve no need of your words anymore, Oriental slave slut.” Then he pulled out something else from his hip pack. Reina’s eyes widened in horror as she saw him hold up what looked like a large wooden dildo, attached to some leather strings. “Do I need to strap this on you as well, for the walk up to the auction house?”

A terrified squeak erupted past Reina’s gag, and she vehemently shook her head, her eyes pleading with the slaver as she mewled assurances into the wooden gag.

“You’ll be a good little Oriental pleasure slut from now?” said the slaver, raising an eyebrow.

Reina nodded vigorously. Anything but that!

The slaver frowned, then to her surprise, he reached up and untied the gag from behind her head. “I want to hear you say it,” he said, in explanation.

Reina grimaced at the thought of speaking such humiliating words, and she hesitated until she saw his expression begin to turn angry. The words spilled from her lips. “I’ll be a good little Oriental pleasure slut from now on . . . Master!”

The wide grin of approval from the slaver made Reina’s shame doubly worse, and she lowered her eyes, unable to meet his cruel gaze. His expression said “I own you now.”

“Well done, slave, you’re learning,” said the slaver. Then he patted Reina on the ass and went back to the wagon, instructing the driver to move on. Reina just stood there with her eyes cast down, struggling with the shame of complying with the cruel man’s orders. She didn’t want to learn to be a slave! His praise was even worse than his disgusting insults. The terrible words echoed in her ears, and she vowed she’d never say such a thing again. You’re an FBI agent, she thought. You’ll figure out a way out of this.

Then she heard a creak as the horse began to pull the wagon forward on the cobble street. Reina looked up in misery as the slack in the rope tying her to the oar grew tight, jerking her into motion as it pulled on her collar. She didn’t have to walk very fast to keep up with the wagon, fortunately, but the shame of being pulled by a collar on her neck burned in her, and she felt a sudden kindred with the blond girl in front of her, trudging dejectedly with her wrists bound just above her bare ass. Reina looked about, but she couldn’t see the girls on the other side of the carriage, she could only see the blond and the redhead. She could also see the two girls in red caged in the carriage; they looked terrified, peering out between the metal bars. She and the girls were all headed for the same terrible fate, an auction block, and enslavement.

Reina quickly found her feet were getting sore from walking barefoot on the worn stones and dirt of the old street. She wondered again where they were. The road was something you’d find in old Rome, and few other places in the world. But this wasn’t Italy, where was it? It was like something out of a dream, but she’d never had a dream that felt so real. But if it were a dream, then she could be anywhere. It could be Earth in the past, or an alien planet that looked like Earth. Reina found it tiring to walk like this, her wrists tied behind her back, but if she fell behind on the pace, the rope would jerk her collar and make her lose her balance. Once the blond girl in front of her fell down, forcing the slaver to stop the caravan. He hopped down and whipped the poor girl’s bare ass three times before hopping back up on the carriage. The caravan moved on to the sound of the blond girl sobbing quietly. What a cruel world, thought Reina, where a girl who couldn’t be more than 19 was severely punished for stumbling. Reina told herself the slaver would pay for his cruelty when she escaped her bonds.

The caravan continued up the slight incline, and was leaving the lush green forest area and entering the edges of a small city. What had been a road sparse with people or buildings, quickly became a busy city street, and that meant onlookers, many of them. Men, women, and even children, stopped what they were doing to look at the caravan, and the naked slave girls being slowly marched through the streets. At first, Reina tried to turn her body toward the wagon, hunching her shoulders, anything to try to hide her curves from the dozens of eyes looking at her. But it was hopeless, and her cheeks burned with shame. Even worse were the comments.

“Look, an Oriental! She’s tall for her kind, and look at her breasts, so full and round, like ripe melons!”
“Yeah, I wanna stick my cock between them and make her lick it!”
“Orientals make the best pleasure slaves, so naturally eager to please.”
“They love being bound, it gets them wet.”
“I bet she’s a virgin, look at the way she blushes when we look at her body.”
“I heard Orientals have tight little pussies.”
“Yeah, even your little cock would feel big to her!”
“My middle finger would feel big to her!”

Reina felt the tears beginning to dampen her face. She felt so helpless, unable to cover any inch of her body from their intrusive stares, or protect her ears from their humiliating words. A few times, a man would move toward her, and she would use the slack in her rope to hustle nervously around their groping hands. The men would usually just laugh and move on with their daily routines. The endless ogling and suggestive comments just seemed to make her feel more naked and helpless. Her only salvation was that the caravan hadn’t stopped, for then she’d be unable to avoid them.

“Some water for your horse, good sir?” said a loud voice up in front of the caravan. Looking forward, she saw a man in dark leathers gesturing toward a wooden trough filled with water by the side of the cobbled street.

“Very good of you,” responded the slaver, getting off the back of the wagon. He gestured to the driver who guided the horse over toward the trough, then hopped down, unhooking the horse so it could fetch a drink.

Oh god, thought Reina, I spoke too soon. Sure enough, with the caravan stationary, a small group of men who looked like laborers began to saunter over. Reina stepped backwards as far as the rope would let her. She could do nothing but watch anxiously as the four men moved over to the redhead who was two oars in front of her. She bit her lip and watched in misery as the redhead tried to move away, only to run out of rope. The four men slowly surrounded her, smiling and talking to the trembling girl as their hands began to fondle and tease her naked body. Reina heard the girl’s protests gradually turn into soft cries and stifled moans as the four sets of hands ignited the flames in her helpless body.

“What have we hear, an Oriental?” said a voice behind Reina. She jumped, not having noticed the two men who’d come up behind her. The man who spoke was tall with dark skin from a life of laboring outdoors, his face cruel with a few missing teeth. Reina tried to move away, but his left hand was already on her bound wrists, keeping her in place.

“Yeah, from behind, we thought you were a native, girl,” said the other man who was now on her left, close enough that she could smell his foul breath. “That’s a fine, rounded ass for a yellow.”

That was too much for Reina. “Do I look yellow to you?” she burst out, bringing her knee up to connect with the man’s groin. He howled in pain, toppling over onto the stone street. Expecting retaliation from the man behind her on her right, she snapped her heel up between his legs, just barely connecting with something soft.

“Son of a bitch,” groaned the second man, falling to his knees and holding his groin. Reina suddenly heard laughter, and realized it was the four laborers who had stopped tormenting the redhead and were pointing at the two downed men and bawling with laughter. Reina grinned for a moment, then she cried out in pain when she felt the familiar fist in her hair.

“I warned you, bitch,” said the gravelly voice of the caravan slaver, who’d snuck up on her somehow. “Get on your knees,” he ordered, though his powerful grip forced her down before she could even comply. Reina cried out again when his fist tilted her head up, turning it so she could see his angry face. Reina cursed herself for lashing out, now her still sore ass was going to pay for her lack of self control. But the slaver didn’t have the whip in his hand. Instead he gestured toward the two men lying on the ground.

“You’re going to apologize to these two fine gentlemen,” barked the slaver.

Reina looked at the slaver, then at the two men. The one who’d got her knee was in too much pain to even notice, but the other man was now trying to sit up, and was looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” said Reina. “Masters,” she added, guessing that was what she was supposed to say.

There was a pause, and she heard a roar of laughter. It came from the four men, who’d left the redhead and were now standing in front of their two downed compatriots. One of the men spoke. “Dat ain’t how a slave slut apologizes, girl.” The other men all laughed again.

“It’s close. She’s on her knees, and she used her mouth,” said one of the other men, which cued more laughter. Reina suddenly flushed red. “She juss needs a little coachin’.”

They were serious, she realized. “Oh god, no,” Reina murmured, which just drew even more laughter. She watched in horror as two of the men went to their friend, trying to help him up, but he just groaned and lay back down, holding his crotch. It was clear the two downed men would not be getting any apologies.

“How ‘bout she ‘pologizes ta us?” said one of the men, his voice sounding a little strange. Reina gasped when she saw the way the four men were now looking at her, imagining her apologizing properly to them. She turned to look at the caravan slaver. Surely he wouldn’t allow that?

“Fine with me,” said the slaver, shrugging. “Just one of you though, I don’t got time for this.”

Reina paled, shaking her head and looking at the slaver. “Please don’t let them do this, Master!” she cried. Reina’s mind whirled in panic. “Master! I’m a valuable slave, s-shouldn’t I be kept . . . clean?” But he was already walking back to the caravan, and if he heard her, he gave no indication.

“Don’t worry, slut,” said the man standing in front of her. “We’re just gonna use your mouth, that ain’t got no value anyways.”

His knucklehead friends laughed on cue, and Reina glared at them. Like hell if they were going to stick anything in her mouth. But the men were preoccupied deciding who was going to get the apology.

“Is me, was my idea,” said one.

“Bull shit,” said the next. “I gots the biggest cock. I’ll get the best apology.”

“You’ll take too long, I’ll be real quick,” said the third. “I gots a thing for Oriental pussy.”

“Hey, boss man, can we take her from both ends?” shouted the fourth, drawing a gasp of alarm from Reina.

“No,” barked the slaver. “You know the rules, mouth only.”

Oh god, thought Reina. Now she knew where the line was on high-priced new slaves. But a little blow job was ok, it seemed. If he sticks that dirty thing in my mouth, he’ll get a surprise, thought Reina. Then suddenly, there was shouting, and the four men turned into one giant ball of flurrying arms and legs, rolling on the ground, fighting over who would get to soil the Asian slave girl. Reina looked in awe as the men forgot all about her, and fought and wrestled on the worn stones of the city street. She heard the slaver yell to the driver, and suddenly the caravan was moving again. Reina didn’t wait for the rope to pull her collar, instead she quickly stepped over and around the wrestling men, relief pouring over her. The caravan moved on down the street into the city, leaving the four still wrestling men behind. More eyes stared at her naked body, but even that didn’t bother her, knowing how she’d escaped a much worse fate back there.

A few minutes passed, and then suddenly the caravan was stopping again. Reina looked ahead in alarm, and then saw a metal cage by the side of the road, containing a slim, dark-haired girl wearing the red dress like the one the cat had stolen from Reina. Just like before, now that the caravan had stopped, men began to approach the girls tied to the oars. Reina looked about in alarm as she was slowly surrounded by several young shirtless men, all tanned and muscular.

“No, don’t touch me!” she squealed as hands came at once to touch her sides, her back, her soft breasts and her face. Reina squirmed one way, then another, trying to escape the rough hands on her flesh, but everywhere she turned was a strong male body and groping hands. “G-get away!” she protested in despair, still struggling in their grip. Then she arched her back and gasped, as a hand slid between her ass cheeks from behind, and began to slowly stroke the crevice of her womanhood. “No! Get your h-hand out of there!” she wailed. It wasn’t right, to be touched like this. She was a federal agent, they’d go to prison for life for this affront!

“Let’s buy this one for the barracks,” said a young man who had moved around to stand in front of her. Soldiers or guards, she realized. “I like them feisty,” he added, with a grin, his hand reaching up to grasp her chin. Reina shot up her knee toward the crotch of the soldier, but he used his own knee to deflect hers. “Now, now,” he scolded her, chuckling. “We can’t have that.” Reina gasped as the man suddenly grabbed her leg, lifting it up and tucking it tightly under his arm. She squirmed in alarm at the embarrassing position this left her in, standing naked on one leg with the other one up in the air. The soldier held her slender calf in his tight grip, and he smiled, moving his other hand between her legs.

Reina’s eyes went wide with shock and she gasped, for her naked pussy was now completely exposed to his exploring fingers. There was now one hand exploring her from the rear, and another from the front, and her mouth was gaping in shock like a fish out of water. “As expected, this one’s already moist and slave hot,” said the soldier as his fingers gently spread her glistening pussy lips to find her sensitive nub.

“Oh god, s-stop that!” moaned Reina, squirming helplessly in the grip of three men. Hands squeezed and massaged her breasts, her nipples were pinched and tugged while the fingers between her legs did soft, skillful swirls around her clit, which was growing slick with her juices and terribly sensitive. Reina struggled to free her wrists from the leather string that bound them behind her back. She struggled to free her leg from the soldier’s grip, and her chest from the two men and their groping hands. She squirmed, trying to close her thighs to hide her quivering opening from the teasing fingers. But it was hopeless, they were three strong men, and she was just a slender bound female.

“Look at her little nipples,” chuckled the soldier to her left, squeezing one for emphasis. Reina moaned in response, which only drew more torments on her poor engorged little buds. Bound and held as she was, she couldn’t fight the relentless touches, not crude and rough as she would have expected; the men were skilled in arousing a female slave, and Reina was helpless to stop her body from responding eagerly, preparing itself to be taken. The man in front chuckled when Reina’s hips jerked and twitched to his skillful fingers.

“Please stop, don’t do this!” she pleaded, but her change in tact only encouraged the men to excite more heat from her trapped body. Reina bit her lip, holding in the sounds of pleasure that threatened to burst from her lips. She refused to give them that satisfaction.

“You’re gonna cum for us, little slut,” said the bastard in front of her. “Look at you, all slave hot for three city guards. I bet you want us to stick our cocks in you right here, don’t ya?”

“Like hell I do!” gasped Reina, his insults striking a chord that burned through her body’s heated state. “I’ll never cum for the likes of you pigs.”

The soldier seemed taken aback by her defiance, and perhaps it was uncharacteristic of slaves, but he quickly recovered. “We’ll see about that. All you Oriental sluts are easy to make cum.” Then he gripped Reina’s trapped leg even tighter, and squeezed her swollen clit, causing a moan to slip past her tightly shut lips. Reina blushed in shame at her failure to keep silent. She could voice whatever defiance she wished, but she was helpless to stop the men from doing whatever they wished to her, and they knew it.

“Ahem,” said a voice suddenly, behind the man who held Reina’s leg trapped. Reina craned her head to look past the soldier, and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Ellis!” she exclaimed. She couldn’t believe it. There was her boss, standing there with arms crossed and a disapproving expression on his face. He looked a little different, thinner but still rounder and softer than the men around him, and of course he was dressed as the locals, although in fancier attire. The soldiers stopped touching Reina and turned to look at Ellis, then the one in front of her stiffened and backed away.

“Sorry, sir,” said the soldier to Ellis. Then he quickly gestured at his two friends. When they didn’t immediately respond, he hissed at them. “Look, stupid,” he said quietly, gesturing at his upper right chest. He must have been referring to the small red cloth that was tied to Ellis’ tunic, but whatever it was, the soldiers immediately left Reina and moved away into the crowd. Reina raised an eyebrow, wondering what it was about Ellis that made these soldiers give way so easily. He wasn’t an imposing figure by any stretch, quite the opposite.

“Hello Reina,” said Ellis, smiling warmly as he moved closer. “I like your outfit,” he added, giving her naked form a leisurely inspection with his eyes.

Yup, that was Ellis alright, thought Reina, but she’d never been so happy to see her boss.

This is a great story on literotica and I'm delighted to see it here! Really fun set-up, but your follow-through is sooo hot. Thanks for writing it and posting it lol