Unintentional Enslavement
Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2024 10:43 pm
[Note: This is the actual story based on the idea posted by sissy (used with permission) in gary's topic looking for ideas. I was originally going to write a short story, but the topic just would listen and began to write itself. It's not the first time I started a story that didn't go as I originally planned.]
Unintentional Enslavement Part 1
By
Fixitman8267
Julia Martin, 27, never considered herself to be naïve or impulsive even though she was frequently told she was by her friends and coworkers. Julia had been taking yoga classes for several years before the new slavery laws were enacted.
Call it what you will, denial or resistance, Julia finally gave in and decided to explore Slave TV. As luck would have it, the first time Julia tuned to the channel it was showing a live slave yoga class. Julia was enraptured by the sight of the 24 naked girls performing the slave poses and chanting the slave mantras.
While she jumped each time a slave was struck by the instructor’s (Master’s) whip, she couldn’t believe how wet her pussy was. Julia wasn’t a lesbian and wasn’t even remotely turned on by other women, so she couldn’t explain why she was so turned on.
Every day after work, Julia would tune in to the live broadcast of the beginner slave yoga class. After a few weeks, Julia thought she had memorized the poses and decided to follow along. After work, she stripped off her work clothes and donned her yoga outfit. Julia was shy and couldn’t bring herself to be naked even in her own apartment.
She rolled out her yoga mat in front of the TV and waited the few minutes for the live broadcast to begin. Unaware that the slave network had a way to track who watched slave TV and what they watched, Julia began to receive ads in her email advertising training materials for slave yoga kits for home use.
Little did she know that these training kits were a gateway to enslavement, so in her ignorance, she ordered the kit. Julia skimmed through the website to see what she would be getting. It listed a training collar, mat, and cameras to monitor the ‘person in training.’ ‘Person in training?’ Julia thought. ‘I’ve been doing regular yoga for years but the slave yoga is totally different poses, so I guess I am back in training again.’
Julia scrolled to the section about the cameras to find out why more than one was needed. According to the site, eight cameras were required to ensure the instructor could see the student from all angles. Front, rear, left, right, and in each corner. A dedicated room was recommended but any room with a TV and plenty of room with no furniture to block the cameras was acceptable.
Julia lived in a one-bedroom apartment and only had a TV in her living room. Julia was pleased to see that professional installation was part of the package. Because the cameras were 4k UHD the kit was more expensive than Julia could afford. Luckily, the company offered a payment plan that Julia selected. Julia could select 12, 24, or 48 payments. She chose the 48 payments as it offered the lowest payment at 0% interest. What Julia missed was the consequences for defaulting on the loan—immediate enslavement.
After ordering the kit, Julia put on her yoga leotard, laid out her mat, and tuned into the yoga class she has been remotely attending for several months; including when she was just watching.
A few days later, Julia received an email letting her know that the installers would deliver her kit, and she was instructed to leave her apartment key on the door trim above her door. While she was at work, the cameras and the controller would be installed, allowing the instructor to see her while she followed along with the class. The controller also contained a microphone and speakers. The following morning Julia did as instructed as she left for work.
________________________________________
Julia returned home after a long day at work, her excitement about the impending arrival of her yoga kit mingled with a trace of nervousness. She opened her apartment door and noticed everything looked normal. “Huh,” she muttered, glancing around. “That’s weird. I thought they’d leave a note or something.”
Shrugging it off, she changed into her yoga outfit—a fitted leotard that, while modest, hugged her figure a little more snugly than she’d care to admit. She rolled out her mat in front of the TV, just as she’d done countless times, and tuned into the live broadcast. Before beginning, she reached into the kit and pulled out the training collar. It clicked securely around her neck, as instructed in the manual, and stayed inactive while the session began. The collar always released automatically at the end of each class, and she had quickly grown used to the ritual.
When the instructor appeared on the screen, her heart gave an odd little flutter. There he was—Master Dominic, as the channel called him. With his commanding presence and piercing gaze, he exuded an aura of authority that made Julia’s cheeks flush. She’d never been one to swoon over men, especially not on TV, but there was something about him… something magnetic.
“Welcome, slaves,” his deep voice resonated through the speakers, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. “Today, we’ll perfect the Servant’s Arch and the Obedient Lotus. Follow along carefully, and remember: your devotion is reflected in your posture.”
Julia tried to ignore the peculiar warmth spreading through her as she mimicked the poses. She felt silly referring to them by their names, so she simply thought of them as yoga poses with a twist. As she moved into the next stretch, she heard a faint sound.
“Julia,” a voice said, low and unmistakably male.
Startled, she froze mid-pose. Her heart raced. “W-who’s there?”
“Relax,” the voice replied smoothly. “It’s me, your instructor.”
Her eyes darted to the TV screen, but Master Dominic was still on it, leading the class as though nothing was amiss.
“No, not the TV,” the voice chuckled. “Look around.”
Julia straightened and glanced nervously at her living room. Then she noticed the faint red lights in the corners of the room. The cameras. They were on.
“Wait, how…?” she stammered, realizing the voice was coming from the speakers embedded in the room.
“I can see you, Julia. Very good form on the Arch. You’ve been practicing.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped, covering herself instinctively even though she wasn’t naked. “This is so creepy! How are you… why are you watching me?”
“You signed up for this,” he said matter-of-factly. “The cameras, the instructor’s oversight—it’s all part of the training kit you ordered. Did you not read the details?”
She gawked at the nearest camera, dumbfounded. “No, I didn’t realize it meant this kind of oversight!”
“Well, now you know.” His tone remained calm and authoritative. “Now, if you’re ready, let’s move into the Obedient Lotus. Knees apart, hands folded, head bowed. And remember: posture is everything.”
Julia’s face burned, but something in his voice compelled her to comply. As she sank into the position, she felt a strange mix of embarrassment and… something else. Something she didn’t quite understand yet.
Over the next month, Julia’s routine continued, but now it included Master Dominic’s direct feedback. “Straighten your back,” he’d say, or “Hold that position longer.” Each correction sent a jolt through her from the collar; part indignation, part… satisfaction? She told herself it was just because she wanted to improve her yoga skills. She faithfully wore the collar for every session, trusting its automatic release at the end of class.
Then, one evening, as she finished a particularly grueling class, Dominic’s voice took on a softer tone. “You’ve made excellent progress, Julia. You’re very dedicated. I’m impressed.”
She felt a small thrill at the praise. “Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, not sure how else to respond.
“You’re welcome. But dedication requires commitment. True commitment.”
Julia blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” he said cryptically. “Check your email tomorrow.”
True to his word, an email arrived the next morning. It was from the Slave Yoga Network, congratulating her on completing her introductory training and inviting her to “elevate her practice” by upgrading her membership. The email detailed the next steps, including the activation of her training collar. Julia stared at the screen, her pulse quickening. “Activate the collar?” she whispered. “What the hell is this?”
There was a link to schedule a live consultation with Dominic. Against her better judgment, she clicked it. Moments later, his face appeared on her laptop screen, smiling warmly.
“Hello, Julia,” he said. “I’m glad you’re ready to take the next step.”
“I’m not sure I am,” she replied, her voice shaking. “I mean, I didn’t realize this was going to get so… intense.”
“Personal growth is always intense,” he said, his tone soothing yet firm. “But you’ve come this far. Don’t you want to see where this journey leads?”
She hesitated, torn between her apprehension and the inexplicable pull she felt toward him—toward this strange, thrilling world she’d stumbled into. Finally, she nodded.
“Good,” Dominic said, his smile deepening. “Let’s begin.” And with that, Julia’s life began to change in ways she never could have imagined.
As soon as he said the words, there was a sharp click from the collar around her neck. Julia flinched at the sound, followed by two sharp pinches on either side of her spine at the base of her neck. She yelped, her hands flying to the collar.
“What was that?” she gasped.
“That,” Dominic said calmly, “was the lock being put on a schedule. The collar will now release only on workdays, Monday through Friday, five minutes before you leave for work. The pain you felt was from two small needles. They are part of the corrective measures system, designed to ensure proper training even when a Master cannot be physically present.”
Julia’s stomach churned. “Corrective measures?”
“Yes,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “The needles induce nerve pain when you disobey or fail to meet expectations. Think of them as your personal instructor. This is Phase One of your advanced training. If you need to leave your apartment outside work hours, you may request the collar be released. Now, let’s move forward. Remove your leotard.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Slaves perform yoga naked,” Dominic explained. “As part of your advanced training, you will remain naked while in your apartment. It fosters vulnerability and discipline.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I—I can’t do that. I’m not comfortable-”
The collar buzzed faintly before a sharp, electrifying pain shot through her neck. Julia cried out, collapsing to her knees. “Comfort is irrelevant,” Dominic said firmly. “You will comply.”
Dominic’s voice shifted to a firmer tone. “And from this point forward, you will refer to me as Master Dominic. Anyone who communicates with you through the controller will be addressed as Master or Mistress. Is that clear?”
Julia nodded hesitantly, her pulse pounding. “Y-yes, Master Dominic.”
Tears stung Julia’s eyes as she struggled to her feet. Trembling, she reached for the neck of her leotard and began to remove it. She hesitated as she slipped it off her shoulders, but the memory of the pain urged her forward. Finally, she stood naked, her arms instinctively moving to cover herself.
Another more intense shock coursed through her body, and she collapsed again, gasping. “Slaves do not cover themselves,” Dominic said, his voice implacable. “Part of your training is learning to accept this.”
Julia whimpered but forced herself to stand, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she stood exposed before the cameras and her instructor.
“Good,” Dominic said approvingly. “You’re learning. Additional cameras will be installed throughout your apartment to monitor your adherence to the training protocols. Now, let’s begin today’s session.”
Julia stood trembling, her skin prickling from the shock as Master Dominic's commanding voice echoed through the speakers. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing as he began issuing instructions for her first naked slave yoga class.
“Let’s start with the Servant’s Arch,” Master Dominic said. “On your knees, hands clasped behind your back, chest pushed forward. Remember, every pose reflects your submission and dedication.”
As Julia positioned herself on the mat for her next yoga class, she noticed something different on the screen. Among the other slaves in the live broadcast, one of the figures looked uncannily familiar. Her movements matched the others at first, but the longer Julia watched, the more convinced she became. That slave looked just like her.
“Master Dominic?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Julia?” His voice came through the speakers, calm but commanding.
“That… that slave in the front row.” She pointed at the screen, her hand trembling. “She looks exactly like me. How is that possible?”
Master Dominic chuckled softly, the sound deep and resonant. “Ah, you’ve noticed. I was wondering how long it would take.”
Julia frowned, her unease growing. “What do you mean?”
“The classroom isn’t real, Julia,” he explained. “It’s a CGI simulation. Every slave you see on that screen is a free woman, just like you, training in her own space.”
Her mind reeled. “But… how?”
“The images are created using the eight cameras installed in your apartment,” he continued his tone matter of fact. “The AI analyzes your movements in real-time and projects them into the virtual classroom. What you’re seeing is a reflection of your own performance. The same is true for the others. Each woman sees herself as one among the many.”
Julia’s heart pounded as she stared at the screen. “So… you’re saying that’s me?”
“Precisely,” Dominic confirmed. “And the AI ensures every detail is accurate, down to your posture and expressions. It’s an advanced system designed to provide an immersive experience. You’re never truly alone in your training.”
She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Seeing her likeness displayed so openly on the screen, performing the same vulnerable poses she’d been practicing, made her skin prickle with self-consciousness.
“But why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s part of your conditioning,” Dominic replied. “To cultivate the mindset and discipline required for advanced training. Now, Julia, focus.”
Julia hesitated, still acutely aware of her nudity, and received a shock from her collar. The humiliation of kneeling naked, her body fully exposed to the cameras, made her chest tighten. But the sting of the collar’s shock lingered, a sharp reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees and clasped her hands behind her back.
“Arch your back more,” Dominic ordered. “Push your chest forward.”
She complied, her muscles trembling as she forced herself into the posture. Her face burned, and she could feel tears threatening to well up, but she refused to let them fall. Master Dominic’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.
“Good. Now hold that position for one minute. Focus on your breathing.”
Julia closed her eyes, trying to block out the shame and focus on the instructions. The seconds felt like hours, but she remained still, determined not to trigger the collar again.
“Excellent,” Dominic said after what felt like an eternity. “Now transition into the Obedient Lotus. Legs crossed, hands on your thighs, and head bowed. Remember, posture is everything.”
Julia unfolded her legs and shifted into the new position, her movements stiff and hesitant. The cameras whirred faintly as they adjusted to capture her every angle. She bowed her head, her hair falling over her face like a curtain, offering a small sense of privacy.
“Julia,” Dominic’s voice snapped. “Move your hair. Your face must remain visible at all times. From now on you will keep your hair in a ponytail during yoga sessions.”
“Yes, Master.” Her stomach sank, but she obeyed, brushing her hair back and twisting it into a messy bun. The vulnerability she felt was overwhelming, but she knew there was no way out. Not now.
As the session continued, each pose seemed designed to strip away more of her resistance. The Submission Stretch required her to lie flat on her stomach with her arms outstretched, her body fully on display. The Offering Pose had her kneel with her hands raised above her head, presenting herself to the cameras.
By the time the session ended, Julia was physically and emotionally drained. Sweat clung to her skin, and her muscles ached from holding the demanding poses. But the most exhausting part was the constant battle with her own mind—the humiliation, the shame, and the strange, confusing thrill she couldn’t quite suppress.
“Very good, Julia,” Master Dominic said as she knelt in the final position, the Supplicant’s Rest. “You’ve shown promise today. Remember, every moment in your apartment is part of your training. You will remain as you are—naked and obedient—until further notice. Dismissed.”
The speakers went silent, but the red lights on the cameras remained on, a stark reminder that she was never truly alone. Julia stayed kneeling for a moment longer, her mind racing. She hated the situation she’d found herself in, yet something deep inside her whispered that this was only the beginning.
Julia rose shakily from the mat, her body trembling as she glanced at the cameras one last time. The tiny red lights glowed steadily, silently reinforcing her lack of privacy. She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, then turned and headed to the bathroom. Her bare feet padded softly against the floor as she tried to shake off the discomfort of being constantly watched.
Standing before the mirror in the bathroom, she caught her reflection. Her flushed face, the sheen of sweat glistening on her body—it all made her pause. She raised her arms slightly as if to cover herself but stopped, Master Dominic's voice echoing in her mind.
Slaves do not cover themselves. ‘But I’m not a slave. I’m a free woman, right? I am still free?’ she thought in response.
Her arms fell back to her sides. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. The hot spray cascaded over her, soothing her aching muscles and washing away the sweat of the session. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax, the tension melting away as steam filled the small room. Her hands moved over her body, scrubbing away the physical reminders of her humiliation, though the mental weight lingered.
After she finished, Julia stepped out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself almost reflexively. She reached for the doorknob but stopped mid-motion, her heart sinking as she remembered the cameras. They can see the door. Her fingers trembled as she unwrapped the towel, placing it carefully in the laundry basket. She straightened her back and walked out of the bathroom, her skin prickling with the cool air.
As she entered the living room, a voice came through the speakers. “Julia, you need to eat something.”
She startled slightly, glancing up at the cameras. “Yes, Master Dominic,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
She moved to the kitchen, searching through the fridge and pantry. “Master,” she said hesitantly, “I don’t have much to fix. I need to run to the store. Will you please release the collar?”
Dominic’s voice returned, calm and authoritative. “Yes. Get dressed. No bra or panties. From now on, you must dress and undress in front of the cameras. This won’t be an issue once the additional cameras are installed. When you’re ready to leave, I will unlock the collar. Put it in your purse and take it with you.”
Julia’s cheeks burned as she processed his instructions. Her stomach tightened at the thought of being monitored even during something as personal as dressing. She walked to her bedroom, glancing at the camera in the corner. The small red light glared at her, unblinking.
Her fingers trembled as she opened her dresser, pulling out a loose t-shirt and jeans. She stood before the dresser for a long moment before returning to the living room, her breath quickening. Just get it over with, she told herself. Slowly, she began dressing, her movements stiff and awkward as the cameras recorded every moment. She fought the instinct to turn her back to the camera or shield herself, fearing the consequences.
Once dressed, she looked at one of the cameras, “Master, I’m ready to leave.”
“Good,” Dominic said. A faint click came from the collar, and she felt it loosen. She removed it and held it in her hand, staring at the unassuming device that had begun to reshape her life.
“Put it in your purse and go,” Dominic instructed. “Be back within an hour.”
“Yes, Master,” Julia replied, slipping the collar into her bag. She grabbed her keys and headed out, feeling the cool air on her skin as she stepped outside. For the first time in weeks, she felt a semblance of freedom—but the weight of the collar in her purse reminded her it was only temporary.
Julia pulled into the grocery store parking lot, her nerves already on edge. She stepped out of the car, the cool breeze brushing against her chest in a way that made her hyperaware of the lack of a bra under her shirt. She tugged at the hem, trying to convince herself that no one would notice.
Inside the store, she moved quickly, determined to get what she needed and leave without drawing attention. She turned down the cereal aisle, focused on her task, when a familiar voice stopped her cold.
“Julia? Is that you?”
She froze, her heart pounding, and slowly turned to see Megan, a coworker who always seemed to have an opinion about everyone. Megan’s sharp eyes flicked over Julia with a curious expression.
“Megan,” Julia said, trying to sound casual, though her voice wavered. “Hi.”
Megan tilted her head, her smile growing sly. “Wow, Julia. You look... different. Relaxed, I’d say.” Her eyes lingered pointedly on Julia’s chest noticing the hard pointy nipples tenting the front of Julia's t-shirt.
Julia’s face flushed with heat. “Oh, um, just casual today. You know, running errands.”
“Casual, huh?” Megan stepped closer, her tone teasing. “You’ve always been so modest at work, but today... it’s like a whole new you. Are you not wearing a bra?”
Megan stepped closer to Julia and grabbed both of Julia’s breasts and kneaded them for a moment before letting her hands slide off and pinching the nipples and pulling on them. Julia’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, her voice catching in her throat. “Megan!” she finally managed, her tone equal parts shock and indignation.
Megan simply laughed; her expression amused. “Relax, Julia. You should embrace this new side of yourself. It suits you.” With that, she gave Julia a wink and sauntered away, leaving Julia frozen in place.
Her heart was racing as she stood there, stunned by Megan’s brazenness. She quickly grabbed the cereal box and hurried through the rest of her shopping, avoiding everyone she passed. By the time she reached the self-checkout, her hands were trembling as she scanned her items.
Back in her car, Julia slumped in the driver’s seat, still reeling from the encounter. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her thoughts racing. Megan’s actions had been shocking, but what unsettled her most was how powerless she had felt in that moment. Shaking her head, she started the car and drove home, desperate for the safety of her apartment.
When Julia returned home, she dropped her grocery bags onto the counter and let out a shaky breath. Her thoughts were still swirling, replaying Megan’s bold actions and the humiliation that had followed. She wanted to forget the entire encounter, but the heat rising in her cheeks refused to fade.
“Julia,” Master Dominic’s voice came through the speakers, calm and steady. “You’re late.”
Julia glanced at the clock. She was still within the one-hour window but had barely made it. “I—sorry, Master,” she stammered. “I got held up.”
“Something’s bothering you,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Tell me what happened.”
Her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to relive the moment, let alone explain it to him, but his command left no room for argument. “I ran into a coworker at the store,” she said hesitantly. “She… noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra. She... made some comments, and then—” Julia paused, her face burning with fresh embarrassment. “She touched me. It was humiliating.”
There was a brief silence before Dominic replied, his voice cool and measured. “I see. You’ll find that reactions like hers are common when others sense your vulnerability. This is part of your training—learning to manage those feelings. But you must remain focused.”
Julia’s jaw tightened. “What does that even mean?” she muttered, more to herself than him.
“It means,” Dominic replied sharply, “that you will strip and replace the collar immediately.”
Her chest tightened, and she looked toward the nearest camera. “What if I refuse?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Then you would be in breach of contract,” Dominic said matter-of-factly. “And you know the consequences of defaulting.”
Her stomach dropped. She didn’t need him to elaborate; the threat of enslavement loomed large in her mind. Reluctantly, she reached into her purse and pulled out the collar. The weight of it in her hands felt heavier than ever.
With a deep breath, she placed it around her neck, feeling the familiar click as it locked into place. The needles slid into her skin, and she winced at the faint prick of pain.
“Good,” Dominic said. “Now, strip. From now on you are to strip the moment you enter your apartment without being told.”
"Yes, Master." Julia swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and kicked off her shoes. She folded the shirt neatly before unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them off, her face burning with shame as she stood naked once more. She clutched her clothes tightly and walked them to her bedroom, feeling the ever-watchful eyes of the cameras on her.
Returning to the kitchen, she began unpacking her groceries, lining them up on the counter. As she worked, she tried to focus on what she needed to prepare for dinner: something simple, something quick. Her hands moved almost mechanically as she placed items in their respective spots.
When she finally settled on a meal, the motions of chopping and stirring gave her a brief reprieve from the storm of emotions swirling inside her. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the task at hand, the weight of the collar and the cameras' unblinking gaze reminded her she was never truly alone.
As she placed the food on the stove to cook, she caught her reflection in the glossy surface of the microwave. Her bare body was a stark reminder of how much her life had changed—and how much control she had lost. Julia sighed, determined not to let her thoughts spiral any further. For now, all she could do was obey and endure.
After finishing dinner, Julia cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the counter, her movements automatic as her mind wandered. The events of the day weighed heavily on her, and she was grateful for the brief respite from mundane chores. But as she turned to leave the kitchen, Master Dominic’s voice echoed through the speakers, halting her in her tracks.
“Julia.”
“Yes, Master Dominic?” she replied, her tone submissive but wary.
“There are new rules regarding your clothing.”
Julia froze, her heart sinking. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what was coming.
“You are no longer permitted to wear pants or shorts,” Dominic said firmly. “From this point forward, you will only wear skirts or dresses.”
Her mouth went dry, and she struggled to find her voice. “But—”
“No objections, Julia,” he interrupted. “This is non-negotiable. Additionally, you are to dispose of all your underwear: bras, panties, camisoles, and any similar items. Toss them in the trash tonight. Your pants and shorts will be bagged for donation.”
Julia’s head spun. “All of my underwear?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Dominic confirmed. “You will no longer require them.”
Her chest tightened, and she fought back a wave of indignation and embarrassment. It was bad enough to be naked in her own home, but now even the small comfort of proper clothing was being stripped away.
“Do it now,” Dominic ordered. “You may use a trash bag for the underwear and another for the pants and shorts. Place the bags by the door for disposal.”
Reluctantly, Julia made her way to her bedroom, her stomach churning as she opened her dresser. She stared at the neatly folded bras and panties for a long moment, her mind racing. Each piece felt like a little piece of her normalcy—one more thing she was losing to this strange, all-encompassing training.
With trembling hands, she began gathering the items and tossing them into the trash bag as instructed. The action felt surreal, as though she were watching herself from outside her body. Once the dresser drawers were empty, she moved to her closet, pulling out her pants and shorts. She folded them neatly, even as a small voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop. Each garment went into a second bag, which she tied shut with a heavy sigh.
She returned to the living room, her steps slow and deliberate, and placed the bags by the door. “It’s done, Master Dominic,” she said softly, her voice tinged with resignation.
“Good,” Dominic replied. “You’re making progress, Julia. Remember, everything you do is part of your training. Now, take some time to reflect on today’s lessons. You may go to bed when you’re ready.”
Julia nodded, though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to. As she sat on the edge of her couch, staring at the two bags by the door, a sense of finality settled over her. She felt like she was watching pieces of her old life slip away, one by one, and she didn’t know how much of herself would be left by the end of this journey.
Julia lay in bed; the sheets cool against her bare skin. The weight of the collar around her neck was a constant reminder of how drastically her life had changed in such a short time.
She sighed, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts were a storm of confusion, frustration, and a flicker of curiosity that she couldn’t shake. What had she really signed up for? Something about the way Master Dominic spoke, about the rules being imposed on her, didn’t sit right. This can’t just be about yoga. There has to be more to it.
Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she pulled up the slave yoga website. Logging in, she navigated to the contract section, her pulse quickening as she opened the agreement she had signed. The document loaded slowly, the glowing screen illuminating her furrowed brow as she began to read.
At first, it seemed straightforward. There were clauses about training protocols, payment schedules, and compliance with the company’s guidelines. But as she scrolled further, the language became more alarming. Words like submission, property, and ownership jumped out at her, making her stomach churn.
Then she saw it—a section titled Comprehensive Training and Ownership Preparation. Her heart raced as she read the details. The contract wasn’t just about slave yoga. It was about preparing her for actual enslavement.
“Participants in this program are consenting to comprehensive training for potential future servitude. Upon successful completion of the program, participants who retain their free status will be granted full emancipation from training obligations. Participants who fail to retain a free mind will face two possible outcomes: voluntary request for enslavement or default, triggering immediate collateral enslavement as per the terms of this agreement.”
Julia sat up, her hands trembling. “Collateral enslavement?” she whispered. She scrolled further, her eyes scanning frantically until she found the explanation.
“As outlined under Clause 18.3, participants agree that failure to fulfill the conditions of the contract or defaulting on payment will result in involuntary servitude. Participants waive their rights under the 34th Amendment by consenting to this clause at the time of signing.”
She felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “I signed this?” she murmured, her voice shaking. The enormity of her mistake pressed down on her, but as her panic rose, she noticed another section—Safe Exit Clause.
Her eyes darted over the text. “Participants who retain their free mind for the duration of the program will maintain their free status and all rights protected under the 34th Amendment. Training compliance and behavioral conditioning are mandatory, but mental submission is voluntary. Participants who complete the program without relinquishing their autonomy will be granted full emancipation and are entitled to all previously held assets.”
Julia read the clause twice, her heart pounding. There was a way out. But it would mean enduring four years of this—of the rules, the humiliation, the control. She would have to comply physically while holding onto her sense of self, resisting the mental submission the program was designed to enforce.
Her mind raced with questions. Could she do it? Did she even have a choice? If she defaulted, she’d lose everything—her freedom, her life, her identity. But if she stayed strong, she might just make it out of this nightmare intact.
She set the phone down, her chest heaving as she stared into the darkness. The collar pressed against her neck like a vice, but she gritted her teeth, determination flickering in the back of her mind. Four years. Just four years. I can do this.
Julia lay back down, pulling the blanket over her legs. As her mind replayed everything she’d just read, one thought echoed louder than the rest: Don’t lose yourself. Don’t let them win.
Unintentional Enslavement Part 1
By
Fixitman8267
Julia Martin, 27, never considered herself to be naïve or impulsive even though she was frequently told she was by her friends and coworkers. Julia had been taking yoga classes for several years before the new slavery laws were enacted.
Call it what you will, denial or resistance, Julia finally gave in and decided to explore Slave TV. As luck would have it, the first time Julia tuned to the channel it was showing a live slave yoga class. Julia was enraptured by the sight of the 24 naked girls performing the slave poses and chanting the slave mantras.
While she jumped each time a slave was struck by the instructor’s (Master’s) whip, she couldn’t believe how wet her pussy was. Julia wasn’t a lesbian and wasn’t even remotely turned on by other women, so she couldn’t explain why she was so turned on.
Every day after work, Julia would tune in to the live broadcast of the beginner slave yoga class. After a few weeks, Julia thought she had memorized the poses and decided to follow along. After work, she stripped off her work clothes and donned her yoga outfit. Julia was shy and couldn’t bring herself to be naked even in her own apartment.
She rolled out her yoga mat in front of the TV and waited the few minutes for the live broadcast to begin. Unaware that the slave network had a way to track who watched slave TV and what they watched, Julia began to receive ads in her email advertising training materials for slave yoga kits for home use.
Little did she know that these training kits were a gateway to enslavement, so in her ignorance, she ordered the kit. Julia skimmed through the website to see what she would be getting. It listed a training collar, mat, and cameras to monitor the ‘person in training.’ ‘Person in training?’ Julia thought. ‘I’ve been doing regular yoga for years but the slave yoga is totally different poses, so I guess I am back in training again.’
Julia scrolled to the section about the cameras to find out why more than one was needed. According to the site, eight cameras were required to ensure the instructor could see the student from all angles. Front, rear, left, right, and in each corner. A dedicated room was recommended but any room with a TV and plenty of room with no furniture to block the cameras was acceptable.
Julia lived in a one-bedroom apartment and only had a TV in her living room. Julia was pleased to see that professional installation was part of the package. Because the cameras were 4k UHD the kit was more expensive than Julia could afford. Luckily, the company offered a payment plan that Julia selected. Julia could select 12, 24, or 48 payments. She chose the 48 payments as it offered the lowest payment at 0% interest. What Julia missed was the consequences for defaulting on the loan—immediate enslavement.
After ordering the kit, Julia put on her yoga leotard, laid out her mat, and tuned into the yoga class she has been remotely attending for several months; including when she was just watching.
A few days later, Julia received an email letting her know that the installers would deliver her kit, and she was instructed to leave her apartment key on the door trim above her door. While she was at work, the cameras and the controller would be installed, allowing the instructor to see her while she followed along with the class. The controller also contained a microphone and speakers. The following morning Julia did as instructed as she left for work.
________________________________________
Julia returned home after a long day at work, her excitement about the impending arrival of her yoga kit mingled with a trace of nervousness. She opened her apartment door and noticed everything looked normal. “Huh,” she muttered, glancing around. “That’s weird. I thought they’d leave a note or something.”
Shrugging it off, she changed into her yoga outfit—a fitted leotard that, while modest, hugged her figure a little more snugly than she’d care to admit. She rolled out her mat in front of the TV, just as she’d done countless times, and tuned into the live broadcast. Before beginning, she reached into the kit and pulled out the training collar. It clicked securely around her neck, as instructed in the manual, and stayed inactive while the session began. The collar always released automatically at the end of each class, and she had quickly grown used to the ritual.
When the instructor appeared on the screen, her heart gave an odd little flutter. There he was—Master Dominic, as the channel called him. With his commanding presence and piercing gaze, he exuded an aura of authority that made Julia’s cheeks flush. She’d never been one to swoon over men, especially not on TV, but there was something about him… something magnetic.
“Welcome, slaves,” his deep voice resonated through the speakers, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. “Today, we’ll perfect the Servant’s Arch and the Obedient Lotus. Follow along carefully, and remember: your devotion is reflected in your posture.”
Julia tried to ignore the peculiar warmth spreading through her as she mimicked the poses. She felt silly referring to them by their names, so she simply thought of them as yoga poses with a twist. As she moved into the next stretch, she heard a faint sound.
“Julia,” a voice said, low and unmistakably male.
Startled, she froze mid-pose. Her heart raced. “W-who’s there?”
“Relax,” the voice replied smoothly. “It’s me, your instructor.”
Her eyes darted to the TV screen, but Master Dominic was still on it, leading the class as though nothing was amiss.
“No, not the TV,” the voice chuckled. “Look around.”
Julia straightened and glanced nervously at her living room. Then she noticed the faint red lights in the corners of the room. The cameras. They were on.
“Wait, how…?” she stammered, realizing the voice was coming from the speakers embedded in the room.
“I can see you, Julia. Very good form on the Arch. You’ve been practicing.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped, covering herself instinctively even though she wasn’t naked. “This is so creepy! How are you… why are you watching me?”
“You signed up for this,” he said matter-of-factly. “The cameras, the instructor’s oversight—it’s all part of the training kit you ordered. Did you not read the details?”
She gawked at the nearest camera, dumbfounded. “No, I didn’t realize it meant this kind of oversight!”
“Well, now you know.” His tone remained calm and authoritative. “Now, if you’re ready, let’s move into the Obedient Lotus. Knees apart, hands folded, head bowed. And remember: posture is everything.”
Julia’s face burned, but something in his voice compelled her to comply. As she sank into the position, she felt a strange mix of embarrassment and… something else. Something she didn’t quite understand yet.
Over the next month, Julia’s routine continued, but now it included Master Dominic’s direct feedback. “Straighten your back,” he’d say, or “Hold that position longer.” Each correction sent a jolt through her from the collar; part indignation, part… satisfaction? She told herself it was just because she wanted to improve her yoga skills. She faithfully wore the collar for every session, trusting its automatic release at the end of class.
Then, one evening, as she finished a particularly grueling class, Dominic’s voice took on a softer tone. “You’ve made excellent progress, Julia. You’re very dedicated. I’m impressed.”
She felt a small thrill at the praise. “Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, not sure how else to respond.
“You’re welcome. But dedication requires commitment. True commitment.”
Julia blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” he said cryptically. “Check your email tomorrow.”
True to his word, an email arrived the next morning. It was from the Slave Yoga Network, congratulating her on completing her introductory training and inviting her to “elevate her practice” by upgrading her membership. The email detailed the next steps, including the activation of her training collar. Julia stared at the screen, her pulse quickening. “Activate the collar?” she whispered. “What the hell is this?”
There was a link to schedule a live consultation with Dominic. Against her better judgment, she clicked it. Moments later, his face appeared on her laptop screen, smiling warmly.
“Hello, Julia,” he said. “I’m glad you’re ready to take the next step.”
“I’m not sure I am,” she replied, her voice shaking. “I mean, I didn’t realize this was going to get so… intense.”
“Personal growth is always intense,” he said, his tone soothing yet firm. “But you’ve come this far. Don’t you want to see where this journey leads?”
She hesitated, torn between her apprehension and the inexplicable pull she felt toward him—toward this strange, thrilling world she’d stumbled into. Finally, she nodded.
“Good,” Dominic said, his smile deepening. “Let’s begin.” And with that, Julia’s life began to change in ways she never could have imagined.
As soon as he said the words, there was a sharp click from the collar around her neck. Julia flinched at the sound, followed by two sharp pinches on either side of her spine at the base of her neck. She yelped, her hands flying to the collar.
“What was that?” she gasped.
“That,” Dominic said calmly, “was the lock being put on a schedule. The collar will now release only on workdays, Monday through Friday, five minutes before you leave for work. The pain you felt was from two small needles. They are part of the corrective measures system, designed to ensure proper training even when a Master cannot be physically present.”
Julia’s stomach churned. “Corrective measures?”
“Yes,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “The needles induce nerve pain when you disobey or fail to meet expectations. Think of them as your personal instructor. This is Phase One of your advanced training. If you need to leave your apartment outside work hours, you may request the collar be released. Now, let’s move forward. Remove your leotard.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Slaves perform yoga naked,” Dominic explained. “As part of your advanced training, you will remain naked while in your apartment. It fosters vulnerability and discipline.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I—I can’t do that. I’m not comfortable-”
The collar buzzed faintly before a sharp, electrifying pain shot through her neck. Julia cried out, collapsing to her knees. “Comfort is irrelevant,” Dominic said firmly. “You will comply.”
Dominic’s voice shifted to a firmer tone. “And from this point forward, you will refer to me as Master Dominic. Anyone who communicates with you through the controller will be addressed as Master or Mistress. Is that clear?”
Julia nodded hesitantly, her pulse pounding. “Y-yes, Master Dominic.”
Tears stung Julia’s eyes as she struggled to her feet. Trembling, she reached for the neck of her leotard and began to remove it. She hesitated as she slipped it off her shoulders, but the memory of the pain urged her forward. Finally, she stood naked, her arms instinctively moving to cover herself.
Another more intense shock coursed through her body, and she collapsed again, gasping. “Slaves do not cover themselves,” Dominic said, his voice implacable. “Part of your training is learning to accept this.”
Julia whimpered but forced herself to stand, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she stood exposed before the cameras and her instructor.
“Good,” Dominic said approvingly. “You’re learning. Additional cameras will be installed throughout your apartment to monitor your adherence to the training protocols. Now, let’s begin today’s session.”
Julia stood trembling, her skin prickling from the shock as Master Dominic's commanding voice echoed through the speakers. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing as he began issuing instructions for her first naked slave yoga class.
“Let’s start with the Servant’s Arch,” Master Dominic said. “On your knees, hands clasped behind your back, chest pushed forward. Remember, every pose reflects your submission and dedication.”
As Julia positioned herself on the mat for her next yoga class, she noticed something different on the screen. Among the other slaves in the live broadcast, one of the figures looked uncannily familiar. Her movements matched the others at first, but the longer Julia watched, the more convinced she became. That slave looked just like her.
“Master Dominic?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Julia?” His voice came through the speakers, calm but commanding.
“That… that slave in the front row.” She pointed at the screen, her hand trembling. “She looks exactly like me. How is that possible?”
Master Dominic chuckled softly, the sound deep and resonant. “Ah, you’ve noticed. I was wondering how long it would take.”
Julia frowned, her unease growing. “What do you mean?”
“The classroom isn’t real, Julia,” he explained. “It’s a CGI simulation. Every slave you see on that screen is a free woman, just like you, training in her own space.”
Her mind reeled. “But… how?”
“The images are created using the eight cameras installed in your apartment,” he continued his tone matter of fact. “The AI analyzes your movements in real-time and projects them into the virtual classroom. What you’re seeing is a reflection of your own performance. The same is true for the others. Each woman sees herself as one among the many.”
Julia’s heart pounded as she stared at the screen. “So… you’re saying that’s me?”
“Precisely,” Dominic confirmed. “And the AI ensures every detail is accurate, down to your posture and expressions. It’s an advanced system designed to provide an immersive experience. You’re never truly alone in your training.”
She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Seeing her likeness displayed so openly on the screen, performing the same vulnerable poses she’d been practicing, made her skin prickle with self-consciousness.
“But why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s part of your conditioning,” Dominic replied. “To cultivate the mindset and discipline required for advanced training. Now, Julia, focus.”
Julia hesitated, still acutely aware of her nudity, and received a shock from her collar. The humiliation of kneeling naked, her body fully exposed to the cameras, made her chest tighten. But the sting of the collar’s shock lingered, a sharp reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees and clasped her hands behind her back.
“Arch your back more,” Dominic ordered. “Push your chest forward.”
She complied, her muscles trembling as she forced herself into the posture. Her face burned, and she could feel tears threatening to well up, but she refused to let them fall. Master Dominic’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.
“Good. Now hold that position for one minute. Focus on your breathing.”
Julia closed her eyes, trying to block out the shame and focus on the instructions. The seconds felt like hours, but she remained still, determined not to trigger the collar again.
“Excellent,” Dominic said after what felt like an eternity. “Now transition into the Obedient Lotus. Legs crossed, hands on your thighs, and head bowed. Remember, posture is everything.”
Julia unfolded her legs and shifted into the new position, her movements stiff and hesitant. The cameras whirred faintly as they adjusted to capture her every angle. She bowed her head, her hair falling over her face like a curtain, offering a small sense of privacy.
“Julia,” Dominic’s voice snapped. “Move your hair. Your face must remain visible at all times. From now on you will keep your hair in a ponytail during yoga sessions.”
“Yes, Master.” Her stomach sank, but she obeyed, brushing her hair back and twisting it into a messy bun. The vulnerability she felt was overwhelming, but she knew there was no way out. Not now.
As the session continued, each pose seemed designed to strip away more of her resistance. The Submission Stretch required her to lie flat on her stomach with her arms outstretched, her body fully on display. The Offering Pose had her kneel with her hands raised above her head, presenting herself to the cameras.
By the time the session ended, Julia was physically and emotionally drained. Sweat clung to her skin, and her muscles ached from holding the demanding poses. But the most exhausting part was the constant battle with her own mind—the humiliation, the shame, and the strange, confusing thrill she couldn’t quite suppress.
“Very good, Julia,” Master Dominic said as she knelt in the final position, the Supplicant’s Rest. “You’ve shown promise today. Remember, every moment in your apartment is part of your training. You will remain as you are—naked and obedient—until further notice. Dismissed.”
The speakers went silent, but the red lights on the cameras remained on, a stark reminder that she was never truly alone. Julia stayed kneeling for a moment longer, her mind racing. She hated the situation she’d found herself in, yet something deep inside her whispered that this was only the beginning.
Julia rose shakily from the mat, her body trembling as she glanced at the cameras one last time. The tiny red lights glowed steadily, silently reinforcing her lack of privacy. She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, then turned and headed to the bathroom. Her bare feet padded softly against the floor as she tried to shake off the discomfort of being constantly watched.
Standing before the mirror in the bathroom, she caught her reflection. Her flushed face, the sheen of sweat glistening on her body—it all made her pause. She raised her arms slightly as if to cover herself but stopped, Master Dominic's voice echoing in her mind.
Slaves do not cover themselves. ‘But I’m not a slave. I’m a free woman, right? I am still free?’ she thought in response.
Her arms fell back to her sides. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. The hot spray cascaded over her, soothing her aching muscles and washing away the sweat of the session. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax, the tension melting away as steam filled the small room. Her hands moved over her body, scrubbing away the physical reminders of her humiliation, though the mental weight lingered.
After she finished, Julia stepped out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself almost reflexively. She reached for the doorknob but stopped mid-motion, her heart sinking as she remembered the cameras. They can see the door. Her fingers trembled as she unwrapped the towel, placing it carefully in the laundry basket. She straightened her back and walked out of the bathroom, her skin prickling with the cool air.
As she entered the living room, a voice came through the speakers. “Julia, you need to eat something.”
She startled slightly, glancing up at the cameras. “Yes, Master Dominic,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
She moved to the kitchen, searching through the fridge and pantry. “Master,” she said hesitantly, “I don’t have much to fix. I need to run to the store. Will you please release the collar?”
Dominic’s voice returned, calm and authoritative. “Yes. Get dressed. No bra or panties. From now on, you must dress and undress in front of the cameras. This won’t be an issue once the additional cameras are installed. When you’re ready to leave, I will unlock the collar. Put it in your purse and take it with you.”
Julia’s cheeks burned as she processed his instructions. Her stomach tightened at the thought of being monitored even during something as personal as dressing. She walked to her bedroom, glancing at the camera in the corner. The small red light glared at her, unblinking.
Her fingers trembled as she opened her dresser, pulling out a loose t-shirt and jeans. She stood before the dresser for a long moment before returning to the living room, her breath quickening. Just get it over with, she told herself. Slowly, she began dressing, her movements stiff and awkward as the cameras recorded every moment. She fought the instinct to turn her back to the camera or shield herself, fearing the consequences.
Once dressed, she looked at one of the cameras, “Master, I’m ready to leave.”
“Good,” Dominic said. A faint click came from the collar, and she felt it loosen. She removed it and held it in her hand, staring at the unassuming device that had begun to reshape her life.
“Put it in your purse and go,” Dominic instructed. “Be back within an hour.”
“Yes, Master,” Julia replied, slipping the collar into her bag. She grabbed her keys and headed out, feeling the cool air on her skin as she stepped outside. For the first time in weeks, she felt a semblance of freedom—but the weight of the collar in her purse reminded her it was only temporary.
Julia pulled into the grocery store parking lot, her nerves already on edge. She stepped out of the car, the cool breeze brushing against her chest in a way that made her hyperaware of the lack of a bra under her shirt. She tugged at the hem, trying to convince herself that no one would notice.
Inside the store, she moved quickly, determined to get what she needed and leave without drawing attention. She turned down the cereal aisle, focused on her task, when a familiar voice stopped her cold.
“Julia? Is that you?”
She froze, her heart pounding, and slowly turned to see Megan, a coworker who always seemed to have an opinion about everyone. Megan’s sharp eyes flicked over Julia with a curious expression.
“Megan,” Julia said, trying to sound casual, though her voice wavered. “Hi.”
Megan tilted her head, her smile growing sly. “Wow, Julia. You look... different. Relaxed, I’d say.” Her eyes lingered pointedly on Julia’s chest noticing the hard pointy nipples tenting the front of Julia's t-shirt.
Julia’s face flushed with heat. “Oh, um, just casual today. You know, running errands.”
“Casual, huh?” Megan stepped closer, her tone teasing. “You’ve always been so modest at work, but today... it’s like a whole new you. Are you not wearing a bra?”
Megan stepped closer to Julia and grabbed both of Julia’s breasts and kneaded them for a moment before letting her hands slide off and pinching the nipples and pulling on them. Julia’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, her voice catching in her throat. “Megan!” she finally managed, her tone equal parts shock and indignation.
Megan simply laughed; her expression amused. “Relax, Julia. You should embrace this new side of yourself. It suits you.” With that, she gave Julia a wink and sauntered away, leaving Julia frozen in place.
Her heart was racing as she stood there, stunned by Megan’s brazenness. She quickly grabbed the cereal box and hurried through the rest of her shopping, avoiding everyone she passed. By the time she reached the self-checkout, her hands were trembling as she scanned her items.
Back in her car, Julia slumped in the driver’s seat, still reeling from the encounter. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her thoughts racing. Megan’s actions had been shocking, but what unsettled her most was how powerless she had felt in that moment. Shaking her head, she started the car and drove home, desperate for the safety of her apartment.
When Julia returned home, she dropped her grocery bags onto the counter and let out a shaky breath. Her thoughts were still swirling, replaying Megan’s bold actions and the humiliation that had followed. She wanted to forget the entire encounter, but the heat rising in her cheeks refused to fade.
“Julia,” Master Dominic’s voice came through the speakers, calm and steady. “You’re late.”
Julia glanced at the clock. She was still within the one-hour window but had barely made it. “I—sorry, Master,” she stammered. “I got held up.”
“Something’s bothering you,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Tell me what happened.”
Her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to relive the moment, let alone explain it to him, but his command left no room for argument. “I ran into a coworker at the store,” she said hesitantly. “She… noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra. She... made some comments, and then—” Julia paused, her face burning with fresh embarrassment. “She touched me. It was humiliating.”
There was a brief silence before Dominic replied, his voice cool and measured. “I see. You’ll find that reactions like hers are common when others sense your vulnerability. This is part of your training—learning to manage those feelings. But you must remain focused.”
Julia’s jaw tightened. “What does that even mean?” she muttered, more to herself than him.
“It means,” Dominic replied sharply, “that you will strip and replace the collar immediately.”
Her chest tightened, and she looked toward the nearest camera. “What if I refuse?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Then you would be in breach of contract,” Dominic said matter-of-factly. “And you know the consequences of defaulting.”
Her stomach dropped. She didn’t need him to elaborate; the threat of enslavement loomed large in her mind. Reluctantly, she reached into her purse and pulled out the collar. The weight of it in her hands felt heavier than ever.
With a deep breath, she placed it around her neck, feeling the familiar click as it locked into place. The needles slid into her skin, and she winced at the faint prick of pain.
“Good,” Dominic said. “Now, strip. From now on you are to strip the moment you enter your apartment without being told.”
"Yes, Master." Julia swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and kicked off her shoes. She folded the shirt neatly before unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them off, her face burning with shame as she stood naked once more. She clutched her clothes tightly and walked them to her bedroom, feeling the ever-watchful eyes of the cameras on her.
Returning to the kitchen, she began unpacking her groceries, lining them up on the counter. As she worked, she tried to focus on what she needed to prepare for dinner: something simple, something quick. Her hands moved almost mechanically as she placed items in their respective spots.
When she finally settled on a meal, the motions of chopping and stirring gave her a brief reprieve from the storm of emotions swirling inside her. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the task at hand, the weight of the collar and the cameras' unblinking gaze reminded her she was never truly alone.
As she placed the food on the stove to cook, she caught her reflection in the glossy surface of the microwave. Her bare body was a stark reminder of how much her life had changed—and how much control she had lost. Julia sighed, determined not to let her thoughts spiral any further. For now, all she could do was obey and endure.
After finishing dinner, Julia cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the counter, her movements automatic as her mind wandered. The events of the day weighed heavily on her, and she was grateful for the brief respite from mundane chores. But as she turned to leave the kitchen, Master Dominic’s voice echoed through the speakers, halting her in her tracks.
“Julia.”
“Yes, Master Dominic?” she replied, her tone submissive but wary.
“There are new rules regarding your clothing.”
Julia froze, her heart sinking. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what was coming.
“You are no longer permitted to wear pants or shorts,” Dominic said firmly. “From this point forward, you will only wear skirts or dresses.”
Her mouth went dry, and she struggled to find her voice. “But—”
“No objections, Julia,” he interrupted. “This is non-negotiable. Additionally, you are to dispose of all your underwear: bras, panties, camisoles, and any similar items. Toss them in the trash tonight. Your pants and shorts will be bagged for donation.”
Julia’s head spun. “All of my underwear?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Dominic confirmed. “You will no longer require them.”
Her chest tightened, and she fought back a wave of indignation and embarrassment. It was bad enough to be naked in her own home, but now even the small comfort of proper clothing was being stripped away.
“Do it now,” Dominic ordered. “You may use a trash bag for the underwear and another for the pants and shorts. Place the bags by the door for disposal.”
Reluctantly, Julia made her way to her bedroom, her stomach churning as she opened her dresser. She stared at the neatly folded bras and panties for a long moment, her mind racing. Each piece felt like a little piece of her normalcy—one more thing she was losing to this strange, all-encompassing training.
With trembling hands, she began gathering the items and tossing them into the trash bag as instructed. The action felt surreal, as though she were watching herself from outside her body. Once the dresser drawers were empty, she moved to her closet, pulling out her pants and shorts. She folded them neatly, even as a small voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to stop. Each garment went into a second bag, which she tied shut with a heavy sigh.
She returned to the living room, her steps slow and deliberate, and placed the bags by the door. “It’s done, Master Dominic,” she said softly, her voice tinged with resignation.
“Good,” Dominic replied. “You’re making progress, Julia. Remember, everything you do is part of your training. Now, take some time to reflect on today’s lessons. You may go to bed when you’re ready.”
Julia nodded, though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to. As she sat on the edge of her couch, staring at the two bags by the door, a sense of finality settled over her. She felt like she was watching pieces of her old life slip away, one by one, and she didn’t know how much of herself would be left by the end of this journey.
Julia lay in bed; the sheets cool against her bare skin. The weight of the collar around her neck was a constant reminder of how drastically her life had changed in such a short time.
She sighed, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts were a storm of confusion, frustration, and a flicker of curiosity that she couldn’t shake. What had she really signed up for? Something about the way Master Dominic spoke, about the rules being imposed on her, didn’t sit right. This can’t just be about yoga. There has to be more to it.
Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she pulled up the slave yoga website. Logging in, she navigated to the contract section, her pulse quickening as she opened the agreement she had signed. The document loaded slowly, the glowing screen illuminating her furrowed brow as she began to read.
At first, it seemed straightforward. There were clauses about training protocols, payment schedules, and compliance with the company’s guidelines. But as she scrolled further, the language became more alarming. Words like submission, property, and ownership jumped out at her, making her stomach churn.
Then she saw it—a section titled Comprehensive Training and Ownership Preparation. Her heart raced as she read the details. The contract wasn’t just about slave yoga. It was about preparing her for actual enslavement.
“Participants in this program are consenting to comprehensive training for potential future servitude. Upon successful completion of the program, participants who retain their free status will be granted full emancipation from training obligations. Participants who fail to retain a free mind will face two possible outcomes: voluntary request for enslavement or default, triggering immediate collateral enslavement as per the terms of this agreement.”
Julia sat up, her hands trembling. “Collateral enslavement?” she whispered. She scrolled further, her eyes scanning frantically until she found the explanation.
“As outlined under Clause 18.3, participants agree that failure to fulfill the conditions of the contract or defaulting on payment will result in involuntary servitude. Participants waive their rights under the 34th Amendment by consenting to this clause at the time of signing.”
She felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “I signed this?” she murmured, her voice shaking. The enormity of her mistake pressed down on her, but as her panic rose, she noticed another section—Safe Exit Clause.
Her eyes darted over the text. “Participants who retain their free mind for the duration of the program will maintain their free status and all rights protected under the 34th Amendment. Training compliance and behavioral conditioning are mandatory, but mental submission is voluntary. Participants who complete the program without relinquishing their autonomy will be granted full emancipation and are entitled to all previously held assets.”
Julia read the clause twice, her heart pounding. There was a way out. But it would mean enduring four years of this—of the rules, the humiliation, the control. She would have to comply physically while holding onto her sense of self, resisting the mental submission the program was designed to enforce.
Her mind raced with questions. Could she do it? Did she even have a choice? If she defaulted, she’d lose everything—her freedom, her life, her identity. But if she stayed strong, she might just make it out of this nightmare intact.
She set the phone down, her chest heaving as she stared into the darkness. The collar pressed against her neck like a vice, but she gritted her teeth, determination flickering in the back of her mind. Four years. Just four years. I can do this.
Julia lay back down, pulling the blanket over her legs. As her mind replayed everything she’d just read, one thought echoed louder than the rest: Don’t lose yourself. Don’t let them win.
