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“A School for Tourists" - Chapter 01, Aunt Amy by LoyalHound
Yes, I’m still working on chapter 7 of The Cost of My Dreams, and I hope to get it out by the end of the month, but I refuse to rush it. In the meantime, this story started as an exercise intended to improve my dialog and character interactions and took on a life of its own. For better or worse, it’s another story in the 34th Amendment universe

This is a work of Erotic Fantasy. As such, it is not real and does not depict real events or any real person. All characters, businesses, institutions, places, publications, and events in this story are either fictional or are used fictitiously as you might expect in a story where slavery is legally enforced throughout the modern United States. All characters are adults.

Minor edits 2025-02-06@0200 UTC to fix a continuity and technology error and some omitted words.
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"Yes, of course, I'll take you for your slave grading for your student loan. And pay for it, but there's more to this than just the grading," said my aunt. "If you sign up for a reversible auction, for instance, you'll have an actual certified bid you can show your lender. Of course, you'd need a block routine to get a good price."

I shuddered a little. Me on the block with no friends, no family, just slave meat for purchase and use. Aunt Amy was right though: An actual certified bid could help a lot.

"I don't have a block routine," I admitted. "My frenemy Shirley bragged about her parents getting her one-on-one remote learning time with a slave mistress to develop a routine. She says she's even thinking about some slave training to boost her grade. Well, she says she's thinking about it. I'm pretty sure her parents are kind of insisting."

Aunt Amy smiled and sipped her coffee. "They probably are. You're not your daddy's little princess when you're on the block and, from what you said about her, she'll probably benefit from a little attitude adjustment, quite apart from her slave grading. But rather than trying to develop a block routine remotely, have you ever heard of the Frostburg Slave Academy?"

"That's where Shirley said her parents would send her!" I exclaimed. "It's supposed to be a good school. Their website has a lot of endorsements."

Aunt Amy snorted, "Everyone has endorsements, Kira. Didn't they teach you about that in your smart consumer course?"

I squirmed a little and nodded, embarrassed. Yes, I knew that, but I hadn't connected it to real life.

She sounded more enthusiastic as she said, "It's a school for tourists rather than real slaves, but that's exactly what you need. You only want to improve your slave grade, not start life as a pleasure slave. You check into the market where you want to be graded, they'll ship you off to the academy and grade you after you're shipped back. It's totally immersive so you'll get the best grade possible."

"Shirly mentioned they have different options; she was talking about the deluxe two-week course, but said her parents suggested the three-week ultimate course."

"The two-week course is a good value, but I have to ask," said Aunt Amy, looking embarrassed, "are you a virgin? Only their basic one-week course is for virgins. That's advanced slave yoga, obedience training, enforced slave speak, service roleplaying, that sort of thing. You'd develop a block routine, of course, but their two-week course would really improve your price and it doesn't involve any actual sex, just penetrative training using dildos and similar things." She smiled as she said, "You'd even get basic ponygirl training. A lot of my friends pay good money for that and they don't even need a slave grade."

This was all moving so fast. I shook my head. "Aunt Amy, you know I'm not a virgin, but even the basic course sounds, well, like a lot. I'm grateful, of course, but I don't want to be treated like slave meat."

She touched my hand and said gently, "Kira, that's a problem that will hurt your grade and your auction price. That's another thing the two-week course will help you with. When you're being graded, you absolutely do want to be treated like slave meat. You need to revel in it. That's how you get the best grade, the best price, and the best loan terms."

Revel in it? I couldn't wrap my mind around that, but my aunt knew what she was talking about. She'd worked at a pony girl farm when she was at university and her husband was a master wrangler.

"Isn't that place rather expensive?" I asked. "Like, more than a year's worth of off-campus tuition at the state university?"

"Their ultimate course is, but I'm willing to pay it to see you get the best grade. You're wondering why I don't just pay for your school, aren't you?" she asked, a serious look on her face.

"Ah...", I said, groping for words.

"Because it would be too easy for you. None of us value what comes to us too easily and I remember university. Nothing will so focus your mind on your studies as the knowledge that, if you fail out, you could end up in the collar right there and then, just as soon as your lender forecloses."

I shuddered. My aunt meant what she said. She loved me and doted on me, but if I messed up school, she was not going to rescue me.

I thought of the cops coming for me after the lender foreclosed, like on those live-action police shows. I'd be in the middle of a shopping mall, say, and they would order "Backhands!" and then secure my hands behind me. They'd ID me and hold me still while they cut my clothes off as all the shoppers looked on, filmed me with their phones, and called words of encouragement to the officers. They'd strip me in front of my friends and neighbors and force me to my knees. Then they'd collar me like a real slave, which is what I'd be at that point. They would leash the new slave and lead me out to their cruiser and, like as not, have their way with me on the way to the slave court.

I forced myself to keep my hands on the table. It was a hot fantasy but it'd be a cruel reality and to keep it from becoming a reality, I needed the best loan terms possible. Aunt Amy would help me with that.

We were sitting on my dad's deck behind our house, drinking coffee after breakfast. I'd just graduated high school yesterday and I had applications in for college and scholarships I was still waiting to hear from. What I didn't have was money for anything more than community college. I needed a student loan if I was going to get a degree that would open doors.

"Aunt Amy," I said, twisting some strands of my hair, "tell me about this one-week course. You say I'd be shipped there? How?"

She smiled, happy, I suppose, that she had sold me on the one-week course and said, "You'll be processed as a slave, assigned a SIN, which would be tattooed inside your lower lip, chipped, given an enema, and so on, but you'd be placed in a chastity belt and a special shipping collar warning the wranglers you aren't for use. Since you'll be shipping from Frederick, you'll be held there until enough slaves going west arrive to make a trip worthwhile. There will probably be no change in shippers, though they might need to drop off or pick up some other slaves in Hagerstown or Cumberland, so you'll spend a few hours in a kennel except for rest breaks. It'll help you get in a slave state of mind."

"In the meantime," she continued, in a more demanding tone, "you need to drill in the advanced slave yoga class I'm paying for and I expect you to take it seriously. In a couple of weeks, I'll fly up and take you to the Frederick Slave Market for grading. Make sure you clear your calendar for a month."

I started rubbing one of my hands with the other. I wish I had moisturizer, but I didn't. By "take it seriously," she meant, wearing a shock collar controlled by the Slave Mistress in charge of the course. I hated the idea, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. In any case, I couldn't afford to waste Aunt Amy's gift.

"Why a month?" I asked. "Even with delays, with a week of slave training at the school, transport, and the grading, shouldn't the whole thing be done in less than two weeks?"

"I want you to consider the two-week course. It would help your price a lot and I know you'd love the basic pony girl training. After training and grading, you may need a couple of days, maybe even a whole week to adapt to being free again."

"Could I bring my boyfriend?"

She looked confused. "What, for your slave grading? Has he been graded?"

I shook my head and told her, "His dad's taking him to be graded next week. I meant for the trip when you drop me off at the Frederick Slave Market." It could be the last time I see him, if I went thru with the reversible auction, though I couldn't say that to Aunt Amy. She would reverse the auction, but what if she didn't? It was a real auction with a real chance of winding up in the collar.

She looked dubious. "If you like, but I won't bring him when I pick you up. That'd just be asking for trouble. You're more than a set of holes but, after your training and grading, you might think otherwise for a while."

I relaxed a little. "Thank you, Aunt Amy. My teachers say that your slave grade is a rite of passage, but I just keep thinking of all of the things that could go wrong. I'll feel better having him with me, at least as far as the Frederick Slave Market. There are so many stories of slave grades turning into unexpected slavery."

She sighed and reassured me, "It happens, but not nearly so often as you'd think from the news or those slave romance novels. Most people go in for a grading and come out with a grade." In a more serious tone, Aunt Amy added, "Just never let your spouse put you up for a reversible auction. Your sale price would end up being a community asset, which would devolve to your husband alone after your assets had been liquidated and your debts paid."

I smiled. Stories where that happened and the enslaved former spouse ended up glad to be out of her failed marriage and met the master of her dreams were a staple of drugstore novels.

Aunt Amy looked annoyed. "Wipe that smile off your face. You wouldn't end up with the master of your dreams."

"Sorry, Aunt Amy. It's a nice fantasy where everyone gets what they deserve."

She shook her head. "The reality is far different. If you want to play that kind of game, tell me now and I'll arrange a one-year indenture with real slave training so you can try and find the master of your dreams. Would you prefer to be auctioned in DC, Dallas, or LA? Or is there somewhere else you think you'd find a master that suits you? It would change you for life, maybe ruin you, and you'd need treatment afterward, but better to do that now than after you've established yourself."

"No, Aunt Amy, please don't," I pleaded. "I don't want to be a slave. Not ever. Not even a little. That's why I want to keep the course to one week. I know I need it, but the whole thing scares me."

"The whole thing is to get you terms on your loan so that you never end up on the open market," she said, still irritated. "You'll be a slave, a real slave, while you're at the market and the school, until I reverse the auction. But you'll never really be on the open market and it's a school for tourists; they won't treat you badly. You should even enjoy it."

I calmed myself and remembered how much I owed her. "Thank you, Aunt Amy. I will try to be worthy of this gift."

She relaxed and we changed the subject, talking about the schools I'd applied to and what I hoped to do with my life.
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"Present!" called slave mistress Naya, and I instantly stood with my feet spread, my hands laced behind my neck, and my head up.

"Backhands!" she ordered and I faced away from the manikin that represented her, crossing my wrists behind me, offering them for binding.

"Slave Spread!" she ordered and I spun to face the manikin and the POV camera and video screen where the manikin's head should be, and knelt with my knees spread wide and my hands laced behind my neck.

"Display, Turn, Prone, Over!" she called and I swiftly and carefully assumed the positions she ordered. There's a Zen quality to slave yoga when the slave mistress is calling positions quickly, but you have the skills to keep up. It becomes your whole world.

"Fetch the crop," she ordered and I stood and moved quickly to the back wall of my room, careful to keep my hands by my thighs until I reached the back wall. I lifted the riding crop from its hook on the wall and placed it in my mouth and turned, then, given the small size of my room, immediately dropped to all fours, crawling until I was just in front of the manikin, then going forward to my knees and elbows to press my head against the floor, then rising to a kneeling position and scooting forward lifting my ass off of my ankles and offering the manikin the crop in my mouth.

"Fours!" she commanded and I went to my hands and feet, and then dropped to my elbows, crop still in my mouth.

I'd been doing advanced slave yoga every day in my room while slave mistress Naya conducted class remotely, watching not just her POV camera, but two other cameras in the room. Right now, I was slave naked and wearing a shock collar, though I hadn't received a shock this session.

She paused and then said, "Good girls, you all have the makings of excellent slaves. This girl was honored to teach you and hopes some of you will accept that you have a calling for the collar. Naya thanks you for seeking her instruction and wishes you good luck and a good slave grade. This girl's owners will be contacting you to arrange for the return of the course hardware, but the crop, strap, dog whip, and cane are yours to keep, as is your shock collar. Goodbye class." Then the video display went dark.

I stood, returned the crop to its hock at the back of my room, made sure the cameras were switched off, then got the key to the small padlock holding the shock collar in place. It was not mandatory to lock it in place. I had started doing it after the first week. It had just seemed the thing to do.

It was also not mandatory to be naked and I had worn a bikini for the first three sessions. My frenemy Shirley was over and had helped me get ready for my fourth session, however, and when I started looking at myself in my full-length mirror before the session, she said. "That bikini's not right," and moved behind me. I was nonplussed as she unhooked the bikini top and removed it.

I started to blush and cover my breasts when she said "If you're going to be a slave, be a slave. Slaves have no modesty. Take your bikini bottom off. You're wearing a shock collar for crying out loud. Who do you think you're fooling with the bikini?"

Still blushing, I had pulled down my bikini bottom and posed before her. She looked me over carefully and smiled. "Now you're properly clothed for the course. It will help your performance." She was right. I was slave naked for that session and my performance improved. After I started locking the shock collar on for the session, my performance improved still more.

Aunt Amy was arriving later today and tomorrow morning we had an appointment with an attorney to finalize the paperwork for my training at the Frostburg Slave Academy, my grading, and a reversible auction with Aunt Amy as the holder of my Power of Attorney. Much of this was standard paperwork from the Frederick Slave Market and the Frostburg Slave Academy, but the lawyer could notarize everything, and Amy didn't want to make her final payment to the Academy until all the paperwork was done. It was a serious chunk of money, even for the one-week course, and she still wanted me to sign up for the deluxe two-week course.

I unlocked the shock collar, unbuckled it, removed it from my neck, and fingered it in my hands. It was mine to keep. So were implements of correction I leaned to fetch for Slave Mistress Naya. My boyfriend and I might role-play with the collar, and the strap and the crop might see some use, but what was I going to do with a dog whip or a cane, unless I purchased a slave I could not afford? Well, I suppose they might be of use if I ended up enslaved, but I wouldn't be providing my own equipment if that happened. Indeed, at that point, I wouldn't be providing my own anything. It was I, rather, who would be owned and provided.

I pulled open one of the doors at the bottom of my bookshelf, moved some books out of the way, and contemplated my secret stash: Five Years a Pleasure Slave, The Total Slave, Thirty Days to a Better Slave, The Ponification of the Crystal Princesses, and similar books, right near where I kept my vibrator. I rubbed myself and thought of how Shirley had made me strip before my fourth session with Slave Mistress Naya. Slavery was a dangerous fantasy; it only took a few words for it to become real and irreversible, at which point it would be far too late to object. It was a good thing Aunt Amy didn't know about my stash; she might just be tempted to let my sale go thru to get it all out of my system.

I carefully hid my stash, put on a robe, and went to shower. Aunt Amy would be here soon.

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I was dressed in a knee-length skirt, stockings, heels, and a modest top when Aunt Amy took me to the attorney to finalize the paperwork. Prim and proper while reading and signing the documents that would see me stripped and collared, fondled and felt up, caged, transported, trained, and auctioned. If Aunt Amy didn't reverse that auction, I'd be a slave for three years. Everything was in order and I only had one question. "Why does it say 'for the duration and of training, rating, auction, ordinary slave market processing until released, not to exceed one month from the day of check-in." Why one month?"

The paralegal helping us with the documents and notarizing them said, "That's standard language that allows for emergencies and adjustments to your training and processing while protecting you from an indefinite extension of your processing. Everyone uses one month as an upper limit for this sort of tourist school and it won't come to that. There's the substance of a lawsuit if anyone other than your aunt attempts to extend your training or processing without a good reason."

I had butterflies in my stomach as we finished the forms and I turned to Aunt Amy. "Do you still want me to take the two-week deluxe course?" I asked.

She hugged me and said "Yes, you'd really benefit from the two-week course. Have you changed your mind?"

"Aunt Amy, it scares the heck out of me, but I need the highest bid I can get. That means I need the best training I can get. The best you're willing to pay for."

"If that's what you want, I'll have to reschedule your check-in to Thursday or Friday. Probably Thursday, even though that means you'll have to kennel overnight in the market. I have a meeting Friday that I can't miss. The paperwork you signed is still good, but I'll have to sign and file a revised training contract for you."

I hugged Aunt Amy. "Thursday's great. That's when Shirley is checking in at the market. Maybe they'll ship us together."

She smiled as she said "I'm sure they will. Maybe you'll stop being frenemies and just be friends after the training."

No hope for that, but it would be nice to have her with me in the market and when we were shipped, even if she was getting the ultimate course and would train separately. That really wasn't time enough to go from frenemies to just friends, even if such a thing were possible between Shirley and I.

I liked Shirley but even her slave grading would be more of a status symbol for her than a necessity, like it was for me. Oh, she'd help me get the best grade I could, but if she scored prime and I didn't, she'd find a way to shove her naked ass with the Frederick fancy F brand she'd get right in my face. She'd expect me to do the same if I had the chance and, shameful as I found it to admit this, she wouldn't be wrong. Sometimes I wanted to take her over my knee in public and give her a bare-bottomed spanking she would not soon forget. Pity we weren't going to be training together as I might have gotten the chance if we were.

Of course, she'd have gotten the chance to do that right back to me. What would that be like, exactly? Not at the school but if she actually owned me. She wasn't bi, but she'd probably have me eat her out while her boyfriend looked on. Not a fun time, exactly, but somehow, the thought made me horny. Shirley would make sure I was a proper slave. She would never settle for anything less from me.

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I was wearing a robe with nothing underneath as my aunt drove me to the Frederick Slave Market. My boyfriend held me and talked about the universities he applied to and tried to coax me to talk, but I couldn't bring myself to say much. When we got to the market, my boyfriend helped me out and removed my robe.

"Collar," my aunt ordered, and I dropped to my knees with my right hand on my right thigh and my left hand holding my hair out of the way. She slipped a processing collar the Market had provided around my throat and carefully snapped it into place. It was white with the Market ID and four-digit number on it and it fit perfectly, of course. She clipped a leash in place, passed it to my boyfriend, and ordered "Backhands."

I stood, face away from her with my hands crossed behind my back. She secured them in place with a zip tie and had my boyfriend lead me into the market. We were early for my check-in appointment, so after Aunt Amy signed me in at the admissions desk, let them verify my identity with an iris scan, and answered a few questions about special medical needs that were already covered in my paperwork, we waited for me to be called. My aunt and boyfriend took two adjacent chairs while I knelt on a slave pad in front of them, watching the front desk.

There were other people in the waiting room. One was an actual slave wearing a red collar with her leash held by her actual master. Two were young men, wearing white processing collars, being led in by what I assume were their fathers. Another was a young woman, also in a white processing collar, who's leash was held by someone who looked like her older brother. Another young woman in a processing collar was being led by a woman who looked like her mother. There were also two thirtyish adults, one male and one female, in white processing collars and led in by people who were probably their spouses.

The slave and her master were both sad. I guess he had brought her here to be auctioned. The presumed older brother taking his sister to be graded was relaxed and tried to joke with her. He even got her to smile a couple of times. Everyone else was tense and serious.

This was what I'd signed up for. This was a rite of passage; everybody said so. This was the first step into the rest of my life. It was a relief when we were called for my check-in.

An older female wrangler, fortyish and a bit overweight, met us at the check-in desk and called us back to a small room behind the desk. She checked her clipboard, compared the picture on it to me, and asked. "Are you Kira Hunter, to be checked in for SIN assignment, standard processing, transport to the Frostburg Slave Academy, and slave grading and a reversible auction upon return from the academy?"

"Yes mistress," I said, a little shakily. My boyfriend passed her my leash and the wrangler gestured to the slave pad in front of her. I knelt with my knees spread and my head held high. The wrangler took a remote for the collars that everyone calls "the shocker" from her belt, touched it to my collar, and pushed a button. The remote beeped. Then she did something else to the remote and my collar buzzed and vibrated briefly.

"Girl," she said, stroking my hair, "your collar is now locked and activated. I am legally required to inform you that it is capable of delivering painful and disabling shocks if activated by any employee of the Frederick Slave Market and a variety of public servants and slave management professionals. It will also administer a disabling shock if you attempt to leave the market or enter a forbidden area of the market unaccompanied. You are now livestock and are subject to all necessary force to ensure your compliance with the orders of your handlers. Do you understand that or are you the kind that needs a taste of the whip before you understand that you're now a slave?"

She continued to stroke my hair as I nervously proclaimed one of the slave mantras I had been drilled in, "This girl understands and is eager to please her masters, mistress."

She smiled, continuing to stroke my hair for a few seconds, and said "I believe you are. The girls who get led in by their boyfriends are always so eager to please."

"Open wide," she ordered, taking a small spray can from a nearby shelf and spraying the devox into my wide-open mouth.

The wrangler looked at my aunt and my boyfriend. "She'll make a fine slave. You're done here. The front desk can help you with any monitoring arrangements. You really ought to consider selling her or, if not, getting her indentured to this young man for a month or so. They'll both thank you. When she comes back in three weeks, she'll be a different girl. "

Wait, three weeks? I tried to object, but couldn't form any words. I got a moderate, painful shock from my collar for my trouble.

The wrangler stroked my hair. "Calm down, you were doing so well. Don't you want to be my good and obedient slave?"

There was really no arguing with her, even if I hadn't been devoxed. I nodded.

She made me stand and led me out of the first processing room and into my future.

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Great start to the story, something tells me that thanks to Aunt Amy, Kira is going to enjoy a lot more cocks than she expected.

jessmartin wrote: ↑Wed Feb 05, 2025 6:12 pm Great start to the story, something tells me that thanks to Aunt Amy, Kira is going to enjoy a lot more cocks than she expected.

Thanks and oh, yes she will. She did ask for the best training Aunt Amy was willing to pay for.

Great start! Sounds like Kira wants the four-week immersion course with the day one shot of Horny Juice that jump-starts the new slave's slave heat. Studies show that sexual arousal negates depression and anxiety commonly associated with enslavement.

Mr. Smith wrote: ↑Thu Feb 06, 2025 7:29 am Great start! Sounds like Kira wants the four-week immersion course with the day one shot of Horny Juice that jump-starts the new slave's slave heat. Studies show that sexual arousal negates depression and anxiety commonly associated with enslavement.

Absolutely, she's starting it just as soon as she meets the vet during intake and for the first two weeks of training. Of course, we'll have to stop it the final week so her slave grade will be legitimate, but who's to say she shouldn't get another shot before her auction? Could be annoying for her if the sale doesn't go thru, but it's just good business when you're selling pleasure slaves.

I look at slave markets like the Big D, Longhorn, and HCI as selling an organic product that is Horny Juice free, ie no preservatives. The slave heat exhibited in the market and on the auction block is natural, not chemically induced by Horny Juice. I look at it as they are demonstrating their potential and then they are taken home or sent off to training at Venus or Pearson's for pleasure slut training where Horny Juice may be used, Broadstone or Cotillion for consort training that does not use Horny Juice, a ponygirl academy for training that may. These slaves are sold certified as not on Horny Juice, making their slave heat natural.

Then there are facilities like Middleton Place just outside of Charleston where slaves go for two months of horny juice enhanced sex training where they successfully induced slave mind in over ninety percent of the slave girls. Graduation was a slave grading at The Old Slave Mart in Charleston with the obligatory branding and then sale at one of the Old Slave Mart auction houses nationwide. Most are certified with slave mind which enhances their value for certain buyers. These slaves are identified as being on Horny Juice and their slave grade has that notation and all buyers are informed. These slave's potential has been realized through this intensive training using Horny Juice. At some point, I will describe a character, or characters going through the training. Likely in the Slave Girl Nextdoor. To a certain extent, is the buyer purchasing unmolded clay a piece of finished pottery?

In chapter 7 of The Apartment, Gentlemanmariner introduced the concept of the International Arrival Servants who are foreigners who can’t get into the US legally and can’t afford to do it illegally, so they sign themselves up for a period of indenture and consign themselves to a US-based dealer. They get sold to owners here, and when their term is up they can apply for permanent residency. Most of them get reclassified, from say Prime to Choice which doubles their indenture time due to the fraudulent first grade, and automatically bars them from residency except as a permanent slave. When their term is up they get to choose between being deported with nothing to show for their time in the US, or being legally converted over to a lifetime enslavement. Thus most of them leave.

I see a facility like Middleton Place's slave population being about 50% reclassified International Arrival Servants with ten year terms with serious cases of slave mind making them docile, horny pleasure sluts. Cruise ships, casinos, resorts, and other hospitality businesses use them keeping them on Horny Juice for the entire ten year period of enslavement. Many opt to stay accepting their fate as opposed to deportation with an uncertain future. There is a real market for Asian IAS's because of their perceived docile nature and genetics where Asian women's breasts grow twice as much as other races.

My question becomes, what is Frostburg Slave Academy? Is it one or the other, or does the owner have the option of Horny Juice use. So long as it is documented and slave graders and buyers are informed it is legal. It would be fraud to sell a slave girl on the block under the influence of Horny Juice claiming she is clean. Many buyers have a preference for one or the other depending on what they are looking to purchase. I'm looking forward to how you develop this storyline.

Then there is Ananke Academy which is a totally different type of facility.

Mr. smith and you are so right. So look forward to the continuation of this wonderful story. Thank you so much sharing your artistry.
Yours truly,
Belinda

Mr. Smith wrote: ↑Thu Feb 06, 2025 6:12 pm [....]
My question becomes, what is Frostburg Slave Academy? Is it one or the other, or does the owner have the option of Horny Juice use. So long as it is documented and slave graders and buyers are informed it is legal. It would be fraud to sell a slave girl on the block under the influence of Horny Juice claiming she is clean. Many buyers have a preference for one or the other depending on what they are looking to purchase. I'm looking forward to how you develop this storyline.

Thank you for the background. Legitimate wasn't really the right word to describe why only the first two of the three weeks is under the influence of horny juice.

To begin, The Frostburg Slave Academy is a school for tourists, that is, for those who do not intend to to become slaves are who are not intended (or, at least, who the responsible parties won't admit to intending) to be enslaved for any great length of time. For their basic (1 week) and deluxe (2 week) courses, they don't use horny juice as there is no need for it. The basic course and, to a lessor extent the deluxe course, are intended to improve the students slave grade and raise their auction price, both by certifying certain skills and drilling them in a block routine tailored to the strengths and weaknesses of each student.

For the three week ultimate course, the dynamics are a little different. There are students like Kira and Shirley who need the best possible slave grade and auction price, but there are also other students who care less about getting a good slave grade than experiencing a slave training fantasy in a safe environment. Maybe their husband, or their mother in law, knowing their curiosity about slavery, has gifted them with the ultimate package, complete with a reversible auction, so they can explore their curiosity about slavery. Since I'm bringing back my "commonplace slaves" as sexual partners in the training, horny juice is mandatory for the three week ultimate course. It stops after two weeks because, even if a slave is trained under horny juice, if the juice has cleared their body prior to their slave grading (verified via certified blood tests) than their resulting grade is no longer influenced by the horny juice.

There is, of course, the possibility of slave mind, but if two weeks of horny juice and slave training does it, they were surely intended to be slaves.

You are, of course, right about auctioning a slave under the influence of horny juice. It was a stupid idea that I hadn't properly considered, plus it probably wouldn't raise the auction price all that well.

As I noted above I believe there is a market for fully trained pleasure sluts that are certified diagnosed with slave mind who could be under the influence of Horny Juice while strutting their stuff on the auction block. There just needs to be a full disclosure so that the buyer is informed when making the appropriate bids. Remember Horny Juice has time released dosages that are effective for a day to a month depending on the formula used providing you with all sorts of flexibility in your story. Someone introduced a cream that is applied directly to the female genitalia for short term affect.

I like the concept of "Slave Tourism" with a training school that allows different levels of immersion. The experience for those in 3-4 week programs would be more realistic if they are training with actual slaves to master the sexual arts while under the influence of Horny Juice. There are so many ways you could do this that make the experience shall we say more realistic. During her ponygirl training she could be pulling a cart with another ponygirl that is an actual slave for five years. Those conversations, if they are allowed to talk, would be priceless.

Kira could confess her urges to be enslaved to her aunt leading to becoming a Summer Slut earning money for college or a Gap Year enslavement between high school and college using the money to pay for school instead of taking out loans. Experiencing slavery for a year will motivate her to excel in school while being fiscally responsible. So many young women these days run up credit card dept that they cannot afford only to be repo'd and sold for a profit. These contracts can be tailored to limit the young woman's exposure with no slave porn or commercial use clauses which would eliminate brothel use or corporate kennels. Just a thought.

Again, I looking forward to where you take this. You are an excellent writer with all sorts of new ideas that add to this legal slavery universe

Mr. Smith wrote: ↑Thu Feb 06, 2025 11:38 pm As I noted above I believe there is a market for fully trained pleasure sluts that are certified diagnosed with slave mind who could be under the influence of Horny Juice while strutting their stuff on the auction block.

As I understand it, each author represents the world of the 34th Amendment differently. Therefore, questions arise both from one author to another and from readers.

Mr. Smith wrote: ↑Thu Feb 06, 2025 11:38 pm [....]
I like the concept of "Slave Tourism" with a training school that allows different levels of immersion. The experience for those in 3-4 week programs would be more realistic if they are training with actual slaves to master the sexual arts while under the influence of Horny Juice. There are so many ways you could do this that make the experience shall we say more realistic. During her ponygirl training she could be pulling a cart with another ponygirl that is an actual slave for five years. Those conversations, if they are allowed to talk, would be priceless.

Certain kinds of slave tourism are well established in the universe, ie slavecations and weekends at the ponygirl farm. If a women checks herself into a ponygirl farm for a weekend and they teach her ponygirl skills, they may not call it a school for tourists, and it may be a sideline to their other work, but the ponygirl farm is acting as a school for tourests.

I like your suggestions for the story, but it's too early to see how those will pan out. Thank you.

If I recall correctly Joe Doe sent Tracy on a "slavecation" in Slave Yoga where she ended up on an auction block in Greece for a possible permanent slavecation. Every time a person voluntarily signs away their freedom for a grading, slavecation, ponygirl experience or Best Chance auction there is always the possibility that a temporary visit becomes more permanent due to a glitch in the system or a betrayal. There are several court opinions on the matter.

In Sullivan et al v. HCI the court ruled that any woman who voluntarily displays the attributes of a slave by stripping naked and wearing a slave collar in the private business areas of a slave market assumes the risk of being identified and sold as inventory of the slave market and is estopped from taking legal action. In this case, six sorority girls were snuck into the HCI slave market in Dallas to spend the night as slaves as part of their pledge week hazing. The employee responsible for getting them out in the morning had an automobile accident and didn’t get there until the next day. By that time, they were processed as inventory and sold at auction for five-year terms. Two ended up in brothels, three became ponygirls, and the last one was shipped overseas to the Middle East and disappeared never to be seen again. By the time the case got to court two of the ponygirls had developed a serious case of slave mind. One of the whores quickly developed slave mind during her pleasure slut training at Venus and ended up starring in several popular slave porno flicks becoming a well-known spokesmodel for a popular BDSM brothel chain. By the time the case got to trial her image was everywhere online and on billboards across town. The other slut was quickly located and purchased by her family and manumitted within weeks of her sale. Their families sued HCI to invalidate the sale, seeking the girls' return and for monetary damages alleging negligence for selling property that was not legally inventory. The court ruled in favor of HCI finding that no sane woman trespassing in a restricted area of an HCI slave market would voluntarily strip naked and put on a slave collar posing as an actual slave and not think that HCI would consider them inventory available for sale.

Then there's the holding in Henderson et al v. HCI where a lightning strike knocked out the power to the HCI Houston slave market for a few minutes. When the computer system rebooted it errantly identified all the women with the deluxe reality slave grading package as actual inventory for sale. This included the TCU cheerleading squad on a team-building exercise. They were on display when the power came back on and misidentified as inventory. With everything behind schedule, they were rushed to the auction block without being devoxed and sold. The court found that a natural disaster absolved HCI of any responsibility for the error.

I'm looking forward to reading the next installment. I would note from the above case law sorority coeds have a particular affinity for putting themselves in situations where they end up enslaved. I'm not sure if this is an attribute or a fine example of Darwinism's Survival of the Fittest.

Mr. Smith wrote: ↑Sat Feb 08, 2025 8:17 am If I recall correctly Joe Doe sent Tracy on a "slavecation" in Slave Yoga where she ended up on an auction block in Greece for a possible permanent slavecation. Every time a person voluntarily signs away their freedom for a grading, slavecation, ponygirl experience or Best Chance auction there is always the possibility that a temporary visit becomes more permanent due to a glitch in the system or a betrayal. There are several court opinions on the matter.

You are certainly correct that every time a person signs away their freedom, it may become permanent, or, at least, work out in a fundamentally different way than planned. Consider Claire in part two of Gary's "Vacation to Slave Grading." She's supposed to go to the York Slave Training School where "they don’t use harsh methods like the more serious schools.” and ends up being sent to Roman House, which is as serious as a heart attack. It's hard to feel too sorry for Tracy, though. When she allowed herself to be bullied into a rushed slavecation not even knowing where she'd end up, well, she might as well have signed up for a Best Chance auction with the mother-in-law of her estranged spouse as the one holding her power of attorney. (Obviously, she didn't have a spouse or a mother-in-law in the story. And thank you for giving me a reason to reread that section of "My Slave Yoga". I'd forgotten how good it was.)

The court case in Sullivan et al v. HCI is obviously correct, even if HCI did a shitty job of tracking inventory. When they snuck into HCI and impersonated slaves, they self indentured and absolutely needed to be sold. Really, it was the best thing for them.

Still, something can be the safe alternative in the sense of being the least risky way of getting the intended effect. A well conducted slavecation at at Slave Slut Winery is unlikely to end with accidental enslavement, though it may well so wake the slave within that nothing short of real slavery will do. Similarly, the ultimate course at the Frostburg Slave Academy, while it carries a small risk of slave mind, is fundamentally safer than a similar course at a real slave school. Besides, the real risk of a course at the Frostburg Slave Academy is the reversible auction when you're returned to the slave market for grading. It must be the case that, other than persons signing up for a Best Chance auction, persons who go in for a slave grade or slavecation are only rarely accidentally enslaved.

WRT sorority coeds, perhaps it's just natures way of guiding people into their best, most useful, lives.

The exquisite uncertainty of not leaving as a free woman at the end of what is supposed to be a short-term enslavement is one of the themes in the legal slavery universe that is so much fun to play with as an author. There are so many ways to use it to add to the tension in the story. I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

In the case of program failure due to lightning, there is no direct fault (although everything depends on the lawyers), but all acts of sale may be considered void. Another thing that confuses me is that virtually walking barefoot is fine, but in reality it’s easy to kill your feet and toes. And without clothes too - teenagers often think with the wrong head, and there are a lot of naked girls here...

Sissy wrote: ↑Sat Feb 08, 2025 7:31 pm In the case of program failure due to lightning, there is no direct fault (although everything depends on the lawyers), but all acts of sale may be considered void. Another thing that confuses me is that virtually walking barefoot is fine, but in reality it’s easy to kill your feet and toes. And without clothes too - teenagers often think with the wrong head, and there are a lot of naked girls here...

WRT canceling sales, the third party sale rule is established lore. Since both the market and the buyer believed the sale was legit, it can't be challenged. (OK, the market should have known, and I can't believe their own incompetence could be an excuse when dealing with such valuable merchandize, but the subjects would still be slaves and can't bring legal action on their own.) It was the story "Gotcha by D.Night" in Member Stories < viewtopic.php?t=1102 > that justified a lot of the 34th amendment lore to me.

WRT bare feet and nudity, we are telling erotic fantasy stories in universes that wouldn't necessarily stand a lot scrutiny. Different authors have different degrees of concern for details that don't really affect the story or in different stories by the same author. Most authors will neglect sexually transmitted disease, for instance. Now, I'm more than happy to include slave footwear for outdoor slaves. I even included steel toed boots for the warehouse slaves in chapter 2 of "The Cost of My Dreams". I'm may include a lot of sunscreen for ponygirls. The application of it could be interesting. But, for other authors, it may just be a distraction they don't want to deal with.

Regarding the legality of the sale several authors in their stories have taken the position that when a registered slave is sold to a third party by a licensed slave dealer, the sale and enslavement become irrevocable unless it is found that the buyer, seller, and dealer were all acting in bad faith. Even if the slave market is shown to have acted in bad faith and thus legally liable the enslavement remains untouched. There would need to be some other remedy to make the victim whole.

I'm envisioning shipping a slave to Connecticut for Christmas and will need to address keeping the slave warm and healthy. Heated cages seem prohibitively expensive and thus a more traditional method involving footwear and clothing would seem necessary. I do not recall if my ponygirls were slathered with sunscreen to protect them. It would be another opportunity for eighteen-year-olds to fondle the slave girls everywhere paying particular attention to particularly sensitive parts of the body that you wouldn't want sunburned. So I may have missed out on an opportunity for further humiliation and embarrassment. Regarding SDTs I have used a pinprick app to ensure individuals are SDT-free while others have used condoms or just don't address the issue.

LoyalHound,
A fictional world is good, but a little reality, taking into account the peculiarities of thinking of those sitting at the top, is better. You can introduce a mandatory dress code for slaves, as I already wrote in Geri’s stories.

Mr. Smith
Here I would consider replacing a slave with another, either at the expense of the assets of an unscrupulous merchant, or slavery of the merchant himself. Plus, “ignorance of the laws does not excuse one from responsibility,” and controversial issues are bread for lawyers. Moreover, if a bona fide buyer is in possession of stolen property, he will have to return it.

Mr. Smith wrote: ↑Sun Feb 09, 2025 3:31 am I'm envisioning shipping a slave to Connecticut for Christmas and will need to address keeping the slave warm and healthy. Heated cages seem prohibitively expensive and thus a more traditional method involving footwear and clothing would seem necessary. I do not recall if my ponygirls were slathered with sunscreen to protect them. It would be another opportunity for eighteen-year-olds to fondle the slave girls everywhere paying particular attention to particularly sensitive parts of the body that you wouldn't want sunburned. So I may have missed out on an opportunity for further humiliation and embarrassment. Regarding SDTs I have used a pinprick app to ensure individuals are SDT-free while others have used condoms or just don't address the issue.

Regarding the clothes, Gary had one for Canada and Alaska in one of the stories. And so, in my opinion, slaves need clothes and shoes, but such that would emphasize their status.