StripSearch

Hi,

at first a warning – this story may be a little bit hard and harsh.

And it is a first time story, from an author writing in a non native language.
But it is finished.

It is no strip search story, but takes place in the world that my mind calls 'the joe doe universe' -
it should fit into the slave world depicted by various authors here – while I was heavily inspired by an author named jessbbaby, if someone knows her work he will sincerely find some 'clues'

Up to date I just silently enjoyed the different stories in this forum.
So I'll publish my little story here, hope that it is not to far away from what is accepted here.

It is a little harder I myself prefer, but I wrote it in a felt very short time, as if it has written itself.
So, I am happy to get it out of my mind, and I hope that insane little guy at the edge of my mind with his drum and his trumpet is leaving with this story, too...
and am still a little thrilled to push the “new topic” button.

Hope someone is as excited as myself when the 'topic counter' turns,
and I hope that someone also likes this reason:



The invention of Slave Chow


The bailiff, a too young looking pimply, meager guy announced:
“Next issue: dismissal of a slave complaint – accusation: slave abusal.”

Judge Carversten turned to the attorney .
He was an aristocratic looking men in his late 30s, athletic and dressed in an expensive suit.
He seemed displaced in a slave court.
“Mr. Braclav, is there a good reason to deny the dismissal?”
Mr. Braclav, on the other hand, was a short, bald guy that fiddled nervously in his papers. He had some more weight than he should have, and fitted well.

“Yes, your honor.” the attorney stated. “We assume that this might be a real case of severe slave abuse. To protect societies slave assets we demand a lawsuit.”
“Uncommon, Mr. Braclav.”, the judge shrugged, “you really have a slave that risks that?”

“Yes, your honor. The slave, it is currently called D7, her slave number is, a sec...” he fumbled in his paper, but the judge just mentioned him to continue” … called D7 is currently in … “fumbling again, until the judge hemmed angry - “ … a hospital. She had an allergic reaction after being exposed to an unknown drug by the accused, the SaNutriMed Corporation.
According to the slave, the corporation is testing chemicals and drugs on slaves. They are force fed or smeared on slaves, and may cause severe health issues, chemical burns or other, unknown consequences.
The SaNutriMed Corporation is not listed at the FDA, and has no concession for neither drug production, usage or testing.

To protect the slave from further damages we apply for a confiscation. We want a testimony and so she cannot be sent back to the accused.
The slave further begs for early manumission, her indenture is nearly over and we will have problems with a resale of a probably damaged slave. Chance is she will even get a monetary compensation for her resale – depreciation.
We prepare further motions against the corporation, and we are taking the complaints very serious.

We clarified that a dismissal of this complaint could impose a penalty time for the slave, but she is willing to fight the complaint through. Although she only has some weeks of slavery ahead.

Every case of slave abuse reduces the acceptance of slavery and frightens away otherwise potential slaves. It is in the interest of the society to investigate and chase every reasonable suspected case.”

The judge turned his gaze to the other side.
Mr. Sumner, a middle aged man that had the visuals of a typical corporate lawyer sat near his client, Miss Vernor – a lady that wanted to seem older than her mid 30s. She wore decent make up and an ultra conservative beige business suit. The judge queried:
“Mr. Sumner, any reason for this not going to court? Why do you need a dismissal, despite Mr. Braclavs objection?”

„Your honor, we are currently planning the launch of a new line of products. We don't want negative reports, search warrants and lawsuits endangering a successful commercialization.“

The judge nodded: “I understand that, but I need someone from your corporation that can take direct accountability for the accusations.”

„Miss Vernor here is the majority owner of the company, and she leads the development department D7 is enslaved to.”

“Okay, Miss Vernor. I need to clarify the following to you: You, as owner, are able to dismiss any complaint from a slave as long as the attorney approves. If a complaint is dismissed, the complaining slave can and frequently will be penalized. Usually it imposes a prolongation of the indenture.

But in the rare case the attorney disagrees the dismiss can be fought through at court – even if is just a judicial decision and no full trial. And to prevent slave owners from dismissing eligible complaints in this one case both sides are risking an enslavement.

So, Miss Vernor, if you do not convince me or Mr. Braclav that the accusations are pointless you may be stripped, enslaved and collared for a time I deem appropriate. In the pending action you will not be in your current position, sitting next to your lawyers. You will kneel naked and chained in front of them and await a possible conviction under slave law.”

“I already warned Miss Vernor that this would be possible, but she is willing to bear the risk. She was happy with D7s performance up to today and was willing to offer her a very profitable prolongation. She felt crestfallen after this break of trust, and expects D7 will get a well deserved, unpaid prolongation.

She has the firm conviction that it sets a really bad example to let a slave escape its obligations.
Therefore she is personally here today to allay all doubts concerning her guilt in this case. We prepared a presentation for your honor, and Miss Vernor will answer any questions remaining. We only want to beg for your discretion and hope you will transfer the questioning into your judge's room. You will be let into some business secrets.“

„Accepted. But Miss Vernor: I like one of the advantages of presiding in slave court. There is nearly always a naked slave girl directly in my sight wearing a collar or waiting for a collar. If this is a waste of my precious time I will make sure YOU are this girl. You should be aware of this, before we continue. Last chance“

The sophisticated lady got glowing red ears, but still nodded in direction of the judges room. She grabbed her handbag and a small sized travel bag and followed her lawyer.


The judge sat behind his desk: „Please, take a seat. No reason to be so formal here. I notice your asking gaze, Miss Vernor. This is not the lawyer of your slave. Mr. Braclav is a state attorney, he is not representing your slave – he protects the collective of slaves from abuse.
Hence he is also bound to discretion, regarding your business secrets, and if you are able to proof your innocence I am sure he will happily dismiss this case.
So, as we are all sworn to secrecy, you may begin. Why is this no slave abuse?“

Miss Vernor regained her composure, and produced a rectangular, white box that looked like a small milk carton. She used a tear strip to rip the top of the container open and pushed the four sides down – unfolding the connecting parts between them. On the desk was a small gelatinous, transparent cuboid in the middle of a makeshift bowl of coated carton.

„So, this is a block of SaNutri-24 – in a bland, tasteless flavor. It is an non-allergic product with enough nutrition for 24 hours, you only need to supply water and salt. In non tasteless products we are able to put the necessary amount of salt into the mass, but in the tasteless form it simply is impossible, you would always get a salty feeling on your tongue. Originally we invented this block for patients with extreme allergies, or heavy illnesses in the gastrointestinal tract or liver. Up to date we found absolutely nobody showing any signs of allergic reaction to the base mass. We only need a short part of the colon intact to be resorbed. It does not contain toxic substances, therefor it does not stress liver or kidney.“

„But this is not the mass you force fed your slave?!“, Mr. Braclav objected.

„No, it is not. We added some flavors to it.“

The judge and the attorney both examined the dubious block curiously.
„You can taste it, if you want to?“, Miss Vernor produced some disposable spoons. Both men looked at each other, the judge shrugged his shoulders and stuck a spoon in the flabby block. He dug out a small chunk and eyeballed it suspiciously.

„It tastes as neutral as we could make it, and it is completely safe.“, Miss Vernor said with an inviting gesture.

The judge touched the chunk with the tip of his tongue, and his grimace relaxed. He bit off a tiny piece of the chunk, chewed, let it roll over his tongue and swallowed:
„Weird. It feels like there is something you can taste, but you just can't get a hold of it. The texture is like yello – I prefer something more chewable, but who am I to judge?“ He said with a smirk.

As the judge relaxed and with the idea of a collar around her neck at increasing distance Miss Vernor got more self-confident – and continued with her presentation:

„I nearly always hear that there is some flavor, that you can just get no hold of it. I think it is our brain, trying to fill a void.
As we add different flavors to this mass we are able to fill the void with different tastes, we can even modify the mouth-texture. This would never get as good as a real steak, but we can vastly improve the gustatory experience. We currently offer more than 200 different meals and components, from simple cooked potatoes up to a complete menu. And while it may not be able to compete with a skilled cook or maybe even a good housewife, it is way better than what some slaves are fumbling together in kitchens.

And our products are extremely durable.
We are a rapidly expanding business - we even provided some of the provisions for space missions. Our small stackable containers are also more an more popular as emergency rations.
With the larger demand we have been able to make our products cheaper – but we still had a pretty limited target-group.

And this is where we get to this ridiculous case of slave-abuse:
The next logical step was to provide fodder for slaves.

Therefore we created our new brand NutriSlave – SlaveChow.
We are currently negotiating different supply-contracts – with several slave-markets, slave training schools and slave-rental-services. They all have a demand for easy superposable, long durable alternatives to regular slave fodder.
We are able to provide slave chow with very basic flavors, fruits or standard aromas like chocolate or strawberry – for a very reasonable pricing.“

„And that is what you force fed into that slave girl?“, Mr. Braclav interjected again.

„We gave her a bowl with the food in it. 'Force-fed' sounds pretty harsh – we didn't force it down her throat, even if she of course had to eat up her bowl.

And I will get to the point what exactly was in this bowl:

Our NutriSlave line was up to then pretty similar to slave kibble, not much difference – only a way better taste for the slaves. But a slave does not pay, a slave does not order. We needed something special, something only we could deliver. Then I had the vision of 'CumFlavor'.
I analyzed an enormous quantum of different cum samples and created a flavor that tastes more like cum than actual cum. We got so much preorders, we are still processing our waiting list.

So the basis for all on slave D7 tested products is our non-allergic base and a range of market-usual chemical flavors. It is nearly impossible that slave D7 had an allergic reaction to one of this flavors, but if she really reacted to one of our aromas this could have happened with any other processed food. That is the reason I don't agree with the slave abuse case – we are simply not testing drugs. There is only well known and widespread artificial flavors. And as D7 was in our testing facility, she got medical help really fast and her personal risk was by far lower than in nearly every other slave occupation.
And I am here to proof without a doubt that we are not testing any drugs on slaves like D7.“

„You said you are already producing and shipping this cum flavored goo? So this is still not the goo D7 tested – right?“ - the attorney concluded.

Miss Vernor produced another, similar container with only a completely different overall printing. It was neon yellow with small diagonal red stripes and read PUNISHMENT circular all around the sides.

She opened it like the first container, and showed the lid - in the center of the picture was a really sweaty, very fat guy in his late 50's. He wore a dirty pair of flap trousers, with one flap exposing his formerly white, currenly multicolored shirt. The shirt did ride up and exposed two bulges of fat pushing over the sides of the flap. He was grinning widely, and leaned his underarm on his raised leg, the dirty, smeary boot resting on the androgyn back of a kneeling slave.

Over him was written in artistic letters 'Fat Fred's' and under it 'punishment chow'. Near the boot they could read „Well Worked Boot Flavor“.
Miss Vernor opened the carton, and it also formed a makeshift bowl, but this time the block in it was full of muddy smears, and there were small particles in different colors floating in the gelatinous mass, strengthening the dirty look.

It had an oily, greasy surface – all in all it didn't look healthy, not even eatable, and sincerely not pleasant-tasting.

„This is what D7 tested. Fat Fred's well worked boots flavor.
The great success of cum flavor taught me that there is a great interest in slave fodder that actually tastes very bad while not harming the slave in any way – concerning 'slave abuse':

The punishment chows base is healthy and contains no harming substances at all. You could live a whole life consuming solely our chow without suffering any deficiency syndrome – there are no carcinogens inside and no overflow of sugar or other substances you find in every other high-processed food.

Independent testings are showing it is healthier than nearly everything you can eat, and way better than slave kibble – you don't even need to brush your teeth, dental prophylaxis is included.

We only modified the taste of our outstanding base mass:
For this one we 'distilled' the odor of a big pile well worn work boots – sweaty, dirty work boots. You can even taste some nuggets of dirt and sand in the muddy, sweaty mass.

Yes, it is superior to slave kibble, because it tastes so much worse. Instead of trying to have no taste at all, this one is for the sadistic masters – or for really nasty slaves. Or, and I like that possibility the most, it is a constant reminder. The price for this 'delicacy' is much higher than for our standard flavored products, but you only really need to buy two of it.

The first one should be fed to the slave as soon as it fits, for the slightest infraction or just to drive home the point, and the other one left as everlasting threat near our more tasty products.
Of course I recommend a monthly feeding, to keep the slaves memory always fresh.

And this is it, this small block is the reason for our meeting today. As I said, there is no drug in it, nothing different from a whole bunch of foodstuff all around the supermarkets.

I have several documents with me that give proof what I already stated: There are only well tried and frequently used ingredients in my products. Nothing you won't find in the shelves of most supermarkets.

The risk for any allergic reaction is even lower as with slave kibble. It is very likely that an allergic reaction to anything in this product would have happened anyway, but in every other location it may really have posed a threat for her. I have a list of ingredients and certificates that proof that we are only using standard flavors that are very widely used.

And I added a personal affidavit guaranteeing that I manipulated neither the list of ingredients nor the certificates, and I guarantee it not with money but my personal freedom here in slave court!
This is just a case of bad luck, it has nothing to do with slave abuse – I am not testing any medicals on innocent slaves.“

Mr. Braclav made a serious face – and passed Miss Vernor his spoon: „Eat up!“

Miss Vernor looked confused: „What?“ -

„Eat up!“ - Mr Braclav ordered again - „If it is not harmful, and you want to prove it, eat it up. I will not work through a pile of documents maybe saying nothing, and your affidavit maybe guaranteeing nothing if you are unwilling to show me that you are really convinced this stuff is not harmful.

We will continue, and you will answer our questions, but if there is something left on this makeshift plate when we are finished with interrogation I will try everything I can to go to court. Assumed your approval, your honor?“

„He got a point“, the judge confirmed, „way faster than paperwork and consultants – it was you who said you want this case dismissed fast. And this is a simple and quick way to do that – convince us by proofing you are convinced yourself!“

Miss Vernor looked confused at the two men, for a moment she thought they were joking.
But both looked pretty serious, Mr. Braclav nodded in direction of his held out spoon.

She took a deep breath, made a decision, straightened up and regained her composure, grabbed the spoon and said:
“Just don't come too close.” - both men looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders –
“I'll show you – this spoon was not in your mouth?” she asked Braclav, who shook his head.

Vernor dug out a spoon full of the feculent mass and held it out to both men consecutively: “This is the basic setting of our mass. It has no smell at all – a slave owners nose should not be disturbed. If you are ripping open this package you are going to punish a slave, you should not be annoyed yourself.
At first we tried to keep it completely odorless. But the effect was not as penetrating as we wanted it to be. Now I'll show you another secret.”

She stuck out her tongue and touched the mass with the saliva glistening tip.

“Don't get to close, use your hand to fan yourself a little bit of the odor now.” she ordered while again holding out the spoon to both men. They used their hands as told to get them some olfactory impression and both retched and quickly sat back.

Miss Vernor smiled wickedly, took a deep breath and sunk the spoon in her mouth. Both men stared at her while she quickly swallowed, an expression of pain flashed over her face:

“It stays odorless until you bring it in contact with saliva. In our first testings the slaves simply wolfed it down as fast as possible - the taste could be circumvented. We solved that problem, and we solved it thoroughly. I need to chew it, or else it is like swallowing sandpaper. The small bits are scratching my throat and gullet, at first it is only mildly painful for me, but if I try to swallow it completely I will be in serious pain.

And our punishment chow spreads in an instant, even if I try to swallow it quickly. My whole mouth up the the palate is now filled with a slimy, sticky coat – and the odor is evaporating into the back of my nose. All taste buds are filled with the same flavor you got a whiff of. ” She took another spoon full and put it in her mouth, this time chewing it slowly, her face contorted in revulsion -

“Nauseating. Horrible! Brilliant …. it is everything you expect and so much more. A truly disgusting experience. We wanted it to taste like, well, imagine the boot of that guy on the picture – someone who is not that convinced of personal hygiene – using the same boots for month, not even pulling them off for sleep.
And now you invert that boot and force your slave to chew on the insides. And we carried it to the extreme – the essence of this sweaty imagination is now obtrusively insulting my sense of taste.

To avoid the pain I need to chew this little lumps in it, some feeling like biting in sand, this spine-shaking crackling on my teeth, and the mud-lumps, like biting in real dry dirt, soaking up all wetness around it while leaving a swampy-turfy taste and feeling.

Another very nice feature is that you need to come pretty close to me to get disturbed by any smell that is circling through my nose. It stays nearly solely in my mouth and nasal cavities.

You could rip down my cloth, push me an all fours and rigorously fuck me from behind while pushing my face down in my punishment chow – you would not even smell a little bit of the stench I have to deal with.
As I said – only the slave should get punished.

It is still possible to use the slaves other holes while you feed it and discipline it in one action. Imagine fucking my asshole while I am forced to eat this –what an excellent educational lesson!”

The judge cleared his throat and stretched the trousers in his crotch:
“Okay, thank you miss Vernor, I don't think you need to finish your 'sweaty boot' – we are both convinced.”

Miss Vernor paused for a moment, then disgust and determination rivaled in her expression while she stabbed the spoon another time in “Fat Freds” specialty:

“I am not going to weasel myself out of my accountability. You ordered me to eat up and I accepted. I am here today because I don't see why my slave should be freed and compensated.

I bought her second hand, gave her a chance. She was a stupid girl, her parents died and she found a romeo slaver promising her a wonderful life if she pledged herself. So she was tricked into slavery, now she thinks she could trick herself out of slavery.

I will not try to do the same. The whole block it is. And the worst effect is already caused. I designed this punishment chow to linger on – again without disturbing the owner. When I have finished you only need to wait some seconds, maybe a minute until you could fuck my mouth, even deep-throat me – without having to deal with the nauseating consequences of my fodder. No sweaty boots flavor on a dick I will be forced to suck.

The taste and stench is kept locally in my mouth and on my buds – but I will experience this lesson for hours. We tested it with water, and I can drink gallons without alleviating the disgust plaguing me the slightest.

Put the case you are still thinking I wasted your time you could bring me back to court, strip me to my birthday suite, collar my neck and fuck me thoroughly – possibly I still have that sweaty boot torturing me when the branding iron at the slave market burns deep into my backside.

Every bit I take” - she put the spoon another time in her mouth, again her face contorted, “will prolong it a little more. As I will have to eat it completely I can expect it to last for something between 6 hours, when I am very lucky, up to 14 hours – even if that is unlikely, only one tester experienced it over this long period. Naturally the taste gets a little less penetrating with the passing of time.

Oh, and give me a moment, -” she was looking in her bag and produced a small yellow cup with a cap - “ yes, I think this should no longer be at my disposal. This is one of our promotion-bags, and if someone is really up to try a “Fat Fred's” we could offer him this mouthwash.

We use a lipid-based liquid to eliminate or alleviate the continuing taste. As I will 'eat up' completely it will sincerely only alleviate my malaise, but I don't feel like I should have that decision. We have a judge here, I prefer the idea that your honor will decide whether I will get it or not when I have finished my meal and this interrogation – hope your honor agrees?”

She held out the small cup while the judge was again working with his trousers, then he straightened up and, grinning, took it. He examined it, shook it and then placed it in best sight but out of reach of Miss Vernor on his desk. She tried to but could not suppress a yearning glance, which made his grin turn a little evil.

“We will see...” he remarked, “please continue.”
She took another spoon full and chewed grimacing, eliciting a laugh from judge and attorney -
“Please continue with your presentation, too.”

She spent another short moment to look at the small cup, focused back to the judge and continued with a barely audible sigh: “Maybe I will regret this, but I just couldn't live up to the idea: Sitting here with both of you, whining how long I will have to suffer just to use a mouthwash the moment I step out of this room to nullify all reason for my whining. You have my word that I will honor your decision, your honor, I will not have any other shortcut available and even if I could get some I will not use it without your explicit permission.”

She took another spoon, her eyes narrowed: “There is always the feeling you will get accustomed to this taste, but no, still as bad as at the beginning.... Just … another fact: Our first prototypes contained no non-digestible substances. In our early testings we found the colon of probands clear and empty after 3 to 5 days. This could pose a problem if you are using only our food for extended periods of time. A colon with nothing to do could possibly 'get lazy'. So we needed something to keep it occupied – we added some long chained fibers. They will pass through the gastrointestinal tract and come out as clear, non smelling slimy substance.

We could have tried to change that, but actually it was better than we expected, let's just spin my butt branding out a little further ...”
the judge saw Miss Vernor blushed slightly, shook her head, took a breath and took another spoon, chewing with her usual grimace she continued:

”Yes, I think that would help understanding what we do with slaves and why we do it: Let's assume you just bought my lazy slave ass and fried it with your preferred symbol, I still have that bad taste in my mouth and dream longingly of that small cup on your desk, which got ultimately out of my reach – and now I also have a really hurting butt reminding me that I should have been much more convincing in this hearing. Too late – I am now obliged to live with my failure. My last bad decision, from now on you will decide for me.

And you decide that I was spending way too much money for stupid things, no more cosmetics, no more spa's, and, what I will hate maybe most, no more expensive food. I loved my evenings in expensive restaurants, enjoying the various different tastes and textures, making it perfect with a glass of sweet wine, yes, I've always preferred the sweet over the real 'good' wines.

But now I would celebrate a shot glass of vinegar – because my master put me on a NutriCum and water diet. After 4 maybe 5 days there is no more need to go to the toilet, I can wipe away outflowing lube-slime, but mostly it just gets fucked away whenever my master is in the mood. And he is often in the mood. I am a really bad domestic slave, and so I rarely earn myself a cunt-fucking, the nasty slave has to suck and gets it anal only.

And there is punishment chow. I got Fat Freds Boot another time, but this time my colon is clear, and as it passed through I can feel the small bits chafing my sphincter, especially when I get used anally. Not enough to disturb my owner in any way, but enough to remind me that I am a incapable stupid slave that needs to be punished again and again.
The small bits that are left in my colon are powdered into nearly non existence with a good, rigorous butt-fuck.

My continuous failure in domestic services led to the decision to use myself for harder work – it is harvesting time and there are farmhands needed. Working in the fields while getting constantly whipped to work I need much more calories than before. The watering will be done with a trough, but I need more of my slave chow. You could just use our CalorieCalc app and increase my rationing. If I am only working for a short time that would not be necessary, my chow includes reserves – complex molecules the body only uses when necessary, otherwise they get discarded as part of the translucent lubing slime.

After some weeks of NutriCum, only disrupted by some punishment chows to add some spice, you find I earned a little reward. Let's say you have some left overs – or, even better your dog left some remains in his bowl. I will go down on all fours, luckily put my slave face in the bowl and lick it perfectly clean, feasting on the carnival of different tastes dancing over my tongue. I am so grateful for my master I use my sphincter to massage his dick as good as I can even if it hurts badly while getting my obligatory dinner-buttfuck. As my master says: Let's keep your bowels boiling!

The dogfood is sliding down into my stomach, who is pretty surprised by something new. It needs to produce more acid. A warm feeling is spreading from my center through my whole body. A sensation I forgot is now flooding me with utter gratefulness for the mercy of my master. And that is not the end. It will pass through my whole intestines, and everywhere it passes there will be some surprised body parts that send happy signals into my slave-brain. Sometimes there is a painful cramp, but even that just brings back the memory of that lovely bowl of delicacies – I will enjoy them, too.
Until, at last, there will be this tiny ball I will eventually defecate some days later, making me long for another treat. I will be as good as I can just to get the chance to taste something other than cum again.

Harvesting season has gone, I am back to domestic slavery. And I am a really bad domestic slave.
And then there is a advertising in your inbox from the company you ordered my NutriCum and my occasional punishment chow. There is a new 'Fat Fred's domestic punishment line'. And a commercial video. I would recommend I just show you our commercial – I think you might enjoy it.”
Both men looked at her in anticipation, nodding. She pulled a tablet out of her bag, switched it on and opened the video player.
“There is still a big pile of Fat Freds boots I need to deal with – I'll try to use the time, but of course I am at your disposal, should there be any question.”

She starts the video, and there is that really fat and ugly guy from the punishment chow lids. He stands in the superlative of a bachelor shanty, untidy, dirty, full of garbage. He opens up his fridge and is greeted by a really horrid interior, different stages of mildew on all surfaces, dirt, smears.

He rummages through the fridge, several obnoxious contents are falling out. He shouts: “Hungry! Wanna EAT!” he sticks his whole forearms into the fridge and wipes everything down to a big pile on the floor. The camera turns around and shows two dirty, young slavegirls, kneeling on the floor with lowered eyes and their hands bound on their backs. Their ears are nearly glowing and you can almost grip their shame. Then there is that fat arm, smeared with the loathsome masses it just wiped down to the floor. His pinkie points to the right slave, and she begins to recite:

'No fresh dish in Fat Freds fridge made Fat Fred mad so Fat Fred force-fed Fat Freds Fridge'.

The pinkie swings to the other slave, who recites the sentence, then back to the right, and then a last time to the left, who makes a mistake. Instantly the hand grips the slavegirl by her hairs, pulls her up and throws her face forward into the pile of moldy garbage while she helplessly flails with her bound hands.

The movie freezes, and the pile of garbage shrinks to a small block of a translucent green, moldy-furred mass pervaded with different abominations, bugs and grubs and some other things nobody really wants to know. The block gets packaged, and on the lid there is the smiling Fat Fred again, pushing the naked slavegirl in that pile directly in front of the fridge.

'Fat Freds Fridge' says the label, and the striped banderole with PUNISHMENT written on it flies into view, nestling onto the sides. A voice out of the off announces: 'Teach your slave domestic discipline. No fresh dish in your fridge? Feed'm Fat Freds Fridge – a only one time lesson to teach. Your slave does not meet your expectations in other chores? Try Fat Freds Floor' other packages were flying into the picture, 'Fat Freds Laundry or Fat Freds Forgotten Garbage, aaand of course Fat Fred Cooks Himself' the video blinked once, the different boxes vanished, the pile was back and then everything came alive again.

Fat Fred tossed the slavegirl away, pulled a smeary pan out of the sink, pounded it on a stove in matching hygienic condition. He powered on the stove and grabbed some handfulls of the pile in front of the fridge, flinging them into the pan. Different colored vapors were rising, then there was a smoke alarm quietly and sadly squeaking through a thick coating of filth. Fat Fred grabs a plate out of the dirty dishes, tilting the smoking, burned, loathsome mass onto it and passes it directly into camera, grinning and saying: “A well served dish!”

The announcer continues: 'You are dissatisfied with what your slave is cooking? Invite to a dinner Fat Fred style. You may also purchase Fat Freds 4 for 24' another package was flying into view, but this ripped up into four different, separated parts, 'and guarantee your slave a 24 hour nonstop lesson by feeding in intervals. And last but not least, there is of course - ' the monitor went dark, then there was out of a blur a really dirty tiled wall with a matching smeared bathtub in the lower half of the video.
The camera panned to the right and chalky, dirty fittings and an indescribable repugnant shower curtain came into view, then there was a thundering fart and there came Fat Fred throning on an old toilet, holding in his hand a big poster titled 'Fat Freds sleazy spa', showing exactly the scene in the video.
Thankfully there was only his sweating, grinning face, shirted arms, lowered flat pants, hairy shins and his knees. And of course the various unspeakable sprinkles and splashes around the dirty toilet. The announcer finished the video: 'Fat Freds sleazy spa!'.

Both men stared at the monitor until they got knocked out of trance by the retching of Miss Vernor finishing her punishment chow: “Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you.”

Mr. Braclav cleared his throat, and began questioning: “And that one block will satiate you for 24 hours?”
“Our meals for patients differ, we have some even prolonging to 48 hours, for example for patients with swallowing agonies. There are also 6 and 12 hour roundups of different textured and flavored products to allow a daily 3-meal routine. And as I said there is some buffer included.
A standard slave chow block nourishes 24 hours by average work load for an average slave, but will also suffice for harder work or a bigger slave. Greater aberrations should be calculated individually.

We add some unproblematic dietary fibers in our non-slave food to achieve satiation.
Our slave line just appeases the slaves hunger, but never give them the feeling that you have had enough.
The blocks I have here are promotional blocks, containing only a fraction of the usual ingredients. They will suffice for a couple of hours, max. But I am sure I won't feel the desire for eat for a longer time – good for the figure.”

“I admire your wicked sense for business, but I am still convinced that you should not be allowed to try this completely untested chemicals at your slaves. You cannot stir together whatever you find interesting in your lab and put your slaves on an exclusive diet. How will you know if your recipe will yield enough nutrition, or as you mentioned your colon will not simply die out of boredom. Maybe there are some vitamins that just don't get absorbed correctly.
And you are mixing up chemicals in a new combination and force them down a slaves throat, untested they could, let's be creative, even form explosives in combination with stomach acid. The possibility to dismiss a slave court complaint was made to protect slave owners from whiny slaves trying to wiggle out of their enslavement by flooding the court with imaginary or conceited complaints until their owners give up and release them out of exasperation. And while I agree that slave D7 may be a little whiny, feeding her your untested masses, even if it may be a pretty genius idea to discipline slaves, simply demands a full trial.”

Miss Vernor subdued a burp and again grimaced, then she spoke up clearly:
“I never fed anyone else anything completely untested. I accompanied the development of the mass itself, the different flavors and aromas that have been designed, and every product was at least tested once by myself. The complete slave specific production line with cum flavor and the complete punishment line was created by myself personally, I only had help to, let's say, 'distill' the aroma we wished to create out of our raw materials. Every product was ingested several times by myself. So this is not the first time I had to taste Fat Freds boots, actually I spent weeks with the flavor torturing my mouth.

Of course I had help with different tests, especially everything with longer lasting effects, but these are all done by volunteers, well paid volunteers to be precise. I guarantee that every test on a slave has only happened after a rigorous testing by myself and my volunteers. We even have volunteers that are spending time under 'slave conditions' – meaning they are using the 'applied science slave-transformation resemblance act'.

We keep them under at least comparable strict conditions as our real slaves and try out our new products on them. We are all of the opinion that is the only way to create credible slave chow. We needed the experience to create cum flavor, as there is no way to get it right when you are not constantly sucking dicks. We needed to balance it right, enough to be clearly discernible as cum but not too much, so that real cum still has an impact.

And of course especially our punishment line demanded real slave conditions. Imagine I hang my lab coat on a hook and stroll down to our canteen, have a nice little lunch in my break time, maybe some coffee to get fit again, and of course some time in a massage chair while sun bathing on our balcony. After that I take a small bit of our punishment chow with our mouthwash nearby, and try to decide if it is awful enough to discipline a slave that is also bathing in the sun while he works in the fields, gets constantly whipped or otherwise beaten, at best only interrupted by quick fucks. Sweaty, worked out and in pain, maybe on horny juice and full of slave stink – I don't think the definition of punishment would be comparable. And I am sure our 'working boots flavor' would not be the same it is now if we just relied on lab coats!”

Mr. Braclav and the judge looked dumbfounded. The judge found back his ability to question first:
“You are creating the flavors yourself? And you really have some volunteers under the ASSTR act?” Mr Braclav looked irritated, while the judge continued: ”No need to be ashamed, it is that new and extremely rare, I am not sure if even every slave judge knows about it. If necessary for applied science, like in your case for product development, you are able to split your legal person into two parts, one goes dormant containing everything you own, including all your civil rights, and leaves you with just your 'enslaved personality' – making you a fully legal slave. I agree it seems like it was invented for a company like yours, it was a manufacturer of slave equipment that originally fought it through. They wanted to test different kinds of long-term restraints and alike, and they didn't want to rely on the honesty of slaves.

But you need to fulfill a whole bunch of requirements, you need a legal custodian, and that has to be the one doing the applied science. You need to spent a minimum time as slave, but you may interrupt if necessary for the progress of the project, giving you your old personality back for a limited time. And there is the completed project clause, meaning you have to either complete your project or it has to be abandoned, otherwise you could stay a slave indefinitely.
Abandoning a project is likewise no quick release, you will get a failed project penalty time. Usually 2 years minus half the time already served as slave, citizen time does not count, but at least one year, and you get sold at a standard slave market.
It had to be pretty strict to prevent some wannabes letting out their inner slave whenever they want with the chance to return to full citizenship in an instant. You must have very determined volunteers at your side, Miss Vernor, this is pretty serious. Misconduct you normally just pay a fine might put a real collar around their necks much faster than they anticipated while in slave condition!”

The judge sat back, satisfied with his display of expertise.

Miss Vernor put down the spoon she had used to gesticulate, and produced two different containers out of her bag:
“Yes, I designed every single flavor myself or, for some of our 'normal' flavors, I had a leading function in the design process. Every flavor we produce was personally tested and tasted by myself. Especially our punishment line demanded strict dedication, and I reached my personal limits multiple times only to find them stretched out as I thought I can not move on further.

The first person every finished punishment chow was punishing under real conditions was me, even if I had help in the designing process. But whenever I thought a product was ready for production I obligated myself to the whole experience over the full time with no shortcuts like our mouthwash. I owe that every punished slave, and even more every punishing owner that counts on my promise to really drive home his point.

That boot flavor still lingering in my mouth is not the most punishing flavor we are currently developing, I personally feel a terrifying choking execration for 'Fat Freds Fridge'. And when I open a container of that loathsome mass I expect that the slave I feed it feels in some way alike – it doesn't need to be fully equal, tastes are different, but close to my own revulsion.

And I am very proud about my volunteers. It is their determination that allows our business to flourish. Until now we never abandoned a project, and I really hope we don't need to. If you want I can show you some videos showing the testing conditions. Maybe we start with a short video with D7 in background? If she was whining of her conditions you may even have heard what happened, Mr. Braclav. It is just some days before the incident happened...”

Interesting! Liking this story!