Tracey's Halloween Slave Costume - Part 1

[katamaran789]

Tracey’s Halloween Slave Costume
By: Hooked6

Copyright October, 2020 by Hooked6 (Hooked6@hotmail.com) all rights reserved. Reproduction, redistribution, reposting on another Internet site whether or not a charge or profit is made is forbidden without the expressed written consent of the author. Copyright ownership does not transfer by the posting of this material on this site by the author. The following story is for ADULTS only. By accessing this story, the reader hereby certifies that he/she is of an appropriate age to access adult material and that such material is permitted in the locality or country where the reader resides. The following is a creative work of fiction, and the characters or incidents described do not resemble any persons or events in the real world. Comments are always welcome and serve to inspire my work.

Tracey’s Halloween Slave Costume – Part 1
By: Hooked6 (Modern Slavery, Exhibitionism, Bondage, Long)

Author’s Note: the following story was inspired by and as a result of an general idea by Orflash, who has constantly amazed me by the depth of his creative (some might say warped) mind. Though I tried to pretty much follow his outline for his story idea, I did deviate at times, leaving out certain parts that I had a difficult time incorporating into to the plot and adding other things that my own warped mind kept pestering me to include. I did try to remain faithful to the basic concept of his brilliant story overview, however. I was a bit confused by the whole multiple authors concept and was distracted by my own creative Muse to put her ideas down in text that I hope I didn’t intrude or screw up his ideas for this project. With apologies to Orlfash, I present the following:

******

Well, where do I start? I am sitting completely naked in a cage surrounded by hundreds of people that I do not know in a country that I’ve have never visited all as a result of a coworker’s imbecilic ineptitude. If I ever get out of this situation, I think I might just have to make her disappear, like for good!

My name is Tracey Smith and I am, no, make that was, no . . . I am STILL – I think - a Senior Oil Lease Drafter for a large energy conglomerate out of the U.K. In my department I am responsible for 30 employees who work fairly closely with me to dot all the “I’s” and cross all the “T’s” in drafting and executing energy contracts including all legal necessities across multiple countries that my firm does business with. A simple mistake from my department can cost my company untold millions. It is a stressful job requiring lots of international travel, long hours and a demanding schedule that often leaves me and many of my key subordinates with little or no social life. It has often been said that I don’t have a boyfriend because I am married to my job and to my own ambition. That’s true, I suppose.

Still, we are all paid well. In today’s economy that’s something I suppose, but I am getting off track.

I have to travel to many parts of the dark continent - Africa – because many of the oil laden countries we deal with are in that continent. I also travel to the U.S. where a new type of drilling is popular called fracking has unleashed new sources of oil. Though the process is controversial, oil is oil and our nation needs reliable supplies to protect its sovereignty until new forms of energy become cost effective and dependable.

Upon returning to the U.K. from one such trip abroad, I came to the office to find several of my key people in a lively discussion about some book they have all been reading.

I walked over intending to chastise them for wasting company time by sarcastically asking them what book they were talking about, as if I cared, and was surprised by the level of excitement in the answer I received from Emily Johnson, my Senior Contract Analyst and right hand go-to person. I suppose she might take over this department when and if I am ever promoted to Vice-President. Like me, she is in her early twenties with a degree in International law and has been very supportive of my goals. Truth be told she makes me look good. Though I am the most visible person to senior management from this department, she does all the behind the scenes work that is tedious and time consuming.

“Oh Tracey, have you read the new book by Kathryn Jones, entitled, My Life as a Slave in Zonga? It is riveting! None of us can put it down!”

Zonga is an oil rich country in the African Continent where slavery has been made legal. In fact, it is the only country that I am aware of where a woman can be enslaved by various means either by her own actions, a court order for some criminal act or merely sold into slavery by her husband, her parents or by a bank to satisfy a debt. At least that is my understanding of what little I know of it. I have heard it said that in Zonga, even a free woman is treated as third-class citizen with few rights common in many countries of the world. Personally, I find that a little hard to believe in this day and age and many of the rumors about women in Zonga most certainly have been exaggerated – probably to sell books like this one by Ms. Jones here. I certainly don’t have time to waste on such nonsense. “No, Emily, I’m afraid I haven’t read it.”

“OH, BUT YOU MUST,” exclaimed Ashley Barnes, another key person in my department.

“Yeah? What makes this book so special anyway?” I asked indifferently.

The girls all looked at each other with knowing looks, giggled together like a bunch of school girls as they all looked at the floor seemingly too embarrassed to answer my question.

“You’re probably right,” Emily said changing her tune, “I doubt that you’d be interested.”

“Oh REALLY? Why is that?” She was probably correct in her assessment but I was a little miffed that she came to that conclusion in such a condescending manner as if she was purposely leaving me out of a secret that they all apparently shared. I HATED being excluded.

The girls all looked at each other again then laughed all the louder, none of them willing to address my query which pissed me off all the more. I grabbed the book and studied the cover which was rather risqué showing a woman barely dressed wearing a collar and a leash with a pleading, no make that with a burning look on her face as if she desperately wanted something. “Yeah, her freedom,” I silently chuckled to myself.

Then I saw the tag line underneath the title that said, “The unbelievable true story of one woman’s enslavement in a foreign country. Read her own words as recounts her experiences.” True story, eh? Okay, that piqued my interest as I studied the book again before my professionalism got the best of me.

My hard ass business persona took over and I blurted out rather forcefully, “You all stop this nonsense. You are supposed to be on the clock getting paid to make this company more profitable by completing the assignments I gave you last week. I KNOW you aren’t anywhere near finished so get back to work. We’ll have no more of this foolishness on company time. Is that CLEAR?” I snapped as I tossed the book onto the desk in front of me.

“Yes ma’am,” they all replied with about as much enthusiasm as a person who was just told she was going to have a root canal.

Okay, I’ll confess that people skills are not one of my strong points but I’m not paid to be everybody’s friend. I have to keep everyone on task and, well darn it, they hurt my feelings so they had it coming, didn’t they?

Later that day Emily came to my office to drop off some papers without saying a word. I think I surprised her by calling out as she was about to leave, “Got a minute, Emily?”

She sighed with disinterest, “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“So um, what makes this book you all were taking about so interesting, anyway?”

Hearing my question, her face lit up with excitement and she started talking a mile-a-minute as if she couldn’t wait to tell me all about it. “It’s about a British woman who was on her way back to England from a two-week holiday when the plane developed engine trouble which only got worse as they went on. The closest airport was in Zonga and the pilot decided he had to make an emergency landing there as he was afraid to risk the lives of the passengers and crew by trying to go farther. You know, Tracey, slavery really exists in Zonga, did you know that?”

“Yeah, I knew that. I DO get around, you know.”

“Well I don’t want to spoil the plot for you but this lady, Kathrine Jones, Katie they call her, ends up getting herself enslaved and spends over a year trying to make her way back to freedom! Honestly the book kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. I couldn’t put it down. You should really give it a try. You can borrow my copy of you want. It is REALLY hot stuff, if you know what I mean. It will keep your fingers busy for hours!” she said giggling.

“EMILY!” I said feigning indignation.

“Oh sorry. I shouldn’t have said that last part.”

“Yes, well . . . you’d best get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” she said and left my office with a smile on her face.

Later that night I stopped by a Border’s Book store and picked up a copy to read myself. The clerk had a wry smile on his face when he scanned the book before putting into the bag with my receipt. There really must be something to this slavery business judging by the way people react when the book is seen or referred to by others.

**********

The next morning I was tired. That stupid book was so engaging I stayed up to 2:30 in the morning before I finally put it down and tried to get to sleep but erotic thoughts kept invading my mind and I fingered myself to orgasm at least three times! Even then I wanted more but I knew I HAD to try and get some sleep as I had to be at work by 8 am and the cock . . . I mean the CLOCK on my bedside table was nagging me that it was already 4 in the morning.

When the alarm went off, I swore that I had only just fallen asleep. It couldn’t be time to get up already, could it? I dragged myself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I looked a right mess.

The shower was refreshing and I truly wanted my fingers to linger some more at my little man in the canoe (my clit, for you guys who never heard of that reference before) but duty kept calling me so I finished up got dressed and went to work.

Upon arrival my secretary, Kim, informed me that the senior vice-president, Mr. Chambers, wanted to see me right away. She had no idea what it was about. Great, I thought, of all days for him to see me like this. I only hoped I didn’t l look like I felt!

*********


“Hello Tracey. Mr. Johnson is expecting you. Go right in,” his secretary said without a hint of whether I was in trouble or not. Amy was all heart and I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible. Sometimes I wondered if she enjoyed her position of power, knowing many things that others weren’t privileged to know and relishing the fact that secrets were meant to be exploited whenever possible. We always got along but there was no mistaking the fact that she lorded her informal power over people whenever she could – sometimes in subtle ways, sometimes not so subtle. Now that I think of it, she’s not much different than me! Maybe that’s why we seemed to get along so well; we were both aware of the danger of crossing the other.

I knocked on the door and went in without waiting for a reply. “Ah, Tracey, thanks for coming in so promptly. Have a seat, won’t you? This won’t take long.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Chambers?”

“I have been asked by our President to talk to you about your attitude. It seems there have been some complaints from your staff and other department heads that they find you impersonal and difficult to work with.”

His words cut me to the quick. I was shocked and humiliated. The last people in this company that I wanted to think I was difficult to work with was senior management. “But Mr. Chambers, I have always given my absolute best to this company often giving my time well above what is expected. I live and breathe this company and its objectives. My department and I have always managed to perform and achieve the goals set out for us by the company – even when those goals were often unfair or seemingly unachievable. I produce results . . .”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Tracy,” he said interrupting me. “I don’t think anyone is doubting your performance or your dedication. Many in senior management have had our eyes on you for bigger things. But I must tell you that in order for that to happen your interpersonal skills HAVE to improve. You see, Tracey, your department runs on people. You have been blessed with some very fine talent supporting you but if they are dissatisfied with their leader – YOU, Tracey, my dear - well they might begin looking around and leave the company and we can’t have that can we?”

“But . . . I don’t understand. I’m not mean or unfair to my people. I don’t ask anything of them that I don’t ask of myself.”

“THAT’S the problem right there. You are all work, no play. People see you as a one-dimensional person with no personal life. Your entire existence revolves around the company. I know you think that’s a good thing but, trust me, it’s not. The company has needs, that’s true, but so do your people. You push them too hard. You go by the book 100% of the time. They have lives, personal lives outside of work and that’s important to them. They have families, boyfriends, kids who get sick. They look forward to doing things like attending parties or going out with friends. Tell me Tracey, have you ever been invited to do things with your team?”

“You mean fraternize with subordinates outside of work? I didn’t think that was appropriate.”

“No, it isn’t in certain circumstances. But you are misunderstanding what I am trying to tell you. Most people don’t think of you as a real person. To them you are just a robot with no feelings, no emotions, no soul as it were. And, furthermore, you treat others like robots too and, well, that’s got to change if you want to get anywhere in this organization.”

“I . . . don’t understand . . .”

“I know you don’t so let me put it this way, I want you to get a life, Tracey. Let your hair down. In other words, I want you to start by letting others see a more personal, more fun side of you. Get involved in things that your employees find interesting. Engage them in things that they are talking about. Join them for lunch and converse about things like their favorite music or movies they’ve seen or heck, even books they are reading. Get involved in the little things that they are excited about.”

“Well, I’ll try but I am not much on socializing. I don’t like it but I’ll see what I can do with your suggestion.”

“Your still not hearing me, Tracey. This is not a suggestion; it’s an order. Got it? I want to see and hear about you doing interpersonal things, social things that help you fit into what your team likes and is important to them. If you don’t know what they like, make it your business to learn. Start with your team and expand that to other departments when you can. If you can’t manage to do that, I don’t see a future for you here much longer. Make it happen. I want to see evidence of this soon, VERY soon. I will follow up with you in a few days. That’s all. You can return to your work, Ms. Smith.”

“But Mr. Chambers . . .”

“That will be all, Ms. Smith.”

I reluctantly got up from my chair and turned to leave. What a stupid suggestion. He can’t be right, can he? Am I just a one-dimensional person?

As I passed Amy’s desk, I couldn’t help noticing that wry smile she had plastered on her face and that twinkle in her eyes that said she now knew she had something on me. I would have to watch out for her.

*********

That night I wracked my brain over the conversation I had had with Mr. Chambers. If I was honest, I guess he was right. I probably am all work, no play. But what did I have in common with the people I work with? Nothing, that’s what. I don’t party. I am not into music or the latest Hollywood scandals. I could care less. Fact is, I guess I had better start caring about stupid stuff like that if I wanted to keep my job. Suddenly, I hated my job.

I kept up these mental gymnastics for several hours before decided just to forget about it and take my shower and go to bed. Finishing my nightly ablutions, I spotted that Katheryn Jones book on my nightstand and began to feel a twinge between my legs. That was just what I needed after the crappy day I had just experienced. I slipped off my panties, put my fingers of my right hand between my legs, grabbed the book and started reading where I had left off, letting my mind wander to thoughts erotic and the world of slavery and sex.

“THAT’S IT!” I shouted suddenly, dropping the book on my belly. This book; there’s a way to start doing what Mr. Chambers demanded of me! I am reading it and I like it. The girls are ALL talking about it and they even invited me into their conversation about it before I slammed the door shut on their overture. I can use this book to ease my way into something that they are involved in. It was also something I could say I was doing to Mr. Chambers – talking about a book that my team was excited about. He didn’t have to know what book exactly but I can tell him about the times we all talked about it. It was a start anyway.

With my mind free from worry I started reading about Katie Jones and her being led through a town naked as the day she was born, collar on her neck being forcibly dragged along by a leash by a shirtless, sweaty, muscular guy as the townspeople all glared at her. They could see EVERYTHING SHE HAD and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

I came at least 4 times reading that chapter. Damn, this was a good book!

I couldn’t wait to share this book with Emily, Ashley and the other girls at work tomorrow. Of course, I would have to bring the book to work to prove to them that I had actually bought my own copy. Still, little steps lead to bigger ones, I’ve always said.

Things are looking up.

Chapter 2 to follow

[orflash64]

Well I'm glad someone took my story suggestion serious, although slightly diverting from the story line.
I came with the multiply authors to try and get Katie's readers involved. She's very serious about shutting down her Google Group story site. I'm afraid that might still happen if I can't get the members involved in something.
Seriously there's only about ten people who write or comment there. I hate to see it all go away.

Good start, lots of detail. You made one error, the Secretary called him Mr. Jones, then Tracey called him Mr. Chambers.
Are you going to employ the high tech collar into the story. I know, I have a fetish about Smart Shock Collars. Every since I read Peter Leviticus ' Her New World, I just love the idea of a device women are trapped by and must obey or get zapped if they don't swallow or spread their legs on command.

I also love the idea that slave role playing or being for real isn't her idea but a means to a end or accidental incident, but deep down she is so horny for it and enjoying it.
I'm looking forward to the next chapter.
Well down padawan, you don't know the power of the Dark Side of my imagination.
I have many more story ideas. Just don't have the patients to write them myself.

[automagix12]

Thumb / hand up for the "Smart Shock Collar" idea.