Slave Parade, Part One

[imreadonly2]

A quick story, inspired by the reader who asked to hear more about slave parades. If anyone wants to continue, please feel free.

I was having a wonderful dream about being the youngest partner at my CPA firm when my mother woke me up, and introduced me to the harsh reality of my day.

“Rise and shine, honey,” my mother said in a sing song manner, gently wigging my nose. My eyes popped open. Mom was seated on the edge of my bed, and was smiling. Behind her, Gash, the Pleasure Slut my dad had brought my horny brother as a present for his 18th birthday, stood behind her, wearing MY clothes.

“Those are my work clothes!” I said angrily. “Why is that disgusting slut wearing my things?”

“It’s the Festival of Slaves, sweetie. She gets to dress up. And you get to dress down,” she added, wiggling my nose again.

“Mom. This is ridiculous. I’m 23-years-old. I’m a professional woman. I can’t parade-and-down the street naked! Everyone will see me.”

“That’s the point, sweetie. On the Festival of Slaves, the slave girls get to be free, and the free women in the house get to be slave girls. We have one free slave, so we offer up one free woman in exchange. And I chose YOU,” she said.

“This is so humiliating!” I said, gritting my teeth.

“It’s supposed to be. It will probably be good for you. You’ve gotten quite a head of steam, now that you’re working at that fancy accounting firm while you’re finishing up your Masters. Well, you’re not a CPA yet, and you’re living in my house, with my rules. So rise and shine!”

My mom pulled back the covers, revealing my sleepwear, my long University of Austin T-shirt.

“It’s cold!” I protested.

“You’re going to get a lot colder in a second,” Mom said. “Now kneel down, so Carlotta can put your collar on you.”

“Who the fuck is Carlotta?” I said.

“Gash wants to be called Carlotta, for today,” she said. “She’ll decided your slave name when she snaps you into the coffle, for your parade. She’s enrolled you in the 10K,” she added cheerfully.

“That’s 6 miles. Trotting six miles, buck naked, with everyone hooting at me. All the guys at work will be there, and it runs through campus town, too.”

“Yes, dear, I know. Maybe you should have just cleaned your room when I told you, instead of telling Gash to do it. Now kneel down, so she can collar you.”

“Mom!” I said.

My mom picked up the riding crop / slave whip I had bought my little brother, partially as a gift, but mostly because I despised Gash, and everything she stood for.

"Taylor Anne Rebeca Johnson, you get down on your knees right now!" my mom said, in a voice that brooked no contradictions.

I got down on my knees in front of Gash, who looked quite smart in my tailored gray business suit.

Raising my long blonde hair I offered her my neck. “I beg for your collar, Mistress.”

I winced as the electric goads bit into my neck as “Carlotta” closed the collar around my throat.

“It’s too tight!” I said.

“Carlotta resized it for you. Wasn’t that nice of her? I’ll leave you to girls to get ready. I’m going downtown with my friends for lunch. They have their daughters running too, and I want to make sure we have a good spot for the parade, and then 10K.”

Mom closed the door, cutting me off from any further chance to complain. Carlotta, being a couple of inches taller than me, and a lithesome, irresistible pleasure slut, looked better than I did, wearing my suit.

“You can burn my underwear when you’re done with it. I don’t want my brother’s and my father’s spluge leaking into my panties.”

The Pleasure Slut was supposed to be for my bro, but Dad used her to. Mom pretended not to notice, but I think she was secretly relieved that the my dad had a slut on call to do all the more degrading sex acts she didn’t want to do.

Carlotta looked down on me, her eyes gleaming, her feet spread apart, tapping the crop impatiently against her thigh. “On your feet, slave girl,” Carlotta said. “Time to see if your worthy to wear my collar.”

I got out of bed, standing before her. She smiled, pleased that I had obeyed her command.

“University of Austin,” she said, tracing the longhorn steer on my orange shirt with the tip of the crop. My nipples hardened as the crop ran over them. “Steers and queers? Are you a queer, slave girl? Because you don’t look like a steer, although your flat enough to be a boy.”

“I’m not gay, if that’s what you mean,” I said.

Carlotta laughed. “That doesn’t mean you can’t lick my pussy. Take off the college shirt, slut. Slave girls don’t have college degrees.”

Glaring at her, I pulled my shirt over my head. Hands over my breasts, I stood before her in my blue panties.

“Boy briefs, huh?” she said critically. “Appropriate, given how small your tits are. At least they won’t bounce so much when you run. Get rid of the pussy covers. Time for a little bit of show and tell,” she added, smiling.

I pulled off my panties, placing them next to my nightshirt on the bed.

“Position,” she said sharply. “Come on, don’t go all the slave stupid on me. You know the drill.”

I spread my legs and put my hands on my head as Carlotta, using her whip to trace and tap my body, did a slow, appraising 360 turn around me.

“Not bad,” she said. “You’ll get a good price in the Any Chance? Auction today.”

“No way Dad is going to do that,” I shot back.

“We’ll see,” she said enigmatically. “But we are going to have to get rid of that rat’s nest,” she said, tapping the tip of my crop with her pubes.

“You can’t touch me there,” I shot back. “I’ll tell Mom!”

Grabbing me, Carlotta pulled me into her, forcing her tongue into my mouth and her hands between my leg. She was stronger than me, and holding a slave whip, so I didn’t resist her tongue, or her knowing fingers. Damn, if she didn’t know just how to touch me!”

“Oooh, getting hot and bothered already? You are a natural for the collar. What did you grade at, slut?”

“None of your fucking business, slave girl,” I shot back, pushing her away. “I am going to skin your ass when this weekend is over, Pleasure Slut.”

“Assuming you can,” she said, smiling. I’ve seen you through the keyhole, practicing slave yoga when you think no one can see you. I’ve smelled your scent in my kennel, and on my vibrator. So you like to play slave girl? I’m going to make all your dreams come true. You’re mine until Sunday at midnight, which is more time than I need to show the world what you really are.”

Carlotta smiled as she put the crop between my legs. “We’ll start by shaving that snatch of yours. We’re going to get it all smooth and bare and ready for sale.”

“Fine,” I said, groaning as I danced on her fingers. “I’ll take a shower.”

“A shower’s a good idea. We need to wash all that expensive perfume off you. Then we’re going to go to work on the hot snatch of yours. I’m going to get it all hot, and wet, so everyone can smell your slave stink as you run through town.”

She pushed me away as I was about to come. “Good. Five minutes since you were collared, and you almost had your first slave-gasm. Daddy’s little girl, slave wet and rubbing her snatch, up on the block.”

Glaring at her, I started walking toward the shower, only to be rewarded with a sharp blow from the crop across my bottom as Carlotta grabbed me by the ear.

“Slave girls don’t use the bathroom, stupid. The neighbors are getting some of the dogs and cats scrubbed up for the parade, along with the slave girls. We’ll get you cleaned up there.”

Before I knew it, I was heading out my front door stark naked, wondering which of my horny male neighbors would be hosting my scrub down and pussy shave.

[Carl Bradford]

I knew that Joe was well educated--this story seems to re-invent the Roman festival of Saturnalia, when slaves got to trade places with owners for a day. Great idea!

[Hooked6]

“Those are my work clothes!” I said angrily. “Why is that disgusting slut wearing my things?”

“It’s the Festival of Slaves, sweetie. She gets to dress up. And you get to dress down,” she added, wiggling my nose again.

“Mom. This is ridiculous. I’m 23-years-old. I’m a professional woman. I can’t parade-and-down the street naked! Everyone will see me.”

I LOVE the idea - so many possibilities to allow the mind to ponder upon. I know you gave an open invitation to others to continue and run with this idea but, perhaps we might persuade you (gentle nudge) to add a wee bit more? I know, I know, you are right. I AM a greedy fan.

Hooked6

[Hooked6]

I knew that Joe was well educated--this story seems to re-invent the Roman festival of Saturnalia, when slaves got to trade places with owners for a day. Great idea!

Saturnalia! That's the name I was trying to recall. Thanks Carl. It was driving me nuts trying to think of it. Too bad this holiday took place in Rome on the 17th of December - Darn, such a cold time of year. Perhaps Joe might define this modern twist of the Slave Parade by merging with it the Greek holiday of Kronia, which occurred in late summer rather than mid-December which is much more conducive to naked slaves. In either case, great stuff!

Hooked6

[Belinda]

What a marvelous story. Can't wait for future installments. You are the best and my favorite author.

Belinda

[jeepster]

Awesome Joe! That's exactly what I was hoping to see. A successful free woman ,like Sarah, put on slave parade!

[Johnny Lawrence]

I think it’s interesting that so many families are willing to put their daughters up for slavery, even with an Any Chance Auction or some weekend festival.

I wonder how many of these girls are big financial drains on their families, and they see slavery as a way of getting out of that burden? Or perhaps it hits you one day that your 23 year old daughter is a spoiled, selfish brat who could use a lesson in humility. You saw how your neighbor’s kid changed after a few years of enslavement. She went from a completely intolerable bitch to a well-behaved young woman, and all it took was a 5 year enslavement.

I don’t know, it seems like generally upper middle class and above families who have these problems.

[imreadonly2]

I think it’s interesting that so many families are willing to put their daughters up for slavery, even with an Any Chance Auction or some weekend festival.

I wonder how many of these girls are big financial drains on their families, and they see slavery as a way of getting out of that burden? Or perhaps it hits you one day that your 23 year old daughter is a spoiled, selfish brat who could use a lesson in humility. You saw how your neighbor’s kid changed after a few years of enslavement. She went from a completely intolerable bitch to a well-behaved young woman, and all it took was a 5 year enslavement.

That's an interesting observation, Johnny, and it makes sense given rising college costs that more than few parents might decide to turn a fast $ on their entitled feminist daughters. In the Brady Bunch, would Jan truly be missed, or might Jan arrange for Marsha, Marsha, Marsha to be sold to help pay for Gregg's education? Certainly Alex Keaton wouldn't hesitate to sell Mallory, if circumstances permitted.

I'm glad you like the Roman festival, and I've been getting quite a bit of inspiration from the past, recently. There may soon be some more femina servus stories in the near future, with some interesting twists on then, I hope!

Thank you for the encouragement, Belinda. You are one of my favorite commentators!