Liz Enslaved: Rug Pull
By Annie
Author's notes:
This is a direct sequel to "
Coffee With Blushes
", my first story on Literotica. It's probably understandable without reading "Coffee", but you'll get more out of it if you do.
This story takes inspiration from Carl Bradford's "
Going Around to Cum Around
", but goes in a very different direction.
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Darkness. The cage rocked from side to side, bouncing her off the chicken wire. With her hands zip-tied behind her, she couldn't protect her head. Sound of an electric motor--was a fork lift moving her?
The cage suddenly dropped, Slam!, hitting the ground hard enough to hurt her knees. The cloth cover was whipped off her cage. The room was very brightly lit. She blinked and squinted.
That's on purpose. They keep us in darkness, then maximize glare. Keep us off balance, keep us intimidated.
Naked (
slave naked
, her mind whispered), she was now exposed to everyone around. The bright light blinded her dark-adjusted eyes.
She heard, but could hardly see, the cage door being removed. "3349, crawl forward to the line and Present!"
Present, that's one of the standard slave positions. I think I remember from Slave Yoga. Knees apart and OH CRAP I'M 3349 "Yes, Ma--"
She had waited too long to acknowledge the order, and she felt a light touch on her back, right between the shoulder blades
it's the electric prod!
, followed by agony and muscle spasms and the feel of her nose hitting the cage bottom as she lost control of her movements. A distant, rational part of her was thinking
At least my head was already close to the ground. No concussion
. Most of her was shrieking, then moaning. The cage was so small she couldn't fall over, she was still balanced on her knees. She could feel warm wetness running down her leg.
I just pissed myself
. The slave wrangler, who she still hadn't seen, said, "Too slow, 3349. You are required to acknowledge and obey all orders immediately, not when you happen to feel like it." His voice wasn't excited or angry or even harsh. It was borderline bored.
Liz managed to choke out a strangled, "Y-y-yes, Master." She struggled out of the cage, and then had to move toward a line on the floor with muscles that didn't want to obey. It was only six feet. Walking, less than a second. On her knees, hands bound behind, in pain, and near-panic, it felt like hours. Her long, thin light-brown hair hung in individual strands over her shoulders, half in front and half down her back. It was strangely frustrating not to be able to fix it. She had to look a fright.
Not that I was ever a prize.
Freckles on very pale skin, small breasts, thin lips. A few back acne scars, just to add some extra self-consciousness now that she was naked.
There was a slave girl to her right. She struggled to kneel in Present position correctly, wishing Mrs. Olds was there to help.
If I make it through this, I should let Mrs. Olds know the Slave Yoga course wasn't a compulsory waste of my time. Did I just think "if" I make it? I'm really terrified. Deep breaths, Liz.
Even thinking of herself as "Liz" was defiance. She was 010-541-3349 until her owner assigned her a name. Dangerous. She had to seem perfect.
She didn't get punished for her Present kneel, at least. Another slave crawled to the line at her left, and was ordered into position. She did the "Yes, Master" thing perfectly. Liz could hear one more slave ordered out of her cage and lined up. Keeping her head and eyes facing forward perfectly, she was barely aware of the slaves on either side. She was getting goosebumps, naked in this... warehouse? She kept her eyes on the floor. Meeting a master's eyes could be dangerous.
A tall, muscular, light-skinned Black woman with her hair in a in a startling purple mohawk
no, look down, not at their faces!
walked out in front of them and recited, "This is the Circle-Q Trading Post, a division of Quarry Enterprises. We are a licensed slave training and auction business. You will be processed and trained here for sale as domestic or pleasure slaves. Your collars can deliver electric shocks, which can be anything in between very painful and knock-you-to-the-ground-screaming painful. If you attempt to leave the building without permission, the collar will incapacitate you and sound an alarm. You are now slaves. You do not have the right to disobey any order or rule. Our staff can and will administer punishments including electric shock, whips, and starvation in cases of disobedience. If you follow instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?"
All the slaves made a rough chorus of "Yes, Mistress." Liz hoped no one noticed that she had been slightly late on the "Mistress" part.
To her right the man who had shocked her said, "Open." He sounded bored. This was just a day for him, and probably the worst day in the lives of all the kneeling women. "Yes, Master" and then a hissing noise. Same routine for the woman on her right, then "Open" to Liz as well. The wrangler was holding a spray can with a hose on it, like a tire inflator, with the nozzle right in front of her mouth. Trembling, she said in a shaky voice, "Yes, Master" and left her mouth open. Nozzle between her teeth, then that hiss. The spray was cold and left a tingling sensation in her mouth and throat. As soon as he was done, the man moved on to her right.
That's DeVox. I knew this would happen, and I'm so scared I'd wet myself, if I didn't already do that.
Another wrangler was doing something to her right, now, as the man finished with the last slave in line. "Hold still." Purple Mohawk's voice. Of course, the slave could no longer say, "Yes, Mistress." She was devoiced. Depending on the drug concentration and the dose, they might not be able to speak for anywhere from one to six hours.
I wish knowing about pharmaceuticals would help me here.
Mohawk got to Liz. "Hold still," She tried to say, "Yes, Mistress" and nothing happened, just air escaping her mouth. Ignoring this, Mohawk pressed an automatic syringe against her arm. There was a slight, sharp pain and a feeling of pressure. Shit, shit, shit. That had to be a shot of Horny Juice, ildeslafine. She could feel her face contort and go pale, feel the cold sweat break out. Even someone who had to be an experienced slave wrangler was surprised at the reaction. Mohawk said, "Don't be that scared, 3349. That's the part of today that'll be fun!" and then moved on to do the next woman.
Her arm only stung for a few seconds. She tried not to shake too hard, now in what had to be a panic attack.
The man was going down the line saying, "Hold still" again. I know what comes next, and I can NOT freak out and get punished again. That might break me.
Sure enough, what came next was a collar, a light piece of metal, very cold against her bare skin. The "snap" sound it made wasn't scary by itself, but she jolted at it. She would be wearing one of these for almost 5 years. Now a master could give her one of those jolts with a remote control.
Purple Mohawk was in front of the line of slaves, about ten feet from the line on the ground. She said, "Slaves: look at me." Liz raised her eyes to see Mohawk holding a large remote control. It looked industrial, with big clunky buttons, not modern-looking with black-on-black recessed buttons like the ones she had seen slave owners holding in the street, or in
Indenture
episodes. "You have been fitted with slave collars. Trying to remove them will cause terrible, terrible pain. Disobey your masters and they will activate the collar and cause you terrible pain. Obedience is the only way you can be happy."
That's a very useful thing for slaves to be thinking about, isn't it, wrangler?
"I am now going to test your collars. Each of you will receive the weakest possible shock, Level 1. This is not a punishment, it is a requirement to test your new collar."
That's a lie. They could have tested them before locking them on us. It's an excuse to ramp up the fear.
Thought ended as the pain came, shaking her so badly she almost lost her balance and fell. It wasn't as bad as the zap in the cage, but bad enough. It was somehow worse because she couldn't scream, or whimper, or even weep aloud because of the devoicing.
As she regained control, she noticed Mohawk looking directly at her. She quickly lowered her eyes. She became aware of her own stink, suddenly, urine now cooling on her left thigh and becoming sticky. The piss was also making her labia tingle. Or could that be the Horny Juice already starting to work?
The female wrangler said, "You are now the property of Circle-Q Trading Post. Our business is to process slaves, increasing your value, and then sell you, usually at auction. You will be trained in how to be a valuable slave. You are what are called 'term slaves'. At the end of your terms of indenture, you will return to your legal status as full citizens. It is possible to extend your term by acts of disobedience. Proper obedience, and mastering the skills we teach you, will avoid that penalty, and also make your period of indenture happier and easier for you."
I can't look up, but I think she's reading from a script, or memorized one. That doesn't sound like how anyone would talk naturally.
"3349, heel!" That was the male wrangler who had devoiced her. Liz tried to say "Yes, Master," but of course, she was devoiced and nothing came out. "Heel" commands include permission to stand. She struggled to her feet, much harder with hands bound behind her back. Liz kept her eyes on the floor and followed him to a sort of standing desk. He clipped a leash to her collar and fastened the other end to the desk, where there was a handy ring, actually several. He waved some handheld at her, and there was a hauntingly, painfully familiar "chirp" noise. It was the exact sound the registers at "her" drugstore, SVM 92811, made when scanning a bar code. Scanning her slave registration chip.
He typed mysterious things into a computer. Then he pulled out her lower lip to inspect the new tattoo inside, and compared it to her slave number from the scan. Rummaging in a drawer, he found a pair of handcuffs. He fastened one to her right wrist, then in a single quick move cut the zip-tie holding her hands together, whipped both her arms in front of her, and locked the cuffs. The tie fell to the ground. It had to take practice and experience to do it that smoothly. Her shoulders ached with returning circulation. She could smell his cologne, and under it his masculine odor. It was enticing.
