Maria In The Tack Shop Again

by Annie of the Writing Group

Author Note: This is a sequel to "

Maria in the Tack Shop

".

Luis was raised in both Los Angeles and La Paz (Bolivia). He knows the US system of weights and measures, but he thinks in metric. If you just know that 30cm = about 1 foot and a meter is a little more than a yard, you'll be fine.

I parked on the gravel outside County Line Slave Tack and Tackle. They didn't even have a real parking lot, just a dirt patch where somebody had dumped gravel 10 years ago.

I said, "Maria, you're sure you want to do this?" Then I turned to look at my true love, who was sitting in the passenger seat. It was achingly exciting to see her like this: naked except for a collar, jewelry, a restraint belt around her waist, and ... a big smile on her face. The smile reassured me.

Maria is stunningly beautiful at any time. She's the perfect height. I didn't know that 158cm (she always says "five foot two") was the perfect height until I met her, but she's perfect. Therefore, 158cm is the perfect height. Long blonde hair, skin that tans to a wonderful very light brown, amazing hazel eyes, and generous proportions. Usually her makeup was subtle, but today she had used eyeliner, mascara, blush, and bright red lipstick. She was trying to look like her idea of a slave. Gold rings on her nipples, matching rings on her ears. Underarms, legs, and groin were freshly shaved. I noticed for the first time that she had also rouged her breasts.

"Yes, Luis, I'm sure. That's three times you asked. You're really being careful for my sake, and I appreciate it, but I promise, I've thought this out and I'm sure. Oh, and I'm sure. Very sure. Is that enough times I said I'm sure?" She wasn't really angry. She just loves to tease me. I was dating her for a couple of weeks before I realized that being in the "Teased by Maria" club means that she trusts you and feels close to you. Now, every time she does that I feel honored.

"Maria, I love you." Having reminded her of that, I got out of the car. I was dressed in casual clothes: jeans, work shirt, leather boots. Nobody would be looking at me, anyway, if I was with Maria. Naked Maria. Slave naked Maria.

I walked around the car and saw smiling, naked Maria getting out, wincing slightly as her naked soles hit the gravel. "We should pick up some sandals for you in there, girl." She met my eyes, smiling more as she heard me get into the roleplaying, then cast her eyes down and whispered "Yes, Master."

"One step toward me and stand, Maria." I padlocked the cuffs on her wrists, and locked the chain between them to a d-ring on her restraint belt, just above her navel. Then I knelt down and fastened the leg cuffs to her ankles, separated by that 30cm chain. Kneeling in front of her shaved crotch, I could see her labia pinking visibly from her excitement, as she was bound again, with the same chains and cuffs that were used on her the other time she was in this shop.

This time would be different. This was Maria's victory lap.

I had to get into the mindset.

I snapped a two meter leash onto Maria's plastic collar. "Let's go inside, slave!"

Maria's lips twitched up slightly, but she kept her eyes down, being the slave girl.

My slave girl shouldn't be amused by her Master's commands. As she turned to walk to the door, I put out one booted foot and stepped on the chain between her ankles. Maria was trying to move her left foot forward, and that stopped it dead. She looked down at the gravel, trying to see what was wrong, then turned her head to look over her shoulder, surprised. I met her gaze. And held. After a surprisingly long time, maybe 30 seconds, there was surrender in those beautiful hazel eyes. She turned back toward the door and looked down.

I lifted my foot so she could walk.

Following a woman with her ankles hobbled was slow. She was struggling to walk barefoot on sharp gravel. Any other time, I would have picked her up and carried her. This time, well, we had been together long enough for me to know: Maria hates to be babied. She wanted this experience. She would be furious to have any of it taken away.

With her legs hobbled, she couldn't even step over the little mud puddles from this morning's showers. She had to wade through them. That's the breaks, when you're a slave.

A man in a cowboy hat was coming out of the glass door of County Line. His eyes locked onto naked-and-leashed Maria and didn't want to come away. He stumbled and almost fell. As she walked past him, he said, "That is one fine-looking slave girl you have there."

"Yes, she is." I leaned past my fine-looking slave girl to pull the door open. Normally you don't hold doors for your slaves, but Maria's wrists were bound, she physically couldn't do it.

I could see that the 10 or so men in the store (the customers were all men) had turned and were checking her out. When a man holding her on a leash followed her in, a few of them turned away, but most just kept on ogling.

A man in a tan polo shirt and jeans was near the door. Taller than me, big belly, light coloration. He looked at Maria, and I could see him recognize her, then back at the man holding the leash. He grinned.

"You collared her?" He had a deep voice, and he spoke loudly. He stepped past Maria as if she wasn't a person and held his right hand out to me. "Raoul."

I took it. "Luis. Nothing legally binding--pun intended--but that's my collar on her." The curse of the law student. I felt compelled to carefully watch anything I said to be sure it was precisely legally correct. Normal people have shoulder angels advising them. I have a shoulder Administrative Law professor judging every word I say.

I have to keep the mood, so what would a slave owner do? "Kneel!" I tried to make my voice flat, as if I did this all the time.

Maria, always quick, immediately said, "Yes, Master," and knelt down where she stood, facing away from us. I admired her grace, kneeling smoothly with her hands and ankles bound.

I wanted to get things going, so I said, "Raoul, this is an actual shopping trip. I know some things I definitely need to pick up, and I also want to walk around this place, see what you've got. I might have questions for you. I brought Maria along to try things on--to try on, like trying on clothes, and for me to try things on her, like a paddle or a gag. Make sense?"

Raoul said, "Sure does. You can ask me any questions you want, or my assistant manager Caleb when he gets back from lunch. Can I point you to something to start with?"

I had been looking around. "Well, the first thing to try is right behind you, those pony boots. Maria was actually going to ask to try them on right before you cuffed her, last time she was here."

"Sure!" He paused and looked Maria up and down. "I don't want to say anything bad about your slave there, amigo, but her feet are filthy." Raoul was smirking.

"Yeah. Got someplace I can hose her down? I mean, you do gradings, you have to have the facilities for cleaning up slaves."

"Not just a place. Wait one. MAGGIE!" That name was a shout. "While we wait, let me ask

you

a question. You planning to make a pony out of Maria?"

"Nah. Just the boots, and maybe one of those butt plug tails?" I could feel my dick expanding and rising a little just from saying those words. I could also see Maria's head rise up a little from her looking-at-the-floor slave pose.

The County Line manager grinned. "We can do that. Some stuff has to be purchased if you want to put it on ... or in her. Butt plugs, for one. Most gags, anything that goes into her pussy except someone's finger, you buy first, then try."

"Sounds fair. Can we pick out-"

I was interrupted as a loud, high-pitched voice scratched out, "What do you want, Raoul?"

Coming out of a side aisle was a woman with long, graying hair, wearing a collar, sandals, and nothing else. A slave. She was tanned, short, lean, had some serious facial wrinkles. Maybe 60? Shaved completely, below the eyebrows, not even a landing strip at her crotch. And MAGGIE tattooed on her left breast in a rectangle--a permanent retail worker name tag. Her breasts were out-of-place big for her build, and stood up proudly, almost no sag. At her age? She had to be using Horny Juice--no, she was a slave. Her owner had to be giving her Horny Juice regularly.

And the meanest, most resentful expression on her face.

Raoul was neither pleased nor surprised, by his voice. His face didn't change at all. "Maggie, you got work to do. We're going to be dressing this slave up. Can't have mud all over her feet if she puts on our boots, can we? Take her to the slave wash, clean her all over. Actually, since we're going to do butt plugs, Luis, she should get an enema."

Whenever I'm around Maria, a big part of my attention is on her. I saw her twitch at the word "enema".

"Sounds about right, Raoul. While Maggie gets started on her job, can we pick stuff out for my slave?" I had thought about this. Maria was about as safe as possible here, as long as I was anywhere nearby. It would be scary and exciting for her to be out of my sight, alone with this strange and apparently angry slave. Having this stranger pumping out her rectum would be even scarier.

His expression said that Raoul got it. "Sure can. Hold up, though--I need to take Maria's measurements if the stuff is going to fit her." He pulled a tape out of his pocket and stepped over.

Maria knew perfectly well what she was doing when she spoke up. "Didn't you take my measurements when I was here before?" Pause of a full second. "Master?"

I had already stepped over. Now I casually flicked her ass with the tail of the leash. I was getting pretty good, there was an audible "smack!" sound. And a beautiful slave flinching.

"You do not address a free person unless addressed, slave." I turned. "Sorry, Raoul."

"You just heard how my own damned slave speaks to me, amigo. I ain't gonna get hot about talking out of turn. Hey, you want her devoiced? I can probably swing a discount." This was the man who devoiced Maria over a year ago. I didn't know her then, but she had told me how frightening it was to be unable to make a sound for hours.

"Actually, no. We're going to be trying on gags, right? If she's already silent, how can I test them? Anyway, I like the little sounds she makes when she's excited." I looked at Maria. There was a red stripe on her butt.

"Hafta listen for those noises. Gags? Let me get those measurements, then we can pick some stuff out. Maggie, hold her hair up." The older slave walked over and raised Maria's long blonde tresses. I saw the wince. Maggie was pulling, hurting her. Did she hate Maria for some reason? Maria had never mentioned meeting a slave here last year.

Raoul made notes on his tablet. Neck diameter. Shoulder width. Maximum mouth gape (for the gag?). Length and width of her feet--he measured both the right and left. Took a good feel of both breasts. Distance between nipples. Thigh and calf diameter. I wondered how many of these measurements he would actually use, and how much were just one of the many humiliation rituals places like this did.

While he worked, the customers casually started shopping (or just standing around) near us, so they could watch Raoul measuring Maria's slave naked body. He was very respectful of my role as Master, never giving her a direct order, asking me to put her in various positions (Present, Slave Fours, etc.) so he could take measurements. I could see how excited Maria was, by the audience, by the polite-yet-intimate groping she was getting from Raoul. I also noticed Maggie's expression getting more and more frustrated and irritated. Was she jealous of Maria's beauty? I could definitely understand that.

Finally, the manager said, "OK, that's all I need."

He stood up (he had been kneeling to get the calf diameter) and said, "If it's OK with you, Maggie can clean her up while you pick stuff out."

"Sounds good. Maria, go with Maggie and be a good girl. Be good and you'll get a treat!"

I didn't know the slave etiquette for this. I looked at Raoul and raised my end of the leash, then rolled my eyes toward Maggie.

"Yeah, that's the easiest, if you don't mind. Maggie, take the leash, and walk Maria over to the slave wash. Clean her up, inside and out, and put those disposable sock things on her so she can try on shoes. Oh, and if she needs to piss, take her to the sandbox and clean her up after." I hadn't thought of that. I couldn't back down now, but I wondered how Maria would feel about peeing in front of people and being wiped by a hostile slave.

"She's too good to wipe herself, boss? Is this a punishment for me or something?" Maggie sounded really resentful.

"She's bound, Maggie. I don't have the right to tell her owner to unchain her, and you sure as hell don't. Just do it."

She took a deep, long breath and waited a few seconds before saying, "Yes, Master." Took the leash from my hand and walked away, towing Maria. She was going fast enough to make it hard for Maria to keep up, with her ankles chained. I noticed that she wasn't actually pulling hard enough to make Maria fall, though. Being a jerk, sure. Hurting, no.

The eight or so customers who had been standing around watching Maria get measured drifted after, presumably to watch her get washed, get an enema, and maybe piss. It came to me that Maggie really did have a pretty unpleasant job.

Raoul turned back to me from watching Maria's ass as she hobbled away. "So, horse tail?"

"Yeah, and some other gear. The only quality stuff we have now is the restraints you gave her last year. Hey, I was looking at prices, and the chain and cuff setup you gave her was like $500. Do you give away that kind of stuff to everyone?"

He smiled at that, maybe the first genuine smile I saw on him. My bisexual brain picked that moment to inform me that Raoul was a sexy guy and that I should seduce him. Stop it, bi brain! I'm busy and monogamous with Maria!

"That's a cheap shit leash and collar there. Celebration City? We can definitely do better than that."

"We know it's cheap shit. Like I said, we came here to shop."

Raoul was interested. "You said 'We.' You set this up together?"

"Yeah. She's my lover, not a victim."

"Might be weird for me to say it, but it's good you feel that. Some people come in here, they pretend a little too hard. Seen some sad cases."

Changing the subject, he said, "Anyway, no, we don't give away $500 in equipment to every pretty girl. 'Yours to keep' is a joke for Full Experience customers, especially first-timers. Maybe more of a trick than a joke. After a couple minutes, we pull the girl in and take it all off. 'You don't really appreciate it, we're taking it back.' It's a way to release them and not ruin the act. She can keep on pretending she was in real trouble. Maria ran off with that Black guy about 30 seconds before I was going to release her. 'Course, she didn't know, and I don't blame her."

"Truth is, I didn't mind her keeping that crap. A free woman they can touch is half the reason some customers are loyal. She's so beautiful and so jumpy, and got so into it ... prob'ly sold two grand of random gear to guys what needed an excuse to hang around. Show goes on long as people are buying. She's selling merch now."

We both stopped and looked toward the "slave wash" at the back of the store. Naturally, things were set up so it was visible from as much of the place as possible. All I could see was Maggie's back, and a stream of water from a hose. I couldn't see Maria through all the guys standing around, commenting to each other. Did I hear her voice making an inarticulate whining noise?

Raoul said, "That water is cold. I'd make noises too, I had to stand in it like that. Maggie's a pro, she'll stop soon."

I asked, "So those guys hanging around Maria and Maggie right now are here mostly for the entertainment?"

"They're customers, but some of 'em come just for the girls. Got to stand out, or they buy from a damn catalog." He pointed at the front of the store, where one person was buying what looked like a... a yoke? And someone was in line behind him with a basket of small items. "It makes a difference. Might be the difference between profit and not."

"Speaking of, let's pick out some stuff. I'm definitely here to buy, Raoul."

------

We carried the stuff I picked out over to the open area in the middle of the sales floor, maybe 5 meters square, where there was a table with a cash register and (for some reason) a tall pole, maybe two and a half meters high, and two big plastic boards with holes in the middle and cuffs attached at the right and left. Pillories. There were also several large mirrors on wheels by the edges of the space.

"Did you buy another pillory, Raoul? Maria only told me about one when she was here last year."

"Yeah, started having enough business, sometimes we need to pinion two slaves at once."

"Makes sense. Hey, how long does it take to wash a slave? Where are the girls?"

"That is a fucking good question. MAGGIE! What's the holdup?" He could shout loud when he wanted. Everyone in the store turned to look. Some more men had come in. Had customers called friends to come in and watch the pretty blonde girl get used for slave dress-up? And there were customers at the one open register, buying stuff. This system seemed to work for Raoul.

There was a surprisingly long pause before Maggie appeared, towing Maria on the leash. My beautiful blonde was looking less than happy. She was dripping water, goosebumps showing how cold she was. Maggie was supposed to play along with the game, not randomly torture my lover because she felt bitter.

I did feel sympathy for her. Older and unattractive, with young girls being paraded in front of her and taking all the attention, probably a lifetime slave doing menial labor in a store all day, for the rest of her life.

Maggie finally got Maria over to us. I asked, "Raoul, wasn't Maggie supposed to put those try-on-shoes booties on Maria? I wanted to see how she looked in the pony boots."

"Maggie. Were you having so much fun freezing this girl, you forgot your orders?" Raoul just sounded tired and frustrated, not angry.

"Master, I ... you said you wanted her clean! I had to be sure she was clean all over!" Maggie, for the first time, seemed slightly afraid. Open defiance, I have read, is the one thing a slave owner can't tolerate.

"Get the damned booties now, Maggie." She started to run off with Maria, but Raoul grabbed the leash out of her hand. Maggie must be panicking.

Raoul handed me the leash. I said, "Thanks" as he tossed me a big towel. I started to dry Maria off as he went on.

"Sorry 'bout that. She hates pretty girls like I hate yellowjackets. We have a sec, and I bet you're curious. She's a charity case." He stepped closer, letting me smell his cologne. Which I was noticing more than I should.

I also noticed that the customers were drifting into the area, but standing pretty far back. When Maria was an "escaped slave", they crowded right around, she told me. Maybe they were more respectful of a free woman doing something brave than a pretend slave.

Maria and I could hear Raoul, but nobody else. I saw him glance at her before he went on and give the tiniest possible nod. He wanted her to hear.

"See, Maggie was dirt poor. Worked hard her whole life, usually two jobs, ended up with no money, no pension, no nothing. She didn't want to be a burden to her family, so she sold herself when she turned 55. Got a few grand, sent it to her youngest. You can't free a slave over 60 unless they can be self-supporting. The owner's responsible for feeding 'em, doctors, everything, 'til they turn 70 when the Federal program for old slaves kicks in. That was her plan: slave for 15 years, then old folks home on the federal dime." Raoul glanced over, but Maggie wasn't coming back yet. What was she doing?