Disclaimer
All characters are legal adults in the jurisdictions presented, and in any case are 18+.
This story revolves around a universe where there is legal slavery either voluntary or by debt-based indenture. This universe is loosely based off the works of Carl_Bradford, Joe_Doe_Stories and many others.
Consent is paramount! Slavery is bad. Historical and race-based slavery was exceptionally bad. Modern slavery, in all forms is bad and should be condemned.
The concept of "legal slavery" and "self-indenture" is a fictional erotica topic with BDSM themes and should be taken lightly, not as a serious presentation of any desirable future. I'm borrowing the universes well presented on Literotica without consent or knowledge of the prior authors: I beg their indulgence.
This story employs themes of non-consent/reluctance, slavery, bondage, submission, control, and Domination.
Welcome to The Satin Shoppe
Marcus smiled as he checked the appointment on his calendar app. He was right on schedule, walking to the side entrance of MaidSlaves.
The side entrance near the owner's-sale side opened into a bespoke shop. Marcus was well-used to the discreet entrance by now. Sporting a black satin shirt underneath his sports jacket, he was wearing as much satin today as he could get away with in his day-job. Cutting crisp lines in his suit, Marcus loved the way his suits made him feel.
The pants boosted his butt, and the suit coat framed his broad shoulders perfectly. The bright whites and deep blacks helped round out his professional vibe. Bouncing slightly in his patent leather shoes, he sprung forward toward his appointment. Marcus paid well for his appointments, but '
Punctuality is the Politeness of Princes...
' he thought, there was no use in being late.
He sighed: his dalliances into The Satin Shoppe were a pale image of his true desires. His partner, Ashleigh, was adamantly opposed to the legal slave trade. Marcus didn't really blame her: she grew up religious and there were certain social morays she simply couldn't let go of. One of which was that slavery was automatically bad. That meant that owning a slave would be bad, even a MaidSlave.
It didn't matter how much Marcus made at work, dealing casually in sums that would elevate or ruin entire island nations: Ashleigh wouldn't allow them to own any slaves. It wasn't so much that he liked the slavery laws their society had, but well, since they
did
have them, he didn't see why he shouldn't enjoy them. She wouldn't hear of it '
Not under our roof!
' she had cried. He didn't mind her moral objections, on the contrary: that she had principles at all was something he admired in her.
So: no slaves '
--at home...'
Marcus grinned at that thought. Ashleigh had clearly stated "not under
our
roof," so Marcus had found a few places where he could indulge his desires that were decidedly under someone
else's
roof. He'd tried a few slave brothels, a few risqué restaurants, but the MaidSlaves experience had been simply divine.
Up ahead loomed the small red velvet-look canopy that sheltered the small Satin Shoppe entrance. With no street-facing windows, The Satin Shoppe catered to the sort of bespoke clientèle that valued some privacy. The black-enamelled oaken door had a brightly polished brass handle, with "The Satin Shoppe" written in elegant white cursive letters, about a hands-width in height: every detail breathing a restrained elegance.
Marcus pulled his suit so it was square on his shoulders, straightened his tie, and opened the door.
[...]
Maid 0202 smiled as her scheduled client arrived right at the agreed time: it was the sort of courtesy not often afford to slaves, but one which spoke to a more respectable client. While 'respectable' clients didn't
always
have more money, this one did. What was more, he was clean, orderly, and somewhat formal--all things that appealed to her deep-seated maid conditioning. It made serving him a pleasure, something she regretted having to share with the maids she was training, but the Maid of The House had duties that came before her pleasure.
The Satin Shoppe was primarily a place for owners and Dominant(e) partners to dress their partners or properties in sumptuous satin styling--though with enough notice they'd source just about
any
clothing you wanted. Training maids in exquisite formal service was the other use of the space. Welcoming the high-rolling customers with the correct etiquette and treating their property with the correct attitude, was perfect grooming for maids destined for upper-class domestic service. They would be expected to provide table service at parties, exquisite cleaning afterward, cooking breakfast the next morning, and possibly relieving their Master's morning wood in the process.
They might even be expected to manage other slaves, which was why their handling of owner's property in the shop was a carefully monitored and tutored affair. Inside the shop, the maids were supposed to be like ballerinas: not just graceful, but deliberate and careful in all their movements. Shopping at The Satin Shoppe wasn't just about the clothing, it was an immersive experience.
Marcus was one of the few clients that came in for himself. Clearly in love with the finer things in life, his outfits usually included more than a few satin elements. Maid 0202 had
personally
seen to the fitting of his boxers. She curtsied as he crossed the threshold and smiled. Keeping her eyes fixed on his chin, she gently announced: "Welcome back Master Marcus, it is our pleasure to serve you today."
The Maid of The House made a small but deliberate gesture at Maid 0953, who startled slightly before sinking into her own curtsy. "Thank-You for using us today, Master," she squeaked out. The Maid of The House gave Marcus a quick wink and smile, she knew he enjoyed the nervous new ones.
"And I look forward to using you, my sweet..." he stepped forward and trailed a finger under Maid 0953's chin, making her shiver. "But I think we should see to my shopping first." At this he chuckled, a sound that seemed almost sinister in the muffled quiet of the shop. It was only when The Maid of The House chuckled herself that the tension was broken and the nervous maid permitted herself a gentle smile. "Let's see your tie collection, I've grown bored of the options I have."
Maid 0953 curtsied quickly, "Of course, Master!" and went to fetch a rolling rack hanging with dozens of ties. Varying in width, colour, and even pattern, they ranged from rather feminine-looking cravats to tiny square-ended simple ties to swirls of black and ivory satin in an abstract power-tie pattern. Humming over the options presented, the maid stood by with her hands in front of her and her eyes down.
"I think if I'm trying on new ties, perhaps you should remove the one I'm wearing?..." he asked, an eyebrow raised.
At this the maid blushed, "Of course, Master! I'm so sorry, please forgive me!" she blurted out.
"Not at all little maid, now why don't you show me what you girls are famous for?" he grinned and relaxed his arms to his side. The Maid of The House, satisfied that things were in hand for now, curtsied to Marcus, who nodded, and she left Maid 0953 in his capable hands. Pulling her tablet from some hidden recess of her apron, she tapped a monitor flag for the room to ping her if the system detected anything unusual, and docked an icon so she could pop into the video feed as needed. Presently, she needed to see to some new intakes that needed processing.
