02

Shanghaied Ch. 1 & 2 -- Forced into Becoming a Sex Slave

Part of the Repo'd Series

A store clerk gets forced into slavery by her boss.

by Periculum Fabula

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Set in the future, the year 2031 to be exact, after a catastrophic economic collapse, the United States legalized slavery in an effort to raise sufficient funds for a recovery.

At first, enslavement was limited to prisoners but, when selling convicts failed to provide enough cash to save the economy, consensual slavery, including debtors guaranteeing their loans with themselves as collateral, was legalized as well.

As this story is set in the future, things like sexually transmitted diseases, almost all contagions, that time of the month, and birth control difficulties are no longer a problem.

By 3031, medical science has taken care of all of those sorts of unpleasantries.

This is a part of my Repo'd series (which I'll update soon) and this story will begin to intersect with the Repo'd series and the Marti series.

It gives backstory to Karen, a character in Repo'd who has yet to be mentioned as of the publishing of this story.

As this is backstory, it's helpful but not necessary to read the Repo'd series to understand this fiction.

Warning: this story crosses genres, starting as exhibitionist and ending more non-consent/reluctant.

The story is told from the prospective of Karen, a 'salesgirl' (an attractive female slave used to help sell merchandise or services) owned by a small town independent auto parts store.

The concept of salesgirl is a progression on the 'mail girl' theme which was invented, and refined, by numerous authors before me.

All characters are 18 years of age or older. The story, names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons is intended or should be inferred.

Any similarity with the names of real people is only coincidental.

There is some mild bondage.

Disclaimer: lifting anyone off the ground in bondage isn't safe despite what this story says.

Please don't try this at home.

This story is intended as erotic entertainment only; it's pure fantasy and highly politically, legally, and morally incorrect.

If such offends you, please don't read it.

Thanks for reading.

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Chapter 1 -- WTF, How Did a Nice Girl Like Me End Up Like This?

It was March 7, 2031. I was standing in an auto parts store, wearing nothing but a slave collar and leather bondage cuffs on my wrists and ankles as a customer approached; a middle aged man who was overjoyed at the sight of my naked body. I gave him a big smile as he stared excitedly at my hooch.

"Hi, I'm Karen," I said cheerfully. "Can I help you sir?"

"I'm looking for some replacement windshield wipers for a 2028, Toyota Camry," he said even though, in truth, all he was really looking at was me.

"Sure, right this way sir."

As I glanced back at the customer, he was watching my ass. So, when we reached the windshield wiper display, I bent way over to get a couple of windshield wipers and gave him a real good look. Then, when I stood up, I intentionally gave a little wiggle to my shoulders causing my boobies to jiggle. The customer's eyes flew open and he licked his lips.

"Which would you like sir?" I said cheerfully, holding both wiper blades to my side, giving him a better view of my boobs than I did the wiper blades.

Eagerly staring at my titties, the man looked at one and then the other unable to make a choice.

"Which

wiper blade

would you like sir?" I said.

In attempt to refocus the customer, I moved each of the windshield wipers closer to my boobies so he might actually give the wiper blades a quick glance while gazing at my nipples.

"We offer both Rain-Saber and Praetorian wiper blades for your model of car."

Teasingly, I jiggled my titties again and smiled mischievously. Unable to concentrate on the wiper blades at all, the customer seemed entranced.

"So, do you see anything you like?" I said seductively as I cocked my hips. "Anything at all?"

Although the customer's mouth opened slightly and his eyes widened in exhilaration, looking eagerly at my cunny and the rest of my body, he was no closer to making a decision, at least on the windshield wipers, than when he came in.

I was what is known as a 'salesgirl,' a young female slave who worked as a sexy store clerk to draw in male customers. Although still not common, more and more businesses who catered mainly to men were beginning to take advantage of the new slavery laws to provide their patrons titillating customer support in an effort to boost sales.

You might ask how a nice girl like me ended up like this, a naked slave girl, showing everyone in town my tits, twat, and ass all that. I ask myself that sometimes as well. It's a long story but the short answer is that I'd gotten really upside down on my credit and needed to do something to avoid being repo'd.

Pardon me if I digress for a moment. After decades of government overspending, huge trade deficits, industrial infrastructure demise, and a couple of pandemics, the disastrous financial collapse of the American economy in 2025 caused a run American banks forcing the closure of almost all of them.

Most Americans, were left destitute and unable to pay their bills. The American economy was reduced to rubble. Retirement funds, and bank accounts went bust, unemployment rose to record levels, inflation was rampant, the dollar was devalued, and the stock market crashed.

Forced to eliminate Medicare and Social Security benefits, as well as forced to institute huge cutbacks in defense spending and welfare, the United States desperately needed a huge influx of new capital to fund the government entitlements and to reopen the banks. It'd take hundreds of billions of dollars (maybe even trillions), but, with its industry near extinct, it's government deeply in debt, its service economy in ruin, it's tax base diminished, and nothing to export, America's situation looked hopeless. It seemed like the only thing the country had left was people.

Desperate and out of options, America repealed the 13th amendment and reinstituted slavery to provide the United States with a new, highly valuable, and exclusive resource to sell, collateralize, export, and tax -- American slaves. At first America tried selling off its prison population with prisoners being converted to slaves for the duration of their sentence and sold.

Hundreds of thousands of stunned prisoners were shipped off to work camps and sweat shops. They were employed as migrant workers, miners, manual labor, and every other shit job now one wanted to do. It was a relatively easy for Congress to convince the voters to enslave the criminals. People cared a lot more about their Social Security and Medicare than they did about felons. After all, the convicts were just sitting in cells doing nothing and costing the government billions to guard when those same prisoners could be out earning the country lots of money.

Regrettably, there wasn't much of a market for rapists, drug dealers, murders, and thieves and the sales of prisoners were disappointing. The market was for young, virulent, and attractive slaves, particularly young women, who were honest, pleasant, hardworking, mentally well-adjusted, sober, and obedient. Unfortunately, prisons weren't stocked with nearly enough people who met this description. Most of the felons sold for very little and many didn't sell at all.

Even selling off all the younger female inmates wasn't all that was hoped for. Something needed to be done to improve their value. Since the value of slaves (particularly the hot looking females like me) was more a lot more valuable if you could strip them naked, or use them for sex, and since the entire reason for America legalizing slavery again was to raise as much money as possible to rescue the economy, Congress exempted slaves from any laws prohibiting sexual harassment and nudity.

Within weeks, tens of thousands of hapless young female prisoners were stripped naked and sold to brothels, harems, porn studios, and as concubines. Naturally, when people started seeing naked slaves for the first time, they completely freaked and the uproar against the forced nudity and prostitution was enormous.

But, as the money from slavery slowly began to turn things around, and as people started seeing naked young male and female slaves more often, it became accepted as something that needed to be done. Besides, the naked slaves were just felons anyway, they deserved what they got.

Still, there was a problem. Neither the quality of most of the prisoners nor the quantity was enough to satisfy the demand or rescue the economy. Unless huge numbers of high quality slaves could be somehow obtained, the proceeds of slavery would never be enough to fully restore people's bank accounts, Social Security, and Medicare.

Although the demand for pretty young slaves was huge, the supply was woefully insufficient. Lots of rich people, and even a lot of businesses, were eager to buy high quality slaves, particularly the young and attractive women, and they were willing to pay top dollar to get them. But there were scant few felons that met this description. Prisons weren't a solution. Something else needed to be done.

So, desperately needing to find some other way to enslave Americans, particularly attractive young people, Congress passed a law allowing for voluntary slavery. A person, like me, could get herself enslaved by committing a crime, by voluntarily signing a slavery contract, or, most importantly, by using her freedom as collateral on a loan and falling more than three months behind on my payments.

It was a virtual gold rush as banks, casinos, automobile dealerships, slave mongers, and numerous small business and private individuals all sought to cash in on the huge profits offered by the burgeoning slavery industry. College coeds, like me, were particularly targeted with tempting loan offers for student loans, cars, credit cards, leases, cosmetic surgery, vacations, quick cash, gambling money, etc.

The lure of easy money being irresistible, millions of Americans with bad credit, like me, who would never have qualified for a loan before, where suddenly inundated with lucrative offers of credit if only they'd pledge themselves as collateral. Massive numbers of them, me included, took the bondage bankers (the nickname given to banks which offered loans with the debtor's slavery as collateral) up on their offer. As a result, millions of those same Americans ended up getting themselves repossessed and sold off as slaves.

Although no other countries were enslaving their population, plenty of other nations, particularly the ones that really hated Americans, were quick to recognize slavery and import American slaves. Almost half the countries in Africa legalized the importation of American slaves and began bring them in by the tens of thousands, particularly the white slaves. Payback's a bitch.

With the repo'd slaves being vastly better in quality than the prisoners, money from the sale of American slaves began pouring in by the hundreds of billions; more than Congress had even dreamt of; enough to reinvigorate the economy, restore defense funding, rescue the banks and reinstate social Security and Medicare.

It was a godsend. The amount of wealth created by slaves was huge. In only half a decade, slaves had become the third most valuable source of wealth in America, behind real estate and the stock market. And, with all the exports of unfortunate repo'd slaves, America enjoyed its first trade surpluses in decades.

It seemed as if the reinstitution of slavery had become the panacea that everyone had dreamt of -- the savior of the American way of life. It was a win/win situation for everyone. Everyone but the slaves of course and, if you got yourself repo'd, it really sucked.

Although there was another round of protests to consensual slavery and repossessions of debtors, many vehement, as the money from the sale of repo'd Americans flowed in, the opposition to slavery began to wane until society slowly came to accept slavery as a necessary evil, like prisons, war, and taxation. Gradually, most people came to accept slavery as something that needed to be done to preserve the American way of life in a difficult and changing world and the voters just went along with it. After all, it was voluntary.

The upside of all this was that banks started loaning young people, like me, lots of credit based only on their looks and I had really good looks, so they gave me lots and lots of credit. The downside was that I could get my ass repo'd and subjugated into slavery if I got too far behind. Worse yet, I'd never been particularly good with money and I'm kind of impulsive, like really impulsive.

As you probably have already guessed, my problems started when I financed my college education, bought a new car, ran up a huge credit card debt on clothes, and collateralized all of my loans with my ass. The bank even agreed to delay all payments on my all my indebtedness until after I graduated.

I thought the bank was just being generous but it was a trap. It let me to run up a pretty big bill without having to make any monthly payments, giving me false confidence in my ability to pay back all my loans.

I know, you're going to say that I really should have known better, and you're right, but let's get past that. Since I looked hot, my credit was hot, even though my salary wasn't and I spent more on credit than I should have. Of course, the more years of slavery I offer them and if I'm willing to agree to risk general slavery (which would put me at risk of being used for fetish work, nudity, and the sex trade) the more money they'd offer me and with lower interest rates.

Unfortunately, sure that I'd be able to repay the loan, on my student loans, credit cards, and car, I signed up for the most money at the lowest interest they offered and agreed to collateralize the loan with my twat via a six year general slavery contract.

So, after college, when I couldn't find a job in my major (theatre), I took a job at an auto parts store as a sales clerk. The pay was paltry, a lot less than I'd expected, but three of the four owners of the store were nice and the customers were friendly. It was a relaxed, easygoing, and even jovial atmosphere. The owners were two couples, the older of which were Bill and his wife Janice who'd taken on a young couple as partners a few months before I came, Larry and his wife Sandy.

It was a small store with only the five of us. I generally worked the floor while Sandy manned the register, Bill gave advice and installed parts, and Larry made deliveries and filled in wherever was necessary. Janice, the only person who really understood the books, worked the office, ordered inventory, and answered the phone. We all worked long hours and stayed pretty busy.

Unfortunately, when all the bills came in and I actually had to start making payments on my loans, the money was tighter than I'd expected, like really tight, like scary tight, and it was all I could do to just scape by.

That was until I mistakenly got quarantined for with the Brazilian flu, a rare but potentially deadly pandemic from South America which was just starting to gain a foothold in the United States.

That shit all started when Janice accidentally knocked a huge glass bottle of air freshener of the sales counter. It was a colossal mess. The bottle exploded like a bomb, getting air freshener all over everything. The problem was that I was really allergic to lots of different types of fragrances, including that particular variety of air freshener. Even though I'd tried my best to clean it up, I was still red eyed and sniffling a couple of hours later.

I didn't think anything about it until a couple of hours later when I looked up to see a white van with government license plates and a police car pull up. To make matters worse, they both parked in the handicapped spots, right in front of the store. I'd never seen the local police do that before. Something was up. They looked like quarantiners.

Let me explain. After suffering from a couple disastrous pandemics in the last decade, the government wasn't taking any chances with the Brazilian Flu. While the spread of the disease was still in its infancy in the United States, this time they weren't fooling around.

No more depending on social distancing; instead, the CDC adopted a policy of target quarantining and sent out crews of paramedics, called quarantiners, whose job it was to snatch up anyone suspected of possibly being a carrier and lock them away. I'd seen them on TV. They always drove unmarked white vans, just like the van in our parking lot, and wore white hazmat overalls with a gas mask like device, just like the people getting out of the van.

"Shit," I muttered. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back," I said to the customer I was helping and frantically darted back to the sales counter so I could stash my tissue box along with my bottle of antihistamines in a drawer; trying to hide any evidence of my allergy affliction.

"What's up?" Sandy asked.

Sandy and I were close, real close. She was a real sweetie. Only a year older than me, she had grown to be my best friend and, although she was one of store's partners, our relationship was more like an older sister rather than a boss.

"Trouble." I said, glancing fearfully out the window at the van.

Three people, in the white contagion coveralls, got out of the van, two men and a woman. The men put on their gas masks while the woman was strapping a backpack sprayer. The cop was hurriedly putting on a surgical mask and gloves.

"Who do you think it is?" Sandy asked looking out at the police and the white van.

"Quarantiners."

"Oh my god, you don't think they're coming for one of us do you?" Sandy looked panicked.

"They sure as shit aren't here to buy auto parts," I said, certain that, within the next two minutes, one of us would be in the back of their van.

"Surely not. Maybe they're just here to service the heat pump."

"No, no, those are quarantiners alright. Trust me, we're seriously fucked," I said as the quarantiners started towards us.

Quickly I glanced at my face in a mirror on the sunglasses display. My eyes were still red and puffy.

"Fuck."

"Is your name Karen, Karen Shaw?" one of the guys in the hazmat suits asked me as he walked in the door. My heart jumped and I jerked away from the mirror. Not only were the quarantiners looking right at me, they knew my name.

"Uh, what's this about?" I asked nervously.

"You just need to come with us, ma'am," the second man said staring at me intently though his gas mask.

The first guy in the hazmat suit signaled to the second to split up and they began cautiously circling around the sales counter towards me from different directions, like predators closing in on the kill.

"We're just here to help you ma'am," the second man said as he walked past the 'staff only' sign and went behind the sales counter.

"Seriously, I'm not sick. I've just got allergies," I said.

"We just want to take you down to our office and run a few tests on you," the first man said as he rounded the corner of the sales counter, approaching me from the opposite direction.

"It's just some air freshener that got spilled," I said, backing away as the men got close. "I'm allergic to it. You can smell it."