Slave Yoga Ch 01

Sweating bullets and ever conscious of her stern academic advisor's disapproving indifference, Tracy moved to the final suggestion on her list of possible topics.

"I was thinking I might do my thesis on Slave Yoga," Tracy said. "It's very trendy, and there's a lot of interesting psychological aspects."

Tracy's faculty advisor, Dr. Agatha Crush, had dismissed her previous suggestions contemptuously, so Tracy was surprised when her mercurial Professor put down her papers and gave Tracy her full attention.

Agatha Crush was an odd duck. Tracy guessed her to be about 50, although she had a sort of ageless quality that suggested she would always would be the age she was now. She was very wealthy, and liked to monogram her expensive suits and handbags with her personal logo, a stylishly cursive AC.

Agatha Crush was difficult to please, and noted for being particular merciless with her graduate students, most of whom were females. The upside was that she was one of the rare academics whose work had actually passed over from college bookstores to the bestseller lists, so securing her as her Phd advisor had been something of a plumb for Tracy.

Agatha had hated all of Tracy's ideas and so the Phd student felt a surge of excitement as Agatha actually sounded interested. "That DOES sound intriguing," Dr. Crush said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her folded hands. "Tell me more."

Tracy hadn't been sure which topic her Academic advisor might choose so she had prepared to pitch them all. One had to prepare carefully before visiting Professor Crush lest one be eaten alive.

"As you know, some of the Yoga centers have started offering Slave Yoga classes. They started out as an exercise program targeted for female slaves, a way to make them more agile, centered, and compliant without having to rely on negative incentives."

"You mean the whip?" Agatha asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling at Tracy's euphemism.

"Precisely," Tracy said. "Yoga has an exercise component, but there is also a mental side. Medical research has shown that yoga can decrease stress and be used to fight depression. With Slave Yoga they incorporated in the mental exercises and mantras used in traditional yoga with the repetition exercises they use to break in female slaves."

"Fascinating," Agatha said. "So the women use yoga to mentally condition themselves to be slaves?"

"Precisely. They 'practice' their slavery using imagery, cognitive restructuring, and the traditional techniques of behavioral therapy. Although no one has quantified it I think the reason it works is they are reprogramming the woman's mind so that she internalizes her slavery, and comes to see her service as natural."

"Do you think it is?" Agatha said, challenging her. "I mean, do you think some women are born slaves?"

"Perhaps," Tracy said, "but Slave Yoga transforms interests or tendencies into conditioned behaviors. The fascinating thing is that although they use the techniques of behavior modification no one has ever thought to document the process from a behavioral psychologist's perspective."

"No one until you, that is," Agatha said, clearly intrigued by the idea. "Tracy, this is brilliant. This is not only going to be your thesis, this is going to be your first book. A bestseller, I bet. If you can pull this off, this will make your career."

Tracy was shocked. Professor Agatha Crush, the "Student Crusher" was eating out of her hand!

"There's enormous potential in this idea, Tracy. How do you propose studying it?"

"That's the interesting part. I heard about this because they're going to start a Slave Yoga class at my health club, only for free women instead of slaves. I thought that was an interesting angle to explore, finding out why free women would want to go through the same exercises that pleasures slaves did, and then following up with them. What motivates them? Why are they there? How does it effect them mentally."

"Thus exploring the psychological divide master and slave, owned and free. Tracy, this paper is getting better by the second! How will you collect the data?"

Tracy couldn't help but share her Professor's excitement. "My idea was to observe the women in the class, and interview them, although I'm not sure they'll let me. The men in the health club crowd around to watch Slave Yoga, so now all the classes for the free women are going to be held in a sealed room."

Agatha Crush leaned back in her chair, rolling her monogrammed pen thoughtfully in her hand as she spoke. "You have a bigger problem than that, Tracy. Those women will be self conscious enough without having a university student quizzing them on their motivations. Remember they might be participating in these classes to fulfill some sort of sexual fantasy, either for themselves or to please someone else in a power relationship with them. The Hawthorne effect would instantly render your results worthless. May I suggest a method of data collection that won't bias your results?"

"Of course," Tracy said. "What should I do?"

With a surprising tenderness the gruff Professor gave Tracy a an almost maternal smile. "It's quite simple, my dear. Sign up for the class."

Tracy was stunned. "Me? Sign up for the class? With all due respect, Professor, I don't think..."

"Come now, Tracy, let's be candid here. You wouldn't have suggested this as your thesis topic if you didn't have some interest in the material. Most girls your age wonder about what it'd be like to be enslaved. It's perfectly natural."

Tracy's pulse quickened at her Professor's insight. She knew! How did she know?

"Um, yes, I've wondered. I mean a lot of the girls in my building are getting Slave Gradings, to see how they stack up."

"Of course they are. Women, free or slave, are naturally competitive, and Slave Gradings are an excellent way for a young woman such as yourself to value her worth objectively. Now as for the class, it's up to you, of course. You can fast track your entire academic career by writing a Phd thesis that will be a publisher's dream, or you can join the academic rejects trying to impress me with their pathetic, derivative Pavlovian pap about how they used bacon strips teach their dog to bark. We're out of time."

"Yes, but..."

Agatha's warmth vanished as she put on her reading spectacles and returned to her work. "Good day, Miss Smith. We'll talk again next week. I hope your ready for a serious discussion, for I despise students who waste my time."

Although ostensibly Tracy had the right to choose her thesis topic she knew that Agatha Crush would make her life a living hell if Tracy defied her. On the brighter side the thought of enrolling in Slave Yoga was frightening but also something of a turn-on!

That night Tracy went online and began learning the basic slave positions.

PRESENT: On your knees, legs spread, head bowed, hands resting on your knees with palms facing up.

BELLY: On your belly, ankles crossed, wrists crossed behind your back.

SLAVE STAND: standing, eyes bowed in respect, legs parted ("wide enough for your master's hand"), hands behind your back so "you're ready for inspection."

SLAVE SNAP: Silence! Drop to your knees and spread your legs at the sound of your "Master's" (the trainer's) finger snap!

Tracy wasn't surprised that she learned the moves quickly; she was an excellent dancer. What surprised her was how dangerous and forbidden it felt, yet perversely exciting in a strange sort of way. Female slavery was a growing industry and now that the export market had opened up girls were being sent all over the world. Despite it's growing popularity pleasure slavery was the sort of topic that "nice girls" never talked about. Maybe this was her chance.

Still sweaty from her workout Tracy's final move of the night was to remove her trusty vibrator from the drawer and pleasure herself as she fantasized about performing for a huge crowd of handsome male buyers on the auction block.

The Slave Yoga class was at 6:30 AM yet all 30 slots were filled. The timing worked well for Tracy because it allowed her to take the class, shower, and get to the local High School to teach the Introduction to Psychology class.

The class was a way for High School Seniors to earn college credit and get a head start. Tracy liked the classes better than teaching at the University since the High School students had to be smart to get into the class and were genuinely interested in both the subject and studying hard, unlike at the University where classes were often composed of students coasting through a non-core requirement for their majors.

Tracy had taught the class before but because of budget cuts the class had briefly been taught by the High School's Principal which was something of a disaster as he knew nothing about Psychology and even less about teaching. After numerous complaints from parents and students alike Tracy was brought back.

Tracy never liked the Principal. Biff Bolton was a middle-aged Romeo who thought he was far more attractive than he was. He spent way too much time commenting on Tracy's "lovely figure" and "pretty mouth." Tracy wasn't sure if he was being obnoxious because he thought he might bully her into sleeping with him (never) or if he was hoping she'd quit her job so he could keep pocketing the extra teaching money for barely teaching the class (never, twice).

When Principal Bolton introduced Tracy to the class and announced he'd no longer be teaching the 18 and 19 year-olds burst into a spontaneous round of applause, much to his embarrassment. Angered by their reaction he reverted to his natural sexism.

"Tracy is a pretty little thing with a great figure, but she's your teacher and I expect you boys to keep your eyes on your work," he chuckled. "Treat her with respect, because she's not just eye candy."

Tracy was having none of it. "Class, Principal Bolton just gave us an example of why psychology is so important, and what subtext means. He just complimented me on my figure, but was it really a compliment?"

"No," Stephanie said. "He was establishing control."

"Why?" Tracy asked.

"Because he's embarrassed we were all glad to be rid of him cuz he's not a very good teacher," Timmy replied. The class laughed.

"So he's attempting to establish control," Tracy said, adopting her pedagogical tone as she wrote the words "control", and "insecurity" on the board as Principal Bolton squirmed in discomfort.

"What about his admonishment to the male students that they should pay attention to my lessons and not my body?" Tracy asked.

"He was undermining you again," Jeff said.

"Yes," Yumi agreed. "He was planting a subliminal suggestion."

"Excellent," Tracy said, writing the word "subliminal" on the board. "Anything else?"

"Projection," Tammy said. "He's the one staring at you all the time. He can't deal with powerful women, so he objectifies them." Tracy wrote "objectification" on the board.

"Yeah, he's projecting his bull onto the us," Steve said.

Tracy wrote "projection" on the board and then turned to Principal Bolton, and smiled her sweetest smile. "I think we're done with you, unless you want to stay and hear some more."

Principal Bolton left, his face red with anger and embarrassment. As soon as the door of the classroom closed behind him Biff Bolton could hear the class laughing at Tracy's epic takedown. "Someday!" he said to himself, storming back to his office.

Principal Bolton's clumsy idiocy allowed Tracy to quickly reestablish control over her class. You had to be a very smart to get into this honors section and she knew that a lot of the male students (and maybe a few of the females) had crushes on her. But even as she secretly enjoyed the attention she was strictly business and threw herself into being the best teacher possible.

It felt odd, submitting herself so totally in Slave Yoga only to show up at the High School and instantly flip into professional mode. Tracy worried that her performance in her Slave Yoga class - and her paper - might somehow be compromised by her day job and vowed to focus more intently on the mental aspects of her submission.

Fortunately the Slave Yoga classes were fun and Tracy, smart and competitive, loved learning the new moves. Tracy learned that the goal of Slave Yoga was not simply to exercise but to learn to transition between the positions with grace and style.

Their instructor, Karen, explained that real slave girls would practice for hours in front of the mirror, learning how to roll, flip, bend, and spread in a way that would please their master, or, even better, earn them a better master when they were eventually sent to the auction block.

Tracy was glad to befriend some of the women in the class as she knew their help would be invaluable for her paper. She became particularly close to Suzie, a lawyer who had signed up for the Slave Yoga class after her firm had made her the Partner in charge of enslavement cases.

"It's a burgeoning field, and the law is new so it's quite interesting, actually," Suzie explained while toweling off after a shower. "When a girl is enslaved or self-enslaves we have to entirely dispose of the estate, and our firm is developing new techniques to help streamline the process. Plus there's a huge market for white Western women in Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, so we've developed a whole system to get the girls through animal quarantine and onto the block as quickly as possible."

"You mentioned self enslavement," Tracy said. "Is that a big part of your business?"

"It's the majority, at least for us, since our firm specializes in top grade pussy," Suzie said. "It's a big turn on for some girls, which is one of the reasons I enrolled in the Slave Yoga class. I wanted to understand the psychology of my clients."

"So your clients actually ask to be enslaved?" Tracy said, surprised.

"Yes, although after the court enslaves them they're not really my clients anymore, they're just inventory their estate needs to dispose of. Of course some girls can't quite admit it — they hang out at slave markets and get Slave Graded and pretend to be slave girls with their boyfriends and play all sorts of games. In those cases a father or mother or boyfriend can report them to the slave authority and if a Judge agrees they can make the girl's wish come true and issue a bill of enslavement. In those cases it's something of a public service, getting the little sluts into their collars. If these Slave Yoga classes take off I think they'll be a good source of raw material for us, so I wanted to get in on the ground floor."

"How many of your cases are self enslavement?" Tracy said.

"Again, we do high end girls, so last year the selfies were about 80% of our market. The remainder were trust fund princesses who pissed off daddy or nice suburban girls who fell behind on their student loan payments. So you'll want to make sure to finish that Phd of yours, Tracy, or you might be using my professional services."

Suzie laughed. Tracy did not.

Professor Crush was delighted when Tracy signed up for the class and made Tracy describe everything in detail. Agatha was fascinated and even cleaned off her desk so that Tracy could climb on top of it and show Agatha some of the "block moves" that she had recently learned. Her thesis advisor laughed and applauded, and Tracy flushed with pride as Agatha praised her for her "grace and style" and called her "a natural."

Tracy reveled in her thesis advisor's approval. She had been the top of her class in school, the head cheerleader, and the best new teacher. Now she was determined to master Slave Yoga as well. Tracy practiced for hours in front of the mirror, perfecting her smile, adding a leg lift to her belly roll, smoothing the way she dropped to her knees. Soon, Tracy was at the top of her class, which was for her the best "position" of all.

By the third week they began to work on the mental conditioning and Karen got tougher on them, calling them "lazy bitches" and commenting that "they shouldn't let their tits get in the way." As a trained psychologist Tracy understood that Karen bore the women no animosity and was merely breaking them down as part of the mental conditioning process.

The harsh new tone took it's toll and by the fourth week 20 of the women had dropped out. Karen wondered out loud if the class would be able to continue given the large number of refunds that had been given. When Tracy reported the results to her academic advisor Agatha Crush was not happy.

"Perhaps Slave Yoga isn't as popular as you thought it was," Agatha said tartly.

"No, the Slave Yoga classes the slave girls are taking have waiting lists. In fact, that's one of the reasons they are thinking of cancelling it, so they can use the space."

"The answer seems obvious, then," Agatha said. "Why don't they bring in real slave girls and train you all together? That way they'll fill all the slots and you'll be able to continue your slave training."

"My Slave Yoga," Tracy said, correcting her.

Agatha frowned. "Call it what you will, but you need to get out in front of this Tracy or your thesis is finished. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tracy said, feeling very much like a little girl in the Principal's office.

The next day Tracy gave her suggestion to the club manager, who immediately liked the idea and promised to think it over.

When Tracy arrived in the training room next week they were greeted by the Club Manager, their instructor Karen, and a large, muscular man who never smiled and regarded the students like they were ants at his picnic.

Karen explained cheerfully that the class was NOT going to be cancelled because "Tracy had saved the day." Karen explained that the trainer, "Master Mark" was going to take over the class, and Karen was going to switch back to teaching Zumba.

"Master Mark is a licensed slave trainer, and to keep the class going next week we're going to bring in 20 actual slave girls to refill the ranks of the dropouts," the club manager explained. "The slave girls were sent here by their masters, and they will not be dropping out," he added wryly. "If you'd like to get a refund we fully understand, as this is the first time we've tried this and we're still figuring out how it works. However if you're willing to stick with it I think you'll find that Master Mark will give you a terrific work out."

There were no requests for refunds and after the club manager and Karen left Master Mark immediately assumed control.

Master Mark's tone was harsh and demanding and even if he was a bit of a hunk he lacked Karen't bubbly, perky personality. There was no music and the exercises were strenuous and tiring, but afterwards in the showers the women agreed that they had "a hell of a workout" and that having a real slave trainer made the experience "much more authentic."

"It was kind of hot, actually," Suzie said, confiding to Tracy. "Having that young, muscular stud order us about. "I'll bet you he has a big schlong, too," she added, laughing.

Although the women knew what was coming it was still a bit of a shock when Master Mark introduced the slave girls to the class. Even if they hadn't been wearing slave collars the slaves would have been easy to spot. Tracy and the other free women wore a leotard or running clothes while the slave girls did their moves in the nude.

The slave girls were fit and trim and although she wasn't a lesbian Tracy found herself admiring their lithe, trim bodies. Tracy knew that the life of a pleasure slave was tough and demanding with their entire existence being devoted to pleasing their Masters. Constant exercise and a diet of nutritious, dog food like slave kibble ket the girls in peak condition.

Several of the girls had slave brands on their bottoms and thighs and Tracy found herself strangely hypnotized by them as she watched them exercise. There was something horrible, powerful and wonderfully reductive about the scars. To Tracy the brands epitomized the loss of the woman's humanity and rebirth as mere livestock.