Shanghaied Ch 03

Shanghaied Ch. 3:

Old Friends, Nude Beginnings

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Set in the future, in an effort to raise sufficient funds for a recovery

after a catastrophic economic collapse, the United States desperately needed a new and very valuable product to export and tax but, with America's industry, financial sector, and service economy all in ruins, the country had nothing to offer. Out of options, reluctantly America legalized slavery. At first, enslavement was limited to felons but, when selling convicts failed to provide enough cash to save the economy, consensual slavery, including guaranteeing loans with your slavery, was legalized as well.

The story centers on Karen, a 'salesgirl' (an attractive female naked slave used as a salesclerk to help attract customers) owned by a small town independent auto parts store. The concept of salesgirl is a progression on the 'mailgirl' theme which was invented, and refined, by numerous authors before me.

This is a part of my Repo'd series (which I'll update soon) and, in the next chapters, will begin to merge with it. It gives backstory to Karen, a character in Repo'd who has yet to be mentioned as of the time of this publishing. As this is backstory, it is helpful, but not necessary, to read the Repo'd series to understand this fiction. Warning: this story crosses genres, starting more as exhibitionism and ending more non-consent/reluctant.

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. As this is chapter 3, it would be helpful to read the first two chapters first.

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. This story is intended as entertainment only; it's pure fantasy and is highly politically, practically, legally, and morally incorrect. Don't try this at home. If such offends you, please don't read it.

Thanks for reading.

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It's 8:55 in the morning on Monday the 10th of March, 2031 and I'm pacing nervously. You'd be anxious too if you were me. You see, I'm standing stark naked in an auto parts store in a small town near Charlotte, North Carolina, we open in just five minutes, and there's already a line of people waiting to get in to see me. It looks like I'm in for another really busy day. I'm what is known as a 'salesgirl,' a naked female slave who works as a store clerk.

As our patrons are mostly male, in hopes of attracting more customers, the store bought me to give the guys something pretty to look at as I helped them with their purchases. That means that in five minutes, the doors are going to open and everyone is going to flood in to see my bare cunny, ass, and boobs. I've only been a slave for a few days so it's still nerve racking to just stand here naked and wait for all those people to come in and gawk at me.

Since I was a slave, the store's decision to put my pussy on parade in front of all the customers wasn't illegal. To make slaves more valuable, Congress exempted slaves like me from any nudity laws, sexual harassment laws, or any other labor laws. As a slave, I'm no longer considered a citizen, so most laws and most rights don't apply to me. I'm in a lesser social class governed by a lesser set of laws. It means my masters, the store owners, can work me stark naked, even in public, all day, every day, and there's nothing I can do about it.

When I tell you I'm naked, I mean that when I got enslaved, I got completely stripped, not even panties or shoes, nada, zip, bare-ass, zilch, nothing! All I've got on is a slave collar, leather bondage cuffs wrapped around my wrists and ankles and goose-bumps. And, I'm not just naked for the day, I don't wear clothes ever. I've got three years of slavery left and the store is going to have me completely nude every minute of it.

In fact, when the store bought me, Janice threw away all of my clothes and I mean literally all of them. Now, I don't even have a shoelace left to wear. It means that all of the store's customers are going to get to see all of me all of the time.

If a customer is offended by my nudity, I'm allowed to cover what little I can with my hands or get someone else to assist her but that's all. I'm never allowed to wear clothing or cover any part of my body behind something other than my hands. As a salesgirl, my skin is my uniform; I'm there to be seen and, as a slave, I have no choice but to smile and show myself.

As I look up at the front door, the line had grown to a couple dozen customers and they were all staring in the windows trying to get a glimpse of me. Anxiously, I walked behind the sales counter to give me as much modesty as possible -- at least my bottom half wasn't in view yet.

The reinstitution of slavery in the United States was just in its infancy and while the use of slaves had become quite common in the larger cities, in small towns like Glostonia, slavery was just getting started and a slaves like me were still very much a novelty. People often looked a little startled when they saw me, pointed at me, and whispered.

My nudity makes it worse. Even in urban areas, the use of naked slaves was just beginning and, in the rural areas, like Glostonia, slaves being made to work naked public was almost unheard of. In fact, I was the only slave in Glostonia to be forced to work in the nude, the only naked slave on public display.

It meant that, in Glostonia, my bare snatch was very, very newsworthy. Since I grew up in this town, everyone knew me, everyone knew about my enslavement, everyone knew all about my nudity, and everyone wanted to come see me. Even the local paper ran an embarrassing story a front page story, "Local Girl Becomes Naked Slave," and featured my photo, somewhat pixilated of course but it still showed a whole lot of me. However, the online news services and social media, didn't pixilate me at all and, with all the photos customers have taken of me circulating, my uncensored nudies are on probably 90% of the phones in this town.

Although I'd become somewhat of a celebrity among the men, I was a pariah to most of the women. Nevertheless, either way, now that I was a naked salesgirl slave, my bare twat was definitely getting its 15 minutes of fame. Even the women were coming down to see it, if nothing else to give me dirty looks, take a photo of me to show all their friends the shameless naked skank at the auto parts store, and then scandalize me in their gossip.

I hadn't intended to become a salesgirl slave, or any other type of slave for that matter, and I certainly never intended to be standing bare-ass all day in a store showing everyone my cunny for three years. I wanted to be an actress. I never dreamed that I'd end up like this but, as they say, shit happens.

After college, when I couldn't find a job in my major (theatre), I took a job at the auto parts store as a sales clerk. The pay was paltry but three of the four owners of the store were nice, the customers were friendly, and it was the only job I could find. The store 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, one employee (me) and the four partners. I generally worked the floor and had the janitorial duties while, the younger junior partners, in their mid-twenties, Sandy manned the register and her husband Larry made deliveries. The senior partners, in their thirties, consisted of Janice who worked the office, ordered inventory, and answered the phone while her husband Bill, a god when it came to auto parts, gave advice and installed parts.

Although there were four partners, as they were young and new to the business, neither Larry nor Sandy had the confidence to make any of the decisions and Bill rarely had the gumption to stand up to his wife Janice. It meant that Janice ran the store and I answered to her. But, everything changed when I got so far behind on my bank loans that my ass was about to get repo'd.

I know you probably thinking that collateralizing my student loans, credit card, and my car with my ass was a really dumb-shit and it probably was but, ever since they legalized slavery, it was really hard for anyone to get a loan without guaranteeing it with your freedom and I needed an education, a car, and a credit card.

After slavery got legalized and banks started loaning money on your looks, if you looked hot, your credit was hot. After seeing at me, my bank had no problems giving me all the credit I wanted so long as if I agreed to serve six years of slavery if I defaulted. At the time, it didn't seem that risky. How was I to know that I'd end up as one of the millions of Americans that would get their asses repo'd and sold into slavery? But, for reasons beyond my control, I got so far behind that I was only a week from getting picked up by the bank and sold. In desperation, to avoid a six year enslavement by the bank, I was forced to sell myself to the store for three years.

Let me tell you, when I sold myself to the store, it never crossed my mind that Janice might strip me, not for a second. After all, we were an auto parts store not a titty bar and we'd never used sex to sell anything. Janice didn't even allow me to wear shorts to work. So, I thought Janice would just continue to use me as a fully dressed sales clerk but with a lot more overtime. Little did I know that I was in for the greatest shock of my life.

Hoping that by stripping me she'd get a lot more customers, Janice decided to work me completely naked as a salesgirl. And, just like that, I suddenly found myself stranded bare-ass naked in the middle of my workplace with all my astonished co-workers and customers staring at my twat. I was totally stunned; taken by complete surprise.

Let me tell you, unless you've had the experience, you have no idea how nervous you feel when you're the only one naked in a room full of clothed people, everyone's staring at you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Particularly when a lot of the people eyeing at your cunny and photographing it are people who you know. Some gaze at me in awe, others in lust, many in amazement, while many others, particularly the older women, glared at me viciously in distain.

Wiggling my toes I contemplated what spending the next three years of my life barefoot and nude would feel like. I don't know if I'm ready for it. I've only been a slave for a few days and being forced into nudity 24/7 has already been an emotional roller-coaster. Giving admiring guys who I didn't really know a good look at my anatomy was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to have all my friends, teachers, guidance counselors, coaches, mailmen, relatives, neighbors, and school bus drivers all see me like this.

If you want a piece of advice, never get yourself enslaved in the town you grew up in because everyone in town, and I mean everyone, comes to see the spectacle of your enslavement. Since the store bought me and started working me bare-ass for everyone to see, we've been slammed -- a customer tsunami. It's been nonstop all day, every day and most of them know me. It's absolutely humiliating.

I looked down at my shaved hooch and wondered how many people would get to see it today, who'd they'd be, what they'd think of it, and what they'd think of me. I felt so bare and very vulnerable. I shivered, partly from the cold and partly from the anxiety. It's March and, even though the store turned up the heat for me, there's a draft. My nipples are pert and I'm covered in goosebumps. They're all over my legs, my arms, and even on my ass.

Being a naked slave in a room full of free, fully clothed, people really sets me apart. I wasn't a part of their society anymore; I was beneath that. I wasn't their equal anymore; I was an outcast, something between a person and a dog, something more than an animal but less than a human. My slavery rendered me subservient while my nudity, slave collar and leather bondage cuffs caused me to be a kinky spectacle, decidedly too profane and vulgar for polite society. Even at a casual glance, anyone would know that I was just a common slave; a naked submissive who's only purpose was to obediently serve free people.

I can't tell you how incredibly demeaning it is when girls I went to high school with would giggle at me. It causes me to really feel like a slave, an inferior class, when I have to politely service them in the nude while they snicker and make fun of me. Sometimes, as they laughed at me, their faces turned red in embarrassment at the shamefulness of my situation. It's a really degrading feeling to be helplessly reduced to being just a humiliating exhibition.

Even though they'd known me before my enslavement, to some of the girls that I knew, it's like I wasn't even a person anymore, just some debauched slave wench the store picked up to be its naked servant girl -- a cheap and immoral harlot who deserves whatever torment or ridicule she receives.

It's really, really, embarrassing but what could I do? It wasn't just that I was dressed as if I were a naked slave, or even that I was pretending to be a naked slave; I really was a naked slave. It wasn't my fault that I was publicly nude, collared, and in leather bondage cuffs; I had no choice. I couldn't get dressed or run away. As a slave, once the store bought me, they owned me, and Janice could show everyone my twat if she wanted to -- and she did.

Upon my enslavement, I became Janice's naked puppet to do with as she desired. I belonged to Janice now and she could show my anatomy to whomever she liked. For the next three years, my mind will be just a passenger in Janice's property -- my body. Now, everything I said, wore (or didn't wear), and did was dictated by the Janice. I didn't have a say in the matter.

Standing helplessly nude on the sales floor, I never have any idea who would walk in the door next and see me. It could be anyone, the man of my dreams, an old boyfriend who loved me, his mother who hated me, a former college professor, a nun, or people who just came in to laugh at my humiliation. Yet, at the same time, even as I'm squirming nervously in my embarrassment, it's a huge turn-on.

You see, it wasn't all bad. Even though I'm ashamed to admit it, since I've become a slave, I've discovered that I actually prefer to be nude around men. It's actually really exciting. Most of them absolutely adore me naked and, emotionally, I really needed that. I loved the look on their faces when they see me, the surprise, the delight, and the desire -- it's such a rush.

The first time a man sees me naked is always the best; there's always an electricity to it, for both of us. They don't have to be young and cute. If the guy likes what he sees, any age, color, body type, or looks could be a real turn on; if they enjoy it, I enjoy it. It energizes me. Since the store bought me, enslaved me, stripped me, and displayed me, there's been a steady stream of guys who suddenly need to buy an auto part, literally hundreds of them and I've only been a slave for a few days.

Even more nerve racking, but really exhilarating, are all the guys that I knew in high school and college who walk into the store eager to get a good look at me. I'm beginning to find out how many boys I knew had a crush on me (which apparently was a lot), how many want to see me naked (even more), and how many really, want to get a nudie photo of me (which apparently was all of them).

It was like every guy I knew, and most of the girls, were coming down to the store just to check me out and see what I looked like nude and wearing a slave collar -- even if it's just to see the expression on my face. It's a little overwhelming showing all those people my pussy and boobs as well as letting them take photos of me naked. Still, it's an incredible mind fuck to see how many men I knew really, really liked me and really, really, wanted to see me nude.

Although not everyone was happy about my nudity, particularly the women, one of the most exciting parts of being forced to be nude all the time was not having any control over who would see me, the helplessness and the submissiveness of being force to display myself naked in front of sorts of people. Depending on who walked in the door next, I was always in the position that in the next few seconds I could either be in exhilaration or humiliation, agony or ecstasy, and there was nothing I could do about it but stand there naked and wait for whomever walked in the door next.

Every day, I'd anxiously walk out on the sales floor, feel a morning cool breeze on my hooch, feel my nipples pert, feel the goosebumps on my ass, and feel the adrenaline start pumping as my cunny tingled with anxious anticipation of who would walk in the front door next, what they'd think of me, if they'd want to take a picture of me, and where they'd send or post my nude photo.

The uncertainty of what the day would bring was a big part of what made it so scintillating. There's an undeniable thrill to being stuck totally exposed and completely helpless in a crowd of people. Although I hate to admit it, as the minutes ticked down before we open, I couldn't help but feel wildly excited about whatever was going to happen next.

As I looked up, Bill unlocked the front door and the customers flooded in. Although my heart began racing and I felt fearful, my sex ached in sexual desire. Almost all men, the customers walking in the store were all looking at me intently and most were smiling with delight at what they saw.

Instantly, my libido spiked and my cunny moistened. Having men gaze at me like I was really something special, like I was the sexiest woman on earth, was something that just doesn't get old. In fact, it's addictive, like a drug. Once you've had a taste of it, you want more, more, more. Intoxicated by their adoration, I smiled back at them.

Suddenly I realized that I knew one of the young men in the line. A friend of mine, he'd been in my high school class, Bobby Altman. Transitioning into slavery had been such an emotional experience for me that I was really glad to see his friendly face.

Stepping out from behind the counter, I let him have a good look at all of me. Although he was just a friend and we'd never been romantic, I really wanted him to see me naked. You see, even though I like it when strangers enjoy seeing me naked, when guys I know and like are thrilled to see me nude, it's a huge, huge rush. Instantly Bobby's eyes lit up in excitement. Delighted with Bobby's exhilaration, I smiled, a big genuine smile, as I walked up to him and put a little shimmy in my step, just to make sure my titties jiggled.

"Hi Bobby," I gushed. "It's really great to see you."

Although a little shy, Bobby was super nice and I always thought he had a crush on me. Judging from the look on his face as he watched my titties giggle, I think I was right.

"Oh my god, you're gorgeous," Bobby said as he ogled at my nude body from my head to my toes.

I curtsied for Bobby, "I am your slave sir," I said with giddy enthusiasm. "How can I serve?"

Although I may have enjoyed welcoming Bobby more than most customers, the routine was the same. As a salesgirl slave, when I greeted a customer, I was always to curtsy respectfully, smile, declare my servitude, address him as sir (or ma'am if appropriate), and offer him my services. Even though he knew I'd be naked, Bobby was so excited by the sight of my nudity, he just stared at me in awe, as if he'd waited his whole life for this moment