Gabriela's Enslavement

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Road Trip

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The white, unmarked van purred down a Texas highway late at night, heading East. It was an ordinary utility van without rear windows, indistinguishable from millions of others on the road. It might have belonged to a plumber or an electrician or any other completely innocent small businessman. But this was NOT an innocent utility van, it was a slave transport, a small link in the world-spanning trading network dealing in human flesh and suffering.

Inside the van, bound together on a wooden shipping pallet, were two naked slave girls who woke up this morning as free women with no idea that slavery was in their near future. But that was this morning. Now they were powerless slaves, not even legally human. Both of them had been abruptly enslaved, stripped of their clothing and dignity, and then sold on the Big D Slave Market auction block this very afternoon.

Before leaving the Big D's shipping dock the two girls were tied together facing each other, then secured inside a two foot tall box with a sturdy plexiglass roof. Their packaging was reminiscent of a pair of dolls that one might purchase for Christmas. Except this package didn't contain wholesome plastic toys for children. It contained two living, breathing, FEELING human beings who had just been reduced to the legal status of human chattel. Both women WERE toys now, very expensive toys, sexual playthings for the rich men who bought them. Neither girl knew where they were going. Neither knew if she was going to be treated with kindness or cruelty.

"At least I have hope," Gabriela thought as she gazed into Bethany's gagged and tear-stained face. Given the tightness of their bindings, there wasn't really anything else she could do as she struggled to picture her own future.

This morning, Gabriela was one of Justin Bellefleur's favored employees. It was inevitable, of course. She was one of the very few attractive young women working at Bellefleur Financial. Factoring in her chipper, always-positive personality, it was inevitable that she would become the boss's favorite subordinate. Now she was Master Bellefleur's property. "Mister Bellefleur" was now "MASTER Bellefleur".

As Mr. Bellefleur's employee, Gabriela had always been treated with courtesy and decorum. In fact, perhaps a bit more decorum than she might have liked. He was the man she desired most, but he never made his move. And when she made HER move, he, in a disturbingly fatherly way, gently turned her aside.

But he owned her now. She was no longer an employee. She was no longer a person, she was property. That changes things.

She still held hope that, now that he owned her, he would continue to be kind. That wasn't guaranteed, though. Gabriela knew from her "Psychology of Slavery" classes that the power differential between master and slave was so vast that it could warp the perspective - and the actions - of even the most morally upright slave owner. Gabriela didn't think that could happen with HER master, but it was always a possibility. She herself had seen people who would never speak an unkind word to a free person... instantly and without provocation treat a slave with indifference or even cruelty. At the very least, any undesired action by any slave was likely to receive swift and harsh punishment.

It was one of the many things that had soured her perspective on her chosen profession. Gabriela initially started taking college level slavery classes in order to learn the tricks of the trade... so that she could avoid them. Four years later, here she was, a naked sex toy with a Baccalaureate in Slavery Studies. It was probably a good plan, but it didn't work. The odds were stacked against her. Wealthy men are willing to spend a lot of money to acquire ownership of a Prime-graded sex slave. And money... money talks. And when money talks, there's always someone willing to listen.

The other slave girl sharing Gabriela's crate was named Bethany. This morning she had been a college sophomore with a passion for sea turtle conservation and 20,000 followers on InstaTok. The Big D's social media marketing team lured her to the auction house under the guise of a "mock" auction to raise money for sea turtle conservation. In effect, her followers would donate money for conservation to offset the value she raised at auction, with the final figures determining whether she was freed or enslaved. With the naïve over-confidence borne of youth and popularity, Bethany thought that she could easily beat the odds. After all, her devoted followers would never let her down. And, truthfully, they hadn't. Bethany's legion of supporters waged a FIERCE online battle for her freedom... but they failed. They failed bravely, but they still failed.

Gabriela saw it take place. In ordinary life, being a pretty girl is a benefit. People are glad to see you. They smile and open doors, both literally and figuratively. But that's ordinary life. The world of legal slavery is different. When a slaver sees a pretty girl, he imagines her naked and under his power, submissive to his will. Where a normal human being with a soul sees a person, the slaver sees profit.

This afternoon while Bethany stood naked and trembling on the auction block watching the online voting numbers rise and fall, far too many onlookers didn't view her as a "damsel in distress" who needed to be saved. They saw her as a piece of prime pussy, fodder for the cruel business of converting human beings into servile sex toys. While the final minutes and seconds of Bethany's freedom played out, Gabriela -- leashed and collared - was with her new owner in the VIP box far above the auction floor. Below in the viewing stands she could see that dozens of slavers and audience members had their cell phones out. They were voting, too, and they almost certainly weren't voting to #SaveBethany.

It was only by the last-minute intervention of Master Bellefleur's friend, Joseph Do, that Bethany was saved from a cruel fate. All of the other top bidders were high-volume slave brothels that used their human chattel relentlessly. After three years as a slave whore... the results would not have been pretty. Bethany didn't know it yet, but one of the most ruthless and powerful slavers in the State of Texas owned her now. But he wasn't planning on whoring her out. Master Do bought Bethany as a gift for his son, and she was being sent to the same destination as Gabbie.

Gabbie didn't know what that destination was, but she believed that it was probably one of the many consort academies that had sprung up recently. The slavery business is cruel and destructive. Attractive, high-quality women who would have made excellent wives and daughters-in-law were being relentlessly destroyed every day by the uncaring machinery of modern capitalism. Various efforts had arisen to find these diamonds in the rough, polish them, and deliver them to a better fate. A consort is a special type of slave, she is more than a collection of attractive body parts and holes to use. A well-trained consort is a companion, a lover, and a friend. She understands home décor, current events, conversational skills, and presents an elegant appearance at social functions. If Gabbie and Bethany were fortunate, then that's where they were headed now.

Gabbie wanted to comfort Bethany with this information, but they were both gagged before they were packaged and shipped. All she COULD do was silently empathize with her eyes.

After some unknowable period of time in the semi-darkness, both girls fell asleep. In spite of everything that happened that day - or perhaps because of it - their exhausted bodies were lulled to sleep by the rumbling hum of the engine as they were shipped deeper into slavery.

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When Gabriela and Mr. Bellefleur first entered the restaurant to continue her initial job interview, she noticed that most of the diners had a slave kneeling beside their tables. Despite being a slavery studies major, Gabriela hadn't really been exposed to this side of things before. Most of her studies took place in the dry academic environment, far removed from the reality of how slavery was actually practiced. The only occasions that she had been around genuine slaves was seeing them out in public or in the industrial surroundings of one of the major auction houses. But now, she was seeing the master/slave relationship in a much more relaxed, intimate setting. She also noticed that she was one of the VERY few clothed women in the room. The vast majority of the diners were older men - like Justin Bellefleur - and the vast majority of the slaves were young women... like Gabriela Chavez. There WERE a few other clothed women in the room, but they were all older than Gabriela, and clearly connected to one of the powerful men who patronized this establishment.

Once they were seated, Gabbie realized that she was very out of place. She was a clothed young woman seated in a chair. Unlike the other young women in the dining room, she was sitting ACROSS from Mr. Bellefleur, not kneeling at his feet. She also noticed there was a slave mat next to Justin's chair, but not hers. She had a disturbing thought, one that had never crossed her mind before. "That's the spot where a girl like me belongs, on that slave mat, kneeling at Sir's feet. I should not sit at the table with him as though we are equals. Everyone will get the wrong impression and think ill of me."

Gabriela certainly didn't want to make the wrong impression. After all, this was an important job interview. She needed Mr. Bellefleur to be impressed with her. She removed her red suit jacket and, when Justin reached out a hand without saying a word, she handed it to him. He placed it out of her reach. No longer wearing a jacket, she was sure that he could now see the faint outline of her lacy demi-cup bra beneath the thin silk of her cream-colored sleeveless blouse.

"That's better," she thought, no longer feeling quite so out of place. After all, the other young women in the room also had their sexual attributes on display. It was only right that Gabriela should, as well.

It still wasn't enough, though. As Mr. Bellefleur began asking her probing questions about her resume and what her career goals were, she opened the buttons of her blouse one at a time and carefully arranged it to expose a deep "V" of tanned skin right down to the waistband of her sophisticated pencil skirt.

This satisfied her for a minute or two, and she was gratified to see his appreciative eyes drifting downward from time to time. But then his eyebrows would quirk together in a tiny frown of annoyance before returning to her face. Gabriela didn't want him annoyed with her; she wanted him to be pleased with her appearance. She glanced down to see what was wrong and immediately realized that she was still inappropriately dressed for this important business meeting. The lacy cups of her bra were more than half-exposed, lifting her breasts and putting them on display. Tiny half-moons of her dark brown areolae were plainly visible. Gabriela glanced around the room and confirmed that none of the other free women were wearing bras. Flushing with embarrassment at her wardrobe mistake, Gabbie quickly unsnapped the cups and handed the unnecessary garment to the sexy gentleman that she hoped would hire her. Then she rearranged her blouse to fully expose her breasts. That's the way an attractive young woman presents herself when having an intimate dinner meeting with a powerful man.

Master Bellefleur accepted the garment with a twinkle in his eye and tossed it into a conveniently placed trash can, where it burst into flames and vanished. Gabriela would never wear THAT bra again. In fact, she realized as she attempted to hike up her skirt to slip out of her panties, she would probably never wear ANY undergarments again unless Master wanted her to. The skirt was too tight, though. When she went shopping for an interview suit, she hadn't intended to buy something quite so sexy. But when she saw it in the shop window, she had to try it on. And, once she saw how great it made her butt and thighs look, she knew she had to have it whatever the price. Now it was in the way, though. It was keeping her from removing her panties for Justin. Without pausing the conversation or breaking eye contact, she rose in her seat, unzipped her skirt, and scooched out of both garments at once.

That was better. As Gabbie sat back down, she could feel the chair's smooth wooden seat on her bare bottom and now-fully-exposed vagina. It felt right to her. Mr. Bellefleur needed to see what her was buying.

Once again, the handsome older man received Gabriela's garments with a smile. He set the skirt off to one side after extracting Gabbie's red satin panties. He smiled at her as he rubbed them between his fingers. Gabriela was horrified to notice a distinctly-darker section of her panties directly on the crotch. He was going to think she was a slut! Master Bellefleur didn't seem upset by that, though. In fact, he gave her a VERY approving smile as he folded the panties thoughtfully and placed them in his breast pocket like a gentleman's pocket square.

Gabbie glanced nervously around and realized that all these other girls were sluts, too. And THEY had clearly passed THEIR "job interviews". In fact, several of them were obviously onto the next phase of their job qualification training, as they were busy servicing their Masters on their knees. In fact, there were no other clothed women in the room at all! Even the free women were busily servicing either another patron or one of the male slaves. Gabbie was the only woman still wearing clothing and sitting on a chair! She slid off the chair and onto the mat in front of her handsome and commanding Master, shedding her blouse as she did so, and reached for his...

"Bang!"

Gabriela was startled awake by the sound of a slamming van door. She hadn't even realized that she had fallen asleep. The box was extracted from the back of the van by a forklift, which whisked it into a large, open warehouse and placed it next to a wall.

Gabbie tried to give Bethany a reassuring smile. She was only two years older than Bethany, but she was already feeling a strong big-sisterly vibe toward the frightened girl. The age gap between them was three years, but Gabbie had worked in the slavery business as either an employee or a college intern for over a year now. She probably knew far more about what was happening to them and what to expect next. Unfortunately, they were both still gagged, and Gabbie still couldn't speak to her.

Gabbie couldn't really see much from her tightly-bound position inside the shipping crate, but she COULD hear two men talking as they maneuvered it into the warehouse. Gabriela Chavez came from an old Tejano family whose roots delved deep into the history of the State of Texas. Even deeper than that, they proceeded right THROUGH the Republic of Texas into the Mexican frontier province of Tejas. As far as she knew, she had at least three relatives at the Battle of San Jacinto. [If you don't know what that means, then look it up... infidel!]

Many people think of slaves as two-dimensional cartoon figures, either as slave meat to be used, or as hapless victims who need to be saved. Either way, regardless of ideology, most people don't really understand that enslavement doesn't turn off the brain or remove free will. Most people are idiots. Gabriela's mind worked just fine. As a native Texan, she immediately intuited from the men's accents that she was somewhere in East Texas. As a professional slaver, she deduced that they were at a wholesale transshipment warehouse, almost certainly in Texarkana. Beaumont was also possible, but there she would have expected to hear more sugar and less twang.

"Dang, boy, this is one of them new flat-packs, ain't it?" said the first voice. "It looks like a Christmas present, don't it? Two pretty dolls all packaged and ready to use. I bought my daughter a Barbie dolly last year, but I never thought I'd see a couple o' slave ho's boxed up like this. Whattaya say we hang 'em on the wall so we can look at 'em like a pitcher?"

"Yup, I bet they're anatomically correct, too," replied another man, snickering cruelly at his own joke.

"I feel like it's gonna be an early Christmas this year, let's open it up!"

"Settle down and get that prybar," the second man commanded calmly. Whoever he was, he was clearly in charge of his comrade. Gabriela experienced an immediate desire to please him in any way possible. Intellectually, as one who had studied the ancient art of slavery in academia, Gabbie knew that desire was an artifact of her enslavement. It didn't make it any less real, though. She really, honestly, and truly wanted to please this man. He was in charge. He was powerful. He could protect her.

After some initial confusion about how to open their "Christmas present", the two men figured it out and Gabriela and Bethany soon found themselves shivering in the cool night air in the "inspection" position, which was standing with the feet shoulder-width apart and the hands clasped on the backs of their heads. It exposed absolutely all of their everything to anyone nearby, which was the point. Speaking of "points", Gabbie could feel that her nipples were rock hard and aimed at the far wall. Either due to the temperature or her arousal, it didn't matter which. She was presenting the appearance of the "ready-to-use slut" that these men probably imagined her as.

Back at the Big D, before the cover was placed on their packaging, plastic bags containing their ownership papers and shipping documents were taped to their thighs. It was done with the same impersonal efficiency as a shipping clerk labelling a cardboard box before delivering it to the post office. The girls flinched as the supervisor pulled the document pouches off and tossed them on a nearby desk.

Gabriela strove to stare straight ahead as she stood unmoving on the cold concrete and not at the two men who prowled around her like a pair of predatory lions examining a fresh kill. Her skin twitched and shivered involuntarily as surprisingly gentle, calloused fingertips slid along her flanks.

"Jordon, put this in the receiving report," said the supervisor, "slave 5993 has a rectangular mark on her lower right ribcage with two dots in the middle. Looks like a taser burn or maybe she was just punched with it. Doesn't matter, just make sure it's recorded in case anyone complains about it later. Bend over, slut. Ankles."

Oddly, Gabriela didn't feel insulted at all by his use of the word "slut". It was an accepted term for a slave in the human livestock business, an acknowledgement of the fact that every slave was expected to be completely available for sexual use at all times. But there was more to it than that. Gabbie could hear it in his voice. This man wasn't judging Gabbie. He wasn't communicating that he thought less of her for being sexually available to anyone who wanted it. He just wanted her to bend over.

Gabriela bent at the waist and grabbed her ankles. Her thick ponytail of luxurious, dark hair fell to the dirty warehouse floor. Hopefully, she would have a chance to wash it before Master Justin saw her again. She really was in love with Justin and desperately wanted to please him. She had been in love with him for months now, but the conditions were never right for her to tell him that. She assumed he didn't want to be seen as a powerful man preying on one of his young female employees. Conversely, she didn't want to be viewed as a gold digger pursuing a wealthy CEO. That was the only thing that kept them apart for the past year. But Gabriela was a slave now. Master Bellefleur owned her. She could give in to her desires to be his submissive fucktoy. She wanted it, and she hoped the HE wanted her in the same way.