I'm a Slave Now?

I'm a slave?

The word nervous could never describe how I feel right now. I still don't believe that this is happening, that I'm really doing this. Never before have I considered that I'm seriously messed up in the head like I am right now. That I'm not the normal person I always thought I was, the woman with the 10 year career in the oil and gas industry...but a pervert. A sexual deviant. The sort of person that parents tell their children not to date.

The truth is, I don't want this. Not any more. I want to stop it before it happens to me. Before they get a chance to not just sexually use and abuse me, but to humiliate me in ways I can't grasp.

I'm standing in a long line towards the front as I am behind a few women and a couple of guys. We are all waiting in this backstage area to talk to the person behind the desk. To talk to the person behind the desk, who is directing everyone that is part of this convention on where they are to go and what to do.

Looking around, I know I would normally be impressed by how they have set up. I mean, this was once empty warehouse, but now they converted it into a convention center that has to have well over a thousand people in it. This once abandoned warehouse is in the middle of an empty part of town, where it is at the same time a secret and public event. You might even think that this is a normal event too, like a comic-con or something as there are staff, security, waiters and more working. But it only takes a single glance around the huge main floor on the convention to see this is in no way normal.

A few months ago I noticed that my life was, well, boring. Boring is a nice word to describe it. I just happened to discover that I had no life. That I just lived for my career. I had no boyfriend, no kids, no real hobbies, no nothing. Just wake up, go to work, work late, come home to a single serve dinner and close to a bottle of wine. I discovered not only was I bored, but that I was missing out on life.

I knew I needed a change. More than that, I wanted fun. It had been so long since I had fun that I was desperate for it. And, to be honest and upfront, I wanted to get laid. Having sex was never an issue for me as it is always easy to get a partner for that, but even that got boring. Most guys just did the same act, and it lasted about 20 minutes at most. I wanted new. I wanted exciting. I wanted to experience feelings that I hadn't felt before. I wanted to experiment.

I started to seek out new kinks and learn about ones I had been curious about. So I would spend most of my free time on Reddit, going to various sub-reddits to learn what I could about BDSM, non-con, Domination, hucows and so much more. Sure I learned about a few kinks that were gross or ugly, but it felt like a new world was opened up. From this, I found a whole host of new friends. Granted, many were loser guys that were virgins desperate to try and have sex. They were easily blocked through.

That's when I learned about the

MasterEffect

event, which is basically a kink convention. And MasterEffect hosted what is known as the SlaveLife program. In a nutshell, it is similar to FetLife, but with a much more defined purpose. It goes, well, beyond FetLife. FetLife to me is more of a social network meant to encourage conversation with people in the kink community. The SlaveLife program is, well, designed to pair you up WITH the community.

"Next," the woman behind the desk calls out in a "I work at the DMV" sort of voice. The line moves forward as the man that was just served walks off in a collar and with a rather large man leading him away. Granted, the man in the collar has a look of ecstasy on his face, even if he wears the clothes of a banker.

I signed up for this. I can't believe it, but I signed up. Signed up to be apart of SlaveLife. That's what having a lot of wine gets you. And worse of all, when I signed up, I was honest. I was honest about all the things I wanted to experience. Lord help me I was honest and upfront about it all. And now I've never been so terrified about what's going to happen. Never have I tried to think up a way out of this.

You might be thinking, "so what?" That you just forget that you signed up, or you just don't show up. MasterEffect thought of that too. That's why to sign up, you have to put down a deposit. A HUGE deposit. Like, some people would consider it a car down payment. Hell, some might call it payment for a full car. Anyway, you put down the deposit and after 6 months of being active, they refund it back to you. That's why the program is such a success because only the serious are involved. With that said, if you don't go to events, if you don't contribute to the community, they take that money and you never get it back. Did I mention the deposit is HUGE?

"Next!" the woman behind the desk calls out again and the line moves forward, leaving just the person in front of me. Seems most of the others were part of a group that went up together.

My heart pounds harder and faster now, as my fate is about to happen shortly. My legs feel like jelly and there's cold sweat forming on my forehead. How the hell do I get out of this? They made it clear that by showing up, I was agreeing to their terms of service, meaning they get to do as they want. I came her thinking I could just calmly explain it to someone that I am uncomfortable with it and they would let me out of it with my deposit. But after looking at the lady, I don't know if she would care if someone was on fire in front of her.

How do I get out of this? As I think about what is about to happen to me, I try to think up a smart way that will solve all my problems. Only...a part of me doesn't want to get out of it. A part of me really wants to go through with it. And that's the part that scares the ever loving hell out of me.

"Next," the woman at the desk calls, leaving me as the next person as the woman in front of me walks up. Nervous, I glance behind me to see the line is extraordinary long, with most looking as nervous as I do. The rest appear to be smiling and extremely happy, like kids at Christmas.

"Next," the woman at the desk calls out, and I turn to see that the woman whom was in front of me has removed her long jacket to reveal a skin-tight latex outfit. She takes an old school hand fan with a number on it, as if she's about to go to an auction. I see her walk off with her hips swaying, making it painfully obvious that she is a mistress and in charge.

"Next," the woman calls out again, annoyed, making it very clear that it is my turn. I fear I'm going to fall over as my legs feel so weak as I walk towards her. She doesn't look at me or even acknowledge me as I start to walk over, either. She just keeps tapping at the tablet in front of her. I begin to fiddle with my hands as I move to the desk, so nervous that I wonder if I can have a heart attack from this. It sure feels like I could at the moment, even if I am just 30.

"Name?" The woman at the desk asks. "M-M­-Mia. Mia G-Garcia," I stammer out, my voice sounding weak, soft and for some reason stupid. For some reason I can't look at the lady directly. It's as if I'm embarrassed or something. So I just settle for stealing glances at her while looking at the ground.

I open my mouth to talk, but no sounds come out. As I was driving here, I had thought up a speech to explain myself. To say how I am not comfortable with this, and in a way it is emotional blackmail what they are doing to me. That I should have the right to not just leave, but to take my deposit with me. Only, I can't say the words. It's the woman. There's something about her. I could recite the worlds best speech and I have a feeling she would just yawn. The only thing that will impress her is when there is no more line.

"Garcia, Garcia," the woman repeats as she scrolls down on the tablet that she has. Then she finds my name in the list, and taps at the tablet. I happen to steal a glance at her right as I see her eyes widen in surprise as she reads my profile. This feels me with utter dread as this woman looks as if she's seen everything under the sun, and yet my profile surprises her. Fear like a icy tidal wave washes over me to this, making me wonder where the homeless will find my body at as I feel like I won't survive this.

"Ok. This...is going to be interesting," the woman says amused as she reads the tablet. I again look at the ground as I don't think I can look at her in the eyes after what she knows. That she knows what a weirdo sex-fiend I am because I was too honest when I signed up. That she knows of all the things I admitted I wanted to try.

"Alright. Take off all your clothes and put them in this bag," the woman says without any real emotion as she holds a large clear bag like a jumbo Ziplock bag.

"W-W-W-What?" I stammer out, thinking that I must have misheard her. I mean, I know this is a kink event, but there's no way she would want anyone naked here. We are in the backstage area anyway. I haven't seen a single naked person yet. Hell, I haven't even seen someone wearing something that couldn't be called professional clothes.

"You are Slave 031. By attending this event today, you released any and all rights. Since slaves like you are pathetic, stupid and have super huge titties, you are deemed too dumb to wear people clothes," the woman informs me sternly.

I'm stunned by this, especially as she says it so loud that clearly most in line hear it. And the way she accented the word 'titties' makes me cross my arms in front of my chest in an effort to hide them. It's an odd time to think this, but I don't think I've ever heard another female use that word in real life. In TV shows or movies, yeah. But most consider that too crude of a word to describe a female's anatomy that they wouldn't use it. Yet...she did. And she used it to describe my breasts.

"Strip bitch, unless you would like security to do it for you?" she asks in a no-nonsense manner. I still don't move to this. Instead I open my mouth to say something. Only, the woman gets an evil sort of smile on her face. For the first time I think she is enjoying her job here.

"Let me guess. You don't want to do this anymore? That you came to tell me how you are too scared or maybe too uncomfortable with all this. That we are just being big bullies to make you do this?" the woman says, motioning around to all the activity in the backstage area. For a moment I nearly say, "I was going to call you emotional terrorists," but I see now that I'm not the first in this position. That I'm probably the latest in a long line.

"That's too bad you stupid bitch. And it's far too late for that. Legally we own your dumb ass. So...show all these nice people your big fat titties and that bitchy pussy, or I'm going to call security to do it for you," the woman threatens and I know she means it. And I can tell she is using such crude language not because she wants to, but because she knows how embarrassed it makes me.

The image of huge men ripping off my clothes in front of everyone gives me the motivation to do as I am told. This is bad enough, but to be stripped like that has no dignity at all.

And the first thing I do is remove both of my shoes and then socks to become barefoot. Utterly embarrassed and humiliated, I keep looking at the ground as I put each item in the open bag that the woman holds out.

Feeling the cold tile under my bare feet sends a powerful tingle over me. A sort of tingle that I've never felt before. I feel all eyes on me now, wanting to see me naked. Wanting to see me be the slave that I signed up for even if I don't want to do it. I almost look over and call out for someone to help me, but I know no one would.

My shaking hands unbutton my top, which is much harder than it should be do to how bad I'm trembling. But once I get it undone, I slide off the silk-looking top to reveal my white lacy bra. At this, someone whistles, and then everyone laughs. Hearing this produces a very strange reaction within me. I become more than aroused...down there..

Now my hands move to my slacks. They too become unbutton, but instead of pulling them down, I hold them there, not prepared to do this, I mean, for everyone to see me in my panties. Then, holding my breath, I yank them down, exposing my bare legs and white cotton panties to the world. When I do this, I hear murmuring which makes my face turn so very red.

I nearly fall over as I try to get out of my slacks, which causes a large amount of laughter. This makes me look around to see something that nearly gives me a heart attack. There's a crowd watching now. It's gone beyond just the people in line. Now anyone that was in the area has stopped to watch. In fact, I think they have called people over just to watch me. I thought I read that the "true" action is on the main floor and not here, as this is like the backstage.

"Look slave 031, there's a line of people still waiting to be processed so they can go to the convention," the woman behind the desk says in her annoyed manner. To this, I nod my head and place my slacks into the bag she holds.

I bite my lip as I move my hands behind my back to find my bra clasp. Looking to the side as I never thought this would be so damn humiliating, I grab the clasp. Moving my hands in different ways, I unclasp my bra to loosen the hold they held on my breasts. And then, I do it. I do it fast. I yank down my bra, exposing my bare breasts for everyone to see.

Cheers. There's

cheering

. Cheering and crude comments, making my face bright red. I feel as if in a daze as I stuff my own bra into the bag along with my other clothes, my breasts jiggling around. Unable to help it, I hold my breasts in my left hand which is a silly thing to do as that doesn't really hide anything as I have F cup breasts. They don't look like they are that size thanks to my compressing bras, but they are.

The cheering is still going on when my hands grab the waistband of my panties. I pull them down, exposing not just my bare ass, but my shaved womanhood for everyone to see. The cheering gets even louder, making me even more humiliated. Only, I don't get the cheering. Surely on the main floor there are plenty of naked people. Lot of sex. How is this any different? Why are they doing this to me?

"In case you are wondering..." the woman behind the desk says, as if reading my mind. "...they are cheering because they love to see a strong woman give in to the kinks that she's denied herself for so long. Or, in more simple terms, they love seeing a dumb bitch like you get what you deserve," she tells me with that smile, revealing that she does indeed have emotions as I stuff my panties in the bag.

Not sure what to do, I use an arm to cover my breasts and the other hand to cup my womanhood. Right as I do this, two large figures come next to me and grab each arm. They grab my arms very painfully, causing me to struggle against them. I only stop when I see that they are the convention's security. Painfully they yank my arms upward to hold them high over my head, not allowing me to cover anything.

"Smile," the woman behind the desk says and then there's a bright flash as she takes my picture with a polaroid camera. To this, I gasp. She took my picture. A picture of me...naked. NAKED! NO! She can't do that!

"You picked a hell of a year to sign up as a slave," the woman comments as she takes the photo from the mouth of the camera. "This is your auction photo by the way," she says as she waves the photo to help it dry. "You see, normally we have over a hundred and fifty female slaves that attend this event. But thanks to the virus, that number is down to 38, yet, the amount of owners have doubled, tripled even. The slaves this year are going to have a hell of a time during auction, because the owners get to request what they...w-well....you'll find out," she says and then laughs a knowledgeable laugh. To this I hear the two security guys chuckle as well, filling me with a great amount of dread.

The security staff keeps my hands up as she says all this, not caring that my feet are basically not even on the floor. Yet, as odd of a situation that this is, it did remind me of how impressed I was by this place and the security. Like how everyone that entered tonight had to get tested with that new 5 minute results test for the virus. Just like they made sure that everyone knows what STDs others have here so there's no hiding or infecting others that aren't aware.

"Alright, as fun as this is, I'm not wasting any more time on a dumb, big titted slave. These two men are your owners for the time being. You do as they say, and nothing bad happens. Don't do as they say, and they can do everything and anything they want, in front of any number of people. With that said..." the woman tells the guard, only pausing to look at the tablet. "Take her to Department H," she tells them, finding what she needed on the tablet.

"I will say, I'm looking forward to see this one getting auctioned. I'm pretty sure she has the biggest tits of all the slaves this year," the woman says with that same smile. "Next!" she then calls out.

"Walk that way, hands on your head," the guard on my right says, pointing to a hallway that is behind the desk about 40 or 50 feet. Then the two of them drop me so my feet actually touch the ground. The way they do this makes me feel as if I weigh 10 pounds. They are just so huge.

This is the reason I shoot my hands up and put them on top of my head. After doing this, I start walking, just as they want as I am not going to do anything to make them upset in any way.

I walk now, putting distance between me and my clothes, having to feel my breasts jiggling and bouncing with each step. I've walked without a bra countless times, but this time it feels different. I'm more aware of the way they jiggle and bounce around. It makes it feel and look comical to me too.

I walk forward, trying not to look at any of the countless people, both men and women looking at my naked body. As I pass, most stop to look at me. A few even ask the guards what my slave number is, as if they mean to make sure they will bid on me.

Unable to help it, I tell myself several times, "This can't be happening!" I mean, I'm being paraded around, NAKED in front of strangers. At least a hundred people have seen me like this...a slave.

That's when I realize that I'm no longer backstage. They've walked me through hallway after hallway so that I'm now on the main floor of the convention, but not fully. I remember looking at the convention map and how all around the perimeter they had special sections for the various groups/kinks. The main floor had all the small booths and tables where most of the people will go as that's where you meet and see new things, but the perimeter had the locations where there was privacy and the more, ummm, extreme kinks.

As I walk through the area like a prisoner as the two guards are on either side, I see all of the workings of the convention. There's so much going on that they are preparing for. From those making sure the nurse tent is set up correctly to someone making sure there are enough handcuffs to sell. Hell, I even walk past a woman explaining to a small group about the correct way to kick a man in the balls without doing serious damage.

"Here," the other guard states as we approach a dark, makeshift hallway made of dark blue tarp, in an area that doesn't have any people except for one, and that's a guy who looks like a farmer, sitting and reading a newspaper. Once down this hallway, I see this area is set up with makeshift stalls, almost like where they might keep horses or other farm animal. I'm a bit confused by this, as my first guess is that this is where they keep slaves at before the auction. Only...I see no other slaves around. So what is this place?