Liz Enslaved 01 Rug Pull

Liz Enslaved: Rug Pull

By Annie

Author's notes:

This is a direct sequel to "

Coffee With Blushes

", my first story on Literotica. It's probably understandable without reading "Coffee", but you'll get more out of it if you do.

This story takes inspiration from Carl Bradford's "

Going Around to Cum Around

", but goes in a very different direction.

----------

Darkness. The cage rocked from side to side, bouncing her off the chicken wire. With her hands zip-tied behind her, she couldn't protect her head. Sound of an electric motor--was a fork lift moving her?

The cage suddenly dropped, Slam!, hitting the ground hard enough to hurt her knees. The cloth cover was whipped off her cage. The room was very brightly lit. She blinked and squinted.

That's on purpose. They keep us in darkness, then maximize glare. Keep us off balance, keep us intimidated.

Naked (

slave naked

, her mind whispered), she was now exposed to everyone around. The bright light blinded her dark-adjusted eyes.

She heard, but could hardly see, the cage door being removed. "3349, crawl forward to the line and Present!"

Present, that's one of the standard slave positions. I think I remember from Slave Yoga. Knees apart and OH CRAP I'M 3349 "Yes, Ma--"

She had waited too long to acknowledge the order, and she felt a light touch on her back, right between the shoulder blades

it's the electric prod!

, followed by agony and muscle spasms and the feel of her nose hitting the cage bottom as she lost control of her movements. A distant, rational part of her was thinking

At least my head was already close to the ground. No concussion

. Most of her was shrieking, then moaning. The cage was so small she couldn't fall over, she was still balanced on her knees. She could feel warm wetness running down her leg.

I just pissed myself

. The slave wrangler, who she still hadn't seen, said, "Too slow, 3349. You are required to acknowledge and obey all orders immediately, not when you happen to feel like it." His voice wasn't excited or angry or even harsh. It was borderline bored.

Liz managed to choke out a strangled, "Y-y-yes, Master." She struggled out of the cage, and then had to move toward a line on the floor with muscles that didn't want to obey. It was only six feet. Walking, less than a second. On her knees, hands bound behind, in pain, and near-panic, it felt like hours. Her long, thin light-brown hair hung in individual strands over her shoulders, half in front and half down her back. It was strangely frustrating not to be able to fix it. She had to look a fright.

Not that I was ever a prize.

Freckles on very pale skin, small breasts, thin lips. A few back acne scars, just to add some extra self-consciousness now that she was naked.

There was a slave girl to her right. She struggled to kneel in Present position correctly, wishing Mrs. Olds was there to help.

If I make it through this, I should let Mrs. Olds know the Slave Yoga course wasn't a compulsory waste of my time. Did I just think "if" I make it? I'm really terrified. Deep breaths, Liz.

Even thinking of herself as "Liz" was defiance. She was 010-541-3349 until her owner assigned her a name. Dangerous. She had to seem perfect.

She didn't get punished for her Present kneel, at least. Another slave crawled to the line at her left, and was ordered into position. She did the "Yes, Master" thing perfectly. Liz could hear one more slave ordered out of her cage and lined up. Keeping her head and eyes facing forward perfectly, she was barely aware of the slaves on either side. She was getting goosebumps, naked in this... warehouse? She kept her eyes on the floor. Meeting a master's eyes could be dangerous.

A tall, muscular, light-skinned Black woman with her hair in a in a startling purple mohawk

no, look down, not at their faces!

walked out in front of them and recited, "This is the Circle-Q Trading Post, a division of Quarry Enterprises. We are a licensed slave training and auction business. You will be processed and trained here for sale as domestic or pleasure slaves. Your collars can deliver electric shocks, which can be anything in between very painful and knock-you-to-the-ground-screaming painful. If you attempt to leave the building without permission, the collar will incapacitate you and sound an alarm. You are now slaves. You do not have the right to disobey any order or rule. Our staff can and will administer punishments including electric shock, whips, and starvation in cases of disobedience. If you follow instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?"

All the slaves made a rough chorus of "Yes, Mistress." Liz hoped no one noticed that she had been slightly late on the "Mistress" part.

To her right the man who had shocked her said, "Open." He sounded bored. This was just a day for him, and probably the worst day in the lives of all the kneeling women. "Yes, Master" and then a hissing noise. Same routine for the woman on her right, then "Open" to Liz as well. The wrangler was holding a spray can with a hose on it, like a tire inflator, with the nozzle right in front of her mouth. Trembling, she said in a shaky voice, "Yes, Master" and left her mouth open. Nozzle between her teeth, then that hiss. The spray was cold and left a tingling sensation in her mouth and throat. As soon as he was done, the man moved on to her right.

That's DeVox. I knew this would happen, and I'm so scared I'd wet myself, if I didn't already do that.

Another wrangler was doing something to her right, now, as the man finished with the last slave in line. "Hold still." Purple Mohawk's voice. Of course, the slave could no longer say, "Yes, Mistress." She was devoiced. Depending on the drug concentration and the dose, they might not be able to speak for anywhere from one to six hours.

I wish knowing about pharmaceuticals would help me here.

Mohawk got to Liz. "Hold still," She tried to say, "Yes, Mistress" and nothing happened, just air escaping her mouth. Ignoring this, Mohawk pressed an automatic syringe against her arm. There was a slight, sharp pain and a feeling of pressure. Shit, shit, shit. That had to be a shot of Horny Juice, ildeslafine. She could feel her face contort and go pale, feel the cold sweat break out. Even someone who had to be an experienced slave wrangler was surprised at the reaction. Mohawk said, "Don't be that scared, 3349. That's the part of today that'll be fun!" and then moved on to do the next woman.

Her arm only stung for a few seconds. She tried not to shake too hard, now in what had to be a panic attack.

The man was going down the line saying, "Hold still" again. I know what comes next, and I can NOT freak out and get punished again. That might break me.

Sure enough, what came next was a collar, a light piece of metal, very cold against her bare skin. The "snap" sound it made wasn't scary by itself, but she jolted at it. She would be wearing one of these for almost 5 years. Now a master could give her one of those jolts with a remote control.

Purple Mohawk was in front of the line of slaves, about ten feet from the line on the ground. She said, "Slaves: look at me." Liz raised her eyes to see Mohawk holding a large remote control. It looked industrial, with big clunky buttons, not modern-looking with black-on-black recessed buttons like the ones she had seen slave owners holding in the street, or in

Indenture

episodes. "You have been fitted with slave collars. Trying to remove them will cause terrible, terrible pain. Disobey your masters and they will activate the collar and cause you terrible pain. Obedience is the only way you can be happy."

That's a very useful thing for slaves to be thinking about, isn't it, wrangler?

"I am now going to test your collars. Each of you will receive the weakest possible shock, Level 1. This is not a punishment, it is a requirement to test your new collar."

That's a lie. They could have tested them before locking them on us. It's an excuse to ramp up the fear.

Thought ended as the pain came, shaking her so badly she almost lost her balance and fell. It wasn't as bad as the zap in the cage, but bad enough. It was somehow worse because she couldn't scream, or whimper, or even weep aloud because of the devoicing.

As she regained control, she noticed Mohawk looking directly at her. She quickly lowered her eyes. She became aware of her own stink, suddenly, urine now cooling on her left thigh and becoming sticky. The piss was also making her labia tingle. Or could that be the Horny Juice already starting to work?

The female wrangler said, "You are now the property of Circle-Q Trading Post. Our business is to process slaves, increasing your value, and then sell you, usually at auction. You will be trained in how to be a valuable slave. You are what are called 'term slaves'. At the end of your terms of indenture, you will return to your legal status as full citizens. It is possible to extend your term by acts of disobedience. Proper obedience, and mastering the skills we teach you, will avoid that penalty, and also make your period of indenture happier and easier for you."

I can't look up, but I think she's reading from a script, or memorized one. That doesn't sound like how anyone would talk naturally.

"3349, heel!" That was the male wrangler who had devoiced her. Liz tried to say "Yes, Master," but of course, she was devoiced and nothing came out. "Heel" commands include permission to stand. She struggled to her feet, much harder with hands bound behind her back. Liz kept her eyes on the floor and followed him to a sort of standing desk. He clipped a leash to her collar and fastened the other end to the desk, where there was a handy ring, actually several. He waved some handheld at her, and there was a hauntingly, painfully familiar "chirp" noise. It was the exact sound the registers at "her" drugstore, SVM 92811, made when scanning a bar code. Scanning her slave registration chip.

He typed mysterious things into a computer. Then he pulled out her lower lip to inspect the new tattoo inside, and compared it to her slave number from the scan. Rummaging in a drawer, he found a pair of handcuffs. He fastened one to her right wrist, then in a single quick move cut the zip-tie holding her hands together, whipped both her arms in front of her, and locked the cuffs. The tie fell to the ground. It had to take practice and experience to do it that smoothly. Her shoulders ached with returning circulation. She could smell his cologne, and under it his masculine odor. It was enticing.

Oh, crap, that is definitely Horny Juice kicking in. I like sex and all, but in this situation....

He still hadn't spoken to her, or even looked at her except for the tattoo check.

I'm a not-very-interesting animal. And that's great, except for my drug-addled body demanding attention.

She could feel the urge getting stronger. She was a trained pharmaceutical technician and pharmacology student, she knew that injected ildeslafine--Horny Juice--would reach maximum effectiveness about an hour after administration. It had only been a few minutes and she was struggling not to caress this stranger. What would it be like in an hour? It wasn't just the odor, he had such a commanding presence, and wide, strong shoulders, and...

STOP IT, Liz!

Still without looking directly at her, the man unhooked her leash from his desk, said, "Follow," still with no emotion but total confidence. That confidence was so sexy

Stop it!

He called out, "Taking 3349 to the vet."

I lectured Maria once about how slaves get veterinary care.

A voice she didn't recognize called back, "Hey, Phil, can you pick up 887-579-9921? She pissed, too. Lessons-only, her master bought her private and wants her trained up. Room WL-213."

"Yeah, no problem." He led Liz out of the room, down gray halls and into another green-walled room like the one she had been unloaded in. One slave was there in that enormous room, caged the same way Liz had been, all alone. It was an Asian-looking woman, girl really, very short, even shorter than Maria.

I keep thinking about her. I miss her already. I wonder if I'm doing that to avoid thinking about Ben.

She resolutely didn't think about Ben, but now her pussy was warming up and her nipples were hardening. With the drug, it was hard not to dwell on how good Ben had been in bed, until those last few weeks.

No, dammit! That's two things I shouldn't be thinking about, sex and betrayal.

Both leashes in the tall, well-built

Stop it!

wrangler's left hand, they were led down through an automatic-opening door and down a short hallway to a room that looked like a gym shower--no privacy, lots of tile and drains. No shower heads, though, just several coiled hoses against one wall.

There were enema nozzles on some of the hoses. And rings to bind slaves to the wall.

---------

The wrangler, Phil, was using a hose to wash the results of their enemas into a drain. "Tomorrow, you'll learn to give yourself an enema. Your masters may want anal sex. Piss now, slaves. You won't get another chance for a while. If you piss on the floor you'll be punished. Get anything left in your butt out now, too. Leak that, you'll be very, very sorry."

This is meant to degrade us more. We don't even rate a toilet. He reminds me of Blondie, that barista who was so horny over Maria. If I had him here, I'd show him who's STOP IT! Blondie would like me now, though, he was really into slavery STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!

Finally, the wrangler turned a hose on her. The cold water was enough to instantly start her shivering. He was very thorough, rinsing off her behind and legs from several angles, doing the same thing to the Asian girl, and using the hose to wash the floor again.

That's one beautiful girl. I'll start by kissing her lips, then move down to her boobs STOP IT ALREADY, LIZ!

Even the extremely cold water had only paused her growing lust.

If this gets much worse, I'll be like Bethany, season 2 episode 1. I probably shouldn't be thinking about

Indenture

while I'm trying to control myself.

There was a whole-body hot air dryer for slaves, it turned out, which was uncomfortable and frighteningly loud. At least it ended her (and the girl's) trembling. The girl had straight, jet-black hair down to her waist, now hopelessly snarled and blown around by the air blast.

Then down a short hallway to a door labeled, "Slave Veterinarian". The door and the walls of the room they faced were glass. She could see a lab-coated older woman inside, then quickly lowered her eyes. Looking masters in the face, dangerous.

Wrangler guy ordered them to kneel side-by-side, then clipped their leashes onto rings in the floor and went inside.

Suddenly she realized that she and the Asian girl were leaning into each other, naked and bound. The girl leaned over and kissed her left nipple, and she jumped and gasped, trying and failing to moan at how pleasurable it was. The tiny remaining rational part of her was thinking,

Are my boobs firmer from the drug? Is that making it even more pleasurable?

Her handcuffed hands could just about stroke the girl's pussy in this position, she discovered. They had just barely started pleasuring each other, though, when large hands grabbed their shoulders and pulled them apart.

"I guess I didn't actually order you to not fuck." Her heart was pounding from the interrupted makeout, she could feel the coolness of saliva evaporating from her nipple and she needed

more

. The wrangler thought it was funny. "3349, you'll be seeing the vet first. 9921, you and me will have a bit of fun while we wait."

Wow, she's lucky STOP IT! Dammit.

As they stepped inside, he said, "Here's your first patient from this batch, doc. She's had 5 units of DeVox and 5 milligrams of Horny Juice."

The slave vet's office was not like a doctor's office. The hitching post thing outside was the waiting room, so this little 10x10 foot glass-walled cubicle was the treatment room. Chicken wire cage big enough for one slave, exam table with rings to help restrain someone to it, cabinets and a sink and a trashcan. Big monitor behind the exam table, currently displaying a screen saver reminding everyone to wash their hands. Harsh glaring lights. The glare has to be deliberate. They want us intimidated. She remembered and lowered her gaze quickly, not to be punished for looking the vet in the eye. "Present, 3349." Tried again to say, "Yes, Master" and still couldn't talk. She knelt, carefully assuming the position, which exposed her darkened and flushed labia to anyone who looked at her. Which was only exciting her more. Her thoughts were flying, randomly flinging up stuff like,

I wonder if Maria felt like this when she took the stuff.

A woman's voice, "How long ago, Phil?" She sounded older than Liz, maybe 50. Pleasant voice, deep and soothing, just a hint of vibrato. Sounded sexy.

Oh, come on, you stupid drug.

It came to her: at least she wasn't so scared. She was too busy being horny.

"Say, 20 minutes ago, maybe half an hour."

"OK, thanks. I'll do the usual checks and prep. Say, half an hour, maybe 40 minutes until I'm ready for the next one, give or take.

"I'll wait outside with 9921, then. I can bring her in and take 3349 to the kennel."

"Enjoy 'waiting', Phil." she could actually hear the sound of the air quotes, still staring at the floor and unable to see the vet. Sound of a closing door behind Liz.

The vet's voice changed completely when she addressed Liz. The "Talking to a nice dog" voice was how most people addressed slaves, when they were obedient and "good".

"OK, 3349, get up and climb onto this table. Just sit on the edge, with your legs hanging down--you don't need to kneel during an examination. Good girl!"

"Now, I have two jobs. One job is to get some medical information about you. I'm going to weigh you, get some measurements, take a blood sample and some other kinds of samples, listen to your heart, ask you questions. Mostly it's stuff you've had before."

"My other job is to give you a kind of lecture. It's easier for new slaves if you know exactly what we expect from you." The "you" was oddly painful for Liz. It meant "You slaves."

"Lie back on the table."

She mouthed, "Yes Mistress" and did that. Alcohol on the right elbow.

"Your job here is to learn to be a valuable slave. Circle-Q is a subsidiary of Quarry's, the department store. We aren't producing the very best slaves in the world, maybe, but we give the best value in slave training. The State contracts us because we are competent, reliable, and not too expensive. And not political." She felt a slight pain as the needle entered her arm. "Good girl, didn't even flinch. One way we save money on training is speed. A place like the Big D has many weeks to train their product. We do it in half the time, and still turn out good slaves."

She sounds really proud of this place.

"OK, open your mouth." The vet leaned over her, meaning that Liz actually saw her face for the first time. Light-brown skin, big black eyes looking detached, black slightly wavy hair (Central American Native, maybe?), a tiny amount of facial hair around her upper lip. Liz revised her age estimate upward. She also closed her eyes immediately, to not stare a Mistress in the face, feeling a jolt of fear--which led to a jolt of desire! She felt her legs rubbing together.

The woman sounded really amused. "Open your eyes. I need to look into them. Rules are different when you're getting a medical check, 3349. I'm the least likely person in this building to punish you." Eyes opened just as the vet turned on the little flashlight thing and shone it into her left, then right eye. What followed was standard medical stuff, like blood pressure and pulse rate. Then it got weird.