Annabelle sat in her car outside the clinic, afraid to go in. She kept reaching over to open the door latch, then pulling her hand away again. She'd been to see Dr. Malcolm many times before. She liked and trusted him. But she'd never come here with slave rash. She'd never come here with a fertility tag in her ear, a training chip in her cunt, and her prices for various sex services tattooed in big letters across her back. She'd never come here slave broken before.
That was the main thing. She was slave broken. At the club she'd gotten tattooed and enjoyed the pain. She'd agreed to help enslave her daughter, knowing it was the right thing to do. She'd offered her husband a zero-loss divorce so he could cheat on her more easily. Painful things felt good now. At least, they could feel good if she let them. That's what it meant to be slave broken. And everyone knew broken slaves stayed broken forever.
But then to her surprise, things had mostly gone back to normal. She'd slept in her bed next to her husband like always. Not on the floor or in a cage. Not listening to Robert fuck their daughter and his new slave woman in tandem. Not licking his cum out of another woman's cunt and then drinking his piss as her reward. Just listening to him softly snore, like any other night.
CherryPie and CheerBreeder had come home with them, but they slept in the guest room. It was like they were just visiting. In the morning Annabelle had woken up, gotten dressed, and nobody had come to rape her. She'd just done her morning routine, like a free woman might. She was a free woman, technically. She could almost pretend the evening at Pure Surrender had never happened. Desperately that's what she wanted to do.
And that was the problem. She was broken, but still wanted to be free. She found pleasure in pain and humiliation now, but also in her life as a wife, and a mother, and a woman. She didn't want to be enslaved again. In fact the thought of it terrified her, even though deep down she knew she'd enjoy it.
And so she'd made a doctor's appointment, to get her slave rash treated. That was her choice as a free woman, and she'd made it. And here she was in the parking lot of the clinic, panicking. Was she making a mistake, walking around in public as a free woman? The scariest part of getting enslaved again was that she knew she would let it happen. If a stranger tried to enslave her now she would submit, maybe without a fuss, and possibly never see her family again. Even if someone just gave her an order in a sharp enough voice, she'd probably obey. She couldn't help it.
Should she call Damian, and ask him to legally enslave her again? He'd want to rape her too, but maybe that was worth it? If she were Damian's slave, then at least nobody else could claim her. As it was she was practically up for grabs. But then, he might not allow her to get treated for slave rash.
A master and slave walked out of the clinic. The slave was a puppy girl: standing upright but leashed, naked, and covered in a beautiful brown fur coat. That must have been expensive. Real dog fur had to be implanted one follicle at a time. Her fuzzy face had been reshaped into a snout and muzzle as well. It was extremely cute, but she probably couldn't talk anymore with a mouth and tongue shaped like that. Her master led her to the grass, where she squatted to pee. She was visibly pregnant. She looked happy.
Annabelle had an intrusive thought of just walking up to the man, stripping for him, and begging him to be her master. She didn't know a thing about him, except his slave looked pampered. Was that still better than taking a chance with other strangers?
No. Annabelle pushed the ridiculous idea away. She could do this. She'd successfully acted like a free woman her whole life. She was perfectly capable of doing it for one more appointment. She was modestly dressed. Nobody knew she was chipped or slave broken. Nobody but the doctor had to see the tattoos or know about the slave rash. And she trusted him. Everything would be okay.
She got out of the car and successfully walked past the master without begging to become his property. He barely seemed to notice her. She could do this. She went into the clinic.
The Creature Comfort Clinic was divided into the doctor's offices and facilities for people on the north side, and the veterinary services for animals and slaves on the south side. The waiting area in the center was open to both people and their pets. A few naked and leashed slaves paced restlessly, or curled up on the floor at their masters' feet. Others waited for their owners, locked inside the kennels at the far wall. One man held a cat on his lap. Not a catgirl, but an actual cat animal. Strange.
Annabelle went to the front desk. "Hello. I'm here for my one o'clock with Dr. Malcolm."
"Very good," Maria the receptionist replied with a smile, "It's good to see you again Mrs. Winthrop. Has your insurance changed at all since last time?"
"Nope."
"Okay. You should be set. Oh. Hmm." Maria looked concerned at the computer screen.
"Is there a problem?"
"It says here you're a slave now, Mrs. Winthrop? Chipped too. And your name is PussyCunt?"
Annabelle's blood ran cold. This was her nightmare. "No. I'm a legally free woman."
"Are you sure? There's even video of you being enslaved at the Pure Surrender Club. Oh wow. You really hosed that crowd down, didn't you? That's some impressive squirting distance."
"Um. Thank you?" Annabelle was so mortified. "Yes. I did get enslaved. But my master freed me afterwards, so now I'm a free woman again."
"Hmm. I don't see any records of that. But the computer can be slow about emancipations sometimes. We don't get too many of them. It's not a big problem, PussyCunt. We can still see you today, since Dr. Malcolm does both people and pets. But if your owner isn't here you'll have to wait in the kennel."
Annabelle looked at the kennels. The cells were stacked like a honeycomb and locked with padlocks. The insides were padded, but she'd have to curl up to fit. And of course, all the pets inside were naked. She couldn't go in there. "Maybe I should just reschedule until we get this computer issue cleared up. I'll come back another time."
Maria gave Annabelle a look. Was that pity? "Oh there's no need for that. We'll get this cleared up right now. Bend over the table here."
"I'd really rather come back some other..."
"Bend over," Maria barked.
Annabelle bent over the desk. She was doing it before she even realized. How did Maria make her voice sound so much like Damian's?
With practiced speed, Maria fastened a collar around Annabelle's neck, with a chain leash. The snap as it clicked closed seemed unnaturally loud. Maria held the leash tight, and pressed a button on her computer. "Hey Ashton, can you come to the front? We've got a potential runaway. Thanks."
Annabelle was struggling not to panic. Fighting and running wouldn't help anything now. It would only make her look more like a slave. But what could she do? Damn, Maria was stronger than she looked. "Please Maria. Don't do this. I thought we were friends."
"Oh we are hun, closer than you know." Maria pulled down the neck of her own shirt, revealing a chain slave collar underneath. "I had a hard time with the first few days too. You'll be okay. Hey Ashton. Here's the runaway. Get her stripped and weighed, and safe in a kennel will you? I'm going to see if we can get access to her chip."
The chip? Oh no. Annabelle didn't realize they might have a way to activate her training chip. She knew what little control of herself she had would evaporate the moment they turned that on.
Ashton was a short man, bald, and extremely built. He wore a pleasant smile as he took the chain leash from Maria. "Hey there miss. Look, I don't know if you're a slave or not, but we're going to take great care of you either way. We gotta do a few formalities, though, just in case. Would you mind taking off your clothes please. We'll keep 'em safe for you right here at the front desk."
They wanted Annabelle to strip? Right now? They were still in the waiting room. There were so many people watching. They would all see her whore tattoos. But what was her alternative? Going into a private room with Ashton? Who knows what he would do to her. Waiting until Maria got access to her training chip? Annabelle might as well sign new enslavement papers now.
"Wait wait," she said to Maria, "You don't need to get access to my chip. I'll do whatever you say. Look." She began peeling off her clothes, "See? No need."
Everyone openly stared. Perhaps it wasn't often they got to see a free woman getting enslaved in public. Trembling, Annabelle stripped from the bottom up: shoes, socks, pants, panties. A few people murmured their approval as her ass came into view. She removed her jacket, unbuttoned her shirt, unclasped her bra, and took a deep breath. There was no other choice. She pulled the rest off with one motion.
The tattoos were out for all to see, still healing but very legible. $10 blow job. $20 rim job. $30 urinal. $100 in the ass. One of the waiting patients wooped his approval.
"Aha," chuckled Maria, "I knew it. Don't be sad PussyCunt. Slavery isn't so bad. Maybe we can service Dr. Malcolm together after your appointment. He's very good at slave handling, if you know what I mean."
Annabelle did not want to know what she meant.
Ashton led her to the animal scale and ordered her to "sit". Now everyone in the room got to see how much she weighed too? Somehow she felt even more naked. Would they all be watching her enslavement videos on their phones next? At least they all thought she had a master. If they found out now that she was legally free...well she didn't want to think about that.
Ashton used a dry erase marker to write 'PussyCunt' above one of the kennel cells. Annabelle climbed in without complaint. To his credit, Ashton was pretty professional about it. He didn't try to touch her, even when her ass and cunt were right about at his eye level, as she climbed into the cramped space. The lock clicked shut.
The cell was small but soft and cozy. It felt exposed, but safe. It felt right. With nothing better to do, Annabelle settled down for a little nap. The universe quietly vanished away.
"Mrs. Winthrop?"
Annabelle didn't want to wake up. Being awake was stressful.
"Mrs. Winthrop? Time to wake up."
Was that Dr. Malcolm's voice? Oh shit. She remembered everything, and jolted awake. Dr. Malcolm was outside her cell, and he was calling her by her non-slave name.
"It's time for your appointment," the older doctor said, unlocking the cell, "Follow me."
Annabelle climbed out and followed without a word, past everyone in the waiting room, bare feet on tile. Dr. Malcolm led her to the 'people' side of the clinic, and into a small examination room. He gestured for her to have a seat.
