Inspired by characters and settings created by Kate Smith. All characters are 18 or older.
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I know that these days, when we all live under the Female Slavery Act, it seems like the list of occupations that are off-limits to women is growing every day. Most people probably think that at the top of that list would be "owner of a slave shop," but if you think that you couldn't be more wrong. I got into the business on the "ground floor," as the popular saying goes.
Of course, everybody knows how it all started. Zonga, that backwards country in Africa that nobody had ever heard of, decided to legalise female slavery. Since Zonga was barely connected to the world economy, and since the women of Zonga had practically been treated like slaves anyway, nobody outside of that country paid much attention. It was just a minor item on the news: War in the Middle East, a bribery scandal in the House of Commons, and Zonga legalises slavery. What else was new?
People began to take notice when a French women's football team traveled to Zonga to compete in one of the FIFA qualifiers. After France defeated Zonga 2-1, As soon as Britain opened up the trade with Zonga, I saw the opportunity and I took it. In retrospect, it may have been the best decision I ever made. After all, how else can a girl make her way in this world?
If anything, I probably have an advantage. You see, selling in this business isn't really the issue -- there is always a market for pussy. What makes or breaks you is acquisition, and at the time I started out there weren't many ways to acquire slaves in Britain. It's not as if you can simply grab them off the streets. This isn't Zonga.
I have the advantage because I understand girls. Like any woman, I have a bit of a submissive streak myself. I have spent many hours on many nights in the privacy of my bed with my hands between my thighs imagining myself as somebody's nude, collared sex toy. Of course, I know that the reality of slavery was far removed from the erotic fantasy, but I also know that for every woman there are occasional moments when her loins overpower her judgment. I knew how to make those moments happen, and I knew how to take advantage of them. And that knowledge is half the battle.
The other half of the battle is the one thing that makes being a woman a big disadvantage in this business: Titalin. It's dangerous stuff. Whenever I handle it, I have to take special precautions to avoid touching it, and especially to avoid ingesting it, even accidentally. It does not seem to have any effect at all on men, but for women it is nothing short of a miracle drug. No, it does not instantly make a woman into a slave -- that's a myth. The way it really works is far more subtle.
You know that annoyed feeling you get when someone gives you an order? Particularly, if the tone of the order is given in a harsh tone, or if what you are being ordered to do is something you find humiliating? That emotion is a biological response, and what Titalin does is associates that response in the female mind with her libido. So, under the influence of Titalin, being given an order turns a girl on, as does obeying it. The more orders a woman gets while she is under the influence, the more her psyche is permanently altered. On top of all that, Titalin has the effect of temporarily stimulating a woman's sex drive, at least mildly, even when she is not being given a command.
Understandably, I consider Titalin one of the most powerful tools I have for acquisition, and I have found many creative ways to use it. For example, whenever I refill the liquid soap dispenser in the ladies room at the shop, I always mix trace amounts of Titalin in with the soap. All that does is get Titalin on a the women's hands, which will not have any effect by itself. However, I also have a bowl of mints outside of the ladies room, so all a girl has to do is pick one up with hands that she had just washed with Titalin-infused soap and eat it, and now it is in her system. Not enough to make her a total slave right away mind you, but enough to make her highly suggestible. That is just one of my tricks -- I have many more.
A lot of the girls I deal with, frankly, don't have very good survival skills and make themselves easy targets for women like me. Take this one group: The Titalin Club. Once a week, a group of women get together for a pot-luck lunch at my shop, and I provide the wine. Only I spike one of the glasses of wine with Tittalin, and the other women all try to figure out who drank the spiked drink. Whoever finds the drugged woman gets to play with her for a while before I sell her, and we split the profits.
A few weeks ago, the usual group showed up for Titalin Club and I led them to the room I had set up in the back for events like these. It was the same girls as the previous week except there was one new girl -- a freckled redhead with nice big boobs called Alicia. There was always a new girl every week to replace the one who had been sold the previous week. They brought their dishes, and sat down and started gossiping. Alicia, was the new addition to the group, so her stories naturally attracted the most attention. Meanwhile, I poured the wine, and hidden from view, I spiked one glass with a generous amount of Titalin.
I passed a glass of wine to each of the guests, and once I was done Nancy Evans -- a tall woman with jet-black hair who was the self-appointed leader of the group -- tapped on her glass. "Okay ladies, now is the time for the main event. You know how this works -- bottom's up!" Nancy raised her glass and drank. The other women followed suit.
Once all of the women had drained their glasses, they started looking around, trying to figure out who was now under the influence of Titalin. I ran this contest honestly, so I did not know who drank the spiked wine either, though my trained eye could usually spot a girl under the influence faster than any of the others. Eventually, after several minutes of silence, while the women observed one another for signs of impairment, Nancy decided to give it a go.
