This is my attempt at a Tracy-style story, but set in the HCI universe from my other stories on Literotica. Themes include bondage, slavery, bureaucracy, public humiliation, plot exposition, corporal punishment, lesbianism, extortion, interstate commerce, and not-completely-consensual sex. And of course, everyone is over eighteen.
This is part two of three, and is a bit shorter than the others; think of it as a bridge between the two.
We were having really lively conversations now that I was in the cage — even Brooke and Kenzie joined in — and I was a little disappointed when the truck began slowing for what Nicolaides called "turndown."
"More like
kneeldown
," Mary said, snickering at her own joke.
"What do you mean?" I asked her.
"You'll see," Linda interjected. "If I were you, I'd be out of that cage when we stop."
The rear door opened: it was dark and we were in a truck stop, on the far end of the lighted parking lot, where the overnight trucks parked.
"Last stop of the night, ladies," Nicolaides said, and he and Chuy marched the women to the public "rest area" while I trailed along. Like the earlier stop, this area had a concrete trough and water faucets for the women to use; like the first stop, a small group of truck drivers started to gather near the fence, but unlike the first stop this group had a couple of female drivers as well.
I thought this group was more subdued: no shouting, catcalls, joking and back-slapping. They all appeared to stare intently at the women, occasionally speaking quietly to one another.
I like to think I'm pretty astute, so I don't know why it took me so long to figure out what was happening. Returning the coffle from the trough, Chuy led them to the gate, then released each woman from the coffle one at a time so she could pass through the gate on her own. When she did, Nicolaides waiting on the other side would stop her, turn her to face the crowd of truckers, and wait for someone to stepped forward.
Indeed, a trucker stepped forward for each woman, spoke to Nicolaides briefly, Nicolaides handed him (or her) the section of chain locked to the woman's collar, and the trucker would lead the woman off to the lot full of idling trucks, a few so excited they were already groping their prize.
All of the women left in this fashion except Linda and Ruzanna, who remained behind; interestingly, curvy little Tracy was led off by the two female truckers who I had no idea were together. Like the men, they were large and strong-looking, wearing blue jeans and boots, and they towered over the smaller woman. Tracy looked nervously back at us as each of the female truckers slapped her behind before leading her away, leaving pink handprints on her flesh, and I wondered what kind of night Tracy would have.
I turned in time to see Ruzanna and Chuy headed for the sleeper cab of our truck (
ain't no sleeping going on in there
, I thought, for some reason) leaving me, Nicolaides and Linda standing near the gate.
"Is, is that
legal
?" I asked Nicolaides, who laughed.
"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be? They're just slaves, currently owned by HCI and under the direction of their agent, me. If I want them to service some hard-working drivers, I can do that, it's what they're there for, just so long as they reach their destination undamaged and on time."
I caught Linda's smirk before she suppressed it.
"The main store is up that way," Nicolaides gestured, "it's got a restaurant if you want anything. We'll roll in an hour. Now if you'll excuse me," he said, taking Linda's chain leash and leading her toward a darkened, covered pavilion with a couple of picnic tables.
————————
An hour later I returned from the truck stop that Nicolaides had so hamfistedly suggested I go visit. I took a seat at a table and called Marla (the range on my earpiece was limited so I used my phone) to check in and upload the video I had so far; from what she saw, she was very happy with the way things were going. And if she's happy, I'm happy.
Nicolaides must have seen me coming down the road, because he met me at the trailer door and let me in; all of the women were back in their cages. He had a plastic crate full of blankets ("Microfilament, almost impossible to cut, much less tear, and nonflammable" he explained) and proceeded to hand one out to each woman.
When he was finished, he walked back to the rear door and held it open for me: "I'm going to spell Chuy so he can get some rest. He sleeps in the front — old injury, he sleeps better sitting upright — so you can have the sleeper all to yourself."
"No, thanks," I said, "I'd rather sleep in here tonight."
Nicolaides gave me my second double take of the day. He consulted his data pad briefly, scratching his head, but then he shrugged and handed me a blanket. "Let me show you how to open-"
"I've got a key," I said, showing him the metal collar in my jacket pocket.
He raised an eyebrow and nodded, then hopped down and closed the door.
The blanket was shaped sort of like a butterfly, with an integrated foam pillow. Janet demonstrated how to wrap it around yourself for sleeping, and she looked a bit like a swaddled baby.
The truck rumbled to life and started moving; the lights switched from white to a dull red color.
I sat down inside "my" cage and asked: "So, who wants to tell me what happened?"
Some of the women chuckled or even giggled. "We had sex," Linda said. "It's what slaves do."
"It's pretty obvious to me that ol' Nicky put our photos up on a private ZipChat page that the truckers know about," Janet said, "they bid on us, and the winners paid him through VENDmore or CashPal or something. When we arrived, each trucker just had to give him a receipt number and presto! They get their dicks sucked."
"Is that what happened to each of you?" I asked.
"Oh yes," Janet replied. "Mine was so eager he couldn't wait to actually get inside of his truck, so he took me from behind while I stood and leaned against the cab. When he stopped, I heard clapping and cheering from some of the nearby rigs." She rolled her eyes.
"Mine wanted top
and
bottom," Mary said, "But I sucked him so good he busted in my mouth and couldn't get it back up before his time ran out!" Everyone laughed at that one.
"I have to admit," Rhonda said, "Mine was old and fat, but he could fuck like a jackhammer. Who'd have guessed? Wore me right out. I'm going to
sleep
tonight."
"You're all taking this really well," I said. "Aren't any of you upset at being rented out like prostitutes?"
"Spoken like someone who hasn't been in our shoes," Linda said. "First, you get over the sex-whenever-someone-wants-it thing really fast after you're collared. It's a coping mechanism, plus you keep getting reminded that you don't have a choice anyway."
"Second," she continued, "When you go through obedience school or slave training or whatever, you are
immersed
in sex, getting fucked several times a day the whole time you're there, and you either let it break you or you learn to love it. They are
very
good at making you learn to love it."
"And third," she looked around at her fellow slaves, "it's kind of liberating to be honest. I don't have to worry about getting a reputation as a whore or a slut, because I'm a slave! I can have sex all day long and it doesn't matter, because it's not my decision. I'm just doing what I'm told."
"Besides," Ruzanna said, "It's mostly a lot of fun."
"Easy for you to say," Linda laughed, "Chuy is a
very
cute boy!"
"Yeah, his pecs and shoulders are amazing, and he was all kinds of pent up from working and driving, his thing was kinda numb so we went at it for a
long
time," Ruzanna sighed, grinning. "I'm sorry you got old Nick."
"Eh, at my age one cock is pretty much like another," Linda replied. "Still, I could do without all the thick black body hair," and she stuck her tongue out.
More laughter, then Linda shouted down to Tracy: "Hey Trace, how'd the dykes work out?"
"I'm actually kinda sad it ended so soon. Not only did they reciprocate with the muff diving," Tracy said with a sheepish grin, "but they took turns on me with strap ons. I came
at least