Oh, to be clean

Nikki just wanted to be clean. She could still smell the piss in her
hair, she knew there was shit drying down her leg, the pungent odor of
her own sweat came from her armpits. It was awful. If the idea was
to make her feel less than human, it was working.

And hungry. She was so hungry.

She was hooked back up to the wire line above her head. Her arms
stretched up above her head. Her stomach lurched. She felt a rumble
moving around in her empty intestines.

She couldn't see what was in the next room, but the line was marching
forward, and she marched with it. Slowly. Inevitably.

They were spaced a little bit apart now, so as the girl in front of
Nikki disappeared into the next room, Nikki still couldn't see what
was in front of her.

Nikki got to the doorway. There was an older woman, maybe 55.
Matronly. Dressed in a drab grey uniform that looked a little like
scrubs, plain cotton. The kind of fabric that could be washed in 180
degree water, and given the kind of filth this woman was dealing with,
Nikki was sure she did wash them in scalding hot water.

"Okay girl." The matron had a stick, kind of like a billy club. She
lifted Nikki's chin with the end of the club. Looked her in the eye.
Nikki was embarrassed, that this woman should find her so repugnant
that she needed to be touched with a stick, handled like a piece of
waste. Of course, Nikki realized, she was nothing. The lowest of the
low. She felt her submission descend, once again. She assumed the
mantle of her slavery. And met the woman's gaze, her eyes open,
accepting, willing. She tried to communicate her obedience and her
subservience in her gaze. She was ready.

"Good." The woman had seen. She knew what to look for and she had
seen Nikki accept. But she wasn't done. "I want to hear your voice,
girl."

"Yes Ma'am." Nikki answered simply and clearly.

"What are you?" It was a simple question, and the matron delivered it simply.

"I am a dirty slave, Ma'am."

The woman nodded. Snorted. "That's an understatement! But yes, you
are." She moved the club between Nikki's knees and pushed her thighs
apart. "Open your legs girl."

Nikki did as she was told. And held her head up, looking at the woman.

The matron was focused on her task. She moved the club up.

Nikki held herself steady. Ready for whatever was going to come. She
was here to accept whatever was being given. She had no volition.
She felt the club moving up her thighs. And felt it make contact with
her wet pussy. She realized that as soon as she had felt her
submission, her moisture had started to flow.

The muscles in the woman's arm flexed as she pushed the stick up
against Nikki's wet cunt. She rubbed it, pushed it, lifted it.

Nikki was up on her toes. The pressure approaching pain. The stick
had ridges on it and they were rubbing against Nikki's clit. There
was no way the head of this stick was going to fit up inside her. It
had to be 3 inches in circumference. It was pushing into the entrance
of her vagina. Pushing against her. Ohhhh! Did this woman really
want to fuck her with this monstrous stick? Or was this just a test?
Nikki realized it didn't matter. That she wasn't part of the planning
here, all she could do was accept. So she relaxed and accepted.

Just at the moment that Nikki relaxed her muscles, ready to take
whatever was going to be given to her by this stick, the woman pulled
it back away from her and held it up in front of Nikki's face. It was
slick with juice, little globs of white discharge dotting the surface.

"Lick it clean." Again, simple. Clear.

Nikki loved how simple things were here. No trying to figure out what
was required. Just do it.

Nikki stuck her tongue out and lapped the wood, eagerly moving her
tongue over the surface, taking the fluid into her. She lapped and
lapped and lapped.

"Ok, ok. Stop." The woman pulled the stick way from Nikki.

Now Nikki could smell the piss in her hair, feel the dried shit on her
leg, and taste the pussy in her mouth.

"You want to be clean, girl?" Now here was a question with a simple answer.

"Oh, yes Ma'am. Yes."

"Well then, you're going to get your wish. But you may not like it as
much as you think." The woman chuckled and then swatted Nikki on the
butt, pushing her into the next room.

Nikki advanced with the wire over her head, holding her hands up and
forcing her to move forward.

It took a moment for Nikki to realize what was happening. And by then
it was too late to turn her head, push her lips tight together, or
otherwise protect herself.

There must have been 10 guys with high powered water pistols, shooting
hot water at her. The water pressure was just at the borderline; they
must have known exactly how hard they could pump it without causing
bruising, how hot they could make it without scalding. It was like
the pressure alone was scrubbing her.

Water was being blown into her face, her mouth, her ears, her armpits,
her vagina, her ass, everywhere. She didn't know where to turn, she
couldn't get away. She breathed in a mouthful of water, sputtered,
and stopped breathing.

Then several of them had soapy scrub brushes, like you would use in a
car wash, and they were scrubbing her legs, her arms, under her
breasts. She was still moving forward, and with each step the process
was changing slightly. Now there was one guy, in a wetsuit, holding
various parts of her open, pushing her cheeks apart, making sure they
got behind her ears, in the folds of her vagina, between her fingers,
between her toes. She felt turned inside out.

Now a softer wash of water was rinsing the soap off. Nikki felt
drained. She breathed deeply through her nose, now that water wasn't
coming at her. Tried to recover.

The cable turned a corner. And now Nikki could see what was next.

A big pool. And the cable was below the surface. Ohhh! She was
going to have to walk on the bottom of the pool. Her head was going
to be under the water. Her pace controlled by the cable. And not
able to surface, the cable holding her down.

Nikki pushed through her urge to balk. They weren't going to drown
her. She was a valuable asset. But she felt the fear in her veins
like ice. She stepped forward, getting closer to the water.

Ohhh! There was a trainer at the steps to the pool. With ankle
weights in his hands. They were going to make sure she stayed on the
bottom of the pool by weighing her down. Ohhh! Another wave of fear
passed through her. But she let him strap them to her ankles.
Compliant. Submissive.

She carefully stepped down the stairs. The water warm and
comfortable. Getting deeper and deeper with each step. Heavy as she
moved through it. It was at her thighs, at her hips, above her waist,
at her breasts, her collar bone, lapping her chin. She heard the
trainer say, "Take a deep breath" and then she was under. Totally
under. She moved forward, the water weighing down on her. The light
dappling through.

She was totally under water. Even her hands. It was hard to move
forward, the water heavy. The realization of her helplessness even
heavier.

Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Nikki put one foot in front of
the other. Did her best to keep moving forward. She wanted to
breathe. She could feel her lungs screaming out for air. And she had
no idea how much further it would be. Right foot. Left foot. Right
foot. The burning sensation in her lungs growing.

At the same time, she could feel the warm water cleaning her,
caressing her, refreshing her. She had wanted this. Wanted to feel
clean.

She knew better than to take a breath of water. The worst was to fill
your lungs with water. Hold it. Keep holding it. "You can do it,"
she told herself. "Keep walking. Stick with it."

Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. This was going on forever.

Finally, she felt hands on her elbows and she was being guided up and
out of the pool.

Nikki took a deep breath, the air rushing back into her lungs. She
bent over as best she could with her hands over her head, trying to
force air into her lungs, trying to expand her diaphragm as much as
possible. They let her gasp a few more breaths and then hustled her
on, water streaming from her hair and her skin.

The next room was filled with groomers. They dried her. Did her
hair. Applied light makeup. She felt like a product on an assembly
line. She was just a set of body parts to be treated, enhanced.

Finally, the group of slaves were assembled in front of a low
platform, a podium at the center. They were arranged in three rows,
standing comfortably with their hands at the nape of their necks.

One of the senior trainers took his place at the podium. Nikki
recognized him vaguely. She'd seen him before. Knew the other
trainers respected him. That he was some kind of "big cheese."

He cleared his throat and got started. No amplification, just his
deep rich voice filling the room. The slaves, silent and respectful,
looking up at him. "I am Jerard. Welcome to the next stage of your
training. Those of you who are here have done well. But don't think
you have nothing to worry about. We had to take 4 of you out of the
group this morning."

There was a collective gasp, as the slaves realized what that meant.
These were slaves who were deemed ready by their Trainers. And Jerard
had kicked them out after weeks and weeks of training and they would
not be auctioned at the upcoming auction, and maybe never.

"We had two who failed to show sufficient respect to the Matron."
Jerard raised his eyebrows. "I hope all who remain realize that your
submission is submission to all of us who are part of the system. Not
just your trainer or your Master, but everyone."

Nikki nodded and felt all the other slaves nodding along with her.

"We had one panic at the pool. A shame. I know you each have your
own fears. But you belong to us now. You give over your fears. You
don't have enough volition to act on your fears. I hope you will all
take that as a lesson."

Nikki felt the truth of his words. Felt that deep in herself.

Jerard was continuing. "But the biggest lesson for all of you here….
We had one slave who was courageous enough to admit that he was not
ready during his entrance interview." He paused. "Frankly, I was
impressed. If you are not ready, you are not ready. Better to admit
it now."

Nikki thought about that. A slave who had voluntarily taken himself
out of the running. Who had admitted failure.

"It is better to admit it yourself, than to wait until we discover
it." He took a breath. "And we will discover it."

He was right. There was no way to hide anything from this process.
There was no kernel of herself that was not going to be exposed,
studied, examined.

"I want each of you to sit down on the floor. Right now."

Nikki was thankful for her training as she lowered herself down
without moving her hands from the back of her neck – not an easy thing
to do.

"Now. Think. I want each of you to carefully consider what is going
to happen over the next few days."

Nikki waited for his next comments; she felt calm, centered, at ease.

"You will be tested. Examined. Evaluated. We will find all your
weaknesses. We will use you and test your endurance. We will push
you. We will also debase you, dehumanize you, reduce you to your most
basic of functions. You will be humiliated, stripped of all dignity.
You will be a slave."

Nikki let the words wash over her. The images vivid in her head.

"And at the end of it, you will be sold. Sold as chattel. All choice
and volition removed from you; you will be passed to the highest
bidder and you will be pledged to serve him or her for a period of no
less than 5 years."

Nikki felt a chill down her spine.

"This is serious business. There will be almost no limits on your
service. He or she may decide to use you or not use you. He or she
may take you far away from the people or culture you know. He or she
may abuse you, or simply ignore you. You can not be murdered or
deliberately injured. But you will have little recourse should you
find that the experience does not live up to your expectations."

He was right. This was serious. And scary. It could be anybody.
She could be bought by a kindly, wise, older Master, a collector who
would appreciate the skills and talents she brought to her service.
Or she could be bought by someone who didn't care at all about her.
It could be anybody. She could be bought by Mark! Or by someone she
had never met.

"I want you all to take a moment. Close your eyes. Reach deep down
into yourself. Do you really want this? Are you prepared to give
yourself over to the experience, positive or negative? Do you want to
be a slave?"

Nikki closed her eyes. Thought hard. Thought about her last few
weeks. Amazing. If somebody had asked her that question 6 weeks ago,
the answer would have been so different. Frankly, she had been
coerced into the program. She wouldn't have allowed herself to
explore this if she had been made to choose completely freely. It was
too scary. But now that she was so far in, so deep, she couldn't
imagine anything else.

She thought about the feeling of submission. The warmth of it. She
thought about how inexplicably wonderful she felt when she did
something, became something, she didn't want to be, just to please
somebody who was in charge of her. How wonderful it was to give
herself over, to give up the pain of her responsibility.

No matter how much she thought about it or tried to explain it to
herself, it was mystifying. Why this was so arousing. Why it worked
for her the way it did. But even without being able to understand it,
it was true. This was who she was. She was a slave. She was ready
for auction. She was ready for whatever was next.

"There is absolutely no shame in backing out now. You have had the
time to explore this. If you have gotten this far, it means you CAN
do it. But it doesn't mean you should do it. If you are not
absolutely sure that this is right for you, please, act now. Stand up
now, and we will help you get back to your life from before you joined
the program. We will give you seed money to set yourself back up, get
you a job, etc. And there will be absolutely no problems."

The silence was complete. Then one slave stood. She was a young girl
with long blonde hair. Nikki didn't recognize her.

"Thank you, dear." Jerard nodded to one of the trainers, who stepped
forward with a blanket and gently wrapped up the slave girl and led
her out of the room.

Silence descended once more.

"This is your last chance. After this, there is no going back. No
appeal. No balking."

Nobody moved a muscle. Nikki breathed in deeply. She had never felt
more sure of anything in her whole life.

"Okay then. Let's get on with it."