“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Clarissa tried to focus her eyes. A woman dressed as a “sexy cop” from a strip joint was shaking her. Clarissa wondered she might be a hallucination but she seemed to be real. Clarissa was definitely not all right. The five guys in the van had asked her if she wanted to party. She expected them to have drugs so she got in the van. If they had drugs they were not sharing with her. They drove into the middle of nowhere, beat her up, raped her and dropped her by the side of the road like a sack of garbage. She wandered into the nearest town, lay down on a park bench and began to convulse. After her mother died her father became an abusive drunk. In her teens she ran away. As a runaway, there were at all times people who would offer her drugs for sex. She had taken practically every street drug available and was now addicted to several. Most drug whores are underweight but she had been heavy ever since she was a child. She at all times had an appetite and at all times managed to eat even if she had to steal or eat garbage, so she was a fat drug whore. She hadn’t gotten any drugs for a while and her mind and body were craving several substances at once. She felt like she would take anything including deadly poison to stop feeling what she was feeling now.

The cop, if that’s what she was, wore a cap, shades, a black dog collar, a tube top, a belt and boots. From her position on the bench Clarissa could look right at her completely exposed pussy. The cop lifted her walkie-talkie to her face.

“Send a bus in front of the downtown play park. It’s an outsider woman and she’s in a bad way.”

If this woman was a cop, she didn’t sound like the many other cops she’d encountered. Most of them behaved as if she was a drug whore due to her own choices and neither deserved nor would advantage from anyone’s help. This woman sounded as if she really wanted to help.

The ambulance got there surprisingly quickly. A male and female EMT opened the back to get out the gurney. The man wore an normal EMT’s uniform. The woman wore a top with cutaways that exposed her largish naked breasts. Both nipples had weighted clamps that stretched them in a way that Clarissa wondered looked quite painful. Around her waist she wore a white tutu that didn’t at all hide the fact that the only thing she was wearing between her waist and her anklet socks and sneakers was a butt plug.

“Oh, Gloria, I’m so glad it’s you,” the cop said.

“Roberta, you dumb slut, you know Brad drives right over when he hears your voice on the radio. Holy Hecate, what’s this? How can the outsiders let someone get like this and how’d she get to Briarton?”

“Please, can you help her?” Roberta said plaintively. “I can’t stand to see someone suffer like this.”

“You always have such a soft snatch. I’ve only heard about these but I think this is some sort of drug withdrawal. Since I don’t know what she’s addicted to, I can only give her something to lessen the convulsions and hope I haven’t made things worse. At the hospital, they can find out exactly what’s wrong with her.”

Gloria gave Clarissa an injection and she and Brad gently lifted Clarissa onto the gurney and strapped her down.

“I think she needs to see a friendly face. Please, Gloria, ride in the back with her and tell her that everything will be okay. I think she’d be a good candidate for the Zaftig Agency. I’ll call them and have them send someone to the hospital to meet you.”

“You always have better judgment about placement than I do. Don’t worry, Roberta, I’ll take good care of her.”

Brad and Gloria loaded Clarissa into the ambulance and Gloria climbed in after her.

Brad started the ambulance.

“Don’t worry everything is going to be okay,” Gloria said soothingly. She smiled, “What’s your name, honey?”

“Clarissa.” She could smell that she had wet and soiled herself and felt disgusted but the strangely dressed EMT only held her hand and gazed at her as if they were best friends.

“Please, I’m dead broke and can’t pay the hospital bill.”

“Don’t worry, Roberta called the Zaftig Agency. They’ll take care of everything.”

“What is the Zaftig Agency and what do they want in return?”

“If you decide to stay here in Briarton and work for them, which I highly recommend, you will pay them back several times over. If you decide to leave and go back to your own life, that’s your own choice. The Agencies’ charters demand they help those in need and will simply absorb the cost. I agree with Roberta; Zaftig is the best fit for you.”

“Work for them! What kind of work?”

“Shhhhh, sweetie, there’s no need to worry about that. Let’s just get you healthy.”

Gloria continued to hold Clarissa’s hand and stroke her forehead while Clarissa spent the rest of the ride wondering what she had gotten herself into.

When they got to the hospital a female nurse and male orderly stripped off her clothes and cleaned her up. A doctor took blood samples and put in an IV. The next few days were a blur as she underwent medical detox. She was never sure what was real and what was not as she went in and out of consciousness, had convulsions and hallucinations, and an intense craving to get high.

“Clarissa, honey, are you awake? Can you talk?” an older woman with large breasts and wide hips wearing a lace blouse and a skirt sat by her bed.

Clarissa looked around the room. It appeared to be some sort of hospital ward except there were no curtains between the beds. She could see everyone on the ward, men and women most of whom were naked or half dressed. The older man in the bed next to her was furiously stroking his erect cock while a woman stood over him and ordered him to pump harder.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Briarton Hospital Collared ICU,” the woman beside her bed said.

“Why aren’t there any curtains? I can see everyone and everyone can see me.”

“This is a collared ward; the collared have nothing to hide.”

Clarissa looked down at her body. She was wearing a clean short hospital gown, white with tiny blue fleur de lis. She had neither bra nor panties. There was something tight around her neck. She put her hand to her neck and felt a metal disc. She looked at the woman. She reminded her of some teachers that she had at college: they acted like uptight bitches but could be gotten around by talking sugary to them.

“That’s your collar, Clarissa. It tells everyone you belong to us. I’m Mistress Petra, the director of the Zaftig Agency.”

“What do you mean “belong?” I’ve never seen you before.”

“You’ve been undergoing detox for the last ten days. You may not remember me but I’ve been following your case since you got to the hospital. The Zaftig Agency is an agency for big women. We would really like it if you stayed on as one of our slaves.”

“Slave! I don’t want to be a slave!”

“I suppose you could leave Briarton. Do you have someplace to go? What kind of life would you lead?”

Clarissa realized she had no place to go and her life as a drug whore had become miserable. The bed she was in was soft, her mind was clearer than it had been in years, and there was something comforting about Mistress Petra’s stern, orderly presence.

” If you show you can support yourself you can live here as an uncollared woman. Do you have any marketable skills?”

Clarissa remained silent. Since she lived as a runaway she didn’t even have a GED. The only way she made money was as a whore or a mule.

“People from outside Briarton have prejudices against slavery. Here in Briarton it’s completely normal. Three quarters of the adult women and one third of the adult men are slaves, over half the adult population. You remember Roberta the cop and Gloria the EMT.”

“Of course they saved me.”

“Did they look like happy women to you?”

Clarissa didn’t quite know how to answer. It is hard to assess a person from a brief meeting. “Yes, I guess they did seem happy.”

“Well they are both full time slaves. By the way, they are both concerned about you. They came to visit you anytime their work and masters’ allowed.”

“Masters?

“Most slaves are owned by private individuals. The agencies were created to provide a place for unowned slaves. Well, for now, you are our responsibility. Briarton takes care of its residents. Everyone has their place. No one is neglected. We don’t have to decide now. Dr. Collins recommends you stay on our behavior modification ward for a while.”

Clarissa sensed something familiar. Behavior modification could only be another name for rehab. She had been to rehab, usually court ordered. For her it was a revolving door. If you want them bad enough you can always get drugs in rehab. She’d relapse and get kicked out before she ruined the progress of the others. She figured she’d get kicked out of behavior modification before she would ever find out what slavery was like.

An hour later an orderly came by. “It’s time to go to your new ward.” He clipped a four foot cord to a ring at the front of her collar and pulled out of her bed. He walked ahead of her leading her along with the cord. She felt strange walking barefoot wearing only her flimsy gown and collar being led like an animal. Were people looking at her? What were they thinking? She observed people as she passed them. People were looking at her but were reacting as this was the most normal thing in the world. She was actually covered with more clothes than many of the people she passed.

The orderly unlocked a heavy door. The door opened into a small empty alcove that had another heavy door in the far wall. The orderly locked the door they came through before opening the other door. He pushed Clarissa into the ward. The door locked behind her with a click. She realized if she wanted to escape this place it wouldn’t be through the door. The ward was a large completely open room with no curtains or partitions. On the left wall was a row of twelve beds. The right side had four showerheads with tiles and drains. In the far corner there was a single toilet. There was nowhere in the room that you could do anything without being seen by everyone else in the room. Eleven women in various states of undress had gathered around her.

“Clarissa’s here!” said a tattoo-covered woman with dyed red hair. She was wearing nothing but glasses, a blue collar, and ballet slippers. “Remember, you sluts, she is from the outside and not used to our methods. Also, she has special problems. It is our duty to help her and make her feel at home. Clarissa, my name is Janine.”

“What sort of drug rehab is this?”

The women began to say things like, “Drugs, we don’t take drugs. We smoke weed or drink wine if our masters want us to, The only thing we’re addicted to is cock.”

Janine said “Because they only ingest what their owners tell them to Briarton slaves almost never develop substance abuse problems. In fact if an owner made his slave take the things you had in your system, the Slave Welfare Board would convict him of slave abuse and he’d lose all his slaves.”

“How do you know what I took? Aren’t my medical records private?”

“Slaves have no need for or should expect privacy.”

“You’re all slaves?”

“Actually, I’m not a true slave,” Janine said. “I’m what is called a switch. Sometimes when the responsibility of my medical practice gets too stressful and I need a vacation, I lend my slaves out to a friend and commit myself in here for a while. The rest of the ward are slaves who were sent here by their masters. Except, of course, Julie. She has a mistress. You’re the only agency slave on the ward.”

The questions poured out. “You’re a doctor? You own slaves? Is this some sort of insane asylum?”

“Yes, I’m a fully licensed physician. I own two slaves, a man and woman. Between the two of them they fulfill my service needs. The behavior modification ward is not an insane asylum. Some of the slaves are here because their owners are dissatisfied with their performance and have sent them here to change their behavior. Others are here because they and/or their owners enjoy medical fetishes. You are here to learn how to get clean and adjust to your new life.”

“I don’t want to be a slave. I want to stay free.”

Janine smiled. “We really hope you change your mind. The Zaftig Agency thinks you will be an excellent addition. If you stay here as a Briarton slave, you will be controlled by someone who values you and will take care of you. When you were “free” you were controlled by chemicals and taken benefit of by people who didn’t care if you lived or died. You will not be able to leave here until Dr. Collins releases you, so you might as well make the best of it. Brianna, she’s next to you. Show her where her bed is.”

Brianna was a plus sized woman like Clarissa. She was wearing only her collar and two large painful looking nipple clamps. She took Clarissa by the arm and guided her to one of the simple metal cots near the middle of the row. It was twin sized but wide enough to accommodate more than one person if they wanted to be close.

“This is your bed. I think you’ll discover we spend a lot of time in our beds.”

Brianna stroked Clarissa’s arm, “It’s really true, Clarissa. I and all the other women on the ward are glad you’re here. If there is anything you want, just ask and we’ll do what we can for you.”

Clarissa took a nap until an orderly brought her a tray. It was hospital food but rather good and a lot of it. The orderly stood over her as she began to eat.

“There’s no need to stand there. You can pick up the tray when I’m finished.”

“My orders are to make sure you eat everything. The Zaftig Agency wants to keep your weight up.”

Clarissa thought this was a new peculiarity to her situation but she was hungry and finished every bite.

That evening she watched the goings on in the ward.

Two groups of women were taking turns reading aloud from different historical bondage porn paperbacks. Clarissa tried to follow both stories and tried to decide which were having the more exciting time, the Roman slaves or the medieval nuns.

There was a sturdy card table set up with four chairs. On the table was a deck of cards and a large paddle. Four of the inmates sat at the table playing Swat Poker, five card stud where instead of money the players bet with how many swats with the paddle the player with the lowest hand would receive from the player with the highest. Once seated at the table a player could not fold; she could only see or raise. After a player received her paddling she dropped out and another player took her seat. Clarissa thought only a few of the women on the ward would want to play such an unusual game but as the game progressed every inmate except her had been paddled at least once.

Brianna said, “Clarissa, come on over and join in the fun.”

Clarissa didn’t want to appear stand-offish so she sat in the empty seat. The next few hands she did not raise and got middling hands. Then she would sit and watch while the “loser” would lean her torso on the table and count while the “winner” swung out and paddled her exposed ass the prescribed number of blows.

The next hand Clarissa still did not raise but the other three women were betting wild. There were limits on initial bets and raises but they were raising every time, including Tina who had a truly hopeless hand. Clarissa received the eight of clubs as her last card, she already had the eight of hearts showing. When it came time for the showdown she turned over her eight of diamonds hole card. Three eights was the winning hand; she was going to have to give Tina forty-two swats. Tina was a petite woman who wore three heavy rings: nipples and clit. When she immediately stood up and pressed her body to the table, Clarissa could see she had “skanky cumdump” tattooed on her lower back.

Janine, who was also sitting at the table, said “Tina’s a total painslut. The harder you hit her the more she’ll like it.”

Tina giggled.

Clarissa gave Tina’s ass a smack with the paddle.

“One, harder, please, Clarissa.”

This continued for all forty-two smacks. Clarissa would hit her. She would count and ask for it to be harder. Clarissa increased the force of her blows each time until she was sure she couldn’t beat her any harder. Tina’s ass got redder and redder. At first Clarissa was tentative, not having spanked anyone before, but soon she developed a confident rhythm and was even enjoying beating the other woman’s ass.

“Forty-two,” Tina said with a regretful tone. Before she went to sit on her bed and listen to the readers she kissed Clarissa on the cheek. “Thank you, Clarissa, that was great.”

A few hands later Clarissa failed to complete a low straight and had the lowest hand. Janine grinned; her pair of kings was the winner. She was going to give Clarissa’s ass thirty blows. Janine got up and moved behind Clarissa’s chair. Clarissa stood up slowly and Janine pushed her facedown onto the table.

“Pull that gown up higher!” Janine said sternly. “We all want to get a good look at your big tender ass.”

Before she could think, Clarissa found herself pulling the back of her gown up to her waist and anticipating the first blow. THWACK!

“Count, bitch!”

“One” THWACK!

“Two”

And so it proceeded for twenty-eight more spanks. The other women were laughing and counting along. Everyone on the ward was enjoying her pain and humiliation. Some of them stood behind Janine to get a better view, giving her advice and comments.

Clarissa’s ass felt like it was on fire but she had other pleasant feelings. She felt a strong sense of belonging with these women. The ass paddling she was getting was not much different from the paddlings the other women who played the game received. This was their way of showing they accepted her as one of them.

THWACK! “Thirty”

“All done, you can stand up now, Clarissa. That was Clarissa’s first paddling as slave. Didn’t she do great? Let’s give her a round of applause to congratulate her and wish her many more.”

Clarissa felt a mix of pride and embarrassment as she gingerly walked her sore ass to her bed. That was much better than she thought it would be. Once the pain subsided she might even consider getting back in rotation for another round.

Early the next morning a male orderly woke her up. He had wheeled a hook with a full enema bag beside her bed.

“Time for your morning enema, slut. Doctor’s orders. Lie on your left side and show me your asshole.”

Clarissa hadn’t had an enema since she was a child and thought they were gross but she found at the ward it was best to go along to get along. She turned on her left side and the orderly pulled down her sheets and pulled up her gown. He pushed the nozzle deep into her anus. Clarissa felt the strange sensation as the warm water began to flow into her.

While she lay there she tried to piece together her confused feelings about the ward. On one hand she felt trapped and helpless, at the mercy of these strange people. On the other hand she felt the women on the ward had already fully accepted her, accepted her in this short time more profoundly than nearly anyone she had ever met. It seemed they would never reject her no matter what she said or did.

“Are you full? Are you ready to expel?” the orderly asked.

“Yes.”

“A proper slave politely asks permission to expel.”

“Please, sir, may I expel my enema.?”

“Let’s wait thirty more seconds. When I pull the nozzle out you may go to the toilet.”

Clarissa was beginning to cramp up so the thirty seconds seemed like a long time. When she felt the nozzle slide from her asshole, she leapt up and headed to the toilet as quickly as she could while keeping her ass clenched so she didn’t leak.

Two other women, Dotty and Gwen, had received enemas at the same time. They were both gonna get to the single toilet ahead of her. Clarissa didn’t know if she could wait that long.