Livestock

Your name is...for the moment...Yasaka Michiko. You have been a reasonably successful businesswoman with a reputation for cool logic and efficiency. That has all been a front, of course. Your true passions lie elsewhere.

For years you have, as your financial situation improved, been indulging your lusts. Bondage. Submission. Humiliation. These have been what you lived for. And for years you managed to keep those parts of you separate. Yasaka-san worked hard so that Michiko-chan could play even harder.

Until the incident. Until one of your clients discovered you naked and bound in that sex dungeon. For awhile his **** of you into a sexual relationship added spice to your extracurricular activities. But he did not really indulge your kinks, he simply used you for sex. And when he turned from sexual **** to professional, you knew something had to be done. One of you had to go, and you decided it would be you.

So here you are, stepping off the plane onto Ligandan soil. Liganda, that island nation off the coast of Africa whose oil and mineral wealth allowed them to introduce voluntary slavery. Of course your research indicates that perhaps not every **** who signed her contract did so entirely voluntarily. Debt slavery and criminal slavery and perhaps even more unsavory practices were rumored. But that would only matter if you intended to be a Slavery Tourist, signing a week or month or season long contract with the expectation of eventual release. With your life back in Tokyo in ruins, you have committed to lifelong and permanent slavery. Signing the **** contract will be the last meaningful decision of your life, and you would not have it any other way.

What is more, you have opted for the lowest and most abject of slaveries. You will be a Hucow. Injected with hormones to make you lactate, you will be nothing but livestock, an animal used for her milk, bred to produce more animals. And what would happen to you when you were no longer fertile and your milk dried up in a couple of decades? You did not know. Maybe you would be moved to a factory job or worked in a mine. Maybe you would simply be killed. Whatever your eventual fate, you know and accept that the power of your masters over your fate will be absolute.

As you entered the terminal, you were greeting by a blonde woman who had been waiting for you. You did not even warrant the attention of a free person, as the person sent to conduct you into slavery was herself a ****.

The blonde knelt at your feet. "Mistress, if it pleases you, I am commanded to to take you directly to the Processing Station."

It was a little amusing to be treated so respectfully, but you were still technically a free person, so you supposed it was only your due. You suspected that would not last much longer. "It pleases me, ****. What is your name?"

The blonde rose to her feet. "My name is Dhahabu. It means 'Golden' in Ligandan. I am the property of Liganda International Airport and am at your disposal until such time as you leave the premises or are no long free."

While you were mildly curious about her life as an airport ****, you were more excited by the thought of being enslaved yourself and simply followed Dhahabu. It was interesting to see who were Ligandans and who were from other nations by the way they reacted to your guide. Ligandans were clearly used to seeing a collared **** girl with her tits on display, so anyone who stopped and stared was likely from elsewhere. Dhahabu herself showed no shame at her exposure, so clearly this was her usual day-to-day uniform.

Sooner than you could have imagined, you found yourself seated at a table in a sterile office, and Dhahabu was sliding several pieces of paper towards you. The one on top made your heart race.

"Contract of Enslavement"