James Morrison woke up in his king size bed, all alone. After he had stuck Mimsy in Iron Rod Prison along with Megan, he had all kinds of room. He wasn’t getting any sex in the bed, but he hadn’t gotten any in that bed for a long time. After he had breakfast, he went to his computer and accessed the prison web site. He looked for teaser pictures that included his wife or daughter. He wasn’t surprised to find no pictures of his wife, but he did find pictures of his daughter. The pictures included her in her cell, her in a pillory, her in a tiny cage, her wearing a noose around her neck, and some that looked posed and professionally taken. He went to the members section and entered using the code that they had given him with his receipt for two slaves. He searched for her prison number and found videos and pictures. He used a convenience feature that let him download everything with her in it, then watched some of the video. The sequence of her getting into the cage caught his interest more than the gallows sequence, but he could see the interest in both. He finally searched for Mimsy’s prison number and found only a few still pictures. He understood that. All he wanted was to see that she was alive and reasonably well, and hopefully, over the next few months, getting slimmer.
He went to his job and spent the day doing the usual. He was thinking from time to time about getting a housekeeper, and went on to think about getting a sex slave. He wasn’t sure that they should be the same slave, but he figured he could start with one and see how it worked out. He was trying to decide how to go about it. He could go to a slave dealer and believe them about a slave’s cooking and cleaning abilities. He realized then that he would have to believe anyone he bought from. He went to get a cup of coffee for himself. As he stood in the break room he looked out the window and watched the rain while he sipped coffee. One of his coworkers came in for coffee and said, “You look lost in thought.”
“I’m thinking of getting a housekeeper. I just don’t know where to buy one.”
“I bought mine from a slave training company. They taught her cleaning, cooking, and sex. I’d recommend the same to you, except that Bill Williamson down in accounting is selling his daughter.”
“The gorgeous little blond with the big tits and tight ass? That daughter? Why would he do that?”
“I hear he agrees with that Committee for Universal Enslavement. At least he’s selling her himself to get her a good owner.”
“I’ll head right down there to talk to him.”
“What will Mimsy say about you buying a slave?”
He replied, “Nothing,” without explaining.
Shortly after that, he was in Bill Williamson’s office. “I understand that you are looking to sell something.”
“Yes, I am. You are looking for a slave?”
“A housekeeper and a sex slave. You are selling your daughter?”
“Only to someone who won’t kill or brutalize her.”
“I can live with that. Do you object to whipping?”
“No, that’s fine. I sent her to a slave school to get instruction on cooking, cleaning, and sex. I’m sure you will be delighted with her.”
“How much are you asking?”
“She’s beautiful, smart, and well trained, so I’m asking $4000.”
“Sold.”
“OK, let’s meet at a slaver’s office at lunch time and we’ll do the transfer. I’ll have her naked and chained for you to pick up after work.”
“Why would you do that? She’ll need clothing for the winter, and she will be happier and more productive if she has her personal items. Do you have any use for her clothing or personal stuff?”
“No, not really. I just always thought that slaves were sold nude.”
“I’d just as soon get her with her clothing and the things she needs to take care of herself and keep herself happy. Books, music, mementos, that kind of thing.”
“OK. That’s fine. It actually makes me happier to sell her that way. It looks like I’m selling her to a good home. What will your wife have to say about having her there?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s odd.”
“Not really. You may have heard that my daughter got caught driving under the influence. In order to keep her out of the county slave auction, and probably being sent to a meat dealer, I took her voluntary enslavement and got a deal from the prosecutor and court to send her to a slave prison for a year. Mimsy has been a pain for a few years and was coming apart over the whole thing, so I arranged for two women to go into the slave prison at the same time, both to get straightened out. That leaves me looking for a cook, housekeeper, and sex slave. By the way, I’d appreciate you not telling anyone about Mimsy.”
“Of course. I understand completely. I enslaved my wife a long time ago, and I haven’t had the problems that a lot of men have. I waited until my daughter graduated from high school before enslaving her, although there was the risk of losing her to a boyfriend.”
“That makes me curious. You said she’s smart, but you didn’t send her to college?”
“I agree with the universal enslavement people. She could go to college, but she can do that as a slave, if you want her to.”
“I’ll think about it. Where should I meet you for the transfer?”
That evening, James drove to Williamson’s house. He rang the bell and was greeted by a woman he recognized as Williamson’s wife. “Welcome. You must be Mr. Morrison. I’m Alice Williamson, mother of Janice, who you’re here to pick up. I’m grateful that my husband found a good owner to sell her to. Please come in.”
James entered and followed her to the living room. Bill was sitting there. Janice was standing, wearing a nice dress and shoes, and handcuffed behind her back. Bill rose and shook James’s hand. “I have her ready for you. I just felt it was more proper to hand her over to you this way.”
“That’s fine. We’ll have to take them off for her to load her stuff into my car.”
“Sure. It’s just ceremonial.” Bill turned to his daughter and said, “Janice, this is Mr. Morrison, your new owner. You will obey him.”
She said, “Yes, father.” She seemed shy, but not as broken up about being sold as he figured she would be. She had probably been expecting it. She turned to James Morrison and said, “I am Janice, your new slave. I exist to make you happy.”
“I appreciate that. I’m sure you will do fine. Where is your stuff?”
“It is in the garage, sir. We can load it whenever you are ready.”
“I’m ready now.”
Bill unlocked his daughter’s cuffs and led her and James to the garage, where he opened the door. James stepped out to unlock the car and trunk. Janice picked up a box and put it in the trunk, then returned to the pile of boxes to get more. The boxes filled the trunk and the back seat. When they were all stowed away, she turned to James, clasped her hands behind her back, and looked downward as she said, “Master, I am done loading my boxes.”
“Good. Say goodbye to your father and get in the front seat. By the way, do you have a driver’s license?”
“Yes, sir, with a slave endorsement.” She turned to her father, who embraced her warmly. She walked to the car and got in the passenger’s seat.
Bill said, “Do you want the cuffs?”
“No, thanks, she doesn’t look dangerous. Is she likely to run away?”
“No, the training took care of that.”
“OK. It’s good doing business with you.” The men shook hands, and James got into the car and drove it away.
As he drove, James spoke to Janice. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“OK, I wanted to get a nice dinner. We’ll go out. Is there anything you like?”
“Anything you like, sir.”
“That isn’t an answer to the question. Is there any kind of cuisine you particularly like?”
“Sorry, sir. I like Mexican.”
“Good. So do I.” He drove towards a nice Mexican place that he remembered near Williamson’s house. “We will be around one another a lot, and I prefer a relaxed, comfortable relationship over a formal one. Please answer questions honestly. How do you feel about being sold?”
Janice sat quietly for a little while, with a funny look on her face. She was obviously weighing her answer, worried about what might come of her answer. She finally replied, “I wasn’t all that happy about it. I thought of myself as a human, not a slave, even though I knew what my father thought about females. I was hoping to have a life. I am happy that he sold me to someone who doesn’t plan to kill or brutalize me. Am I to be your sex slave?”
“Yes, I will be having sex with you. No, you will not be totally a sex slave. You will be my housekeeper and cook. Depending on how things work, you may be more than that. We’ll see what happens. For the moment, let’s enjoy dinner and try to get to know one another.”
“Yes, sir. I’d like that.”
October 21st, 2007 at 4:43 am - Edit
Thanks for the “trusty” switch. Another suggestion is the convention that “blond” is usually a male, could be a wood or cloth color, could be a female. “Blonde” is always and only a female.
October 22nd, 2007 at 7:29 am - Edit
Continuation put another way:
If gentlemen prefer blondes, gay gentlemen prefer blonds.
October 23rd, 2007 at 11:39 pm - Edit
Adjutant, stop commenting every time some one types blond instead of blonde.
For starters, the Google task bar spell checker tags it as wrong.
Next let’s see what Wikipedia has to say about it:
“Writers of English will still distinguish between the masculine blond and the feminine blonde[2] and, as such, it is one of the few adjectives in English with separate masculine and feminine forms. However, many writers use only one of the spellings without regard to gender, and without a clear majority usage one way or another. The word is also often used as a noun to refer to a woman with blond hair, but some speakers see this usage as sexist[2] and reject it. (Another hair color word of French origin, brunet(te), also functions in the same way in orthodox English.)”
From AlphaDictionary.com we find this:
blond
Blond describes men: Sean was not a natural blond. This distinction is not necessary though: blond is now generally accepted for both men and women.
In other words, saying a female slave is blond is not an error in modern English
October 24th, 2007 at 2:08 pm - Edit
Mike West, thank you for your comments. I am honored by your attention. Your efforts on behalf of easier writing are to be admired in this realm with too few authors in a rather speciallized area. I may have lower regard for AlphaDictionary than some but we can all make the jump from what is written to what is intended.
There is an advisory on editing that urges being neither the first nor last to accept a change which may be growing in popularity. We see where each of us stands in this murky middle ground.
A few other common questionable usages are “to few”, “lay down”, & “loose a key”. I would regret annoying the best of the authors here but what may seem prissy is just meant to grace the overriding principle that, when encountering ambiguity or when in doubt, clarity rules.
October 26th, 2007 at 6:48 pm - Edit
Adjutant, I am dyslexic. I depend on spell check. Blonde gets marked as wrong by my online spell check. This means I, for one, am not going to stop using blond.
I also have a bad habit of dropping shorter words, both while speaking and while typing. This results in odd posts at time.
So, when can we expect a post (verses a comment) from you about blonde slaves?
October 27th, 2007 at 5:57 am - Edit
Mike, I’d say that your spell checker is more dyslexic than its user. Just checked mine which accepts both.
Thanks for the invitation to post though I don’t yet know how. Sad to say I am better at descriptive writing, pretty bad at dialogue & character delineation, semi-addicted to editing, and generally afflicted with Meandering Key Syndrome, resulting in snail-speed output.
I had begun a story episode set in a slightly different location, with stronger intent to snuff. I tried to weave it into the appealing WSA themes, laws, & ethics at which you are so adept but found it becoming illogical and conflicted thereby in basic structure. That plus the crummy character & dialogue deficiencies. It is currently shelved, quiescent but a bit restive. I am thus more admiring of those who do it better.
Regards, Adj
October 30th, 2007 at 2:22 am - Edit
I like this chapter. The Committee for Universal Enslavement may or may not be an ideal–how about more stories on that organization? I’d like to read more of James Morrison and Janice.