Dark Erotic Fiction

 

THE CASTLEMAN TRUST SERIES

Peter J. Foster
Chapter Nine: Wednesday”s Child

As I exited the world of dreams, I reminded myself that I really needed a bigger bed. We humans are social animals. I require a little space at times because I sometimes require solitude. Happily, today wasn”t a Solitary Peter day. As I awoke, Joseph Campbell”s writings came to mind—the hero walks alone.

I felt the bodies beside me bolt upright.

“Joseph Campbell?” a wide-eyed Kim croaked. She was half asleep. I glanced at Caroline beside me.

“I”ll explain in the shower,” I said. “I think it is six. I seem to be back on my normal circadian cycle. “I”m going downstairs and work out. Caroline, come with me. Kim, it is early for you. If you come along, I will have you lie on the massage table while Caroline and I work out. You can remain here. Choose.”

The Murphy bed had three bodies on it. I moved over and made sure that they were all tucked in. The three were my 14 year olds—the ones enslaved by their parents in Hawaii when WSA took effect. For a moment I mourned their loss of freedom.

“I can not be afraid when I”m with you, Brother Master,” Penny said.

“Dream sharing, again, sister?”

“That”s sister slave girl, Brother Master,” Penny stuck her tongue out at me and giggled. The other two giggled, too. “Yes. We all are. I don”t remember those new rides in Ellisia.”

“I made them up for the dream world. I can feel that you three are still sleepy. Get some rest. I have things I need to do.” I kissed three foreheads and flashed back to Rachel Kincaid-Lake and her stepdaughter at the Eastlake Airport the day we returned from Hawaii.

“You”re not a Rachel,” Penny yawned and closed her eyes. “See you, Brother Master.”

Kim—Doctor Prince—had fallen back into a deep slumber. Perhaps she wouldn”t remember that psychotic moment. Perhaps I wouldn”t have to explain to my doctor that we had achieved the impossible. Or lie to her and say that she had merely been immersed in a vivid dream. Perhaps WSA 2000 never happened, either.

Caroline, also known as Agent Umbermort of the Child Welfare & Protection Agency, Department of Human Services, moves slowly and painfully out of bed as I tucked Kim back beneath the blanket and kissed the slumbering doctor. Caroline barely staggered across the room. I joined her after grabbing my gun box and a pair of pants. The last three days had taught me that I”d have to have clothes constantly at hand. Too many clothing-obsessed textiles in Oklahoma, and they made the rules. I was one little monkey. They were millions of monkeys, and many were bigger monkeys.

We made it down to the gym and I placed Caroline Olga Umbermort face-down on the massage table. Caroline started to object, tried to rise, but I pushed her down with one hand.

“I”m doing this for my pleasure,” I told her. “Why do people pet cats?”

“I don”t know,” Caroline was a lost little girl for a moment. It was up to me to play the Good Daddy, even though Caroline was 28 and I was only 21. For the moment, I was truly her Master.

“All humans have a nurturing instinct. In some of us it is very strong. You became a Child Welfare & Protection Agent so that you could nurture and protect children—so that you could reach back in time to a helpless, terrified little Caroline Olga and rescue her. You”ve seen my dream world. I could escape there and live in it until my body quit. I don”t know what would happen after that, but I can make a difference in this world. We humans all live in our own little fantasy worlds all the time. There is an area where most of our fantasies overlap and we call it “reality.” There are those with minimal overlap. Some do not have any overlap with the common fantasy.” I moved both hands down Caroline”s back to her buttocks and kneaded her boyish meaty hams. She arched her back and groaned. “I liked that, too, Caroline. There are a few positive aspects to slavery. One is that women need a man who is worthy of her. The compulsion inherent in slavery is a cheap substitute. The legal fiction that woman is man”s inferior was necessary at one time. I hoped it was not, but when there was a limited pool of mates. The survival of the human species and the perpetuation of human societies demanded subordination of the individual to the group. I”ll leave it to philosophers to determine if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I just know that we wouldn”t be what we are today if that hadn”t happened. Today, we have a shortage of heterosexual men. Our society has embraced the nuclear family—one man, one woman, and one or two or three children. Changing that core will disrupt society. What WSA does is permit the illusion that we are still based on the nuclear family, but that illusion will not be reality. I guess it was always an illusion. We had a high divorce rate—the average first marriage lasts just 7.6 years and I forget what the mean is. Marriage ends in death or divorce. Always. The positive thing about divorce is that both people have survived being married.” Caroline chuckled. I tested the oil bottle to see if it was warm enough. It was, so I poured some on Caroline”s legs and feet and rubbed the oil in. Caroline squirmed and moaned. “Most families were not the nuclear family prior to the Gay Marriage Act. Now we have three types of legal marriages: man and woman, man and man, and woman and woman. The Muslims still practice polygamy—but not in the United States, not legally. Some of the many Hindu sects practice polygamy or polyandry—that”s where one woman has multiple husbands. The Mormons officially gave up polygamy in the 1890″s so that Utah could become a state, but splinter cults still practice it. There are swingers and open marriages and sexually active singles and those few totally celibate people. No one model meets human needs. Now we have WSA 2000. Last year, when the legislation passed and President Carson signed the bill into law, I talked with my girl friend Jane Hanson about the bill. She volunteered to become my slave as soon as the bill went into effect. I love her, so I talked with her parents. Bill Hanson was upset and Cheryl, his second wife, seemed to be turned on. Well, you know how that turned out. Bill and Cheryl went on vacation in Maui and Cheryl enslaved both of their daughters. Bill enslaved Cheryl a few minutes afterwards. I didn”t find out until a few days ago, but they embarked on a cruise and the three new slave girls didn”t wear any clothes for the rest of their vacation. I was amazed at Jane. She was willing to either just become my slave, or to marry me and have me enslave her at the wedding alter. She didn”t care as long as I wound up owning her totally. There were some women in the 1990″s who had surrendered control of their lives to their husbands—total control. There were many small groups, but their theory was that women could only be truly happy if she were completely controlled by men. We humans overcomplicate our lives.”

I had worked over Caroline”s feet and was moving up her calves. She gripped the edge of the table and stiffened, shuddering. It wasn”t pain—it was intense enough to be pain, but Caroline wasn”t in pain.

“Don”t stop, motherfucker,” Caroline gasped, “I”ll kill you if you stop now!”

I was just rubbing her feet. She wasn”t addressing the foot issue. Caroline sprang from the table and tackled me. We writhed on the floor. She had become a rutting animal. It was over in a few minutes. I managed to get both of our sweaty, reeking bodies into the shower. Cold water didn”t revive her, so I just left it cold until we were well-rinsed, then shut off the water and stepped into the air dryer booth. I”m sure that the domestic staff appreciated not having to do all those towels.

When she had recovered, I guided a subdued Caroline upstairs for a quick breakfast. Juanita and Nancy were there already.

“I”d like to look over your duty schedule, Juanita,” I said, and the doorbell rang. “I”ll get that. Get breakfast for six. Nancy, get Mr. Paulson. Tell him I said that is an emergency defensive enslavement.”

I can learn! I put on my pants and unlocked my gun box. My SIG went in a hip pocket and the second magazine went into my left-front pocket. When I answered the door, there were three naked women kneeling on the porch, their hands on top of their heads and their eyes cast down.

“Come in. Put your clothes on the floor in here and follow me into the kitchen. Are you ready to give urine samples?”

“Yes, sir. I feel like my bladder is bursting. I”m Julie. This is Kelly and Barbie. Aren”t you going to ask us why?”

“Tell my slaver, Mr. Paulson. Oh, darn, I need a notary, too.”

“No, sir. I have our birth certificates, driver”s licenses and notarized voluntary enslavement forms naming Peter J. Foster as our master. We did it at Zookos last night. Oh, yes, I won”t need this unless I”m already enslaved.”

“I see,” I glanced at the dates and did the math. Their driver”s licenses were learner”s permits! Everything appeared legal. The bottle was small, brown—and cyanide. I didn”t need a picture; I understood. “First, enslavement. Then we talk.” Courtney and Ginger had come downstairs with a camera. “Good. Courtney, undress and conduct the interview. Ginger, start recording.”

“We can”t broadcast this, Master,” Courtney was skinning off her night shirt.

“This isn”t for public release. Be sure to attach the copyright notices on the front of this. I want four copies. Mail a copy to each of their families and I need a copy for this morning no later than eight. When one of the families publishes this, we sue.”

“Master! You”re mean!”

She didn”t know the half of it.

“What”s this all about?” a muzzy Mr. Paulson asked. I handed him the documents.

“I need three sample bottles. They are going to give me the samples on the back porch. I want you to finish their enslavements right there. Do your tests outside.” I turned to the crowd that had formed. I guess I had woken up everybody in the house. “Slaves, I need you all naked for this video. It is not for public consumption but someone will violate our copy write and I will have them nailed. All of them.”

“Free women, too?” Doctor Prince asked.

“I have no right to order you to be naked, but I would appreciate it. I want this to overwhelm their families. People, there is reason to be urgent about this!”

The three girls—let”s not mince words, they were only 16—trooped back out to the chilly porch. There was a bit of nervous bladder hesitation, but all three completed their testing on camera. I had them finish emptying their bladders on the porch while Shelly fetched three blankets. Nancy used a garden hose to rinse their crouches and legs, and to wash away the puddles. Juanita toweled them off at the door. Mr. Paulson finished the tests, completed the documents, and had his wife Paula retrieve the slavery certificates.

“They are now legally nothing but animals, just like you wanted.” I displayed the completed documents before the camera. “The only difference is that I am not unnecessarily cruel to my slaves. Now I”m going to have breakfast and they are going to tell you why they ran away from home and got themselves enslaved to me. It would have to be Wednesday. “Wednesday”s child is full of woe.” It is apropos.”

Juanita laid out an extensive breakfast. I took her and Courtney aside.

“Safety first in the kitchen. I don”t want anybody hurt in there. Wear safety equipment now—no cameras point this way. Just in that direction.”

“Master,” Wilma Bank was one of the older trust slaves. “I have a suggestion. You got them blankets, but they will warm up faster sitting on laps under those blankets.”

“Excellent. Do it. I want breakfast inside the new slaves; they haven”t eaten for a while..” I turned to the camera as Wilma, Pam Harrington, and Paula Paulson took the new slaves by the hand and led them to the table. They were soon seated and wrapped up. Hot tea was served along with a mountain of toast. Juanita, Nancy and Shelly remained naked—they were serving and on-camera. “You see examples of slave initiative too numerous to list here. That”s a valuable slave—one that sees a need and fills it. Submissiveness is not the same as passivity. Julie, tell us why you ran away from home, hid out all night, and showed up on my door step for enslavement.”

Julie swallowed her toast and gulped down some tea. She wiped her mouth and her cheek—there were tears—and looked into Ginger”s camera. Somewhere another of the GVVN slaves had rigged up a boom mike and was holding it over Julie”s head.

“On Sunday Daddy enslaved and live roasted Mommy. He promised that I would be the main course at my own birthday party this afternoon. I saw Master Peter”s home on television, and when one of his slaves called Mommy, I answered the phone. Aunt Nancy gave me directions and I grabbed my two best friends. They”ll tell you about their parents. I didn”t want to be eaten! I am throwing myself at the mercy of Master Peter and I make no demands on him. I”m betting my life and my best friends” lives that Master Peter will not kill and eat us—that he will take care of us so that we can all raise children.”

Kelly Murphy was Colonel Justin Murphy”s niece and she spoke next.

“I don”t have a daddy. Mommy was tired of having me around. She said that she was thinking of selling me off. Mommy, I”m gone now. You don”t have to sell me off. I”m no longer your problem.”

“Hi, I”m Barbie Manson. I mean I was Barbie Manson. Now I don”t know what I am. Things have been getting crazy in our neighborhood. It seems as if everybody is enslaving their wives and daughters. Many of those slaves are being killed, sold at auctions, or are being roasted and eaten. They”re just doing that to top each other socially. I feel safe here.”

While Courtney began interviewing each of the girls, I was on the phone with Frank Prater of Prater”s Gun Shop. I got clearance to use his range and bring a few guests. Cops, I told him. I”d be there at nine. I”d need some .40 S&W for practice and a Glock 22 magazine if he had any. He wanted to have coffee with me, first. My next call was to District Manager Bailey Saunders of the DHS”s Child Welfare & Protection Agency.

“I didn”t expect to get you this early, sir,” I said. “I need to know if Agent Umbermort is still authorized to carry arms.”

“She hasn”t been prohibited arms,” he said. “I answered because it has to be important for you to bother me. What”s up?”

“I don”t want to talk about it on the phone, sir, but if you make it to Prater”s Gun Shop at nine this morning, I”ll explain.”

“What are you doing there? Buying a gun?”

“Mr. Prater lets me use his firing range.”

“I”ll be there. What”s the address?” I read it off the business card. “Nine o”clock. Got it.”

Courtney was waiting patiently for me to finish. She hadn”t been the same since the night I put Ms. Uma Tuesday Castleman in the Trust infirmary. I turned to her and she asked for any final words.

“These girls are now safe from your wanton lusts. My next goals are to get them high school diplomas and assess them for their future careers as my slaves. This video is not for public consumption. Heed the copyright laws. This video informs you that you no longer have any legal rights over your former daughters. Do not attempt to contact them. You are not welcome on Castleman Trust property and will be treated as trespassers. Enjoy the rest of your lives. Good bye.”

“And, cut!” Courtney handed the camera to Ginger and instructed her to edit it. Ginger leered at me. Courtney leered at me. Caroline blushed.

“You do deserve a reward. First, get those DVD”s cut and have Mr. Harrington look them over. I need a copy shortly. Then get ready to re-enact the enslaving for the public—make sure that it is G-rated. Be sure to add a voice over or one of those text on screen messages that this is a re-enactment because the actual enslavement wasn”t suitable for a family audience. I want this out to the public this evening.”

Courtney deserved more than a quickie. She raced to my room and was on the bed with her tail in the air.

“Doggy style is my favorite, Master!”

A quickie is what she got. Daylight was burning. Why are my vacations as hard as Finals Week? Courtney was the standard centerfold hottie except for temporary baldness. She had brown eyes—I prefer blue, but I take what I get. Courtney”s web site listed her as 5″6″ and 114 pounds, with 36C-24-36 measurements. She admitted to being a tigress in bed and claimed that she”d eat men and women for breakfast—Courtney liked rough sex and being the top in a BDSM scene. I barely entered her very wet vagina when Courtney shuddered and collapsed. I exchanged glances with Caroline. Slowly disengaging, I rolled Courtney over and checked her for pulse and respiration. She suddenly gasped and began coughing.

“Sorry,” she groaned. “I forgot to breath!”

Sex is all in the mind. She must have been priming herself all week. I reentered in the missionary position and brought her to orgasm again, then remained in her as I quietly ordered Caroline to get someone to sit with Courtney. When Natalie Smith, Sergeant Carl Maxwell”s PPC”d girlfriend and a Trust slave, arrived, Courtney said something about being ready to ride a spit.

“Please don”t joke about that,” I softly chided, “A piece of me would die with you on that spit.”

When I took Caroline by the hand to wash up, I saw that Natalie and Caroline were both weeping. I couldn”t see Courtney”s face—it was pressed against a pillow.

We took four cars to Prater”s. All four law enforcement officers, Father, and Colonel Murphy were in the other cars. It looked as if we would have ten shooters on line. Parked at Prater”s was an official DHS sedan. Caroline had ridden naked to Prater”s. She scampered out of the passenger seat wearing only a pair of battered beach thong sandals and grabbed the two duffle bags in the rear. We went to the back door as directed where a gray-haired slave let us in.
“Edna or Ethyl?”

“Ethyl, young Master,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. This wasn”t the beaten down woman of Monday! “Master Frank is waiting for us in the classroom.”

Edna was standing by a buffet table and there were two rows of six chairs in front of a podium. The room was just large enough. I stood in the middle of the room and thought that it would be now or never.

“I don”t allow slaves in my store,” Frank said. “It isn”t safe.”

“Agent Umbermort is a sworn law enforcement officer, sir,” I said. “The circumstances are complicated, but I am giving her remedial training.”

“Judge Wright basically made Caroline a slave to Peter without yanking her law enforcement credentials.” Mr. Saunders said. “It is a long story. Caroline is supposed to be naked at all times until Monday, but Peter is using his own judgment as to when she is supposed to be naked. Judge Wright agreed—for a price.”

“I can guess what that price was,” Frank”s face contorted. “Whatever she did, she”s lucky. Jack Wright only has use for girls as barbeque. He prefers pretty little boys.”

“I need some advice,” I said pulling out a stack of stapled reports and passed them out, which also served to take the discussion away from Judge Wright. “Professional advice. I had a nightmare about the Governor being attacked at the picnic on Saturday. This attack will involve an old 3.5-inch rocket launcher, a stolen M1919A6 light machine gun set up 200 meters from the governor”s motorcade, and five men in long black coats and cowboy hats. The five men will be armed with two light automatic weapons and three stockless 12-gauge shotguns, six revolvers and four automatic pistols, plus six Mk III concussion hand grenades. Their main task is spooking the Governor”s bodyguard and forcing them to evacuate her to her car, which will be lashed by fire from the machine gun and rocket launcher. There are two men on each crew-served weapon and three rockets and four belts of 250 rounds each for the machine gun. The nine pages are FelonPic-On-Line composites I”ve made up. I was able to identify one man as Sandy Geoff of Bicycle Flats, Montana. I wasn”t able to determine motive. My question, gentlemen, is what can I do about that attack? That is why I”m here today. I want to ready myself for action.”

“This is a dream?” Captain Lee asked.

“Anybody here ever hear of Project Star Gate? I don”t mean you, George.” Colonel Murphy”s eyes were boring into mine. “No? Good. Forget you heard the name. I won”t be able to get the governor to cancel, but I can make last-minute changes. You look bothered, Lieutenant Foster. Out with it. Your information is worth my time.”

“This is a rather elaborate attack, sir, and it can spectacularly fail. If I were doing it, there would be a couple of snipers, someone covering the alternate route, and perhaps one of the bodyguard detail inside. My point of view was Sandy Geoff”s. He wouldn”t know everything—he”s on the bazooka.”

“That is the wildest tale I”ve ever heard of!” Mr. Saunders said.

“Then you won”t mind if I have Agent Umbermort check out the Garret Haven Children”s Home?” I broke eye contact with the colonel to look into Mr. Saunders” shocked eyes. “I think we actually have some probable cause. You should have a runaway from there during the last week or so. Officer Umbermort can drop by and check to see if there is anything wrong. You can drop in at the same time as her supervisor while I pretend to be the dumb jock driving for the two of you. Just before you visit, call them and set up an appointment. I”ll get the licenses of the cars that leave.”

We had little time for shooting. I introduced Caroline to the Applegate method of instinctive shooting. I admire both Colonel Cooper and the late Colonel Applegate. I corresponded with both gentlemen. They teach the same thing, with subtle emphasis on different aspects. Applegate taught more moving, close-in and night time shooting. Cooper focused on the front sight instead of eye-level pointing because he was engaging targets farther out. Applegate”s program was all inside of 50 feet—Cooper engaged target with the service pistol out to 100 meters. The Weaver Stance and flash front sight picture were vital to hitting beyond 50 feet. One-handed eye-level pointing with eyes focused on the target instead of the front sight was more appropriate for the majority of close-combat shootings. The two gentlemen DID say the same thing about technique when talking extremes of close range or long distance shooting. Applegate”s method produced reactive shooting up close and did so with less training. Cooper”s method took longer, used more ammunition, but the shooter had six times the effective range. Applegate started at 5 feet and worked out. Cooper started at 50 feet, went longer, and only then practiced “close combat” at 21 feet. Applegate”s technique works fine with Tasers. I used both techniques, depending on circumstances. As I said, except for the subtle differences, they were the same. I didn”t understand the battle of the disciples at all. Close combat was a special operation? I knew that both soldiers and police did most of their fighting at close combat ranges. Perhaps it is a sheep thing.

A few minutes instructing Caroline in the new techniques and having her dress were all it took. We repaired to the range and I demonstrated the close-range techniques with my issue M-11. The pump-handle action with the little SIG produced two-shot bursts on target. I stayed in the ten ring at 15 feet, which is actually tighter than called for—distributing fire across multiple vital organs produces faster attacker shut-down. I had Caroline do the same. She was slower.

“Focus on the target, Caroline. When the pistol lines up, trigger two shots—bam-bam. Keep eyes on the target. In the field, you really should be watching your enemy”s hands and not staring at your gun. Use the sights when the barrel is wider than the target.”

The next few times Caroline performed the drill as specified. Her hits stayed in the eight ring, which is actually better than I did. She hit one close to center and one about four inches away—virtually perfect. After the other police tried shooting that way, I moved the target out to 100 feet—about 33 meters. Caroline hit the target less than half the time. Most of the cops said that the target was too far away—but not Steve Jordan, a detective with the Eastlake Metro Police Department. He had the S&W 4043 pistol issued to the SWAT teams in .40 S&W. We worked out to 100 yards, me with the SIG and him with the 4043. I think he was the better shot. I was low on 9mm, so I borrowed the Glock 22 issued to Agent Umbermort and put ten for ten in the 100 yard target. Then I got a laugh when I pulled the little Smith and Wesson revolver. I saw money being swapped on the sidelines.
“You”ve got to be kidding.” Steve Jordan said. “You can”t hit that target with that little thing!”

“You saw that the target was clean. Ten rounds.”

“You hit that thing and I”ll buy you a case of beer.”

“Make it a hundred rounds of 357 and if I lose I”ll buy you a case of Conner Branch. Ten rounds. What score out of a hundred?”

“Eighty. Anything less, you lose.”

Eighty points was keeping all ten shots inside the B-27 silhouette target”s 8-point ring. I could average that. If I got two in the 7 ring, I”d probably have two in the 9 ring. I assumed a roll-over prone position that stabilized me and my revolver against Mother Earth, cocked the little stainless steel revolver, aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. I did it four more times, opened the cylinder, punched out the empties and shoved five more 357 magnum cartridges in the cylinder. I closed the revolver and fired off five more shots. When I had finished, everyone except Caroline was grinning from ear to ear. I cleared the revolver and cased it.

“You shot awful fast,” Jordan beamed. “I”m going to enjoy my beer.”

He swaggered down-range. When he got to the target, I heard him exclaim “Holy fuck!”

“I guess you won that one, kid,” Mr. Prater said as the crowd moved down range. I stayed at the firing line. “You look beat.”

“Concentration took a lot out of me,” I admitted. “It was just applying the basics of marksmanship on a stationary target under ideal conditions, sir. Sight alignment. Place the aiming point. Breath. Trigger control. Simple stuff.”

“Ninety-six points!” Jordan yelled. “No way!”

“That”s right,” I heard Colonel Murphy say. “These two broke the line. He got ninety-eight points.”

“Gentlemen,” I yelled down-range as they argued. “Are both scores greater than eighty? If so, then what is the argument all about?”

“Kid,” Roger Lee told me, “when you are tired of playing soldier, I could use you at the police academy as a marksmanship instructor. How did you learn to shoot so well?”

“My father taught me,” I said,” and five thousand rounds through a Ruger .22 automatic pistol. Oh, by the way, I want you and your ladies to watch this DVD and return it to me.” I handed Frank the enslavement video I made earlier. “I think you”ll be outraged. Come on over fro dinner if you don”t mind a bunch of howling women.”

“My own two scare me enough, kid. How do you do it?”

“Because I have to, sir. Because there is no other way.”

An hour later I was using my digital camera to record the three cars leaving the Garrett Haven Children”s Home. Ten minutes later, Saunders and Umbermort showed up in the official car. Agent Umbermort was in uniform and wore a cheap Halloween wig and her plain-glass spectacles. I sat there for thirty minutes until a weeping Umbermort was led out by Mr. Saunders. I left and met them in the parking lot of DiscountMart. Umbermort was again naked except for those beach thongs—and her hands were secured behind her back with issue chrome-plated Smith and Wesson police handcuffs. Sanders brought over Caroline”s duffle bag and we secured it in my trunk.
“She”s had it rough in there. Take her home as soon as you finish.”

“Twelve girls,” she muttered. “TWELVE!”

Saunders retreated. I guessed what had happened.
“How many total?”

“I don”t know. They sold them as meat.”

“Wasn”t there some law against that?”

“No.”

“Caroline, look at me. It isn”t your fault. I know that you want to feel as if you have power to change that, but you don”t.”

“Peter, I took those 12 girls from their homes and put them someplace safe. Those monsters sold them!”

“We”ll talk on the way home. We”ll get Kim to talk to you. The Garret Haven has top marks. They became the legal guardian, right? Once transferred, the State of Oklahoma”s only responsibility was to make sure that all regulations were met. The girls were supposed to stay there until age 18, right?”

“That”s just it! Eight of those girls were between 16 and 18. They were sold. They”re not supposed to be sold into slavery!”

“Caroline Olga Umbermort! Until we get home, I want you to repeat this phrase: they lied to me. That”s what happened, isn”t it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I need to buy you some clothes and wigs. I need you with me on Saturday.” I hesitated before asking,” Girls who ran away from foster homes in the days before WSA 2000 wound up in juvenile hall. What happens to them today?”

“Oh, God!” Caroline sobbed. She calmed down after a while, and I walked her inside to the beauty parlor. Caroline hung her head and hunched her shoulders—but it wasn”t because she was humiliated over being naked and bald.

“Hi, Dawn,” I read the “sales associate” tag on the tunic of the woman at the register. “I need wig caps, wigs, and cosmetics. I don”t know much about them. Can you help me?”

Dawn peered at Caroline, swallowed hard, and asked me to come with her. One of the wigs was supposed to look like Officer Umbermort”s hair a few days ago. It is amazing how much a woman can alter her appearance! Dawn talked with someone on the telephone for a few minutes as I removed and pocketed the handcuffs. In a short time I had a basic cosmetic kit, four wigs, a dozen wig caps, and Dawn was going to take me to the Junior Miss clothing section. There we met Becky, and got several wrap dresses, some panties (thongs and bikinis), two pair of jeans, shorts, two bathing suits, a set of pajamas, a light jacket, a sweater, two bath robes, skirts, blouses, and socks. Notice—no bras. Except for her two-piece swim suit, Caroline didn”t need any. We were heading to the shoe department when Bob Odell and two police officers showed up.

“Hi, Peter. How have these two slaves been treating you?”

“Top-rate service, Mr. Odell. I was going to fill out favorable customer comment forms at the check-out stand. They went above the call of duty.”

“Please call me Bob. I gave you my wife and daughter after I enslaved them. We should be on a first name basis at the Castleman Trust. Officers, there is no problem here. I know Master Peter personally, and this slave is an adult, not a child.”

“I would commend your slaves, sir. They were looking out for your company.”

“You would. Becky, Dawn, give me your slave tunics. You will go home with Master Peter until further notice. Oh, yes, Caroline”s clothes are on the house. Get these two something to wear as well. They will be at the Trust for a while.”

“You are Mr. Castleman?” Becky bubbled. “I saw you on GVVN!”

“Actually, I”m Peter Foster. If you want to meet Ms. Castleman, you can. She”s staying with us.”

Caroline was depressed. Dawn was subdued. Becky bounced around barefoot. We picked up additional clothing for the two new domestic staffers. I bought tennis shoes and sturdy outdoor sandals for all three women.

“Dawn, Becky, find one pair of shoes that make you feel pretty,” I said as I watched a pair of boots being fitted to Caroline”s feet. “When I have the time, I will want to have the rest of the domestic staff fitted out with a basic three-shoe outfit. I plan to take all of my slaves out from time to time, and you will have to leave the compound on business. Are you two hungry? We”ll grab some snacks on the way out.”

Mr. Odell met us at the counter and got us through without incident. The two police escorted me to my car.

“Sirs, do any of you know Captain Lee?”

“Would that be Roger C. Lee?”

“Yes, Sergeant. I went shooting with him this morning. You might want to check with him just to still that nagging alarm in the back of your mind. I can tell, you are one of the real protectors. Meet two more—Dawn and Caroline. Dawn is the reason that you were called. She apparently thought that I was kidnapping a child and properly called for assistance. Caroline has had a bad week. She is Agent Umbermort of the Child Welfare & Protection Agency. First, she wound up like this for a minor disciplinary infraction. Caroline is still an active sworn law enforcement officer, it is just that she”s had too much battle fatigue. It is getting chilly out here, officers. I don”t want my slaves to freeze because I cannot stop chatting. Here is my business card. Can you follow me home? I think I have evidence of a crime. Caroline just found out that she was lied to. A dozen young women were sold to a meat plant straight from the Garret Haven Children”s Home. I suspect that the sale may have involved fraud. Hill”s is the biggest AMS processor and gives the best prices and service—but they have a policy of adult AMS only. I worked for Jim Hill before the AMS and talked with him. He demands proof of age. If those documents are at Hill”s and they say “18″ when the Garret Haven records say “16″ there is not only fraud, but because the slaves were snuffed somebody in the chain committed a death-penalty offense.”

“I”ll be right behind you,” the sergeant said. “I have two daughters and I don”t want them to wind up eaten!”

The drive home was short, but I had enough time to talk to Dawn. Becky was just confused. Caroline was glum.

“There are three kinds of people, according to cops,” I said. “Sheep—that”s the normal people. Wolves prey on sheep. Then there are sheep dogs. We protect the flock. Dawn, you tried to protect your DiscountMart and my Caroline. You might want to hear what happened to me at seven this morning. Nancy is one of my domestic staff. She called her sister and got her niece instead. Her niece told Nancy that Nancy”s sister had been enslaved and eaten. Julie told Nancy that her father was going to enslave Julie on her 16^th birthday and live-roast her at her own party. Julie is technically a run-away, but she reached the age of consent just after six this morning and she was legally entitled to volunteer for enslavement. Now she”s safe in my place.”

“Yes, I was there. Happy fucking birthday, Julie!” Caroline was working herself into a rage. “It is too bad that the best thing you could do for yourself was enslavement. Julie brought her best friends along. Master Peter made a video of their enslavement and he threw down the gauntlet to their monster parents! He all but dared them to come gunning for him! That would be their last mistake. I have been a cop for 6 years. The 8 ring on our cop targets is this big.” Caroline held her hands about a foot apart. She reduced that to eight inches. “That is the eight ring. Here is the nine ring. The ten ring. The X ring. My qualification with the .40 S&W Glock pistol is to 50 feet. Master Peter took me shooting today and made me shoot at 100 feet. I hope those stupid fucks come snooping around the Castleman place! It will be the last mistake they ever make!”

“Good!” I said. “They lied to you! Angry is better than sad. Angry at others is best. Just do not become a monster when fighting monster—that car doesn”t belong here.” I pulled over and put on my emergency flashers. I took my S&W from its shoulder holster and handed it to Caroline. “Protect these two. Protect yourself. If you die, those Garret Haven people get away with murder. There are binoculars in the glove box. Give them to me.”

“I wish I could handle a gun,” Dawn said. “I want to help.”

“Right now, help me by sitting on Becky. I don”t want her hurt, either. Here are the handcuffs.”

The police came to my window and I opened it. I pointed at the car and handed out binoculars.

“Sir, that car doesn”t belong there. I have reason to be wary. I am Lieutenant Foster, Oklahoma Army National Guard J-6, and I have been warned of danger to my person and family. Can you call for back up and check that car out, please? By the way, I am legally armed, too. I am available if you need to deputize me. National Guard doesn”t fall under posse comitatus. In my house are up to four law enforcement officers and my National Guard commanding officer.”

“We will handle it, sir!”

A few minutes later, they had arrested a young woman. I was signaled forward.

“Sir, do you know this woman?”

“No, Sergeant Deter. I haven”t seen her before.”

“You have my Kelly!”

“Oh, you”re Mrs. Murphy. Colonel Murphy would like to have a word with the woman who threatened to sell his niece to Hill”s. Officers, is it too much trouble to bring her inside? Would it break any rules? We might have an expeditious means of clearing this up.”

“Yes.” Sergeant Deter smiled. “This is getting interesting!”

A few minutes later we were all inside. I removed the handcuffs from Becky and Juanita clucked over the new girls.

“We need to get more groceries, Master! How will we feed everyone?”

“Watch and learn, Head of Housekeeping. Watch and learn.”

The woman wanted to see her attorney.
“I think you know that there are only two alternatives, Mrs. Murphy,” I said. “Your father-in-law will be down in a moment. But if you want to go to jail right now, I”ll get out of your way. You will be tried tomorrow morning after a night in jail. You will be convicted. Sergeant Deter, what is she charged with?”

“Loitering, stalking, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer, plus two dozen other charges, mostly lying,” Sergeant Deter kept a straight face. “She will be convicted the minute Judge Wright sees the charge sheets. She could wind up summarily executed, even though she is cute. Perhaps the judge will be lenient and auction her off. She could go to a sex club and live perhaps six months. She might last a year on a labor gang—but I doubt it. She”s pretty, but I don”t know if she”d make a good domestic. Ma”am, do you have any skills? If you aren”t bought in 7 days, you go to the meat packing plant!”

“Justin!” Colonel Murphy came downstairs with Mr. Harrington. “Help me!”

“I can”t help her, Justin,” Mr. Harrington said. “Conflict of interest. I”m the attorney for the Castleman Trust. I cannot represent you. Public defenders will give you this advice—volunteer for enslavement. If you don”t, you will be convicted of lying to the judge unless you plead guilty to all charges. Officers, was she charged with stalking?”

“Yes, and with assaulting a police officer.”

“What are they doing for judicial executions next week? Hanging? Impalement? The guillotine?”

“A slave collar manufacturer has contracted to test the “kill” settings on his new line of electric control slave wear. We expect at least 100 babes this week.”

“That could be painful,” Colonel Murphy said. “If you were after Kelly”s money, you cannot get it. Enslaving her would make all moneys revert to the Castleman Trust. When she enslaved herself in order to save her life, all that money went to the Castleman Trust. It gets better—your monthly stipend ended the day Kelly became a slave. Your house is now Mr. Foster”s. You don”t own more than the clothes on your back. If I remember correctly, you don”t even own a car.”

“It was a joke! I was afraid of losing control!”

“Nicole, you have only one sliver of control left. You can go to jail, or you can become Mr. Foster”s slave. You know what awaits you at jail.”

“Let me tell her, Master,” Caroline strode up to the frightened woman and glared at her. “I am a Child Welfare & Protection Agent. My name is Caroline Olga Umbermort. I am working undercover on several wrongful enslavement cases and your name was mentioned to me in connection with one. I was forced to undergo meat grading as part of my assignment. That”s where a butcher assesses how nice you will look on a platter or a spit. That was the third-worst thing I had ever been through. Next, I watched six other women get meat graded. They didn”t have my partner, Lieutenant Foster, to protect them. After they were graded, the butcher shoved a hook through their heels and hung them upside down. He cut their throats and they bled to death. I said that was the third-worst thing.

“The second-worst thing that happened to me was being born to my monster of a father and his brother. They beat and raped me as a child. At age 13, they put me in a hospital and had my ovaries cut out. That”s why I look like a little girl. I never matured sexually because my source of female hormones was surgically removed. I”m 28, so you know that it was a horrible crime against children back then. I survived and became a Child Welfare & Protection Agent so that I could stop other monsters!

“Today is the worst day of my life. I failed. Thirteen girls died because of me. I took them from bad homes, homes with parents just like you, only poor, and put them in a foster home where I thought they”d be safe. It turned out that one foster home was selling young girls—no older than Kelly—to AMS butchers.” Caroline broke down at that point. Becky and Dawn took her and held her close.

“Remember, Caroline, they lied to you.”

I looked at Nicole. She was beginning to “get it.”

“You are a slave in all but name. You cannot win in court. You have no resources and nobody in your corner. Do you want to find out if Caroline is successful with her monster hunt? You won”t live that long, you won”t see any television or read a newspaper unless you choose this option.”

“Kelly! Help your momma!”

Kelly walked in and pulled her dress over her head. She wore nothing else. Kelly knelt in front of me, head bowed.

“Master, I am here.”

“Kelly, I have to commend you for last night. You and Barbie could have come in and stayed warm and gotten safe sooner. You risked your life for your friend Julie.” I looked right in Nicole”s eyes while I spoke. “Julie was so frightened that she had a bottle of cyanide with her. She surrendered it to me this morning before I enslaved her. Julie was not going to let herself be roasted alive. Julie wasn”t 16 until six this morning, and she took no chances. Kelly, I commend you for thinking of another”s welfare and putting yourself at risk—last night is not one I”d like to have spent huddling in a ditch, and that”s what us soldiers do!

“See what you threw away, Mrs. Murphy? Kelly is a wonderful and unique human being.”

“But it was just a joke!”

“That joke was rather expensive. It cost you all you own. It cost you your freedom. If you don”t volunteer to be my slave, you will die soon—but it will be so bad that you will welcome getting killed. Kelly, if your step-mother does the smart thing, you are to pretend that you forgive her and you will not have revenge. She will have the opportunity to prove that I wasn”t wrong to give her a second chance. Do you agree to this? If not, I will have the police take her away right now and she won”t ever have a good day again.”

“Master Peter, I”m not that way. I will not start anything. The past is dead. We slaves have no past.”

“Good answer. It means that Mrs. Nicole Murphy has a chance to live out the year. She might even have a happy Christmas instead of being a Christmas ham. Mrs. Murphy, if you accept enslavement, get naked. Mr. Harrington, Mr. Prater is a notary and has his stuff with him. He and Mr. Paulson can finish the enslavement. I want the meat tax paid so that if I find that I was wrong to give Mrs. Murphy a break, I can fix that mistake immediately. The next stop will be Hill”s for meat grading. Then I will cage you for the night. Kelly, dear, I won”t take you with me. Hill”s is a very bad place. Remember what happened to Jane?”

“Who was Jane?” Sergeant Deter asked. I noticed my sister had whispered something to him and was now holding her hand over her mouth, shaking and weeping. Penny had responded to my signal.

“She was the woman I would have married when she turned 18. I tried to keep her out of Hill”s. Now - ” I let my voice trail off. “Caroline isn”t the only one to experience failure.”

“She”s - ” Nicole said.

“Yes. I - I don”t want to talk about Jane. You have mere seconds. Jail or undress. Get with it.”

I was relieved that Nicole undressed quickly. She was embarrassed to urinate in a bottle and fill out forms and get bound up. In a few minutes it was me and the police—the two on-duty cops and the four that were board members of the trust—were on our way to Hill”s Fine Meats with two naked women. The sight of police brought Jim Hill running. He saw me and the two women and ushered us into his office.

“I have a meat grade job for you and I want her back unharmed. Just stamp her thigh. Here the cash.”

“It”s on the house, Peter. Why the cops?”

I waited until my newest slave had departed.

“I think somebody falsified documents and lined you up for fraud, Mr. Hill.” I motioned to Caroline. She handed him some printouts. “I have the documents from Garret Haven Children”s Home that indicate eight children ages 16 and 17 were processed here. If their documents were forged to show them to be 18, then we have a criminal case and you are a victim and a material witness. Legally, you CAN process any slave girl sold to you. Did you know that in California a man can marry a girl of any age as long as he pays a judge to okay the marriage? All legal and proper. Then he enslaves his wife, brings her here, tries to get her spitted—”

“I”d break his back for that! I have principles! Let me look up our records.”

It took only a few moments.
“Peter, I never changed the passwords after you set up our record keeping system. I want your help resetting them after this. You know those four women we processed the night of your mass meat grading for Ms. Castleman? They were all from Garret Haven.”

I felt ill, but I had tools. Stop Thought. ICBM—the Instant Calm Breath Method. Fight monsters—don”t become a monster.

“Did they work through an agent?”

“I know the clown. Mr. Pickels is a shady character. I hear he lives at the Garret Haven.”

“We”ll take it from here, Lieutenant Foster. You did most of our work for us. Will Agent Umbermort be part of the case?”

“I”ll bring her in with her boss tomorrow,” I said, handing my cell phone to Caroline. “Would you believe that this is Spring Break for me?”

About ninety minutes after arriving at Hill”s, we were back home. I had Nicole sedated. She needed it. Kelly approached me and knelt again.

“Yes, Kelly?”

“Master, is Nicole going to be caged?”

“As soon as Doctor Prince finishes her treatment. I was rough on her. I have to be.”

“Sir, may I spend the night in the cage with her? So she isn”t lonely? I know she is drugged, but even though she tried to turn me into a barbeque, I forgive her. I need to let her know that she must be the best possible slave. If she cannot be nice to me in return, Master, I tried my best.”

“You are a good girl. Draw a blanket from Juanita and—”

“Master, if Nicole has to spend the night in chains and naked, I should be in the cage the same way. You can shove me in the next cage—but I”d rather give her the comfort of human touch. She will need it.”

“I see. You are a good girl, Kelly. Get one or two blankets, your choice, and I”ll unchain Nicole. I”ll leave your cage unlocked, too.”

“Please lock us in, Master. I need that.”

Slaves telling the master what to do? A good master knows when to take advice. This was all about healing. I gave permission—then went to cleaning guns. I had just reassembled my SIG when it was time to reenact the enslavement for GVVN. That took only a few minutes, and I showered with Caroline and Kim—Doctor Prince. It was close to ten when I called it a night and sat on my bed. I fell asleep sitting on the edge. I was done in.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 5th, 2007 at 10:51 am and is filed under Alternate Meat Source, Castleman Trust, Peter, White Slave Act of 2000. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.