Just a Little Drink!
Slave Tracie
My name is—or was—Tracie Bothwell. I was born 23 years ago. Last week I was Reverend Jesse”s personal secretary. Yes, we were intimate. It”s a miracle that I wasn”t enslaved already, but Jesse never even mentioned it. Jesse was my life. Not only did I handle his affairs, but I was a valuable member of his staff. The Revival Bible Fundamentals Network is very much a 21st Century church. We believe in enjoying life. That includes sex and alcohol—in moderation. Jesse is so masterful that I would do anything for him. Anything. But my life is over, now.
As a hobby, I sang alto in the Revival Bible Fundamentals Network Choir. That led to my undoing. My solos intoxicated me. I already know that I”m a follower, one of the sheep. When several of the girls went out for drinks, I didn”t have it in me to refuse. We all put on bathing suits under our clothes and the five of us headed into Eastlake to bar hop. We”d be careful to stay away from slaver bars—they”re clearly marked on the outside. We were careful to get just one drink, and to drink only half of it. I lost track of the time and how many bars we went to. Yes, I got drunk. The rest of the night was like a bad dream. Some guys told us that they were cops and that we were under arrest. Don”t quote me—I”m a slave now, and I was so drunk that I peed all over myself. The next morning I was naked and in a cage by myself. That evening I was given some dog biscuits. I was hungry enough to gnaw on them. I wanted more water—one of the men used a garden hose to spray me down. He laughed at my sputtering and hosed me down some more. I lapped up the water on the floor of my cage because I was so thirsty! Then a girl came in and asked what was going on. I think she was called Crystal or Muffin or something like that. Anyway, she got me some more water and got me dried off.
A man calling himself “John” got us out of the cages and the girl Trixie or whatever helped us clean up. “John” scribbled down some notes as Trixie took some photos. He said that all five of us were prime, whatever that means. Muffy herded us back into our cages. I never knew we were wearing those horrid collars until I fell to my knees after asking Muffy when we were going to be fed. I keep calling her a girl—she was a short, skinny, cute little thing. Poor girl!
After we were left alone I tried talking to the others. Anything other than a whisper and our collars would shock all of us! I tried to talk and all five of us yelped—which shocked us and we cried and we”d get shocked -
The little girl came in again and told us that we had to be quiet. She explained about our collars. It was able to shock us by remote control. If we talked too loudly, it would shock us. If we left the garage, we”d get a strong shock—enough to knock us out, all of us. The girl demonstrated by shocking all of us.
“Your collars are set so that if one of you misbehaves, you all suffer. Tonight you are going to be visited by the Wheaton Heights Community Patrol. They are the ones who caught you tearing around the neighborhood and arrested you. Neville took your voluntary conversions.”
Traci tried to say something—we were all given another shock.
“Girls, get used to it! Your lives are in danger. Dad will have you barbecued if you don”t sell at auction this weekend. You don”t get it—you are slaves. Mr. Robinson came by and put in a meat bid on you. If you don”t sell, you will be slaughtered here and your lifeless bodies sold to the highest rated long pig BBQ place in Eastlake–Roberson’s Fine BBQ and Party Supply. If the Wheaton Heights Community Patrol can”t beat Robinson”s meat price, they can kill you without paying a meat tax and Robinson”s can buy you. All they have to do is push a switch on this collar remote and you”re all dead! I need your help to sell you for a high price. If you”d rather be meat, just give me some grief. Follow my instructions and you might be bought by a good master.” The girl”s voice dropped to a whisper. “I sold my own mother last week. She brought $3800 and I”ve seen her since the auction. Mom is working at the slave sorority house at Eastlake University. Her owner told me that Mom was going to be taking classes and working at the sorority house as house mother. The more I sell you for, the more likely your new owner will treat you well. Be glad that the minimum bid is $1000. You could wind up sold as farm labor. You could become a miner—working under conditions so bad that they won”t use a robot. It”s better that you be put down than some things that happen to slaves. How do you think they test new medicines now? Those kinds of slaves are bought for as little as possible. I haven”t seen them buy anyone for those jobs at higher than $400. Now, cooperate with me and we can get a good price for you—a good home. Otherwise, after the auction Dad will push the button and you will die.”
The little girl looked right at me and her next words chilled me to the bone.
“Don”t think that I”m a pushover just because I”m small and cute. I like watching stupid bitches writhe under the whip. I don”t hate you, but I”m jealous that you”ve got those big tits. I”m jealous that you are going to have sex. Dad promised to enslave me and sell me to Robinson”s if he ever catches me acting like a slut. I”m not going to give him that excuse. If I have to fry every one of you big titted bitches, I will. I know what can happen and I will do whatever it takes to remain a free woman. Anything!”
There were some old mattresses in a corner. Buffy brought us some tasty bread bars. The little loaves were stamped with a castle thingy—like a chess piece. They were good. I whispered my thanks as I was given another bottle of water to wash it down.
“Mistress,” I whispered, “what are these? The food we got earlier tasted like dog food.”
“Slave bars. Mom gave me a few. They are good, aren”t they?”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you. This fills me up better than the dog food.”
“Mom made them. Shelly Clark gave me a bag when she heard that I had more slaves to sell.”
Later we were let out of our cages to bathe one at a time. Terrie had us move some mattresses from a corner of the garage to the middle and tied us up. She told us that we”d be used for sex all week. The better we performed, the better we”d eat. A while later, a bunch of drunken guys had their way with us. Another girl named Connie brought blankets and put us back in our cages after untying us. She must have been a slave, too. She was naked. Connie had old welts and new and was still crying.
My other cage mates were Tracie and Josefina and Melba and Jeannie. We all looked up to Jeannie because she was our composer and choir director. Jeannie had been leading us in prayer. When we were left alone for the night, Jeannie led us through a prayer that Reverend Jesse would raise the money and bid on us. We prayed to Jesus for His mercy. It got cold in the garage lying on the concrete cage floor with just one thin blanket. I thanked the Lord for that thin little blanket.
Over the next several days we were sex tested by Melvin or Marlin—I”m really bad with names. I actually enjoyed myself. Even the pain testing was fun. Don”t get me wrong—I don”t like pain. Marvin made it fun. Connie was there all of the time and little Buffy visited us once a day. There was even a Mark East, a slaver—he looked us over. I guess he didn”t like what he saw. We ate dog food, left-overs that Connie brought us, and some of those good slave bars, but there was never enough. Jeannie led us in our prayers of thanks. Three times a day Connie took us to the bathroom. Prayers, feeding, getting fucked by the men, going to the bathroom—those were the high points in a boring existence. Finally, Zoe or Ziffy got us ready for the auction. We prepared the auction stage and we cleaned up. It was hard to get presentable with just soap and water and a shared hair brush. Connie and what”s-her-name got us cleaned up and the crowd arrived. When we were displayed at the start of the auction, I looked around for Reverend Jesse. He wasn”t there! I felt so low that I didn”t notice the start of the auction.
The good news was that nobody went to Robinson”s.
I was bought by Peter Castleman! That”s one name I remember—I catch all the reruns. I even had the unrated “too hot for TV” DVD”s. Jesus had mercy on me.
Master Peter asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. As we went to his home outside of the city, other naked slaves asked me questions. I didn”t know. My life is in Jesus” hands. Master Peter is those hands. Whatever he tells me to do.
Upon arriving at the Castleman Ranch I was medically examined, photographed, something was put in my butt so that I could be tracked and I was questioned about my past. Master Peter said that my close contact as Reverend Jesse”s personal secretary was private information—that those were not my secrets to share. Me? Secrets? I don”t know any secrets. I did get my first real meal in a week. No clothes, though. Everybody here runs around in their birthday suits—even Master Peter. I guess I can get used to being naked all the time. The Castleman Trust DVD”s showed that everyone was naked, so it wasn”t a surprise. I”m making friends. There”s somebody called Ginger—I recognize her from television, too. As for the rest, I”m going to make up a spreadsheet so that I can tell who is who. There are a lot of people here!
Oh, yeah, Master Peter is going to Ellisia. Penny, one of his slave wives, made sure that I have something to wear—Ellisia has a dress code. Clothes are required.
I do wonder what the rest of my life will be like. It isn”t bad being a slave here. I”d like to wear clothes, but that”s okay. Nobody else does around here. I don”t want to be out of place.
Jeannie told me that I should have dyed my hair blonde. I didn”t know that was a put-down until Susan told me different—I do need that spreadsheet! Susan is another slave wife.
Just think—all this occurred because of a little drink.
