Dark Erotic Fiction

CASTLEMAN TRUST CHAPTER 56 - CANADIAN CHRISTMAS PRESENTS

Peter J. Foster

December 24th fell on a Monday in 2001. I wanted to go to Ellisia for Christmas. I was there with a plane load of slaves. The slave work force compound had been expanded, winterized and all the other contracts had been absorbed by DEV. There was an odd incentive for the slave workers—the top worker of the week would get used by me for sex. The top worker of the month would get a weekend with me where ever I was. Stocking up on vitamins seemed like a good idea.

Speaking of having to stock up on vitamins, Ambassador Woulfe parked his wife and six daughters with me. The roster (from eldest to youngest) was:

Elizabeth (wife)

Alina (eldest daughter)

Brielle

Claire

Destiny

Evelyn

Fallyn (youngest daughter)

A federal white slaver, Mr. Mitch Herbert, the same Mr. Herbert who enslaved the First Lady almost a year ago, handed me the ownership documents.

“This is my commitment to Canada”s White Slave Act,” Ambassador Woulfe told me. I must have looked bewildered. “When we finally pass our own Act, I will request that you form a DEV Canada and transfer ownership of my wife to that organization. I love my daughters, but I”m quite content with you owning them. I can live with you owning my wife. You can”t help yourself, Peer. You will do what is best for these women.”

“Besides, Peter,” Elizabeth Woulfe said, “Look at us. What do you see? Randolf wants a son or two. If you would consent to use us, Randolf could have a grandson to carry on the name.”

“I”ve tried six times already,” Ambassador Woulfe said. “You can see the results.”

“It”s okay,” Shawna told me. “The Woulfes share our religion, Peter.”

“After they return from holiday with their families, every woman on the Embassy staff has been converted,” the ambassador told me. “You own them. We looked at setting up an American corporation or trust so that our women would be protected from your Yank enslavement laws. Canadians can”t currently own slaves—or companies that own slaves. We”re working on that. You should be getting calls from the New Zealand, Australian and British embassies after the New Year. Your Mr. Harrington is working on establishing an American trust specifically for managing non-American slaves. Canadian families who send their daughters to live, work and attend school down here have been advised to seek DEV conversions and have their daughters attend college on an education asset contract.”

“I”m not that big,” I said.

“That”s why the new trust is being formed. All Canadian citizens will have a clause that will transfer ownership to the Canadian edition of DEV as soon as the Canadian slave law passes. Oh, by the way, Canadians look down on exposing slaves in public. We have federated all of our police forces, so go ahead and expose your slaves when you like. I know that many of your slaves no longer want to wear clothes. I just had a delightfully productive appointment with your Carla to map out my daughters-er, your Canadian slaves” education. The younger ones will start attending the Susan B. Anthony School for Gifted Girls next month. Alina has already graduated and she would like to teach at Eastlake University.”

“Sir, why not simply get diplomatic immunity for your staff?”

“Not every staffer rates diplomatic immunity. My wife gave up hers in order to set the example. We won”t risk those rather brutal slave laws you yanks made up. If they are already slaves, they can”t be made slaves.”

I couldn”t put my finger on it, but something was not quite right.

“There is another reason, Peter,” Shawna added. “Master Randolf and Elizabeth share our religion. They share our belief that all women should be slaves, too. Some cultures won”t allow this—not yet.”

“So, how will this affect your political career when you become Prime Minister?” I asked.

Randolf Woulfe smiled and gazed vacantly out the window. “Prime Minister. I only hope. ”

He shook himself out of his reverie and faced me.

“I would feel much better if you were to brand or tattoo my wife and daughters and the other five staffers. If you mark them as yours, you will more likely protect them.”

“Me?”

“Canada has barely 56,000 men and women in its military establishment. We have another 18,000 Mounties. Our thin red line is really thin. You are more likely to investigate the disappearance of one of your own. Heaven help the people who hurt your charges!”

Yeah, right. As if I could do more than sue. As if I would. Using force always has consequences. What really bothered me was the probability that I would pull a Don Quixote and tilt at imaginary giants—getting tossed by windmill sails!

“I”m still young enough to have children,” Elizabeth was saying. “I”d like to have some of yours, if you would let me. I understand that this is the custom in cougar County, too—us old hags taking a young man as a lover.”

“Old hag?” I asked, looking Elizabeth right in the eye. “How old are you? I need to know because I”ll check the records.”

“38, Peter,” Randolf said. “The records will say 41, but Elizabeth is actually 38. You”ll have to take my word over the official record.”

“I”ve lied to you, too,” Shawna said. “I”m actually 13 years older than my official record. You may snuff me now, if you wish.”

“No,” I said, glancing at Shawna. “I”ll stick to the official records. Thank you for being candid.”

“You don”t believe me?” Shawna asked.

“I am so busted,” I muttered. “I don”t believe you, no. I need to act as if I do, yet I need to also pretend that the official record is correct. Elizabeth, for example, could be 38 or 38 or 41—I can”t tell. You, Shawna, could pass for late 20″s too. If you have a fountain of youth or something, we need to either share it or keep it secret.”

“Genetics, healthy living and hormone therapy,” Shawna said. “Those are our secrets. Long ago we had the ability to renew our bodies. When the world became modern, we gave it up. Too much danger of being burned at the stake for witchcraft. Right now, the easiest and safest way to get a new body is to be ritually sacrificed and born in a new body. Yes, you don”t believe that either, dear boy. It is possible to live forever. Who would want to? It is like never being able to forget anything. You have forgotten your previous lives or you couldn”t do what you must.”

Hey! This was the land of make-believe: Ellisia. I just had to willingly suspend my disbelief, enjoy myself, and remember to re-engage my disbelief at the end of my vacation. I could have punished Shawna for lying to me, but I was sure that she believed every word she told me. I”d rather have Shawna tell me what she believed than what she thought I wanted her to say.

“Facinating,” Randolf watched me closely. “I can see you thinking. I have no idea what is going on inside your mind, but I can see that you are thinking.”

“He”s always thinking,” Shawna said. “Sometimes dear Peter forgets to have fun because he is always thinking. That”s just Peter—and it suits his destiny. Peter is supposed to rule from the head and not the heart. He has us pearls to provide his heart. We just have to earn his trust—and remain trustworthy.”

That reminded me—I”d have to check my personal assets some time. I didn”t really own much—I just managed things for other people. There is the new business paradigm that your employees should be empowered so that they regard your company as their private property. I disagree—but perhaps I”m old school. I always treat borrowed property better than something I own—if I break my stuff, too bad. Breaking someone else”s stuff is breaking trust. They trusted me to return the borrowed property in the same condition that I received it in. Is the stewardship concept dead? Do you see why I have my attitude towards slavery? Especially Defensive Enslavement Volunteers—Persons of Limited Rights, or Pearls. They are loaning me themselves during their prime years. Yes, I will use them. I will give value for value, too. Perhaps they can do better for themselves as free women. Perhaps not.

“As long as you are my slaves and when you are with me, then I”ll have you follow my dress and grooming code. That means total nudity when practical, no body hair, and I”ll have to decide on a case-by-case basis on your scalp hair. Does anybody here need a slave boot camp so that you can accept being a slave? No? Good. I won”t have you shave your head. Sometimes I do that so that the woman can leave her old identity behind. Being naked all the time helps—she is either so aware of being exposed that she can”t think of anything else until she gets used to being nude, or she leaves her obsolete free-woman identity behind with her old wardrobe. There is another adjustment that you need to make—recognition that you all are no longer in control of your lives. Never were—though most people never figure out that they didn”t control their lives. That”s how many women wind up enslaved. That”s how they get into a bad slavery situation. You”ll find out that most of the family member enslavements are more or less voluntary, but those that aren”t will overwhelmingly be due to attempted manipulative activities on the part of the woman. Whining. Self-destructive behavior. Withholding sex.” I almost laughed—I had so much sex that I was hard-pressed to keep up. Fortunately, I”m not the jealous type. How can I be? She has to be happy, too. “All sorts of childishness. The woman reverts to childish when under stress because she survived that behavior in the past. Just like a lot of men revert to brutality—when they were younger, brutal spelled survival. We human animals tend to revert to what worked for us before. Well, we THINK that worked for us. More likely, we just survived our own folly and mistook the source of our own misery for a way to survive.”

“I see what you mean, Shawna,” Randolf sounded in awe. “When is he going to run for President?”

That”s all I needed—a life sentence as a politician!

“I do believe that you”ve scared the poor boy,” Shawna hugged me from behind. “Peter is not the Caesar type. He would rather someone else take the spotlight.”

Yea, verily! Look at what happened to the Caesars! Speaking of Caesars -

“Shawna, how do I screen and monitor women for the Caligula Syndrome?” I saw Randolf”s puzzlement and explained, “Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Ambassador. Sometimes I hesitate to act because I fear becoming another Emperor Caligula. He acted out of warring emotions. Caligula may have been mentally ill. I have only read what his enemies wrote, but it could happen to me. I have established checks and balances so that I don”t destroy myself. But I will depend upon women—slave women—to run DEV and other programs. I can”t be everywhere at once.”

“I don”t have a solution,” Shawna said. “You are the primary balancing agent for us. When you discover a slave abusing her power, take it from her. That is what you are supposed to do. That is also why you are going to sacrifice me. Any woman who becomes the high priestess of our order must sacrifice her life. We are only allowed a few years. We priestesses select the next high priestess, the Great Mother, and you are charged to remove her at the end of her reign. You also remove her when she commits treason against the order. That is why we are forbidding any of your sisters or children or those who you designate as wives from holding that office—it is too much to ask for you to kill a part of yourself.”

“Peter,” Elizabeth had undressed by now, “I noticed that many of your women have permanent hair removal. Would you do that to us? All of us? My daughters and me?”

“Yes, do!” Randolf said. “Like I said, I want you to mark them as your own. Doctor Prince explained to me about sheep and wolves and sheepdogs. I see. You are afraid that you will let everybody down. Let me tell you a secret, my lad. You will rise to the occasion. You can do far more than you think you can. How does a college student party all night and then go to class the next morning?”

“Mostly, they don”t,” I said.

“What? Poor example. No wonder so many of your co-eds wind up dropping out. Now they can get enslaved for that.” Randolf glanced at his daughters. “That”s why I enslaved them. Two let themselves get into a dangerous demonstration.

“No, the secret to rising to the challenge is that you must. Husbands and fathers work long and hard when they”d rather not because their wives and children depend on them. Housewives live as poorly as slaves do because their husbands and children depend on them. Soldiers shake off fear on the battlefield. Fire fighters rush into burning buildings. We do what we have to do.” Randolf looked into his wife”s eyes. “Slavery will be good for the majority of women in it because they will be forced to be better people—or they will be killed. Most owners will be decent people. Those that aren”t decent to their slaves may escape justice for a while—but that Caligula disease sounds devastating. Having the power of life and death over another changes people. I”ve been to war. I was a subaltern in Princess Pat and I saw soldiers become indifferent brutes. One thing I fear about slavery is that being able to use women for sex will destroy the capacity for love. That”s not going to be a problem for you.”

“No,” I agreed. “I have an attachment disorder. I get fond of people.”

“But Peter,” Shawna observed, “you will do what is best for people you are fond of whether they like it or not—whether they like YOU or not. That”s your nature. You won”t change.”

I wasn”t going to argue. Perhaps if I kept telling myself that I HAD to, I could. The things I did to women I could rationalize—but I did things like permanent depilation, implanting RFID”s, messing with their minds by keeping them naked -

“The park will open soon. Part of the Ellisia experience requires wearing clothes—so get into your touring costumes, ladies. You”ll lose them as soon as we return here. It is just too cold—and except on Wednesdays there is a strict dress code for plying in the park. I even have the slaves that work here wear winter coats to work. It is just too cold to bare skin today.”

It was a cold, blustery day. I had fun anyway—as always. Of course, my visit to Ellisia wasn”t all fun and games. My primary responsibility was to make sure that the slave cast and crew functioned well. Was I creating an observer effect? How would I counter that?

“Master Peter,” Fallyn asked just prior to the daily Christmas parade, “I have some friends that would like to work here. Can you help them?”

“What are you asking for?” I leaned in closer. “I can get them an interview if they meet all the requirements. Are they 18? They need to be 18 first. I want them to be high school graduates—or they can take classes until they qualify. They have to pass an audition here—and I”m not going to interfere with the audition panel”s selection process. Most of all, the female cast has to be slaves. I can send someone for an interview and audition, but it will be up to her to do well and get selected. Many very fine women don”t get picked because someone else did better.”

“I want to work here,” Fallyn said. “I know seven other girls, too. We will be 18 some day.”

“I can stack the odds in your favor,” I said, “by helping you to get ready. It begins with doing well in school. I can show you what to study to improve your chances. It will be up to you to measure up.”

“Okay.” Fallyn giggled. “I have one advantage over the other girls. I get the Best Cast/Crew prize—time with you. If I am hired here and win that prize, can I share it?”

“You can ask that another be given that prize in your place,” and actually, sometimes the winner DID get to share. Like the audition process, how they picked that week”s winner was mysterious to me. Winner? I enjoy my weekly Ellisia girl so much that I thought I consider myself to be the winner. “You have given me an idea, and I need to work on it some more. What would you like as a reward?”

“Telling me that I gave you an idea is rewarding.” Fallyn looked me over. “If I can give you enough ideas, maybe you”ll keep me?”

That evening I took a blushing cast member, the winner of that week”s Best Cast/Crew contest, to the visitor”s quarters with me. Her name was Gemma and she was very enthusiastic in bed. It was hard to let her return to work the next day. She gave me the impression that she wanted to stay with me. But there were no tears from her when she did return to work—Gemma said that she was going to work harder so that she could have a second night with me.

What a wonderful Christmas for me.