Slave World

by Johnny Stone

  I swished my tail enthusiastically like the animal I resembled, neighing as loudly as I could, a helpless prisoner to what I was. Cirus answered me, faint and haunting, but distinctive in a way that defied human speech. He was going to breed me soon, fuck me, call it whatever you wish, and I could barely contain my burning desire for it. Goddamn this place…

  Interlude

  Michael lounged in the shade of the ground floor porch, sipping scotch on the rocks, surveying his carefully built kingdom of decadence with a sense of wary unease. Everything should be well and good in the world, but it wasn’t. Nothing was going as planned, if anything the situation was deteriorating rapidly.

  “He should be dead by now, Rupert.” Michael scowled into his drink. “I don’t understand it.” He’d given Margo clear instructions before she’d been sent back to the stables after the party several days ago; kill Nathan Burke. Thus far she’d made no attempt at completing the task.

  “The reports and statistical data did confirm her controller has a very limited range perhaps that goes for her complacent nature and obeying orders as well?”

  “I don’t like it, there’s far too many unknowns coming into play. What if the overall effects of the remote are only temporary and she becomes unstable and dangerous at some point? From the initial data and auction footage, it all seemed so perfect, so foolproof.”

  Michael closed his eyes, cock twitching with covetous want, remembering all too clearly his night alone with Margo. It had been perfect in so many ways. She was so passionate, so pliable and eager to fulfill his every twisted whim with the authenticity of blind and loving obedience. He hadn’t stopped thinking of her since that night. He shook his head in disgust; disgust at his own cowardly fear, hesitant to take liberties with his property now, because of Burke.

  “It’s very possible, sir, we have nothing to base our conclusions on. My research has turned up no other instances of an external control device being linked with a recipient of the Wolverine Combat Processor. I honestly believe she’s a one of a kind.”

  Rupert inconspicuously withdrew to a state of silent attentiveness; his employer was deep in thought with a rolling finger tap on the armrest of his chair for several long minutes.

  “It would appear that I’m going to have to be in the same room with him, when I give the order.” Michael shifted uneasily in his seat, dreading the thought of confronting Burke face to face even if it was to order his death. “I’ll just have to wait for the opportune time to present itself.”

  “It would appear that way, sir.” Rupert cleared his throat somewhat nervously. “Have you seen Torri’s latest report?”

  “Yes,” Michael scowled bitterly, “and that’s another reason why Burke needs to go, and soon. He’s disrupting all my plans at the stables; he’s out of control. Who does he think he is firing my employees, forcing them to pamper the slaves like they were no different than freemen? This is my ranch now, not his, not Donna’s, mine!” Michael slammed his glass down on the table, spilling half its contents in the process. “And the audacity of that man, barging into my office, threatening me, threatening you for that matter. What’s to stop him from doing something like that again?”

  “Nothing, sir.” Rupert’s face grew tight with the terrifying sensation of near death.

  “We’ll see about that. Contact Harry; I want two bodyguards assigned to me at all time from now on, armed guards, until Burke is properly dealt with. Make sure they know what’s expected of them, if and when the situation arises.”

  Rupert gave an evil grin of hopeful sanctification. “Gladly, sir.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Okay, Margo, time to gear up, chop-chop. Report to the corral after you’re finished,” the guard standing in my doorway said loudly, startling me from my half sleep. I moaned, pushing myself out of bed.

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied heavily, stripping off my fishnet brief and top, heading down the hall to see the fitter.

  I didn’t have any duties today, and had gotten bored with lounging about waiting to see what would happen next, while hoping that Nathan would make an unscheduled appearance. I’d decided to take a little fifteen-mile run on the treadmill for nothing else better to do, and it wore me the hell out. What time is it anyway? 1552? Great…I’d managed to get a grand total of seventeen minutes of inadequate sleep.

  The run did give me a chance to clear my head, and to stop thinking about how terrible I’d acted last night at bath time. I still don’t know what had come over me; my desires had been wild and untamed, almost bestial in a way. It felt as if I was slowly losing touch with who and what I was, and it was frightening.

  I waited patiently in the small fenced off area that was known as the corral. I wasn’t sure whom I was waiting for yet, but in the back of my mind I hoped it was Nathan, while praying it wasn’t the Master. I had my saddle on, so it probably wasn’t him. I was a bit overdressed for his needs. One of the handlers checked my gear to ensure everything was in order. It was of course.

  I turned to the sound of screeching female laughter drawing closer. It was Mistress Donna running through a mango grove at a dead sprint in my direction. I took a few steps back, eyes growing wide. She wasn’t slowing down, and for a minute I thought she was going to run headlong into the fence and knock herself out cold. At the last second, she leapt through the air with the grace of a cat, planting a hand on the top railing of the corral, effortlessly vaulting its six-foot height. Her landing was nothing short of bouncing exuberance. That kind of a jump would have been no problem for me, but for a normal person, it was pretty amazing. Beside her acrobatic skill, I did a bit of a double take from the way she was dressed, not really sure if I was supposed to laugh, be turned on, or afraid of it.

  Donna wore knee-high brown riding boots accompanied by relatively tight fitting, black leather pants that had numerous skin-revealing designs cut out of them. A white, short sleeve blouse was tucked into it, enhancing her hourglass figure all the more. She wasn’t wearing a bra or support of any kind either, just letting her breasts bounce heavy and free, nipples flaring beneath her shirt. Her outfit was topped by a wide brimmed, cream colored cowboy hat with her hair tied back in a tail behind it.

  What really gave me pause for concern was the presence of a double holster holding a Nagutchi 3 laser on one side, and a 10mm rocket pistol on the other. They both rode low on her legs and were strapped in place by buckle clamps below mid thigh. Both weapons looked immaculate and very expensive. Those things weren’t toys, and I was surprised she was even allowed to carry them, given her mental condition.

  Hmmm…The corner of my upper lip curled in an errant thought. I couldn’t imagine why she carried two different types of weapons; most people that preferred multiple sidearm’s, did so as a pair from a matching set. I’d heard arguments go on for hours about the pros and cons of lasers, or ‘heaters’, as they’re commonly called, compared to standard projectile, or magnetically accelerated gauss weapons. In the end it all came down to power requirements and personal preference. One thing’s certain, if a heat-amplified beam from a laser hits you, and you don’t have a defensive screen or armor on, you might as well kiss your ass goodbye. That is, if there’s anything left of it to kiss in the first place. I guess it’s no worse than having a fist sized hole blown through both sides of your chest from a rocket pistol; dead is still dead, either way you look at it.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Savota. Your pony’s ready.”

  “Yea! Let’s go, Margo pony, let’s go for a ride!” Sure, sounds fun to me. Better than getting beat to a horny pulp by the Master any day of the week.

  The handler led me out of the corral and my reins we’re passed off to Donna. I immediately knelt and she jumped heavily into the saddle, causing my shoulders to flex.

  “Let’s go for a ride, Margo, giddy-up!”

  I was prompted to my feet with a tap from her crop, and instantly spurred into a run, with Donna whooping and hollering like a bansh
ee behind me. I wasn’t enjoying myself like I did with Nathan, but I whinnied loudly and continued to pick up speed, clearing my mind of everything except being a pony, and serving my Mistress. She may be Nathan’s sister, but in the end I was her slave. I could never forget that.

  Donna pushed me hard, harder than Nathan ever had, and I quickly worked up a sweat in the oppressive heat during our little jaunt around the ranch. She would laugh and call out from time to time, waving at some of the guards or staff whenever we passed them. I hardly took notice of my surroundings, staring straight ahead with dull eyes from between my blinders, except when we passed a group of slaves replacing a large, fresh water well pump, under the direction of an Overseer.

  They were covered in mud, sloshing and struggling through the calf-deep muck, physically manhandling the massive pump out of the ground. The Trusk, Chuck, I’d arrived with was among them. Why in the hell aren’t they using a crane or a construction bot for that? It would have been a hell of a lot easier. The entire group paused, looking in our direction when Donna yelled out to the Overseer.

  “Hi, Mr. Whittiker!”

  He scowled back from under thick, bushy eyebrows, throwing an annoyed wave in return. I had hopes that Chuck might show some sign of recognition when I looked directly at him, a silent hello maybe. He didn’t, of course; I wasn’t the same person that he’d met before.

  “What the hell are you gawking at, get back to work! Heave! Put your backs into it you bloody wogs,” the Overseer shouted with a thick accent and the crack of a whip. He was actually whipping them? The twenty-foot pump teetered precariously in the air, wobbling ominously before it toppled out of control, crashing to the ground, showering the entire group in a wave of muddy filth.

  “You clumsy fools! You’re all a bunch of worthless…” Crack! I hate this goddamn place.

  I ran and ran, slipping further into a state of mind-numbing thralldom. I felt like there was no me any longer, only a creature created for unquestioning service. I was tired, and despite the growing heat that shimmered from my glistening skin, I knew I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop because the Mistress didn’t want to. I continued to run, regardless of what it was doing to me.

  After an eternity, Donna slowed my pace under a canopy of trees near a large swimming pool. I knelt, beads of sweat dripping from my brow, running down the bridge of my nose. If I cared enough to pay attention, I would have said the pool was quite beautiful, built to mimic a wild and rocky natural pond nestled among the jungle foliage, and scattering array of colorful tropical flowers.

  “That was fun, Margo, you’re the best pony I’ve ever had!” Donna swung her arms in the air, hopping over to a wooden shelf built into the side of a large tree. “I’m hot; I’m going for a swim, naked and everything.”

  I felt nauseous and dizzy, panting back at her wearily. She tore at her clothes, flinging them about in a crazed display of innocent recklessness. Her holster, slave control band and wrist-com went on the shelf.

  I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I felt like…I was… going… to…

  “Mistress…I need…” I doubled over trying to vomit, dry heaving instead. My head felt like it was going to explode.

  “Pony, what’s wrong, are you sick?” Donna was at my side with a dumfounded look.

  “Thirsty… so thirsty,” I croaked, fighting the cramps that had my stomach and sides tied in torturous knots. Donna’s expression went suddenly blank, and her eyes seemed to change, coming into focus, becoming harder.

  “You have heat exhaustion, Margo; let me get this gear off you.”

  I nodded weakly, surrendering to her hands as the saddle and brutally hot leather was stripped from my body. It felt like a slice of heaven had descended upon my steaming flesh in the form of a cool, refreshing breeze.

  “You should have said something sooner.” This wasn’t like Donna at all. Her voice had changed; she was in control and sure of herself. She reminded me of Nathan now. “Here let me help you; I’m going to get you in the pool, your core body temp is too high, you’re burning up.” Yes, I felt like I was on fire.

  Donna guided me into the water, easing me onto a small ledge seat, until I was submerged from the waist down. The cool water felt like pinprick icicles ripping me apart. I started to shiver with convolution like tremors.

  “Just relax,” Donna said softly, stroking my matted hair. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get you some water. I wish I had a damn porta-doc with me,” she mumbled, vaulting from the pool in a cascading shower. All I could do was nod again, confused, but thankful for her strange behavior.

  Donna touched a knot on the tree next to the shelf, and part of the trunk swung open. It revealed a freezer compartment amid a swirl of frosty, white mist. She took a clear, liter-sized container from it, slipping back in the water beside me.

  “Here, drink slowly, just little sips.” I nodded wearily, letting the water trickle icy rivers down my throat. It was wonderfully revitalizing even though my stomach cramped in protest from it. Donna turned me partially to the side, and began rubbing me down with handfuls of water over the next ten minutes.

  I leaned against a large rock lowering myself further into the artificial pool. Oh yeah, I could get used to this. I studied Donna more closely now that my mind started to clear. She was stretched out, reclining like a cat, staring at the water quietly as if daydreaming. It was hard to tell until she was naked, but Donna was in excellent shape with toned, well-defined muscles that gave her a sleek, predatory appearance. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but the way she’d moved earlier had been effortlessly fluid and sure for someone that was supposedly brain damaged.

  Then I noticed something that made me stare at her in blank recognition. Donna was wearing a narrow, light brown waistband with garter straps that ran down her hips, ending around her thighs. On the inside of one, tucked up close to her groin was a small sheath with a beryllium plated body knife, and on the other side, lower and just above her knee, was a concealable 2mm-palm pistol.

  My first thought was how the hell she’d managed to hide them under her pants, and the second was what she was doing with them in the first place? Both were designed to avoid detection, even by some of the more advanced scanners in use. They were silent and deadly weapons; they were weapons made for an assassin.

  I looked up, and Donna was staring at me through the heavy slits of her eyelids. Her overall expression made me feel like I was looking down the barrel of a gun.

  “Is something wrong, Margo?” I quickly looked away, wringing my hands together under the water with idle nervousness.

  “No, Mistress.” Her gaze lingered a few moments, dissecting me as easily as a laser scalpel.

  “This used to be mine and Nathan’s favorite spot to come and swim when we were younger. We’d spend hours here together,” she said trance-like, staring at the water, lost in time, “just talking or lounging about. It’s a very special place; it holds a lot of memories for the both of us.”

  “It’s very nice, Mistress.” I knew exactly what she meant. The peaceful quiet of the jungle, and intermittent sounds of paradise birds, were my only companions. I could have easily fallen asleep in minutes.

  “Did you know,” Donna began wily, “that Nathan lost his virginity very close to the spot you’re sitting? So did I, as a matter of fact.” Oh please…Don’t tell me that they…

  Donna must have seen my thoughts, reflected in the growing shock staring back at her. She gave a soft snort, with the shake of her head. “No, Margo, it’s not like that. I love my brother, but I don’t love him.”

  Thank God…

  “I was eighteen, and he was a slave I purchased in Port City with my allowance. Of course we had house slaves before that, and several nannies, but he was the first slave I could call mine. His name was Seth, and there was nothing special about him, other than I’d thought he was cute at the time. I’ve slept with lots of slaves over the years, and just as many freeme
n, but Seth was my first, and I’ll never forget him.”

  For whatever reason, Donna had decided to take a meandering stroll down memory lane, and I was content to let her idle away the time, while I half listened in a state of spreading relaxation. I have to say this was another one of those really weird moments for me, as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Was she just pretending to be simpleminded all this time? No, she couldn’t hide something like that from Nathan for all these years, could she? What’s more, why would she act like that if she really weren’t? Once again, questions with no answers.

  “I didn’t love Seth; my feelings for him were no more than any young woman’s for the first slave that they’d slept with, I suppose. I did care for him though, and he looked after my personal needs for many years. Of course Nathan never wanted a slave, in any sense of the word.” At the mention of Nathan’s name, my ears twitched, rotating slighting in her direction. “He was always so different, really quiet and shy, especially around women. It was almost impossible for the slaves to bath him when he was child; I knew they dreaded those times, but of course they would never dare voice it out loud. Nathan never did learn to appreciate the simple pleasures in life that come with being served; he always wanted to do everything for himself.” Good for you, Nathan…

  “He never seemed to fit in with the normal boys his age either. He never wanted a slave while growing up, and never showed much interest, at least openly at first, in any of the girls that were available to him on the ranch. Dad was actually worried he might be gay.” I choked down a barking laugh. Trust me on this one, Nathan isn’t gay, not by a long shot.