Slavery 2030

by Mark Andrews

  It was a battle royal for her. She stood there, on the two pedals that acted as the other electrodes for the electrical circuit, allowing the shocks to travel down her thighs and legs to the soles of her feet and of course making it very difficult to make her thighs work. She did, but only by the application of every last milligram of her willpower and the sweat stood out all over her magnificent body, its muscles straining under the power of the shocks and of her own efforts to make her thighs do her bidding rather than that resulting from the electricity.

  Slowly, she forced the pedals to resume their journey round and round and round. Slowly the wheel under her began to turn again and even more slowly, the large black needle on the electronic speedo on the wall in front of her began to inch up towards the other needle, the red one that reflected the speed James had set as her goal.

  The shocks were still attacking her but they too were electronically controlled so that they diminished in strength as she neared the set speed, and correspondingly increased the more she allowed her achieved speed to drop away from that goal.

  As the shocks retreated from her body, she began to breathe more easily again and now, as the black needle reached the red one and then went past it, the electricity shut off entirely. She knew though, that if she allowed her concentration to waver again, she would be facing the same shock.

  These were designed to hurt. If she dropped even one mph below the set speed, the electricity cut in at full strength and this always caused the victim’s muscles to collapse and the wheel to thereupon stop entirely. But then, as she (or he) regained control over her mind and body and began to pedal again, so the voltage dropped proportionately. If however, she slowed down again, then the voltage didn’t cut back in at full force, but only in proportion to her deceleration.

  James didn’t stay and watch her past the first few minutes. He had other things to do but Archie and his men did. James had decreed that no slave was to be left unattended on any of the punishment items but that didn’t mean they would relent. Only if her life was threatened would they turn the machine off and then whatever was wrong with it would be fixed and she would have to face it again.

  Discipline was everything. James treated his slaves fairly, at least by the standards required of slaves and their owners, but he expected his pound of flesh and he got it. Debra sat next to Robert on the floor and stared up at the beautiful but now (after three hours of non-stop pedalling) very tired girl.

  Sandra had had a day out on the roads before this. Her body was tired and needed rest but James wasn’t giving her any. She would toil all night on this machine and although he would let her off work the next day, it was only because her body wouldn’t be capable of performing, rather than from any sympathy for her on his part.

  And all night she did toil. Archie shared the supervision with his men and as the night wore on most of the slaves seated on the floor around her dropped off, lying down in whatever position they could get comfortable in to sleep as best they could.

  But not Sandra, all night she had to keep up the pace, pedalling round and round, watching the infernal meter on the wall in front of her, ever conscious that if she let the needle drop once more, she would be in for minutes of more agony while she forced her body to start moving again.

  The next day the slaves were released from the tiny cuffs and went and bathed, ate and then went to pick up their gigs and move out on to the streets. Each was allocated an area or a particular taxi rank to begin with but after that, they could be called upon to trot anywhere in the greater London area or could be booked for a night’s excursion, perhaps taking a couple of lovers to a restaurant and waiting outside on the street, still holding the gig in the required position, until the fares had finished and then taking them home. If this was the case, James allowed them time off in lieu for he well recognised that rest was as important to them as proper food.

  But Debra and Robert didn’t like these night time excursions. By that time of night there were drunks around and as they waited outside the restaurant, they were subject to even more indecent fondling of their bodies by inebriated young bloods. And Robert was as much subject to such fingering of his muscular flesh and his genitals as Debra was...

  All this horror, shame, humiliation and dreadful toil as they had to trot and sometimes gallop through the streets of London, was made up for though by James’ indulgence in allowing them to sleep together and every night, after they had made sometimes soft, sometimes violent love together (at least on the nights they weren’t summoned to James’ bed), they talked of their future and what they were going to make of it together.

  “I don’t care what we do, Debra, as long as we do it together,” Robert whispered to her.

  “I agree. But whatever it is, it must be legal. We don’t want a return to this life and you know if we are found guilty a second time, it will be slavery for life.”

  “I know. I also know I can’t ask Father for any help...”

  “No, me neither. In fact, I don’t ever want to see either of my parents ever again. Not after what they did to me, or at least what Papa did. I know Mama only goes along with what he says but whatever the case, I have no wish to see either of them again.”

  “Okay, that being agreed, what did you have in mind?”

  “I’m not sure, Robert. Something in the physical fitness side, perhaps. After all, with what we’ve been through over the last four and a half years, we must have learned a hell of a lot about how to train the human body to be as good as ours?”

  “I’d love that. You know, I want to keep my body as good as it is now, even if it means a couple of hours every day in the gym!”

  “Me too! I haven’t spent thousands of hours getting this flesh as sleek and as supple and as strong as it is only to have it waste away by good living...”

  “You know, Debra, I don’t even crave a rich meal, nowadays. In fact, thinking about, say, Kentucky Fried Chicken makes me feel slightly ill.”

  Debra grinned for a moment but then sobered up again, kissing her man softly on his lips while her breasts - her beautifully firm but soft-as-silk mammary organs rubbed against his broad chest, thrilling him to the very core of his being. “It’s weird, isn’t it,” she said, “for so long I wanted a proper meal, a roast leg of lamb complete with roast vegetables and green peas was my craving but as I think about such a meal now, I too feel slightly queasy.” She paused a moment to kiss him even harder on his mouth and then went on. “I think I’ll probably do better than our daily porridge, but nothing too rich.”

  After that it was another round of love making. Robert mounted her as she lay on the hard slats of the only slightly larger bed than that allocated to single slaves in the other dormitory, quite unaware that James was watching them via a hidden TV camera and listening to their every word by means of the high power and intensely directional microphones that could hone in on a single utterance to the exclusion of dozens of others in a crowded room and he smiled as he thought over his plans for these two.

  In one way he was sad that their slavery to him was coming to an end. Of all the slaves he had ever owned, Debra was far and away the best female and although he had previously shunned male slaves except as necessary labour and as sexual stimulation and reward for his girls, he had come to think of Robert as not far behind her (at least as far as males went). And as slaves, he could do with them as he wished and he did, using Debra far more often for his own pleasure than any of the other girls, and lately, having her man along as well.

  At first it had been a sort of perversity to make Robert watch as he made love to her but then he had been sort-of taken by the handsome and athletic boy and had slowly drawn him into their love-making on the satin sheet on his huge bed.

  He wasn’t concerned that he was beginning to enjoy the boy’s body. He knew he hadn’t suddenly become ‘queer’. It was more a case of trying everything and
he well knew that he wouldn’t have dreamed of taking even this handsome boy without Debra as part of the scene.

  Yes, soon all that would end but he thought they might well stay on. He hoped so for he agreed with them that it would be a pity to waste all they had learned under Archie and John Wright and even Narai Ton since coming into his ownership. In the meantime he laid on his bed, watching the enormous wall screen and working the controller that allowed him to zoom in to any part of their writhing bodies, or back away to take in the whole of them.

  He found this vicarious enjoyment of sex to be nearly as good as the real thing, especially when it was being performed so frenetically by his two favourites. Of course he could turn the camera to hone in on any the other pairs of slaves in the couples dormitory, just as he could the camera in the other dorm, but not only were Robert and Debra the best looking and most athletic of his slave couples, they were also the most wonderful to watch as they made love.

  On these occasions, he often had another girl brought to him and her head enclosed in a soft leather mask that shut off her vision and hearing entirely. He didn’t want his slaves knowing that he had the ability to watch them make love. Not that he cared one whit for their feelings; just that if they had, it might have inhibited the free and abandoned nature of their sex and that was the best part of it. He knew they had all overcome the fact of their companions in the couples dormitory doing the same thing but if they had even suspected their Master was watching them, they might have been vastly more circumspect, and perhaps even foregone the love-making entirely.

  And so the girl he used to pleasure his body as he watched the action on the wall screen was blinded and made deaf by the mask and earplugs. He would lie back, naked on his bed and draw her up between his outstretched thighs. It would then be her job to suck him until he signalled her to stop. He had certain touches to her shoulders that told her to speed up or slow down and a push to the head told her to stop entirely. In this way he could watch Debra and Robert make wondrous love together while his own cock was being softly (or violently) excited by the naked slavegirl crouching between his legs.

  He spared her not a glance. The pair so realistically portrayed on the wall screen were far and away superior to this girl and although he well knew he could just as easily have had them right here on his bed, he derived a different sort of thrill by watching them perform, thinking they were out of his sight.

  Robert had adjusted fairly well to his naked exposure out on the streets of London. Even the tail poking out his rear-end and the fact that he was often excited to a raging erection by bystanders and even mischievous children who darted in under his legs and toyed with his cock until it was hard and poking up from his naked groin, had become common-place to him over the last few years but Debra never adjusted to it.

  She was always looking around her, especially when they were in the smarter streets of the West End in case one of her former school friends or those of her parents might see her in her dreadfully naked state and, with her hands up on the bar behind her neck, every single part of her lovely body openly exposed to all and sundry.

  The day when her former best friend, Penelope Jones crossed right in front of her as they pulled up at the traffic lights was the very worst in her whole life.

  “Debra!” exclaimed the society girl, her eyes raking up and down her former friend’s utterly perfect body. “Er, how, er fit you look!”

  “Um,” stuttered Debra, her face an instant violent crimson and desperately wanting to drop her hands to at least cover her breasts and vagina (but not daring to), “Uh, Penelope... Er, nice to see you, too” She didn’t mean it. She wished the earth would open up and swallow one or both of them.

  “Um, er, how long to go?” asked her friend gently. She had no wish to make things worse for Debra but she didn’t feel she could just walk on and ignore her.

  “Only a few months now... I can’t wait,” she added hurriedly.

  “No, I imagine not. Look, when you come out, if you need a place to stay for a while...?”

  “Thanks Penny. I’ll call you...”

  Just then the lights changed and Penelope had to step back out of the way. She looked after her former friend wistfully. What a body, she thought. Of course Debra had always been well built but now, phew, she didn’t think any girl in the world could be as perfect as she was - and so naked! Not even a wisp of hair down there to cover her sex. Although they had been best friends, Debra hadn’t even had an inkling that Penny had wanted her body for all those years. It was just as well she had other plans for if she had accepted Penny’s invitation who knows what she might have become involved in...

  Robert watched and listened to the exchange between them with a small smile on his face. For him, the shame of being exposed naked had long passed and he almost gloried in it now, flexing his beautiful muscles to all the better looking of the young women who passed him in the streets and even half erecting his cock to them. He had to be careful here for if he offended any of them and they made a complaint to James Hardwick, he could be in serious trouble but he got away with it by his outrageous good looks and perfect body and in fact he almost, not quite, but almost, came to enjoy his days as a taxi-slaveboy.

  Debra never did. Every day was a nightmare of shame and humiliation to her. Not physically. Her ultra-fit and exceptionally strong body was well able to do its share of the trotting and even galloping when called upon and indeed, Robert could easily have pulled the gig by himself so the actual work part of it was of little consequence and if hard pressed, she would have admitted that she did actually enjoy the work of pulling the beautiful gig.

  But mentally, she feared and loathed every minute of every hour they spent on the roads for the very reason just experienced. So far, she had been lucky. She had only been seen by Penelope Jones but in the next second, or in a day or so, any of her former friends or acquaintances might pop up right in front of her and engage her in conversation, just as Penny had. Oh damn her father! Damn him to hell and beyond, she raged to herself. If he hadn’t been so damnably hard-nosed, none of this might have happened.

  As it was, her beautifully tanned body, trotting along beside Robert’s splendid and just as tanned flesh, was on full and open display to everyone around, just as there were hundreds of other pairs of naked slaves all over the capital as well as every other city in Britain and the rest of the world.

  This penal slavery had taken off in a big way and regional governors-general and local governors were ecstatic at the two-fold benefits that had accrued from it: an instant slashing of the enormous cost of running the massive penal system; and a just as instantaneous and nearly as extensive cut-back of the crime rate.

  Everyone loved to see the naked slaves out on the streets, either as taxi-slaves or as labourers being whipped to harder and harder effort; but none wanted to be in their shoes. What about older criminals, you ask? They were still sentenced to penal slavery but were not as susceptible to naked public exposure. They were bought as farm or factory labour for the period of their sentence and while some owners, as a hobby, vied with one another to turn them back into top-rate physical specimens, and even had little competitions among themselves, showing off their male and female slaves in age brackets and even awarding prizes (to themselves) for, say a sixty-plus physical specimen.

  They even allowed the public in and these shows eventually developed into a mini-agricultural show type event with the slaves being kept in open fronted stalls, just like sheep and cattle were at real agricultural shows, and forced to pose and strut their naked bodies while the people outside in the passageways stared and ogled their flesh.

  But this didn’t apply to Debra and Robert. They were already the epitome of everything that was perfect in the new class of penal slaves. Their bodies, already in excellent shape at the moment of transmutation into slaves, were then taken and honed by the skills of Archie and his tra
iners into sheer human perfection and then exposed, first as footballers or athletics or fighting slaves, but then as human taxi-ponies. They were on more or less permanent exposure to the public, which, at least for Debra, was far worse than the fate suffered by the show slaves.

  It wasn’t for them of course for in their eyes, Debra and her ilk had time to get used to being on naked display all the time; they only had it at the shows and at other times, while kept naked, were not on show except to their owners.

  Debra, as she trotted along the streets with Robert at her side, a passenger or two in the gig behind them, could only think of her nakedness; of her body being so brazenly exposed to so many people, all day, every day. If she had been able to sublimate those thoughts as Robert had so long ago, she might have coped much better with her tribulations. As it was, every day was a nightmare for her.

  She knew one thing. No way was she ever going to break the law again, when her five years (there was no remission these days) was up and she was released. Even if she couldn’t get a job, she would live on the streets rather than steal to survive. In this sense, the system was a great success for most, if not all of those convicted and sentenced to slavery for a period, never returned to their lives of crime...

  Debra certainly wouldn’t.

  Chapter 7

  James surveyed the two slaves standing before his desk in his office with a touch of sadness. What magnificent specimens they were, he thought as his eyes raked up and down their naked and so perfect bodies: he, the epitome of the young male athlete and she no less athletic but with that athleticism coupled with a natural beauty which, together with her own ingenuousness, gave her a rare quality very seldom seen.

  He knew she had been a member of the lesser aristocracy but he thought she would have very capably graced the table of the highest duke in the land, if such titles and concepts still existed, that is.