THE STORY SO FAR
On her eighteenth birthday Angel is visited
by slavers from the future, loses her virginity and is taken by time machine to
Earth's distant past when life only existed in the sea and where slave-girls
have been forced to work and serve Masters and Mistresses for almost a thousand
years. She is injected with a drug which
makes her immortal, never to grow old or lose her beauty and so begins her new
life as a slave. Broken and trained as a
pleasure slave, she is sold at auction to a cruel Mistress who sends her on a
thousand day forced march across the desert, to spend two years in a steel
slave box under the desert sun and then work in a dockside slave brothel. After
forty seven years service her Mistress sends an order
to sell her.
NOTE:
On this Earth the days are broken into twenty hours and the year is four
hundred days long, due to the globe spinning faster then
than it does in the twenty-first century.
The sun is also slightly cooler and most free people live in the tropics
with their slaves.
One:
GALLEY SLAVE
After serving forty two years in the slave
brothel, Angel received a new brand on her thigh, indicating that she had
served over a million Masters and more than twenty thousand Mistresses. When her sentence was completed, a letter was
despatched to her Mistress, asking what her plans were for Angel's
'disposal.'
It took five years for the reply to come
back, five long years in which Angel was kept at work, earning money for the
brothel, half of which was sent to her Mistress. Slave-girls worked without pay
and were cheap to feed, the nutritious but unpalatable cereal and vegetable
paste was grown by slave-girls who also toiled without pay. Any abducted girl
addicted to tobacco, alcohol or drugs suffered 'cold turkey'; the Masters did
not permit slave-girls such luxuries.
When
the Mistress's reply finally arrived, Angel was two hours into her sixty hour
'day'. Slave-girls were worked hard by
the sailors and townspeople and often served as many as three hundred men in a
sixty hour period, often in groups up to fifteen or more.
The
Brothel Master posted a notice on his front door that the slave-girl 555,
'Imp', would be leaving at the end of her current 'day' of service. Angel was not informed of this but she
noticed that suddenly her number, 888, was appearing on the blackboard more
often than usual, the Masters summoning her to serve their tables and then
attend to their lusts. She was in such
demand that she served without a break for over a hundred hours. By the end of eighty hours she was completely
exhausted and the men were passing her round like a rag doll, penetrating her
in the most convenient orifice available as she moaned and begged for
rest.
She was finally returned to her bed and
permitted to sleep for ten hours, the longest rest she had taken in forty-seven
years.
When she awoke, the Brothel Master, an ugly,
callous man, informed her that her Mistress had ordered her to be sold. He took
a small gold ring out of his pocket and with a punch made a hole in her left
ear. Every year he had placed a new
earring in her and now almost fifty rings sparkled in her lobes and all around
the circumference of both ears. He
washed the wound with spirit, drawing a scream from Angel.
"Now, now, Angel," he said, "don't make a fuss."
Clipping a chain to her clitoral ring he led
her to the dockside where a slave dealer traded in a small square close to the
harbour wall.
The Slaver took charge of Angel. "What's her name?" he enquired.
"Her Mistress calls her Angel, but we
have been calling her Imp."
"I will call her Angel, then, a pretty
name will increase her value."
The Brothel Master departed and the Slaver
brushed Angel's long, auburn hair straight and plaited it into a long
braid. Angel's hair had not been cut
since her abduction, it had been trimmed occasionally to tidy the ends and her
hair fell to the backs of her knees. He
tied her hands high up her back, fastening her elbows together below her
hands. Angel moaned from the pain and
her eyes filled with tears. She was led
to the front of the slave shop where several girls were already on display
under the bright sun, her ankles were fastened wide apart to rings set into the
hot concrete floor and her braided hair was tied to a beam above her head so
tightly that she was obliged to stand upright and almost on her toes.
Standing there, naked, the sun glinting on
her golden collar and the rings in her ears, nipples, labia and clitoris, Angel
was displayed to the passing crowds. She
still wore the collar of her Mistress, it would only
be replaced by the person who purchased her.
The Mistress's name was on her collar, but even if Angel could have seen
it she could not read it - slave-girls were kept illiterate on this world,
where even the language was unlike any twenty-first century language - so she
would never know the name of the woman who had bought her. This woman had been
responsible for Angel's breasts being tattooed with black haloes and vermilion
nipples, for the hummingbird tattoo on her thigh, its long beak seeming to sip
nectar from the flower of her sex and who had ordered a long string of gold
beads to be inserted under the flesh of her vagina and anus, running from her
cervix to deep in her bottom. It had caused a certain
amount of irritation but gave great pleasure to Masters, as did the three gold
studs in her tongue. This unusual
'necklace' had made Angel very popular in the slave brothel, despite the fact
that she was not as beautiful as most of the slave-girls.
There had been a number of passion slaves
serving in the brothel, they were expensive creatures but some Masters liked to
see their passion slaves work in a common brothel
where they could be used by any Master who bought a drink or a meal. Passion slaves had been specially trained,
sometimes for years, and had a certain aura about them that Angel had tried to
emulate without success.
The Mistress had spoken only sixteen words to
Angel, before sending her away on 'The March to Hell', having witnessed Angel's
party dress, her beloved teddy bear, favourite clothes and books, love letters
and even her eighteenth birthday cards, including one from her true love Steve,
to whom she had intended to surrender her virginity after her birthday party,
thrown into a bowl of red hot charcoal, the last vestiges of her former, comfortable
life gone forever. She had never seen
her original Master or knew his name, slave-girls were
really kept in ignorance on this harsh world.
As Angel stood on display a Master approached
her and inserted two thick fingers knuckle deep into her vagina. This was done to slave-girls in order to
humiliate them. She was well used to men
handling every part of her body but she still felt humiliated when she was
penetrated by a stranger, a Master who could, in a moment, own her. He continued to fondle her for a few minutes,
inspecting the bruises on her body, marks that she wore almost constantly,
thanks to the rough handling she had suffered in the slave brothel, then moved
on to another of the Slaver's wares. The
Slaver remained sitting in the shadows until the Master spent more than five
minutes with a very petite Oriental girl.
"Do you find this slave of
interest?" asked the Slaver, approaching the man.
"Just browsing, if you don't mind,"
the Master replied.
"Not
at all, you won't wear her out."
The Master walked on after a while, the
Slaver had retreated to the shade again; it was now quite hot in the sun. Opposite the Slaver's establishment was a
cafe with tables in the open, shaded with large umbrellas. Angel's eyes strayed across to the people who
were drinking small cups of strong coffee.
She stiffened when she realised that a woman was looking at her with a
sardonic expression. Angel recognised
the woman; Mistress Celia, the owner of the school where she had been trained
so long ago. At her feet a naked
slave-girl knelt, head down. Mistress
Celia continued drinking her coffee and eyeing Angel up and down. Angel dared not move her eyes from the woman. When she had finished her drink she spoke to
the nude slave-girl serving the tables and a wooden bowl filled with water was
placed between her slave's knees.
Mistress Celia waited for a few minutes then clicked her fingers and the
slave-girl bent down and greedily lapped the water up. After paying for the coffee the Mistress
clipped a chain lead to her slave's clitoris ring and walked across to
Angel. The slave-girl walked at the heel
of the Mistress, the lead pulled tight, stretching her clitoris, which was
added to by a brass weight attached to the clit ring. Her ankles were separated by a steel hobble
bar, six inches long which permitted her a shuffle of a few inches at a time
and she had to move quickly to keep up with her Mistress's long stride.
Angel recognised the slave-girl,
it was Chloe, the girl who had taught Angel the language of this world. Chloe was the first slave she had made love
to and Angel had cared deeply for her when at the school. The tiny scrap of silk, transparent and
barely covering her sex, that Chloe had proudly worn
so long ago had gone, probably as punishment for some trivial fault.
"Well, well, if it isn't little
Angel," Mistress Celia said, "how nice to see you." She stroked Angel's face and looked into her
deep green eyes, "What have you been up to?"
She bent down to look at Angel's thigh. A slave-girl's history could be read from the
brands and tattoos placed on the inner side of her right thigh. At the top was her personal number, with the
prefix which indicated whether she was a virgin when abducted or a slave bred
on this world. Angel's number was V48,673,981, indicating the number of slave-girls living in
this world at the time of her arrival, the V confirming that she had been a
virgin when enslaved. Below this was a
tattoo indicating the year when she arrived, 932F - nine hundred and thirty two
years since the Founding, when the first Masters entered this time zone - and
Angel's age when she was made immortal, 18.
Below this were the marks, in one inch
squares, three squares in a line leading down her thigh, of her first Master,
the Master who had taken her virginity, the Master who had delivered her first
flogging, the Bullie's Institute mark - the men who
had broken her to slavery - the mark of Mistress Celia's school, her Mistress's
mark, those which testified that she had made 'The March to Hell', and had
spent time in a slave box. Finally there was her brothel girl mark with the one
million men marker, the first and last marks branded on her thigh, the others
were tattoos. Many of these marks had
first been put on her flesh with a branding iron, but when they had faded,
after two years or so - even brands and tattoos faded in a thousand days, due
to the immortality drugs - they were replaced with tattoos which were less
damaging to her flesh. Even so her
personal number and first and last Master's marks were still branded into her
flesh and re-marked every two years.
"You have been a busy girl,"
Mistress Celia said. She handled Angel
intimately for a little while, remarking that she was improved now that her
body hair had been permanently removed, then gave her slave-girl permission to
kiss Angel. Chloe kissed Angel's pudenda
then thrust her tongue deep into her vagina.
Angel quickly became aroused.