Chapter 1

 

Mike ran his eye over the latest circular from the Home Secretary’s Department.  He smiled as he noted the photos.  Oh yes, he would certainly be going down to look over some of these beauties in person …

Times had changed.  No longer could a criminal expect a term in prison for his or her misdeeds.  Oh there was still a range of other penalties for lesser offences but if you erred in a big way, forget all about jail for they had been abolished, razed to the ground and the land sold.  In their place, major offenders now faced a life of slavery.  Yes, real slavery – for the rest of their lives.

Mike was reading down the latest list of female criminals.  He had studied to be a slave trainer and had held his license for eight years.  He was one of the best but any girl he bought knew she was in for a bad time of it.

He specialised in females.  Others took only males and some, a very few, took both.  Licences were not, however, restricted to males.  If you were a woman, went through the course and demonstrated you could control your slaves, you were perfectly acceptable as a trainer and many women bought exclusively males.

Of course you had to have the money to start out, or demonstrate to a bank that you could make a go of it.  It wasn’t cheap.  You had to buy or build a suitable slave barracks, train and pay your staff and then have the working capital to purchase the criminals from the state.

The system worked very well.  It actually returned a profit to the government and got rid of the criminal element from society once and for all.  It had come about after a particularly horrifying series of terrorist attacks in the United States during which public demands had tipped the government’s hand into re-establishing slavery for certain classes of crime.  And then the United Kingdom had been the victim of a similar attack after which a perfectly sane serial killer had ritually tortured and then murdered dozens of young men and women.  The calls to follow the American example had been overwhelming.

Gradually the scheme had been refined to its present state where any major offender faced a permanent loss of his or her citizenship and a life of shame, ridicule and very, very hard work; very few, if any creature comforts and no possibility of a return to his or her citizenship.  It had an immediate – and continuing - effect on the crime rate.  It slashed serious offences by half and then some, but of course there were always those who thought they could beat the system.

Mike employed some six other men, all of whom he had trained himself and were physically as fit and as muscular as he was.  All of his men were required to be able to control any female slave single-handed and without need of stunguns, whips or prodders.  Now he called for Joel, his latest man.

“We’re going down to the slave sales, Joel.  I’ll want you to bring the truck.  Be there at three, please.”

“Sure, Boss.”  The young man grinned at his employer.  For all his hard-bitten ways, the young black admired his boss very much.  He had competed with a dozen others for this job and although he knew he was well qualified for it (having successfully completed nearly half of the course for a licence of his own), he also thought his infectious smile and good looks probably had something to do with it as well.  He was almost as tall as Mike at 1.8 metres but his body was absolutely superb without being gross.

Mike drove down to the slave auction centre in the old prisoner holding area of the Old Bailey and showed his licence to the porter at the door.  Only licensees were permitted entry here.  It would be unthinkable to let the ordinary public get their hands on one of these slaves before he or she had been properly trained and conditioned to their slavery.  The process was pretty severe but it was necessary.  These men and women were at this moment still criminals.  It would take weeks, sometimes months to cow them and turn them permanently into proper slaves.  Only the skill and determination of a licensed trainer could achieve that.

Once inside he turned towards the primary display area and then into the female section.  He wasn’t interested in males unless he needed one or two as labour and at this time, with two big muscle hunks to do the heavy work back at his barracks, he didn’t need any more.

There were over a hundred and fifty females on display this morning and as Mike entered the room, he looked them over with interest.  Of course he would only bid on the best: the youngest, the better looking and those with good bodies.  This was a business and he was the best in it.  He only trained and sold the best slaves.

He smiled to himself as he thought of the ultimate fate of those he trained.  They would not be going to their owners as domestics or even as sources of simple labour.  Oh no.  His slaves were destined as sex-slaves.  The very rich and powerful among the nation’s male leaders these days now all had their own female body-slaves (most provided their wives with a male counterpart – and of course the same went for the reverse).  These slaves’ functions were to give exquisite pleasure to their owners – for as long as it was required.  The road to this goal was hard and rocky and not a few fell by the wayside to end up as drudges or muscle-slaves.  Mike still made a profit from such failures but it was a very much smaller one and in any case he didn’t like failures.

In the display room, the girls stood on small stone plinths, showing off their wares to the licensees who thronged around them.  They really were mostly girls for there were few older or even middle-aged women among the criminal classes nowadays – age brings wisdom and few older women thought they could beat the new, beefed-up methods now used by the Met. to detect major crime.

They were naked.  As soon as they had been convicted, sentenced to slavery for life and taken down to the holding area, they had been ordered to strip off their clothes; every last one of them, handing over watches and any jewellery with the last of their underwear until they were quite nude.

The guards always felt them over then, grinning lecherously at them and at each other as their big, beefy hands strayed over soft breasts pert butts and fully exposed vaginas.  No-one ever criticised them for this.  These women had lost any right to privacy or to the normal human courtesies the moment they became slaves.  The same thing happened to the men of course but there, while the guards were still big and muscular, they were also mostly gay and delighted in feeling and fondling the naked young men in their care – to their shame and chagrin.

The plinths were made of limestone and were half a metre high.  Each slave was locked to it by an ankle cuff on a very short chain attached at one side of its top and every single one of them looked somewhat dazed, as if still unaware that she was now a real-life slave, about to be auctioned to the highest bidder among these dozens of licensed slave trainers.

Mike had his program in his hand and while he checked out each of the girls as he passed down the first row of blocks, he already knew which of them he was interested in.  Number twenty-six was the first.  She was black and from her photo, had a really good body.  She had been convicted of multiple burglaries – she was a cat burglar and her body showed her fitness for this most exacting of criminal activities.

He wasn’t disappointed when he saw her in the flesh, either.  She was quite tall and superbly built with fluid muscles that bespoke a natural grace often attributed to the Negro races. Jeanne was tall and magnificently athletic but for all her young years – she was only nineteen and thus perfect for a sex-slave – her face displayed an arrogance that indicated she would need severe discipline to bring her into line.  Mike made a note to bid high on this one.

He didn’t feel her down.  He didn’t need to.  Not that it wasn’t done; many of his competitors were doing so to this so beautiful black girl but he was well aware this was as much for their own lecherous enjoyment as a real need to assess the girl’s flesh.

He moved on to his next selection.  This one was a blonde.  She had been a lady in society.  Not titled but definitely upper-class.  Alas, she thought she was immune from the new laws in her nefarious schemes to extort money by blackmailing her lovers.  She wasn’t as tall as Jeanne but her body was just as svelte if not quite as muscular.  Her name was Courtney (they didn’t use surnames here since these were lost to them at the moment of sentence) and her face was haughty.  She too would need a lot of pain to bring her into line.

The next girl was Japanese.  Her name was Alula and she was just twenty years old.  Her body was quite exquisite: slender but with beautiful curves while still being trim, taut and terrific.  She was already quite nude of hair all over her body and Mike smiled as he stared down at her beautiful pussy, the lips were not too prominent and they hid her inner charms but he knew that would be a plus for many of his clients.

The last girl on his list he rejected as soon as he saw her in the flesh.  Her photograph had not shown the coarseness of her skin and this was something he could not rectify.  He spent some more time checking out the other girls on offer but then went for a cup of coffee and a sandwich.  The actual auction would be at one and it was held in a different room in the complex.

At five to one he was sitting in a good seat near the front of the room, waiting for the chain that drew the slaves out of the holding area and into this room to start moving.  He grinned as he thought of how shameful this method of displaying them for sale was.  The chain was attached to the heavy rail that was suspended on bars from the ceiling as were carcasses in the old-fashioned butchers’ shops of the previous century.

Ah, the motor had started up and here was the first girl coming out.  She was suspended with her feet dangling a half metre above the floor.  Her wrists were encased in leather manacles that dangled from a short chain on a runner that ran along the rail.  As the motorised chain moved, it drew her and behind her, every other one of the slavegirls on offer today, out of the holding room through the aperture from the top of which dangled heavy rubber strips.  Each girl was drawn through these to begin her journey right around the four sides of the big room, only stopping when she was adjacent to the auctioneer’s podium.

The girl dangled quite forlornly, breasts flattened against her chest from her suspension, legs kicking a little, showing off her nakedness wonderfully.  Behind her, separated by three metre intervals, were the other girls on offer, all in the same order as their program number so those who wished to buy would be quite sure which one they were bidding for.

The auctioneer didn’t waste time extolling her virtues.  These men (and a few women) were all experienced slave trainers.  They had already looked over the merchandise and would be annoyed by a drawing out of the sale process.

Mike sat patiently through the first twenty-five items but he had had his eye on number twenty-six from the moment she had emerged through the aperture over there to the left and behind the auctioneer’s podium.  He had then watched as she had been dragged down his left side, stopping every three metres while the next girl in line was sold.  She would then move another three metres and so on.  He didn’t follow her while she was behind him.  He didn’t want to advertise his interest in her but when she came back into his line of sight on the right side, he kept looking at her, thinking how good a profit he might make from her body.

And what a body!  Few of his slaves thus far matched her for beauty but those muscles bespoke a great deal of sexual energy – at least after she was trained, anyway.

He didn’t bid at first.  He knew she was one of the best on offer and she would bring a good price to the Exchequer’s coffers without him pushing the price higher than necessary.  But then at the end, when the auctioneer had already knocked her down once, he topped the bid by four units – and clinched the deal for himself.  She disappeared back into the holding area to be tagged with his name and licence number and then to a cell to await collection by Joel.

They didn’t give her any clothing.  Not even a rag to cover her sex or her lovely breasts.  That was a matter entirely for her trainer.  He might allow her a modicum of covering or he might not.  In Mike’s case, not.  He kept his slaves totally nude for the whole of their training.  He felt it added to their shame and humiliation and thus aided in the conditioning process that turned them from free citizens, albeit criminal ones, into compliant and competent slavegirls.