Hampton was a large town though it did not compare in size with the capital. For its
size, I saw much activity going on as I rode toward the gate. On the left side of the
road, a long coffle of fifty or sixty slave girls waited on their knees. I glanced at
them as I rode past to see how they reacted to the situation. Not one raised her eyes to
look at me. They knelt by the side of the road with heads bowed, staring at their knees.
They were well-trained. In one of the larger cities, they would garner a high price in
the slave market. I suspected they were only passing through Hampton on their way to an
auction block elsewhere.
I glanced back at my two charges. Instead of staring straight ahead or down at their
feet as they should have, they looked at the sights on their side of the road. Their new
master or mistress was going to have to give them some severe punishment to teach them how
to behave.
Hampton had grown in size since last I had been there. As I approached the town, the
placement of buildings and the construction had me confused at first. They were moving
the city wall forward about four hundred yards down the road. This day a dozen workmen
were removing the large wooden gates from the old wall.
The brickwork to support the new gate was almost done. The gate itself was the same
size as before. I knew that when I saw a crew of workmen removing one side of the
existing wooden gate. I twisted around in the saddle to look behind me at the new gate.
The gate itself was almost ready done. A few days, a week at tops, and they would have it
in place.
They had done nothing else to secure this side of the town. A large pile of bricks told
me they were ready to start work on the new wall, but they had done nothing yet. The gate
was four hundred yards ahead of the wall. Anyone wishing to break into the city could
merely circle around the gate and go through the wall where the old gate was missing.
No wonder they had so many patrols out. Any sense of security in this town was
illusionary. A sizeable party of brigands could enter the town with ease. It had to be a
sizeable party because they still had to face the town guards.
No one challenged me as I rode toward the city gate with my two slave girls in tow. I
had nothing to worry about because I had the papers for them. As far as the whole world
was concerned, they were no different than any other slave girl in town. No one would
suspect that they were spies of the Imperial Intelligence Agency.
I was a spy too.
Our method of ferreting out secrets was to pose as slave girls. That big-chested slave
sucking on your cock – you surely can talk in front of her. With that leather slave
collar locked about her neck, she would spend most of her days with a gag in her mouth so
you had no fear she would repeat what she heard.
Little did they realize that the Agency was active in the rustling business when it came
to its agents.
Rustling – that’s right, rustling. You can’t kidnap a piece of property, you can only
rustle it.
My two charges, Shirley and Angelique were on their first mission for the Agency. The
likelihood of them successfully completing it was next to zero, but we all had to start
somewhere.
My mission was to become the property of a notorious ne’er-do-well named Barbizon. The
problem was that I had stopped him before. He knew who I was and three times had tried to
enslave me.
That was my advantage. All I had to do was cause someone to enslave me. Since Hampton
was almost in his backyard, he would find out. I was certain his efforts to make me his
property would not include anything illegal, but that was a minor point. Once I was his
slave girl, he would not be able to resist the temptation to boast to me what his new
nefarious plan was.
Once I knew it, all I had to do was wait until I was rescued.
Simple.
I had orders to take Shirley and Angelique to their contact immediately upon entering
the town. I had dallied as much as possible to delay my arrival. Their contact was Jaco
the slaver. He was one of our agents. As a self-respecting slaver, he would close his
office at the end of the workday to keep from attracting attention. He might continue to
work as a spy until the early hours of the morning, but I was certain his legitimate
office would be closed.
Slavers kept normal business hours to maintain an illusion of respectability. They might
buy a few slave girls during the day. They might sell a few. Most of their business
occurred at night when everyone’s guard was down. That was when they turned lovely young
ladies into submissive slave girls.
I went to his shop, knowing I would find the door locked.
“I guess we will just have to come back tomorrow morning,” I said aloud for my two
captives.
Keeping them in my possession delayed everything for a day. It mattered not to me. The
longer I spent in Hampton as myself, the greater the likelihood that Barbizon would learn
I was there. Delaying my mission one day only increased the prospects for success
I rode to the Imperial Hotel. It would not take long for Barbizon to find out that I
was there. Only the crème de la crème stayed there. I knew he would have spies watching
for young women to enslave. That was the first step. He had to know I was in Hampton.
Then he had to know about the fate that had befallen me.
I stopped in front of the hotel. A mistress sat in a chair next to the door while a
half a dozen little slave girls knelt submissively next to her. When I brought my mount
to a halt, I saw her turn her head to say something to them. I could not hear what it
was, but the fourth slave girl from the end bounded to her feet and moved over in front of
the mistress while facing me. Her body blocked my view of what she did, but the slave
girl’s hands came into sight.
She wore an extremely short, flared miniskirt of bright green satin. The hem was so
sort I easily saw her black satin panties. The top brought a smile to my lips. It was
made of the same bright green satin as the miniskirt. The sleeves came down to her wrists
where they ended in white lace ruffles.
Did I forget to mention that it had no front? An oval cut into the material allowed her
tits to stick through.
No wonder the Imperial Hotel was so popular.
The slave girl scampered down the steps to the street as I dismounted. She curtseyed
before taking the reins. I slowly climbed the six steps as though tired from a long ride.
This gave me the opportunity to let my eyes wander across the kneeling slave girls. They
had their knees spread far apart, giving everyone the opportunity to see their panties.
“Could you have someone take care of the cuddly things for me?”
The mistress smiled at my reference. Slave girls were good for performing menial tasks.
They were also good for objects of affection. On a cold winter’s night, it was nice to
have a warm slave girl to cuddle with. If you keep a gag in her mouth, you do not have to
concern yourself with mindless chatter.
“Just tell the desk clerk you have two. I will have them sent to the kennel.”
A slave girl soon learned that there were worse things in life than being in a kennel.
She was nothing more than an animal anyway, and calling the storage facility for slave
girls a “kennel” always put them in the right frame of mind.
A kennel referred to a small storage facility. A larger one, such as the one in
Hampton, was called “slave pens.”
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