Chapter 1

 

I awoke to find my cheek nestling on something much softer than my usual pillow. Soft and warm. I opened my eyes, slowly at first, but then wide as I realised my head was resting on the soft belly of a truly beautiful black girl who lay across the top of my bed.

Then, as the state of wakefulness replaced somnolence and I took in the rest of her body, my head jerked up in real shock. Her arms were missing! I sat up and only then found there was another beautiful and just as naked girl kneeling beside the bed with her head under its covers. Her mouth was holding my cock firmly between her lips and I was actually urinating into it!

As these startling facts engaged my mind, which was already reeling from shock, yet another girl entered the bedroom holding a tray with my early morning tea and toast. She too was naked and just as beautiful as the first two.

I groped to sit up and try and take in these startling facts and as my hands automatically reached behind me to pull up my non-existent pillow, I realised my human one had no legs. No thighs even. She was just a totally nude torso and head, although a startlingly beautiful one.

Still in a state of benumbed shock, I took the tray from the girl (whom I somehow knew to be Naomi) at which she smiled down at me then started busying herself with my clothes for the day.

I used the toast and tea to consider what was happening around me.

My name is Joe Hall and I am a successful young urologist. At least that's what I was on Earth. I found though, that I now had another identity and that I was not on Earth at all, at least not my Earth, but on its sister, one of apparently thousands of other like Earths. On this one, slavery had not been abolished in the Nineteenth Century but had flourished to the extent that the whole of black Africa was now one giant recruiting ground for professional slavers who were licensed by the UN High Commissioner for Slavery to harvest blacks and sell them all over the world.

I shook my head in awe, partly at this revelation but also because my other self's mind was now existing inside (or more properly alongside) mine. I retained my own identity but there was his, right beside mine and I was perfectly able to access his knowledge as well as my own. (I wondered briefly how he was doing in my body).

I used this time to take stock of my new situation. On this world, my qualifications were the same except that here I had used them for an even more lucrative practice than my own exclusively urological one. It seemed I was what was termed here a slave veterinary, since black slaves were not considered as human and therefore didn't merit a 'physician', or at least not one who used that title.

As I finished my toast and gulped down the last of my tea, my overnight toilet slave extricated her mouth from my cock, removed her head from under the bedclothes and now threw them back, allowing me to rise. As I did, I glanced down at my naked body and was pleased to see my other self was as fanatical about exercise and the maintenance of a good physique as I was.

At age twenty-nine, many men have begun to forget their bodies and have the beginnings of a paunch. Not me. I went to the gym regularly, played squash during the week and tennis at the weekends and I often examined myself for the development of fat very carefully. Not that it was likely, of course. I ate sparingly and properly and never indulged in more than a single glass of wine if I was going out for dinner. My other self was apparently just as careful for his body was the living image of mine.

As my valet, the beautiful Naomi, helped me to dress, I looked over the three slaves who were apparently my personal property. All were startlingly beautiful and as I thought of this fact, my other mind told me that all slaves were so, male as well as female. The slavers were careful to harvest only the best of the African stock and indeed, the various chiefs there with whom the slavers did business, were encouraged to breed the stock they were going to sell from only the best dams and sires.

My mind really reeled at this thought. It seemed Africa had been kept in a low state of development and was virtually quarantined from the rest of the world. Its people were not allowed out except as slaves and no-one without a permit from the UNHCS could get in.

I could hardly comprehend that in the Twenty-first century such repression could exist but it did - and I was a part of it. No more than everyone else of course, but as a slave veterinary, I specialised in the treatment and apparently the modification of slaves to suit their owners. My human pillow was a prime example.

I reflected on her and found that her days were spent exercising that delectable torso - and what was an apparently brilliant mind. It seemed I delighted in debating world issues with her before we both went to sleep. You are shocked? So was I - at first. But I was there; I had no idea how or why I had been transported into my alter ego's body - and I had work to do.

I dressed and then went down to my rather sparse breakfast before departing for my place of business. Now I allowed my mind to shift to the day ahead of me. I evidently owned an establishment which catered for all aspects of slavery and not just the medical side of it.

It comprised my surgery, of course, which included an operating theatre where any procedures could be performed on the slaves and where I employed two other 'veterinaries', but it also had a full-scale gymnasium where an owner could send a slave whose body needed toning; a floor where we actually kept and sold prime slaves and another sales floor where, in various departments, we stocked all manner of slave accessories.

These included disciplinary items such as whips, canes, paddles and the like; shackles and chains to keep them restrained; a department where slave chastity devices for both sexes were sold; and another where sex aids were stocked. I realised, as my mind roved over all of this, that slaves were obviously used as sexual playthings as well as for simply utile functions.

That floor also had a showroom for slave saddles and even gigs that were used to carry a master and/or a mistress around the city of Sydney. I wasn't therefore surprised to find I used such a gig to move from my house in the very fashionable suburb of Sydney's North Shore, to my practice in the nearby suburb of Neutral Bay.

My building was multi-storeyed with my offices and the surgery and operating areas on the top floor and the gymnasium on the floor below it. This was three times as high as the normal floor height. Under the gymnasium level was the show rooms: on the first floor, the display rooms of slaves on offer while the other sales areas occupied the whole of the ground floor. In the basement were cells and punishment areas for now I discovered (again by the interaction of his mind with mine) that we took in recalcitrant slaves and corrected their refractory ways.

My mind was still reeling from all this, as it had been from the moment I awoke to find my cheek nestling on the muscly belly of my pillow (whose name was Jill). Right now, though, I was about to mount my gig and once more I was in for a shock. If I had thought to find her (all my slaves were female, of course) pulling the thing by either hanging on to its handles or by a belt around her waist, I now had to think again. The reality was incredible.

There was a single pole, made of the same gleaming black-lacquered fibreglass as the rest of the gig. It went forward between her thighs and I could see one dildo going up into her rectum - and another poking up into her vagina. And that was it. There was no other harness. She was pulling that admittedly ultra-light gig by means of her anus and vagina alone!