The 150th Slave Pt. 09: Alternative Ending

Alternative Ending - Part Nine -

It is five years after I became the 150th slave. Now in my late 30s my circumstances have changed a great deal over time. Much of what has happened has been fun and good. Much is pretty grim.

ON BEING A BOLRIAN SEX SLAVE

I will admit that I may have focused on too much on myself before I became a slave. Some readers may feel I suffered a terrible fate and others that I got off easy. Addressing the former first, no, my fate is not terrible. Svetlana and others are quick to point out that my sufferings are not comparable to those of many others or maybe even to those of an ordinary woman living in poverty in much of the world.

I played and lost. The result was loss of freedom, pain, and humiliation. But something in my head craved pain, humiliation and submission within certain limits. The BLC has taken me past those limits but has been very careful not to cause me to suffer so much that I cannot handle it. It allows me fun, intellectual stimulation, luxury and comfort to prevent despair and long term depression. I'm happier than I was most of the time before I became a sex slave. For that matter, I have not even left the lawfirm and only about 15 percent of the firm's partners and 5 % of the staff know that I've been available to have hot wax dripped on my breasts, electro-shocks administered to my pussy and triple penetration.

I have to have a lot of sex with people with whom I would not have chosen to go to bed if invited to do so at a Manhattan pick up bar. My choices in the bars, though, were not always so great. A lot of the sex I have had as a slave has been super. I have gotten good at pleasing myself while pleasing others. Practice makes perfect.

A number of the slaves admit that they are probably better off where they are. Crystal has said that despite how it may have looked, she did not set out to become a sex slave. "I wanted to flirt with danger forever without falling. I knew what losing would look like. Obviously some part of me thought it was ok, even though I realized that it might lead me to giving pleasure to a lot of jerks. Most of the sex work gives me pleasure. I am tired of apologizing to the world and myself for being the way I am. Becoming a sex slave is healthier than many things I did in Texas and Mexico."

It gripes me sometimes that Ferguson, Walker and Anderson seem to have gotten what they wanted despite being such bastards and they got what they wanted at our expense. Crystal tells me to grow up. "Life isn't Hollywood or Bollywood. The bad guys often win. And, anyway, except for Walker who just wants to abuse and fuck, they did not get what they wanted. Ferguson and Anderson wanted beautiful, smart women who would worship them. What they got is beautiful, smart, women that they can rent for a great night for a handsome fee."

To those who think I got off easy, I would ask you to imagine having your lovers scheduled by a corporation seeking to maximize profits. I still cannot get over looking at my brand in the mirror and knowing that I don't belong to me.

It may sound funny but one of the restrictions I hate the worst is that I constantly have to keep up my health and beauty. The exercise is not so bad but at the resort I am given exactly the right number of calories to eat. I am required to clean my plate. I can't have seconds, ever. I'd so like to get smashed sometime or do a few lines of coke. Nothing like that is allowed to the slaves at the Resort. A little wine is allowed for celebrations or to have with a visitor, but that's it.

Even when away, I am required to watch my diet and to resist efforts by customers to get me drunk or high. I won't say that those rules are followed 100%, but customers are told that causing a slave to eat or drink too much or take any drug is a form of damaging the property that the BLC will not tolerate. The frequent medical tests and interviews after every trip assure that I am going to stay fit as a fiddle, firm and soft in just the right amounts whether I want to or not.

The pain slave aspect has been very hard on many days. In addition to people who want to take pleasure in hurting me, the BLC has taken contracts for us to serve as artwork or extras in plays or movies. I had to lie naked in a very uncomfortable and exposed position on stage as a "dead" body for 20 minutes after being raped and murdered in one theatrical production. Two actors engaged in a dialog over fate and death while waiting for the police to arrive to photograph and remove the body. Extending the sick fun further, I was used for sex acts at the cast party with instructions to act as dead as possible. In the end, I was told to come back to life so I could perform fellatio on a few actors.

In a fancy art studio in Milan, I was placed face up on a large, heavy piece of glass. Another piece of clear glass was lowered down onto me suspended from the ceiling so that it just barely pressed my breasts. There was a hole in the upper plate of glass for my head and a carnation was stuck between my teeth as a table decoration. People had dinner on the glass plate above me for a half hour or so. Although there was no weight on me, it was horrible barely being able to move so long. It helped only a little bit that Sofia was one of the guests, there mainly to make sure that the equipment suspending the glass was secure.

This dinner was for an avant-garde movie symbolically showing the bourgeois oppressing the people. The director did not see or did not care that the filming of the movie was oppressing me. Maybe he knew my past and thought I deserved it. Maybe I did deserve it in some sense but I think it went too far. But again, my opinion on how I should be treated has never counted for much unless Sofia or someone else in BLC management decides their property is at risk of injury.

Sometimes the torture sessions were so severe that I almost hoped that Sofia and her staff would let them kill me. I never felt that way for more than a few seconds, though. I love life.

The pain and humiliation can be good. It can be way beyond what I like. Then the yo-yo is pulled back. After a session I can barely stand, they treat me like a princess. Svetlana is always full of praise for my looks and brains when I see her and even suggests that I might replace her as president of the BLC someday. Sofia is constantly reassuring. She says that she is sometimes unsure whether we are the slaves or she is. Despite some nasty scars, Sofia is an attractive woman. Sofia says that she wishes she had been a little more attractive so that she could have been in the lottery. Sometimes I believe her.

Irina's analogy at the party two years or so ago was pretty much right. The BLC needs us to stay as captured princesses. They can't let us be worn down physically or mentally or we become just ordinary humans or animals being abused. There isn't enough of a market to make real money off that. You can find a junkie or a puppy to torture for a lot less than 20K per evening. The BLC also can't allow us to become numb to the pain, physical or mental. That requires that the nerves be allowed to grow back and the pride restored so that we can be deprived of those things again for someone's pleasure. We have to be strong so that we can be torn down. The more a woman has been made into a soulless object, the less one can feel powerful in lording over her.

There are a lot of paradoxes here. Some of these probably apply to real estate attorneys and PTA mothers in New Jersey as well as sex slaves in Bolry. I will never know. You can only lead one life. Social and economic pressures, my strange inclinations and the Lottery Machine have chosen my life for me.

SERVING THE STATE

Crystal, Irina, Chiara, and I have become successful in our nominal careers. When we are in New York, we are treated like lawyers. Those who know we are sex slaves are careful not to do anything that could be interpreted as sexual harassment when we are at the office. It is another matter when we are outside the office environment.

Our real careers have been to be a sex slave. That is changing over time.

Increasingly, I have practiced law and not just for the BLC. Svetlana has always maintained that, as profitable as I am as a slave, the BLC is willing to keep me sharp as a lawyer. I have an quasi-official role in Bolry as a deputy to the Bolrian foreign ministry, a consultant to their legal department and general counsel to the BLC. During the period that the contracts involving the new casino on the sea were developed, I was working more in a seat than in a bed for the first time in years. I have advised the Bolry equivalent of the Department of Justice and I am proud to say that we have improved the Bolry police's handling of rape victims, not including rapes by the BSP, and eliminated torture of ordinary criminals. People thought to be threats to the state naturally still go to the BSP. I have no influence there.

Crystal has represented Bolry in various trade missions. The BLC has arranged for her to spend hours in the evening in a prone position after having to spend the day at a negotiating table. Lermanov says she's the only person he has who can understand the petroleum and natural gas futures market and pipeline economics. "If she'd not hedged gas prices with future contracts, we'd really be in trouble." Svetlana says she is a gold mine for the Bolrian Lottery Corporation.

Irina has practically become Pyotr Tolski's special foreign affairs representative (double entendre intended). She gets to New York to attend meetings of the United Nations about as much I get to the city.

The BLC relishes situations in which they can have Irina, Crystal, Chiara and I representing Bolry in some diplomatic or trade matter during the day and book us for some orgy that night. I initially thought it a sort of questionable move when they scheduled us to be screwing the same guys in the evening with whom we were negotiating during the day, but Lermanov thought it gave Bolry a lot more leverage over the other side than it gave them leverage over Bolry. "Everyone in the world in power knows that Bolry has the greatest brothel operation in the world. Not everyone knows that the guys with whom you are negotiating patronize our brothel. If they are so smitten with your charms during the day that they are willing to pay for your services at night, seems it only helps us."

Although we work more with Lermanov, Crystal and I see Pyotr every few months, always with us dressed for government business. He refers to Crystal and me as "the daughters he deserved, but fortunately did not get." He has three daughters who are reportedly very sweet women and girls. He jokes that Irina is the daughter Orsinov deserved and did get.

Both Pytor and Lermanov have made at least a show of being concerned about my welfare. I mentioned to them both confidentially in bars or hotel reception rooms after state meetings that I was afraid of what would happen when I grew older. They both nodded sympathetically but I did not kid myself. They are both very good manipulators and nod sympathetically to everyone when the occasion requires appearing sympathetic.

Two and half years ago, sitting in the lounge of the new luxury hotel that had been built in the Capital, I met with Svetlana mainly to relax after a long meeting with some visiting textile merchants. Bolry tries to develop many businesses. We saw Bolry could profitably export hand-woven rugs with so many of the traditional rug making centers engaged in civil wars or subject to export restrictions. After joking that rug merchants deserve their reputation for glib salesmanship and sharp dealing, I asked off hand whether the BLC had given any more thought with what it would do with slaves over time. "I mean, Svetlana, do you expect you'll fetch five figures a night by selling my ass when I'm 64?" I joked.

Playing her cards less close to the vest than usual, Svetlana said, "Laurel, that is all still a matter for discussion and I'm not going to tell you anything. But you are very smart, do you think you are likely to die a slave in Bolry."

"No," I replied, "for two reasons." "Let me guess," Svetlana said, "you think that Bolry could well explode. That's what the CIA thinks. I'm sure you have observed the helicopter pad that slave sponsors insisted be built to get you ladies out quickly if Pyotr, Lermanov, and I are killed or have to flee. Well, I think Pyotr and his friends and sister will run Bolry for decades. It is possible you could get out of slavery if the government collapses but, if the government collapses, I think the sex slaves are most likely to be taken to the Pacific Resort. As you probably figured out, having an escape hatch is a big part of why we expanded there." I had figured that out.

"That's not what I was mainly thinking," I said, "I was thinking mainly that the BLC slaves are, to put it bluntly, wasting assets. While you are quite beautiful in your mid 40s and the BLC spends a lot to keep us all attractive, there is no way the BLC is going to be able to charge as much for a 46 year old as a 36 year old. Men are just not intelligent enough to appreciate experience enough to pay for it and overlook the wrinkles and sags. The BLC would be best off if it could move women out before they depreciate and start having increased medical problems. I figure you are making in the ballpark of $6-7 million a year off me and I am worth something like $50 million to the BLC as a sex slave if you work me for 15 years adjusting for present values of a future income stream. If you could move me when my value is starting to decrease, the BLC could free up space at the Resort, reduce potential liabilities and increase cash flow."

"Laurel, you are very smart. Someone might even think you thought of the wasting asset problem all along. Someone might even think that maybe you even thought that by being so valuable in ways other than sex from the first minute that you set foot in Bolry and continuing to the present, you had contingency plans. Certainly, you knew and were not bashful about reminding me that a valuable slave can always exert some influence if she is willing to die. Of course, a very valuable and skillful slave need not even threaten to commit suicide. It is enough to show that one might not exercise ones skills to the maximum. A highly valuable slave will have to be allowed much of what she wants in life no matter what the power relationship is on paper. Someone might even think that you suspect your former law firm made some deals in addition to the ones you were told about before you participated." I did harbor such suspicions. "Someone might think you've continued to pull tricks every time you could," Svetlana concluded. No, far from every time.

MUCH MORE GRIEF

It's was unfortunate Crystal did not like the type of pain that comes from childbirth because Anderson decided it was so much fun the first time that he got Crystal pregnant again. Again, I conceived at about the same time as Crystal. The circumstances of my second impregnation, though, were far worse than Crystal's.

Shortly, after giving me the talk about how valuable slaves have power, Svetlana demonstrated the limits of that power by forcing me into a situation that she knew I would hate. She let Sofia break the news.

"I don't know a good way to tell you this Laurel, but you, Margaret, Jenny and Sheila are going to northern Canada to be impregnated by a couple billionaire religious cult figures and their sons. It seems they each have multiple wives but they say they want to have children at a faster rate than they are having them without having to bring more woman permanently to their colony on the edge of nowhere. They say they don't believe in artificial anything or anything else that is not in the Bible and they are following Old Testament practices endorsed by God for Abraham and King Solomon. They don't want to risk committing too much inbreeding and want fresh women. I think, though, they are mainly attracted by the idea of forcing Texas trophy wives, an uppity New York lawyer and an Australian rich girl to carry their children. I would not bother trying to talk Svetlana into letting you out of this because they specifically requested you first offering $7 million and around that a package deal of $20 million was negotiated for the four of you. I don't know where they got all that money. It was said that they made a lot off of molybdenum and invested very wisely."

While I starred at her in disbelief, Sofia added, "It could have been worse. They wanted to have you have the children in Saskatchewan with their wives acting as midwives but Svetlana put her foot down on that. They will be sending a couple of their wives to attend the births and make sure you don't receive any painkillers or other substances not mentioned in the Bible. Also, I will be up there most of the time. We will never have less than four BLC employees there to make sure you are not injured. As the two billionaires have a total of 14 sons, you should expect that you will be having missionary style sex a half dozen times a day or more until we can prove you are pregnant."

After I started crying, Sofia added, "Svetlana insisted also that you be available for consultation on business so there will be a satellite hook up with Bolry to the compound. You won't be able to enjoy it much, but I'm told the scenery, fishing and hunting is great. I'm bringing my bird gun, rod and reel."

In the propeller seaplanes flying to the isolated colony, Jenny, Sheila and I felt about as you'd expect. Margaret, though, babbled about how she had always wanted to study one of these cult colonies up close. She could not imagine being able to do this in a safer manner. "It is true that I will have to have a child by some strange, religious figure or one of his sons without even knowing the exact identity of the father, but the only other way I would have had a chance to study this culture up close would have been to marry into the clan. I would had a hard time getting away to write up my research and publish it if I had gone that route."

It could have been worse, just barely. The two fathers in their 70s did not want to partake in the sex. They did inspect us all carefully after we got off the plane and called us by Biblical names. Specifically, they called me "Jezebel," which I guess was no worse than "Salome" and "Delilah" which is what they called Jenny and Sheila. They referred to Margaret as Zuleika or Mrs. Potiphar and thought themselves great scholars.

The men all had long beards except for the younger men who were just starting to grow them. They put us in a large insolated log cabin and kept us away from their women. Margaret and I, the pain slaves, could see women looking out from the big house while we were attached to pillories and whipped for our sins. Sofia had supplied acceptable whips that would not cut. She and other BLC employees interrupted the beatings whenever the fanatics threatened to damage the property but there was nothing fun about this torture.

Some of the sons were puritanical brutes who inseminated us like they were masturbating with a ripe melon. I managed to make emotional contact with the sons who were not too far gine. After treating me badly in front of the others, they would sneak in later alone, apologize for the way we were being treated, ask us to imagine what it was like to grow up like they did, and suggested that if they could figure out to slit how the old men's throats and get away, they would do so. These sons in private made love to us they best they could, having had no experience with sex or any way even to learn what to do other than to watch moose and birds. Several of the underage sons sneaked in just to see us nude. I smiled sweetly and told them that we were not evil spawn of the devil and that they should respect their mothers.