The Wild West and Sex Slavery Ch. 09

Chapter 9 -- The Life of one Indentured Servant

MORE ADVANCED JOURNALISM

Lena had breakfast with Neck Wallace that morning before he drove her to the New Orleans airport. She had been careful to erase and cover any sign of her meeting and tryst with Deputy Seele.

The sex had been welcomed even if it was very dangerous. More importantly, Seele had confirmed many of Lena's suspicions about the Free States. Lena also had learned from Seele that he had a few contacts who were also discontented with some things going on in the Free States. He would tell her nothing about these contacts. "The way to keep a secret is to keep it secret," Seele said.

They had made plans for Lena to meet Seele at the airport in Memphis on her way out and for Lena to receive data on women questionably convicted of crimes and sent to the sex boats, but Lena would not see or communicate with him until then.

Neck had suggested that they have sex in his room before breakfast, but Lena could not see any advantage to having sex with Neck now. "Ah, come on," Neck said after she declined, "the way you are carryin on, the next time I have sex with you, it will cost me a bundle of hard cash."

Lena wondered if Neck was going to turn her over to the law. She did not think so. Neck does not like simple treachery, Lena thought. When he leads a woman astray, he wants something complicated and at least partially consensual that leaves the woman involved feeling like she asked for it. Something like his paintball gunfights. It would not hurt, though, to plant the idea in Neck's head that he has something to lose if something happened to her.

"Mr. Wallace, you better hope I do not have reason to believe that you did anything to cause me not to make it home as planned," Lena said. "And if I should somehow be delayed, you had better do what you can to get me back to Hamburg. I may have more cards to play than you know about."

"Oh, I'm sure that's true, sweetie," Neck said in a cheerful, patronizing manner.

The Free States refused to build any trains because they were seen as socialist and promoted unhealthy levels of mixing. Air travel in 2045 was very expensive, but Lena had a big budget from Kultur, Sex and Sport and no interest in driving across Louisiana and Arkansas, which she had been told stank almost everywhere because of the huge number of animal feeding operations growing chicken and hogs for meat for the Asian market.

After the short flight from New Orleans to Little Rock, Lena checked into the new Orval Faubus Hotel. The first thing she did was get some more proper FASUG clothing, but to buy it a size or two smaller than a proper FASUG woman would buy for a woman her size. Lena was going to try to stay away from anyone who knew her. She planned, though, to use her charms to learn much and obtain the letter from the woman on the low-end boat that Tom Schnupper had told Lena was coming.

Lena located the censorship office in the Dixieland Security office, which was located where the William J. Clinton Presidential Library used to be. A historical marker outside the building dated "2034" stated that many had wanted to just tear the building down but that it was decided to re-purpose the building while keeping a room with a small exhibit in memory of the many victims of the Clinton Administration and the period of Godless degeneracy it nurtured. Lena appreciated this sign of Errinerungskultur (Culture of Remembrance), although she questioned its direction.

There were guarded access points to the parts of the building in charge of intelligence, counterintelligence, preventing immigration, stopping drag shows and monitoring heresy. Fortunately for Lena, there was not much security in the part of the building where the censorship office and the museum on the Clinton crimes were. Except for maybe a copy of Hamlet or To Kill a Mockingbird, a Clinton bumper sticker or Mrs. Clinton's emails, there was nothing to learn or steal in the censorship office, or Clinton Horrors exhibit.

Lena pretended that she was looking for the Clinton exhibit when she went into the censorship office. She had been lurking around for hours, waiting to see how deliveries came to the office. A few minutes after she saw a currier go in, she followed.

The male behind the counter, in his 30s and the courier, maybe 25, were sorting packages of things to be reviewed by the censorship office as Lena sashayed in looking as hot as a woman could legally look in the FASUG.

Putting on a terrible phony French accent that would have embarrassed Walt Kelly, Lena said, "Excuse me, Messieurs. I, a tourist from sinful land, want to see how things are done in a land of good, God-fearing people. Could you direct me to the exhibit on the wicked Clinton time of long ago?"

The accent was good enough to arouse interest and throw the guys off the trail of Lena's real nationality. The men appraised Lena carefully below the neck long enough to decide they did not care where she was from. The man in charge of receiving packages said, "Ma'am, the exhibit is pretty small. Most of us here in Arkansas are trying to forget those days, but if you want to see it, it's down the hall and in the back of this office."

"What do zou do in this offeece?"

"Oh, we go through various writings to make sure they don't contain anything evil and make sure that people aren't harmed by seeing them. The news media in the Free States all know what they can and can't discuss, so we don't have to review that stuff. We mainly review letters from Free State prisons and from indentured servants working in certain entertainment facilities. Generally, the prisoners and servants are just writing harmless things to their relatives, but some of the prisoners are very evil, and many of them don't understand what they can't write about. Can't say as I blame the women much for not knowing what they can write about because, well, let us say, they are exposed to a lot of harsh talk, and their lives ain't very ladylike."

"Zat's very interesting. Zou are doing very important ding. Zou have to review much?"

"No, most of the prisons are run by the individual Free States. There are only two central Confederate government prisons that send letters to us for review and 12 boats on the rivers and Gulf, but the folks in the prisons and the boats don't write a whole lot. Few of the prisoners are real big writers, most of them haint got a relationship with their families no more, and the women on the boats are pretty busy with other things except when they are sleeping.

"See here, there is a mail slot for each prison, and each boat and more than half of em are empty because we got nothing from them today. Anyway, at the end of the day, we deliver all the envelopes to the guys in the back whose job it is to read all these letters and make sure they don't contain anything unholy or conspiratorial. After deleting whatever they need to delete, they just send the letters back to the private service stamped that they've been reviewed, and the edited letters can be delivered."

Turning to the currier, Lena asked, "Zou drive to all of those prisons and boats every day?"

"No, Ma'am there are private couriers paid by the boats to take things from the boats to Little Rock."

"Why, Monsieur cannot ze boats just send things by mail."

The currier answered, "Ma'am, there isn't any post office in the Free States. A government postal service would be socialism, and we don't put up with anything like that. There is a private contractor that receives all the stuff from the prisons and boats and other stuff. I work for them, and I just take the stuff from the firm office a half mile from here to the censorship office every day and pick stuff up after the censors are done with it. Course, I got a lot of other work delivering ammo to folks that's used up what they had on tin cans an road signs. I gotta be very careful going to folks' doors, though. Knocking on the wrong door is often fatal in the Free States."

Observing the lack of a wedding ring, reading his name off his company shirt, thrusting out her chest a bit, and looking into the courier's eyes, Lena said, "zou have a very important job and I sure you have a lot of work zou do, Don, but do zou ever get break? I like zou learn much more about how the Free States get along without a postal service. We who live in socialist country have come to expect un service postal. Where say zou that nasty Clinton exhibit again?"

"You go out the door, Ma'am, turn to the right, walk down about 60 feet, turn right again, go down the hall and you'll see the door on the left under the pole holding up a stained blue dress. There won't be anyone there. You can just walk in and stay as long as you can stand it."

"Thank zou," Lena said before taking in the museum and going back to her hotel.

The following day, Lena just happened to bump into Don outside the Dixieland Security office. Taking a big risk, nothing new for her, she got Don to persuade her to meet him in the lobby of the John Calhoun Hotel where she had told Don she was staying. She had a Unwoke Coke with him and learned all the details she could about the delivery of papers from the Big Nosed Kate sex boat to the censorship office.

While Lena was traveling with Killer out west, Thomas Schnupper had established himself as a regular on the Big Nosed Kate. He was beginning to feel he could not possibly go on having sex three times or more a day as he looked for a woman whom he could persuade to write a letter and tell him when she gave it for delivery to the Censorship Office. On the fifth day, though, Betty Jo said that maybe it would be a good idea to write to her sister, who had fled the Free States years ago to Detroit.

"Days later, Betty Jo told Schnupper in bed that she'd written the letter he'd suggested, and the next day, she would give it to the person who conveyed letters to the censorship office for inspection and eventual delivery.

Schnupper let Lena know by text, although he knew it could be read by Dixieland Security. A message that said only "Es kommt Mittwoch," (It is coming Wednesday) would not be very incriminating even if someone read the text who understood it.

The day after Betty Jo properly delivered her letter for her sister in Detroit to the person on the Big Nosed Kate in charge of conveying letters for review by the censorship office, Lena stopped the currier not far from the Dixieland Security Building.

"Don, I need a leetle favor from zou. I send letter zu sister in Paris, and I afraid of sending out zome things that not been reviewed. Could I just tuck my letter into one of ze little bunches of letters zou are taking to the office and zou can take to your service office?"

"I don't know Ma'am. I don't think the office generally reviews letters being sent by foreigners. In fact, I have never heard of a foreigner trying to send out a letter. They generally use the services in their embassies."

"Well, zat make it even more important zat my letter go zu the censorship office before it go zu private contractor."

Obviously, what Lena was saying made little sense, but she added that maybe they could meet at the hotel again tonight, and maybe she could see where he lived. Don let her pick what package to add Lena's letter to; Lena pretended to drop the container of letters from the Big Nosed Kate accidently, sneaked Betty Jo's letter out of the envelope and inserted a letter from the sweetheart of a Confederate soldier that she'd bought in a museum.

Don did not see the switch, perhaps because Lena had moved her breasts and hips in a most interesting manner as she switched the papers. Don was rewarded for his inattention when Lena took another big risk by going home with Don and sharing her mouth and pussy with Don in his tiny apartment outside of town.

Lena rationalized that she owed Don at least a good couple fucks given that she'd just put him in a lot of jeopardy if the FASUG ever investigated how the letter from Betty Jo failed to reach the censorship office. Besides, she hadn't had any cock since Deputy Seele in New Orleans several days ago. Also, she loved having a younger man every once in a while.

Lena's enthusiasm when she climaxed in Don's kitchen, living room and again in the bedroom was heard throughout the apartment building. Don explained to his neighbors that he had introduced a French woman to the holy scripture, and French women always reacted that way when they got excited. His neighbors had heard that foreign women were very excitable, so they understood.

Lena read the Betty Jo letter as soon as she got it back to her hotel from Don's. Though a pretty hard egg, Lena was deeply moved by the letter. Betty Jo tried to realize her dreams, did everything she could do, and wound up getting literally and spiritually fucked.

Lena thought that the Betty Jo letter would be of great international interest as few outside the Free States had much understanding of sex slavery in the Free States. Lena hoped that many in the Free States would be unhappy and possibly some minor changes would be made.

But Lena also knew that the disclosure of the letter would not badly embarrass those ruling the roust in the Free American State under God. No one had done anything to Betty Jo that was illegal in the Free States. Collateral damage, like what Betty Jo described, was almost a logical necessity of the system. If her life was not entirely what Betty Jo wanted it to be, whose life is?

Lena wanted to disclose fundamental injustice in the Free States that the Free States politicians, theocrats and bureaucrats could not explain away. She also believed that some of the basic principles of the Free States necessarily led to evil that went beyond what the people of the Free States accepted.

Lena still had a tour of a sex boat planned, and that might turn up something. More critically, she was to meet with Deputy Cyrus Seele and get the information on the wrongfully convicted women on the way home. Seele will meet her at Memphis Airport.

If she could bring that out and get it published, she could move on with some other things she hoped to do with her life. Maybe she'd even do some of the things her mother in Baden Württemberg wanted her to do and stop doing some of the things that caused her mother to complain that Lena was killing her with worry.

Her immediate issue was what to tell Schnupper when she gave him the letter. She thought about that overnight and finished an article she had written on what she had learned in the Free States under God.

Schnupper came over from Memphis to get Betty Jo's Letter, and they met in a parking lot by Huckabee Park.

"Tom, I am going to give you two things in addition to the envelope that I intercepted on its way to the Censorship Office. I'd like to ask you, though, what you learned from your time on Big Nosed Kate."

"First, the Bundestag was probably wrong to outlaw the flat-rate brothels in Germany. Without the time pressure of having to fuck in an hour or less, things can be much more friendly. Second, all-you-can-fuck is a lot less at age 48 than at 18.

"Yes, I guess I knew that men had that problem. Learn anything I do not already know."

"I also learned that, as you would expect, there are some tussles in the Free States between the state governments, the county sheriffs and the central government; they call the central government the 'confederate government' because they hate the word 'federal.' The Confederate Attorney General, a guy named Brownell, and the Spiritual Advisor, a guy named Powell, reportedly think the sheriffs have too much autonomy. One of the sheriff deputies I heard blabbering after he had had three fucks and a six-pack of very expensive beer on the Big Nosed Kate, seemed to hate Brownell and Powell more than sin. He said they were out to destroy what little fun he had in life."

"That's interesting. What are your impressions on how the women on the Big Nosed Kate feel?"

"I could not ask anything directly, of course. Even gentle questions like "wie geht's (how are you) cannot be stated in a manner that suggests that you really care about the answer. Also, one has to allow for the fact that the women were on a sex boat, and anything that sounded like complaining was likely to get them into trouble. The boats conduct random surveys of customers as to how the women behaved.

"Even taking that all into account, I was impressed by how many of the women felt that they deserved to be working as sex slaves on the boats and that they were not to be pitied. This was always the case of the women who had been foreclosed due to a loan agreement. If they complained about anything, it was about what they thought was mismanagement of the Free States economy that resulted in them not being able to hold jobs that would have allowed them to pay their debts."

"What about the women in penal servitude?"

"They pretty much clammed up if you inquired how they felt about being where they were. The women in penal servitude could not openly complain either, and most of them acted scared if you even inquired about them. A few indirectly suggested that they were not happy by answering in a sarcastic way or answering with a question like 'What do you think?' or 'Does not life on a sex boat seem great to you.'

Some of them did seem to think they got a bum deal. They did not intentionally do anything that would get them on the boat. It happened to them. Some whispered comments like 'Sheriff Gibbs got what he wanted, what does it matter what I think,' or 'my life is what I got for being who I am.'

"How did the women feel about having their children taken away and put up for adoption outside the country for money? Didn't any of them want their children to go to relatives? Lena asked.

"I did not dare bring that up, but a few women volunteered that they thought they would have made terrible mothers and were alienated from their families. They were all pretty accepting of the system, although you and I might think it was awful."

"I think it is unmenchlich (inhuman)," Lena said.

"That is not apparently the view here.

"Also, of course, for all the women, being a sex slave is different from being a sex worker. On the one hand, these women are taken care of to some degree. On the other hand, most prostitutes can say 'no' to activities that they do not want.

"I heard that the guys who go to the strict discipline boats are sadists, and the guys who go to the 'all-you-can-fuck' or "flat-rate' boats are mainly low-income. But there are also low-income sadists. No one can do any serious physical damage to any of the women without being punished, but I saw a lot of spanking, paddling, pinching, hair-pulling and other abuse. Some guys did it right out in the open in the lounge area. Nobody said anything unless the woman started screaming. When that happened, they told the woman to shut up if she did not want something more to scream about.

"One of the other customers told me that even the women on the high-priced boats cannot say 'no' to anything and can have very rough nights. Rich men can be assholes too.

"How would you feel, Lena, being convicted of some crime that normally would have a minor punishment or no punishment in Germany but results in twenty years of being an open free use sex slave, required to do anything you are asked to do, subject to any abuse that does not do physical damage, and expected to breed?"

"I have thought about that far too much, Tom," Lena said.

After a long pause, Lena said, "Here is the letter I acquired that your girl friend sent that was to go through the Censorship Office. Here also is an article detailing what I learned on my trip so far. What I have learned from my interviews with Neck Wallace, the auctioneers, slave buyers, and lawmen does not include enough details to prove much unless you trust me already, but it will show the world what I was working on if anything happens to me.