Westbound Pt. 03

"Beg me for it, slave girl," Zeke said, smiling down at me as he unzipped his pants. "Beg to swallow my cum."

"Yes, beg to give him a slave kiss, slave girl!" Linda shouted out, laughing merrily.

Goddammit, Linda, enough already!

"Yes, Master," Ruzanna added. "Make the slut TASTE her slavery!"

Ordinarily slave girls didn't talk when in "present" position, but since they were heckling me no one seemed to mind. The smiling teenager pulled his plump little sausage out of his pants and playfully slapped my cheeks with it.

I looked up at Nicolaides, who was impatiently tapping his strap against his thigh. "Do it good, girl," he said. I wasn't a slave girl, but we both knew I'd have to play the part, at least for the time being.

Nicolaides and the other slave girls smiled at me as I debased myself before the smirking teenager, who smelt of B.O. and weed. "Please let me suck your cock, Master," I pleaded looking up at zit-boy with all the longing I could fake from the few Slave-TV shows I had watched while prepping for this assignment. "Let this unworthy slave girl swallow your delicious sperm."

Apparently my plea was good enough to please a chubby, zitty, horny teenager who may have never had a blow job in his life, from the sorry look of him. On my knees in the grass with my hands cuffed behind my back I had little control, but when he pressed his bulbous head against my lips I took what little there was available to me: I gave it a loving kiss and licked off the first drop of his salty pre-cum before taking it in my mouth. Soon I was bobbing my head back-and-forth, trying to finish my ordeal as quickly as possible before I threw up from sucking his foul tasting cock.

"That a girl!" Nicolaides said. "Now that's a slave kiss!"

"Oooh, you're a good little cocksucker!" Linda taunted.

"Are you sure you haven't been trained?" Janet laughed.

"No, she's just hungry for her master's seed!" Tracy retorted.

"She longs to swirl his baby-batter in her hot slave mouth," Ruzanna said. "Make her swirl it around before she swallows."

Again I ask: WTF Ruzanna? Baby batter? Swirl it around? Where do you even get that stuff from?

"Good idea," Nicolaides said. "Swirl it around before you swallow. Spread it out, then open wide, so I can see it all over your mouth."

The other girls laughed as I bopped my head obediently.

"See how it feels, Frankie?" Rhonda taunted me, laughing. "You wanted to know what it was like! One minute you're a professional, wearing expensive clothes and checking your phone. The next minute you're collared, cuffed, and sucking some stranger's dick by the side of the road!"

All of the girls were laughing at me, and a couple more cars honked and shouted. I used my professional training as a reporter to stay focused, treating it like any dangerous situation, and concentrated on the matter at hand. I looked up at Zeke with longing eyes, showing him slavish devotion as I sucked his disgusting dick. I truly did want him to experience rapture, and come, for the sooner this was over with the better!

Another car drove by. "Devil whore!" the woman passenger shouted. "Rot in hell!"

Fucking Texas.

"Slow down now, son," his dad cautioned. "You want to make it last."

But Zeke was 19, and stupid, and horny, and he couldn't slow down even if I let him. A second later he cried out in ecstasy as I felt the first burst of his salty cum. Chubby zit-boy came and came: trapped in a camper with his family on some idiotic road trip, he probably hadn't had a chance to jerk off in a while. So I was getting the full load. It tasted about as bad as you'd expect, like chlorine bleach mixed with salt, fish oil, and a shot of hemp oil. Worse, there was a lot of it!

I looked up at Nicolaides, who as smiling broadly at my debasement, but fondling the strap in a way that made it clear that his instructions would be followed. Dutifully I sucked out every drop, then swirled it around my mouth, being careful not to swallow any (which would probably make me throw up anyway). When Zeke finally pulled out, I opened my mouth wide, to let Nicolaides see. As he had hoped, my mouth, tongue, and teeth were coated with Zeke's teenage splooge.

"Stay on your knees, and leave your moth opened," Nicolaides said, smiling like a predator down at me. "Let it dry."

"Wow, thanks, Mister!" Zeke said, shaking Nicolaides' hand. "That was the best birthday present ever! I'm definitely going to apply at HCI."

"I hadn't thought of slaving, son," his dad said. "But that might be a good job fer ya'. Get you out of my house, anyway. Plus it's a great way to meet girls."

Not an ounce of self-awareness in that man.

The three men chatted for a couple of minutes, about the slaving business, football, fishing, and how 'Texas was the best damn state in the whole damn country.' In the dry Texas air the ejaculate in my mouth quickly changed from a liquid to a paste to a dry layer of soap scum.

A fly landed on my nose, and I shook it off. Nicolaides, pointing the strap at me, said "FREEZE."

The fly landed again, and slowly crawled across my face. Nicolaides smiled at me, tapping the strap slowly and menacingly as I dared not to move. Good Lord, that was insanely hard to do.

Meanwhile, Dad blathered on. "The key to fly fishing ayn't the place, it's the bait. And I got the secret, I'll tell ya what!"

I fought the urge to gag as the fly crawled across my lower lip, pausing to lick up the dried splooge, then crawled into my mouth.

It was too much. I coughed and spit it out. The fly, not the cum, which was already dried into a thick skin in my mouth.

"Oh, does the slave girl need more spunk?" Linda said.

"Yes," Nicolaides observed, "I do believe she's hungry for some more. What do you say, Mr. Hillock? Wanna give her a go?"

"Go ahead, Dad, she's amazing," Zeke said, nudging his dad with his elbow. "This is a once in a lifetime chance! Don't worry, I won't tell mom."

Fat Dad looked at Zeke, and grinning Nicolaides (who was thoroughly enjoying this), and then at the kneeling slave girl with her hands cuffed behind her back, her mouth coated with his son's jizz.

"Maybe I'll do one of the other ones," he suggested.

"No can do," Nicolaides said, shaking his head. "They're not trained, they might bite you, and my employer would be liable. But this one knows the whip, and she knows how to suck."

The other slave girls laughed and jeered as the fat man unzipped his shorts and fished his penis out. As I knelt in the grass with my legs spread wide, a new sensation: I could feel a breeze run through my legs, over my winking asshole and past my pussy. Another reminder that this was really happening, and that it could always get worse — Nicolaides could offer up my virgin ass to these yahoos, and there would be nothing I could do about it.

Thank God I had activated my beacon! Hopefully the cavalry will arrive before the situation gets any worse.

Dad was older, so it took more work to get him hard. In the interests of getting the hell up and off of my knees, I improvised: I tried softly humming The Yellow Rose of Texas as I sucked, and tried to take his short but surprisingly thick cock as far into my mouth as possible. I finally managed it, and was able to stick the tip of my tongue out just enough to lick his salty testicles a few times.

"Damn, girl," Nicolaides said, sounding almost impressed. "Holy crap, Dad," Zeke said, clearly impressed. Dad, lost in the pleasure of my hot mouth and tongue, didn't even open his eyes, but he did manage to grab the back of my head.

I applied a little more suction and increased my speed, and Voila! Dad shuddered and moaned "Oh, oh, oh," as he came in my mouth. I have no clear idea what his spunk tasted like, since his son's still clogged my taste buds, but there was a lot of it. I got the impression that dad was even more pent-up than junior.

Cars had been speeding by us every now and then, but the next car was the most unwanted. A Texas State Trooper spotted us and immediately turned on his blue flashing lights. We all watched as the car pulled up in front of the coffle but behind the camper.

"Not good," Zeke said, as his father pulled out of my mouth and quickly zipped up. Maybe for the first time ever, Zeke was probably right.

As the trooper called in the stop, Chuy walked over to the car and conversed with the trooper through his passenger-side window. Nicolaides looked over at Mssrs. Hillock and said, "We should probably call it a night. All good, fellas?"

"We are more than good, mister," Dad enthused, shaking Nicolaides' hand like a pump handle. "Thanks for both of us, but especially my boy." Just then a soft, feminine Texas drawl came from the RV door.

"So what's y'all doin?" she asked sleepily.

We all looked over to see an astonishingly beautiful young woman, very tall, and blonde, and leggy, standing in the RV doorway. She was hot, so hot in fact that I'm sure she was probably illegitimate, because there was no way the pathetic sausage I'd had in my mouth had produced a daughter like that. She was barefoot, wearing a burnt orange nightshirt with the words TEXAS printed over a drawing of a longhorn steer, the symbol of the University of Texas at Austin; the nightshirt only came down a few inches past her crotch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other slave girls tense up as they gave the newcomer an appraising once-over. Even dressed, college girl was hotter than the lot of us, and slave girls don't like competition.

Surprised to see his daughter, the blood drained from Dad's face. "Now Ellie May, what're ya doin' here? Get back in the trailer, we've got to be going."

"Don't have a cow, Dad. I know what a blow job is, and I saw you get one from that slut on the ground there. Glad to see you finally gettin' some, I know what a bitch mom can be."

Dad's mouth fell open. "How long have you..."

"I wanted to pee," Ellie May said, wiping her eyes. "My disgusting loser little brother left the bathroom smelling like something died in there."

"I did NOT," Zeke objected. "And I'm NOT a loser. I just got a blowjob."

"You did NOT," Ellie May said. "Even a slave girl wouldn't blow YOU, loser."

"This one did," Zeke said, pointing down at me, sounding kinda proud. "Swallowed my whole load."

"Ew, Dad, you're taking sloppy seconds from Zeke?" Ellie May said. "Gross!"

"Alright, that's enough," Dad sighed, and started for the RV. "Come on Zeke, we're goin'."

Zeke smiled at Nicolaides. "Thanks again, mister — best day of my life."

Nicolaides handed Zeke a business card. "I was serious about applying at HCI," he said. "Fill in the online application and send me an email when you do. We got internships and entry-level jobs opening up all the time, and I think you might be a good fit. Also," he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, "A slave as hot as that sister of yours would be worth a lot of money at auction. Enough to buy a very fast car, for example. And the finder gets to apply the branding iron. Think about it." Nicolaides winked at wide-eyed Zeke, who took the card, looked back at his sister, then returned the wink with a very wide grin.

"I'll do that," he said, and waved goodbye.

————————

Nicolaides walked down to talk with Chuy and the trooper, leaving the coffle by itself.

I sat back down — more accurately, knelt back down, careful of my inflamed bottom — next to Linda.

"Well," I sighed, nodding at the police cruiser, "I think my ride is here."

Linda nodded her head slowly. "Mm-hm," she said.

"Hey Linda," I said in a low voice, "What was up with all that shouting and making fun of me while Nicolaides was heaping on the abuse? You guys were really egging him on."

"That's normal," Linda said with a shrug. "Part of it is that slaves love nothing better than to see another slave be punished and humiliated. Some sort of pack mentality, I suppose. Part of it was that the girls wanted to make sure that he didn't back down, but gave you the full-on slave treatment so you had an even better understanding of what their life is like. And part of it was to make sure that it was you and not them who had to do suck-duty on those two walking, talking cow pats."

"Pretty shitty behavior, if you ask me," I said.

"It is what it is," Linda replied.

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Certainly, Frankie."

"One thing I'm having a hard time understanding," I said. "You know a lot about how slavery works as a system, how the institutions work or don't work, how to deal with slaves and how they act and what they think. But you were just a pleasure slave to a wealthy man, and before then you were an executive in the energy industry, not the involuntary service one. Not to mention that you have a great deal of natural authority that even professional women like Janet and experienced slaves like Ruzanna respect, and from what I've seen you have no fear of anything. To turn it back around, I feel like you are not telling me everything."

Linda gave a rueful chuckle. "You're a smart one, I'll give you that. I'll certainly tell you; I wasn't hiding anything, I just didn't have a chance to finish my story — besides, you deserve to know."

Here's what she told me: the "auction" her former boss and now owner held for her was a sham. He really just wanted to make a present of her to his closest friend, his personal attorney of many years, as a companion, and used the auction as an excuse for a party. Once Linda found out, she was more than pleased: while the attorney was quite a bit older than she, he was a kind man who had always held her in high esteem and respected her intelligence and achievements when she was free. She was his servant, his sex object, and his friend; before long she also became his confidant, then his business partner. Because of her old owner's interest in slavery, her new owner had developed a great deal of expertise in slavery law and was in demand all over Oklahoma, Texas, and the southwest. She ran his day-to-day office operations, then started advising him on his business, before finally taking over planning and execution for some new ventures that became very successful. She and her owner became very close and eventually grew to care for one another. He intended to free and marry her (called catch and release in the lingo of the trade, she told me) but suffered a heart attack before he could do so. His adult children from his first and only marriage inherited everything, and quickly sold her for fear of what she might do.

"The leadership stuff comes from years of managing people and running businesses, while the knowledge of the peculiar institution comes from learning on-the-job at the most popular and successful slave law practice in Texas," Linda concluded.

Nicolaides returned up the grassy rise, and stopped next to Linda, dropping my bag on the ground in front of her.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Three things, my dear," Linda said to me, as she slowly stood up. "First, here's the missing bit of my story: before Lyn died he had already amended his will. I was to be manumitted if I wasn't already free, and inherit everything, including the businesses. His children hustled me out before I could act and had me shipped off to Houston and HCI. But I'm not going to let them get away with it: I have the original of the will securely hidden, I just need freedom of action and I'll make them wish they'd never been born."

"Second," she continued, "Theo here is an old friend." She nodded at Nicolaides, who smiled back. "He's been helping me ever since he located me at HCI."

"I timed that blowout just right, don't you think?" he said, chuckling at the look on my face. "That's why I was late to the load-up, I was planting a little mobile-phone-triggered kaboom on the tires."

"And finally," she said, "you're going to help me, too."

"Wait— what?!" I quickly shook my head, staring in amazement at her as she turned around, Nicolaides removed her handcuffs, and then unlatched her collar. He pulled a t-shirt, a set of coveralls, and some canvas shoes out of my bag and handed them to her. She continued to talk as she dressed quickly and pulled her long silver hair up into a tight bun, fastening it with pins from Nicolaides.

"The thing about slave transport is that it's rarely truly corrupt, but it is often poorly managed and insecure. Someone who understands how the system works can manipulate it to their advantage. For example, the only check in HCI's transport logistics system is whether the truck arrives carrying the same number of slaves it departed with. The photographing and careful checking in at the loading dock, that's all for making sure the right ones get on. The system has no way of automatically determining if the eight slaves who arrive in Albuquerque are the same eight slaves who left Houston. As long as the right number shows up, no one thinks twice."

"No one is paid enough to check manually without being told to," Nicolaides added. "And no one cares enough to tell them to."

"It's also not difficult to alter someone's records at HCI, especially if you have manager-level access like Theo here," she continued. "I can easily make you a slave and have you sold in ABQ, never to be seen again. And that was the initial plan."

Linda squatted down next to me. "But the truth is, once I got to know you I liked you. You're smart and honest, two things I rarely find in the same person. Lyn was that way too. So I changed the plan. Theo?"

Nicolaides squatted down in front of me and pulled his phone out of the dad holster on his belt, tapped the screen and held it up in front of me. It was a recording of a conversation between him and my editor Marla.

"I'm a little surprised she volunteered," I heard Marla saying, "But that's so like her. She enjoys the danger, risking it all for a story, a real adrenaline junkie. And I think it's a great idea for a piece, I'm sure our marketing people will love it. I'll go ahead and extend her contract at the same rate, although six months seems like a really long time for some slave training, doesn't it?"

"It's actually two phases," I heard Nicolaides' voice say, "the first is a standard thirty-day obedience school, so you'll have video of that before your series premier, while the second phase is one hundred and twenty days at the elite companion training academy I told you about. That in itself could be a mini-series."

"Yes, I like that," Marla replied. "Of course the network will cover any expenses, which reminds me: I need to send someone out to repair her equipment that was damaged in the accident-"

Nicolaides shut it off and looked at Linda, who looked back at me.

I was almost too stunned to speak, but I did anyway: "I don't understand. What's happening? Am I being made a slave?"

"You are not a slave: you have voluntarily indentured yourself for six months in order to undergo training as part of an investigative report," Linda replied.

Nicolaides showed me his data pad: on it was my indenture certificate, with a pretty good facsimile of my signature.

Holy shit.

"How the fuck did you do that?" I cried.

"Theo, here, will monitor your indenture," Linda continued, ignoring my question, "Along with an old friend of mine who is an attorney, although if you decide to convert to full slavery afterwards he could certainly arrange that. Like Theo said in the video, your first stop will be at an obedience school, a typically corporate sort of place run by HCI in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Nothing fancy, but it's what most women experience when they are initially enslaved. As the name implies, it is intended to teach you the basics of being a slave, including obedience."