It was just after the noon lunch when the tall man came to my classroom and talked with my teacher Ms. Sarah at the door. He showed her a paper and she called for me to come.
When I was at the door the man smiled at me and said, “Hello Erica.” I didn’t know him, and my teacher didn’t smile, so I refused his outstretched hand.
My teacher said, “Erica you must go with this man.”
“Why?” I asked her.
“You just must!” She said in a very low voice.
I always tried to do whatever my teachers told me to do, so I went with the man, thinking that i was missing my class and that all of my homework questions were correct and on my desk.
“Wait,” I said, because we were already walking across campus, “I have forgotten to take my books.”
“You will have other things to do,” he said, and grabbed my right arm. He was a strong man about 40 years old. I was only sixteen. I could have surprised him, because I was an athletic girl, and maybe would have been able to sprint away from his grasp. But it was like a mystery, why did he come and take me forcibly by the arm. What authority did he have — my teacher would not have said ‘Go’, if I was not supposed to.
So we went to his car, which was a very valuable one. In our village cars were modest, and he put me in his vehicle in a way I had seen the police force a prisoner inside. He pushed me holding my head down, forced me into the car. So I thought he must be a kind of fancy police officer. Once inside with the door shut, my door would not open from the inside. I tried to open it and get out. No one had treated me like that before. My mother had said, ‘Make men treat you like a lady and you will be one.’
He went around and got in the driver’s side. Once inside he took my hands and locked them to a device on his dashboard. It happened so fast and I was so startled that it was over before I could fairly resist. So I thought then this man must be the police and must think i have done something wrong.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I said, “My name is Erica Stoddard and you must have mistaken me for someone else. I have done nothing wrong!”
“No mistake,” he said, “none at all, but don’t pull against those restraints so hard or you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Are you a policeman?”
“No honey, I’m a collector.”
I quit struggling and pondered his statement and he didn’t talk. We traveled away from my village, going north and then east. I at first tried to remember where we turned so that I would know the way home, but we must have driven a hundred miles before we stopped. A big electric gate opened and he drove the car in.
It was a big estate out in the country like sometimes you see in old video. There were men and women in light green uniforms doing things around this big house, and there were other dwellings or barns some distance away. It was a nice spring day.
We drove right up t the front door and the man who had ‘collected’ me briskly walked around the car, unlocked my hands, and helped me get out of the car.
I could have broken away and maybe gotten away then, but to where? I was completely lost. The man led me into his house. He held me by the arm again.
An old man opened he door for us and said, ” Welcome home master.” He was also dressed in the green uniform and so I reasoned these people in green were the man’s slaves.
In our village everyone was equal to vote. Some were richer and others poorer but all were equal in civil rights. We got newspapers and magazines from everywhere else and slavery was most places, but it was not allowed where I lived. It was denounced. In church and school and public meetings everyone agreed, slavery was very wrong, totally wrong.
So for the first time I saw it (slavery) up close. This old man with white hair ws the property of the younger man. The old man bowed his body down and called the other ‘Master’. I guessed that all the others outside with rakes and shovels were also slaves of the man.
I had slipped looks over at him during the trip and he looked normal for a older man. He wore a business suit with a gold civic club pin. My father looked about like him when dressed for church. His hair was slightly lighter than my father’s and his shoes were very expensive looking. They were white and black and looked very new.
We went directly up stairs in the house and on the landing at the top of the stairs was pretty blond girl who was bowing as far down as one could and still be standing, she ran ahead of him to open a door he pointed to, she entered first and bowed. It was a lavish bedroom. Decorated in gold and blue, but it hit me when I saw the big bed. This man was taking me to his bedroom to sleep with.
I had been able to date boys for two years, never by myself. Boys would arrange through their parents to visit my house for supper or walk or ride with my family to a picnic. I was never alone with a boy, we didn’t swim or go to school with boys. Girls had to be virgins when they were given in marriage.
And now I found myself at about 3PM in a man’s bedroom. Everyone said I was beautiful, you can’t believe everyone, but some people you trust and I could look and compare myself with girls in fashion magazines. I was very nice looking, and so was the blond that was bowing in his room.
‘For sure’, I thought, ‘she has been in that bed with him.’ And slavery was not something we could ignore in the village of Cinder Ohio. Newspapers carried reports of estate sales in Briston and Ferry where there were detailed reports of men women and children being sold. Lists and bodily descriptions were fascinating especially since it was such a sin to us. These sales were often in bulk lots of people, and the larger the group the lower the unit price. One offering had been, ‘Fifty girls ages thirteen to seventeen, captured in a civil in a civil rebellion in Canada. Half of which are guarantted virgins, nude inspection can be made by interested qualified buyers form 1PM till 3PM on Friday at the Preston Center , the best offer over 30 credits will be accepted.’
The Preston Center was only twenty miles from our village and it was often used in the winter as a skating facility for teenagers and young adults. I had attended a fair there once and I remember seeing one pavilion that was labeled SLAVE SALES. I could imagine with horror being a young girl inspected by men nude before purchase. And the thought that men would check and recheck the virginity of various girls in a public place was unbelievable. When my girl friends and I discussed such things we all agreed it was barbaric and inhuman.
So the man in the bedroom spoke to the blond girl, “Betty this is my new girl who I haven’t decided on a name for yet. She is a conscript from Cinder. Explain the deal to her, and make her ready for my bed around sevenish.” He let go of my arm, twirled around and left the room.
All at once the girls slavish manner changed. She walked around looking at me and touching my hair with total authority. “Well no name, I have no idea what the master told you.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s usual, so here’s ‘the deal’, as he put it. Your his slave and a nice looking one I might add. What he meant by being a conscript is that in order for the little towns and villages in this part of Ohio to remain independent they have certain quotas of boys and girls that become slaves each year. Did you know that?”
“No, never.”
“Well it’s common. Your parents will probably tell people you went off to school. They ignore and are in denial about the fact that they are all his slaves and think they are buying peace and security for themselves. Anyway this master picks up girls from all over, very often. Some please him and he keeps for fucking, you know that word I guess?”
“Yes I know it.”
“So thats what will happen tonight, and I hope it’s not your period.”
“No not now.”
“Good, and I hope your still a virgin.”
“Yes”
“Most conscripts are, but owners like to be first. Now I need to see you so take off your clothes so I can inspect.”
“Where can I pee.” I said, I had not had a chance since after lunch. She pointed to a door off the bedroom. I walked over to it and when I opened it I saw three almost naked girls inside. I closed the door quickly.
Betty said, “I thought you had to go?”
“Three girls are in there already.”
“Those are called ‘necessary’ girls. They are there to bathe and one is a toilet girl. She wipes and cleans you when you use the toilet.”
So I went back in and what she said was true.
I followed Betty’s instructions about undressing and she did a sort of girl evaluation. Touching my breasts she said I had half gallon size, like she had , and that was better because, “The big cow tits tend to sag earlier and masters get new milkers.”
She felt me all over and marveled how firm my ass was and she liked the way I was curved. She took me in the bath room and had me climb down in the circular pool where two tall black haired girls who she called ‘bath girls’ scrubbed me as she ordered. Each time she gave an order they answered, “Yes mistress.” They not only washed my hair, but they put sweet smelling things on it and they combed and combed. She pulled a rope from time to time and a girl came in at once and Betty ordered other women to come. Two older women cut my hair and two others shaved the hair around my sex place. Betty said, “Masters like their slaves with that very clean.”
One girl who painted and worked on nails was slow arriving and Betty took down a leather lash and beat the girl as she laid on the floor. It left red marks all over the girls back and behind. Betty didn’t show even one bit of compassion as the girl begged for mercy. My thought was that the girl was beaten because Betty wanted me to see her authority.
All the time I was being prepared for the master Betty talked to me about how to be pleasing so “Your owner will want you again.” She said, “There are girls that I just clean up and leave in the room for him to have. I never give helpful hints to losers. Some girls start with a bad attitude and don’t deserve a life. There are so many jobs for slave girls where for example you are a wipe girl and clean asses all day. There is only one good job in any household for a slave girl, and that’s being the best fuck he has, or one he uses often.
Now this master wants a lively girl who thinks he’s good looking and wants him. The key word is love, you’ve got to fall in love with him. Want to be with him, ask to be with him. Don’t tell him what to do, crawl at his feet, but ask for sex.
Some girls have only one chance and it may not even be their fault. Maybe he screws them while thinking about someone else. Or maybe he needs a pair of girls to pull a wagon for some of his children. There are girls on this farm that he decides to treat as horses. He never fucks a horse. He may pat your behind or play with your hair, but he never puts road animals in his bed.
So here’s your situation, you’ve got to make him like you, and he has a steady stream of old and new girls always ready for his bedroom intimate attentions. It that certain part of his body doesn’t stand at attention when he sees you naked in all your glory, get down on your knees and lick it up. Lots of young virgins say, ‘NO’, no to this and they lose out.
So lets say you follow my advice and he thinks your great. Wants you once a week, at least. Once a week is great! Some weeks twenty five virgins fall into his hands. Sometimes he gets 30 in one day. He may not even pat each and every one on her butt. You my dear have a chance, he went to some trouble to pick you out, bring you home and now at ‘Sevenish’ he;’s going to give you a tumble.
So if he likes you a lot it is doubtful you will take my place as his house mistress. I have his job tied up for awhile, but you and I have equal chances to have one of his children. When that happens we move to his other house where there we are mothers, and care for his child.
Mostly mothers don’t ever get screwed again, although one slave girl named Sarah has three of his boys and they were not twins or triplets. Sarah is the top dog over there like I am here.
If you or I get pregnant we go over there. miscarriage means most often that you become a slave of one of the mothers. Mothers of boys have preference over girls. Mothers are only slaves and the child is his child. A mothers only duty over there is to care for her child, and of course stay sexy looking in case he happens by. As long as little villages like yours give up twenty girls a year he’ll never be very lonely.”
So I was all ready for him at 7. I psyched myself up to hop on him and be screwed. I believed it was life or death. The wipe girl who had cleaned my butt with paper and asked me if I would like her to lick it, was also a nice looking girl.
He didn’t come at all that night. Betty came in the next morning and told me he had driven over to a friends house and didn’t come home yet. So I waited all day.
She came in the bedroom and ate supper with me. Betty was like a cheerleader for me about the master. There were no books to read and after supper I asked Betty about maybe getting me books, just about anything. She said, “I’m so glad you mentioned this to me, instead of your owner, One of his goals is to stop educating village people. Already he has allowed no new books in their libraries. His next move is to take all magazines and newspapers away form them.
Just keep your mind on what you are doing Erica. When he comes to you, he will give you a new name. Forget about all you know.
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Contact Ray Cates at rcates2@cox.net
Fax: 1-352-629-1573
One girl who painted and
