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Part two
I sat in my cell, the slave holding cell, a dirt floor, a trough for my water and a single block for my bread, one side was open to the street, anyone could gawp at me, only one day ago I woke in my own soft bed in my warm bedroom in my own house, master, well mistress of all I surveyed, yet I had been stripped of everything because I had a Negro ancestor, why had they done it? I was on 30 days notice of cullment, would another month have hurt anyone, why could they not have waited, I had no descendants, I wanted to meet my maker pure and unsullied, yet her I was naked on the filthy floor with my piercings making me so painfully aware of my sexuality, my hands were secured to my leather collar but I needed relief eventually I found I could fit a knee through the gap between two roadside bars and rub...oh yes coud rub.....
"Why Miss Van Gelder, what in the world, "
"Hello Mrs Yates." I replied, seeing my old friend. "I'm sorry but I just got to scratch this little Ooohhh, Oh my god."
"You are depraved," she said kindly, "Here use my umbrella."
It pressed against my lower lips and I wriggled down and down and suddenly the pain came and went,
"Louisa we heard" it was Mrs Forbes and Mrs Gates, my friends from school and there I was abusing myself on Mrs Yates umbrella.
"Gee Louisa, you will be taking over from Mina as the town whore soon."
I looked longingly to where Mina sat watching me, as I watched her as Harper Perkins took his pleasure with her as she knelt on her hands and knees, with his penis inserted deep inside her.
Yesterday I would have turned away feigning nausea, today I felt mere envy.
The day dragged, Miss Forbes took away her umbrella but my poor clitoris needed attention, every time she tried to retreat she found she was held by her ring, which aroused her, and all I had was the cell bar to soothe her.
The Sheriff came at noon, "Stretch your legs Lou, I'll just pop some weights on stop you running."
He fitted all five, my Tits, Clit and Labia, first time I moved too fast and hit the ground as I passed out with pain,but the feeling was wonderful as I walked slowly and smoothly almost floating as I walked the familiar streets of my home town, with the smooth grace of a ringed whore. I returned to the safety of my cell, and then Tom came for me.
"Hi lou, " he said, "I paid what I owe, I just got to let Martha sew my name on your collar and get you branded then we can go home."
"No, not branded! not that."
"Its law Lou."
Mercer Tailor was waiting at the forge, the branding irons ready. I stood with my eyes shut as the warm iron touched my breast. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"Paint mainly, I can't burn you Lou, so we dipped warm irons in black paint, John LaMont says it complies with the law so lets not argue.
The paint marked my breasts with the L and R the law required and Tom tugged my leash and I followed him to his house, past my old friends, and children, my weights tormenting me. I had to stop. I sat in the road in the dirt, and despite his tugging and admonishments I set my fingers to work, holding those lips apart so I could give her the attention she needed, my clit my only interest and preoccupation.
"No Louisa, not that, please." Tom cried, but I lay back under that hot sun I saw heaven, and then I was left in limbo, my fingers too small, yet my fist too large, I needed a man.
I sat up, looking at the crowd around me, and when I stood I saw my juices leaking from me running down my leg, attracting a coat of dust to their slimy trail.
I walked towards his house, and within yards the torment returned I tried to concentrate, his folks had moved on leaving him the house, he had been so successful that they had enough credits to retire and live to eighty and more so they moved to the Hills.
I saw piles of junk spread round the floor. "First job sort these books and stuff."
I looked, "Its my library."
"Was, it's mine now,I bought it, you put it in order on the bookshelves."
"Tom, or should it be master, ?" I asked
"Master is safest I guess, Lou."
"The rings are driving me mad." I told him.
"Then lie down," he said. "Lie down, on the floor, hold them lips apart."
He undid his trousers and stripped off his shirt.
"Tom, you'll give me a baby!" It was a stupid thing to say, I had twenty nine days to arrange to be humanely culled or I would be Hallaled my throat cut in the main square and bled to death, an agonising way to go.
"Thats the plan" Tom announced as he advanced, his penis looked firm and straight and potent and then I was holding my lips apart as he sunk inside, it hurt, he thrust harder, it hurt more then I felt something tearing, and he was invading me, and I knew peace. pulling him into me, urging him on until he suddenly filled me with his fluids.
"I love you." I told him. "Why did you let me fight you off all those years ago?"
"Same reason you fought me I suppose." He replied
"My Mom said I was not pretty enough to keep you, that you would divorce me and I would be culled."
"Well, I guess we will never know, but I waited on you, even when your folks were culled, and you spat at me when I offered you move in here." he reminded me.
"Move in, be your whore."
"I meant the spare wing, I thought you were to be homeless."
"But unmarried, in your house."
"I figured you needed time, Lou, it was too soon, Lou, why are you crying?"
"I hoped you would have wanted to marry me, when I was alone and free, I wanted you to offer marriage, not a roof over my head."
"Lou, I thought you needed time, of course I would have married you, if you had given me any notion of how you felt."
" Oh my, we could have been together all this time." I said sadly.
"Its all right," he said as he kissed me, "we are together now."
"Yes, but Tom, will you do something for me, promise please."
"Perhaps, but ask me and I'll say." he replied ambiguously
"I had a private cull arranged, for Wednesday, will you pay for it, please?"
"No Lou,"
"No, " I interjected, "No, yet you say you love me, and you wont pay for a humane cull, I have to have my throat ripped open, you beast." I slapped him, hard.
He took my wrists and clipped the cuffs to my collar.
"Lou, you're a slave now, you can't hit a white man, I could have you culled."
"Yes, I have only twenty seven days left that's what I want."
"But Lou, you're a slave, you don't run out of credits if I sign that you're useful, I thought Sheriff LaMont made you read the rules."
"I" I started to mutter but how to tell a man that I had not read the last document because I had been watching the town whore. "I didn't realise." I felt stunned, "I need time." I told him.
He slapped my backside, then he unclipped my wrists.
"Lou, I thought you will have our children and they will live full lives, Lou, and one day they or their children or their children's won't be slaves any more."
"I don't really understand," I told him.
He took me by the arm and led me to his couch, "We hatched a plan at Council, well afterwards actually the Sheriff and me, neither of us could bear to see you culled, so we went through the records and found this black ancestor."
"But" I started to say, but he placed a hand over my mouth.
"No you must not talk of this, just listen, you are safe for now and if we have children then we must consider what is best for them but for now you are my slave and I shall use you for my pleasure."
"But I, you, we, we cheated the system," I protested.
"The system cheated you remember?" he added, "But you have duties, Dinner, I hope you can cook, and needlecraft you are superb with the needles,"
"I don't have any needles" I protested.
"Use mine," he grinned as he handed me my old needlecraft box, "Read the dress code and adapt it," he insisted, "Protective clothing, be inventive."
I made clothes, I layered them so my breasts were exposed but only the undersides, I wore an apron all the time, and a skirt, and some panties except they drove me wild rubbing my rings, and I cooked and cleaned for Tom and I tried to be the most obliging and obedient wife a man ever had.
But even as he used me, and every evening he did what he could to sate the craving my Clit and Labia rings induced, pushing that magnificent tool of his inside of me three and sometimes four times each evening, over the kitchen table, or on the floor, or in bed there was not one single position which we had not tried, but for that my happiness was undermined by guilt.
I should be dead, but for his kindness.
I ever saw how happy and contented he had become, too busy worrying about my feelings when he should have made me forget who I had been and treat me like a slave, if only he had taken the strap to me, shaved my head, branded me, kept me naked, made me pull his pony cart or loaned me to his friends when their wives got their period, then I would have been all right, I would have felt resentment and hate, which would have driven me on, but no, he treated my with a respect I did not deserve, and the guilt became unbearable
"I can't do this any more, " I told him one morning, I felt nauseous again and knew it was because I was cheating the system.
"What?"
"Live as your wife, when I am a slave." I told him, as I took off my blouse and apron to stand bare breasted as the slave regulations stipulated.
"So what do you suggest?"
"I should work in the fields." It seemed obvious.
"Your skin will burn," he pointed out, "you will end up unable to work,"
"Then,"
"Then there is nothing else for you." he insisted, "Unless you want to spell Mina as town whore?"
I thought of Mina. He read my mind.
"Perhaps I could work a treadmill," I asked hopefully.
"No, Lou, we sent the last good generator north last fall, I guess the batteries have kept the power on but, no we culled the team."
"Oh my god you mean?"
"No, disbanded, most of them are clearing more fields for production, its just we have no backup for storms any more."
I sat there, listening. "Tom," I said. "When the South broke away, and the new order came in, why was it."
He replied patiently "because their skin burned if they tried to work outside so they did a deal, to equalise energy, it came out something like twenty times as much energy was used by whites so they fixed a twenty to one cull ratio, and Whites were dying by the million from skin disease, whites had to keep under cover while some strains of blacks were immune, but you know this."
"Tom, where is your automobile, air conditioning, air plane."
"Yes, the deal looks a bit sour, but we got electric light."
"So have the slaves." I pointed out.
"And we make the rules."
"So you can change the rules?" I queried, "I don't think so, they are laid down in the Bible or by the Southern States government, you just fiddle with quotas." I got angry, but my clitoris ring let me down, I moved about to rapidly and the weight tormented me.
I lifted my skirt, he stared.
"I can't Lou, not again, not three times in a morning, maybe you better spell Mina,"
"Yes." I said plunging the handle of the butter knife inside me, "Perhaps I should."
He reached down my favorite piece of broom handle and pulled my hand away to start to pleasure me with the wood, "Its wood, I need your cock, your cum, please try again."
I saw from the smooth line of his trousers that he was not interested, he kissed me
but it was meaningless, I needed cock not kisses. "you are useless, I need a real man."
"Fine, lots of them, I'll arrange it, you can spell the town whore, let her take a vacation, she has a sister in the Confederation, she can go visit."
"As long as I get satisfied, Its fine."
"You would be dead if it was not for me, how can you be so horrid and ungrateful?" he asked, in a horrid way that only a man could.
How could he know the torment a woman with a ringed and weighted nipples and clitoris must endure daily, the constant arousal and infrequent satisfaction, the battle to concentrate on daily tasks when she needs constant attention.
I dreamed of a succession of cocks each filling me with lovely warm cum, and I pushed his had away and speeded up the rhythm of my wooden friend, I knew what I needed and where my destiny lay.
"So I'll see the Sheriff." he said.
"Yes."
"You would rather live as the town whore than as my wife."
"Yes," I needed a cock, if he had just taken me there and then life would have been different but I had outgrown him.
"The past three months have been the happiest of my life yet you throw them back at me?"
"No Tom" I explained, "You don't satisfy me."
"Then you choose, be faithful to me or something else."
"It's not that, I'm cheating the system, it is not right."
"And I don't satisfy you, do you know how hurtful that is?" he demanded, "do you?"
My clitty was throbbing, I could not think straight.
"No, yes whatever, I can't do this anymore, I can't do it."
He slapped my face, "Fine, if thats your decision." he said and taking his knife he cut the stitches and took my collar off.
"Slave regulation of Ammendment Act 2149 section 3 (iii) Slaves must seek written permission to breed with anyone other than the Owner or his designated representative,
Notice of this permission shall be attached to the aforesaid slaves collar and such permission shall cover all other persons." he intoned. "Do you want me to sign."
"Yes," I said. My life of pampered privilege was more than I could bear.
He slid the sleeve with private property of Tom Chambers embroidered on it off and took a plain sleeve from his drawer.
"Embroider, whore to be used by any as pay her, no just whore, on there. I'm off to see the sheriff."
I waited while he went, I tipped the small table over and climbed onto the the smooth shiny leg, standing on tip toe then guiding it into my vagina and then sliding my sex down upon the smooth penetrating leg, it soothed my fire for the moment, yet I needed more.
I took my sewing box and with trembling fingers I embroidered the "whore" across the sleeve then I waited for Tom.
He returned with Sheriff LaMont, a while later.
"Louisa, what in gods name got into you?" the Sheriff enquired.
"I can't live like this, I'm living a lie John," I told him "I can't work the fields so this is the only way."
"What about Tom?" John enquired.
"She don't care what I think." he muttered.
"I got do do what's right."
"Then if it's what you want put that sleeve on your collar, slut."
"Yes John."
"Its sir, now" the sheriff told me, "white folks are sir or ma'am, if you want to be treated as a slave whore then so be it."
I slid the sleeve into place and the sheriff fastened the collar temporarily with some wire.
"You best get naked," he suggested.
Then Tom told me, "if you are serious your brands need doing again, burned this time, you understand, w h o r e across your forehead, and L and R on your breasts, and."
"Yes, I had two months extra after my culling date, I can't take the guilt, I can't work the fields, I'm too pale, the bible says no taking your own life, its the only way."
"For Gods sake Lou," Tom said "show some respect, speak when you're spoken to, you're a slave not a Sunday School teacher now. and I was going to say you should be covered as your brands have faded, I have an old blanket with a hole in put that on."
Sheriff LaMont spoke, "Come on girl, strip."
"Leave her John," said Tom, "I can't bear to watch, let her be, she can still change her mind."
They left me alone, and I quickly stripped, it felt good, unconstrained, I felt the bonds of domesticity falling away.
I heard banging noises upstairs then Sheriff LaMont came down alone, " Time to go."
"Where is Tom?" I asked.
"He assigned me control, lets have Martha sew your collar then Tailor can do the brands."
Suddenly I was unsure but John hooked my wrists to the collar and led me away, it was a strange sensation, the passer bys' looks were less intense now, I was no longer the main freak show, just a sad unfortunate, I looked around, I had enjoyed sixty days with my man, and he had tired of me so I hoped I would find something satisfying in my servitude.
We walked the dusty road, past the big houses, along the wide avenue where automobiles once queued and lights on poles had illuminated I felt helpless with my wrists secured yet the blanket hid my nakedness and the and there in the distance was Mercer Tailor, waiting by his forge.
The building had once been a ten story apartment block but now just one story and part of the lift shaft remained, this very shaft formed the base of the chimney from which smoke belched and drifted over the town.
"Hey John, " said Tailor "Right on time."
"Yes here she is, just branding, no leg irons."
"Sit down girl," Tailor suggested. "let's get you sorted out."
I sat down and Tailor lifted the old blanket off me, and brought the leather straps round from behind the chair to hold me in place, I realised he was going to secure my neck with a second strap, and then he secured my feet to the chair legs.
"Where do want them John?" Tailor called.
"Whore on the forehead and tits done." John suggested.
"Best gag her then," Tailor suggested and suddenly someone wrenched my head back and rammed something vile in my mouth, a leather harness followed, pulling the filth into my mouth then something pulled my chin up closing my mouth on to the gag.
"No" I screamed but it was too late.
Tailor went to the forge and returned with the brand glowing, not the black smoking brand of my first branding but a bright fiery red he quenched it in the black oil then he advanced, an L why the L when the WHORE should be first, I felt the heat searing the tiny hairs on my breast then I smelled the burning and passed out.
They woke me with a pitcher of vile liquid thrown in my face the pain was near unbearable,and as I woke the heat came again and the sizzle and smell of the second brand.
I stared but could not tip my head down far enough to see how they had mutilated my poor breasts,
"Shall I do the WHORE now." asked Tailor.
"No, I can't see her face burned, Tailor, how about that little brand?"
"Whore, or hows about Tom and a heart shape."
"Hey, do Tom on each ass cheek and whore in tiny letters on the sole of each foot."
I tried to shout "No" but no sound came out.
They loosened my left leg and I kicked Tailor so they just tipped the chair right over and Tailor burned that word right into my sole. The pain was unbearable, I barely remained conscious, and I heard Tailor laughing.
"That's clever John, burning whore into her sole, sole, soul, get it."
John looked perturbed "Hell Tailor it weren't no joke, I just wanted to avoid burning her face."
My foot sizzled, and the searing red hot daggers of pain shot up my leg, as the brand burned into my soft flesh. It was the smell, my flesh burning, that made me nauseous and I fainted again.
I woke to find myself free, the pain unbearable yet I was bearing it, "could childbirth be this painful," I mused, my breasts, and feet were agony, I stared in disbelief at my poor tortured breasts, Tailor had treated my burns with thick black oil. I looked round.
"You awake little lady," he asked.
"Ahhh I cried, what have you done?"
"Branding, oh and I doused it in oil to help the healing and stain the brands black, ole John he couldn't bear to scar your pretty face, sentimental fool."
"My feet, what have you done to my feet?" I asked, "He never said anything about my feet."
"It was Johns idea, look miss, they think you will get tired of this and want to live with Tom again, this way no one will know you are a branded whore, if you stay clothed and move away."
"Oh god." I said and then, blackness. next thing I knew Tailor was lifting me, out of the chair, onto his workbench, and his trousers were open, he eased my thighs apart, and nuzzled the bulbous purple tip of his penis against my soft slit, he lifted my wrists from the clips securing them to my collar and instinctively I pulled on my labia rings to open myself up for him.
He took me, no tenderness, just a simple primeval urge, and my clit welcomed the pressure and warmth of his body even as my conscious mind recoiled from the horror of the moment.
The welcome release of his fluids came too soon to quench my fire but as he withdrew his young apprentice took his place, and without a word he began to thrust wildly into me, artlessly, lovelessly, using me.
I tried to stand but the pain was too intense, I passed out again and as I woke Tailor had laid me down inside the door of the Town Whore's cell, Mina's cell, at the Court House, except Mina was gone and it was mine now, I was the new Town Whore.
I saw elegant ladies, clustered around, then I saw my things, stacked in a corner, placed on sheets so they would not be dirtied, "That's mine" I protested. My clothes everything, my sewing box had gone already, "Where is my sewing box."
"No miss, it ain't yours, slaves can't own nothing," John LaMont told me "Tom said bring it and let anyone take it."
"Oh, my paintings!"
John looked at the dusty frames, "Worth a bit, better ask questions how Tom got them so cheap." he said and collected them up and took them upstairs.
To be Continued,
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