Falsely Enslaved

FALSELY ENSLAVED

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part Five

The car was stopped at a small hotel in a nearby medium-sized town: I'd never been there before as it was out of running range for us. But it was all in a great hurry, and Officer Hughes was nervous, and urged me to hurry up as I pulled on the loose-fitting polo shirt and jeans that had been provided. I had huge problems with the shoes, though, as even those open strapped sandal things felt so strange on my feet which had spread a lot from being unrestricted for so long. I felt so uncomfortable and kind of "itchy", as I was now so used to the air on my bare skin that clothes were strange, almost unreal, and unnecessary.

I kept asking Officer Hughes what was happening, why we were racing like this, and where Sam was, and all he'd say was "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not authorised to tell you that at this point in time." It felt really weird to have someone else calling me "sir", as that was what I'd had to do for those years if I had been allowed to speak at all, although it seemed to be Officer Hughes' natural manner. And certainly I wasn't going to whip him if he failed to do so, which had happened to me on several occasions before my brain had "learned" to top and tail every single utterance to a free man with "sir".

We rushed on to the train station, and I got the impression that one of the cross-country super liners had been told to make a special stop for us, and to wait until we arrived, as the moment we were on board it roared away. No harsh slave benches this time - we had a private compartment in "first class plus", although I didn't get to enjoy the champagne and stuff as Officer Hughes was not allowed to drink on duty, and turned away the wines that our private serving slave kept offering. I persisted in asking what was going on, and always got the "not authorised to tell you" until I finally stopped asking, and just sat there in unaccustomed idleness watching the landscape roll by outside the window. It was the first time for years, literally, that I'd had time off, time to myself, and my body was restless, totally unused to not being in motion, or asleep.

A squad of officers came on board at Houston to escort us to a convoy of cars, and we sped through the downtown to what was clearly a very luxurious hotel - even though we went in through the parking garage entrance and not the main lobby there were slaves everywhere to open doors as we went past, bowing deeply. They hadn't given us a suite, though, just an absolutely enormous room with two big double beds and a couple of couches, and a TV and media centre. The bathroom was almost beyond belief: the bath, shower and lavatory were all in separate areas with marble tiled walls between them, and there was every conceivable sort of soap and cream on display. Officer Hughes was looking kind of uncomfortable as he saw me inspecting all this, and muttered "I'm sorry it's a bit cramped, sir... The budget's been cut recently, and so we'll be sharing this room and there are no private sitting facilities or anything - we're going to be here at least a couple of weeks, sir, and I hope that doesn't embarrass you, having to share a bedroom and a bathroom with me...."

I laughed at him, and explained that for the last three years I'd been sharing a much smaller space with between twenty and forty others, with absolutely no privacy at all. I told him I thought it was he who might have the problem, and he blushed slightly as he told me that he was a witness protection specialist, and he'd been trained not to worry about things like that.

"Witness protection?", I asked. Officer Hughes, who had been occasionally listening to stuff on the radio earpiece he wore, nodded. "I've just been cleared to give you the full picture, sir...."

"Look, Officer, can't we just cut the 'sir' stuff?"

"Certainly, Mr Masters...."

"If we're going to be sharing this room for a couple of weeks, I think we deserve to be on first name terms, don't you?"

"Sorry, Mark, you did say..."

"I said I was Steve now..... That's what I was re-named, and I've kind of got used to it. But what does your wife call you, officer?"

He looked really embarrassed then, and gave a small quiet smile. "Well the last time, it was 'you cheating bastard', as she'd found out I'd been with another officer when we were on one of these assignments. She pushed me out, and won't even let me see my son."

"So your girlfriend, then...."

"I'm kind of 'between' girlfriends at the moment. I don't get a whole lot of time to hang out in the clubs and bars.... But I'm Stuart. And my friends call me Stu."

"This is like pulling teeth, Stu! All that time to get your name out of you!"

"We're trained that way, Steve, as it's not always a good plan to let the public know an officer's name..."

"OK, but tell me what the fuck's going on..... And where's Sam? Is he OK?"

"It's a long story...."

"We've got two weeks, you said...."

He smiled again. I saw he had a really handsome face, and when things weren't serious and he broke out into a tiny grin, he was very appealing. I took a quick look at his body, too, well, as much as I could discern as he was still in his suit: Sam and I wouldn't have hesitated to see if he'd be interested in an evening's fucking, I decided.

"It's like this, Steve. We track stuff like the number of disappearances, and we noticed a disproportionate number of people going missing in the twenty to thirty year age group - mostly white females, but a statistically significant number of males, too. There was some work done on it, but when a Senator's daughter went missing, all hell broke lose and the Department was told to find her. We didn't, as it so happens, but it kicked off a number of projects to try to find out where they'd all gone." He paused for a moment, and went on "I don't want to bore you, but the state now knows a lot about people - your medical history, your weight the last time you visited a hospital or doctor, even whether you're circumcised or not! Most of those who went missing were in pretty good shape physically, and we though they might be the victims of illegal slave traders. It's almost impossible to infiltrate organisations like that, as by definition, the victims disappear into the general pool of slaves, and are really hard to find unless you know their SINs, which we didn't. And none of the slavers is ever going to talk, as the automatic penalty for illegal slave trading is enslavement, which they certainly wouldn't want! I mean, making a man a slave is about the worst thing you can do to him."

"Oh come on, Stu, there are hundreds made slaves every day...."

"Yes, but those are done legally, because they've broken the law. They deserve it! Even the northern states, where slave owning is illegal, will ship criminals off to the south. But to take a man's freedom illegally... Well, you'll know how terrible that is."

I nodded, and Stu went on "Thinking about it, it seemed that only the very rich could afford the costs of illegal slaves - they would already have the infrastructure for managing and controlling big herds of slaves, and a few illegals mixed in would be easy to cope with. Some little old lady buying a gardener or a cook would hardly buy an illegal, after all, as the slave could easily make the truth known. Only on a big holding, with the slaves very rigidly managed and controlled, could illegals be concealed. We decided to try to get operatives 'under cover' with the super rich, but it's not easy - they're a tight clique, and how on earth could the Department afford to give its operatives the background, and trappings, that would 'ring true' to the super rich? Finally one of our strategists conceived of the plan that has just come to fruition: it was kind of long term, as it involved going via the sons and daughters of these people: it's inherently easier for a kid at School to pretend to be from a rich background, he can mingle with the kids of the really rich, keep an ear open to find out what's going on.... We couldn't do anything about the currently disappeared people, but, in time, maybe we could collect intelligence at the 'fashionable' schools that would help us."

"The problem was who to send: by the time we're trained, all our operatives are too old. Me, for example, I couldn't mix with college kids as I've been through it five years ago, and then did the special operative's training.... So we advertised, discretely, for High School kids with an interest in stamping out slavery! You may think that's an odd thing for the Government to do, but we needed to recruit people who shared our desire to root out the illegal slavers. Of course, a lot of kids who saw the advertisement thought it was the Government trying to compile a register of citizens with the potential for seditious behaviour. Still, we had a fair few applicants, and, as it so happens, one of them was your brother, James."

"Jamie", I corrected.

"Well, Jamie impressed us - he was big and tough, and he was really pissed off about your disappearance and truly wanted to help. We can harness motivation like that, and gave him a crash course in using ciphered cell phones and stuff like that. At the last minute there was almost a hitch when your parents forbad him to go to a college in the south, even though all the fees and other expenses were being paid by us and it was a huge load off your parents' finances.. They're really against slavery, as I understand it."

"Yes. I wish I'd listened to them, and never crossed the border!"

"Well it must be a family trait, as Jamie ignored them too. We gave him a big allowance, some nice clothes, and a story about being brought up by a rich uncle in Europe, and now being sent back to the USA for a proper education. One of our Bureau Chiefs is an alumnus of that exclusive frat your so-called owner was a member of, and a huge donation, and a bit more cover story, and Jamie was in. All we wanted him to do was to keep his ears open, and, frankly, he went too far - his reports alarmed us a bit when he started to tell us about all the fucking he'd done of the slaves....."

"I know. I was one of them."

Stu looked really uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose he didn't know.....", he muttered. Then he cleared his throat and went on "We wanted him to get DNA samples from as many of the women slaves as he could, and once he really buddied up to Brett, and with Brett's desire to 'stud' you and Sam, it was quite easy: he volunteered to help Brett, particularly in cleaning up you ponies afterwards, and kept the tissues as they would be covered in the slave girl's DNA."

Stu stopped at this point, and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, Steve.... I called you a pony...."

"It's OK. That's what I was... Am, even.... Can I get these fucking rings out...?"

"Later, possibly. Anyway, as we did the analysis we certainly found a lot of the women who had been missing.... And then a zealous lab technician one night ran a match against the general 'missing persons' database.... And found you and some of the other men. He was reprimanded for wasting departmental resources, actually, as we were really only after the women... .the senator's daughter, in particular."

"It figures! All those rich bastards like senators...."

"I really can't comment on that, Steve. But then we did some in depth research and tracking back trough UPS records and so on, and found a small dealer who had been involved with a lot of trades.... And the investigation really took off. Suffice it to say we had enough evidence to raid the estates and demesnes of some of the south's richest men: I've just heard that your ostensible owner, Mr Walker, had over thirty illegals in his herd of two hundred - so many makes it statistically unlikely that it was accidental, so he's now waiting trial."

"But why all this rushing around with me... And where's Sam?"

"Ah well, the problem is that of those thirty, twenty nine are in fact 'true' slaves! They were free men when they were illegally enslaved by the man Jed who processed you, but they were in fact illegal immigrants, mostly from the Caribbean - there's not much work there, you know, and no prospects. As illegal immigrants, as we discovered when we investigated them, they are automatically enslaved. And slaves cannot testify in Court about what happened to them. So they're useless as witnesses, and are even now being auctioned off, this time with the proper paperwork."

"But where's Sam? He was a marine, a citizen: he was on is way to visit his folks...."

"What Sam told you is true as far as it went. What he failed to mention is that he was on a charge, for consorting with an officer's daughter, even when the officer had ordered him to stop. And, knowing Sam as you do, you can guess that for 'consorting' we can read' fucking': that sort of mingling between officers and the ranks used to be allowed, but is now considered to be very bad for discipline generally and so is forbidden under General Orders. He failed to turn up at his hearing before the Commanding Officer of his unit, and was posted 'absent without leave'. And after two weeks of AWOL, someone in the armed forces is automatically guilty of gross dereliction of duty.... For which the penalty, at least here in the south, is enslavement. So even as he was being sold illegally, Sam was in fact legally a slave, although the enslavers had no way of knowing that! And, as I said, a slave can't testify in Court.... You're about the only material witness we have, Steve."

"But where's Sam now?"

Stu looked really unhappy. "On an auction block somewhere, I'd think... The Bureau has no use for him, and he's a slave...."

"No! You can't...."

"It's the law, Steve."

"No, I'm going to find him...."

"I'm sorry, Steve, but you can't leave this room. I must tell you, formally, that you're a Government witness in a major conspiracy trial, and, as such, you're bound by Court Order to obey officers of the Court, of whom I'm one. And if you disobey....."

"....I'll be punished! I'm used to that. I'm still a slave, then!"

"No, Steve. You're a free man. But I have to warn you that the Courts take a grim view of witnesses who waste their time, and if you do try to leave and go looking for Sam, you might easily end up as a slave again - a proper one this time!"

"I might as well be a slave, locked up, no freedom, no Sam....."

Stu looked kind of sad. "I know it's tough, Steve, but a citizen has a duty to do all he can to assist the state, And this isn't like being locked up... You've got everything here, and room service can bring you anything you want...."

"Yes, why am I here?"

"You're in witness protection. As I said, there aren't many material witnesses to this illegal enslavement investigation that involves some of the richest and most powerful men in the south. Their easiest way out of this would be to remove you totally - no witness, clever lawyers, no crime! I'm here to protect you, and that's why we whisked you hundreds of miles away."

"But Sam...."

"You two were close, real close, weren't you?" I nodded. "Look, Steve, I can't promise anything, but I'll ask my buddies in the Bureau to find out what's happened to him. Who knows, when all this is over, you might be able to buy him from whoever is his then owner."

Well that had to satisfy me for the time being, and after the journey I was really tired and so we decided to go to bed early. I just stripped off the clothes I'd been given, went into the bathroom, and soaked for a long, long time in a really hot tub. I came back into the bedroom completely naked of course, as it was nothing new for me, and saw Stu looking at me.

"Yeah, these fucking rings and things.... When can I get them off?"

"Oh, I was sorry to stare, Steve... And it wasn't the rings.... It's you, generally - I hadn't realised how fit you look - I only saw you for a few moments at the Plantation, and now, close up...."

I flexed my muscles a bit to impress him, and smiled, as I thought Stu was kind of cute - his combination of almost boyish innocence combined with the responsibility of his job was almost like an aphrodisiac. "Well any time you want to experience more if it..... If you fancy a fuck, for example....."

He blushed bright red! "Steve, I'm on duty, you know.

And without wishing to denigrate gay men in any way, as the Bureau is completely non-discriminatory in these things, well... well I'm straight: I told you, I've got a son, even."

"I wasn't asking about your sexuality Stu, just if you wanted a fuck! A lot of straight guys play both sides, you know. In fact I reckon most of the men I've seen recently who own slaves use them sexually...."

"Well I don't.", he almost snapped, and that seemed to be the end of it.

Nevertheless I'd been really turned on by the thought of Stu, and when he came out of the bathroom in a T and his boxer shorts, I felt my erection climbing: he had very well-shaped hairy legs, and there were curls of hair peeping out of the neck of is T, which promised a really good thatch on his chest. I missed my own hair, and had decided to stop shaving immediately, and I was almost desperate to see Stu's body in all its masculine glory. There was no chance that night, though, and although I listened very hard, I didn't hear him jerk off as he lay there in the other bed. And in the morning, it was the reverse of the night before: he went into the bathroom (although I'm sure I detected a morning hard-on tenting the front of his boxers), and after the shower had run for some time, he emerged fully dressed and neatly suited.

It was fucking boring in that room, even with the TV, and as much food and drink as I wanted, and by lunchtime I was really restless - I wasn't used to sitting around doing nothing, and the pleasure of it soon palls, I find. I asked Stu if we could go out for a run or something, and he said it was out of the question, as my location was a secret and I couldn't be allowed to show my face on the street. When I protested that I'd go mad if I was shut up for two weeks like this, and when he'd sat and watched me run on the spot, do a whole lot of trunk curls, press-ups, and other stuff, he got on his phone.

They agreed I could use the hotel gym and pool after it closed for the night and the other guests had left.

Stu said that meant we'd need to "time shift" a bit, so we would stay up very late but could then eat breakfast very late, an so on. I dozed a bit during the afternoon, ate a light dinner as I didn't want my belly full of food when I was going to exercise, and we went down to the sports complex about midnight.

To my surprise, Stu changed in our bathroom into a sports shirt and gym shorts, with some professional-looking training shoes. He saw me looking at him in this new outfit, and told me that all agents were required to be fit, and it was no problem for him as he liked exercise anyway. I didn't have any kit, of course, but it didn't worry me: I simply stripped off totally once we were in the complex, and set about really working my body on the superb equipment, all the time keeping an eye on Stu as he worked away, too: in fact, as men do when they're in the gym, we began almost unconsciously to compete with each other in terms of who could have their running machine going the fastest, who could press the heaviest weights, and so on. It was no contest, of course: three years of really using my body had given me a strength and resilience that Stu couldn't match, even though the streams of sweat pouring off him showed me how much he was trying.

I leapt in the pool then, and that was he first time I'd swum since enslavement. I used to love swimming, and now I had the added pleasure of doing it without any stupid bathing costume on. I hung around at the deep end then, expecting Stu to join me and knowing I'd be rewarded with the sight of most of his body, even if he wore a costume.... And maybe, if he hadn't come prepared, he might even be naked like me. But Stu just sat on the side, watching me, and when I called out to him to join me, he shook his head. "It's my gun, Steve. I'd love to swim, but I have to keep my gun with me at all times in case there's an attack on you, and it can't go in the water."

Thwarted like that, I hoped he might shower in the pool complex, but he didn't and we went back to our room all sweaty, and he went through his normal night time routine of changing into a fresh T and boxer shorts with the door closed.

After three days of being tantalised by glimpses of his body, I was getting desperate - one morning he even went to scratch his belly slightly and I was rewarded by a sight of a thick treasure train across it - but only for the briefest instant. I determined to do something, and when he went into the bathroom the next night for his shower and to change, I gently opened the door so he wouldn't hear as he showered, and picked up all his clothes, and all the towels, and carried them out into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Stu's head poked around the door a few minutes later as I was lying naked on my bed. He saw the towels on the other side of the room, and called out to me to toss him one. "I'm not a fucking slave, you know, Stu!", I told him. "There they are - help yourself."

He had to walk across in front of me, and his long-limbed body was superb: his pecs were tight and high, and I could see glimpses of his ribs through the dense thatch of hair on him. There were some traces of hard ridges of muscle on his belly (which lay underneath a flat, neat belly button), and, in keeping with the rest of him, his dick was long and sleek, with the piss slit just visible where his 'skin had retracted slightly. I wanted o throw myself on him, but as he went for the towels, I slid off the bed, picked up a hand towel, muttered "Here, let me help...", and began to dab at his chest with it. I deliberately let my hand brush one of his nipples, which responded by going hard, and I locked my eyes on his as I let the towel slip lower and lower as I worked my way down his body. I didn't think he'd let me do it, but when I slipped to my knees and gently stroked at his dick with the towel, he moaned appreciatively. Spurred on by this, I leant forward and the intoxicating smell of him, clean and fresh from the shower, almost overpowered me. I kissed his dick gently, and as I did so it began to swell and firm, and rise from his body. "No....", he muttered, without much conviction though!

Look, I've told you I'm a straight guy, and with Sam, and occasionally with the other ponies, I only fucked and jerked around: in our stables it wasn't really the "done thing" for guys to give blow jobs, so I had no experience really. But I sensed that if I was on my knees in front of him he might subconsciously think of me as a slave and therefore let me go ahead. So I kissed it, licked it, took it in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, and, as I did so, I curled one arm around his hard, muscular butt ostensibly to hold myself steady, but actually to pull him closer to me, and to allow my fingers to start to explore down the warm, moist crack in his butt.

Frankly, I wanted to experience him so much that I didn't care whether he fucked me, or I fucked him. But he'd told me he had no experience of going with guys, so after I'd excited his dick for some time and my mouth was tasting the salty taste of pre-cum, I gently manoeuvred him towards my bed, and pushed him backwards. I threw myself on to him then, rubbing my body all along his and exciting fresh moans of ecstasy from him. He was a trained fighter, I suppose, but my time with Sam had taught me that I could overcome even a strong trained guy if I started correctly - and with my solid mass of muscle on top of him, there wasn't a whole lot Stu could do.

I moved around, and managed to get his upper arms pinioned to the bed with my knees, as my hands held his down above his head. I then shuffled my dick so it was wiping his lips, and he opened them gently so he could kiss my dick as I had his. I knew I had him then, and I reached backwards with one hand and started to jerk him off, sliding his 'skin sensuously on and off his dick head. When I sensed he was about to cum, I moved quickly to lie next to him, so that his cum fountained out over me, and I in turn could then rub along him so that we were both covered in it.

He was lying there, a big smile on his face and his eyes half closed, and I nibbled at his earlobe (something Sam had taught me that most guys seem to enjoy) as I whispered "So, big boy, first time, eh?"

"Yes, Steve."

"Well it is for me, too, in a way....."

"You told me you and Sam... And the other ponies...."

"No, Stu. This was the first time for me when I so fancied a guy that I set out to seduce him. It's the first time I'm not 'responding' to Sam and the others, and actively going on the offensive to seduce a straight guy."

"You're pretty good for a first timer!"

"And you, Stu. Now, are you going over to your own bed, or can I tempt you to stay here with me?" I saw him looking hesitantly, and smiled as I said "You know, if I was attacked, you could defend me a lot better if you were right by me...."

It took me two more days to get Stu to the point where I could slide my dick into him as he lay there on my bed. I was so gentle, so considerate, and it made a real change from the normal rough and tumble of sex with Sam and the other ponies. I took him in the position I really prefer, but don't often get to be able to use: a pillow under his hips to raise his butt just slightly, him lying full length with his head resting in his cradled arms, and me on top, in contact with his entire body, our legs intertwined, and my dick teasing and pushing and nuzzling at his ass until it slipped in. Then an hour of glorious, unbelievable teasing and pushing and stroking and fondling and kissing the sweaty nape of his neck as my dick gradually, ever so gradually, came to a full climax and my cum shot into him. We lay there then, me still on top of him, buried in him, as he turned his head around almost in a frenzy to try to kiss me over and over as he repeatedly cried "Steve, Steve, Steve...."

Look, Sam and I were long-time lovers, and I've told you how close we were , living, working and fucking together twenty four hours a day. So you might think I was cheating on him by taking Stu like this - well, think what you like. I know I still longed for Sam, but he wasn't there, was he? And he might never be again. And, in any case, sex with Sam was not like this: it was a roller coaster of two had bodies tussling and jostling for supremacy, so unlike this slow, languorous utterly sensual time with Stu.

I'd kept asking Stu to get a farrier or someone to take my rings out, but no one ever arrived. And as we were lying together one day, panting and sweaty form our sex, he ran his hand over me lightly as he did, and muttered "You need to shave, Steve...."

"You can talk! My hair himself! I used to be more like you, Stu, and I'm letting it grow again as I'm tired of looking like a slave."

"You can't do that yet, Steve. Come on - let's get in that big tub together, and I'll shave you - it will be fine...." I tensed. I'm always suspicious when someone starts to try to soft talk me into something. "Why can't I do it? I'm a free man, I can do what I like with my body hair."

"Oh, come on, Steve.... It will be fun, having me shave you...."

"Cut the crap, Stu! Tell me what this is all about, and tell me right now!"

He looked really uncomfortable. "Look, the lawyers didn't want me to tell you, in case you objected before you're in the Court and you have no choice. But there's a problem with the evidence - as I said, most of the other participants are now indeed slaves, and can't testify. So you're our star witness, and the lawyers are worried that the other side will try to trip you up, catch you out when you can't recall in detail what was done, or when... all that sort of thing. So they're planning to get you to strip off to show the jury your brand, your tattoos, your rings, and how you were shaved, and 'skinned...."

"I won't do it!"

"That's what they think, so the plan was not to tell you until you were in Court. Then the judge could order you to do it, to present the evidence, and if you refused you'd be in contempt of court.... And I wasn't supposed to tell you, but had to make sure you stayed smooth, with the rings and stuff in, and that's why the farrier has not appeared.. And now there will be hell to pay, if the Government case collapses because of me."

Well Stu ad I argued for hours about it, and I reckon he was lucky that I liked him so much, and agreed to further humiliate myself publicly to save his job! Unlike the old days, when cases could take months to prepare, in our new system of swift justice these things all happen really quickly now. So I only had a couple more weeks with Stu before I was in Court, giving evidence, and there in the dock were old man Walker, the tan-suited dealer, and Jed. As Stu had said, their lawyers, and old man Walker's in particular, who I suppose were the most highly paid, tried every trick in the book to make it seem that my evidence was fabricated. Finally, one morning, the Government lawyer asked for the Court to be cleared of everyone except the judge, jury, lawyers, defendants, and me (still over fifty people!), and then the judge peered over the top of his desk and said quietly "Mr Masters, please disrobe."

I don't know why I was so shy and embarrassed. After all, I'd spent the last three years naked, and I'd been made to do unspeakable things like fuck in front of other people. But having to walk around the courtroom, my dick cinched out in front of me and my nipple rings bouncing, was just about the worse thing that I'd ever had to do. I think I only did it eventually as Stu had said he'd massage the slave oil into my skin so that it shone properly himself - and I negotiated for him to really do it "all over", and had lain there on the bed as his big hands caressed all of me - I'd insisted he was totally naked, too, and so it wasn't a totally wasted day.

When I had to approach right up to the jury box and the Government lawyer fingered my dick to show them the faint scars from my 'skinning, I think we won the day: most of the men were sitting there kid of cross-legged, and the women couldn't take their eyes off me. I think we won because the jury truly believed that no free man would willingly brand, tattoo and 'skin himself, so it must have been the most gross form of coercion that I had experienced.

Look, I don't want to bore you with all the details of he case, but it was a real landmark. All the men were found guilty, and the automatic penalty was enslavement. Once they were slave, the dealer and Jed could of course be tortured into revealing information which, as free men, they'd been allowed to keep secret so as to avoid incriminating themselves: the names of the other dealers that Jed dealt with, the names of other clients that the dealer supplied, and so on. A slave has no rights, after all, and so the hot irons and electric machines could be used to extract this information now. Whilst they could not directly testify as slaves, teams of Agents began to round up the other dealers, and the other customers, and corroborative evidence was soon found in their files. In turn these owners and dealers were tried and enslaved, and then "persuaded" to give up the names of even more dealers, suppliers and customers.

So many falsely enslaved were found as a result of all of this that there was an abrupt rise in prices of all slaves - probably a panic reaction, as it was probably no more than one percent of the total numbers - and this worked hugely to my advantage: Stu, who it turned out had pledged all his savings, and even dipped into his retirement account to get the money to buy Sam - made a huge profit when he almost immediately sold him: to me!

Yes, dear reader, I was now a rich man! All old man Walker's assets were forfeit, as a slave cannot of course own anything, and under some obscure provision of the legal code, they were to be divided up between those injured by his actions. As I have explained though, I was the only one who was not now a slave, so it all came to me (after the outrageous legal expenses).

End Of Part Five