INTRODUCTION TO A SLAVE’S LIFE

Mortal life in a physically limited format gets messy. It’s even worse for a slave. Here in fallen physical mortality, we get to practice and learn from our own experiences the difference between the bitter and the sweet so that we can understand how to tell them apart.

She was born a slave on a highly technologically advanced world, ruled and dominated by the Military Hierarchy. The Military controlled all of the machines, including the hoverjets, autobots, nanobots, surveillance crafts, bombers, bombs, missiles, satellite system, cutting laser beams, plasma guns, bullet firing guns, sun cells, utilities, the civilian automobiles, public transportation, the internet, public communication systems, and the Artificial Intelligences that controlled them all.

It was simply called “The Military”, and they had been in control of the world Hearth for centuries. The Military had rewritten history to portray themselves as the liberators of mankind; and, any records from the Times Before were purposefully hunted down and destroyed. Hers was a world with literally NO history outside of The Military.

She had no idea why she was a slave. She was repeatedly told by her Owners and Masters that she is the last of her inferior race; but, she didn’t know whether they were telling her the truth or not, because she had caught them lying to her many times before.

As a young child, she used to believe in God. She even prayed to God for deliverance, for which she was severely beaten and punished. Her Masters told her that God does not exist and that it doesn’t make any sense to pray to Him. Nearly ten years later, and she was starting to believe them. She had seen no sign of God in her life or anywhere else. She simply knew that she was on her own.

Her Owner and Master was the undisputed Leader of the Military – the General of the Generals. Only the Generals were permitted to own a slave from the slave race. He was a foul-mouthed and cruel individual. The only time she ever saw him was when he came in to beat on her and take out his frustrations on her, which thankfully was limited to a couple times a year, because he tended to break bones and draw blood. The medical bots could supposedly heal her in a timely fashion, but they never let them anywhere near her; so, she had to do all of her healing on her own. She seemed to heal quickly at almost a supernatural rate. Thankfully, her face and head, belly and womb, seemed to be off-limits for the whippings and the beatings, with the ultimate intent to keep her functional and alive in the end. Lots of broken arms and the occasional broken leg, but her head and brains were still intact.

She was in her fourteenth year, and when she turned fourteen, her Owner and Master could take her as one of his concubines and forcefully rape her at will in an attempt to impregnate her and perpetuate her race for another generation – a prospect that she didn’t relish in the least. Or her Owner and Master could give her to His son and His son could do the same with her.

She was secretly hoping that she would end up with the son. The son was pliable, naïve, and seemed to have a crush on her. He kept telling her that she is the prettiest thing he had ever seen – prettier than all the girls in the school, and at work, and at the academy. She wouldn’t know, because she had never been allowed to go to school; consequently, she had no idea what the “other girls” looked like; and, she had never seen herself in a mirror. The son was kind and gentle with her, but then he was expected to be. She had no idea whether the son would turn out to be like the father, once she was the son’s property; but, she was hoping that such wouldn’t be the case. The son was plain-looking and tolerable; whereas, the Master and Owner was totally disgusting, huge, and smelled. He was also brutally cruel.

The son was profane, crude, and rude like all the others in The Military; and, he was rising through the ranks. But, the laws wouldn’t let him rape her and use her until he was her Owner and Master and until she was fourteen years old. It was actually a death sentence for him to do so. He complied and tried to win her over to his side instead. Over and over again, the son kept telling her that she is the prettiest thing that he had ever seen. She wouldn’t know if it was true or not, because she hadn’t seen anyone else besides her Masters.

THE SITUATION

She had no name. She was called “Slave”. She had no idea who she was or what she was. She was just “the slave”. All she knew was that she was a human being – whatever that was; and, they were human beings too. She was just a member of the inferior slave race. In contrast, her Masters and Owners were members of the elite military race.

She was imprisoned in a part of the house that had cement walls, no windows, and steel doors. She had NO access to technology whatsoever. In fact, she had been warned that if she ever went anywhere near a machine, she would be whipped and beaten to death – something which nearly happened to her when she was a child and first tried to approach one of the autobots or machines in the main house. They beat her so severely that they broke bones and drew blood. She had no intention of doing that again. Plus, they never really let her out of her concrete bunker ever again.

Steel doors.

One of the doors opened to a concrete yard with cement walls ten meters high, a potted plant or two, dumbbell weights for lifting, a patio for shade, and lots of sunshine. She was expected to walk in the yard and keep herself fit, which she did as much as reasonably possible.

They had given her a loom where she could weave, and they brought clothing to her to sew and mend by hand inside her concrete room. She was permitted to touch clothe. Mending and sewing clothing was her assigned task as the slave. The autobots and machines sewed all their clothing for them, which meant that the weaving and sewing were simply to give her something to do in order to keep her sane. She never got to wear what she produced. They sold it and made money from it. They kept her in rags. Her food was brought to her on plastic plates and the plastic dumped into a plastic garbage can which was hauled out once a week; and, she had a toilet and sink in the concrete bunker but no shower or bath. Thankfully she was female, so she didn’t get to stinking like a male would, and a sponge bath at the sink was usually enough to keep her presentable.

The Mistress – the Owner’s First Wife – was the closest thing she ever had to a mother. The woman didn’t love her; but, the Mistress wasn’t exactly cruel either. The Mistress had been assigned to keep her company, teach her how to be a female, teach her a trade (weaving and sewing in this case), teach her to speak the language, and was responsible for keeping her fed and healthy. Because the Mistress was tasked with keeping her healthy and in good repair, the Mistress would actually intervene to keep the beatings from becoming too bad to recover from. As part of teaching her the language, the Mistress would bring her ancient books on paper to read. She loved books and read anything she could get her hands on. Alas, they wouldn’t let her read anything to do with science and technology; but, she could read almost anything else.

As she got older the reading material changed for the worse.

Usually, she would be given a history book to read – mostly containing propaganda about the importance of obeying and supporting The Military and about how The Military had liberated Hearth from the evil religious caste, whomever they were – but occasionally there was some kind of sexy explicit romance novel on the “Art of Satisfying a Man” given to her to read, allegedly to keep her placated and to introduce her to her future role as her Master’s concubine and sex slave – a future destiny that she dreaded and tried not to think about.

Apparently the laws didn’t allow him to take her until she was fourteen. Thankfully, he was away a lot running the world, and she hoped that he would show up later rather than sooner after she turned fourteen. Somehow she could sense that he was getting lots of sex from lots of women all over the world, and she was hoping that he would never take any interest in her or never get around to her.

Her Master was a short stocky ham-fisted brute, and he was now starting to gain a lot of weight, and always smelled bad. Beating on her and breaking her arms is what he did for sexual foreplay before engaging with his Mistress in the actual act. Her Master really liked it when she fought back, and actually seemed to go easier on her if she fought back. She was getting bigger and it was harder for him to break her arms and legs.

Apparently, her Master liked his women plump and well-rounded because when she reached puberty they started feeding her lots of fat along with the mush that they always used to feed her. She would be fed the garbage from their tables that they refused to eat or left behind, which included fat and gristle from their meat. It was actually tastier than the mush or vegetables. They would sometimes give her the fruit when it was starting to rot. She would eat the good bits and toss out the rest. She had been using the extra nourishment to gain strength. Her arms were a bit deformed due to all the broken bones, but her legs were coming along nicely, and it had been years since she had had the last broken leg to deal with. She would jog in the yard and pump the weights.

Her Masters were monsters, and she lived under the constant threat of extermination, if she didn’t do what they wanted her to do. Life as a sex slave to a monster is something that nobody would want. They kept reminding here that she was nearing fourteen, and when she was fourteen, then her Master could take her and use her as he saw fit. The Mistress and son’s mother actually seemed pleased with the idea. Apparently the Mistress’s time with the Master wasn’t any more pleasant than the slave’s time with the Master.

Mark My Words – Stealth Commander, Second Class

The Stratagem