Chapter 8: Rebecca’s Arrival
About a year ago, John went out the back of the building and saw a slave chained to a whipping post. He knew she belonged to the laundry service next door. He was surprised because the laundry didn’t use the post often, and when they did they took the slaves down after the punishment. This one was bright red with big angry welts, with legs tied wide apart and suspended by her wrists, wearing a ball gag. The handle of a whip was shoved into her vagina, and the end of the whip was wrapped around her neck. It looked, by the way the blood had dried, that she had been there for hours.
John walked closer, examining the scene curiously. He wondered what she had done to warrant this, or whether someone had done it for fun.
Rebecca slowly came to. Her back and breasts were on fire, and everything hurt. Her arms were stretched out, and her feet were not touching the ground. Her jaw ached, and her mouth was full. Damn Joe, her boyfriend who she thought loved her, damn the slave master at the laundry, and damn everybody else, for that matter. This latest whipping had been the worst ever; it seemed to go on for hours. The slave master seemed to have gotten sick of her lip and her refusal to provide enjoyable sex. She wondered if finally she would be killed and escape this living hell. Then she thought that she wouldn’t ever be that lucky.
Rebecca was a pretty, if not beautiful, girl, slim and well-muscled, with medium breasts. Dark hair, brown eyes, and ivory skin set off a good frame. She had been a favorite of the laundry owners and supervisors until she had finally had enough and wanted released — to death. However, they thought that enough pain and suffering would break her and get her back to work. It hadn’t so far, and she hoped it wouldn’t take more months of agony before she could exit this hellish existence, even if it meant as meat.
She moaned and opened her eyes. She was on the post at the rear of the building; the slave master wasn’t there anymore, but the owner of the building next door was looking at her, with what looked like pity in his eyes. She thought it was nice, but unlikely to help her, so she dismissed it, closed her eyes, and prayed for death. She let her mind float, and the old spiritual came into her mind, “Let my people go…”.
John noticed that she had come to and opened her eyes briefly, but closed them again and seemed gone from the world. The slave master from the laundry came out and noticed him, then came over. He said, “She’s not really worth the effort. I think we’ll be sending her to Hill’s soon. I doubt that they will pay for her, but at least they’ll take her for free.”
“What’s the problem?” asked John.
“She worked OK for a while, but she shut down and did the minimum necessary to get fed. Our efforts to motivate her finally caused her to quit altogether. Some slaves never make the adjustment, and we have to dispose of them. Have you had that problem? You have one now,I understand.”
“No, I haven’t. If you are going to dispose of her, I could take her. I have too much for mine to do.”
“Take her. I’ll get the paperwork for you to get her transfered. She won’t work out for you, but you are welcome to try. Some people find it enjoyable; I find it exhausting and not worth the effort.”
John said, “Thanks. I’ll give it a shot.” He felt sick as he advanced and lowered the slave, then unchained her. She collapsed. He picked her up and carried her to his slave quarters.