Lawyer Ravished and Enslaved

Chapter 24 - The Zenith of the Plague

Monsieur, for the next year, the City of Orange was in stable pattern, run by a tripartite cabal made up of mobsters interested in making money off of sex, social Darwinists interested in pushing their agenda of forcing the types of people they wanted to reproduce to reproduce whether they wanted to reproduce or not, and religious fanatics, some of whom were really hucksters.

As to me personally, my sexiness and fertility were conserved with rigorous diet, exercise, careful avoidance of disease and medical treatment. Because both the sex faction and the fertility faction needed me to be healthy, my keepers were careful about who could have unprotected sex with me, requiring tests of customers and requiring condoms of all but the most trusted customers. I was a cow, but a prize cow that produced big money as a sex worker, milk and multiple births. Except on rare occasions when a customer was interested in talking to an intelligent woman, I was not called on to think much more than a cow. Given the situation, thinking was not helpful. I had escaped from freedom if that was what I ever wanted.

After the twins were born, Alice Wissen lost interest in me for a while. Apparently, under the deal among the factions that controlled my body, I was to be used to maximize prostitution profits for five or six months after my post-partum period. Alice turned to overseeing the impregnation of other women as well as her own career as a celebrity advocate for women to be baby makers.

Tucker decided I could spend the post-partum month recovering my mind as well as healing my body. I was allowed to read books and newspapers on computers or tablets. After I began seeing customers again, I received a variety of news particularly as this time the Pleasure Palace displayed many of us sex workers out in public.

The news I learned of Orange was not good. Although there was a small hint in a paper of a federal prosecutor opening an investigation of alleged tax irregularities at the brothels, the plague was at its height. The sex tourism business was reaching new peaks. The international advertising campaign was a huge success. The airport was expanding. Casinos, concert halls, convention centers and various sports venues were opening to amuse men between their visits to the brothels. This in turn caused all sorts of other businesses to prosper. Even people who fully understood the basis of this wealth, felt there was nothing to do but keep their mouth shut and cash their dividends. The fact that wages, particularly for women, were very low was noted only by a few dissidents. Even these dissidents were quiet about the low wages given their fear that they or their female relations might find themselves forced to work in the brothels supposedly as volunteers.

The brothels could hardly meet the demand. Even moderately attractive women were urged to become sex workers and even moderately desirable women who were not actively attached in a reproductive marriage had reason to fear that they might find themselves shanghaied to work at the Playground, Dick's Delight or the Pleasure Palace.

Because many of the local woman thought attractive were either in a traditional marriage or in a brothel and the cabal did not think they could press the local population too hard, the brothels started to import women from outside. Some of these foreign women knew more-or-less what they were getting into. Many, though, were lured to the city by promises of a job as a nurse, maid, or saleswoman, but were forced into the brothels after they arrived.

Along with poor Chad who was caught in bed with a gangster's girlfriend, a few women were sold overseas if they could not adjust to living in a brothel or no longer were attractive merchandise. Baytown had become a slave market for both import and export.

Another business that was booming was the sale of babies. That is not what it was called publicly, but people from other lands wanting children came to our city, stayed in nice hotels and paid large fees to adopt. Spencer's Helpers and the open racists prevented such exports as to the children that they identified as superior Ubermenschen but they actively supported sale of children from the area of town controlled by The Church and of poorer women throughout Orange.

Tucker told me that If any of the nice law-abiding outsiders adopting these children of sex slaves understood the circumstances and felt guilty, they could tell themselves that the scheme was not as bad as the adoptions of the children of people murdered by the military during Argentina's Dirty War in the 1970s. Unlike during the Dirty War, the mothers of these babies had not been murdered, merely enslaved. The fathers of the children adopted by people from overseas were reputable men in the community.

Anyway, most people did not know that women, like me, had been enslaved. Most of those that did know thought it was alright given the promiscuous nature of we women who were enslaved.

Kroesek never came back to town from his retirement and Mayor Murphy stayed out of town as much as he could. The Mayor seemed not want to see what he had helped create.

If Mayor Murphy had been in town, he would have seen Steffy, Adri, Saheeda, Donna, Connie Lake, me and others strutting into casinos and clubs wearing next to nothing, shaking our breasts and butts, and acting like nothing would give us more pleasure than to entertain a large group of overweight German engineers or loud insurance salesmen from Wisconsin. Our humiliation was complete.

We celebrity sex workers were the cream of the crop. Practice makes perfect. We had as much practice at sex as was imaginable. Also, although worse off in other respects, sex workers in other cities had not been so thoroughly forced to focus their lives on creating sexual pleasure. Customers enjoyed having women who had been completely broken in and trained to be purely sex objects and breeding animals. The fact that we were often lactating during the periods we were available for sex was seen as a plus by the Pleasure Palace and many customers.

Oh, Monsieur, to promote business at the brothels, we ladies put on quite a lot of bawdy shows for large adult audiences. One of the most grotesque of these shows was the bowling game.

I guess some of the mobsters had seen one of the several horrible movies involving women being raped with a bowling pin. Under the rules of the game that these guys made up, six women, two for each of the brothels, had to play a game for an audience in a bowling alley in which they started fully clothed in bowling league shirts and normal pants but had to take off an article of clothing whenever another women scored a strike. The woman with the lowest score when the second woman was stripped would have to masturbate with a bowling pin for the audience with the other naked woman to help her.

The event was heavily advertised and a big crowd was assembled. Someone had decided that I would represent the Pleasure Palace along with Karen Edwards. Priscilla and Jayda were the Playroom team and Sheila and Casandra were there for Dirk's Delight.

None of us were good bowlers. Priscilla and Jayda had never bowled before and Sheila had only done so once. Casandra, the former cheerleader, had natural athletic ability and got several spares and had the high score although she never got a strike.

We were told to try to keep the game light-hearted but we all tried to bowl the best we could. None of us was eager to have a bowling pin up our vagina, particularly not in front of an audience. While outwardly we were smiling, we pretty tense and competitive inside.

Surprisingly, Priscilla got the first strike and Jayda got the second but those lucky strikes were the only marks they got. With six players, we got to four frames in a second game when Sheila got the strike that cost me, Cassandra and Karen our panties. Priscilla, who'd gotten one strike and otherwise only gutterballs, clearly lost. So, Pricilla was the loser but two more of us were nude than the guys who designed this degrading game had anticipated.

Naturally, I did not see the problem. It just meant that there should be three helpers instead of one. But Jimmy for the Pleasure Palace, and guys representing the other two brothels decided that they needed to amend the rules to take care of this non-problem. Of course, they were just adding to the obscene show.

After the discussion, it was announced that the three nude women would play one game with the woman with the lowest score getting a bowling pin up her pussy and the second lowest helping her shove it in. The winner would help with Priscilla. Priscilla had to stay on the next lane on her back with her legs spread wide while we played with nothing to do but dread the impending assault.

Starting the game nude, all of us flopped around a great deal, me the worst with my DDs. Cassandra who could pick up spares, easily won the second game with a score over 120. Karen got a strike in the third frame that she wasted by guttering the next two balls. I was pretty happy about that but Karen's spare in the ninth frame was enough to have me on my back at the foot of a bowling lane, horrified at the indignity of this, knowing it would be on the Internet and wondering if having a bowling pin forced up my pussy would do permanent injury.

Jimmy said I should stay on the boards but turn my head to watch Priscilla get screwed with a bowling pin. I was very happy to hear suddenly the voice of Alice Wissen, protector of fertility. She seems to have come out of nowhere to begin cussing out the guys running the show. Alice insisted that Priscilla be heavily lubricated, that a large lubricated condom be put on the bowling pin and that the penetration be done very slowly and carefully.

Priscilla naturally hyperventilated and screamed a bit even though Cassandra worked the pin in very slowly, kind of spinning it. Pricilla's vagina and neighboring muscles had gotten a lot of stretching and exercise over the prior weeks. After a few minutes work, the head of the pin was in her and with a crowd of hundreds watching, Cassandra worked the pin in and out while using her thumb on Pricilla's clitoris until Pricilla had a very wet and loud orgasm. The pin was just left in her for a few minutes for the camera.

I was disgusted although I thought I was beyond caring. My muscles and vagina had even more experience than Pricilla's, having accommodated numerous fists and babies. I did not bother to cry or moan as Karen eased the damn thing up my pussy. I had a good showy orgasm for the audience as Karen worked the pin in my vagina.

Jimmy shared videos and pictures of me in ecstasy with a bowling pin up my pussy the following day as well as a report of the wonderful comments on the Pleasure Palace website. "The way to bowl Stacy over," one said.

These pictures and videos appeared along with numerous other porn pictures of us being milked, dancing in the nude, mud wrestling, being spanked, having fruit pushed in various orifices and other scenes calculated to titillate some and embarrass others. Steffy, Saheeda, Donna, Naki and I would have been famous pornstars if we had been pornstars at all.

We appeared to be collaborators although we were victims. We had no choice. We had to pretend to be enthusiastic prostitutes. Those of us who had been kidnapped were constantly watched, never let alone together, and often presented in the company of women who actually had volunteered. Even if I had been inclined to suffer martyrdom by trying to disclose that many women had been kidnapped, it would have achieved nothing.

I complained in private to Alice Wissen about my situation of having being constantly humiliated, having my body paraded around town as available for sex with anyone who paid and about the forced breeding. Complaining did no good. In addition to her usual line about how I had brought this on myself by failing to do my duty to procreate voluntarily, Alice now had a new explanation as to why I deserved no sympathy. "You are really much better off than noblewomen were for hundreds of years in Europe and elsewhere you know," Wissen explained. "With few exceptions, the queens of France, England and many other countries had no choice as to who they married, no real power, and were basically just breeders like you. They, though, were stuck with the same man all the time and it was treason if they took a lover even if their noble husband had mistresses. There were wet nurses for their babies so that they could get pregnant again right away and medical care was poor. Most died young. You get to have a lot of sex, you can enjoy a lot of it and you have lengthy periods in which you are not pregnant. If you'd like to dress up like Queen Anne from time to time, we could arrange that."

I hated such excuses. I did not want to live like a woman in the 16th Century. Just because I was being treated better off than protesters or reporters raped in a political prison cell in Chile, Iran or Syria was no justification for making me a sex slave. Also, I understood that the humiliation was done for a purpose, to prevent opposition to the mobster-run government, a horrible purpose for which I was being sacrificed.

I continued to receive a certain number of customers who wanted to abuse a female attorney. This could be very painful. The guys who blindfolded me and slowly just let me feel the whip or other device around my body never failed to fill me with terror despite the many times I had been in this scene. When the blow or the electrical charge finally came, it was almost a source of relief. It was generally less bad than what my mind had imagined. The sex that followed was always explosive with my body seemingly working on its own to put the pain behind it through new experiences.

As Orange had become a renowned center of sex tourism where the customer was almost always right, a number of special types of customers came to the Pleasure Palace. Some customers from out of town were interesting in that they wanted to engage in some sort of role play of things that they could not do where they lived. A favorite theme was a role play in which I played their subordinate or co-worker at their work place.

I came to the lobby dressed for office work, but, instead of taking me to my room or one of the Torture and Abuse rooms in the basement, the customer and I went to a mock office that the Pleasure Palace had set up for just this kind of customer. In this office, they would tell me to file things in a file cabinet, or type at a screen. While I pretended to work, the customer would come up behind me and squeeze my clothed breasts like it was a perfectly proper thing to do or pull my skirt up and my panties down so that they could screw me on the spot. Sometimes they wanted me to act upset by this manhandling but most often I was to accept it stoically. Some even told me to act as though I was thankful to be manhandled on the job.

One of the customers explained that in most of the world one might get in trouble for sexually assaulting a co-worker so it was great fun to act out doing that. I did not like the attitude but obviously I'd suffered much worse.

Men from Orange rarely asked to play this office harassment role play. I mentioned this contrast to a customer from our city. He said he did not have to pay to play that game because women in the office were pretty much fair game now in Orange. Women who did not want to suffer a sort amount of unsolicited touching at work should just stay home. "Let's face it," he said, "women either stay home and do what women should do or they do what you whores do. Whether a woman works in an office to make money on the side knowing this is going to expose her to a lot of horny men or enters one of the brothels like you did is just a matter of degree. Frankly, Stacy, I think that doing what you did, acknowledging yourself to be a slut and embracing that life, is more honest and more respectable."

I think he expected me to feel complimented. I was speechless.

Another customer of this period, Miles Lucik, was particularly disturbing. He had me meet him in the lobby nude, slapped handcuffs on my wrists and marched me to the elevator and one of the Torture and Abuse rooms using a flogger on me as we went. Assuming I was Jewish, he started screaming anti-semitic abuse at me as soon as we got in the room and pushed me face down on the wooden table. He administered a very vigorous doggy style fucking without a trace of emotion or the least concern for how I might feel. After coming in me like I was a fruit, he said that he did not see why the all the people who did not belong in the City were not just told to get out of the town. Men who did not leave could be shot and thrown over the bridge. Women could be taken to a cheap hotel, used like they were used in Visegrad and sent out of town as pregnant widows and orphans. He said that if you don't want your folk to be replaced, you have make sure that no replacements come to stay. If the place is already full of undesirables, ethnic cleansing is necessary.

Lucik added, "To stop being replaced, you also have to keep your own women breeding enough to supply local leadership, respectable male civic leaders and professionals, not cunts like you were. They must also breed workers and foot soldiers. This requires more than stopping abortions in Orange. You also have to stop women from leaving Orange, getting an abortion, and coming back. You also must stop birth control and make sure the women are seeded whether they want it or not. Women left to make their own decisions just don't have enough children to maintain the folk."

I was happy I would not be among those seeded by him although I didn't know if the rich guys impregnating me who thought they were genetically superior, were a whole lot better.

The reign of terror that occurred within the city I am sad to relate often involved women betraying each other. Women seeking career advancement or to get a man before they thought they might be grabbed, would set up their rivals for being taken by the brothels. Generally, this started with Internet "Ex-Girlfriend" videos or pictures showing that the target had been very sexually active at some time in the past. This was followed with forged web posts made to look like they like they were from the victim. The posts would say the victim was thinking of entering one of the brothels because she just could not get enough sex otherwise.

The brothel owners knew just what was going on. As to women on which they thought they could make a profit, the victim might be taken without ever knowing what she had done to attract attention. Much of the public accepted that women who had committed indiscretions when drunk or young would kindly become sex workers.

The highest profile kidnappings during this period were those of Television Sex Therapist Dr. Connie Hunt who had somehow managed to escape the city during the initial kidnapping spree, and of South American singer Tatiano Grosso.

Dr. Hunt was kidnapped and brought back from France to become a sex worker in the Pleasure Palace. Jimmy was particularly proud of this. It seems it grieved Nitto, Pleasure Palace manager Tom Sklaver and a number of other of those in control of Orange that such a prominent, attractive woman who was known for teaching people how to loosen up and enjoy sex had eluded their grasp. It seemed to harm their message that slutty women naturally volunteered to be sex workers that a woman so known for her free love lifestyle would pass up an opportunity to practice what she preached. The many differences between free love and sex work had eluded them.

Dr. Hunt had found a job in the University of Nice teaching classes in human sexuality. A whole group of students and faculty had formed around her. It had become tres chic to participate in parties at the homes of various friends she had made which frequently turned into orgies. Among her many affairs, Hunt formed a complex relationship with another woman, Michelle. While Dr. Hunt continued to make love to various persons, Michelle became increasingly obsessed with Hunt. This led Michelle's husband, Jacque Pierre, to become extremely jealous.