were the first stories I read on Literotica, and stand as some of my all-time favorites. I want to give credit to Velcrofist for two ideas I have incorporated into this story. The first is Simon's speech pattern. This was inspired by his character Joe Bloccato's speech pattern and is a tribute to that character, though taken to the extreme. Also, the chapter titling I use is a direct homage to his titling in
Emily 2.0
. I want to thank him for introducing me to this site.
Finally, I have taken some literary license with certain aspects, specifically recovery time for addictions and various physical injuries. I absolutely realize that recovering from addictions, brandings, and other issues take much longer than I set forth in this story. The acceleration of recovery is solely to provide movement in the story.
Please remember, this story is not to written to titillate but rather examine slavery from a different angle. I hope I don't disappoint too many of you.
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Chapter 1- Mother
My name is Claude Breaux, and I truly hate how our country has given up its values and embraced slavery. Judicial slavery has only been established for about forty years, but the amount of harm it has done is immeasurable. I could go into all the reasons, logical arguments, debates, and propaganda associated with our new system of slavery, and to be honest I do kind of agree that there have been some benefits to the system. Still, the question of if the benefits outweigh the harm is very clear in my opinion. It does not. That is why I find it hard to believe I own a large number of slaves today.
Now before everyone starts screaming at the hypocrisy of my opening statements, please bear with me as I tell my story. I do understand that most of the country believes in the institution of judicial slavery. Hell, the common belief of "if a person commits the crime, they should do the time", existed long before slavery was reimplemented. To prevent overcrowding of the prisons, (and let's be honest, provide more taxable opportunities for the government), judicial slavery solves a lot of problems. Crime is down, victims are able to get some compensation for themselves, and most believe the system works. That is except when it was a family member or close friend who was enslaved. Losing a family member to slavery can have horrible repercussions. I should know, it happened to me. This is my story. The only request I have is for you to listen with an open mind. At the end, I will accept whatever opinion you may have of me.
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To begin, and I apologize as this will take a while, I should tell you about myself and how I ended up in this situation. My childhood, especially my teens and early twenties, are essential for understanding where I came from and why I have the beliefs I do. I came from a rather wealthy family in Louisianna. We were "old money" or "generational wealth", and all my immediate family had reasonably large trust funds. These trusts were originally established by my grandfather. He was a firm believer that a man's worth was his ability to make something of himself. "Pappy" set the trusts up so all our college educations were covered, but we would see no real money until our 25
th
birthday. My father was a strong believer in this philosophy. My older brother, sister and I were expected to already be established before we had access to such a large sum of money. Many times, my father would give a speech to the three of us while sitting around the dinner table.
"Having a lot of money, but no power, is useless," he would begin, looking each of us straight in the eyes. "Setting yourself up as a leader will prove more valuable than all the money in world. All you need to do is look at all those other trust fund babies who just sit around partying, doing drugs, and basically living a hedonistic lifestyle. Are they comfortable? Sure, but can they affect any real change? Can they command the respect of others? Are they happy? They may think they are, but most are just surrounding themselves with sycophants who will leave them when the next best thing comes around."
I must admit that while I did not agree with the need for power, I did agree with the idea that we should be able to support ourselves, with or without the trust funds. But that is where my father's beliefs stopped aligning with my own. While I did not share most of the ideas that were firmly ingrained within my family, I was smart enough to keep quiet about it. At least for a while.
My brother and sister, fraternal twins Jason and Sherry, were seven years older than me. By the time they went off to college, both were firm believers in my father's philosophy. Jason chose pre-law, while Sherry was pre-med. I was eleven at the time they went to college and was suddenly the center of attention in the house. Over the next three years, my parents devoted their time to ensuring I was going to be set up for success.
My father made it his mission to install a "strong work ethic". Getting good grades was a must. I could face strict repercussions if I brought home less than an A. Sports were another important factor for my father. He had been a very solid basketball player throughout high school and college. He believed the teamwork shown in sports built a foundation for future success. I was not cut out for most team sports, but did have a love of swimming. While the teamwork was not as strong as I would get in a sport like football or basketball, I was good at it, and he did admit it was not just a solo endeavor. We may compete individually, but we were a team. Work was another important factor. Even at eleven he believed we needed to work. There aren't many jobs for a skinny eleven-year-old, but every weekend I was out mowing lawns, caddying at the local country club, or doing odd jobs for friends of the family.
My mother, however, was not as concerned about my work ethic as she was about my ethical development as a person. On my thirteenth birthday she sat me down alone in my room and told me, "Your father has it half right. Money without power IS useless. But power without compassion is tyranny. You only need to look at where this country is heading to see this. There are so many powerful people right now that have no compassion nor empathy. They make the laws, manipulate the laws, and hand down punishments with no regard for the long-term effects. This new judicial slavery is a mess. They played upon the fears of the nation, implemented a system that conformed to mob mentality, and just publicized the successes. They don't care about the abuse, just the power they have gained. I'm not just talking about politicians, lawyers and judges. Doctors are creating full practices just around slavery. We are seeing whole industries being created around this. Slave markets are making a killing, accounting firms have all started to have new divisions that deal specifically with these 'slave estates', and just about every other profession has found a way to capitalize on the new laws. And you better believe that at every turn the government is finding a way to tax and get their share of this new wealth.
"What I am trying to tell you is that the more power you obtain, the more empathy you need. Power is a responsibility. Those in power have the responsibility to protect those without. Unfortunately, more and more in power see it as their duty, even their right, to rule over those without power. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?" I told her I did, but if I am being honest with myself, I didn't truly understand for another year.
Looking back now, this conversation with my mom was her attempt at some kind of redemption she was trying to achieve for herself. I loved my mom, and to this day I still believe she was one of the kindest, most generous souls to ever walk this planet. But she felt she had failed her kids. She saw how my siblings were embracing power. Even in their junior year of college, they were already on the fast track to become very successful. They were top of their respective classes, belonged to all the important and prestigious clubs, and were looking at graduating early. Jason had already scored very well on his LSATs, and Sherry had just taken the MCATs. Their scores were high enough that they could pretty much pick their choice of law and med schools. However, every time they came home to visit, I could see my mother becoming more and more distressed at the "type" of person they were becoming.
Even at my age I could see that they were becoming more and more self-centered. To them, they were born to shape the future. They were the chosen ones to dictate how those "below" them would live. It was their "right", based on their hard work. I believe with all my heart my mom tried to instill a sense of empathy and compassion in them, but I think they just bought into my father's belief too strongly at that time.
