The Wild West and Sex Slavery

Chapter 8 -- The Big NOLA Auction and Dangerous Investigations

THE NIGHT BEFORE

Neck drove Lena to New Orleans across Mississippi and the long bridge into the city. New Orleans in 2045 was almost an island with most of the delta now underwater. Parts of the city had already been surrendered to the Gulf of Mexico, leaving above water the old downtown and Garden District and a few other areas that were a bit higher than much of the city. The permanent population was only 250,000. The city had two major industries: tourism and the sex boats.

"Of course, Storyville is long gone and 'Walk on the Wild Side' wouldn't be the same today," Neck explained as they drove. "There is still some illegal prostitution in the city, and there are three sex boats permanently moored at Algiers near the city in mainly salt water. The Free States' central confederate government and the Free State of Louisiana have an uneasy relationship with the City of New Orleans, but what else is new? The preachers runnin the country would like New Orleans to be as well-behaved as the rest of the country, but they know that that would kill the golden goose. New Orleans still has a magic coating of beautifully ripened sin. That sin brings people in from around the world but won't do so if the same rules apply here as in Idaho and Alabama. So, New Orleans still has sin. Sort of 1950s-style sin except on the boats.

"The sex boats have their corporate headquarters here. Everyone agreed on that. New Orleans wanted the business, and the confederate and state governments were happy to have all this wonderful nastiness out of the way, practically out to sea.

"We'll be stayin at an old hotel on Toulouse Street. Most of the buyers for the boats and the sheriffs selling women stay here as it is very close to the auction house.

"I got some biziness tonight with guys from the boats, so you'll have to amuse yourself."

Lena did not want to be at the business meeting until Neck excluded her from it. "Why is not your assistant to be at the meeting with you?"

"Cause you ain't really my assistant an I got shit to discuss that I don't want an investigative reporter to hear." Neck answered. "An hell, you plum worn me out. If I let you go to the meetin, you'll want to fuck afterward, and baby I ain't got that much jam left."

Lena was about to argue more when she decided that she would really rather have a night to herself on the town than sit at a table and discuss the business of buying sex slaves for sex boats. "Are we meeting for breakfast, or how is your assistant going to get into the auction?"

"I gotta get there early. The auction starts at 9:00, and I will leave your name at the door. The building where the auction is held is at St. Louis and Chartes Street in a big ugly, institutional-lookin building that was built after something nice was destroyed by a hurricane. There's a holding tank nearby if you want to hear the deputies whip the women just about midnight," Neck said with a chortle.

Lena did not catch the reference and did not like the mental picture.

"One last question," Lena said, "a sheriff deputy a couple days ago knew my name. How is that?"

"Who was the deputy?"

"He said he was Cyrus Seele, a kind of funny name; Seele means 'soul' in German'"

"It don't mean nothing in English, and the fact that Deputy Seele knows you isn't a big cause for worry. Fact that I have a very attractive foreign lady travelin with me is probably known to a lot of people. It's a small world an you had me go through all sorts of towns with sheriffs active in the auctions. Almost nobody will give a shit about you, though, unless you are up for sale.

"Seele is an outlier. He is sort of a scholar among the deputies who show up at auctions. Nobody, including his boss, Sheriff Tauro, knows this, but I don't think he likes the whole slave business much."

"How do you know that?"

"I smooze with everybody, honey. I drink with the boat buyers. I drink with the boat owners. I drink with the auctioneers, and I drink with the competitors, be they in the form of the sheriffs or, rarely, the bankers. Hell, I even have dinner with crazy journalists in Hamburg when I think it will help me bring more customers to my paintball gunfights."

"What has Seele done that made you think he does not like the business?"

"His frowns during the auctions when many of the women are sold. Mainly, though, I know he don't like the bizness cause he told me in a bar when it was just him and me that he thought the whole business of arrestin women to put them on the boats was totally fucked up, and he was disgusted to have anythin to do with it. Hell, he's even worse than Killer, who is pretty disgusted with indentured servitude in the Free States but generally bites his tongue cause Killer, in his way, is even more cynical than me.

"Both Killer and Seele will follow orders. But, Seele ain't goin to give you no trouble if he thinks you are givin the sheriffs trouble."

Lena kept quiet about Deputy Seele's offer to help her and said, "OK, I was just concerned that the police are keeping track of us."

"Course, they are, but, like I said, they ain't gonna do nothin until you give em a reason to do so an you ain't gave em a reason yet. You go threatenin their racket, and all hell'll break loose. If you gotta run a story before you are out of the Free States, don't go after the lawmen. You can go after the bankers if you want."

After they checked in and Lena changed into the most revealing dress she could wear without violating Free States rules, she wandered out into the French Quarter. She saw a few women dressed somewhat more provocatively than what Lena had been told was allowed in the Free States. Being nosey, unafraid, and always willing to be offensive, she walked up to mulatto woman in a short skirt and tank top and said, "Excuse me, I'm a foreign tourist, and I was told that one could not wear clothing like you are wearing in the Free States under God."

"You can't wear this in most of the country, particularly if you are a pretty blond like you and don't want to get stuck on a sex boat and become a sex slave and babymaker."

Lena put on her best dumb and incredulous look.

"Of course," the local woman said, "they probably wouldn't grab a foreigner unless they knew no one was protecting her, and anyway, in New Orleans, the cops don't hassle tourists or even local women unless they do something bad. Our thighs and tank top boobs are part of the scenery for the tourists here, the best the town's got since the prudes shut down all the naked titty bars. I'm on my way to work as a waitress and can take you to someplace loud that drunken college boys and salesmen like if you want that."

"Loud is not exactly what I'm looking for."

"Then go to Frenchmen Street. It ain't what it used to be before the big storms and the national divorce, but there's still some pretty good music and bars quiet enough for a woman to hear herself think."

Lena went and did have a pretty good time drinking a beer formerly called Blackened Voodoo and listening to the music on the street and in the bars. Most of the bands were doing jazz versions of old church hymns (not including "Amazing Grace").

Nothing fundamentally wrong with jazz based on gospel, Lena thought. A lot of jazz came out of gospel, or was it the other way around?

Coming back to the French Quarter at about 22:30, Lena wandered about the neighborhood of the hotel a bit. She remembered what Neck said about where the auction was and the pens where they held the women the night before. It could not hurt to check out the location in advance, Lena thought.

Lena did not have a hard time finding a building labelled Central Indentured Servant Marketing and Management Center. Not too subtle, Lena thought. She saw a parking lot nearby into which there was crowded about 15 sheriffs' cars from counties all over the nearby Free States.

Yes, I found the right place, Lena thought. I do not expect to hear them whip the women just about midnight, but maybe I can find where the women are. It would be informative if I could see the holding cells.

Finding the place that the women were was not difficult as several sheriffs and sheriff deputies were walking into one of the doors facing St. Louis Street. I am sure I could get in there by just taking off all my clothing and appearing at that door, Lena joked to herself while glad she had dressed modestly.

After observing that no one was watching the door, Lena sneaked in behind a sheriff. I am in my prim and proper Free States clothing with everything covered like a good Free States woman. If I get caught inside, I will say that I am a dumb tourist, that I drank too much, and really needed a WC.

Lena need not have worried about being caught because no one was expecting people to wander into the building after hours. Lena saw no one in the entranceway but heard voices down a hall. Lena walked down the hall and could see that there were doors to a sort of auditorium that she was pretty sure was the auction room. Peeking into the hall from the doorway, Lena saw the backs of the heads of a few officers, a group of about three dozen nude women kneeling on the floor facing away from her and a standing nude woman who looked to be in her late 40s beginning to address the group. The kneeling women were handcuffed, and Lena could see that some of them were gagged.

The standing woman began, "First, let me introduce myself. I am Cassie Chadham, and I have spent eight years on the Moulin Rouge boat in penal servitude after being convicted of forgery for writing numerous checks to myself with my employer's signature. I was 40 when I was convicted. I have had three children conceived on the Moulin Rouge. I have been fucked by more men than I can possibly remember. I am still subject to years of penal servitude, and I will probably have more children given the wonder drugs now available. Tomorrow night, I will be back to my regular job, on my back and knees, on the Moulin Rouge for the entertainment of numerous boat customers. I generally provide sex to about ten men a day.

"But part of what I am doing in servitude now is instructing women on how to survive as an indentured servant on a sex boat. I will be giving those of you who don't land on a strict bondage boat that lecture in a couple of days.

"Tonight, however, I have been invited to talk to you about how to act during the auction tomorrow. I am going to give you the straight story without any crap to make it go down prettier. If you want to cry now, fine, but for reasons I am going to explain, don't do it tomorrow.

"Me giving this lesson is something new for this auction. It is a bit unusual that I am here because I am held in servitude by the Moulin Rouge, which is going to be one of the bidders tomorrow. In fact, the Moulin Rouge is being compensated for the time tonight I'm not on my back or presenting my tail by the Quality Boat Owners' Association, which includes the owners of all the boats except the Sultan, Queen Anne's Revenge and Iron Mikes. Those three boats are what we call the rough or strict bondage boats.

"But why would the Quality Boat Owners be telling women how to act for the auction? The reason is that, while the boat owners want to pay as little for the use of your asses as possible, they are worried that women don't understand the process and that is making it harder for the Quality Boat Owners to decide which women belong on the fancy boats, which women belong on the mid-class boats, which women belong on the low-end all-you-can-fuck boats, and which women have to go on a boat where they are female meat that can only be used in strict bondage.

"This lack of understanding is causing many women to behave at the auction in a way that the owners of the boat can't see how the women will perform on the boats. It is as though beauty contest contestants did not understand the judging and tried to look as ugly as possible during the contest while the judges had to guess who the most beautiful women were.

"The problem is that all you bitches have gone through at least 18 years of life being told that you had to be chaste, that you should only enjoy sex after you have married a good Christian man and then only while engaging in reproductive sex in the missionary position. But that crap is all over for you, woman, and you've got to adjust right away. Your body is going to be used for the pleasure of many men and for breeding little bastards one way or another. The question is only how.

"Yes, I know, some of you think you are innocent and shouldn't be here. I don't know, but I do know it doesn't make a bit of difference. YOU ARE FUCKED. Just get I AM FUCKED through your heads and realize that no one wants to hear about your feelings of victimhood, injustice, depression, modesty, or unhappiness. If you insist on voicing such feelings, you are only going to get more reasons for depression and unhappiness. If you want to be as happy as possible for the next god-knows-how-long, your job tomorrow is to show that you can be a hot, wanton slut that will do just fine pleasing men on a high-class boat and make a lot of money for the boat that owns you.

"I was more guilty of real crime than many of you, but still, I did not and do not think what happened to me was fair. But I know it does not matter. I know that nothing I can do in the way of protesting, crying or whining will help me or anyone else.

"Tomorrow, you are going to be sold to some boat or possibly some incredibly rich dude who can pay many millions of bucks for his own personal sex slave. You probably won't love it wherever you go. You get fucked by whoever pays on all of the boats. Even on the high-class boats, women are sometimes whipped and fucked in bondage, particularly if they get out of line. But I can guarantee you that you're a lot more likely to be moderately happy on a high-end boat after receiving a lot of high bids than on a low-end boat where you are a cheap cunt.

"I can't tell you much about what it's like to be a woman on a strict discipline boat. For that, I've brought a woman who was sent to Queen Anne's Revenge, Mildred Cally, who was sold to the Revenge in August. She was there for only two months before she became one of the few women ever to go to a rough boat and get off alive. Mind you, I'm not saying that most of the women bought by rough boats have died. Most of them are still on the boats. But more women who went to those boats are now at the bottom of the Mississippi than are off the boat. But Millie, why don't you tell them what happened."

A pretty small woman emerged from the darkness behind Cassie Chadham. She had very pretty breasts, dark black hair, alabaster white skin and grey eyes. She radiated enthusiasm for the presentation she was about to make.

Millie began, "I am not going to complain about my lot. I'll just say that I was a mixer and a fornicator. But what I'm here to tell you is that I stupidly protested vigorously against being arrested, resisted the gang rape at the jail, and objected strenuously to being sold. The result of this was that I was presented at the August auction in a gag and went for only $75,000.

"As soon as they took the gag off after the sale, I realized I had made a terrible mistake acting so proud. I should accept the fate that God gave me. Part of what woke me up was a sort of old guy there with some fancy woman for sale from Europe. He eyed me during the whole of my auction, looking sad and shaking his head as if to say, 'What a waste.' As I was about to be branded, a guard for Queen Anne's Revenge told me that the brand would hurt like hell but added, with glee, that the pain and degradation would get a lot worse on the boat. He said he was pulling my gag off so I could get used to screaming. He laughed.

"To his surprise, I said that I had had a revelation after being sold. I must humbly accept my fate. I asked only that he not brand me in a way that might detract from the pleasure of men who wanted to screw me. I said I realized that I was worth nothing except as a piece of meat to be enjoyed by whoever would pay. I did my best to suppress my screams as the 'QAR' brand was placed on my ass to match the 'T' brand on my shoulder.

"The sadistic guard was disappointed I did not cuss and scream more. The buyer told the guard to make sure there wasn't more damage to me than necessary as there might be a profitable re-sale opportunity down the road.

"My realization that resisting and crying were not the right thing to do came too late to save me from the worst two months of my life. The Revenge boat kept me and the other women alive and healthy in some ways but did not spend a dime to keep us happy. They did not care because they did not make any money off us being happy. We were presented to the customers in bondage, unable to move except for the muscles inside our pussies and mouths. The customers could torture us if they paid a bit extra and were charged by the electro-shock or lash administered. Some wealthy sadists left me wishing I were dead.

"We were not entirely without moments of pleasure. A few guys actually tried to have us enjoy the sex. I had many orgasms that I enjoyed. More often, though, guys engaged in some form of forced orgasms that would start out nice but continue until we were past the point of exhaustion.

"Some of the guys were there just to torture and did not engage in sex at all. The customers are not allowed to kill, mutilate, or do any other permanent physical damage, but those rules weren't well enforced. Once a month, there was a health inspection, but the inspectors were bribed not to see too much. Every once in a while, they'd report a scar or a burn just to make it seem like they were doing something.

"The food was the human equivalent of dry cat food with all the necessary ingredients to keep us healthy but nothing to give pleasure. We slept in cages no larger than necessary for us to not suffer muscle injuries or die from lack of sleep. Pain, though, can be very tiring.

"Fortunately for me, I had a few opportunities to show I could be fully cooperative. At first, it was just a few customers who, after whipping me for a while, asked the QAR if it would be OK to let me out of strict bondage for a few minutes. Whenever they did that, I made clear that I would gladly do anything the man wanted.

"Later, the buyer who bought me at the auction told the Queen Anne's management that they might be able to resell me to a boat that needed more women than the market was supplying. Of course, he made a commission off that, too, but I don't care if someone makes a profit off my body anymore. I thank the Lord every day that I am on a boat where I'm at least treated like a valuable animal.

"Let me tell you, ladies, you do not want to go to one of the rough boats," Millie said before she broke down crying.

Cassie Chadham took that as the cue to say, "Ladies, if you think God wants you to act chaste and religious at the auction tomorrow, ask yourself why God has let you go up for sale. I'm not telling you to act like cheap whores, though. No ladies do your best to act like expensive whores. Most men are wicked assholes, but most men like to think that they are halfway decent people. Act like you have to be courted a bit but that you'll be the hottest babe on earth once a big, strong man like the customer you are with shows he wants you.

"Unless you are really beautiful in the eyes of the buyers, acting like you are willing to cooperate probably won't be enough to get you on one of the fancy boats where the women have nice rooms, and most customers have some class. But showing you will do what you can to help the boat make money might keep you from being treated like an animal with nice holes for men to masturbate into.