Enslaved Love In The Future Pt 01

To hold and be held

Nav Bushnell barely recognized the face he saw in the mirror. He'd grown tired of himself. He wanted to be different. Better. He'd lived too long.

He would buy a slave.

It wasn't that Nav was a bad man. He was a good man who'd led a good life. He had many friends and no enemies. Like many people his age, he increasingly felt that he'd done everything he'd ever hoped to do. Seen everything he'd hoped to see. Felt everything he'd hoped to feel. After almost 200 years, Nav was getting so tired of himself that more and more parts of his life seemed redundant. Pointless. Depressing.

People who knew little about slavery imagined it to be a way obscenely wealthy people obtained sex slaves that were powerless to resist the perverted will of their masters. There were probably people who wanted slaves for that very reason, but there was no way they could buy one. When slavery was re-instituted, regulations required that it be very different from the slavery of the past.

A lot of people asked why this peculiar institution should be allowed to exist again. This was a stupid question, revealing that the people asking were fundamentally ignorant of the way the world actually works. All governments were controlled by oligarchs. Even nations that still pretended to be democracies existed mainly to provide loopholes, deductions, subsidies, exemptions and contracts to make the rich richer. Trillionaires owned almost everything, including all governments, and they wanted to be able to own slaves. So it was arranged.

It was hard to argue with their logic. After all, lots of exploited people in many industries lived as slaves anyway. Why not regulate slavery to make it better for the slaves? Besides, oligarchs owned chains of islands, collections of mansions, fleets of spacecraft, and security forces bigger than some national armies. Why shouldn't they own people?

Everyone knew there was no demand for the old-fashioned types of slaves that performed routine labor. It was cheaper to just pay wages for that. What buyers wanted were companions. As the oligarchs sought increasingly elaborate ways to satisfy every whim, the desire for alluring and compliant partners became too hard to resist. Genetic engineers had perfected the techniques that eliminated aging and insured perfect health. Cosmetic surgeons could make anyone attractive. It was a simple matter to tweak the genetic code in ways that produced slaves who were extraordinarily beautiful, had high sex drives, and who derived satisfaction from giving their owners pleasure.

It took a lot of money to raise slaves. They required 18 years to reach physical and mental maturity before they could be offered for sale, and special care was needed to protect their virginity. They needed education, including etiquette, the art of conversation, fashion, fitness, and (in the case of female slaves) how to walk gracefully in high heels. They were engineered to have very high intelligence, exceptional athletic abilities, and even artistic potential; by the time they were sold, all slaves were proficient in several forms of performance art, and they understood the basics of skills ranging from interior design to assembling a stylish wardrobe. They had a rudimentary education in the liberal arts, but their Masters were expected to provide higher education. Slaves were bred to be intellectually curious and to enjoy learning, making them very appealing conversationalists.

One particular area of study was kept from them. They were taught nothing about sex. One of the most appealing reasons for buying a slave was acquiring a beautiful young virgin with a deep desire and curiousity about sex, but no knowledge or experience of it. Owners got to provide this education themselves, letting them share their slaves' first romantic experiences of all kinds, and letting them shape their sexualities to match their own desires. All slaves were completely bisexual and capable of acquiring virtually any desire or kink, guaranteeing that owners could enjoy a lifetime of whatever erotic experiences they desired.

Nav Bushnell had grown bored of romance. For almost two centuries, he'd pursued relationships with a wide range of beautiful, fascinating women. He was handsome, vigorous, and immortal if he managed to avoid accidents. He possessed the most attractive trait of all - immense wealth - so he had no trouble attracting whatever kind of women he wanted.

But there was one type he'd never experienced. Nav had never been with a completely innocent woman, and the idea grew increasingly appealing as the years went by. He wanted a chaste, innocent girl. He wanted to teach her everything about love, he wanted her complete devotion, and he wanted to give her his heart.

The plantations that bred and reared slaves were usually located on tropical islands with cooperative governments and enough isolation to let the slaves mature in a paradisiacal environment that kept out unwanted influences and individuals. Nav spoke to several slaves in online conversations. These meetings were almost as good as in-person discussions, where they sat in comfortable chairs with what looked like a floor-to-ceiling sheet of glass separating them. They could see and hear each other perfectly, and the illusion of sitting next to each other made it easy to have intimate conversations even though they were thousands of kilometers apart.

Meena was one of the first girls Nav met. She was lovely, but all slaves were lovely. Still, she seemed particularly appealing. She was tall, with long brown hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. Generous breasts. Athletic muscularity that gave shapliness to every curve. Light brown skin that looked almost luminous. The face of a goddess. She proved that genetic engineers had mastered their craft.

"Meena, what would you like to do with me if I bought you?

"I'd want to do whatever you want to do," she said.

Of course. That's the way slaves think. He'd have to phrase it another way to get a real answer.

"One thing I want to do is make sure we do things that you find to be especially rewarding. What do you enjoy most, Meena?"

Posing the question like that gave Nav what he was looking for. "I'd like to pursue my music," she said.

Ah! An answer! "Are you a musician?" Nav asked.

"I try," she said. "I love making music."

"Do you play an instrument?" I asked.

"I play several instruments. And I sing."

"That sounds wonderful. Would you sing a song for me?"

"Of course," she said. She got up and walked out of the camera's field of view, returning a few seconds later with a portable keyboard. "One of my favorite musicians is a singer named Ella Fitzgerald," Meena said. "This was one of her songs."

Meena began playing the piano. Beautifully. But things got really amazing when she began to sing.

There's somebody I'm longing to see

I hope that he turns out to be

Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood

I know I could always be good

To one who'll watch over me

It was beautiful. The name Ella Fitzgerald wasn't familiar to Nav. To him, the old song was new. It went on for several more verses, and Meena sang with such artful expression that Nav felt his heart melt. She became radiant as she sang. Hearing her perform transported Nav to a place where everything was wonderful.

"Meena, that was amazing," Nav said when she finished.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "I try."

"People need to hear you. Your music is wonderful and should be shared," he said.

"That is my dream," Meena said.

"It's a wonderful dream," Nav said. "Meena, if things work out, and I become your Master, I promise I will do everything I can to make your dream become real."

Meena was quiet for a moment. "That would be very nice," she said softly. Meena knew she would be a good slave to whoever bought her, and that it was presumptuous for her to hope any particular bidder won. Still, she couldn't help noticing that Nav seemed kind and thoughtful. She thought there was something sad about him. It would be nice to make him smile.

Nav did his due diligence. He interviewed other girls. They were all amazing, of course. That's how slaves are engineered. Nav saw that he could be happy with any of them, but he never seriously considered bidding on anyone but Meena. She was the one he wanted to own for the rest of his life, the one who'd give him the special bond between master and slave.

Slave auctions are always held on the day they reach 18, the age of consent. That makes celebrating birthdays particularly special, because the birthday is also the anniversary of enslavement. It gives Masters and slaves two reasons to mark the day.

Nav hired a licensed agent to bid for Meena on his behalf. It took a bit of skill to bid correctly, and having agents meant buyers were less likely to get so emotional they bid more than they planned. When Nav told the agent how much he was willing to bid for Meena, the agent smiled. "No one has ever paid that much for a slave. Never. You must really want this girl."

"I do," Nav said. "I've been thinking of her constantly. She is very special."

"Glad to hear it," the agent said. "The regulations require that I ask this question. What do you want me to do if the bidding goes higher than what you've identified as your maximum? It's important that you decide now, not when you've in a bidding war. Do you want me to stop, or should I ask for permission to go higher?"

"Ask," Nav said. "I don't want anyone else to get this girl."

"Considering the amount you are willing to bid, that isn't very likely," the agent said.

As required by law, Nav flew to the island where the auction took place. The agent took Nav to a seat in the middle of the room. "Nervous?" asked the agent.

"Petrified," Nav said.

The agent chuckled. "It's a big purchase," he said. "It's the most important purchase you'll ever make."

"If you're trying to get me to relax, it's not working," Nav said.

Five minutes before the auction was to begin, the last bidders entered the room. "This is odd," the agent said. "There are 27 registered bidders."

"That's odd?" Nav asked.

"The previous record was 23," the agent said. "I think the average is 11. The registration fee is high enough to discourage idle specatators. A lot of people are very interested in this girl."

"Terrific," Nav said.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to ask yourself if you want me to bid higher than we discussed."

Nav thought about it. "I guess you can do another ten percent."

"Okay. But that is very unlikely. The final price is almost certainly going to be well below your maximum."

"Almost certainly," Nav said.

"Anything is possible," the agent said.

Nav looked at Meena, who seemed equal parts beautiful and nervous. It was certain that her future owner would be a kind, generous person - the screening process guaranteed that. But as Nav looked at the range of men and women bidders, he tried to imagine what it felt like for Meena to be so powerless about something that would determine the rest of her life. He would come to understand that being powerless came naturally to slaves, who craved being told what to do.

After a painfully long moment, the auctioneer appeared at the podium. "I'd like to welcome you to the auction of a charming young woman known as Meena. All bidders have had a chance to speak with Meena and review her particulars, so you know what a wonderful opportunity you have today. All bids are final. All bidders are required to conform to the international accords on Master responsibilities. Entering bids signifies that you have read the user agreement, agree to binding arbitration over any conflicting issues, and that you forfeit all rights of ownership if you violate any of these terms. Let's begin. Shall we start the bid at 10? Who'll bid 10 for the lovely Meena?"

It took a surprising amount of time for anyone to enter a bid. Nav hoped this meant the final bid would be moderate. But the bidding escalated to 25 in less than a minute. "Is this a bad sign?" Nav asked the agent.

"Yes," the agent said.

Soon it was 30. 35. 40. There was a long pause when the bidding got to 43; no one had ever paid for that much for a slave. The auctioneer paused when someone bid 45. "We are in uncharted territory, my friends," he said. Looking at Meena, he said, "It seems that a lot of people hold you in very high regard, young lady." Meena blushed.

"Let's find out exactly how high," the auctioneer said.

Most of the bidders dropped out at 50. They'd exceeded their maximum, and watching more was just an exercise in self flagellation. It came down to three: Nav, a very handsome gentleman of African descent, and a stunningly lovely woman with pure white hair, pale skin, and the serenity of a queen. She may have been a queen. Lots of oligarchs held titles. Titles were often on sale for very affordable prices.

The woman bid 55. Nav's maximum was 63.

"Think carefully about what you want to do," Nav's agent said. "Don't imagine yourself in competition with the other bidders. The only thing you should think about is how much you are willing to pay."

The man bid 59. Several seconds went by before Nav's agent bid 60. "We are so far above the old record that I don't know what to tell you," Nav's agent said.

"I have no trouble going to 65," Nav said.

The woman bid 63. The other man dropped out. It was just Nav and the regal woman. "Go ahead," Nav said. His agent bid 65.

Nav saw the woman's lips moving. She was apparently having a conversation with her agent. "She must be above her maximum," Nav's agent said. "This is where things get interesting."

Things were already much too interesting. Nav's heart was pounding so hard he imagined that the agent could hear it. He was sweating. He looked at Meena's face, and thought that she must be working hard to avoid showing too much emotion. It had to be strange for any girl to sit and listen to people bid for a chance to own her. He wondered what she thought about the extremely high bidding.

The auctioneer kept quiet. He didn't want the bidders to think he was pushing them for a decision, so he just waited. Nav watched the woman's lips move and wondered what she was saying. When she stopped, Nav saw her agent signal that they were done.

"I'd like to announce the enslavement of Meena to the gentleman who bid 65. Sir, I'm sure that in the years ahead you'll consider this the smartest purchase of your life. And Meena, I'm confident that your new owner would not have paid so much if he wasn't committed to treating you like the precious gem you are."

Nav looked at Meena's face. She looked down, tried to avoid displaying unseemly emotion, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling in a way that touched Nav's heart. She was glad he'd won! She wasn't going to act in a way that suggested she thought there was anything wrong with the other bidders, but from the beginning she'd hoped Nav would get her, and you could see it in her lovely face.

Slaves are terrible at concealing their feelings. It's part of their charm.

"I can't imagine the amount of money you spent today, and I'm a pretty imaginative guy," the agent said. "Happy?"

"Very happy," Nav said. "Very, very happy."

"Hold on to that thought," the agent said. "I've been in this business for a lot of years, and I have never heard of anyone who regreted purchasing their slave. There is no such thing as buyer's remorse. You are about to commence the most intimate relationship possible between two people. No one regrets it. Ever."

The enslavement ceremony commenced immediately after the auction. The plantation's doctor gave Meena and Nav the injections that trigger the bonding process. It's natural for people to form a hormonal bond when they become intimate, but the bond between Master and slave goes far beyond what ordinary people can do.

There was a short, tasteful ceremony where Nav pledged to be a good Master, and Meena pledged to be a good slave. At the end the auctioneer offered a toast, and they all drank wine as a symbol of an enslavement that ages well, growing better with every year. The wine was also significant because it was Meena's first sip of an adult beverage. The girl was now officially a woman.

They were escorted to the suite where they would spend the night. Nav flew his jet so he could take them away the next day, but regulations demanded that they spend one last night on the island that was Meena's home for her entire life. The bright, open suite had a broad balcony with a stunning view of the ocean. They could hear the sound of the waves on the shore.

The suite also offered a kind of privacy Meena had never experienced. In the interest of protecting the slaves raised on plantations, every space was monitored with unblinking cameras that observed everything everywhere. An AI monitored the system, watching to ensure that no one did anything that would endanger the young people's safety or chastity. If the AI deemed anything bad might be imminent, robotic security guards would arrive within seconds. No one had ever taken the virginity of an unsold slave, and the networks of cameras and AIs made sure no one ever did.

"You grew up in a beautiful place," Nav said.

"It is wonderful, but I'm anxious to see more," Meena said. "I've seen pictures and videos of the rest of the world. It will be nice to see other places with my own eyes."

Nav nodded. "There are a lot of wonderful things out there," he said. "I will take you anywhere you want to go."

Meena looked down and gave him the shy smile he was beginning to love. "What a nice thing to say," she said.

They sat on the balcony and talked. Nav didn't notice at first, but Meena was trained in the art of conversation. She was adept at getting people to talk about themselves, and Nav found himself telling her things he'd never told anyone. He was amused when he realized what was happening, and he was determined to get Meena to say something about herself.

"Do you have any regrets about leaving this place?" he asked.

"There are people I will miss. They say I can call them wherever I want, but that won't be the same as seeing them everyday. Still, I am thrilled to be leaving. I've looked forward to this day for years. Everything about my life has prepared me for this day. I'm anxious for what comes next."

That last sentence was vague enough to have two meanings. Perhaps Meena meant she was anxious to start her new life. But she may have meant that she was anxious for what would happen when Nav took her to bed. Meena was a very bright girl who had learned a lot on the island. She'd devoted plenty of time and effort to her studies, and she'd learned everything her teachers presented. But she wanted to know all about sex, the topic they'd deliberately kept from her. Meena knew she was about to experience something wonderful, but she'd been told almost nothing about it. Her teachers revealed only two details: it would happen in bed, and there would be a very brief moment of pain.

Opponents of slavery were particularly critical of selling an 18 year old to a buyer so much older. And these criticisms were valid. But most critics didn't understand what it was like to be bred a slave. Meena was biologically destined to bond with a Master who would be a partner, lover, and companion. She'd reached maturity, and every cell in her body yearned to touch and be touched, hold and be held, love and be loved. Withholding it longer would be cruel.

"It's hard for me to believe I finally have a Master," Meena said. "It feels as though I've waited forever for this."

Master. It was the first time anyone had called him that. Nav had mixed feelings about the name. It conjured up unpleasant images from history, but it also reminded him that he and Meena were beginning a very special and intimate relationship. He'd been alive a long, long time. He'd done all kinds of things, loved many women, seen everything he wanted to see. He'd reached a point where nothing was new. Nothing. To Meena, everything was new, and Nav was anxious to see her reactions as she experienced all life had to offer.