Shelacta Tales

If this is the first Shelacta Tale you have read, please go the appendix to learn about this world.

Eighth Tale: Rout of a Pimp

Piotr (called Peter throughout this tale) was one of the pimps running the brothel where Eva, Aurora, Camille, Gida and Larissa were enslaved by their illegal status and debt to the people smugglers. He had been caught during the raid on the brothel and deported back to his 'own' country which wasn't his own, but was the country shown on his forged paperwork.

Peter had an advantage over the other pimps. Unlike them, who were distinctive and flashy dressers, Peter appeared to be a nondescript person who would be difficult to notice. He could act and always merged into a crowd as a good spy should. He had been a spy under the old communist regime; a well paid spy. Now he was a 'businessman' and his business was selling women's bodies and blackmail.

He was looking for his former employees. As illegals he could force them back into slavery by threatening disclosure to the authorities. Not that Peter would do the disclosing – the closest he'd come would be an anonymous tip-off. Peter paid people to disclose illegals who wouldn't pay in money or services.

Peter was sure that some of 'his' prostitutes would still be in the town, if not as prostitutes then in jobs that asked no questions. So far he had been looking for a week and asking around. He had found out that the Smith householder had grown by a couple of young women. It was worth checking. He cycled past the Smith house twice a day at regular times as if going to and from a shift at the local factory. After three days his patience was rewarded by a sight of Eva in a maid's uniform opening the door to the postman. He had found at least one of his missing employees.

Peter had the habit of caution. He continued to cycle past the Smiths' house for three more days and thought her saw Gida as well. Two in one house was a good omen. He would approach the mistress of the house tomorrow.

Unfortunately for Peter he had made two mistakes. The first was in relying on his tradecraft without making allowances for the skills of others. Gida had been a spy too. Nearly one in ten adults in their country had been employed at least part time as spies on each other. The second mistake was assuming that the women would not be on their guard.

The women were almost free of care because their work permits were nearly granted. They knew how close they were and how important it was not to be caught before they were in the country legally. They were taking extra care in the last few weeks.

Gida had exposed herself deliberately. The women thought that the cyclist was Peter. His reaction to a glimpse of Gida was revealing. His cycling lost rhythm and the bike wobbled as he saw her. That was enough. The women knew that he was Peter. Sooner or later he would approach the Smiths.

A few days later, Peter, dressed very differently but still inconspicuously, knocked on the Smiths' front door. Eva answered the door in her maid's uniform.

"You!" she hissed dramatically. The others thought she was overacting. Peter thought it a natural reaction.

"I would like to talk to Mrs Smith, please, Eva, if that is still your name. I know she is in."

"I will ask if she wishes to see you," said Eva formally as if recovering her poise. "What name shall I give her?"

"Mr Peter Jones. Here is my card."

Peter handed over a card with that name on it. It appeared to identify him as an investigating officer of the Immigration Service.

"I will ask her, Mr Jones," Eva said emphasising the 'Jones' as if she didn't believe it.

Eva left Peter in the doorway. She returned in less than a minute.

"Mrs Smith will see you, Mr 'Jones'. Please follow me."

Eva shut the door behind them and walked into the front reception room. Mrs Smith, Mona, stood up from an armchair beside a screen dividing the room. There was a deep armchair with its back to the screen. The other chairs were cluttered with piles of clothing. A large shawl was draped over the screen.

"Please take a seat, Mr Jones," said Mona, indicating the vacant chair. "Please forgive the clutter. Eva and I were sorting for the next Church jumble sale."

Peter sat down. He sank deep into the chair. It seemed to be in a reclining position and would be difficult to get up from. Eva stood slightly to his side and behind him.

"What can I do for the Immigration Service, Mr Jones?" Mona asked.

"It is about Eva. I have reason to believe that she is in this country illegally. Did you know that?"

"She might have been before I employed her, Mr Jones. I didn't ask. Now she is here with a limited work permit. While she remains in my employment she has a right to stay. Her papers are in order and on file at the local office. I presume you are NOT from the local office, Mr Jones?"

Peter didn't notice Eva lift the shawl from the screen and spread it wide between her hands.

"No, Mrs Smith. I am from headquarters. I only investigate multiple cases such as yours. While Eva might have the papers you say, the other women in this house do not have them."

"And what are you going to do about these non-existent women, Mr Jones?"

"I would have to report them to my superiors, Mrs Smith. They will be deported. You and Mr Smith will be prosecuted, unless..."

"Unless what, Mr Jones?"

"Unless you and I and the women can come to some arrangement."

"Ah. I thought you might suggest 'some arrangement'. I don't think I like the idea of an 'arrangement' Mr Jones."

"Eva?" Mona asked. "Would you want me to come to an arrangement with Mr Jones?"

"No, Mrs Smith," Eva replied.

"Would you like to give him your answer?"

Peter looked at Eva too late, just as she threw the shawl over him and held it down with her body weight. He hadn't expected a physical attack from Eva. In the depths of the armchair even Eva's slim body prevented him from escaping until the other women came from behind the screen and overwhelmed him. He was tied hand and foot still muffled by the shawl.

Eva put her hand across his mouth. Even through the cloth her trap should have worked. It didn't. She wasn't surprised. Peter would have acquired protection by depriving some unfortunate pre-fertile woman of her trap. Eva picked up a heavy skirt and stifled his shouts under the shawl and skirt.

He was bodily carried to the basement and gradually his bonds were replaced by others as his clothes were stripped off him. Finally the shawl was removed. Eva pinched his nose as Gida fitted the bit that had been used on Jonas. Peter's teeth were forced apart and his lips were slightly open. Gida positioned herself behind his head. Her knees clamped his ears hard and then released so that he could hear Eva.

She stood in his line of vision. Aurora, Camille and Larissa stood beside her.

"You see us, Peter? Five women who have no reason to like you. I am already legally in this country. The others will have work permits soon. We are not going to let a piece of shit like you interfere. I know that you are protected from women's sexual traps. Thanks to you and your fellows, three of us are trapless. You are immune to the two of us who still have traps but you are not immune to this."

Eva slowly unbuttoned her blouse. To his horror Peter could see that her bra had damp circles around her nipples. He tried to shake his head but Gida's knees had clamped him as soon as Eva stopped talking. He tried to speak.

"Guh. Guh" was all the bit let him sound.

Eva moved her arms behind her back, leaning her breasts towards Peter as she unclipped her bra. She hooked it up above her breasts. She leant forward until one nipple brushed Peter's lips. She changed breasts and stroked her other nipple over his lips and cheeks. Milk leaked from her glands on to his face.

She inserted two fingers between Peter's lips and held them apart as she eased the tip of her breast in until her aureole was inside. Then she closed his lips around her breast. Milk trickled slowly into his mouth. He tried to shut his gullet but more milk flowed until he was in danger of choking.

Eva gently pinched his nostrils together. He had to swallow then breathe or he would suffocate or drown. He swallowed. Eva released his nostrils and withdrew her breast slowly. Gida unclamped her knees.

"There you are, Peter," Eva said. "Simple, wasn't it. It would have been easier for you if you had co-operated but it is done now. You are my slave until you can find another milker. That should be easy. All five of us are milkers. You could ask any one of them but I don't think that would bring you freedom, would it?"

Gida stood up and moved into Peter's line of sight.

"Eva and I still have our traps. The others haven't and that is your doing. I don't think they will be merciful to you. You will be our guest for the next few weeks. Enjoy your stay. We will enjoy you."

They kept Peter in the basement. Eva's orders would have been enough to keep him there but he was also chained. He had to serve any woman who wanted him, how they wanted to be served, and to serve with diligence and attention. He was kept fed and watered, showered at least twice daily and in one or other woman's sexual trap several times a day. He couldn't understand how he could be trapped by a cup of tea or coffee but he was, with a slight addition of some of Aurora's, Camille's or Larissa's breast milk.

Three weeks later the work permits were granted. The women could have handed Peter over to the immigration service but all that they would do would be to deport Peter again. He would soon be back in the country.

Mona went to the Temple to seek advice. When the priestesses heard what Peter had done to the five women and many others they decided to give him a formal trial. Eva ordered him to come with her to the Temple. There he was assigned a defence counsel. He decided to plead guilty. At least five women could give dramatic evidence against him. He hoped that a guilty verdict would get him a more lenient sentence.

The sentence seemed lenient enough. He was condemned to listen to Deirdre the Golden Siren for a complete verse of a song.

Execution followed immediately. He was taken to a lower chamber and chained to the wall. He was gagged so that he couldn't scream. Deirdre walked into the chamber formally dressed as the Golden Siren in flowing pleats of gold lame. A recording of the accompaniment of Zerlina's song was played as Deirdre sang about having a medicine that would cure all Mazetto's hurts. Peter surrendered unconditionally to the Golden Siren. Slavery to her is impossible to resist or break. The Golden Siren's slaves cannot resist her orders and are all as willing as they can be.

Peter was fortunate. He spent the rest of his life as Deirdre's slave at the Temple. She ordered him to become a handyman and an advisor on brothels and prostitution. His advice helped the Temple to gain control of prostitution so that the women were not exploited but worked for reasonable pay, were not abused, and had frequent medical attention.

Peter the pimp had become the Siren's assistant. Eva and Gida were happy with that solution. The others thought he had been treated too well and thought of hot pokers and boiling oil. Yet Peter was never again a threat to women. That perhaps is better than revenge.

* * * * *

Appendix

Shelacta (pronounced She-Lacta) is a contemporary parallel world very similar to our own early 21st Century world except in its sexual practices.

Sexual changes have affected the human race. Young women have become forced to be sexual predators. Once a woman has reached the age of 18 she is mature but she must force five men to orgasm before she becomes potentially fertile. At least one of the five of the five men must be killed by the sexual act of the pre-fertile woman. To help her achieve this women have mutated into developing sexual traps.

If a pre-fertile woman allows a man to penetrate her she loses her sexual trap and it is very difficult for her to become mature except with the help of consenting men. If a man penetrates a mature but pre-fertile woman he becomes immune to women's sexual traps. If he penetrates a fertile woman her trap makes him her slave, whether or not conception occurs. The fertile woman controls whether she wants to conceive or not. The number of male slaves a woman has determines her status. Any of her slaves is at risk of death from a pre-fertile woman, or capture by another fertile woman.

A woman who has lost her sexual trap is an outcast even when fertile because she has no normal means of making a man her slave.

Chastity belts for either sex are both immoral and illegal. The possession or use of such a device is a capital offence and execution is almost inevitable.

A pregnant woman freezes her status once the pregnancy is confirmed. She can immunise her male slaves against other women by wiping her pussy over their faces at least once a week. She can do this if she is actually pregnant but the pregnancy isn't yet confirmed.

A lactating woman is special. Even if she has lost her sexual trap she is attractive to men because her milk can free them. Every man who drinks a pint of her milk directly from her breasts becomes his own master again. He will be immune to sexual traps for life but from the first sip until he has drunk the whole pint he is the lactating woman's slave and that slavery overrides all others even after she ceases to produce milk. Lactation is the only way for a woman who has lost her sexual trap to achieve status.

Males under the age of 18 are taboo and incapable of arousal. The best birthday present a family can give a son is to buy the services of a lactating woman until he has drunk a pint of her milk. Women who can produce a genuine pint at one feed are rare and much sought after. Most paid 'milkers' have to have several sessions with the fortunate son until the pint has been delivered. The procedure is embarrassing to the son because until he has drunk the full pint he is the 'milker's' slave and as she is usually an outcast of low status his predicament makes him the butt of humour from his contemporaries. There have been several stage farces written around this situation. If she cannot deliver the full pint for whatever reason, he is her slave for life.

The author of these tales has limited access to view journals and magazines from Shelacta. From that access he has extracted some stories that might interest our world.