by Peter King
A FAMILY IN SLAVERY
By Peter King
© Copyright Peter King
The right of Peter King to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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A FAMILY IN SLAVERY
Prologue: Imprisoned
When she woke up she knew something was wrong. Her head felt like it weighed a ton and it was throbbing, but just the feel of the hard bed beneath her told her something bad had happened. As her eyes started to focus she saw the extent of her plight, she was in some sort of cell. A small window near the ceiling looked like it was letting in sunlight, but she was not sure. The walls were made of rough rock and a solid metal door at one end was the only other feature of the small room.
She looked down and saw she was on a bare cot, with no covers or even a pillow. She rose up onto her elbows and recognized what she was wearing, a light yellow summer dress. She sat up, her bare feet touching the dirty floor and then a fresh blast of fear ran through her. She remembered having dinner last night with her daughters and Sam, her boss, but after that is was murky. Her daughters! That thought shook her to her core, given where she was now; her fears for them became primary.
She tried to stand and found her legs were shaky, but using the wall she staggered to the door. She began pounding on it, calling out her daughter’s names, hoping for a response. None came and after a few minutes her hands became sore and her throat dry. She slumped on the cot and tried to think. She and her two daughters had been having a marvelous vacation, and suddenly this. But what was this? She tried to gather her memories and try to make sense of this terrifying situation, but until that door opened, she knew she would not find any real answers.
Chapter 1: Maneuvering Monica
Monica Freeman was a single mom, proud of her two beautiful daughters. Maria was a twenty-one year old and Megan had just turned eighteen. Both girls had their mother’s stunning looks, with natural blonde hair and deep blue eyes, packaged in bodies that made most men drool. Even Monica, nearly forty years old now, still drew many stares, keeping her body fit and toned.
But life was not a bowl of cherries for the three ladies, as her husband abandoned Monica shortly after Meg was born. For years they struggled to make ends meet until just a couple of years ago, when Monica found her dream job. She started working for Samuel Coltrain, a wealthy financier, mainly dealing in real estate. She still worked hard and long hours, but no longer needed a second job, her salary finally earning her enough to pay all her bills.
Maria was Monica’s greatest heartache, still living at home with no prospects to make it on her own. She was a beautiful girl, but lazy and unfocused, causing her mother much grief and concern. Meg was her polar opposite, a great student and an even better person. She already had a job as a waitress, earning more money than her sister ever did and she was saving most of it for college. But she loved them both and would do anything she could to help them, even though Maria tended to take advantage of her love.
It was just a week after Meg’s eighteenth birthday when she was called into Sam’s (he insisted she call him that, instead of his more formal title) office. He had her sit down and offered her some coffee, a strange reversal since she always got his for him. Once he handed her a cup and took his seat behind his desk, she started to worry for some reason.
“Well Monica I hear congratulations are in order, your youngest just turned eighteen,” he said, after taking a sip from his cup.
“Thank you Sam, I am very proud of Meg,” she replied. Sam had always shown an interest in her and her girls, and had helped them financially shortly after Monica started working for him. Of course she had paid him back once she got caught up, but she never forgot his initial kindness.
“I would like to offer you and your girls a little getaway to my villa in the Caribbean, all expenses paid of course,” he said, watching her eyes go wide in surprise.
“Sam, I’m flattered and appreciative, but that is not necessary,” she replied, wondering if she ever had a real vacation before.
“I think it is, you have been a diligent and hard working employee since I hired you. Two years now and I know you have not taken a single vacation and you have four weeks coming to you. I expect the girls could make arrangements to take a month off and the three of you can enjoy what might be the last chance for a family vacation, they are grown up now you know.”
He was right and the offer was amazing, she had seen pictures of his estate on a small island in the tropics. It was not one of those tourist islands; rather it was nearly private. She knew he had an estate there along with a dozen other wealthy people who valued the seclusion it offered. This was an offer she could not refuse once she thought about it and she was sure the girls would enjoy it too.
“Since you put it that way Sam, let me talk to the girls and maybe we can take you up on your offer,” she replied; now thinking about warm water and palm trees.
“That will be fine, let me know tomorrow and we can make the arrangements,” he replied.
The rest of the day all Monica could think about was how great a month off would feel. She knew Maria would be ready to go tonight, but her workaholic daughter Meg might need some convincing. When she got home she made a special dinner, Maria was in her room on her computer and Meg was due home by seven. When Meg finally arrived closer to seven-thirty, she called to Maria and the three women sat down for dinner.
Once they were nearly done eating, unable to hold back any longer, Monica said, “My boss Sam made us an offer to use his house in the Caribbean for a month, all expenses paid!”
“Really?” asked a shocked looking Maria.
Meg asked, “But what about my job?” following Maria’s question.
Monica smiled, Meg was so pragmatic she thought, but she replied, “As soon as we want Maria and I’m sure if you asked your boss, he would be happy to accommodate you Meg.”
Maria chimed, “I’m in,” as Meg followed with, “But I would lose a month’s earnings.”
“You are eighteen and can do what you like Meg, but think about living in a private villa, pampered for a full month,” replied Monica, showing Meg a picture of the estate she brought home.
After looking at the massive house and sculptured tropical gardens, Meg looked up at her mom and said, “OK, I’m in too, can we at least wait a week so my boss can find coverage for my shifts?”
“No problem, I’ll tell Sam tomorrow,” replied Monica, ecstatic that both her daughters were going to vacation with her.
The next day she gave Sam the good news, and a week later they were flying to paradise on his private jet. They had to fly to Miami and take his yacht to the island, a good eight-hour trip by sea. All three women were intoxicated by the luxury that surrounded them, as well as how accommodating Sam’s people were in serving their every need. Once on the island they met Juan, Sam’s private chauffeur, who drove them to the tiny peninsula where
his estate was built. As they drove through the gates, they all marveled how the reality far surpassed the pictures they had seen of the estate.
As they drove into the portico another man came out to greet them, dressed all in white, his dark ebony skin in sharp contrast to his clothes. He opened the car door and helped each of the ladies from the car, even as Juan gathered their bags onto a cart. He ushered them all into the foyer, filled with vases full of beautiful and aromatic tropical flowers.
“Welcome to San Diablo, my name is Raul and it is my duty to see you all have a relaxing vacation,” he said, his Haitian accent sounding melodic as he spoke.
“Doesn’t Diablo mean Devil in Spanish?” asked Meg.
“Yes young lady it does, but as this peninsula was called the ‘Devil’s point,’ Mr. Sam decided to name his estate to fit the original name,” replied the silky voiced man.
“But San Diablo? Isn’t that an oxymoron?” the practical girl asked.
“Perhaps Mr. Sam would discuss that with you in person young lady, alas it is not my place to know what he thinks. But let me show you to your rooms so you may bathe and get ready for dinner,” replied Raul, a note of derision in his reply.
Their rooms, all adjoining each other with Monica’s in the middle, were magnificently appointed and had balconies facing the bright blue sea. The house sat on a cliff overlooking the water, with winding paths leading to the private beach below the precipice. It was like living out a fantasy for the three women of modest means, but they soon began to absorb the decadent pleasure they could enjoy here.
The first week was a dream, the three girls getting up early each day with a delicious breakfast from Bertha the German cook. Then they climbed down to the beach to tan and swim, soaking in the warm tropical sun. In the evenings, after splendid dinners made by Bertha, Juan would take them to the only town on the island, where they danced in the cantina until late into the night.
Near the end of the first week Raul informed Monica that Sam would be joining them the next day, a surprise, albeit a nice one. Monica had felt bad that she was living in his vacation home while he was still working. The fact he was coming made her think she should do something to show her appreciation. He was her boss and she was always professional with him, but this was a vacation. She always found him attractive and who knew what might come up in this splendid location.
The next day, while they were frolicking in the mild surf, Sam appeared on the beach. Treading out of the water Monica ran up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He noticed all three girls were wearing skimpy bikinis and their marvelously tanned bodies were as spectacular as he hoped.
After she kissed him, she said, “Hi Sam! I would have given you a great big hug, but didn’t want to soak you.”
He looked at her damp flesh and asked, “How are you and the girls enjoying your vacation?”
“We are having the time of our lives Sam!”
“Good, I have some matters to attend to, but would like to have dinner with you and the girls. Can you be ready in two hours?” he asked the dripping wet beauty.
“No problem, I’ll make sure we are there.”
“Good, now go have some more fun,” he said, as he turned and walked back up to the house.
Two hours later the four were seated at the dining room table eating another grand meal prepared by Bertha. The first few days here, Monica tried to help the stern looking woman in the kitchen, but was shooed away by the cook. Apparently she guarded her turf like a hawk and by now Monica just accepted the royal treatment all of Sam’s servants provided them.
After dinner Sam took the trio to his study for an after dinner drink, once he had convinced Monica that Meg was old enough for one little drink. He opened a bottle of expensive champagne and poured it into four flutes. Once all held a glass, he raised his to make a toast.
“To the three beautiful ladies who have added to the splendor of this island!” he said, as they all clinked their glasses and then they drained them.
Monica sat in her cell, finally remembering the toast and what occurred just after it. First Meg, and then Maria, started to get light headed and sat down on a leather sofa. She remembered Sam helping them get seated, before turning toward her. She recalled looking at him and feeling dizzy herself, but then her memories faded away. She now knew that he must have spiked their drinks, but why? Frustrated she curled up on the cot to wonder and worry.
When the door finally creaked open she instinctively curled up tight against the wall, afraid of who would enter the cell. A man entered, dressed totally in black, including gloves and a hood that concealed his features, a sight that made Monica cower in fear. Maybe it was not Sam who did this she thought, maybe they were kidnapped, a possibility that added to her horror.
“On your feet, face the back wall with your hands behind your back,” he barked, his voice unfamiliar.
“Where am I, what has happened to my daughters?” Monica cried.
His response was a hard slap across her face, sending her crashing face down onto the cot. A boot shoved her ass until she reluctantly crawled off the end of the cot and assumed the ordered position. She felt the metal cuffs locked around her wrists; cinched so tight they pinched her skin. Then, before she knew it, he draped a cloth bag over her head plunging her into darkness. He grabbed her upper arm and maneuvered her out the door, the disoriented woman stumbling to keep up with him. He held her arm tightly, jerking her around as he nearly dragged her along with him.
Bound and blind, the terrified woman did her best to stay on her feet as the large man led her away from her cell. The floor was cold rough stone, her bare feet feeling abused as she stumbled along to an unknown destination. It was a short trip, abruptly ending when she was shoved against a barrier at waist height. Her handler moved behind her holding her still by gripping both her upper arms and pinioning her against the hard wood.
“I can smell the fear on you woman, that is good, it will provide me much enjoyment,” came the unmistakable sound of Sam’s voice, just in front of her.
“Why are you doing this and where are my girls?” pled the horrified woman.
“To answer your second question, they are still asleep, I gave them stronger doses than you. As to the first question, I have spent a long time planning this little adventure. You and your lovely daughters are now my property, your old lives are over and your new ones belong to me,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What are you talking about? That is crazy, you can’t own people!” the stunned woman shrieked.
“I can and I do, you and your daughters are just the latest additions to my collection. You should consider the fact that you are on an island in international waters where any rights you are accustomed to no longer apply. Add to that the fact that I used the last week to settle all your affairs and effectively make your family disappear. I brought you here via private transportation, so there is not even a record of where you went. I only tell you this so you can understand how helpless you are to do anything but what you are told.”
Before she could digest what he said he yanked the hood off her head so he could see the look in her eyes. She blinked a few times before fixing her gaze on his face. She did look terrified, exactly what he expected and enjoyed. He stared at her coldly, like a predator who had his prey cornered.
“Please Sam, do what you want with me but leave my girls alone,” she finally said, looking for any way to rescue her girls from this terrible turn of events.
“Sorry Monica, but they are a big part of my plans. You see I have already succeeded at taking a woman and converting her to a willing sex slave. You and your daughters are my first attempt at subjugating more than one, and the fact you are a family only makes it that much more alluring,” came his cold reply.
“Your are insane!” she cried, the terror rising inside her after hearing him say ‘sex slave.’
“Perverted yes, but I am quite sane. I have invested two years in planning and executing this plan
and now it is coming to fruition. You and your daughters will be trained to serve me and there is nothing you can do to stop it. But, I will offer you one choice, cooperate with me and your daughters will suffer far less than they could. I do not want your answer yet, first I want you to observe what I mean,” he replied, then looking up at the man behind her, he said, “Get her ready.”
Sam dropped the hood back over her head and the masked man dragged her away. She screamed, “No please don’t do this!” as she struggled against his tight grip. But there was no response and she was shoved along to another unknown place. She tried to fight back, but with her arms pinioned behind her back, it was useless.
In minutes she found herself backed against a hard pole with straps wrapped around her body and legs, fixing her tightly to it. Then the hood was removed and she saw a large window in front of her, with Sam on the other side sitting at the table where she just stood. Before she could react, the man shoved a hard ball into her mouth and strapped it behind her neck.
Then the strange voice said, “You will watch as your Master introduces your oldest daughter to her new life.”
Chapter 2: Maria’s Initiation
Monica watched in mute horror as the hooded man, who had left her alone after gagging her, soon brought Maria into the room with Sam. She was cuffed and hooded like Monica was and still wearing her light blue dress from dinner and like her mother was barefoot. She could see the girl was visibly trembling and noticed her own body shook from her intense fear. But this time, when they entered the room, Sam stood up and walked over to them.
They released her wrists as she struggled, each of the men taking one arm and pulling them apart to lock them to manacles hanging from the ceiling. They fixed her so she was facing the window Monica was looking through. Maria, to her credit, was struggling mightily, kicking and fighting against the men. Once her wrists were locked in place, they grabbed her ankles and locked them into cuffs chained to the floor, forcing the girl into a spread X of captured femininity.
