A Slaves Strength

A Slave’s Strength (Chapter Eight):
Coming To Terms

by

mechgogo

The BOI legal department had moved with breakneck speed in this instance. Apparently by the time he had been brought in Rick, the family’s lawyer friend had raised six kinds of hell with the Bureau. Rick had been an ardent abolitionist from day one and could quote the relevant laws from memory. A six-figure lawsuit was being threatened along with all manner of bad media drama. Harris’s superiors naturally wanted the matter settled quietly and, preferably cheaply. But above all quickly. And quietly.

Tom and the Bureau higher ups did a bit of dickering via video conference. Terms were worked out with the understanding that the deal was conditional upon his family playing ball. Rick was brought in on the matter and went ballistic in the manner unique to attorneys who are convinced they’ve got the other side by the short hairs. He thought Tom was an idiot for trying to make the deal and said as much. He could be home by the end of the week with more money in the family account than they’d made in their entire time together, and he wanted to just piss it away over some random kids he didn’t even know? What the hell?

“You just go right ahead and buy my freedom by feeding a bunch of innocent kids to the chains, Rick.” Tom warned, using not particularly polite abolitionist term for indentured contract holders. “You go on ahead and see what happens. I fucking dare you!”

Rick backed off after that. At least one person that he knew of had pushed matters after hearing that phrase from Tom only to later make the acquaintance of a two-pound ball peen hammer. Tom was his friend but he was not above admitting the man scared the piss out of him sometimes.

Angie and Nicki had their say in things as well. Tom had enough experience with the criminal justice system to be certain a couple of Nick’s comments constituted felonies. There was screaming and tears on both ends in English and Irish alike. In the end though, Tom had his way. That wasn’t always the case at his house. He was a single man living with two Irish women after all, both of whom he loved in no small part for how much steel they had in them.

The terms were simple. To begin with, Agent Mark French went on ninety days unpaid administrative leave. The family wanted his job. Well, Rick wanted his job. Nicki and Angie wanted his balls and liver respectively. But they agreed to the suspension. During that time he would hand write in simple print handwriting separate letters of apology to both sisters with his full legal name printed clearly at the bottom. It was amazing the amount of grief you could commence for a person with just their name. When he got back he would be restricted to collection duty indefinitely. Training responsibilities would cease to be part of his job description for as long as he worked for the Bureau.

Fifty thousand dollars would be deposited into a separate account and doled out in two week allotments for the next year. An additional amount was agreed upon based on the average cost of contract per current resident at the center. This money would go to buying the freedom of whichever trainees Tom saw fit to select. By his own reckoning it amounted to freedom for Billy, Aaron and maybe three or four other kids if he was careful.

In return the girls would not pursue legal action. They would sign a gag agreement and not discuss the matter with anyone anywhere under any circumstances or be liable for damages sufficient to make indentured servitude a family-wide career path. Tom would remain in service for the duration of his contract. When Nicki found out about the fine he was expected to pay, she snapped all over again. You could buy a crate of cell phones for the amount of money those additional six months represented. So the fine got waived with the understanding that Tom was not to pull another stunt like that again.

Papers were signed and faxed back and forth. Minor points were dickered over but ultimately resolved. In the end both sides left the table feeling just a bit corn-holed. To Tom’s way of thinking that made it a win-win.

After saying good-bye to his girls for the second time in two days Tom was led off to Marie’s office. They had offered to let him make his selections in the morning but he didn’t want to waste any time.

“Thanks for letting me use your space to work Mistress Marie.” He said when they got to the tastefully decorated office. “I could’ve done it in my cell though. I mean, it couldn’t have been that hard to give the computer in there access could it?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” She said. She poured herself some coffee, offered Tom a cup.

“I’m actually more partial to hot chocolate.” He admitted. “But thanks.” His stomach grumbled and he ignored it. It wasn’t like he didn’t know where his next meal was coming from. He could afford to wait.

Marie made a call to the cafeteria. A pot of hot chocolate was sent up along the lasagna option for dinner. Tom tried to refuse, explaining he was trying to minimize the amount of extra time he bought himself.

“It’s on me.” Marie said “You’re very intriguing Tom. I’ve seen a lot of residents come through here but you’re my first voluntary. And I don’t think you’re normal even for them. You fold like silk on some things. You’re unfailingly polite to most of the staff. You fawn over Agent Comisky even though it’s obvious you’re in love with your wife and sister-in-law.”

“Wives, Mistress Marie.” Tom said absently. His fingers were flying over the keyboard, setting search parameters. Cost of contract, age, gender, sexual experience, number and financial stability of relatives on the outside. He’d be damned if he’d free some kid only to have them fighting for their lives out on the street.

“Excuse me?” Marie asked. She wasn’t used to being corrected by indents. She considered ordering Tom over the arm of her couch for some correction of his own.

“You said wife and sister-in-law.” Tom said. “Nicki’s my wife no different than Angie. Doesn’t matter what the law says. That’s just a piece of paper and financial bullshit so the government can get its cut. Marriage is in your heart and head; what you agree to commit to with somebody else. Not what some asshole politician who’s half the time screaming about family values with the right side of his mouth, and using the left side to place an order for underage hookers and a kilo of coke, has to say. No offense. It’s just how I see it is all.”

Marie thought about that. From anyone else that little speech would have been hugely insubordinate. From Tom, it was just how he saw the world. She decided she might still take a strap to Tom later but for entertainment purposes rather than disciplinary.

“Alright. Your wives. Where was I?”

“I fawn over Mistress Beth, but Helen Keller could see I’m devoted to my wives.”

“Right. At the same time I’m convinced if things had continued between you and Agent French, you would have tried to kill him before your transfer date. Or if we tried to push you in the wrong direction we’d have to risk an accident with you to get compliance.”

“Right, on both counts.” Tom said.

Ok, so eliminate anyone currently 18 or older. It was an arbitrary number to be sure you had to set the bar somewhere. Organize by cost of contract first with age and financial solvency of remaining family members second and third. It made him a little sick, deciding peoples fates based on best-value-per-dollar but the goal was to unshackle as many kids as possible using an entirely-too-limited-for-his-taste budget.

“So why stay?” she asked. “I can understand – just barely – acting as your sis...your wife Nicollete’s proxy. But you had a chance to walk out of here and you’re throwing it away for nothing. Why?”

There was a knock on the door. One of the residents who was toward the end of their training pushed a cart with two meal settings into the room. At Marie’s gesture, they set it up in front of where she sat on the couch and crawled out on all fours.

“Hold your answer until after dinner.” Marie told Tom. She snapped her fingers and pointed at her feet. “On your knees within easy reach of my hands. Hands behind your back. Oh, and you’re a bit overdressed for my taste.”

When Tom was stripped and arranged the way she wanted him, Marie started in on her dinner. Periodically she fed Tom using the second serving and silverware that she had ordered just for him. In between bites they talked. After the second or third horrifying answer relating to his childhood Marie switched to more innocuous matters. She asked about his hobbies, tastes in music, why he wore his hair so long when almost no one his age did any more. Tom’s answer to that question rang false with her. It was too practiced and generic, not so much an actual as something he thought would satisfy most people.

The contents of the cart included two slices of chocolate cake for dessert and, for Tom, a glass of plain white milk. The first time Mistress Marie held out the glass to him, he instinctively reached for it with his hand. Marie pulled the glass back and slapped his hand hard enough to make him wince and hiss at the pain.

“Do that again when I’m feeding you and I’ll stripe your butt and thighs.” She warned.

“Sorry, Mistress.” Tom said, dropping his eyes submissively.

Marie held out the glass again. This time Tom leaned forward and let her give him a drink without touching it. Most of the milk went in his mouth but he wasn’t used to having someone else make him drink like that. A thin stream ran down his chin and onto his chest, eliciting a sigh of frustration from Marie.

“Little slob.” She muttered. She picked up a napkin. “Come here.”

The rest of the meal was pleasant enough. By the time Marie decided Tom was ready for dessert, he was able to take a drink from her without spilling any. This earned him a smile and “Good boy” which he found oddly warming. The chocolate cake was a treat. One of Tom’s biggest vices was a savage sweet tooth that he had to keep a constant eye on. He found himself smiling with genuine pleasure as she forked little bites of cake into his mouth.

After they were both finished Marie had Tom remove her shoes and took her hose off. He gave a pointed look to the space just below her navel. She shook her head at the unspoken inquiry.

“Maybe later.” She extended one foot and wiggled her toes at him. “Kiss and massage. First the left then the right.”

Tom got to work. Kissing and licking at Marie’s toes and instep while he massaged her feet. He knew part of the point of the service was to humiliate him but he wasn’t bothered. It actually reminded him of being at home. The twins had loved how strong his hands were and looking after them had always been a pleasure. They didn’t play any of the Mistress/slave games that formed the constant social background noise at the center. That sort of thing had never appealed to any of them. But using his strength and smarts in the capacity of a caregiver rather than a predator had been a source of real fulfillment. Even if Marie was a chain it was nice to be able to do so again.

On the couch, Marie stretched and luxuriated in Tom’s handiwork. His hands were strong and slightly calloused. His fingers seemed to know exactly where to press to ease away the day’s considerable tension. And he looked so cute with his head bowed and the tip of his tongue delicately tapping at her toes.

“Mmmmm.” She purred. “That’s my good boy. So, my question from earlier?”

Tom had hoped she’d forget. Uh-huh and maybe he’d wake up and find the whole legislation issue had just been a bad dream brought on by his subconscious wanting to punish him for all the God-awful things he’d done over the years. Right.

“Can I have some hot chocolate before I answer, Mistress?” he asked, trying to stall. “This gets into some stuff it’s hard to talk about.”

“If you can remember your manners, you can.”

Tom blushed. More than one person had described him as the most polite person they’d ever met. It was a source of genuine embarrassment to slip, however minimally.

“Mistress Marie, may I please have some hot chocolate before I answer?”

“That’s better. Pour yourself a cup and take a drink. But don’t neglect your task while you talk.”

“The thing with Mistress Beth, and my girls, is pretty straightforward.” Tom said after he’d had a drink. The chocolate was passable at best. He’d made better at home using an instant mix. Still it was warming and a comfort. “I’d never so much as kiss Mistress Beth if I were free and could be with Nick and Ang’ . But I’m not and I can’t. And Mistress Beth is alright. I meant what I said in Mr. Harris’s office about serving her. If I could have worked out a way to include my contract going to her as part of my deal I would have done it like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“That wouldn’t have been possible.” Marie said. “Not without putting her at risk of residency.”

Tom nodded “What I thought. So I make the best of a bad situation. I enjoy myself with somebody who’s pretty and strong and reminds me of my girls and along the way pay her back for being nice to me. Pick up some good memories to take the edge off things down the road you know? Doesn’t mean I love the twins any less. No more than blowing Frenchy means I suddenly turned gay.”

“As for buying those kids free when I could go home instead...” He took a drink from his cup and thought. Some things were easier to face or discuss than others.

“I have done a lot of horrible stuff in my time.” Tom said quietly. “Kinda stuff you don’t confess to anyone. Especially not in a place as wired as this. Kinda stuff makes you not like going to sleep at night because it’s waiting for you when you close your eyes.”

“So this is atonement for your past.”

Tom glared at her. His eyes were blazing with cold rage. Marie suddenly understood why Agent Comisky, a dangerous woman by most standards, was so careful in her handling of him. “There is no fucking atonement for some of the shit I did.” He ground out. “Ever.” She could feel him shaking as he spoke.

Marie swallowed nervously. Her throat was suddenly dry and her mind was very much aware of how far away her control unit was. “You were a runaway, Thomas.” She said. “You were only doing what you had to in order to survive.”

Tom shook his head. He gave it a curious little rotation as if he were drawing a circle in the air with his chin and visibly forced himself out of whatever awful place he had briefly visited.

“Not always. Maybe about half the time. Rest of the time it was just me being a vicious little bastard gettin’ off on being able to hurt people.” Old memories swelled up and with them the emotions he tried to keep in check. There were nights when the guilt and sickness at some of his actions kept him up until dawn.

“Thing is, the last few years I’ve tried to be a better person, you know? Don’t get me wrong; I still don’t have what most would call a normal morality. And I’m ok with that, you know? I see so much damned hypocrisy in the world; so many people talking out of both sides of their mouth at once it makes me sick. And the fact is sometimes the best way to handle a situation is to just act like a shark or a spider that learned how to walk on two feet and wear clothes.

“But here’s the thing; what about when it isn’t those times, hm? What about when the choice is between you and some innocent kid who not only never hurt you, he actually looks up to you for some reason? What about when you’re sittin’ there looking at this soft, sheltered little puppy just barely holding it together and there’s you across the table from him; bigger, stronger, a million times tougher. And what’s waiting down the road for both of you is pretty much the same thing but you know you can handle it because you handled way worse by the time you were his age.”

“How do you look that kid in the eye and tell him ‘Guess what? I’m gonna throw your ass to the piranha just so I can dodge out of something I got myself into in the first place.’ ? More important how do you go home to your wives and your friends and your abolitionist politics and look yourself in the eye, hm?”

Tom shook his head, did that odd little rotational tick again. “I’m a sonofabitch, Mistress. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been a goddamned sonofabitch. Just as soon not go back there if I can avoid it.”

Marie didn’t say anything to that. She just stared at Tom with a slightly dread-filled fascination. Part of her wondered what other solutions to his “wife’s” financial problem he had considered and discarded before settling on the one that brought him here to kneel naked and obedient at her feet. She abandoned that line of exploration quickly. Nightmares seldom troubled her sleep and she suspected that would change if she did not.

Marie eventually released Tom from his task. He gave her feet one final kiss each and went back to making his selections. In the end a total of five teenaged newcomers were chosen including Billy and Aaron. All were between sixteen and eighteen years old. Two were girls, the last one a boy. Tom flipped a coin to decide the gender of the final exonerated teen. It might have seemed arbitrary but it was the fairest way he could think of to pick. One of the girls was a virgin. The other was not. That was a conscious decision. It didn’t seem right to punish someone just for not keeping their legs together at a young age.

There was some money left over at the end. Not enough to completely emancipate somebody but enough to make a dent. A third girl, seventeen years old and sexually experienced got a year of her service expunged.

Tom showed Mistress Marie his choices. She nodded and forwarded them on to the relevant parties in the Bureau. All five kids would be home by the end of the week. That done Marie pointed to the office couch.

“That folds out into a bed Thomas.” She said. “Please see to it, and then lay down on your left side.”

While Tom did as she said, Marie pushed the cart out into the hallway. Then she locked the office door and undressed, careful to keep herself out of Tom’s line of sight. She lay down her side behind him, moved his hair off the back of his neck and spent some time kissing him there. Tom stirred, but held still at her instruction. Her hands wandered over him, petting and exploring. Nails danced over his skin, making him bite his lip at the teasing sensation. His cock reacted to her caresses and she made a little pleased sound in her throat at the response.

In time, Marie pulled him gently to his back. She turned his face in her hand, making him look up at her. Mouths found one another and Tom’s arms went around the older woman. There was no toys, no beatings. The welts and bruises of the previous night were not renewed. There was just a man, helpless and submissive, and a woman, older, in charge and comfortable in her power. She used Tom thoroughly, imposing her will on him with body and voice. Strong, gentle touches and murmured commands guided Tom through his service. He smiled, relaxing into it, letting her will steer him.

The pleasure was mutual, Marie made sure of it. At the end, she straddled Tom riding him to a shared orgasm. Her body shared wiriness with Toms own. Her breasts were smaller than most of the women he had been with, no more than a B-cup. A light tan covered every inch of supple skin and the muscles of her thighs stood out in diamond relief as she worked herself up and down. When they finally came together – his first and only her third or fourth – she lay atop him and kissed him on the mouth.

“Good boy, Tom.” She said. She lay full-length atop him, letting her weight pin him to the mattress.

After a few minutes rest Marie dismounted and sent Tom to his cell after having him straighten up the office. The promised pillow waited for him on his bunk. He cleaned himself up as best he could, lay down and went to sleep.