Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Chapter 1 I lean forward, my back aching from sitting on this stool for so long and gently remove the last coil. Just one more before I can go get some sleep. I run the soft cloth around it, bend it a tiny bit, then gentle slide it back in. "Ahh!" I fall forward off of the stool, and cry out as my shoulder nails the giant metal machine. I rub my shoulder tenderly. I nailed it right where the arm and shoulder meet, but it looks ok. Beep! Beep! Beep! The sound makes me panic. I jump up off my feet, grab the lead shield off of the ground and hastily throw it over the machine. Shit, I think, I'm not going to-- BOOM! Chapter 2 As I slowly become conscious, all I'm aware of is the intense pain behind my right eye. I poke the eyeball tenderly, making sure it's still there. Why did the lab get so cold? My mind starts to clear. I roll over off of my stomach and my back sears as I stand up. What the hell?! I look down at my nude body. Where the hell did my clothes go?! I look around frantically. These labs have cameras! Wait, I suddenly realize. Where is the machine? Where is the stool I was on? Where-- I squint my eyes in the darkness. Surely not. I feel a cool breeze, and the dim moon is hanging high in the distance. How the fuck did I get outside?! I squint harder, praying for my eyes to adjust. Where the hell am I? A field? How did I get here? Oh no! I suddenly look around panicked. There's only one explanation. Someone found me in the lab and... and brought me here. I run into a thicket of trees a few yards away and cringe silently as I step on rocks and brush. I can't let him find me. I don't feel like I've been violated yet, so if I can just hide from whoever brought me here until he thinks I left, I'll be ok. My mind races as I stand silently behind a big scaly tree. How did I pass out? There shouldn't have been an explosion, just a near lethal dose of radiation. Wait... Why don't I feel like I'm dying? 12 Grays of radiation is enough that I should be throwing up everything I've eaten in the past week! Other than my searing headache and tender back, I feel fine. This doesn't make sense. I stand in the silence for what feels like 20 minutes. I wish I had my phone. Why would my kidnapper bring me to a field, strip me naked then leave before raping me? The thought disturbs me. My ears sharpen, and I stand even more still as that sinks in. Someone brought me here to rape me. I make myself stay calm. You're a PHd candidate working on nuclear fission, Emily! You can handle this. Just stay calm! It doesn't work though. I cover my body and shiver nervously in the cold darkness unable to get the thought of being violated out of my head. I just need to wait until I'm sure he's not coming back. The waiting is hard though. I can't stop shaking between the cold and knowing the horrid thoughts running through my head. My body, lying unconscious on the floor. Some man, probably some creepy janitor or old professor finding me, then bringing me here. What has he already done to me?! I suddenly feel dirty as the idea of some creepy hands running over my naked body passes through my head. He's at least seen me naked now and probably fondled me too. I really want to take a shower. I feel like I'm covered in filth. I can't bear standing still. I need to get to the police! Calm down! I command myself. I can't let my nerves take over. What's done is done! I wait a long time, my ears tingling with the stress of trying to hear any footsteps. Every cell in my body wants to sprint away, but I make myself wait. If he's anywhere around here, I can't let him here me. Chapter 3 I jolt awake and turn around quickly, a branch snapping a few yards behind me. Adrenaline bursts through me as I ready myself to run, but the darkness is empty. How did you fall asleep?! I scold myself. I listen to the silence a few minutes longer, then step softly out from behind the tree, this time being more careful of rocks and branches. Luckily the field is clear, and walking is easy. At first I keep my hands over my breasts and vulva, but it slows me down too much. Besides, I don't know where this creep brought me, but all I hear are owls. I don't think there's people for miles around. I panic as I start to wonder if the field is ever going to end. I slow my pace, winded, and examine my surroundings to try to calm myself. I can barely see in the pitch black night, so I walk to one of the sides of the field. Odd. I follow at least a hundred yards and the woods bordering it are perfectly straight. I walk across to the other side, judging the field to be about 100 feet across and it's the same. Continuing to move forward, I start crisscrossing the field at uneven intervals. I think I know where I am! Well, at least what the field is. I'm right. After about a half mile of crisscrossing, I barely manage to see the giant metal tower a half stride in front of me. I feel it in the darkness, and peer up it. Where the hell am I? I'm in the field of an electricity line main. I must be in the middle of no where, I peer up at the thick cables drooping fifty feet above my head. At least it means it probably leads to a road, I guess. Chapter 4 The blackness all around me slowly ebbs to dim light, and then a young, pink sun just barely rises up in the distant horizon. Ok, I'm facing east. That might help if I knew where I am, but even as my range of vision slowly increases, I have no clue. It's just generic woods on either side. Birds start chirping, first one, then an entire symphony. I've been up almost 24 hours on 7 hours of sleep, I dismally realize. Just the thought make my limbs go heavier. I count the giant towers as I go, figuring each is an 8th of a mile apart. I'm too tired to keep going much longer, but I'm going to go at least another 2 miles if my aching feet let me. I had never realized before how horrible walking barefoot in even a field is. Little branches keep poking me, and rocks keep jabbing my feet painfully. I suddenly stop as I pass the 14th of my 16 towers. Wait... How did my rap--kidnapper--get me out me here? I look at the ground, but I know I'm not going to see what I'm hoping for. Not a single sign of a tire. Shit! I realize, the tiny bit of energy I have left draining out of me. Fucking dammit! I punch my thigh. How did I not realize this sooner?! He brought me from the other damn direction! I glance behind me at all of the rolling hills I've just trekked over, debating whether to turn around. I know there has to be a road that way if someone brought me out here, but still, I'm at least 5 miles away from where I regain consciousness. After a long deliberation, I decide to finish my 16 towers and then turn around. As the 16th tower comes into view, I'm glad that I decided to stick it through. In the far distance I can see the tiniest little line cutting through the green hills. When I finally reach the road I'm too exhausted to be relieved. My feet are killing me, and every muscle in my body aches of sleep depravation. I turn to walk along the road, but after two steps, I give up, lie down in the soft grass, curl up in a ball, close my eyes and hope for the best. Chapter 5 I wake up suddenly aware that I'm floating in the air and two sets of hands are holding me under the back and knees. "Let me go!" I start flailing, afraid my kidnapper found me. I fall to the ground and spring up to run, but relief suddenly washes through me. There's a police car pulled over 10 feet away, and the two men standing in front of me are both policemen. "Thank god!" I exclaim, then quickly cover myself with my hands, suddenly aware again that I'm naked. "Someone kidnapped me!" As I look at the cops, something about them doesn't seem right. They just found a 21 year old woman naked on the side of road, but instead of concerned they look annoyed. And their uniforms: they have the standard belt with a gun, tazer and whatever else cops carry, but their shirts and pants aren't the standard navy blue, but rather beige. The car too. It looks weirdly round, like no car I've ever seen before. "What's you number?" One of the cops says gruffly, grabbing for my arm. I yank my arm away and step back a few steps. What the hell does he mean my number? Surely he can't mean phone number. But what else could he mean? The way they're both looking at me is disturbing. Their eyes are rolling all over my body. I feel like a rabbit being watched by a fox. "Just take me back into town, please!" I look up and down the road praying that someone else is coming. "Looks like a domestic," one of the cops says to the other. They both young, probably low thirties, and fit as can be. One is short with tan skin, and the other is tall and bald. Their eyes continue raking over me, and I squirm uncomfortably. What does a domestic mean? Domestic means having to do with a house, but `a domestic'? What the hell are they talking about? "Definitely," the other cop nods. "Wonder how she got way out here." "I told you! I was knocked unconscious in a lab at the university and woke up in the middle of no where stripped naked!" "You belong to the university?" "Yes, I'm a PHd student!" Their behavior is completely inappropriate! Why aren't they bothered that I'm naked?! When I get to the station, the first thing I'm doing is complaining to their captain! "Student?" The cop looks at me like I'm crazy. "Yes!" I exclaim, unable to hold in my frustrated gestures. As my boob pops out into the open, both of them look at it blatantly. "Quite a good domestic," one of the cops says like he's appraising an item in a shop. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I shout at them, flinging my hands forward dramatically, too pissed off to care about modesty. "I'm tired, scared and naked! Fucking take me to town!" "Calm down!" The bald one laughs, "you're the one that ran away!" "Ran away?!" I shout indignantly. "I was fucking kidnapped! Someone tried to rape me!" The other cop shrugs. "That's what happens when a women as attractive as you runs away." "What?!" I have to try hard not to tackle the cop and start hitting him. "I'm calling in to your station!" I march towards their car and yank open the driver side door. The inside of the car is unlike any I've seen before. There's no steering wheel, just a big, flat screen in front of the chair. The middle console where the radio should be has another smaller screen. Before I can try to figure out how to contact their standard, hands wrap around my waist and roughly yank me out of the car. "Get off of me!" I scream and kick into the air. He let's go when my foot connects with his knees, and I bolt down the road, the asphalt burning my already sore feet. Nothing makes sense. Their cars? Their uniforms? The way they're treating me? I have to get away from here! "Ahh!" I scream as a sharp pain stabs into the middle of my back. A half-second later every muscle in my body flexes as hard as it can. Pain shoots through me, then my body falls slack onto the hard ground. I try to catch my fall, but none of my muscles are listening. My face scraps along the pavement, but my body is so numb I don't even feel the pain. I try to scream and kick as a hand slips under me and the bald cop throws me over his shoulder, but I can't move a single muscle. They're all completely relaxed, like my brain isn't connected to them or something. The cop lays me on my back across the back seat, and then they both get in the car. The bald cop presses a few buttons on the screen, says "Station," and then the car starts moving. Nothing seems real. The car, the cops, my body unable to move. None of it should be happening. Where are they taking me? Are these my abductors?! The question of what the hell a domestic is and why they gave me such a strange look when I said I'm a student gnaws at me. Something is seriously wrong here. To make matters worse, I feel exposed and vulnerable. We hit a bump and my leg falls down into the floor board, leaving my legs wide open. My arms are flayed sideways, and my breasts giggle every time we hit even the smallest bump. The scariest part is how the cops keep looking back at me. They don't even try to hide it. They keep turning around and looking at my vagina and boobs like it's not even the slightest bit inappropriate. Who the hell are these guys? I ask myself, trying to block out the sick feeling their eyes raking over my body gives me. Where the hell did they get a self driving car? And why the hell did they taze an abducted woman?! What ever is about to happen, I realize, it's not going to pleasant. Best case, I think grimly, my stomach turning, I'm about to be gang-raped. Worst case, I'm about to be gang raped over and over again and then murdered. If my muscles weren't dead, I would throw up. I cringe inside as I see a hand extending in my peripheral and then feel it cup my breast. I'm glad for the numbness. I can just barely feel the pressure of his hand. As it slides down my torso towards my spread legs, I try as hard as I can to scream. I feel trapped in my body. I can't move, can't scream, can barely even see what's going on. All I can do is scream in my head as I feel a vague sensation of a finger pushing against my vagina. Chapter 6 The car stops and a deep feeling of doom settles over me. The door by my head swings open, and the bald cop looks down at me lustfully. I sink inside, trying to force myself to accept my impending rape. I just wish I could at least fight. The cop pulls me out of the back seat roughly, tosses me over his shoulder. I see a sign, and the feeling of doom clears. I'm at the police station! I expect their attitudes to change when we enter the station. Like nothing that just happened did. Like two men of the law didn't just molest a helpless woman for 15 minutes. But no. They're shameless. The man carrying me even continues holding me on his shoulder by my bare butt, his hand squeezing lightly from time to time. "Thank god!" I think as I see a man sitting at a desk. My savior! "Another run away?" he cocks his head. Shit. The feeling of doom comes back. "Yup," the man pats my butt lightly. "Way out in the middle of fucking no where." None of this makes sense. Why am I being treated as a criminal?! Why am I not being given clothes?! The rage almost overwhelms the violation. I feel like crying and punching, a giant maelstrom of emotions just waiting to lash out once I can move again. By the time I'm dumped roughly onto a cot in a jail cell, I've been groped by at least 15 men. Each desk we walk by, a man jumps up like I'm a puppy or something and touches me all over. By the time I'm flopped down onto the cot, I barely even feel violated anymore. I just feel hopeless. Not a single person questioned why a police officer was carrying a naked woman over his shoulder. I'm glad to finally be alone in the cell. I can still feel eyes looking at me, but at least the touching is over. After about 30 minutes though, a new man comes into the cage. I allow myself to build up a tiny bit of hope, but when he looks at me with the same lust filled look, I'm not surprised.. Luckily he doesn't touch me though. He just picks up my arm, turns it over and scans it with what looks like a barcode scanner. "Odd," he mutters to himself, and then picks up my left foot and scans it. "Hey Mike!" He yells towards the open cell door. "Where'd you say you picked her up?" "About 10 miles west out of town?" The bald cop appears in the cell door. "She's not registered." "Seriously?" "Nothing, no number or chip." Number? Chip? I ask myself. What the fuck are they talking about?! Once again I try to thrash around. I want to sit up straight and pull the thin sheet under me over my body, but I can still barely move. "Well she can't be a stray!" "She must be," the man with the scanner shrugs. "Look at her though!" He points at my body. "She's clean and no leg, armpit or pussy hair." "Well she's either a stray or a rebel, but I've never seen a rebel that looked like this!" Rebel? I repeat in my head. Nothing makes sense. `A domestic'? A `rebel'? Where the hell am I? "Either way, I can't imagine what she'll go for!" "Wish I had the money!" scanner-man laughs. Money?! I repeat in my head. What the hell? Chapter 7 Over the past day and half, I had almost managed to get used to the blatant stares and gropes of the police station, but the auction feels like an out of body experience. It just can't be happening. This must be some kind of fucked-up dream. There's no way I'm really tied to a giant X, spread eagle naked on a stage in a room full of 50 men. It just can't be real. "Our next item," the middle-aged auctioneer points at me, "is this young beauty." He steps behind me and roles the giant X I'm tied to towards the front of the stage. It's almost amusing. I must really be worried about my doctoral thesis defense presentation if I'm having this weird of dream. Can't I just dream that I showed up naked? Do I really need to dream this? "The police believe her to be a stray, but as you can see, she's not your average stray." "She hasn't showered in a long time, but other than that, she's healthy as can be." I shake my head to myself amused at my subconscious. What a crazy dream. Even as I'm untied, pushed to my hands and knees and my butt and vagina are shown openly to the crowd I can't help but chuckle to myself. When I wake up in the morning, I'm definitely going to have to try to remember this one. I've had show up to class naked dreams before, but auctioned off naked? This is definitely new. "We normally start stray auctions at 0," auctioneer spanks me lightly and pulls me back up onto my feet, "but for this beauty, the bidding begins at 10 thousand." A paddle instantly flies up in the crowd. "Ok, we got ten thousand!" The auctioneer yells a silly auctioneer voice. "Can I get 12? 12? Looking for 12 thousand!" Paddles quickly raise all the way to 30 thousand. I laugh at the insanity of it. I'm going to have to ask my psych friend what the hell this dream means when I wake up. The auctioneer bounces my boob in his hand and I laugh uncontrollably. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to go to freaking therapy. I can't imagine what a shrink would say about this. I make a funny face at the auctioneer, cup my other boob and shake it, laughing. If my subconscious wants to tease me, I'll play along! "See!" the auctioneer shouts into his mic, "She's even playful!" The number of paddles flying up quickly slows. At 38 thousand, there's one lone paddle. "38? We got 38!" The auctioneer barks, "can I get 40? Looking for 40 thousand!" I look out at the crowd, waiting anxiously to see what my subconscious has in store. "Going once," he motions at my body, and I peer out into the crowd trying to figure out who my new owner is. "Going twice!" "40!" A paddle flies up. When I see the man holding up his paddle, I smile a bit. I think the dream is about to take a fun twist. He's young, maybe early thirties or late twenties, with short, dark black hair and green eyes that I can see even from 20 feet away. He's wearing a nice suit, has a strong, masculine face with a chiseled jaw line and looks just as ripped as every other man I've seen so far. Definitely looks like the type for a fun dream. Chapter 8 I'm starting to wonder if this dream is about patience and not nerves. I sure have spent a lot of time waiting in this dream. Finally after about 20 minutes my dream-owner enters the room followed by the auctioneer and a cop. "So, dream-owner, I run my hand down his chest and smile at him, when are we going to get to it?" Now that I know where the dream is going, I'm ready. I haven't had sex in over 6 months when my boyfriend and I broke up, and I don't know I've ever had a sex dream this vivid. With all the stress I've had lately, I welcome the dream. Dream sex is always the best after all. "Dream-owner?" he looks at the other two men. "You said she had been acting a bit crazy, but she thinks she's dreaming?" "That's new!" The cop shakes his head defensively. "Well she's still a beauty," the auctioneer smiles. "Yeah," dream-owner nods, "she'll do great." "She didn't come into the station with any clothes or belongings?" Dream-owner looks around the bare room confused. "Like he said," the cop shrugs, "we found her naked on the side of the road in the middle of no where." "I still don't see how a body like hers wasn't registered!" my owner shakes his head in disbelief. "Guess it worked out well though!" Chapter 9 "This better be some really good dream sex after all this build up!" I turn to dream-owner and smile as he gets in the other side of the car and starts tapping on the screen. "You'll be having plenty of sex soon enough, but this isn't a dream," he shakes his head. "My subconscious is freaking weird!" I laugh and start tapping on the screen in front of me, curious what kind of future computer my subconscious conjured up. I point at the big back seat as the car starts driving itself. "We could go ahead and get started! Never had sex in a moving car before!" "They said you had shown a few signs of mental instability," he shakes his head to himself, "but you're just batshit crazy." "That's never very nice," I smile mischievously and run my hand up his thigh. "Calm down," he pushes my hand away, "there will be plenty of time for that later!" "Oh come on!" I rub his crotch, "it's my dream!" "I am actually kind of horny," he shrugs, reaches under his seat and slides it back. I smile at him anxiously as he unzips his pants and pulls them down around his ankles. I'm wet just looking at him. Chiseled jaw line, bright green eyes, power suit, ripped body. My subconscious sure can pick them. "Apparently in my subconscious," I smile at him as I climb over and start to straddle him, "I like big dicks." "Big?" He laughs, pushing me off of him and back into my seat. "I'm average." I laugh. Oh subconscious. "Want to get in the back?" I start climbing back there, interpreting his pushing me off as a yes. "No," he shakes his head, "that's illegal." "It's a dream!" I pat his head from the seat behind him. "Nothing matters!" He turns around and looks at me concerned. "You're not really crazy are you?" "Of course not!" I laugh, slipping a finger into my wet vagina. "My subconscious just thinks I need a good fuck!" "Seriously," his look of concern deepens, "I mean it. You know this isn't a dream, right?" "Yeah, sure, whatever!" I smile and point down at my wet, ready pussy. "Now come back here and fuck me!" "This isn't a dream!" He exclaims, frustrated. I don't know why my subconscious won't just acknowledge that it's a dream. I guess I'm not capable of lucid dreams. Whatever. "Now get back up here!" I crawl back into the front seat and start to straddle him again. "No!" He pushes me off of him and back into the passenger seat. "Even a stray should know it's illegal to have sex while driving!" "Oh come on!" I point at his massive erection and spread my legs to show him my wetness. "You obviously want to!" "No," he shakes his head and points down at his erection, "I want you to get out of crazy land for a few minutes and suck me off." "No, no, no," I shake my head. "This is my dream, and I don't like giving head. I know you're doing your little subconscious thing," I shake my head playfully, "but in my dream we do what I want." "This isn't a dream!" dream-owned shouts exasperatedly. "And I know you were a stray, but I'm your owner now, and we do what I want!" "No," I shake my head, amused. I can't believe I'm arguing with my subconscious. I'll definitely have to ask my psych friend about this. "People don't own people any more. This isn't the 1800s!" "No," he shakes his head, "of course this isn't the 1800s! But men do own women, and I own you! Now stop talking crazy non-sense and suck my dick!" I ignore him and move over to straddle him again. Anger flares up violently in his eyes, his hands roughly grab my arms, and he slams me into the passenger seat, his face inches in front of mine. "Stop pretending you think you're in some kind of dream and behave yourself!" The strength of his grasp and the anger in his eyes scares me for a second before I remember it's just a dream. "Or what?" I smile playfully. "Or I'm going to stop this car and wake you up!" "Ooo, that sounds nice!" I smile seductively. "I'm not kidding!" his hold relaxes slightly. "I've never hit one of our domestics before, but if I need to knock some since into you, I'll gladly bruise that pretty little face!" Nerves tingle all over my body, and I stare at him in shock. I completely believe him. After a long moment, I slowly start to smile and nod my head. "I never knew I had a little bit of freakiness in me! Didn't know this would turn into a rough sex dream!" Dream-owner sits back down flat against his seat, closes his eyes and exhales slowly. "This isn't a dream," he turns to me, "and I don't want to get rough. So please," he points down at his crotch, "stop playing games and just suck me off like I told you to." "Yes, sir," I smile naughtily, lean over and take his dick into mouth. His body relaxes as I start working him over, and I get into it, figuring I might as well go for it in the dream. I even try to see how far down it I can get a few times, but even in my dream I can't get past about ¾ of it. "Ohhh," he exhales and leans his seat back. "It's good to have a domestic again!" He puts his hand on the back of my head, and I start to tell him to move it, but figure whatever, it's just a dream. I can let him lead me a little bit if he wants. I slurp up and down his pole for a long time as the car continues zipping down the road. As I give him head, I finger myself, and I stop sucking as I cum on my hand. "What are you doing?" he pulls my hand away from my vagina and pushes my face back down. "I didn't tell you to finger yourself." I try to move my hand back, but he holds my wrist until my wasted orgasm passes. As his moaning grows faster though, I stop for second. Even in a dream there's one thing I won't do. "Tell me when you're about to by the way. I don't swallow." "Of course you do!" He pushes my face back onto his dick roughly. Whatever, I shrug a bit to myself and go back to slurping up and down his shaft. I tried to warn him. When he starts cumming, I pull my face away, grab his shaft and start jacking him off quickly. "What the fuck are you doing!" A hand grabs the back of my head and tries to force it back towards his dick. I resist and continue stroking even faster. "I said you swallow!" He pushes harder on the back of my head. "No, no!" his legs start tensing and he pushes even harder on my head. His hand falls from the back of my head and he starts moaning, large spurts of cum shooting up nearly a foot into the air and onto his chest. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" He groans with each shot. I'm glad I didn't swallow! He shoots a dozen times, each time a large string of semen arcing through the air. "See," I shrug when he leans up and tell him the same thing I used to tell my ex, "not swallowing felt just as good!" "No!" he stares at me angrily. "Look at my fucking suit!" I shrug at the globs of cum all over it. A sharp pain sears up on the back of my head, then my face is yanked an inch in front of his, a hand buried firmly in my hair. "This is not a fucking dream!" He yanks my head sideways. I try to back away from him but his hand is holding me firmly, the roots searing in pain. His face is contorted in anger and his green eyes are blazing with rage. "And I own you!" I try again to shrink away, but it just hurts my hair. "Now stop being crazy, and don't make me beat you on the first day I've even had you!" He pushes my head away from his hand roughly and sits back into his seat. "Most men would beat the shit out of you for this!" he points at one of the globs of semen. I sink into my seat silently. I don't like my dream anymore. It's turned from a little bit kinky to violent. I feel scared. Like I might really get hurt. "I know you're a stray, so you don't quite understand how this works," he points between us, "but I own you! You're my domestic slave!" I mull over what he just said as we sit silently in the car. I'm definitely ready to wake up now! This dream just took a weird twist. I could handle the groping and the auction was kind of fun in it's ridiculousness, but that hair pulling really hurt! Everything about the dream feels so real, I realize as the car speeds down the road. Never before have I waited in a dream. And that pain. My scalp is still burning. But still, none of it makes sense. This isn't reality. People aren't slaves. And men owning women? How would society ever allow that? It's nonsense. I want to believe it's a dream, but part of me just can't believe it. Even the soft felt of the seat o feels so real against my bare bottom. A pit starts forming in my stomach again. "If this isn't a dream," I turn slowly towards his still angry face, "then... how did I get from a Berkeley lab to being a slave?" "Berkeley?" his anger softens a little bit. "The university," I nod like I'm answering a really stupid question. "There's no university called `Berkeley'," he looks at me like I'm just as stupid. "Of course there is," I nod, partly to him and partly to reassure myself, "here in California." "Cal-a-forn-ya?" He repeats the word like he's never heard it before. "The state we're in!" I point out the window. He shakes his head. "We're in Rona, Lacar." "No," I shake my head, "that's some weird name you just made up." "I've lived here since 1213," he shakes his head, "I doubt I made it up." "1213?" I laugh. "It's 2012!" He looks at me for a long time like with a look of deep confusion on his face. "No," he shakes his head and taps on the screen in front of him, bringing it to life and pointing at it, "it's 1223." "That's not possible," I laugh, relieved. How could this not be a dream. I'm stupid. Just freaked out for a second. "That would be a thousand years in the past." "No," he shakes his head, "that would be in the future." "I'm so ready to wake up," I shake my head. "This really isn't a dream," he shakes his head back, his anger now replaced with concern. He reaches out and pinches my arm sharply. "Owww!" I scream and pull my arm back. He looks at me for a long moment, the same look of confusion and pity still on his face. "Did that feel like a dream?" "No," I shake my head slowly, trying to think of an explanation. "But this just can't be real!" "Why not?" he asks patiently. "Because I'm a middle class white girl that goes to one of the best universities in the world, not a slave!" "Women don't go to university," he shakes head. "Unless the university owns them of course." The concern on his face deepens as his gaze lingers on me. "I can get you psychiatric help if you want," he smiles tentatively. "I'm not crazy!" I shout, frustrated. "Well, you're not sane," he smiles, a hint of amusement on the edges of his lips. "My name is Emily Stone," I explain to him and remind myself, "I'm 21 years old, my parents are named Mark and Julie, and I'm a nuclear physicist." His amusement instantly vanishes, and the next thing I know my face is an inch from his and the searing pain has returned to my scalp. "How do you know what that is!?" "Owwww! Let go!" I try to push his hand out of my hair, only causing more pain. "How the fuck do you know what that is?!" Flecks of spit land on my face. "Do the rebels have nuclear weapons?!" I look at him utterly confused. Rebels? Weapons? "I don't know what you're talking about!" I try again to push his hand away. He pulls my head sideways I scream in pain. He speaks slowly and deliberately: "How the fuck do you know what nuclear weapons are?" "I don't know!" I try to back away. "Everyone knows!" "Only 16 people in the world know what they are!" He screams in my face. "How the fuck does a run away slave?!" "I'm a student!" I yell back desperately. I feel like he's about to rip my hair out. He slams my head into the dashboard, then yanks my face back in front of his. "Tell me or I will kill you right here!" "I don't know!" Tears pour out of my eyes. His hand grabs my throat, and he leaps on top of me, pinning me flat against the seat. "Who is the mole!" he screams. "I don't know what you're talking about!" I breathe back panicked, my vision already starting to blacken. "Who told you what nuclear weapons are!" he grabs my nose with his other hand and starts twisting it like he's going to break it. "My fifth grade history teacher!" I barely manage to huff out through my closed through. "What?!" His grip loosens just enough to let me suck in a gulp of air, and he removes his hand from my nose. He looks at me for a long moment like he's deciding whether I'm crazy or not. "I just want to wake up and go home!" I sob, warm tears running down the sides of my head. He lets go of my throat, sits back down in his seat, pulls a little black electronic object out of his pants pocket, flips it open and looks at it for a long time. I cower against the door like a dog that was just kicked by its owner. "I can't decide if you're crazy or dangerous," he looks up at me from what I think is his phone. "Everyone knows what nukes are!" I try desperately to explain my case. "World War II and all that? The atomic bombs? 10 years old learn about it!" I choke out through tears. He looks between his phone and me like he's torn. "If I call this in the to the government like I should," he holds up his phone, "they're going to torture and kill you." "Please, please no!" my sobbing intensifies. I tell myself it's just a dream, but I can't stop shaking. "I don't even know who the rebels are!" "I should really report this," he puts his phone back in his pocket and shakes his head slowly. "I just don't think you're a spy though." "This is bad..." He says mostly to himself. "Of all people to end up with you, me." "If only 16 people in the world know," I realize and choke through tears, "how do you know?" "I shouldn't tell you this," he shakes his head and smiles, "but if you are a spy, you probably already know. I'm the Minister of Defense." "What?!" I laugh through my tears, relieved. I had begun doubting it, but no, definitely a dream. "Seriously," he nods, "I am. My identity is kept a secret so the Rebels can't try to assassinate me." "No, no, no," I shake my head, the tears now slowing. "This is ridiculous. This can't be real!" He pinches me again, this time a lot lighter. "No," I continue shaking my head. "This is just too far out. My subconscious is fucking with me!" He raises one eyebrow and looks at me for a moment. "And, how long have you been dreaming?" "However long I've been sleeping." "No," he shakes his head. "I mean how long has this `dream' been?" I don't know what to say back. He has a point. I've never dreamt a dream that was 3 days before. And all the waiting. It's actually felt like 3 days. But, no. It can't be reality. It must just be a weird dream. I can't remember how I got here after all. I just remember being in the lab then waking up in a field. That's how dreams work, I think? You just are suddenly in a new location with no idea how you go there. But wait, I slowly realize, I do remember the lab. Is that a memory my dream fabricated? It must be! Exposure to 12 Grays without prompt treatment and I would've been dead 2 and a half days ago. But the lab seems so real. I can even remember the entire day leading up to it. And the day before that. And before that. There's no way my dream fabricated an entire span of memories? The only way that would make sense would be if I had been dreaming this long. But people don't sleep for long enough for dreams to last continuous weeks. I would have to sleep for a month, like I was in a-- "Oh my god!" I turn to the man and exclaim. "I'm in a coma!" He looks at me like he now knows for sure that I'm insane. "It's the only way I could have been dreaming this long!" I exclaim happily, glad to have figured out that this isn't reality. That I'm not actually a slave, and that I wasn't just really almost murdered. "The auctioneer should have been much more specific," he shakes his head slowly. "I thought he meant you just weren't adapted to society like you'd expect for a stray. I didn't realize he meant that you're delusional!" "I'm not crazy!" I defend. "I just apparently have really weird dreams." He shakes his head again, but doesn't say anything. Chapter 10 We drive east, way out of Berkeley and maybe even past the state parks. The houses are becoming more spaced apart and bigger as the car zips past each one. The car is still tense, but the silence goes on, I begin to relax a bit and stop watching the man like he's a dangerous animal. "Do you have a big ass house like one of these?" I point at a gate that has a cursive R on it with a huge house in the background. "Yes," he nods. "Though the government technically owns it." I nod, then lightly add, "I guess they set up the Minister of Defense." He forces a small laugh. "We'll be there in about a minute." The house is huge. The biggest one I've seen yet. With the red brick and giant white columns, it looks like something I'd expect to see on television. As we drive through the still opening gate, dream-owner nods his head and smiles slightly at two guards I hadn't even seen in the little hut by the gate. One of them steps out a little bit to wave. He's wearing normal-ish looking clothes, but to my surprise he has an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. I guess he wasn't making up being the Minster of Defense. "There's another two that walk around the perimeter," he circles in the air. "Doesn't that kind of give away that this is the house of a high value target?" I don't know much about tactics, but that much seems obvious. He looks at me a bit taken aback. I guess he's surprised that the thought occurred to me. "Yeah," he nods as the car glides to the side of the house and a garage door starts opening. "They're more of a last line of defense though." He points up at the sky as he opens his door and steps out. "Satellites." There's three cars in the garage. I don't know if they're for his family or all his. Thinking about his family makes me realize something. "Do you have a wife?" I ask as he presses a button on the screen and the car's engine dies. "What's that?" He looks back at me blankly. "You know, like a woman you marry and live with?" "Marry?" "Vows, rings," I look at him confused, "preacher, all that?" "Preacher?" "Nevermind," I shake my head. He sits quietly for a second looking down at his hands in his lap. "Look," he turns to me. "I'm sorry about earlier. I promise you that I don't treat our domestics like that." "I just..." He pauses and looks back down at his hands then up at me. "Needed to know." Chapter 11 "Door, open," he says and keeps walking towards the door. It swings open, we both walk through it then, over his shoulder he says, "door, lock." "Your doors can listen to you?" I ask him as we walk down the hardwood hallway. "Of course," he nods. "Most of the house can." The house is extremely nice. Even nicer than I expected. As we enter the kitchen, it's immaculately clean. There's granite counter tops and fancy looking appliances all with their own flat screens embedded in them where I would expect buttons. Even the bar stools at a raised part of the counters looks expensive. I eye the cabinets hungrily. The jail food was terrible, and I haven't had anything to eat today. "Hungry?" "I'm starving!" "Help yourself," he points at a door. "I'm going to go change out of this," he looks down at his semen covered suit. Their pantry is huge and full of food. Everything imaginable from cereal to canned goods to crackers and bread. I grab a package of peanut butter cracks and go sit in a barstool. As I eat the crackers, I contemplate my situation. If this dream goes on as long as the lab dream did, then I'm stuck here for a long time. I think back to the car ride uncomfortably, remembering him choking me. At least he said he wouldn't hurt me anymore I guess. It's strange though how I don't really hate him or anything. After what he did, I should want to murder him. I feel surprisingly neutral about it though. Maybe it's because I know I'd do the same thing if I were him. If my subconscious really is strong enough to fabricate an entire human life, then the man probably really thought I could be a spy. It's strange how different this world is. I wonder what made my subconscious come up with it. It almost seems like it could pass as the near future. Like I've been transported a hundred years forward or something. If that's the case though, I have no idea why my brain decided to make the year 800 years in the past. This definitely isn't the late middle ages. The only way that year would make sense would be if the middle ages had actually been more high tech than us and somehow that technology had been lost. I freeze with a cracker halfway in my mouth as two thoughts simultaneously pop into my mind. One is a memory of me talking to Dr. Johnson 3 days after I had been accepted as his grad student. "Well, we're either going to create a new energy source, or we're going to open a black hole, depending on who you ask." The other thought is even scarier. As a scientist, I of all people should have considered scale. I quickly finish the pack of crackers and nervously eat 3 more before I hear footsteps behind me. "What is the full year?" I jump off the stool and turn around, barely registering that all he's wearing now is boxers. "1223 PB." Holy shit! I look at him dumbly, trying to decide if I think it's actually possible. Could the reactor have... No. There's no way. We ran the simulation a million times. There's no way the paranoid fanatics were right. There's no way the reactor actually opened a black hole. And if it did, well, I wouldn't be in the future. I'd be dead. Very dead! The only way that would make sense would be-- "Oh my god!" I say aloud. "It did open a black hole!" Dream-owner--no!--Actual owner is looking at me like I'm insane. I can't help but wonder if I am. "It opened a black hole that closed before I could get pulled into it!" I continue explaining to myself aloud. "For just a billionth of a second," I try to do the math in my head, various equations flashing through my mind. "I'm in the future!" "Are you ok?" "What year would 1223 PB be in AD?" "AD?" he looks at me confused. "I don't know off the top of my head. Maybe... 3600ish?" "Holy shit!" I mutter to myself. "I'm really here." "What are you talking about?!" "I'm from 1600 years ago!" He looks at me like I'm even crazier. "I'm not dreaming!" I shake my head in disbelief. "I'm in the fucking future!" "Oh shit, shit, shit!" I start shaking uncontrollably, realizing what that means. I'm stuck here. Forever. Shit! "No, no! I can't be a slave!" I turn to him. "I'm not from now! This isn't my world!" "Sorry," he laughs and pats me on the shoulder, "but I just paid 65 thousand dollars for you after taxes." "No, no!" I shake my head again, walking across the room. "Where I'm from men and women are equal! We're not slaves! This isn't fair!" "Calm down," he steps towards me and grabs my arms lightly. "No!" I slap his hands away. "Why me! I'm not a slave! I'm a physicist!" "Please, calm down!" "You... you raped me!" I point at him, walking backwards. That wasn't a fantasy in the car! He actually made me suck his dick! I back down the hallway slowly, watching him. "You actually hit me! That was all real!" My body is shaking feverishly, and I start heaving nauseously. I tenderly rub my head remembering what he did to me. I turn around, grasping for a doorknob, but this isn't one. "Door open!" tears start pouring down my face and I shake uncontrollably as the door stands still. I turn back around to face him, and I'm cornered. He's about 10 feet away, and slowly moving closer. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" I scream to myself frantically, my arms crossed tightly as I slide down the door onto the floor. "This isn't happening! I'm at home in my bed!" "Wake up! Wake up!" I start slap my tear streaked face. "No! No!" I pound on the floor. "Not me!" A hand grabs my arm lightly, and I kick and punch at the man above me until he backs away. I scream, cry and curse into my curse into I'm tired, then curl into a ball and sob uncontrollably. Chapter 12 I cry until my eyes run dry and my body is shaking. This just can't be happening! I open my eyes as I become aware of blanket that he must've placed on me at some point. I hold it around me for a long time, my eyes closed, my legs locked against my chest, my entire body hidden under the soft shield. "Are you ok?" A voice tenderly asks, bringing me halfway back to reality. I peel the blanket back just enough to see the man standing a few feet away looking down at me. I nod my head, and then the tears start again. "Come on," he moves forward slowly, a dark blue bruise already formed on his leg from where I kicked him. "I'll show you where your room is, and you can have some time to yourself." I nod as I stand up, unable to speak through the tears. He takes me to a door a few feet away, then up two flights of steps. "Here we go," he walks with me over towards the bed. "The boys won't be home for a while," he pats me softly on the back, "so I'll let you try to work through this." I nod, trying to say thank you, but nothing comes out through the tears. Chapter 13 I wake up to a knocking at the door. My face feels raw, my head hurts, and I'm out of tears. I exhale slowly, trying to compose myself. "Come in," I finally yell quietly towards the door. "Are you doing better?" the man asks, walking in carrying a cup of water and something in his hand. "Do I have to be a slave?" I say more towards the universe than him. "Yes," he nods his head slowly, handing me the cup of water. "You have to." He hands me two pills and I look at him cautiously, not sure what they are. "For you head." Nearly the moment they touch my tongue I can already feel my headache start lightening. "Are you thinking more clearly now?" He takes the cup from me and helps me stand up. "Yeah." "I want to apologize again about earlier in the car," he looks down guiltily. "I should have asked you questions nicely first." He looks at me like he's expecting me to say something back, but I don't. "I have some food downstairs if you're hungry." "Can I put some clothes on?" I look down at the blanket wrapped around my bare body. "Why?" he looks confused. I start to explain female modesty and tell him that I'm not used to being naked. That probably wouldn't make any sense to him though, I realize. He's used to women being sex-toys, not shy people. "It would make me more comfortable." He thinks for a second, but eventually nods. "We don't have any female clothes, but you can wear a pair of my boxers and a t-shirt I guess." He returns a minute later carrying a shirt and boxers like the ones he's wearing. I wait for him to leave the room or look away or something, but he just keeps watching me. "Can you uh, look away for a second?" He starts to protest, but decides to just turn around. I stand up and quickly slip the clothes on. Both are too big, and my nipples poke through the thin shirt obscenely, but it's nice to be at least partially covered after the last 3 days of being completely nude. "Ok." "Let's go eat," he turns back around. "The food's getting cold." Chapter 14 Seeing the steaming frozen lasagna in a little black paper container, I realize how hungry I am. "I haven't eaten in a day and a half!" I say mostly to myself as I grab the second plate on the counter and spoon some of the food onto my plate after the man. "There's bread too," he points over at the island behind us with a pan sitting on the granite counter tops. We both eat in silence for a long time, our chewing and occasional sips of water the only sounds in the house. "So if you're a stray," the man looks up at me, a hunk of noodles, cheese and meat perched on his fork, "I guess you don't know how this all works?" I start to explain the black hole to him again, but figure whatever. I might as well be a stray as far as he's concerned. "No idea at all," I shake my head. "Hmmm," he thinks for a moment. "You must have a lot of questions then?" "A million!" I nod my head. "Ask whatever you want, and I'll tell you anything you miss after," he motions towards me with his empty fork. "Can I ever get my freedom?" I ask the question that gnawed at me as I cried my eyes dry. "10 or 15 years from now you might be able to become partially free, but free like a man? No." "Partially?" A small bit of hope wells up inside of me. "Once domestics start losing their attractiveness, they sometimes become factory workers or seamstresses." I nod, thinking about that. I could probably handle that. Not exactly the nuclear physics I want to do, but I can definitely imagine worse. "Why am I a slave?" Saying it aloud feels odd, like calling myself a slave means that I've accepted it. He looks at me for a long moment, confused what I mean. "Because you're female?" "But why are females slaves?" I clarify. "You don't even know that?" he asks, surprised. "No," I shake my head. "I don't know anything about your society." "Well," he takes a sip of water, "if children were born naturally, only 1 in 10,000 would be a healthy male." "Born naturally?" I question. "You don't know about specializations or anything?" "No," I shake my head. "So you weren't born a domestic?" he cocks his head slightly and furrows his eyebrows. "No," I laugh grimly to myself, "I was born a free woman." "You seriously weren't bred a domestic?" I shake my head again. "You naturally look like that?" he points at me. I shrug and shake my head. "Are you sure you're not a bred domestic?" he asks again like he doesn't believe me. "Wow!" he shakes his head in disbelief. "But you're so hot!" I blush, and then blush harder realizing how silly it is that I'm flattered by my owner's compliment. Guys used to look at me when I walked in to rooms a lot, and my ex boyfriend used to tell me that if I traded the lab coat for a bikini I could be a model, but I always thought he was being nice. "Anyway," he shakes his head again, "most people are just normal people, but there's a few specializations that have been bred and altered." "Domestics are one of them," he points at me. "They haven't been genetically modified like some of the other specializations, but they've been bred to be extremely attractive." "I really can't believe that you weren't bred a domestic," he looks at me in disbelief again. "You easily beat 98% of all of the domestics I've ever seen." I blush again and try to make myself stop. He's not complimenting me, he's complimenting something he owns. "Anyway," he continues, "natural births haven't happened in 300 years. There's specially bred breeders for that." "Breeders?" I question. "My sons are actually studs," he nods. "What?!" I look at him worried. "I have to have a baby?!" "No of course not! You're not a breeder." "James is 16, and Jeremy is 14, so they won't start studding for 2 and 4 years." "So..." I look at the man worried, twirling the last piece of lasagna on my fork. "If you have sons... And in the car, you said I have to..." "Yes," he nods. "They'll both be having sex with you." A rush of nausea bursts up inside of me, and I have to try hard to keep my food down. I have a strong urge to run back upstairs and start crying again. "But... But..." I say quietly to myself, murmurs of a desperate woman. "But that's illegal!" "Illegal?" the man looks confused. "I'm 21!" I shake my head, hoping I can get out of this. "It's rape if I have sex with anyone under 18!" "What the hell are you talking about?" he looks at me like I'm crazy. "How can your owners rape you?" "They're under the age of consent!" "Age of consent?" he repeats the words like they're foreign. "You know! 18 to consent to having sex!" "18?" he shakes his head. "Where did you hear that?" "Do you not have a minimum age of consent?!" I say just as shocked. "Of course we do! You can't buy a domestic younger than 12." "12?!" "Mmhmm," he nods as he grabs his plate and stands up. "Want any more," he points to my plate. "Yes, please," I nod, my stomach still empty from a day of hunger. "People can buy 12 year olds and have sex with them?" I look at him as he heaps more food on both of our plates." "Yeah," he nods as he slides my plate back in front of me. "Thanks," I say quietly. "People usually buy them for their children," he continues once he sits down with his food. "When James was 12 or 13, we used to have a 14 year old for him and Jeremy." I look at the man in shock for a moment. "You used to have sex with a 14 year old?" I ask him hesitantly, not sure if I want to hear the answer. "We also had an 18 year old then, and I preferred her," he shrugs, "but if I was horny and she was busy, pussy is pussy." "That's sick!" He laughs slightly. "You sound like an age protester." "People who think the minimum age should be raised to 14 or 16," he explains upon seeing my confusion. "Or 18!" He laughs again slightly. "Most people just buy them for their similarly aged sons or as an investment. Most people are like me: I much prefer a girl like you with big tits and a full ass, but if I'm horny and all that's available is my son's 14 year old, whatever," he shrugs, "I'll take it." "That's horrible!" I imagine all the young girls, almost children, being forced to do god knows what, and the nausea returns. "They make good investments," he shrugs. "You can buy a 12 or 13 year old for 20 or 30 grand, wait 3 or 4 years until she's developed, then sell her for 5 or 6 times that." "What is a dollar worth?" I ask, morbidly curious how highly this society views a female life. "Like what would a gallon of milk or a generic car cost?" "A liter of milk is $4, and a mid range car would be a hundred thousand or so." "You can buy a woman for less than a car?!" "There's 35 million women and 3 million men in the world," he smiles. "Not exactly a lack of supply." "That's fucked up!" I nearly shout. I can't believe he bought me for less than a car. I'm a human being! I'm a person just like him! If people are going to be bought and sold, they could at least do us the courtesy of valuing us extremely highly! "If it makes you feel any better, at a proper auction and not a police one, you'd probably go for 200 or 300 thousand." It actually makes me feel worse. That means he could sell me tomorrow and make a profit of 200 thousand dollars. Despite our little altercation in the car, I have the vague feeling that he's at least a half decent man and just a victim of society's beliefs. And besides, if he's the minister of defense, maybe I can convince him my nuclear knowledge is of more value to him than the hole between my legs. "I could help you!" I finish formulating the thought in my head. I don't know why it didn't occur to my sooner. I knew I should've stayed calm. I knew I shouldn't have let myself break down and cry like a little child. Dammit, I should have been planning my dismal future. "I can help you with nucle--" "Shhh!" he loudly sounds, his finger over his mouth. "Never say that word again!" "I can help you!" I repeat. "I'm a--I was a grad student under one of the leading nuc--physicists in the world!" "No," he shakes his head. "You don't know anything useful. You just heard the word from some rebel somewhere." "Seriously!" I look at him, leaning almost halfway over the table. "If that few people know about it, I bet I know more than all of them combined!" He laughs at me like I'm crazy. "There's no way." "Ask me something!" He laughs again. "Seriously! Ask me anything!" "Did I finish explaining what specializations are?" he tries to change the topic. "Ask me something!" I prompt him again. "No," he shakes his head. "Ask me!" I keep pushing. "How about bombs? I can tell you how a nuclear bomb works!" "Shhh!" he hushes me. "What the hell is wrong with you! I told you not to talk about that anymore!" "All it takes is--" "If you say one more word about that," he leans closer to me and threatens, "I'm going to gag you for the rest of the night." "But I'm just--" "One more word!" he points at me. "And you'll have a gag in your mouth and your hands tied behind your back until James and Jeremy come home." I look at him for a second, deciding if he'd really do that. I don't think he would, but I have a lot of questions I want to have answered. "Fine," I huff. "What are specializations?" "Some of them," he motions towards me, "like domestics have just been selectively bred, but some like breeders and studs have been bred and altered." "Breeders have been bred to have very high rates of healthy children, and they've been modified over the past 12 generations to have shorter and shorter gestation periods." "You mean they aren't pregnant for nine months?" I didn't even know you could modify a human like that. "They're pregnant for 3," he nods. I think about popping out a baby every 3 months, and a sick feeling of luckiness creeps into my head. I still can't believe I'm a slave, but damn, popping out a baby every 3 months would be horrible. "And studs," he continues, "are bred and modified to have much, much higher virility, stamina and sex drive than normal men." Oh god. The implications of that hit me like a bus. "So if you're sons are studs--" "Yes," he laughs a bit. "You'll be quite busy between the two of them." "How much higher sex drive?" I ask fearfully. "Now or once they start studding?" "Both," I shrug. "When studs turn 17, they start treatments, and by the time they start studding at 18, they'll easily have sex 30 to 40 times in a day." "What?!" I look at him in horror. I can't do that! I'll be bleeding raw! "Don't worry," he shakes his head and smiles. "Their natural sex drive isn't nearly that high." I sigh aloud in relief. "With the two girls we just sold, they used to have sex three or four times a day." "Each?!" "Yeah," he nods like it's normal. "Before school, then once they get home, then once or twice later in the day." I exhale slowly and lie my head flat on the table. I can't do this. I thought I could handle this slavery craziness, but I have to be their whore a dozen times a day? I can't accept that. It just can't be my life! I'm a scientist, not a cum dumpster! "Monday I'm going to get a second girl," he talks to the back of my laid-down head, "but this weekend you'll be very busy." I exhale again and close my eyes. Maybe I can wake up from this. Maybe this is just a dream gone horribly wrong. I can't really be here. Time travel isn't possible! Einstein proved that 70 years ago! But no, the hard table under my face and the slick floor under my feet feel just as real as the intense dread tightening my stomach. I turn my face up, my chin resting on the table and shake my head back and forth. "I can't do this," I say quietly. "I can't handle this." He laughs a bit and smiles down at me. "You should be happy really." I close my eyes and lie my face back down on the table. "Domestics are the lucky ones. If you were a soldier, laborer or factory worker, you'd have to work endless hours doing grueling physical labor and hoping you don't get hurt." "Domestics barely have to do anything. You get a roof over your head, all the food you can eat, and any kind of health care you need, and all you have to in return is spend a few hours cooking and cleaning everyday, and lie down and spread your legs every now and then." I sit back up angrily, cross my arms and glare at him. "Just because you think it's a good deal doesn't mean I agreed to it!" "You can't just force all women to be slaves!" "No," he shakes his head. "It's necessary. With the horrible imbalance in birth rates, women have no other place. The human race would die out otherwise." "Maybe it should die out then!" I shout back at him. He keeps shaking his head and looking at me patiently, like I'm incapable of understanding. "You'll understand soon enough that you're one of the lucky ones." Chapter 15 We both eat our second helpings in silence. I can't believe he thinks I'm lucky to be a slave. What the hell kind of logic is that?! A gender imbalance? Why would letting women be free mean the end of the human race? And what I'm going to have to do. I can't stop thinking about that. A 14 year old and a 16 year old. 10 times a day. I don't know if my body can even handle that! "Do you have any more questions, or should I go over my rules and expectations?" I glare at him silently. I'm too angry at ask any more questions. "My expectations are simple: keep the house clean, cook breakfast and dinner, and keep yourself up." He lingers a second to make sure I'm following along. "Cleaning just means making sure the house is put together and neat, and taking care of everyone's laundry." He points towards the stove. "Once you've been trained, during the week, I'll expect you to have breakfast ready at 7 every morning and dinner ready at 7 every night." "Do you know what I mean by keep yourself clean?" He raises his eyebrows. I make myself shake my head, not really caring. "Just personal hygiene," he nods. "Monday after I finish having you registered, I'll take you to have your legs, pits and pussy lazered, so you don't have to worry about hair." I keep nodding along, unable to stop thinking about how terrible my life is about to become. "My last expectation is mine and the son's sexual needs. I shouldn't need to explain that: just do whatever we want." "Any questions?" I shake my head. All seems pretty simple to me. I'm just a run of the mill, cooking, cleaning and sex slave. It feels like pre-feminism gone horribly wrong. "On to rules then." "There's a few more rules you'll learn in training, but for now I just have a few." "The first is that I'm ultimately in control. You're at the very bottom under both James and Jeremy, but if something I say and something either of them says conflicts, you listen to me." He waits for me to nod my head. "The second is that you need to understand that we are entitled to do anything we want with you. When we say do something, do it, or you will be punished." "In particular James doesn't have much patience for disobedient domestics." He points at his chest. "If I had been James in the car earlier, he would've pulled over the car, dragged you out of it, and," he hesitates for a second and then smiles slightly. "Well, you wouldn't ever do it again." "The only other thing that really matters until you're trained is that at the house you may call us Levi, James and Jeremy, and you may speak freely with us, but in public, we are Master Levi, Master James, or Master Jeremy." "For a man that is not one of us, you never speak without being spoken to, and if have guests over, the same applies." We sit in silence for a long moment while the dismal reality of my servitude floods over me. "Do you understand?" I nod my head. Chapter 16 I get out of the shower, exhausted, and look at myself in the mirror. I expect to look different after the past 3 days, but I look just like the girl staring back at me last time I looked in the mirror in my apartment. My stomach is puffed out with lasagna, and my eyes have dark circles under them, but overall nothing has changed. I finish drying off, start to look for a hair dryer, then figure screw it: it doesn't matter what my hair looks like. I lie in bed, nestled under the covers and start going over formulae and experiment data. If I keep my mind busy, I'll stop thinking about where I am. I'm thankful for my exhaustion as I drift off to sleep, the warm embrace of the sheets replacing the last bits of consciousness in my mind. I wake up suddenly, vaguely aware that I haven't been asleep long. I sit up and shield my eyes from the brightness coming from the hallway. "Why are you asleep at 9:00?" A deep voice asks. I squint at the brightness, confused by my drowsiness. The lights come on, and I close my eyes, brightness all around me. The sheets start to pull away from me. I hold them around me tightly and open my eyes. Two men are standing above me. Both are very tall, but one of them is absolutely huge. At least six feet tall and built like a concrete wall. He's shirtless, and all over his torso and arms, muscles bulge through skin. "Who are you?" I shuffle to the other side of the bed nervously, already knowing who they are. The fact that they're brother is undeniable. Both have short, jet black hair, and green eyes. Even the way they're both looking at me is the same: a deep, mindless lust. "James and Jeremy," the bigger one answers. "You're 16?" I ask back in shock. "Yeah?" He nods his head hesitantly. He could easily pass as 25, and his brother could pass as 20. I guess Levi wasn't exaggerating about genetic modification. "Ok, come here," a big hand reaches out towards my exposed foot, and I scurry farther back on the bed. "Dad wasn't lying," the younger one remarks to his brother. "Only dad would buy a stray," he rolls his eyes. "Put the sheets down and come here." I shake my head. The two boys smirk at each other. "Has Levi explained to you how this works?" James asks. His voice is unnaturally deep. It almost seems like it's shaking the room. I nod my head slowly, nervous shivers erupting all over my body. He walks down towards the bottom of the bed, and when he rounds the corner, I jump back on it and sprint forward. I make it about a foot towards the bathroom before a hand clamps around my arm and yanks me back around. "What are you doing?" the young one asks, confused more than angry. I try to break away again though as the older one stomps towards me. There's a scary fire in his eyes, and his jaw is clenched shut. I hear a loud smack, pain sears through my face like someone just sat an iron on it, and I fall on the ground. "Was that really necessary?" I hear above me as I hold my face with both hands. The surprise is almost as great as the pain. "She needs to learn eventually," the deep voice booms as a hand slides under my arm and pulls me up to my feet. I expect to see some kind of remorse in his eyes, but no, there's only anger. "Put the sheets down," he points at my body then the bed. I look down at my wrapped body, and up at the boys. Both of them are looking at me like I'm a steak. James raises his eyebrows, and lifts his hand. I panic inside. I can't move my hands. I can't tear the sheets away and expose myself to them. To two teenagers. It's just-- I close my eyes, duck and cringe as the hand comes alive. I hear skin slapping, but after a second of no pain, I open my eyes tentatively. "Give her a chance!" Jeremy says, his hand holding James' wrist a few inches from my face. I don't know how Jeremy isn't running. James looks like he's about to beat the shit out of him. His eyes are narrowed, his nostrils are flaring and unflaring and his teeth are grinding back and forth. He slowly grabs Jeremy's hand and removes it from his wrist. "We decided," he speaks slowly, his voice even lower, "that I get her first." "If you're going to get in the way," he says like it's a threat, "go to your room until I'm done with her." "Fine," Jeremy holds his hands up in surrender. "I'll stay out of it," he shakes his head. "Now," James turns back to me, "lose the sheets." I immediately pull them off of me and push them onto the bed. He yanks me closer to him and starts exploring my body crudly. I burn inside with embarrassment, but after the confrontation between him and Jeremy, I'm afraid of what will happen if he doesn't stay calm. "Dad picked a good one," he says to his brother happily, like he wasn't just about to hit him. "Awesome tits," he squeezes one lightly, then points. "Feel!" I close my eyes and try to zone out their prying fingers and crude remarks. "Wow!" Jeremy exclaims as my legs are pulled apart. "Look at her pussy!" I make myself keep my eyes clamped shut as I'm pushed onto the bed and my legs are yanked open wide. A finger prods against me, and my eyes open, no longer able to block them out. "Fuck, I bet she's tight," James keeps poking, shoving his finger roughly inside of me. "Owww! Owww!" I exclaim and pull my legs shut as he my skin catches against his dry finger. He laughs a little. "If that hurts, you're in for a long night." I look at him confused for a second, then his and Jeremy's boxers catch my eye. "Noooo!" I jump up and fly off of the bed. "There's no way!" I point at James' crotch. It looks like he's smuggling a brick. "You'll be fine," James shrugs as he slides down his boxers to reveal the full beast. I shake my head in disbelief, the wall cold on my back as I try to hide farther into it. "Go get some lube," he points at Jeremy and then at me, "and you can suck me off until he comes back." I stay still against the wall, frozen with fear. He lies down calmly on the bed, propping two of my pillows behind his head and points at his dick. "You do no how to suck dick don't you?" I nod slowly. "Then get to it!" I climb on the bed hesitantly. It looks even bigger up close. As I take it in my hand, it feels thick and heavy. I look up at him. He's watching me anxiously. I pull back his foreskin, wipe a little bead of precum off the tip, and lick the head lightly. I glance up at him cautiously, torn between the threat of the thick, muscled body under me, and the loathing of what I'm doing. He raises his eyebrows at me and points at his shaft. I close my eyes, try to convince myself I'm anywhere but here, and lick the head back and forth, lick and ice cream cone. "Don't lick it," he grabs the back of my head and pushes my mouth down the shaft, "suck on it." My mouth barely fits around it, but I do my best to slowly bob up and down. A few seconds pass with no moans or twitches and I get anxious. I go deeper on it and speed up, but when I look up at James he's staring back at me flatly. "I thought you said you can suck dick?" "It's too big!" I shake my head up at him. "I've seen girls smaller than you suck dicks bigger than this," he smirks and pushes my face back into his crotch. I rub my mouth up and down the first 3 inches of his shaft and run my tongue around the head. I keep glancing up at James, afraid he's going to get mad at my bad job, but all he does is keep staring down at me like he's bored. When I hear footsteps behind me, I'm relieved until I see a bottle of lube flop down on the bed. "Thanks," James tells his brother, getting up and standing by the edge of the bed. Chapter 17 Renewed panic strikes me as I look up at the boy looming above me. My mind tells me not to run, but my body is too scared of the hungry eyes and rippling muscles standing over me to listen. I fling myself onto the floor, barely land, and sprint for the door. I tear out into the hallway, and look for somewhere to run. Just as I start darting down the staircase, heavy footsteps begin pounding the hardwood floors in pursuit. I run quickly out of the foyer and into the living room. Levi looks up from the couch, a look of confusion on his face. "I thought the boys--" I freeze for a second, then the sound of footsteps on the staircase reaches my ears. I run through the kitchen, then into the hallway that leads to the garage. "Shit," I say to myself as the door to the garage refuses to open. "She went towards the kitchen!" Levi yells calmly. I look down the hallway at the three doors, pick the middle one, and run into the darkness. I move slowly though the room, groping in the darkness for any surface that might hit me. I feel something cold and metal in front of me. I reach beside it, and run my hand over a second cold metal surface. I'm in the laundry room. I curl up beside the dryer in the dark and hug my knees, listening anxiously as I hear a door close. "Not in here!" The door next to the room I'm in closes, and I slow my breathing, trying to be silent. The door flings open, the lights flick on. I look down, realize my feet are sticking out just barely past the dryer, and adrenaline shoots through me. I jump onto my feet, and look around the room, but the only place for me to go is further back into the corner. "Found her!" James yells over his shoulder, and then smiles menacingly at me as he starts walking towards me. "I'm not supposed to be here!" I shout desperately. "This isn't my life!" I push against the wall, trying to back further into it. His shadow cover's my corner in darkness as he steps in front of me, still smiling. "Please! Please!" I beg, shoving my hands against his bare chest. "Oww!" I scream as he grabs a clump of hair and yanks my head sideways. "You really don't understand how this works, do you?" he growls through grinding teeth. "This isn't my world," I look down at the floor and sigh. "Don't hurt her," Jeremy says from the doorway. "She's just scared!" "She shouldn't be!" James looks over his shoulder at him. "She's not a child! She's older than both of us!" "She was a stray! She's not used to this." "There's only one way to get her used to it." I flinch and shrink down into the corner, but the hand doesn't hit me. It scoops behind my legs, and then James throws me over his shoulder. One of his hands holds my legs against his chest, and the other holds my butt in place over his shoulder. It's uncomfortable with his shoulder jutting into my stomach and pelvis, but his grip is too strong to protest. He marches through the door, Jeremy opens the door in front of us and we step into a staircase across the hall. "There was a staircase?!" I shout aloud in disbelief at my luck. "You chose the wrong door," James spanks me lightly. "Lights, on." James says as we walk into a room. It looks a lot like mine in structure, except for it's bigger, there's a TV, what I think is a computer, and clothes all over the floor. "Are you going to run anymore?" James spanks me lightly again. "No," I shake my head in defeat. There's no point. I might as well accept my fate, at least short term. I can kick and scream all I want, but I'm trapped in this house. "Good!" James slaps my butt roughly. "Ahhh!" I scream, my cheeks searing. "Are you going to do what you're told?" his hand rubs my butt threatening. "Yes!" I nod my head frantically against his back. "Good," he flips me over his shoulder and flops me down onto the bed. He pulls a bottle of lube out of his bedside table and starts rubbing it on his shaft. "Get on your back," he points towards the edge of the bed, "and spread your legs." I shuffle to the edge of the bed, drape my legs over the side and then spread them shamefully, trying to hold back tears. "Why are you crying?" James looks down at me confused as he roughly rubes lube into me. I try to explain it even to myself, and my crying just intensifies. "Whatever," James rolls his eyes and steps up between my legs. I sniffle and then start bawling as first there's a soft pressure against my mound and then a rough jamming. "Owww!" I say through tears and roll over onto my side. James flips me back onto my back and rubs my face softly. "You said you'd do what you're told," he tenses his palm against my skin. "Now are you going to?" I gulp down tears and nod my head. "Good!" he says as he puts his head back against me. "Ow! Oww!" I whine as he pushes slowly into me, stretching my skin tautly around his. The trudge forwards halts for a moment, and I open my eyes. James opens the lube bottle with a little snap and slathers half the bottle on our merged genitals. "This is by far the tightest pussy I've ever felt," James says over his shoulder to his brother as he grabs my ankles and pulls my legs high into the air. "What about the girl Mark Summers used to have?" He challenges. "Owwww!" I squeal as James lurches forward abruptly. "Ten times tighter!" he looks down at my pussy around his cock. "It's like I'm fucking a clenched fist!" "Damn!" Jeremy exclaims, stepping closer to look at his brother's dick buried inside of me. "Hurry up so I can feel!" My sobbing renews. It's also so sick. This isn't the world I know. This isn't how people behave. Brothers don't watch each other rape random women. They sure as hell don't take turns! What the fuck is this world?! "You're the one that doesn't want to hurt her," he smirks. "I just meant don't beat her!" "If you say so," James smirks wider. "Ahhhhhhhh!" I scream. Bright stars dance across my vision and my entire pussy burns white hot with pain. The inside feels like someone grabbed each side and pulled with all their might, and my cervix feels like a punch in the nose. "No! No!" I scream and jump up as James rears his hips back for a second thrust. "You're going to break me in half!" He grabs my leg and pulls me back to him. "You can either slowly hurt for weeks and weeks, or you can be sore for 1 or 2 days," he starts pushing back into me. "Seriously!" I look up at him, the tears now gone. "It doesn't fit!" "Ahhh!" I scream shrilly as he slams into me just as hard. "I told you it won't fit!" I jump up, leap off the bed and huddle in the corner. "I told you to do what you're told!" James screams across the bed. "Now get back on the fucking bed and spread your fucking legs!" "James," Jeremy steps forward and rests his hand on James' shoulder, "we shouldn't seriously injure her. If she needs medical attention we'll have to go another week without a girl." "She just needs to be broken in," James shakes his head. "We can either hurt her for a few months, or we can get it over with in a few days." "Well uh..." Jeremy hesitates. "Matt's girl was fine wasn't she?"