Past Oppression Ch 01

Mina sat curled up in the old armchair in the corner of her room reading; kept cosy by her warm winter leggings in a shade of hot pink a shop assistant said really went with her olive skin tone. Her oversize grey sweatshirt hid a body-hugging white t-shirt beneath that said something fairly obscene in Chattelandaise but in Pussiana could pass for "classy.  She wasn't sure what else she could have been doing at this point, fined to the house as she was.  Mina didn't exactly have what anyone could call "a wealth of choices".

It had been a couple of hours since her father had left the house with Zafira for a party at the Jeffersons.  Mina didn't really want to think about it.  She knew the kind of parties her father, heck seemingly most of the men of Pussiana, attended with work friends at the weekend, and it reminded her too much of what she saw in her own future.  She didn't need any more of a preview than what ran around in the darker parts of her own mind.

It had been a week since her Primary Inspection.  Of course her father had the money to pay for a private inspection conducted by some friendly nurse and an accompanying fem-vet who'd have spoken nicely and been very careful with her, but instead she'd been told she had to travel to the Bureau of Female Affairs building on Marteau square all on her own and queue for hours to get the "free" one provided by the state.

She wasn't stupid, she knew full well that plenty of girls didn't come back from their PI at the BFA without a neckband but she also knew her father.  He had a full two weeks from her PI to see what price he could get for her, and unless someone came in with an offer too good to refuse he would wait that full two weeks to maximise her value.

The worst thing is

, she thought,

I know some of the girls who went for private inspections.  Some of those places have really high quality photography areas, sets, and even slaves who do makeup.  They come back with glossy copies of their photos for potential owners.  What do I get?  A webcam with some smeared lipstick and a light spanking administered by the most bored looking BFA agent known to the Androcracy.  I could have been worth so much more.

Her father had read her the file from the registry with pleasure.  She was A rated, notable features were her smooth skin, long silky black hair suitable for all types of facefuck handle, tight primary fuckhole with good quality secondary and tertiaries available.  She was recommended as a high grade private fuck toy, with only a moderate breeding recommendation due to her high level of education despite her being in the ideal zones for height and natural breast size.

The one thing, however, that had saddened her father is that the agent hadn't added a private review to increase her value. He planned on getting some neighbours and friends around to facefuck her for a few minutes each and post reviews before taking final offers from bidders to really try and add to her current appeal. His eyes lit up when he talked about Mina trying to get really teary eyed for the photos, maybe requesting some slaps from the men he was going to bring in to facerape her.  Almost ironically Mina was already holding back the tears as she listened to all this; she'd toyed nervously with the high security wrist tracker her father had fitted her with until her sale was finalised.

He wouldn't want me wandering too far, I guess, no father wants to have notes about his daughters being runners on file when it comes time to sell them, she thought.

She repositioned herself in the chair, tucking herself a little bit closer in an almost defensive way, and her mind began to wander;

It's been four years since Leila went through this

, she thought,

Gods has it really been that long?  She knew she didn't have a lot of time, and that I would be next.  She filled me in on anything and everything as it happened, right down to the minute.

Mina had known everything, from what the PI entailed, to the pictures that went up on the registry; she even knew the way her friends had begun to simply cut her out of their lives and move on as her birthday passed and the ticking clock began.

I can't believe that one morning I woke up, and Leila was just gone,

thought Mina,

every trace of her like she never even existed.  The only way her room could have felt more empty that morning is if dad had stayed up all night redecorating it.  All her belongings, her clothes, there wasn't even a photo of her left in the house.

Mina's eyes felt the beginnings of tears for a second;

Do I even really remember what she looked like...have I walked past her in the street and never even made eye contact?  Where even is she now, could I convince dad to show me her registry page the next time he checks the bids for me? Do I really even want to know?

Mina had once asked their father about what had happened to Leila; she was thoroughly underwhelmed when the answer he gave was simply "Leila is gone."  It hadn't helped that at the time he'd been looking at brochures for new cars.  That was the day where Mina had really realised her value to the family.  She wasn't really a person.  She was a new car, a pool in the back garden, a year's worth of groceries, or, worse still, she was worth enough money to buy a lightly used slave, and get change for accessories.

What else was there to say,

she thought,

at least he's never really mistreated me, I hope he gets himself something nice with the money.  Maybe spend some of it on a gym membership, look after himself a little.

She did worry.  The last few years of school had shown her how fragile life could be as one classmate's father after another seemed to pass unexpectedly early.  There was no real link between them, and TV reminded everyone often enough that the Compulsory Female Slavery Law had, if anything, increased male lifespans over the last few decades, regardless of how things looked.

What happened was bad enough,

Mina thought,

but more than once the first moment we knew about the whole thing was when BFA agents turned up, sometimes even with a Slavecop in tow to inform girls they no longer had a "Closest Male Relative" and would be taken into "State Ownership" until they could be sold off.

She knew it probably didn't change the fate of many of those around her, but at least one had been dragged away screaming about her freedom fees being paid by a trust.  Mina wasn't quite sure she'd ever get the image of that girl, tears streaming, eyes bulging out of her head as the handcuffs and ballgag were locked in place.

If Mina was really honest with herself at this point she was only barely concentrating on the book; the worn volume in her hands was almost entirely committed to memory already anyway.  The thing was probably more of a handbook or lifestyle guide than anything else; Agata Matryschek's key text on the proper behaviour of young women.  For a handbook though it was written in this strange rhythmic, almost hypnotic style, making the concept of her ceasing to be a person and becoming simply meat with holes feel normal, maybe even a natural consequence of female existence.

The whole book was darkly reassuring in just how completely and utterly she should surrender and serve her new Master. Mina's hands had trembled when she picked up her copy this time; what once had been a far off notion was now frighteningly real, and her short term survival might be dependent on how well drilled into her every tenet of it was.  Once upon a time it had been Leila's copy, and, at least for the moment, it was Mina's. Mina wondered if her father would choose to use Zafira, or some other slavecunt to sire another girl in the future to reap yet more profits from that girl's sale.  Mina had no doubt that the book would end up in her trembling hands at some point.

I wonder,

Mina thought,

will they tell her about me?  Will that girl know about Leila?  Will she take comfort in this happening to big sisters she never even got to know? Will she still let the book take her on the journey it needs to so she doesn't go mad?  Maybe dad will just press it into her hands and tell her to learn, and she'll figure it out for herself in time?

She gathered up her school bag and picked out a pen.  She opened the book near the beginning, to the double page spread that listed technical details: the year of publication, new editions, and the publisher on the left hand page but with a blank page across from it on the right.  It took her a few moments to think about what to write, and in the end went for a distillation of what she knew she wanted to hear right now.

"

I don't know who you are, we may never meet.  I know how things must feel.  Dry your tears, read carefully.  I love you, and I hope that whatever happens it's not as bad as you think it might be,"

she wrote in what turned out to be a green glitter gel pen.

Mina wondered how Zafira was doing.  The two of them hadn't known each other for very long, if you could even call it knowing each other at all.  Mina's father didn't like to keep a whole harem at once, just a single all purpose slave who gradually looked more and more worn down as the mix of cooking, cleaning, preening, and rape took its toll; he said it kept costs down, and that a single cunt should be more than capable of serving the whole house to his satisfaction.  As far as Mina knew she was a sexretary from her father's office that was no longer needed by either the company or her family, and thus had been up for auction amongst all the male employees at the end of summer party.

One day Minahad left for high school as Melina watched from the front window, bare breasts pressed against the window, her tired and tear stained eyes tracking Mina as she headed for her bus, Mina's father rhythmically pounding her from behind as he flogged her back.  That night Mina had returned home and the bobbing head between her father's legs wasn't the chestnut brown haired girl she expected, but was instead the perma-dyed blonde of Zafira.  She was a beautiful sweet Yaski girl with the kind of skin her father loved, white as porcelain, and prone to showing flogger marks for hours after her beatings were done.  To this day Mina wasn't sure if she'd even seen Zafira without some kind of marks on her skin.

One question, of course, had lingered on Mina's lips more than once but she had yet to be stupid enough to ask, and that was what had happened to Melina.  Had she been re-homed with a new Master, she was certainly young enough that surely someone would still want to buy her?  Had she been traded in?  Or had she been led to the block in town and auctioned off like so many before her?  She hoped Melina hadn't been dumped or donated to a public brothel.  She knew very little about what happened in either instance, but she also knew the only women deserving of those fates were criminals and runaways.  Everyone else at least deserved the protection of a Master.

Mina scanned back to her place in the book and began to reread this section of the chapter on Forced and Voluntary Public Performance.  The whole book started from the premise that with so few men left in society it was the purpose of every woman to make sure their mental health and the survival of the species took precedence over any mere woman.  Mina chuckled to herself a little at this, thinking

there always seems to be more than enough cock to go around

to herself

for all that we outnumber men by multiples to one they're the ones that always seem to be craving ever more pussy, more slavecunt, more of us, more of girls like...well...like me

.  For a second her mind lingered on the memory of a few days ago at school, and she had to clear it immediately.

Mina, you are meat with holes,

she thought to herself,

you can't be traumatised any more, not by the past or the future, you exist to serve.

The mantra of these words felt almost soothing as she repeated it to herself over and over again, willing it to be her reality.

The second that black slaveband closes around my neck my past is gonna wash away like it's written on a beach and the tide's rolling in,

she thought,

It's going to be simple.  Live to serve, and serve to live

.  She carried on reading the same extended message in support of pure and thoughtless service, sexual and otherwise as if there was as much certainty in those facts as the Sun rising in the morning.  Without these few men that women were to worship, Dr Matryschek argued, there would be no more humanity.  The system of female slavery made sure that not only was the order of womanhood kept, by being tied tightly to men, but that the women of a harem could cherish, pleasure, and submit to their owner as was their duty.

Public performance, the author stated, was an affirmation of manhood, as well as an excellent boost in morale.  A man being serviced in public showed that not only did he have the time and ability to relax for such a thing, but also that he possessed a woman worth exhibiting for other men to see.  The book also added that this kind of public service allowed for more casual female trades and sales between harems, increasing overall harem satisfaction in the long term.  The chapter rounded out by extolling at some length, and in great detail, that all slave age women should be prepared at any time to be utilised in all holes simultaneously whilst not giving in to the temptation of pleasure.  This was all in order that they might not only serve their Masters properly, but also their relatives, friends, or any passers-by they might wish to stop and talk to.

I know all this,

thought Mina,

I've read all this theory a thousand times but without any practical experience how will I know what I'm going to do until it happens.

She buried her head face first into the pages for a second and sighed.

What if this is all pointless?  It's not like I have a choice, I'll be sold to whoever will pay,

she thought,

and then what?  They'll fuck me whenever and wherever they please regardless of if I'm a walking textbook or not.  I could know all the formal blowjob styles, every pose, obey every order, and if they want to walk in from work, flip me over and fuck me in the ass until I pass out there's not a thing I can do other than be thankful every single second I'm not in some pre-slavery nation, or with a Master who doesn't want me at all.

Bitterly her mind reached for some of the events of the last few days once more and she buried them even harder this time.  She still hurt, and in a more than physical way.  Seeking a moment of solace she shut her eyes, took a breath, and performed a small act of silent prayer.

Whatever god or gods are listening out there I pray please let a good and caring Master find me.  I'm not asking for one who loves me, I'm not even asking for one that doesn't flog or slap.  Just...please...one who's happy with me fucking, sucking, and obeying with everything I can.  I know there's not a damned thing I can give you in return except to promise to be that obedient and loving slavecunt all the guys in the Cuntmatch ads seem to be looking for, but please, just give me this one small thing.

She had to admit it wasn't the best or most formal prayer, it wasn't even to any god in particular, but at least she'd thrown something out there into the grand cosmos in hope of some small form of respite.

Reading on in silence she turned page after page, absorbing the diagrams, wondering how she'd be able to hold some of those same positions for hours at a time.  One or two of the diagrams were clearly drawn by someone whose appreciation of human anatomy was, at best, at a very elementary level, and one or two of the female positions seemed to rely on having a second set of hips somewhere.

The evening wore on, and eventually Mina realised she'd been reading for so long in the lamplight, curled in the chair that the rest of the house was now dark, cool, and still.  At least with her father being out she wouldn't have to listen to him flogging or fucking Zafira downstairs.  There was no attempt to hide it when she was here, it was just part of life.  If Mina was eating breakfast and her father wanted Zafira spread-eagled on the table for pussy slapping, then Mina's options were limited to getting out of the way or getting a very up close view of Zafira's tears as she thanked her father with every slap.  At one point Mina thought she'd stop noticing, but the screams never really seemed to get any quieter.

With a pop her lamp went out, leaving the room in darkness.  Mina groaned, she knew where the spare bulbs were but it still meant going downstairs, through the kitchen, into the garage, and finding the thing she wanted amongst a box of almost identical and unhelpfully labelled spares.  Carefully she placed the Cuntmatch branded bookmark (it was very tasteful, at one end was a set of lips, clearly pressed against something just off the edge, and as the eye followed down there was a chin with spittle running down it, and a throat with a very obvious bulge in it at the opposite short edge.  The text on the back read "Cuntmatch - Find your perfect fit!") she'd received with the book just at the page she had been reading and went to turn on the room light.

A click from the lightswitch. Then nothing.

This was cue for an even larger groan as Mina's head sank back in frustration.  She twitched open her curtains to see the heavily barred window.  Her father assured her that such things were for her safety, and Leila's room had been much the same when she was here; Mina was far more convinced that it was to prevent a midnight runaway incident.

She looked out through the bars at the neighbourhood where every perfectly identical suburban home glowed brightly from their windows and porch lights in the cool darkness of the evening; pools of stark orange from the sodium street lights highlighted the snakelike road between the properties as it slithered out of view to both sides of her own home.  Now it wasn't just the replacement bulb; she'd have to reset things at the fusebox too.  She left her room and ventured out onto the polished wood floor of the landing, bare feet leaving small condensation marks on its frigid surface.

The house was chilly.  Her father wasn't going to waste money heating it when he or his friends weren't around to need it.  After all, as he often said, girls should learn to deal with hardship without complaint.  The house was dark and silent, it was eerie to experience when everything was so still.  Normally these would be in the hours when she was only allowed out of her room for the bathroom, so to see the house only lit by what light made it over the front lawn and in through the half-shuttered windows was downright creepy.  Mina's heart beat a little faster;

All right, Mina, relax,

she thought,

it's not like you're doing anything wrong or being disobedient.  After all, how can I learn to be a better slaveslut if I can't even read the only real source I have for information?  Maybe if I find a Master who thinks a squint is super sexy, yeah, there must be dozens of those.

The stairs creaked as she made her way down them and towards the front door.  Blue light shone through its large oval crazy-patterned glass insert and cast long fractured shadows across the floor and walls that separated a myriad of blue, purple, and green hues.  At the base of the stairs she doubled back on herself and into the kitchen, half expecting to hear the gentle clink of Zafira's chains from the smaller punishment cage she had in here, but the thing lay empty.

I wonder if I'll end up like her,

Mina thought as she walked closer to it,

every time I come down in the morning to go to school she's there naked, and shivering.  I know I can't do anything for her, even if I gave her a blanket, or clothing she'd have to reject it like she does human food and drinks.