I was sitting next to the store’s cash register when I saw her come in. She was much older now, so was I, but it was her. Back then in Chicago she was called ‘the Blond’. Her hair was now a sleek black. She was dressed as an upper class Blue would. She had a pretty slave boy with her, he was blond.
When I knew her before Max Heber got his left hand cut off because he touched her, and she was the Cook County Sheriff’s property. Max was caught with his hand in her pants. I had been watching — it’s a wonder Sheriff Memphis didn’t have my eyes put out, for being there and seeing them playing.
It was ten-fifteen years ago when she came in the room where Max and I were. She asked me to do her first, and then she asked Max. Max had nothing to lose (he thought). He was a slave who cleaned up the jail, and everyone kicked and spit on him. I was a ‘fighting slave’, Memphis matched me against other tough slaves. It was back then who could gouge out whose eyes first, or kick off the others balls. I was quick, and didn’t hesitate.
The Blond was kept by Memphis like a pet. She might have been fifteen when we were in jail. I was never sure of her age, or mine. My mother was always so drunk she didn’t remember me being born. I always said, “I’m here mother, I had to be born.”
“It’s a bad memory, that is just gone now.” she would say. I told everyone I was eighteen when I had my first serious fights. I never would have fought anyone, except for self-protection, if I had not been ‘monster big’ and locked in a jail where Memphis made money on fighting animals. I was trained to be one of the animals.
When I did most of my practice only Memphis watched, with the Blond. He didn’t want the competition to see one of his up and comers.
She should have recognized me in the Miami slave store, but she didn’t seem to. I have my hair shaved off now, and I’m dressed lots better. Mostly when she saw me fight I was without clothes. She would probably know me better by the shape and size of my penis. Most women say it’s the best they’ve ever seen.
So she walked right by me as if I was a fly with her fancy boy, in his green silk suit. She was pretending to be a rich Blue Caste woman off on a shopping trip at the slave market.
I figured the Blond was an escaped slave. I had been a slave for five years, but got emancipated. I had won a fight that no one thought I could win, the odds were 20 to 1 against me winning.
Memphis had given me a good reason to win, other than continued breath. I saw the papers before I got in the ring, also, I had a clear liquid to spit in my opponents eyes to blind him. It burned my mouth and tongue, but gave me time to take off his balls.
It was found, after I pounded his head into mush, that he had needles in his toes to puncture me with. So I spit faster and Memphis owned then more money than ever he had possessed before. Of course he had bet very little on me. He thought my head would end up mush.
I always bet all the money I could scrape together on me. What good would any money do me if I lost? The way you won a Cook County Jail fight was to stop the breathing of the opponent.
So I left Memphis, and his chains, with 5000 credits and my freedom. Memphis had his Blond with him when I got my papers. He offered me 300 credits if I would fight again. When I said was, “I was lucky to have won this one.”
He looked angry at my turn down, he was sometimes nasty when he smiled (like he did then) and was angry at the same time. As I shook my head ‘no’ he said, “I’ll throw in this slut if you like. She has mostly been ruined by my toilet cleaner putting his fingers inside her.”
I figured if I fought again Memphis would give the other fighter something to throw in my eyes. After five years as his slave I know all about him — he gave snakes a better name. I got my winnings and left. I figured she ran away.
She same in the slave store like she had been there before. It was called BILLY’S MONKEY FARM. And Billy thought that was a great name for a slave store. She turned with her boy toward the female sales area, so I went behind her. After someone is really a slave they have mannerisms, and little things about what they do, and it just gives them away. When I first was emancipated my job was helping to find escaped slaves. I was good at that and I expected that Memphis would give a reward for even his old honey’s return. Not that was a worry to my mind when I saw her again.
Blondie was looking at the hands of a slave woman, turning them over and slowly feeling the hands. The young woman, who was being vended, had lots of red hair and freckles. I walked slowly up behind Blondie and said, “Nice slave hands Blondie, are you still collecting hands? I think Max got his left cut off.” She looked at me with eyes that with a glance said, ‘What are you a madman?’, but what she said was, “I really don’t have a clue what you mean sir. Please don’t make me report you to Billy. I’m a good customer here.”
“Have you heard from Memphis lately?” I asked her.
“Mistress,” the slave boy said sticking out his arm toward me, “If this man is annoying you I’ll take care of him.” The male slave was probably 175 pounds and before she said anything he touched my chest. I guess she had told him he was her bodyguard so when he touched me I took his hand and elbow and broke his arm. There was the usual pistol pop of a broken arm, but this boy screamed like a rich girl just enslaved. It was a girl scream, not a bodyguard groan. He was on his knees screaming like a run over puppy, he continually cried. Blondie said, “Why did you do that?”
“He touched me.” I told her.
“He couldn’t hurt you.” She said.
“Do you want to make a complaint to Billy? I asked, as some of his attendants were coming toward us to check out what had happened because of the noise the defeated slave was making. They knew me because I was Billy’s friend and I sold him truckloads of slaves. I doubted he knew her.
“No, I want to be left alone. Please excuse that my boy touched you.” Just then Fred a floor slave of Billy got to us. “So what is this about Samson?” Fred asked.
“The lady just apologized that her boy touched me didn’t you?”
“Yes”, Blondie said and averted her eyes the way slaves do with their owners. Fred saw it and I saw it.
“You patch up the boy Fred and I will escort this lady to the Red Room where we have things to talk about.”
“Sure,” Fred said, “He’s not much of a bodyguard. I think she bought him here.” I took Blondie by the arm and we walked to the room which was a viewing room where slaves could get naked for prospective buyers.
In there the wind was not fluttering in her sails. She kept her head bowed. I thought she might have a weapon on her so I frisked her and found a Keso Razer knife, attached to one leg and a very small gun tapped to her back. realistically her value was small as a slave, but I found over a thousand credit bills in her bra and money belt. She made no protest as I stripped her.
“How long has it been since you escaped?” I asked her when she was standing there naked.
“Almost ten years.” She was not bad-looking, but was probably dangerous.
“Don’t take me back to Memphis, please Samson. Please keep me yourself. I have property and bank accounts here. I have been married two times, and I got the estates when the old men died.”
“I heard Memphis was dead.” I slapped her ass cheeks, wondering how she killed the ‘old men’. “Consider yourself my property now.”
“Yes master,” she said. I cuffed her hands behind her back and put her on a dog leash to walk her to the cash register.
“You probably have a car waiting for you,” I said while I waited for Fred.
“Yes master,” she said, “and a driver. His name is Lester.”
“What kind of car do I own now?” I asked.
“”Zizer master. It’s new. I haven’t stolen anything after my first year of freedom.”
Just then Fred came back with the boy who looked surprised at his mistress on a leash. “I knew her from when she was previously leashed,” I told Fred. So you got my other slave bandaged up, so how much do I owe Billy for the vet bill?”
“Billy wouldn’t charge you Samson.”
“Here’s for the collar, chain and cuffs.” I left a credit bill on the counter by the cash register and took my slaves to the car.
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