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CHAPTER 6
I knew well the perks of privilege and rank. As the daughter of the ranking senior Senator of Grecolo we had naturally received invitations to every important function around the globe. We were frequent guests at many fine estates, where each estate served as the status symbol of our host's wealth.
To my surprise the grounds which we were driving through - would have been a proud addition to any of the vain billionaires that we had hob-nobbed with.
In the horizon one had a stunning view of the sun's rising reflection off the crystal blue water of the sea. In all directions a beautiful landscape majestically spread forth, and in the far distance one was able to glimpse some structural settings.
The van soon passed a patch of dirt being worked on by a pair of men and three women. The men were adorned in tight feminine lavender shorts which showed the clear bulge of their manhood and wore nothing else. The hot sun radiated sweat down their muscular bare backs, and I noticed faded whip marks criss-crossing across the ripples of their bare backs.
One of the women, dressed in a purple pants suit, was obviously in charge of this group. She was brandishing a whip high in the air, ready to strike the other woman. This attractive girl in her early twenties independently prepared herself for the lashes she was about to receive. The girl lowered her shorts to her knees, and bending over – she grabbed hold of her ankles. This left her behind fully exposed for the punishment she was about to receive. As the van pulled out of view, I could make out the first stroke landing solidly on her backside. To my astonishment, she did not so much as quiver as the lash ripped into her flesh. I was puzzled by her response, for surly the pain must have been atrocious.
As we continued to roll slowly along we passed numerous groups of slaves. Surprisingly, they seemed quite tranquil and content. For the life of me I could not understand how so many slaves had come to lose their self-respect. I knew there was no way on earth that I would ever sell out - and permit myself to be content as a slave!
Seemingly, the slaves had no set dress code or uniforms. Most of the wardrobe consisted of feminine colored shorts and sneakers. Wearing a top seemed optional. Interestingly, the women seemed as blase at being bare chested as the men!
Judging strictly by their demeanor, I'd have never guessed that these men and women were mere slaves. There was nothing overtly suggestive about their behavior that indicated they felt beaten or worthless. In fact, what struck me most about them was that they all seemed to be well cared for, and... Even loved...? But I knew they were owned slaves, for each had a slave collar fastened around their neck.
I found myself in a daze of shocked fascination. I was seeking any clue as to what my future held in store. It was quickly apparent that all males as well as most of the women had their necks locked into a heavy steel red slave collar.
As the van slowed down, we passed a stunning girl wearing a white slave collar. This girl, who could not have been more then fifteen years old, was talking to an older lady wearing a black collar. It was very eerie for me to see a lady at least my mother’s age, standing in an obvious position of respect in front of a girl so young.
It seemed evident that the slaves had different classifications. Apparently red collars were the lowest ranked slaves. White collar seemed to indicate a lofty rank, and black collar slaves were somewhere in the middle. I wondered what rank our own escort held, with her pink and silver collar.
Despite the foreboding circumstances, I found this to be the most fascinating ride I had ever experienced in my life. My unbridled curiosity kept my eyes glued out the window.
One woman in particular stood out. She was noteworthy for both her incredible sultry beauty, as well as the way she was dressed. All she had on was a second skin peach body suit with a zipper front. What made one take special notice, was that the zipper was open all the way down to her crotch! This left her beautifully formed breasts exposed as well as most of her pubic hair. As if the humiliation of being naked was not enough, her breasts were covered with deep purple welts, from what appeared to be a very recent whipping. I knew that should I ever be in this woman's predicament, I would certainly die of shame.
Strangely enough, my first impressions actually calmed my anxieties a little. My childhood had been saturated with books and movies that portrayed Genesis as a desolate country where total brutality and chaos ruled. A land where slaves lived in constant dread for their very lives and were put to death with little or no provocation. A land where everywhere you looked, the rotting bodies of slaves could be seen swinging from poles and gallows. A land of total and complete misery for all slaves!
So admittedly, I was somewhat relieved. True, from the little I had just seen, the slaves did get whipped. But there was a feeling of serenity here which transcended the pain. Even the girl who had been whipped hard on her breasts and must have felt tremendous pain, seemed to have a relaxed demeanor about her.
Clearly; what I had seen on this estate, was not what I had expected. The war propaganda that I had been exposed to was obviously a lie. There weren't any slaves in iron chains being whipped mercilessly by the overseer, till the point of collapse. (that image had been in my head ever since I was 8 and had seen the movie 'revenge of the oppressed')
Indeed, I thought back to the young girl who had pulled down her own shorts and bent right over. She voluntarily caused her plump behind to thrust up high in the air, their-by offering her chastiser the full swell of her rear cheeks. She must have known that by bending over in this position it would afford her chastiser a larger target to whip. The anger and hatred I expected to see from that young girl was missing. Instead, she had the look of one who is content and at peace with herself.
So I was left to ponder: Where was the ruthlessness and savagery of Genesis that was a gospel of my upbringing? And what twisted magic did this place hold, that persuaded a slave to happily help with their own whipping??!!
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