Chapter 1

It was another beautiful day. To you less fortunate, that means a blue sky, some billowy clouds and a cooling breeze coming off the ocean. We had more of this kind of day than not.

Antibes was founded in the 5th-century BC. Due to its naturally protected port, the town of Antibes has long been an important trading centre. The village where I live was given the name Juan-les-Pins on 12 March 1882. That whole area was and still is visited by artists, writers, Kings, Queens and famous actors and actresses; plus thousands of tourists. If you wanted to see what I'm talking about(Except the neat weather) New Orleans might give you an idea or what it looks like.

I live in a decent place near the beaches, we have like 40 or 50 of them nearby. I rent, not being a citizen, but my landlord seems to enjoy that steady income every month rather than 50 different rentals a year. Over time we have reached an arrangement more like family or at least good friends. It happened when she needed some extra money, 7,000 Euros to be exact. (A Euro officially is about $1.38 but if you bargain it can be higher)

There was nothing onerous going on. Her niece was getting married. Marcia and her sister Giselle were paying for the wedding celebration. None were filthy rich and the decision to give the kids a traditional wedding left little for a gift. She was charging me about 2,330 Euros a month, not cheap but not as high as some went for. The reason, nearby, next to us really, were some places that might be considered a slum area. I did not mind, I was hardly ever there longer than a week at a time and two girls cleaned and looked after the place often.

I loved this place, this town and the weather. They left me alone. One must remember when you are a guest in another country, the more you fit in the better they treat you, ask any tourist about service in a French Cafe and if a local or tourist is better served? We had a train station in town, boats crossed the Med a stones throw away and a large airport was a dozen km away. Very convenient

Anyway. I asked Marcia if she would do me a favour, two actually. I would be away longer than usual. Would she help Bridget and Amyl, the cleaning girls, look after the place while I was gone, they had school work and I did not want them to have anymore trouble on account of me. I had felt very sorry for the little girls. She and her younger sister Amyl lived in that run-down area next door and rarely a day passed that her mother could not be heard screaming at them. I handed her three envelopes. I told her the one marked B, was for Bridget and Amyl to use for their pay and any household goods we needed, while I was gone. The second, marked Marcia was several months rent in-advance since I did not know exactly when I would return. The third was marked Wedding. It was to be from Marcia, Giselle and myself for the newlyweds. If they would accept the money as a gift from the three of us. They could say it came from a distant cousin even. I told her that I loved my place there and did not want to ever lose it, so a small token of that I had offered plus the 7,000 Euros she had mentioned.

That was several years ago now. I was treated by them as the cousin now. Even at the town, I was treated as a local, they even started calling me a more French name that the one I used. That girl and her sister were still around. Their pay became a joke now. Marcia was saying those girls made more now than some of the fisherman; that it would cost me less just to buy them as 'slaves'. Bridget was now 13 with a birthday coming up. I knew life had been rough on her and her sister and everything they earned Marcia kept for them in an old cigar box. I was paid a lot of money for what I did, but the life style here was exactly what I wanted and needed. I was being treated as if I was born here.

I spoke to Marcia as to what might be a gift that could change Bridget's life around, Amyl's too. Her comment about making them slaves came up again, this time her look seemed serious.

I was ironic, Fate maybe. This entire seacoast was where hundreds of blue-eyed blondes were kidnapped each year. Not every family could afford Swiss finishing schools and private bodyguards. My masters, yes. I obeyed their commands in exchange for some un-godly sums to rescue or protect these sun worshiping goddesses on The Cote d'azur.

That some suggestion that I should make these two my slaves seemed incongruous to me.

Marcia did suggest something, but she said, the time may not be right, yet.

Bridget and Amyl's mother had been getting worse the last 6 months or so. Their father or the current version had finally left and she blamed the developing Bridget for the break-up, calling her a whore, slut and a host of other endearing names. I was going away again and asked Marcia to see if Bridget and Amyl could stay in my house full-time. I gave my landlord enough money to suggest they buy some new clothes, a laptop and accessories from the local Orbi and anything else that would be nice. They would not be able to take them home and that Cigar box needed to get a lot bigger now. I decided that they both would get a lot more education and training for their future. Marcia became my co-conspirator in this.

I had a flight to Zurich this time. Several girls had gone missing near the beaches of Nice while on holiday. The families had taken the suggestion of the Swiss school and hired our firm right from the start. Knowing from previous such actions that these girls would be held for ransom. It was more likely that they would never be returned even if the ransom had been paid. Amsterdam seemed to be the centre and waypoint for the slave pens in Turkey and the Harems in the Middle East. Time was of the essence. What was different with this was that the families were wealthy, very wealthy and their request was to ensure that such things would never happen again, no matter what the cost.

It was explained to them that more than 11,000 girls, mostly, were taken each yearn from places as far away as Florida, California and Australia. At best, we could make some beaches in France 'safe' maybe stop some repeat crimes but those girl were sold for more than a Billion Euros each year.

Several trunks were brought out. Our firm was told 1 Billion Euros had been donated by all the families at the school. This plus whatever we found lying around should enable a good start. If we needed more it would be provided. War had just been declared by some parents you did not want to piss-off. More than 40 families had contributed 25 Million Euros each. Two had gone a bit further and 100 French Foreign Legionnaires were loaned to our campaign, 'Good Times', our cover firm were supplying 200 more ops type for the effort. All were well trained and seemed dedicated to the effort. None were just bodies to collect a paycheck. 50 were Kenyan troops, brought in at the request of a well known ruler there in Kinshasa or Mozambique who's daughter attended the school, while 50 others were South African Mercs, borrowed from a private group and used to overcoming an enemy on their home turf.

All told our 300 suddenly grew, German, Russian, Swedish and some SIS on 'holiday' decided to join for what they said should be 'A jolly good time'. We had over 550 of the finest killing machines ever seen. We had 100 more doctors, nurses, medics, extraction pilots in various helicopters and 'Slicks' as well as some 20 aerial support units, including, 2 'Puffs', 6 A-10's and four of the huge TU-160 flew, one at a time overhead, just in case.(Like an American B-1, A Mach 2.3 jet)

Money seemed to buy anything we might imagine. The 'opfor' would be in for a fight but this was not a game. Everything we had was 'hot', there were no 'Blue' tags and we even used 'Rules Of Engagement'.

We had to rescue, extract and otherwise protect the six daughters that had been kidnapped first, when completed, meaning they were safe, we should follow the 'Rules' which were 'There are no rules, boys.'

Save as many of the girls as possible, regardless of race, creed or social position. Rain 'Holy Hell' on the 'Bastards'. We thought we knew where our six were at. They all had external, internal and embedded tracking devices implanted. Even nude, the capsules they should have swallowed and the low energy devices and EM recognition masking would; should hopefully, find them. All the girls knew the drill, all had been trained for this day(By us) and we hoped it had been enough.

Two teams, each supported by a back-up team and six snipers with .416 mm rifles were sent in. Team Alpha freed five and took several light casualties. Team Bravo was damn lucky, girl 6 was being raped by some ugly MF's. Not sure how far they got with her but another SIS and Spetnaz team took charge of them trying to decide if they had enough time for questions before the return to Zurich. An added gift to our client.

One lad, an Irishman or Scot, I don't recall they all sounded the same to me, had a suggestion to assist the few we had captured alive. One should sit and just look and listen to his buddies scream and yell as they were being tortured. We did not have a lot of time so more fodder were brought in and those we thought might know something were made to watch. We were not cruel. No worse than they had treated many of those girls. They were offered food and drink. Cups of the blood drained from their dying friends, eyeballs and reproductive body parts. None seemed hungry or thirsty until one or two of them had their tongues cut out. We were surprised that some did talk. The fun the lads were having continued on though. FFL and SIS ops had learned some games in the 'Sandbox', so did Spetnaz troops.

Amsterdam, for those who have never been there, is like a city ringed by water. People live and travel on barges, much like a 'punter' on holiday or to a game uses but longer and more fancy.

We were still getting some signals. In all, 15 sites, two of which were warehouses each holding a hundred or more girls were seized. Eleven in one and eight in the other did not survive. One stood up to escape and took a round by mistake. The fortunes of war. Right, tell that to her parents. Two more had their throats cut by their captors. Those two men made a HALO jump without oxygen or a chute. Trees are not your friend when you land. Splat!

The 550 ops types acquitted themselves well. Those assault troops were paid 100,000 Euros, the rest 50,000 Euros each. Not bad for about 48 hours work. Our main objectives had been achieved and when asked where the un-used funds should be returned to, their reply was, "Why, they are not all dead, are they?" About another 500 million Euros were now being used to fund four extraction teams, fewer flights overhead and about 50 snipers, who seemed the most effective. Our enemy took a beating that first attack. As indicated there was some loose change and trinkets lying around. I took four. I figured Marcia and Giselle would look nice in their necklaces and while too young to really know the value of the rings, Bridget and Amyl could buy a small estate for what those gifts would be worth.

Our foes spread out, they curtailed their activity in France, which was what we wanted and while Cote d'azur was now safer, we turned our attention to German, Russian, Swedes and Brits being taken. If it were not for those rich and powerful benefactors operating in those areas things would not have happened. As it was, the simple outcry of parents with missing daughters crying out to the press made that scenario less acceptable than, 'them' taking action using us as hired help, so to speak.

It was not as rousing a success as we had in Amsterdam but if you listened to the speeches and the media's spin, the police had broken the back of dozens of slave rings.

Talk about luck, no wait we were not on that subject were we. As always I seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not certain what triggered their reaction but it was either a dislike for an African, an obvious Moslem or me a fairly well off white boy with them, but a dozen or so skin-heads decided to lighten us of any heavy objects of value we might carry and a few pounds of flesh. Or so they hoped, in their dreams maybe. Mufti was a knife man, through and through, Aziz stood pretty damn tall. He could play basketball even.(Juan-les-Pins was a great spot for that) What they had in common were several tours with the Legion, 1 even in Algiers. There was this thing called 'giving up to superior forces'. Not in the Legion, it was do or die and most of that gang did their part, dying that is.

Like I said home was just a dozen km away. I ended up with the one dude who had a gun. The other three died that I was fighting. The small one got me, twice before Mufti severed his head and Aziz stomped short stuff into the ground. There was blood, guts and pieces of flesh all around. Aziz bent down and looked at my wounds. He laughed and asked if I wanted a wrap or if we had time for some absinthe(They made that green stuff nearby). Mufti made a call on his SAT phone as Aziz tried to stop the most profuse of my bleeding.

In keeping with his humor, I asked if I would be able to dance. His 'Certainement" response got my reply, "funny, I could never dance before."

When help arrived we looked the sight. A bottle of red wine was placed in my good hand, another spilled over a part of me and we were off. The firm I worked for had checked them all out. I even recognized most of the folks coming to my rescue now. Apparently they had checked me out too, a lot more.

A call was made to Marcia telling her when she saw us she was to start admonishing my friends for letting me get so drunk. A call was made to Bridget that I had an accident and to open the side door, clear a path and ready a spot for me and the Doc. Not to worry everything would be all right but for appearance sake I should look like I had too much to drink. That Marcia had also been told what to say and do. No one said anything to Amyl though and she sat through everything just crying.

The man in front said a Swedish doctor and a German Medic would meet us at the house, their cover to act as more party goers to get us to come back. That if I was luckier this time a French nurse might even be there. My response was that I hoped it was a 'she' a pretty one.

I guess I was lucky. The plan worked, Marcia might have been upset since when she saw Mufti and Aziz carry me into the house, she yelled curses and started hitting whoever was trying to calm her. In this part of town our goings on were totally ignored, at least by most.

Doc did his magic. No major damage except there was going to be some infection and I would have to have both wounds re-opened and cleaned out. He felt some cloth and dirt had gotten inside the open wounds. Two shots, twice a day, for three more days followed by 10 days of pills three times a day should see me back in form. He started to hand a bag containing syringes, the two vials and two large containers of yellow pills to the very attractive French nurse. Yes, I indeed was going to get lucky finally.

Before he even got his arm raised, a small hand shot out like from a cannon at the circus and took the bag. It was Bridget. "Je Comprendre" she said. With a flip of her right hand she dismissed the Medicos. "Merci" she sweetly voiced while giving the French nurse looks that might better suit a lioness protecting her cubs.

Mufti and Aziz just looked on with raising eyebrows. The tap from Bridget and her pointing to the bedroom resulted in two snap salutes and my drunken. "Aye, Aye Cap'n". How was I to know the wine and shots did not go together. Aziz and Mufti just shook their heads as the bedroom door closed behind them on their way out.

Little Amyl now spoke, "What?" you need an invitation now, as she pointed to the couch and a soft chair. "Sit!" A two star would have gotten no better results. There was a knock on the door. Mufti on one side, Aziz on the other both ready for whatever. Amyl looked at them, shook her head, opened the door and said, "Come on in Marcia, but be careful, I have not feed them yet, and mistress is taking care of Master in the bedroom.

As if I should be so lucky.

"I heard that you little slave in training. You just wait, I'll feed you to those two watchdogs for breakfast." from Bridget in the bedroom.

Things might have stayed carefree and jovial. I could have used that, I hurt, a lot. Bridget was like an Angel, I was drowsy, very drowsy and kept calling for 'my Angel'.

Who should walk in but the wicked witch from next door. Bridget's and Amyl's wonderful mother. "I saw him come in. Get home you sluts, both of you, right now! He better give me money for all the time you two have spent here while he was gone. Lord knows what he is doing to your slut sister already. I know men and he is just like the rest of those losers with young girls around."

She started to go to the bedroom. Several things happened Amyl tried to stop her but she almost threw the 10-year old to the floor and aside. Aziz, at nearly 7 feet was not a body she could toss around. He literally picked her up, by the scruff of the neck I think. Multi, knife in hand was standing ready to do who knows what. Bridget opened the door, my blood and some wine was covering her.

"Oh my God, your not a virgin anymore, no one will buy you now. I just Kne..."

The hand closing over her mouth shut her up.

Bridget, tears rolling down her cheeks were in contrast to the look on her face.

"If that is all I am worth to you, or my sister even, I shall pay you for our freedom. Marcia, ask what amount she wants for us and pay her from the box you hold for me. Since I am a slut to her already, I should rather walk the streets than have her as my mother."

As sleepy as I was that exchange would forever be on my mind. Aziz looked into the bedroom. I made a cutting gesture across my throat. For some reason I knew one more girl, a woman this time, would disappear from the beach. Mufti and Aziz followed Marcia out. Gracie, their mom never returned with that money. No great amount of tears were shed and someone arranged for Marcia to care for Bridget and Amyl.

The two now, plus Marcia, Mufti and Aziz had taken over my house. I was not even Lord and Master of my own bedroom. The fever came, then chills, sweating and the shakes. No matter what, Bridget fed me, kept me clean and cool with a wash; or warm with blankets and her own body, when I was really cold. If there was anything any of these, my friends, ever wanted, it would be theirs if I had it.

Finally I really was better. Aziz and Mufti had stayed guarding me for three weeks. It seems the FFL we used shared some found gifts with the Company they served with. My rewards from the last two encounters had arrived at the house where Mufti handed everything to Bridget, saying, "For the Master, Mistress!" She held over 200,000 Euros in her hands and never opened the bag. Aziz and Mufti were not forgotten and their bags would make them both wealthy men. The friendships formed though were far more valuable as time would tell.

Under my pillow were those four trinkets. I asked the three of the girls to come, Marcia was not a girl anymore, try saying that to her. "Marcia, you and your sister Giselle have made me like family to you and yours. In that regard since you treat me like some King, you both should be adorned like a Queen." I handed Marcia the two necklaces. I tuned to the wide eyed pixies. "Since you both have a Queen for a mother, you both must be a Princess. When your Prince shall come, use these gifts as you see fit. know their value will make certain neither of you shall have to work again. These are yours, not your husband's."

Damn, I should have known by the silence and looks on their faces they had something already planned. When they gave a sly glance at Marcia, and she raised her eyes towards the sky, I should have just left town. I tried to change the subject to one I knew all woman, of all ages loved; and asked what gifts Marcia had gotten for Bridget's 14 birthday. It was just a question, no real answer needed.

Amyl ran as fast as the bullet train to her room(Yes, they both lived with me now.) then returned with a box. She handed it to Bridget who opened it then presented the contents to me.

"We have both made our wish too."

Inside the box were two sets of collars, waist chains and leashes. Marcia smiled like a fox. The sounds of falling silk hitting the ground, and "Collar your Slaves, Master!" were said in stereo.

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Story tagged with:
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