Chapter 1

The sharp knock on my door at this ungodly hour was truly annoying. It was a fucking Saturday morning, after all. Who the hell would need to call on me at this time ... what was it ... seven am? Holy smokes! Who knocked on my fucking door at seven am. I did my best not to wake up my recent girlfriend or was that quasi-girlfriend, whatever, my latest, as I got up in my boxers and white undershirt to answer the door. I wanted to let her rest, as one of her less charming quirks was extreme grouchiness when awakened too early. It was part of why I hadn’t committed to anything more serious yet, but far from the only motive.

I saw a tall, very cute Latina in a brown UPS uniform with some kind of very large parcel that I definitely didn’t order at all. What the hell? I could only guess what this might be, but I played along, just in case. The delivery girl was easy on the eyes in the classic Tejana manner, anyway, her long curls having just enough blonde and red highlights to be fascinating. Her bust wasn’t that large or small, somewhere in between, and her legs were frankly to die for in my estimation. Melinda, my latest flame, or whatever, would be green with envy to match her green eyes.

“Are you ... Franco De Marco?” she asked me, her name tag reading Yadira, clearly her given name.

“I am. How may I assist you?” I was surprisingly cordial under the circumstances, not wishing to take things out on this girl who was just doing her job.

“Um ... well, I got this delivery for you. Please sign for it,” Yadira told me, a shy smile crossing her face that yes, reached her soft brown eyes.

“Alright, though I didn’t order anything. You’re positive that this is a delivery for me?” I wondered now if Melinda had used my name to order something ... and maybe my card.

I would have to change some information and confront her if that happened. Then again, it could be my estranged wife Antonia, better known as “Toni,” instead. I still hadn’t forgiven her for running up so much credit card debt and hiding it from me. This financial dispute was one of a number of flare-ups that ended our three-year marriage before it produced any issue. I wouldn’t put anything past her for sure. Our divorce wouldn’t be final for another six weeks and that already felt like an eternity.

“Very much so. It’s addressed to Mr. Franco De Marco, Esquire. Does that mean that you’re a lawyer? That’s what I’ve heard, anyway,” Yadira inquired somewhat nosily.

“Yes, I practice various forms of law. Long story on that. I run my own firm, have a few associates, I don’t have any partners, and I like it that way. I’m the boss. De Marco and Associates. Any form of law particularly impact your life?” I waxed curious now.

“Um ... immigration law? I’m an American, but two of my sisters are Dreamers. You can imagine how that goes. What are your thoughts on that?” Yadira dared to ask me.

“Look, I’m somewhat more reasonable than the wing-nuts on both sides of that issue and others. We have to have a border and that requires some enforcement, and yes, some deportations. At the same time, Dreamers like your sisters only know this country. They are American in all ways but one. There is plenty of room for nuance and middle ground, a happy medium between the extremes. Slogans and soundbites don’t generally make for good public policy. Anyway, let’s look into it and see what we can do. Now, how about this package?” I now wondered, even as she brought up the first of three large boxes.

“Voila!” Yadira winked at me.

“Oh, my God ... three parcels ... what the hell?” I was about ready to fucking kill Melanie if this was her doing here.

I signed for the packages and that was when Yadira took out a box-cutter, opening the first package to reveal ... a cage. Then I looked inside the cage and there was a woman. What the hell? She had a barcode on her neck, indicating her status as a slave under the new slavery laws. Yeah, the politicians had found an end run around the Thirteenth Amendment, of course. How typical of them, right?

Why wouldn’t they? As long as it wasn’t racially based, permanent, involuntary, or not based on a criminal conviction or something similar, so far, it held up to challenges in court. I had a sneaking suspicion that some of this was due to conflicts of interest, but I couldn’t exactly prove it. I was halfway surprised that someone didn’t push to make it gynocentric or a reverse-racist kind of thing in the name of “equity.” Then again, I suppose that the greed of the elites dwarfed their woke, identity politics bullshit that was never more than a virtual signal and a smokescreen for their hypocrisy. Also, again, those kinds of distinctions would have led to legal headaches, anyway.

I just never planned on or expected to be a slaveholder myself, even if it was really a kind of indentured servitude. People colloquially labeled it “slavery,” because it was very open-ended as to the timetable, no guarantees of release, was often for debt or criminal acts, and was easier to say than “indentured servitude” or “debt-bondage.” I waited with baited breath to see who this was ... and who sent her to me. This was truly wild, after all.

“So ... someone gifted me ... a slave, and those other packages are what, equipment to take care of the slave?” I queried, making Yadira giggle a bit.

“Not ... exactly,” she told me as she cut the next box open and showed me a second cage.

“What the fuck?” I reacted as I saw that there was another girl in that new cage.

“But wait, there’s more!” Yadira laughed and opened the third box, showing a third cage with yet a third lady.

“Three slaves? What the hell? How the fuck ... who the fuck ... why the fuck?” I shook my head with genuine surprise.

“That’s not all, of course. Oh, no, here’s the package with the equipment and a special letter and envelope, etc.,” Yadira told me as she opened that, including a personalized card for my benefit.

It read...

“Dear Frank,

If you’re reading this, you’ve received my special gift to you, one intended to sweeten the pot or whatever you want to call it ... to try to ... mollify you, to ameliorate things between us. Well, three if you count all three of them. Yes, they are slaves. No, they weren’t forced to do this. They agreed rather happily to do it ... for their favorite uncle. Yes, in case you didn’t notice yet, those are your twin nieces ... by marriage ... and your sister-in-law, Bianca. Yes, that’s right, my nieces, and their mother, my sister, all agreed to do this, quite happily, in fact.

I know that sounds crazy, but if you think about it right, they were all kind of sweet on you. It never bothered me, either. I thought that it was cute, and I was frankly (bad pun, I know) quite proud that my family approved of my husband so much. I think that they also hoped that you would be ... a ‘good influence’ on me, as Mom liked to call you. You know how reckless I can be, especially when it comes to money. I didn’t have to force them at all. They agreed to become slaves and thus pay off my debts, with the stipulation that they could select their owner. They chose you, just as I wished.

So, my dear, if estranged husband, you have three new slaves, courtesy of your wife’s debts, which are now entirely paid up. You get to keep them for ten years, believe it or not, which is the standard term of debt-bondage, I might add. I really am such a selfish cunt at times, letting them pay my way. I must confess, I won’t let them back out of it, though it’s too late, anyway. I can be such a royal bitch, a true pain in the pucker. I am, however, hoping that you’ll call off the divorce now and let me come home. You won’t have to stop fucking them, which I know that you won’t be able to resist doing ... who could?

As for any other ladies, well, hey, the more, the merrier, right? I’d share you with my sister and nieces, so I would naturally share you with some other, probably basic bitch who grovels to you and isn’t some kind of entitled brat like me. Look, I know who and what I am, a fat, pampered ass bitch of Italian descent, just like you, who likes her gelato too much and racks up insane levels of credit card debt. I have my vices and my virtues. My lack of jealousy is a virtue, if you ask me. I never felt much sexual jealousy ... not only with you, but with others.

I’ll be honest here ... I’m kind of a slut. You probably realized that by now. God, I’ve been your wife for three years, so you presumably know that I cheated on you plenty of times! I like sex, I like food, I like finer things, I like to spend money, especially someone else’s money, etc. I know that you finally got around to cheating on me after a while, at least after you realized that I wasn’t faithful to you.

Melinda was hardly the first. You resisted your urges, but as the saying goes, the thirst always wins. You’re of Italian stock, just like me. Those of us from the boot, we just have those kinds of needs. I’ve always felt that there could never be too much of a good thing, whether food, sex, or anything else that I enjoyed. I hoped that you would see it that way, but evidently, we don’t always see eye to eye. Even so, I really desire a reconciliation between us, though I accept that it might not be an easy sell.

In any case, I’m more than happy to gift this to you, if only to compensate for the fucking pain I was in your ass during our marriage. I’m deeply sorry that I was such an awful wife, though I never meant to be. It was the thirst, which always wins, as you know. You held out against it longer than me, probably through sheer force of will. It must have been very frustrating and difficult at times...

If the truth were told, I wish that you hadn’t resisted it. I would have loved to catch you in bed with another woman, yes, even Melinda, and joined you. I would never have been such a hypocrite as to count your infidelity against you when I’m unfaithful myself. As I said, I don’t really get sexual jealousy. It’s just not who I am, despite that other reputation about Italians. It’s not too late, unless you wish it to be. We can make it a true menage a trois situation, not counting my sister and nieces, of course.

Tell me, is Melinda into girls at all? I’m just curious, you know. No particular reason.

Your loving wife, Toni

I shook my head as I reread that letter a few more times. My dear wife, trying too hard to make amends, not that I was in any position to refuse her gift. I shuddered to think what might happen to Bianca, Chloe, and Zoe, if I didn’t welcome them. Well, I thought, this will be a real, albeit impromptu test of the relationship dynamics with Melinda. If she thought before that there was a chance of a monogamous situation, this will absolutely disabuse her of that.

I smiled at Yadira as I finished all of the legal red tape regarding the parcels and packages, as well as the attached correspondence. That was when she planted a kiss directly on my lips and closed the door behind us. Before I could even make sense of her actions, the UPS girl unzipped her shorts, pulled them down to her ankles, bent over, and made it clear that she wanted a quickie. Not being in any way obligated to fidelity or exclusivity, and frankly finding the young lady desirable, I eased into Yadira from behind and playfully slapped her buttocks.

Maybe I would get to sire some progeny to hopefully survive the apparent downfall of civilization. It was a sacred duty to do so at this point, to leave a legacy that would then emerge on the other side and pass on one’s values as well as one’s genes. That was another reason that I was more centrist than rightist on immigration. There were far too many available women from the Dreamers and their families who would make excellent mating options if one wished to sire any spawn to continue one’s memory and one’s bloodline. One would be a fool to reject the chance to ensure the survival of one’s posterity on the brink of societal collapse.

That’s the trouble with monogamy, I thought to myself. It minimizes the optimal genes and it maximizes the subpar ones. It pretends that everyone’s genetic legacy is equal, and that clearly isn’t the case. Any decent geneticist, if they were honest, would have to admit that some genes improve the overall quality of the genepool and some do not. Idiots and mediocrities shouldn’t breed at the same rate as better men. Napoleon certainly grasped that, and he was no scientist, but a military, legislative, and administrative genius nonetheless.

The harder I thrust inside Yadira, the more that she pushed back feverishly against me, hot beads of sweat dripping down her soft, sleek skin. I slapped her bottom again and she became noticeably more aroused, even bucking her hips and pressing her cheeks against my hand to signal for more. I kept swatting her tush and pounding her pussy for several more minutes, each stroke getting both of us closer as we realized that we didn’t use any kind of protection, neither of us, at all. We both knew that we didn’t want me to pull out, either. I wanted to breed the fuck out of Yadira and she wanted me to do so.

I was pretty far inside Yadira, pumping in and out of her with a fury, when I felt two smooth arms wrapping around my waist. I could smell the intoxicating scent of Melinda’s perfume, too, as she must have freshened up a bit, which meant that she had to have been up for at least a little while. How long had she been listening in on us or maybe even watching as I began reaming sweet Yadira? Melinda kissed the back of my neck as she began pushing and pulling me in and out of Yadira.

“I knew it, Frank! I knew that you were a horndog deep down ... I just had to bring it out of you. You’re Italian, after all! I’m Irish, you’re Italian, we should make one helluva brat, right? Maybe several of them! They’ll definitely have to be close to their siblings, so I’ll have to be very nice to your other ladies. Play dates ... and other kinds of dates! Just make sure to recover enough to give me a turn ... and save something for the slave girls! They look ... yummy!” Melinda whispered huskily as she egged me on to keep fucking the UPS girl.