Chapter 1: I Was A Confederacy Slave

Maybe I should be ashamed to be a slave, or a drone, or a concubine, or whatever you want to call it. But I'm not. Looking back, I see that my journey to this point has been inevitable. It became inevitable when I first met Her, or rather, when I first came to Her attention.

Back then I was a teenaged geek. I was academically advanced and socially retarded. I had completed elementary school two grades ahead of my age cohort when the state school system de-funded any advanced placement classes in our district and I was placed into normal classes.

At that time in childhood development, six months makes a huge difference in growth and maturity and I was put back in classes with kids two and three years older than me. I was tall for my age, so the disparity wasn't immediately obvious, but I was a slow bloomer physically. Adding this slow physical maturing to the age difference and I was effectively three or four years behind my classmates in physical and emotional development. Add to that the fact that my very religious parents discouraged any of my friendships outside our small church group, and it was pretty much a grand slam of social dysfunction.

All this added up to middle school and high school experiences that were embarrassing in the locker room and almost physically painful in (non-existent) dating. I focused on doing well in math and science and music (band and orchestra) and reading golden age science fiction.

I longed to be one the three boys in 'Rocket Ship Galileo, ' or Kip Russell in 'Have Spacesuit, Will Travel.' I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. When rumors of the Confederacy started circulating in my senior year, I was excited. But my parents told me that it was most likely a scam of the government to keep people distracted from the sluggish economy. Life seemed to stretch out before me as an endless, joyless, gray plain.

Cindy Lou Hastings was the girl who finally figured me out. Cindy Lou wasn't 'book smart, ' but she had an animal cunning. She was a year older than all the other kids in her class from being held back a year as a sophomore. I found out later that she planned to do what her daddy did when he dropped out of school 20 years earlier, which was join the Army. But the Army quit taking people without high school diplomas years ago. So she came back the year I entered ninth grade, burning to get finished with high school and get on with her life.

Cindy was a fair-complexioned, dish-water blond. Her figure was what my mother called "big boned." She wasn't slim and waif-like as many other girls her age. She wasn't fat, but she was solidly built. Her hips and her breasts were those of a woman. She seemed much more grown-up than her extra year would account for, as if she had lived two or three years in the summer between sophomore and junior years. She seemed to look down on the high school social pecking order going on around her.

Since I had read months ahead in my course work, my Algebra teacher had me helping the five kids in the class that were failing, but the only one who seemed interested in my help was Cindy Lou. She let me sit with her during lunch, and I all but wrote the answers to her Algebra homework for her. She sat next to me in the Band section at the Friday night football game and I wrote her American History paper for her. She kissed me behind the bleachers after school until I creamed in my pants and I promised to write her English assignments for the rest of the school year.

In a way, I guess, I was already her slave.

Her friends teased her about her new boyfriend, but Cindy knew better. A year working for a living outside the hothouse of High School social conflicts had given her an accurate view of all those petty squabbles. With my help she had gotten off the principal's shit list and was headed for graduation. To me she was my sun and moon. I swear that when I looked at her, there was a glow or aura around her. I didn't realize then that that glow originated in my pants.

Of course, my parents hated her. "Why can't you find a nice girl in our church youth group?" my mom would ask. Of course, the girls in my church youth group were just as old as the girls in school (my mom insisted that I attend Sunday School classes at the same level as my public school classes), so while there was less overt meanness, they were all looking dreamy-eyed at the college-aged guys. I was functionally invisible to them.

One day, midway through our senior year, Cindy Lou brought me home with her. I was scared and eager at the same time. What did she want? She told her momma that we were going back into her bedroom to do "homework." Her mom just shrugged and went back to lighting her Virginia Slim and watching her "Finding Bigfoot" shows.

In the bedroom, Cindy Lou sat me on her bed. I was vibrating with excitement. I glanced around. There, hanging off a bedpost was a brassiere, just out in the open for anyone to see! I thought about those cups holding Cindy Lou's breasts. I was getting an erection, so I held my schoolbooks in my lap to cover it.

Cindy turned to me. I looked into her eyes and fell in. "Jimmy," she asked me, "do you ever watch Average Joe?"

"Aw, Cindy Lou, you know that my parents don't let me watch that, especially not with all the warnings and parental advisories that they're running." I tried to smile suavely. "I could have watched it with you if you'd invited me over."

"You can see the whole thing on YouTube," she pointed out. "You could Google "Getting it Right."

"My parents have our only computer in the family room, where there isn't any privacy. They check the browser history. Last winter I accidentally clicked on a link to a porn site and they freaked out. They told the school that I not allowed to use the computers in the library."

She seemed surprised, though she had seen evidence of how strict my parents were many times before. "Have you taken that CAP test?" she asked.

"No, why?" Her change of subject confused me.

"Never mind." She thought for a moment. "Tell your parents at breakfast tomorrow morning that we're going to the library to study after school. We'll take the bus to the testing center."

"Oh, Cindy Lou, I don't know." I was torn between fourteen years of obedience and nearness of Cindy Lou's breasts. Ordinarily, I would have said no, but sitting here in Cindy Lou's bedroom, where she got undressed every night; sitting on the bed where she fell asleep, made everything lots more complicated. "I feel funny about lying to my parents."

Cindy Lou leaned forward until her face filled my vision. I sensed the heat of her body, the warmth of her breath, smelled the strawberry aroma of her lip gloss, and then felt the soft contact of her lips on mine. I was lost in that kiss, dizzy, unable to tell up from down. I felt her take my right hand in both of her hands and place it on her left breast. Time stopped. I could feel the soft jersey material of her blouse, and under that, the seams and underwire of her bra, and under that, the warm, soft fullness or her breast. I just knew that I was going to burn in Hell for that touch. If we kept this up, I was going to ejaculate in my pants, just as I had done behind the school's grandstands. I'd have to walk all the way home with my schoolbooks covering my damp crotch.

She pulled back from the kiss just slightly, so that when she spoke, her lips brushed mine. "Oh, Jimmy, won't you do this for me?"

My head spun. My heart was beating wildly. "Of course I will Cindy Lou, you just had to ask."

She removed my hand from her breast and patted it, affectionately. I knew that I wouldn't wash that hand for a week.

The next day, after school, we skipped the school bus ride home and caught the city transit bus for downtown. I felt like a secret agent. Any one of these people could report back to my parents that I wasn't on the bus to the civic center, where the library was, but to an outlying shopping center. There was a whiff of danger in the air that added spice to the experience of sitting next to Cindy Lou on the bus seat, my hand casually resting on the seat next to me, brushing her thigh. When the bus bounced the back of my small finger would get a brief sensation of touching. I hoped that she didn't notice that I was copping a feel. I hoped that none of the other passengers (who were possible agents of my parents, ready to radio in as they stepped off the bus) noticed my covert feeling of Cindy's leg, or the erection that was starting to tent my pants.

Then the driver made a sharp left-hand turn and Cindy Lou slid across the seat a bit, stopping with her thigh resting on, almost covering, my hand. Surely she was aware of this! But she gave it no notice, turning to me with a bright smile. "Almost there," she said.

"Almost." I agreed numbly. She knew that I was feeling her leg and she wasn't mad! I thought that this must be the woman I was destined to marry. I would take her to church with me and she would get saved and then we could get married and would spend our lives gazing into each other's eyes ... and feeling her breasts.

We got off the bus about half a block from the testing station. I was trying to carry my schoolbooks plus hers, covering the embarrassing lump in my pants. Cindy Lou didn't notice; she grabbed my free hand and pulled me down the street.

Holding hands, we stepped into the testing center and found ourselves in a large, empty lobby. I was relieved that no one who might talk to my parents was here.

We crossed the room. There was a large receptionist's desk with a gorgeous blonde sitting behind it. "How can I help you today?" said the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My jaw dropped. I could not believe that the Confederacy had supermodels answering phones. She filled out a green uniform top like it was tailored for her. Cindy Lou saw my stare and jerked my hand. I dropped our schoolbooks and bent down to pick them up.

While I was bent over, Cindy Lou firmly said, "We're both here to take the CAP test."

"Very good," replied the receptionist, "I assume that you are both over fourteen years old and have ID?"

"Yes. I'm eighteen and my friend is fourteen. I have a state driver's license, and my friend has a school I.D.," said Cindy Lou.

"Very good. May I see your I.D.s?"

I had just stood back up and Cindy Lou had me set the books down on the desk and fish my school I.D. out of my wallet. I was kind of ashamed of the picture; 'cause it was taken last fall during a time when my mom was trying to save money and gave me a home haircut. It only took four weeks for my hair to grow back enough to go to a regular barber, but in the meantime the school I.D. photos had been taken. I tried to seem cool and unconcerned as I laid the card down in front of the beautiful woman.

She looked quickly, but closely, at both cards and said, "Good. You're in luck. Things are slow today and so there are several testing rooms open right now." As she was speaking, two equally beautiful women stepped through a door in the rear of the lobby. "If you'll go with Bridget and Susanne, we'll have you testing right away.

I was totally at sea. I had no idea of what CAP testing was, or what it involved, but if it involved my spending even a few minutes with one of these goddesses, I was all for it.

I don't know if it was Bridget or Susanne who took my hand, and really, it didn't matter. Her touch was electric. She led me down a short hall to a small room with a reclining chair. She directed me to sit, then took the stack of schoolbooks away from me and set them beside the recliner. I sat and asked her what was next. She directed my attention to a video screen in front of me. She stepped the door and touched a panel that dimmed the lights. She said, "Just watch the screen and listen closely to the questions. You'll want to do as best you can on the test."

She was right. I wanted to do the best I could. I settled into the chair as the video screen lit up.

I don't remember much of the test. I do remember a section that asked me to classify rotating polyhedrons, which stumped me for a second, then I realized that the shapes were rotating on a vertical axis if the number of sides of the constituent polygons were odd numbered, and on a skewed axis if the polygons sides were even numbered. The portion about a burning building scared the crap out of me, as though I wasn't just watching a movie but really had become part of it. I was able to rescue the child and the pregnant woman, but I was too scared to go into the building a third time.

I woke up with a start in the recliner. I guess I dozed off during the test. Well, that would louse up my score. I hoped that the receptionist and Bridget and Susanne wouldn't laugh at me. I'd have to face Cindy Lou, though. She seemed to be so anxious to take the test, I'm sure that she would be mad about my falling asleep and getting a low score.

I gathered up the books just as Bridget (or was it Susanne?) opened the door. "Good, you're ready to go. We've had some more people show up, so we'll get you finished and out of here."

"Uh, ma'am, do you know if I passed the test?"

She laughed like silver bells chiming, "Oh, it's not that kind of test. It's more a 'placement' test to see where in the Confederacy you fit in."

"Well, uh, where would I fit in?"

"Oh, lots of places." She said vaguely. She looked at me as though I were a pound of beef in the supermarket. "Let's leave the analysis to Joan, out front. That's her specialty."

I followed Bridget out front and saw that Cindy Lou was talking to the receptionist, Joan. They were looking at a computer display built into the reception desktop. I walked up just as Joan was saying, " ... so you see his cognition sub-scores top out, but his aggression scores are so low that it brings his total to a 6.3. He's somebody that we'd like to have, but unless he has a sponsor, he stays here."

Cindy Lou nodded. "I see. But it's just that he's so passive, I don't think that he can keep me happy."

Joan chuckled, "Girl, there are so many alpha males out there, especially in the Marines, that you won't lack for aggressive attention. And looking at these scores, he'd make a nice, comforting person to come home to. Very family oriented."

Cindy Lou looked up and saw me standing and waiting for her to finish her conversation before I announced my presence. She smiled possessively. "Jimmy, hasn't it been a lifelong dream of yours to go to space?"

"You bet! But I don't see that happening with the cutbacks in the space program."

"Would you go if I could sponsor you?"

"Oh, Cindy Lou, that would be a dream come true!" I gushed; but I was puzzled, "How does this 'sponsor' thing work, though?"

Joan said, "Just say that you accept Cindy here as your sponsor, and that is that."

"And that would get me into space?"

Joan smiled and nodded.

"I accept Cindy Lou as my sponsor!" I almost shouted in my joy.

Cindy said, "I accept Jimmy as my concubine."

'Hey, ' I wondered, 'what was this 'concubine' business?'

A voice from out of nowhere said, "The agreement is recorded."

Joan looked at Cindy silently for a moment, as though judging her, then leaned across the desk and said, in a low voice, "I shouldn't say this, and I'll probably get in trouble, but you should know that some of the best pick-ups occur at small diners." Joan covered Cindy Lou's hand with her own and a look passed between them that I couldn't figure out. "Lunch rushes are peak times, because lots of blue-collar working types are there." She broke off her eye-to-eye stare and sat back up. "You know that you'll need to select one more concubine?"

Cindy Lou nodded, "I've got another picked out. She's the one that alerted me to the testing. She is another 6.3. She's like Jimmy here, smart but as passive as a lamb."

A chime sounded and Joan removed two somethings from a slot on the desk, placing them on the desk surface. They were two cards. One had Cindy Lou's picture and '6.8' in large numbers beneath it. Another badge, right next to hers, had my photo and the numbers '6.3' beneath it. I felt crushed. I had taken a test and scored lower that Cindy Lou? I asked if I could re-take the test. Joan said I could re-take the test at a future date.

I turned to Cindy Lou. My sponsor? Cindy Lou scooped both cards off of Joan's table and dropped them into her purse. "I'll carry these. You wouldn't want your mom to find it in your pocket as she went through the laundry tonight." She grabbed my hand again and led me out the door and down the block toward the bus stop.

Cindy Lou was right. I had almost no privacy at home. My parents were determined that their child would never do drugs, or read pornography, or grow up and have a private thought. I resented it, but I had four more years before I could leave home. If only I was eighteen like Cindy Lou.

"So tomorrow, Jimmy, we're skipping out of school after second period."

"Cindy Lou! My parents will have a fit! I'll get grounded for a year!"

"No you won't, Jimmy, tomorrow, you'll go into space. Hey, do you know Tina Padds?"

I was confused at her change of subject. "Sure, she in my church's youth group and in the Chess Club with me. She's real quiet. Kind of cute, though. Her parents are even tougher than mine."

"That's her. She's coming with us. So you think she's pretty?"

"Well, yeah," I blushed, "But she's not a patch on you."

Cindy Lou smirked, "That's what I think, too. Kind of mousey, but I bet she's cute with her clothes off."

I was scandalized. I would have told Cindy Lou how she shouldn't talk like that, especially about another girl, but my cock had started to spring another boner and the bus had pulled up to the bus stop.

That night, during the daily cross-examination my parents gave me every dinnertime, they zoomed in on my library trip. I knew that they wouldn't accept that I was completely without flaw, so I gave them something to chew on, like giving a dog a bone. "I was helping Cindy Lou Jenkins do library research for a history paper."