Chapter 2

Then one day I saw a newspaper headline

PENAL SERVITUDE FOR CROOKED ACCOUNTANT

Glancing idly at the story I saw that the defendant had been convicted of embezzling nearly £1m from clients. The judge’s sentencing remarks talked about an intelligent young man whose wife’s financial appetites had led him astray. He had stolen to fund her serious shopping habit. The sentence was 20 years penal servitude, and the judge commented on how hard this would be on his wife and young daughter, but such offences needed severe punishment, and that was what he got.

Even then I nearly missed it. It was only when I glanced at the accompanying photograph that i realised that the defendant was Rob. The photo showed him arriving at court for sentencing. The beautiful black hair was cut short, but the face was still there, as was the impressive figure

I hadn’t thought of him for years., but the wheels began to turn in my head. He would be available for sale - as a slave.

I went online and found the site where slaves were offered for sale. He wasn’t listed, and in my overenthusiasm it took me a minute to realise that it would be a while before his details were added to the site.

I haunted that site for days. It took them two weeks to get him up there, and as soon as they did, I registered an interest and asked for a viewing appointment.

A week later I was back in my home town for the first time in many years, and visiting the local prison. Having identified myself, I was taken to the viewing and interviewing rooms.

As I waited for him to be brought to me, I could feel my pulse quicken. It was nearly ten years since we had met; what would he be like? Would I still fancy him?

The door opened, and a guard led him in, hands shackled together. He wore only a thin pair of shorts, no shoes or shirt. His back was striped with marks of a caning, and he had a black eye.

But underneath the face was still beautiful; the hair, though short, was still of a lustrous black; and the figure was still very impressive. I couldn’t see the most important bit – yet - though the shorts seemed quite nicely filled. I salivated, remembering the brief glances ten years earlier.

My heart lurched. I felt a strong urge to go to him, take him in my arms, give him a consoling hug and kiss away the pain he had obviously suffered...

No, no, that would never do. He was now a slave, and I was planning to become his master.

He stood looking at me, and it took him a few moments to recognise me. Finally

‘You’ he said.

‘That’s right. Nice to see you again’

He said nothing to that, and the guard said to me

‘You get 30 minutes alone with him. No touching. Then you can make an offer for him if you want’

When we were alone he said, rather wearily

‘Why are you here?’

I smiled, but not really in a nice way

‘Don’t be like that, Rob. In the mess you’re in now, I’m your last and best hope. £1m theft and 20 years penal servitude. Tough sentence that’.

He grimaced but said nothing.

I can see they’ve been caning you already, and someone’s given you a nasty black eye. I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from.’