Chapter 1: Slave Furlong

The blue minivan was marked with the Silver Wolf Slave Advocacy logo. Inside were three people. Riding in the front were a man and a woman in fashionable business suits. Clipped to their jacket pockets were ID badges. Both were citizens—neither wore slave collars or Legal Resident wristbands. The naked man in the back wore a metal slave collar around his neck and was in the Nevada Department of Public Safety-approved 7-point slave vehicular restraint system. Metal bands on his wrists and ankles stabilized him in a semi-displayed position. A tight waistband and a pair of shoulder straps held him firmly upright and facing to curbside. The back of the van had been designed to transport eight slaves in safety and with minimal discomfort.

"How are you doing back there, Emmet?" The woman's badge gave her name as Holly Goodstone. "Are you okay?"

"I can't complain, Ms. Goodstone." The naked slave said.

"Health and welfare question, Slave Emmet," the man's badge was printed with the name Brian Waithwright, "are you sweating back there? I need to know that my air conditioning isn't making you sick."

"I'm quite comfortable, Mr. Waithwright. May I thank you for taking me to see my family?"

"You may, and you're welcome," the man said.

"RIGHT TURN 300 METERS AHEAD." Modern automobiles featured on-board navigation systems and robot drivers. "TURN RIGHT ON THE DIRT ROAD. FOLLOW IT FOR 5 KILOMETERS."

"Dirt road?" Brian asked. "Holly, you said that this was a high-tech medical research facility."

"It is. That really isn't a dirt road or I'd have to manually drive there. The navigator would still tell me where I was, but I'd have to do the driving—just like at the Virginia City Theme Park."

"TURNING RIGHT. SILVER ORB 5 KILOMETERS."

"Emmet, tell me about your last furlong," Holly commanded. "You watched your wife sexually service the entire first squad of the State College X-ball team. You were then used by some of the team yourself. Did Woodward Data Systems provide aftercare for you?"

"No, ma'am. That was taken care of by Master Hank's personal physician."

"WDS is supposed to provide all your medical needs," Brian complained. "I'll have to look into that."

"I've got it right here," Holly displayed a personal interface device that was trademarked Palm Slave. "Two weeks ago a Dr. Roger Kingbee received a deposit from the Woodward Data Systems for post-sex examination and after-care. Even though it was a house call Dr. Kingman received $29 for his visit which was donated to the Gorman Liverstall Slave Advocacy Agency."

"Our competitors!" Brian groused. "Well, we're officially off duty as soon as we deliver Emmet to his family. I've never been here before."

"Silver Orb is a small town of about 600," Holly answered. "As I told you in your briefing every free adult, citizen or Legal Resident, is a licensed prostitute. That includes the man we're seeing."

"An entire town of prostitutes."

"There's nothing shameful about being a prostitute. Hank Dalton owns the town but unlike most brothel owners is licensed as a prostitute and is available upon appointment." Holly huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, you did come here for the orgy this afternoon. You will be having sex with prostitutes. We'll stay at my sisters."

"She just became a slave?"

"Last month. Right after her twins reached the age of consent—Becky did it so that she can become a slave advocate, too. We can ask to see the family vids tonight after the orgy—if you can stay awake, that is. That was quite a combination collaring party and birthday celebration! Becky was collared and her obedience training is almost finished. She's supposed to service seven men tonight. Wait to you meet Kelly—that's Hank Dalton's wife. Victor hired Kelly and Hank to service their kids. I expected Jewel to refuse to use her own mother, but I thought that all boys had no conscience when it came to their dicks. James said that he couldn't do his own mother even if she was a slave. You know what they say..."

"Slaves never say no," Brian frowned. "The kids are off limits—I hope."

"Unless you are a licensed prostitute hired by their parents," Holly tossed her head. "Children between the age of consent and adulthood may have sex with registered prostitutes in this state, but the children cannot BE prostitutes. And only adults may hire prostitutes."

"I understand that slaves can be hired out for sex only if their owner has a brothel license, had the required health insurance and the slaves used for sex are given a bonus that can be collected at the end of their term." Brian glanced back at Emmet. "If the company only uses the services of their slaves as an employee benefit, no licensing is required. Only when the slaves are used as prostitutes for outsiders—because the brothel business was legal here more than a century before the rest of the nation legalized prostitution."

"They call Nevada the Sin Capital of Capitallia," Holly scoffed, "just because they legalized prostitution and gambling way back in the Dark Ages! Nevada businessmen often will rent or lease prostitutes as part of their marketing budget. It is less expensive than making all company slaves prostitutes. Some companies do have one or two designated slave prostitutes—unlike other states in Capitallia where the slave can be used for commercial sex in direct competition with licensed brothels, escort services and street walkers."

"1931 was not the dark ages," Brian rolled his eyes. "They had radio and cars and electric lights back then."

"Not in Silver Orb! It was a dusty little commune of 200 souls back then, all members of the First Church of Earth. They were moon worshippers who pretended to be Christian to avoid prosecution. They still worship nude. The church is one of the places were nudity is mandatory in the town. The rest of Silver Orb is clothing optional, though most businesses have naked staff. There are only a handful of citizens and slaves in town, the rest are non-citizens. Hank Dalton bought the place 20 years ago and most of their business is medical research contracting."

"WARNING: NAKED PEOPLE WILL BE ENCOUNTERED BEYOND THIS POINT." The mini-van's navigator announced. "PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK."

"Automobile, stop." The mini-van coasted to a stop. Holly unfastened her safety harness and began disrobing as soon as they stopped moving.

"What are you doing?"

"Becky's household was always a naked one," Holly explained as she undressed. "She would sleep naked and didn't wear clothes unless she had to while we were growing up. Then she met her husband Victor and she seldom wore anything again." Holly rolled up her suit, blouse and tie. She wasn't wearing socks or underwear. Refastening the safety harness, Holly commanded the minivan's robot driver to resume. "Ah, that's better, Nevada permits breast feeding in public and free women have the same top-free rights as men, but there are a lot of Catholics and Mormons here. Larger cities will fine you for disturbing the peace except for designated zones. We all have to share the public spaces."

"You didn't tell me that you became a nudist."

"My slave time was spent here. I got used to being naked. I'm going to spend my next vacation here."

"Your son will really like that!"

"There's the scanner." The minivan slowed down and a voice announced that they had arrived at Silver Orb. There was a fading purple banner with a silver full moon, the words 'Silver Orb Naturist Ranch' in silver letters. Holly announced them without rolling down the windows—an old-fashioned comm box stood on a post in front of an unoccupied gatehouse.

"ENTRY GRANTED AT 1217 NEW YORK CITY TIME. THE LOCAL TIME IS 0917 AND THE AIR TEMPERATURE IS 32 GRAD," the voice of the minivan said as motorized gates opened up. "PROCEEDING TO 14 TRUCK FARM ALLEY, DALTON RESIDENCE. HANK DALTON HAS BEEN NOTIFIED OF YOUR ARRIVAL."

"This place still looks like a rustic old resort town or one of the communes left over from the USA days."

"It's supposed to, Brian. If you look at that building over there, the grocery store, you'll see that the exterior is artificially weather beaten. Hank told me that the Druidical cultists were non-violent to a fault, but manufacturing camouflage so that other people would think that there was nothing here worth stealing was okay. This place is also the manufacturing center for those crafts on sale back in Silver Springs. You can order original pieces that are not impregnated with RFID tags. Some people prefer stuff like that."

"But what if someone steals their unmarked stuff? Insurance companies will not insure items that are not marked. They even inserted RFID tags in unique art work at the museums."

"The items are not expensive. Why pay for insurance on things that wear out or that you will dispose of after use? We're passing the largest building in town. See that barn-like structure? That is the civic center. It is used for all school assemblies and for town meetings. There are church services there, too. The cultists prefer to worship in the open air. There's one of them now."

"Look at the size of the bush on that broad!" Brian pointed at a woman with waist-length brown hair. Her pubic bush extended up to her navel and covered her inner thighs half-way down. The woman had noticeably hairy legs and dark hair peeked out from her arm pits as she strode barefoot and nude down the street with a child holding on to each hand. The children wore Silver Orb school uniforms. The woman wore a gold torque around her neck. "She is a licensed prostitute?"

"The cultists are committed naturists. They think it is sinful to cut their hair. All the men have full beards too." Holly snickered. "You aren't prejudiced, are you? There are all sorts of exotic tastes in women. The hairy fetish market is one reason why every prostitute isn't a living, breathing copy of that Lilly doll little girls have been buying for nearly two centuries."

"The children are wearing clothes—isn't this a nudist colony?"

"They wear them to school. The Silver Orb Private Academy mandates school uniforms for children in grades 1-8. The lower grades can remove their clothing for recess, the upper grades generally have one nude class per day, everyone takes lunch naked, but learning to wear clothes is part of the education process."

"I remember how embarrassed I was when I had to shower with all the other boys," Brian reflected. "I would have just died of embarrassment if a girl saw me when I was 8 years old. I would blush if a girl flashed her panties at me. Being a slave for six months got rid of my modesty."

"Then why are you still wearing clothes?"

"ARRIVAL, 14 TRUCK FARM ALLEY, SILVER ORB, NEVADA. DALTON RESIDENCE." The voice of the minivan announced that the vehicle was in PARK and that the drive train had shut off.

"Are you going to undress here or inside?" Holly asked.

"Inside."

"Chicken!"

"Am not!"

"Prove it!"

The minivan had parked itself in front of a building resembling a warehouse. The front door opened and a tall naked man walked to the minivan.

"Holly, good to see you again. Thank you for bringing Emmet. Can you release him now? His children are eating breakfast. Their bus will be here in about a half hour."

"Bubbles," Holly said.

"HOLLY GOODSTONE, AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED AND ACCEPTED." The minivan said.

"Release Emmet and open the slave compartment doors."

The doors on either side slid open and the buckles and straps released. Emmet sat there wearing only his slave collar. Slaves need permission for everything, even to see their families.

"Emmet, go into the house. You know where the kitchen is." Holly got out and stretched with her body half in shadow and half in sunlight. "This is going to be a scorcher again!"

"The high is predicted to be only 40 Grad today," Hank said as Brian got out of the van. "It got to 43 yesterday. This is a desert, a place known for high temperatures."

"Let's get inside before the sun gets us," Brian joked. "Besides, I could use a cup of tea after that drive."

The three free people followed Emmet into the house. Confronting the two slave advocates were a group of children in school uniforms lined up at the door. They wore empty backpacks and white short-sleeved shirts over a pair of purple shorts. Sandals protected their feet. Each child had a purple wrist band on their left arm. There were several naked adult women fussing over the children—and in a corner of the room observing everything was a short stout figure dressed in black.

Emmet was on his knees embracing two children dressed in school uniforms. The taller, older child was a boy and the shorter girl was telling her father that he didn't need to cry.

"Its okay, Lucy. Daddy is very glad to see you again." The speaker was a medium-sized young woman with large breasts and shoulder length brown hair. The bangs set off her chocolate drop eyes. Her name was Beverly Albertson, Emmet's wife. She wore only her Legal Resident identification bracelet. "You can see him when you get out of school."

"She can see her father at the assembly this afternoon," the speaker was the figure in black and she had a feminine contralto voice with a West Coast accent. "Sir, I'm Corporal Culp, Department of Youth Intervention. Which slave advocacy agency are you from? And why doesn't this woman have her Legal Resident bracelet?"

"Because I'm a citizen," Holly replied. "Holly Goodstone, Silver Wolf Slave Advocacy. This is my partner, Brian Waithwright."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. This town gives me the creeps with everybody running around naked." Corporal Culp shuddered. "It must be drafty in winter! I'm here with an inspection team. We'll be at school assembly. Emmet is going to talk to the kids here about stealing."

"Yes, we know what he did."

"My partner will meet me here and we will inspect all the child labor work spaces. I'm checking on the children here because there are surrogate mothers. You need to check them yourself. This town has not reported any crime for fifty-two years, just shortly after the war. I thought that they were covering up something," Culp shuddered again. "I'm sorry, but my momma brought me up modest. Ms. Goodstone—"

"Please call me Holly. I'm not really dressed for formality."

"Since you have no secrets from me you can call me Wanda. Why doesn't being naked bother you? I'm bothered. Is that a heart down there?"

"Yes," Holly stood feet apart and rolled her pelvis to display a heart-shaped tuft of red-tinted pubic hair. "I sculpted it for a party with my sister. Slave advocate organization officers are required to have been slaves for a minimum of six months so that they can better understand what slavery means to a slave. I was enslaved to Hank right here in this home. Being a slave includes spending a week in a brothel servicing customers just like any other slave prostitute. Silver Orb has its own brothel. No special consideration. After that, being naked in a nudist colony is anything but embarrassing. Here—see these marks? They're from a cigar. The client who did this to me was fined for slave abuse—just $50 that went to the brothel. I got a shower and some burn ointment. If he had requested a slave to burn, he could have gotten that for just $20. No, after my experiences I lost all false modesty. I had to have some memories modified so that I couldn't remember specific sex customers any more, but because I needed to experience slavery first hand for myself, I remember everything that was done to me. I just cannot remember names and faces. I can't even remember if it was a man or a woman—I said 'he' because most women don't waste their money on sex. They can get all the sex they want and even get something in return, a promotion, dinner, a few drinks—and that isn't classified as prostitution so long as no money is exchanged. It could have been a woman."