Judy's Misadventures Ch. 01

I wrote much of another tale of Bolry and the Sex Slave Lottery, but events caused me to decide to move in this slightly different direction.

This story includes the same elements as the Bolry stories (sex slavery, BDSM, breeding, sexual politics, workplace harassment and a dystopian country). It is somewhat less brutal than the historical work that inspired some elements of it. It is dark and, depending on how you read it, bitter. If you did not like Sex Slave Lottery and the 150th Slave, do not waste your time here.

*****

Judy or the Misadventures of Reluctant Sin

Chapter One - A dinner at the Green Restaurant

Judy was able at last, despite her very busy and physically exhausting schedule, to meet with Eduard and Loretta. The three were in a fine, if highly unusual, restaurant called the "Green Restaurant." Eduard wore a black judicial robe. After greetings, looking at the menu and ordering wine and dinner, Eduard asked Judy about her life. Judy spoke without interruption at length.

_____

Judy's Story begins

The nation of Taritarat was always important in my life. My mother, Gloria, said she had conceived me there on a free love commune located on the outskirts of the steamy coastal cities, the port, Glaessov, and the capital, Lbirne. She said she met my father in one of a dozen such communes where American, Australian and west European free spirits enjoyed cheap drugs and a complete lack of government oversight.

They avoided the stern hill country interior with its puritanical religious zealots. "Judy," mom told me when I was about 18, "I was lucky to be able to know who your father was. We got married out of fear of the fundamentalists, who said they'd kill the unrighteous. We settled into a dull monogamy the last few months before we left Taritarat when we feared the fanatics could not be contained. Before those last months, I did everything with everyone. You were destined to be a slave of your desires and the people who fulfill them although it doesn't seem to have happened so far."

As public records from the late 80s and early 90s record, the freedoms of Taritarat, born of the fact that no one was in charge, devolved into chaos and civil war. The central government could not suppress the Kharatist Nubimbi or the Quanite Wallee tribesman that began to raid the lands near the coast even while warring constantly with each other. The central government officials were corrupt and most were incompetent. Few wanted to leave their desks, comfort and sex affairs in the cities. The libertines and intellectuals in the cities realized their lives were threatened but unwilling to fight. Then the Nubimbi and Wallee for a time put aside their ancient feuds and began to attack the cities in a coordinated fashion demanding an end to taxes and decadence and a return to God.

Shortly, after I was conceived, the Nubimbi and Wallee were near breaking into the cities. My parents fled Taritarat in 1987 with me in utero to come to Florida where I grew up with my sister, Cate, who was born in 1989 and my brother, Charles, born a year after Cate.

I had a fairly normal childhood. My father, Tom Rocklin, got work in the construction industry. My mother worked in various clerical positions. Of the three siblings, I was the only one who paid much attention in school. I went to college on a merit scholarship, getting a bachelor degree in world literature and a masters degree in journalism. I took French as my foreign language and took the usual liberal arts classes, including gender studies and other fashionable courses of the period. I was interested in the excerpts of Simone de Beauvoir's Second Sex I was assigned, but somewhat surprised by some of her views in The Mandarins and shocked to learned that she had practically acted as a procurer of young women to sleep with Jean Paul Sarte.

My sister did not concern herself with any such things. She took odd jobs, including being a receptionist, waitressing in a fancy bar, modeling, and working as a stripper in a few of the so called gentlemen's clubs in Clearwater. My brother, Charles, liked video games and dope and got odd jobs after he dropped out of college.

After my father died suddenly of pancreatic cancer when I was 25, things became strained in the family. I probably never really knew dad or about his relationship with mom. Then in her late 40s, mom returned to the overt wildness of her youth and had a variety of boyfriends of dubious tastes. I could hardly think of her as my mother anymore and started calling her just Gloria.

Gloria did not only have male friends. A women Gloria called "Mrs. Smith," attractive and maybe a few years older than me, seemed to have some money. At least she drove a Mercedes and was always decked out in diamonds that looked real. I barely met her except that she occasionally dropped Gloria off at my apartment after some event that seems to have involved Gloria in a lot of physical activity and disordered clothing. It generally took a while to reassemble mother before whatever activity she and I were to do together.

Another attractive woman maybe 25, Megan, could be seen hanging around Gloria's house in various states of undress or in local bars with some much older man feeling her up. In earlier times she might have been labeled "cheap."

One of Gloria's boyfriends, Ted, within hearing range of Gloria, actually asked me if I'd "like to fuck" while I was carrying groceries into my mom's house for a family event. I looked at mom who only said, "Boys will be boys," as Ted grabbed my breasts. I almost dropped the groceries while Gloria told Ted he could fuck me as long as he saved enough loving for her. My sister who saw the whole thing laughed her head off. Charles said that he could hardly blame Ted as I had such great boobs, hips and legs and that he'd fuck me if I weren't his sister. "Under your big glasses and baggy clothing, you are obviously one super hot blonde bitch, sis." I did not appreciate this brotherly assessment.

Things with Gloria got still more strange. She invited me over one Saturday afternoon. When I rang the bell, she said through the intercom that I should just walk in and come down into the basement. I'd not been in the basement for years.

When I got down there, Gloria was dressed in tight leather pants with nothing above the waist. She had a little whip with some sort of black pad at the end in her hand. She looked both incredibly good for a woman over 50 and incredibly obscene. Megan was there, dressed and undressed about like Gloria. But even more shocking, there was Mrs. Smith naked with her legs spread by a bar on the floor and her arms chained to a pipe that ran across the ceiling. She had pink lines showing over much of her body, and pierced nipples on nice breasts. I'd never even seen pierced nipples before and wondered how that felt.

Gloria said, "Mrs. Smith often comes to play with me. Generally, I'm the one all tied up and Mrs. Smith and her friends do terrible things to my body. Today Mrs. Smith, Megan and I played a little game and Mrs. Smith lost." While she began to work her fingers into Mrs. Smith's vagina, she added, "Why don't you whip, her and work this dildo up her butt."

"Gloria," I almost screamed, "what are you doing and what are you asking me to do? I thought dominattrickes or whatever you call them just engaged in role play and sexual contact was out of bounds."

"Judy, I don't care what professional BDSM artists do. For me and my friends, the game definitely involves sex, lots and lots of sex with lots and lots of orgasms. Don't you think Mrs. Smith is a magnificent specimen?" Gloria moved slowly her whole fist into Mrs. Smith and worked inside and outside of her until Mrs. Smith came with a scream from Gloria's attentions. I declined an invitation to be chained to the pipe myself. Instead, I went home somewhat surprised that I had been turned on by the strange experience.

It got still more bizarre when Ted called a few weeks later. Ted asked me to go quickly to my mom's house and let her go. "WTF?" I said, to which Ted replied that his car had broken down, that he'd rather not explain but I really should see my mom.

When I arrived at Gloria's house, no one answered. I let myself in using the key hidden behind the mailbox. Inside, I heard loud moaning and panting. After running downstairs, I found Gloria tied spread eagle on a worktable with a running vibrator against her vulva, a dildo running low on battery power in her vagina and a plastic thing up her anus. The first thing she said after I pulled out the devices was, "Where the fuck is Ted?" I replied that Ted had car problems and asked, "What were you doing?"

After getting down from the table and walking around a little, Gloria explained that Ted and two of his pals had sex with her that morning and thought it would be fun to leave her that way. "The guys said that they were out of jam but seeing as I was insatiable, they would leave me with some toys while they went bowling. I've definitely been fucked enough now to last me a few days."

I wasn't sure if I was amused, stimulated or totally grossed out by my mother's friends and activities. I am not a prude. By then I had had sex with a series of boyfriends who never quite worked out. I enjoyed the vanilla sex in moderation but was careful not to do anything that would get in the way of my career. At age 30 I was still unattached with nothing on the horizon.

Like me, my sister stayed unattached, really unattached. Cate enjoyed being a party girl and moving from man to man. As with Mom, Cate had a number of boyfriends that I thought were way too forward, but she moved through boyfriends so quickly that I never really understood where one relationship ended and another started. One or two of them actually tried to contact me after Cate had moved on. One of them offered me $500 just to show him my breasts. I was not interested particularly as I knew it would lead to other things. Cate was also into drugs. I never knew which drugs.

The year before I hit the big three-zero, my sister started to tease me about not being as loose as her as though that was something of which I should be ashamed. Once my sister called and asked me to drop by her new apartment right away. When I got to the door, Cate asked me to come on into the living room where I was greeted by my sister and three large athletic men, all shamelessly nude with my sister practically dripping fluids from lovemaking. They all laughed and one of the men suggested that I strip and join the party. I was completely embarrassed as I'm sure Cate expected me to be. As one of the three guys lit a water pipe and another developed a huge erection, I said something like "thanks, but no thanks" and started to ease out of the apartment.

Cate said, "You know, Sis, you aren't getting any younger. For all your schooling, your career isn't going well. You might as well have some fun." My response was to run back to my car, go to my office and work on an article on the caves of Croatia that Tony had visited with Julie (more about Tony and Julie later) with me writing the story based on their notes as though I'd been there.

When I hit 30, my mom started to give hints to me and Cate that we should make her some grandchildren. I did not appreciate the pressure. In fact, I thought it was silly given that she was not much over 50, anything but grandmotherly, and could wait. "Are you going to take care of your grandchildren between bondage sessions with your friends?" I asked. Gloria answered, "Why not?"

I worked for the Big World Adventurers Corporation that arranged travel, ran hotels and had a number of other enterprises all over the world. I wrote articles for their glossy magazine on glamorous foreign places I'd generally never seen. I was paid well but my work environment was not perfect. My boss, John Dalman, who edited the magazine, made suggestive remarks to me and had a hard time keeping his eyes above my neck. I did not allow him to touch me even after he broadly hinted that I would never get far if I did not go to bed with him.

An older guy, late 60s, from Europe somewhere, Bressac Gorrig, commonly called "Bry", hit on me frequently when he was not doing his job as Vice President of Operations. He often accidently brushed against my breasts and butt. Worst was when he openly shared his philosophy on sex with me while getting my computer to work and backing up files. "Miss Rocklin, I don't know why you are trying to be a hot shit writer when you are obviously more qualified to be a hot shit sex object. Kaiser Wilhelm was close when he said the role for women was Kinder, Kueche, Kirche, (children, kitchen and the church) except I'd be a bit more clear. I'd say that women have no business doing anything except fucking, having babies, childcare, homemaking and practicing old time religion, the kind of religion that doesn't require or allow for any thinking. It's okay for women to specialize, though. For the next ten or twenty years, you can focus on the fucking and making babies part and leave the rest to the older and less attractive. Women as attractive as you should be obedient, obscene and not heard, in fact, women even close to as attractive as you should be that way." Most of this speech was addressed to my breasts.

I complained about Gorrig to Dalman who replied that he knew that Gorrig had views that he should not bandy about but the corporation would collapse without him. "Also, he is way above me in the organization. As head of Operations he is far more important in terms of seniority, pay and contacts. Further, he is a rather rich man and his wife is a daughter of the founder of the company."

"Why does such an important guy waste his time helping a lowly writer with her computer connections?" I asked. Dalman made a point of obviously looking up and down my body and answered, "Come on Judy, you're not a child. What do you think?"

"Ok, so he's important, we could still report him."

"The few people in the corporation who would be in a position to think of disciplining Gorrig are fully aware of his views, tastes and habits and do not care," Dalman said. "Also, he never mouths off in front of anyone who matters."

I drew the obvious conclusion that no self-respecting woman would work where I was working, but I did not look for another job.

I worked on a number of stories with photographer Tony Monk. We travelled to a few nearby tourist places together. Tony was not shy and made clear that I should sleep with him when we were on the road even though he was supposedly happily married. "My wife knows I screw on the side and doesn't care," he said. "Let me assure you, she's getting plenty of action from me and others."

My best friend was my co-worker Julie, my age, similar curvy figure, and height (175), but with hair dyed black. She wrote on restaurants around the world. She was somewhat less scrupulous than me about sleeping with co-workers and got assignments to travel with Dalman and Tony Monk to a lot of wonderful places. She did not think sleeping with them was a high price to pay for luxurious foreign travel and big end-of-the-year bonuses. "Not to be vain, but let's face it, I'm a better than average writer but I have a much much better than average body. You have the same skill set, Judy, but don't use your best assets effectively."

Naturally, Julie was a great cook. I enjoyed having dinner at her house often. I was kind of surprised, though, when one time on the way to use her toilet I saw on her bed a bunch of leather corsets, handcuffs, little whips, two big dildos and five pictures of a pale, raven-haired woman with her face shaded. The woman sure looked like Julie. On one picture, the woman was bent over and tied to a little padded bench with penises in her mouth, vagina and anus. Another picture that I was sure was Julie, showed a busty woman, wearing nothing but a corset, tied to a pole with a gag in her mouth. Most disturbing were pictures of a woman, nude, on her knees, her arms behind her back, her full breasts hanging freely, wearing some sort of slave collar with a caption on the photo saying "Your most obedient slave, Sirs" and a picture of a naked woman in cage with "Slave Bitch" written across her belly.

When Julie saw me come back from the bathroom with shock on my face, she said smiling, "Oh damn, I forgot to put away some things I got out this morning. We can discuss my tastes and hobbies if you want and you could even try some of the things on." Although I was curious and bothered, I just responded, "Let's have a nice dinner tonight and maybe talk more about what you do some other time. I have one question, though. I thought BDSM was all about harmlessly acting out fantasies and that the sub actually controls the relationship. A few things I saw on your bed make it seem like the sub is reduced to property and becomes just a toy or slave."

"What you thought of as BDSM may be what it is about for most people, that is healthy fun and fantasy within a loving relationship," Julie answered. "Some of us have much sicker desires. If you ever read anything by the Marquise de Sade, you know that he did not care about what his victims felt. The beasts in charge enjoyed every bit of the women's pain and some of the women are even killed. Justine is used by every man she meets and none of them care what she wants. The victims are tortured while the villains explain that, with God dead and morality a myth, they can do whatever pleases them. They have very extreme tastes. O, of the Story of O, is not controlling any relationship and some versions of the book end with her committing suicide."

I replied, "You fantasize about being a victim like that? Sick but I guess it is not too bad to have sick fantasies as long as you never put yourself at risk of getting hurt or loosing control of your life"

"Sometimes, I do that, take that risk." Julie answered. "I don't feel losing control is such a bad thing. Maybe I don't want control over anything."

The bouillabaisse Julie made for dinner was just superb.

Meanwhile, since the 90s, Taritarat had practically fallen off the earth. The civil wars went on for at least a decade. It was not known outside if and when the wars finally ended because the country sealed itself off from the world. The rumor was that Taritarat was run by a tri-partite committee that no one on the outside understood. Normal travel to Taritarat was banned in 2000 with an announcement that Taritarat did not want it's religious principles compromised by contact with degenerate societies. The simple two page website maintained by Taritarat stated that Taritarat only allowed individuals to travel into the country who had important business or close relatives there and visitors had to be accompanied at all times that they were outside their lodgings.

Strangely, though, at the same time that the country seemed to be run by puritanical religious figures, there were contrary rumors I heard from Tony. Tony said he'd heard somebody in a bar in Dublin who had talked to somebody in a bar in Zagreb that both Glaessov and Lbirne were open for business for men with money and a desire for unrestricted sex tourism.

to be continued