The Slaving World Pt. 01

Amanda leaned forward, her light blue eyes boring into him. Hunter recognized this as one of her attempts to be persuasive. He had seen it work on submissives on a regular basis; it made it easier to get them to sign over their lives. Roy had done a few experiments with her and had found that while she could be very persuasive on those she deemed as potential slaves, there was no effect on others. Roy simply chalked it up to her abilities as a roper.

"The problem, Master," Amanda said and Hunter tried to hide his smile, "is that there are too many potential slaves."

"How is that a problem?"

"You know as well as I do, Master, that not every potential slave would actually make a good slave. Just because the woman is wired in such a way that she would be best served tied up, branded and gangbanged; does not mean that it would work in reality. In most cases it doesn't work because she has too much of a life: husband, kids, career; she would be too missed if she suddenly disappeared."

"And that is the problem here?"

"No, the problem here is skank and desperation, Master," she said with a look of distaste. "Too many needle tracks or deep, horrible psychological scars. There are a decent amount who would fit the ideal profile, but it is hard to separate them from the bad ones, Master. Too much noise, not enough signal."

"I assume you already have a plan?"

"Yes, Master."

Roy watched the interplay of slave and owner with amusement. He thought Hunter was too lenient with Amanda, but also knew that her spirit was one of the things that made her valuable as a roper. She needed to keep some of her willfulness and joie de vivre to be attractive to the women she enslaved. They could see her joy and love of life and were drawn to that as much as they were to her other unusual talents; her happiness gave them something that they believed they could attain. Roy had to admit that the women Amanda found did tend to be happy as slaves. He also knew that Amanda hated being whipped and while she would push things with Hunter, she would almost always back off when he gave her the subtle warning signs that she was going too far.

Roy missed his slave Elaine, though he knew she was no longer his. Sometime Amanda was a painful reminder of what he had lost. He quickly buried that thought and turned his attention back to the business at hand.

"A road trip?" Hunter asked his slave. "That is your idea?"

"Yes, Master," she said. "Give me a car, some cash and a free rein and I'll find a few slaves for you."

Both of the men could see the unencumbered enthusiasm in her eyes. This was her idea and she was convinced that this was the only thing that would work for her right now. They could fight it and whip her into submission to do what they wanted, but it worked best when she was happy.

Hunter and Roy looked at each other.

"What is this going to cost?"

"Well, Master," Amanda said and pulled out a sheet of paper. Roy sighed and opened a new document on one of the many laptops or tablets that were scattered about the house. It might have been easier just to take the paper with her notes on it, but Amanda's handwriting was so bad as to be an indecipherable code.

"A car. Preferably an import SUV, nice but not new," Amanda said and rushed on with clothes, cash and the basic slave restraining kit along with a few other odds and ends that seemed to be more for her amusement than any business purpose. A quick calculation told Roy that this would cost them at least $25,000.

"Well, at least we'll have the car afterwards so that is not a total waste," Roy said.

"And there is travel expenses for you, sir," Amanda said and looked at Roy. "I can hook them, but you'll need to come and reel them in."

"Why him?" Hunter asked.

"Two reasons, Master," Amanda said. "First of all, you tend to be busy and disappear on a moment's notice. Roy's duties are more home based. And he's younger and a little less likely to arouse instant suspicion. Roy could pass as my boyfriend, friend, brother, whatever I need him to be. He's also great at the initial rape that usually makes these things work."

Hunter was about to object when his phone rang.

"See what I mean, Master?"

Hunter checked the number on his phone and stepped out onto the deck to take it.

Roy was already searching online for vehicles that matched Amanda's description and sent off a message to Greg requesting that line of credit that they would need for this.

Hunter came back in with a scowl on his face.

"Business calls. Boris Seredin jumped bail before they could pin a more serious charges on him. I need to find him before he skips the country. I'll be heading to see the Marshalls then get after him. Roy, can you take care of getting Amanda set up?"

"Of course. You need anything from me?"

Hunter frowned. "Not yet. But I know that Seredin was tied into The Studio and he may be able to lead us to others. Keep your phone handy in case I need you to do some digging."

"Will do. Be safe."

Hunter smiled then kissed Amanda before leaving.

-----

Jake at The Farm

The plane was landing. It was afternoon and the representatives from the Darko and Isstvan Radek were here to buy another shipment of the "finest cannabis grown in British Columbia." Jake liked to think of himself primarily as an artisan, the creation of something beautiful as the greatest reward from his work. But he liked the big stacks of cash it brought him, too.

The plane taxied to the end and shut down the engines. The door opened and the crew of the plane climbed out. Jake recognized Monty, the man who handled the handoff here. The two others were the usual flunky loaders. There was one other Jake did not know, a short, balding and pudgy man with shifty eyes who looked around nervously. Jake caught the eye of Brazzy, his security head and the big, black man acknowledged. They would have to find out about him.

Jake was not that tall, about 5'6". It never bothered him. Frankly, he never saw the appeal in being tall, it just seemed that it made you a bigger target. From a farming and ranching perspective, being closer to the ground had its advantages. He was powerful, he had had to wrestle more than a few steers down and farm work in general required a lot of strength. He was good looking, too. He had piercing blue eyes, short blonde hair and a full, bushy, blonde beard. At 35 years old, Jake considered himself a success. His farm was wonderful, a chance to be creative and make lots of money doing what he loved. A beautiful, if problematic, wife and access to all the slave action he could want made things even better. He was proud of what he had built here and would kill anyone who threatened it.

Monty, on the other hand, was a slimy piece of shit. Jake loathed the sight of him, but he was part of the business. The Radeks did not do too much of their own grunt work anymore. As long as everything went smooth, they stayed out of the picture. Jake dreaded visits from either Darko or Isstvan, it usually meant something bad. He was not really fond of anyone in the Radeks' organization, but he had to deal with them. Or at least he had to deal with them until a better opportunity came along.

"Jakey, old boy," Monty said offering a clammy hand to shake. "How's the cowshit business?"

Jake ignored him.

"Who's the new guy?" Jake said and got straight to the point.

"A favor you are going to perform for us," Monty said and put his hand down. "But first, let's get the usual business out of the way first." Even the way he spoke annoyed Jake and he hated the idea of what the favor was going to be. "I, we, know it's the same quality shit as ever."

Jake did not bother to respond. Of course it was.

"Right?" Monty pressed for confirmation.

"Yes," Jake said with as much annoyance as he could get into one syllable.

"Good, good." Monty passed him a thick envelope.

Just to annoy Monty, Jake opened it and started to count. If that piece of shit was going to question his quality, he was going to question the count.

"Now, about this favor," Monty started, but Jake held up a hand until he was finished counting.

After he had counted it, Jake let Monty finish.

"That's Boris," he said and pointed at the fat guy. "Boris needs to get as far away from the States as he can. We've got a boat that is going to meet him in that water thing, whaddya call it?"

"Inlet."

"Yeah, the inlet, tomorrow morning. We need you to get him to the boat."

"That's not my usual line of work, Monty."

"I know, farmer Jake. But Darko wants this done and he figures you got the best place to do it."

"Monty," Jake started to protest, but the annoying man cut him short.

"Darko wants this done," he said with more than a little hint of threat in his voice. "And I don't need to tell you what happens when Darko doesn't get what he wants."

Jake scowled. He really hated working with the Radeks, but he didn't have many options for the moment.

"And here," Monty gave him a small stack of hundreds. "Just so you know it's appreciated."

"Fine. What time?"

"Morning."

"Light morning? Dark morning? Late morning?"

"Darko said morning."

Jake realized that he would not get anything more out of Monty so he turned his back to him and addressed Brazzy.

"Put him in the guest cabin, lock him in. I don't want him anywhere but there. Have Gene take him down to the mouth of the inlet. Leave as soon as the moon's up."

"Got it," Brazzy said and started walking to Boris.

"I knew I could count on you," Monty said.

Jake could tell Monty was waiting to be offered a drink or some hospitality while the plane was loaded. But this would not take long and Jake wanted to be rude.

"Looks like you're loaded," Jake said as they tossed the last of the bags into the plane. "See you next time."

Jake walked away and back towards the house. He hated doing errands for Darko. Who knew what Boris did or who would be looking for him? Jake got the feeling that this was going to mean more company.

-----

Hunter in Las Vegas

Hunter was officially a bounty hunter who tracked down bail jumpers. Realistically, it was a hobby that he used to keep his, and his team's, skills sharp and get a little money. It was useful when he needed to find someone and he needed to find Boris Seredin.

Hunter had a complex relationship with slaves. He enjoyed rules and order and he certainly enjoyed the pleasure that the bodies and minds of slaves offered him. Another of his hobbies, one that paid slightly better than tracking down bail-jumpers, was tracking down escaped slaves. He loved the hunt and he enjoyed the capture and the benefits of capturing the slaves. He viewed slaves with affection. Those women made the decision to surrender themselves, to allow their bodies to be used for the pleasure of others. But, in return for that surrender, those who owned them had the responsibility to care for and protect the women. Hunter took that responsibility very seriously and did not like it when it was abused.

Some preyed on the bond of surrender and responsibility. They fully took the surrender without caring for the safety and wellbeing of the women. Hunter took that personally and made it his mission to find those kind of people and eliminate them. He had a pretty impressive track record, but would not be satisfied until they were all dead. He and Roy had a brief shooting war with a rancher and semi-feudal baron named Mark who had sold slaves off the books. Some of the slaves wound up being tortured and murdered in snuff films. Hunter had personally shot Mark dead then worked with Mark's former right hand man Sam to destroy The Studio where those films were made. They had been destroying the networks of those men, but some were left.

The Radek brothers, Isstvan and Darko, were another part of it. They had started just working as couriers and middle men between Mark and his customers in Canada. They had the contacts and were the muscle for hire. Mark would give them slaves, they would give him cash or marijuana or guns, whatever he wanted. Sometimes Mark would buy, but he usually dealt in human flesh. With the vacuum created by Mark's death, the Radeks stepped in and took on the role of slave dealer. Hunter did not mind slave dealers, he was a slave dealer himself, but they operated outside of the rules of the Association. When Hunter sold a slave to an Association member, he knew she would be safe. She would still be a sex slave, but there were rules on treatment and conduct that were respected. The Radeks' operation sent the slaves outside of the protection of the Association. Those slaves could not be tracked, and at least a handful wound up being tortured and murdered in snuff films at The Studio.

Boris Seredin was part of the whole thing, but a minor part. He was a runner and occasional leg-breaker for the bigger fish. Hunter was not sure what Seredin knew but he wanted to find out. Seredin made bail and before Hunter could grab him and the Russian disappeared. Once upon a time, Hunter would have hurt people until he got the information he wanted. He was getting too old for that and tended to get better results without causing pain. He still would when it was necessary, but fifty bucks tended to be easier than a punch and might get better results in the long run. A few days of watching dives and paying bribes yielded the information that Seredin had boarded a small private plane. Some more digging, a few favors called in and some cash passed out gave him the ID of the plane, but nothing else.

For old school gumshoes, that would have been the end of the line. But Hunter believed in living and working in the modern world. While he was not good at technology, his friend and business partner Roy was. Roy had access to all sorts of databases and information that Hunter could not imagine. The 21st century world was a connected world and every bit of that connection, from cell phones to transponders, left a trail. It might be faint, but with the right resources, skills, and patience, the trail could be found. Roy had all of those.

The plane landed somewhere on the coast of British Columbia. It did not take too long to figure out where.

"It's The Farm," Roy explained. "The co-ordinates are solid."

"The Farm," Hunter mused. "Capital T, capital F?"

"Yup," Roy answered.

"Why does every place we have to visit in Canada have proper nouns?"

"Well," Roy answered, "from our perspective, there was only one studio we cared about and only one farm."

Hunter snorted. "Okay, fill me in on background," he said. "I met Jake in Las Vegas a few years ago. What kind of operation does he have and why haven't we gone after him yet?"

"He's kind of gray," Roy said. "He does stuff that is not legit by the Association. He buys slaves off the books, he grows marijuana so the Association won't give him an export license to buy slaves. But he gets them anyway."

"And this isn't a problem?"

"Not really. Every slave he's bought, whether from Sam or the Radeks winds up back in the States. He even files paperwork on the ones he buys from the Radeks. The slaves wind up okay, so the parsimonious Association has chosen to spend its resources elsewhere."

Hunter thought about this.

"We can track every slave?"

"Let's be honest, Hunter, we can track everyone we know about. There are those who simply disappear. Not as many as before we took care of Mark, but there still are some. Based on what we know, every slave that winds up at The Farm is accounted for."

Hunter thought for a minute more.

"I want to go pay them a visit," he said.

"Fine. What kind of hardware should I bring?" Roy asked.

"No. Not you, just me."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"I'll report daily," Hunter said seriously. "If I don't, burn the place to the ground. But I met Jake. He's an artist. He loves to create things and what he creates is artisanal food and marijuana. Somehow, slaves figure into this. I'm guessing that he does business with the Radeks, but I think if we give him an alternative he might take it."

"That's a lot of 'thinks' and 'guesses'," Roy said skeptically.

"And a 'might', too. Roy, I'm playing my gut. I think the Radeks are going to be a long term project. They keep a low profile and that makes them hard to get. We might need to win some small battles and more allies before we win the war."

"This is because of your father's vineyard, isn't it?"

"Maybe. I trust the type," Hunter said and smiled. The he turned serious. "But, keep the team at hand and be ready to come get me if I don't report in."

"Trust, but verify, eh?"

"You got it."

-----

Lida and Jake at The Farm

Jake sat in his office and looked at the message again. This could either be really good or really bad. Hunter was coming. The note had been brief, "Coming to talk" and signed Hunter. That could mean a lot of things. Jake was aware that most of Hunter's trips to Canada resulted in multiple fatalities and he had no desire for that.

But there was opportunity here, too. Jake considered himself one of the good guys and hated working with the bad guys. But the bad guys paid the bills and Jake needed, and wanted, cash. If he could get on Hunter's good side, get Hunter to help him, well, things could get really good.

He looked out the window. It was turning into a lovely British Columbia May morning. Rain was going to roll in from the nearby coast later, there was already a salt tang to the wind, but for now it was sunny. Everything was green, especially the plants in the greenhouses, everything was alive. He hoped the same could be said after Hunter left.

Jake's farm had a sluggish creek that ran through it and down to the inlet which led to the ocean. A launch was tied up at his dock, a couple of his men were unloading feed for the cattle. There was no road access to Jake's farm, it was in an isolated valley on a big island near the coast. All his commerce was by boat (he did have a road that ran to the big docks on the inlet) or by plane. He liked it that way. As far as he could tell, there were only a few other people living on this island and, by mutual agreement, everyone kept to themselves. Two men with assault rifles on their backs herded a couple of calves onto the boat when the feed was unloaded. Jake was trading them to a farm on another island for some diesel.

Hunter was coming to talk. There were possibilities there. It really depended on whether he came in guns blazing. He was going to have to talk to his security chief. He started to rise to go find Brazzy.

"Was she good?" his wife burst in and demanded.

Jake sat back down. These mornings never went well. Lida was back in one of her bitchy moods. This could work in his favor, though. She was bitchy when she was sexually frustrated and that meant she would be more pliable to what he had in mind.

"I heard you fucked the new slave last night," she accused. "Was that why you sent me to town?"

Now Jake realized why he had not seen her unloading the boat. She had been checking up on him.

"You've got me, but you can't keep your hands off of, and your dick out of, the slaves. Can you?"

Jake said nothing. Hoping that once she vented a little, she would calm down. Besides, she was right, he had fucked the new slave girl last night. He'd fucked her all night and every way he could. And she had been great: pretty and nicely responsive.

"Is that why you excused her from work this morning?" Now she was getting to another point of her anger. "Don't you know we've got a shipment to send out tomorrow? How are we going to make it?"

"You wanna be a slave girl so much, why don't you take her shift?" Jake snorted with contempt. He was not happy with the marriage, either. He was not sure what he wanted, but he had enough slaves, he wanted something different from his wife.