Cinderella and the Slave Girls (mostly M/F)

[goodgulf]

Cinderella and the Slave Girls

I enter the funeral parlour, hoping that I was projecting the right impression. I was wearing a dark suit (which was good) but there was that shoulder bag I was wearing which didn't fit the decor. That, more than anything else, marked me as practitioner. Magic might not be as well respected as it had once been, but everyone more or less accepted the bag. They thought it had the reagents I needed, and it did, but those weren't the only things it carried. In theory I might someday become powerful enough to eschew the use of reagents entirely, but if that were to happen I'd still carry the bag, the "reagents" acting as camouflage for what I really needed to carry.

I made my way to the coffin and looked in on the late Professor Henry Batesmen. The man had been an academic, devoting his life to magical research. He looked the way I'd expected: surprised.

Magical research is a chancy business, one that's unforgiving. Someone in the purchasing department at the university had substituted regular wool for the virgin wool that had been ordered, saving a few cents. The first clue that anything was wrong had come when three researchers (including the late Henry Batesmen) had been freeze-dried. When something like that happens the authorities take notice and toss mystic resources at the problem. It had been only two days since the accident and they had already uncovered the cause and the culprit. The only real mystery was if the guy would go to prison for "causing death by callous action or inaction" or if he would be enslaved for his crime. A prison sentence might be hell, but at least it would end some day; not so slavery.

The speed of the investigation was both reassuring and unnerving. It was reassuring that the authorities still cared about magical researchers to pour on the resources but unnerving how thorough they were when it mattered to them. I once again resolved to never invoke their ire (which is harder than you might think) and made my way from the coffin.

I wasn't here for the late Professor Henry Batesmen. I had met him but I couldn't say I really knew him. No I was here to check on my cousin, otherwise known as the late professor's daughter. If the man had died a few weeks later then it wouldn't have been such a big deal that someone check on her, but he hadn't so it was.

Someone pointed her out to me, but once I saw her I knew her. It wasn't just the family resemblance. No, it was the echo of the half-remembered little girl in her face. Rosy cheeks, red hair, and a puzzled expression, just like the one she had worn when that balloon had popped and she had wondered where it went. Then again, I might not have recognised her without someone pointing her out; little Cousin Cindy had grown up to be a stunning young woman.

"Cindy?" I said gently, trying to break through her puzzlement. "Hi. You might not remember me, but I'm your Cousin Dave."

"Who?" Cindy asked.

"Dave. David Greener? We haven't seen each other for years." I pointed out. "I'm on your mother's side of the family."

"Oh. Um, I haven't seen much of them since..." Cindy choked up at that point.

I nodded. There was no need to mention her mother's death. It had been years ago and hopefully she was over it, but it had to be on her mind, what with her father dying and all.

"It has been a while. Is there someplace we can talk?" I asked.

"Um, well..."

"I think the funeral parlour has some rooms we can use." I prompted. "Just for a quick talk."

I knew they did. I had been in enough of these places (usually on business) to know how they were laid out. I gently guided Cindy to where we could talk without fear of being overheard. Someone on the staff noticed me guiding her and just nodded, thinking wrongly that I was here on business.

I didn't bother disillusioning him.

It was a small room, soundproof with an exterior door discreetly placed on one wall. There was a bench, but otherwise no clue to its function.

"Um, I'm sorry, but who did you say you were?" Cindy asked, oblivious to her surroundings.

"David Greener." I answered. "But I went by Dave the last time we met. I'm a cousin on your mother's side."

"And how are we related?"

"By blood." I answered, getting out the important fact. I might not have seen her for years but Cindy was blood to me and that's all there was too it. "Oh, you mean the relationship?"

"I don't remember being related to any Greeners." Cindy said.

"The names are a bit confusing, since it the relation is maternal. Look, your mother was Stacy Hopper before she married and my mother's maiden name was Alice Ferris. If you've ever heard of Linda Havens, that's your great-grandmother. Mine too, but she was Hudson for my side of things."

"Huh?"

"Same great-grandmother, different great-grandfathers." I clarified.

"So that makes us what?" Cindy asked.

"We're second cousins. Well, maybe second half-cousins. Something like that. But we're still blood and that's what matters." I answered.

"Oh. Um, when did we meet?"

"I think the last time was when you were ten." I supplied. "Or maybe at your mother's funeral, but you were out of it then. Back in those days I was trying to grow a beard and carried a pipe around everywhere to look like I knew what I was doing when it came to magic."

"I think I remember you." Cindy said with a nod. "You used to blow different coloured smoke rings? I think that for one summer I thought you were the coolest person in the world."

"Nice to see I was able to impress at least one girl with that pipe." I chuckled.

"And the reason you're here is?" Cindy asked.

"Partly to pay my respects to your father. He was great man." I didn't think I was lying, not really. He wasn't famous or anything, but he had been respected in some circles. "But mostly for you. If you need anything, anything at all, from the name of a good estate lawyer to a shoulder to cry on ...."

I didn't get past the word cry when the waterworks started. Maybe I was the first to offer a shoulder and she needed one. I had a handkerchief out and between her face and my shoulder before she rammed herself against me. Yes, I always carry handkerchiefs, but not always for tears.

Cindy needed a good cry so I let her sob. She didn't notice when I replaced the tear (and phlegm) soaked handkerchief with a clean one, not that I needed to do it for my suit. My clothes have spells on them that render them proof verses most bodily fluids but I thought she might appreciate having something dry against her face.

I hate to admit it, but I find saying "there, there let it all out" and patting a girl's back to be very boring so I expanded my mystical senses as my cousin sobbed her heart out. As I said, I know my way around a funeral parlour and I know how people act in them. They gather in little knots, mostly unsure of how to handle themselves but looking to friends and colleagues for support. If Cindy was out there then there would have been a knot of people surrounding her and looking for the right thing to say. Since she wasn't there were knots of Henry's co-workers, knots of his friends, and a surprisingly jovial knot that had drifted into the next room.

"I'll miss him, but he was a dear to the end." A woman was saying. "He even freeze-dried himself, saving the cost of embalming."

"I'm sure dear old step-dad didn't plan it out that way." Said a younger woman, one with a striking resemblance to the first.

Their blonde heads were the same shade, meaning they were mother and daughter or bought the same brand of hair colour. From their eyes and the slant of their jaws I'd call them relatives. There was raven-haired girl with them who had the same look. I'd heard that Cindy had a stepmother and a pair of stepsisters but I had never met them. I didn't even know their names, but this had to be them. A knot of people, their friends, not the deceased's, and were with trio to give them comfort.

Gallows humour always cropped at these things, but sometimes it wasn't just humour.

"So where is Cinderella anyway?" The raven-haired beauty asked.

"Oh, probably off with her head in a book." The stepmother said. "You know her."

"Cinderella?" Asked one of the knot.

"That's our pet name for Cindy. That and Cinders" The stepmother revealed. "Red hair and rosy-cheeked, practically the same shade as a red hot cinder."

"And her butt should be the same shade." The blonde sister joked.

The joke seemed to horrify the questioner, whose eyes darted around to see if anyone was laughing.

"Of course it isn't." The stepmother said hurried. "Henry was firm on that issue. I thought that the girl could do with a little discipline in her life but Henry said she was too old for it. Imagine, for years I've had a red headed stepchild, a literal red headed stepchild, and never beat her even once."

"I wonder what's she's planning to do now?" The raven-haired girl asked. "Now that her dad's gone."

"I think that's a topic for another time." The stepmother said, her tone full of significance. "Let's get Henry into the ground before we worry about that."

Damn. That didn't sound good. They were burying Henry tomorrow which might mean I would have to work quickly. Or it might mean I didn't have to do anything. I hoped the latter was the case but after hearing that comment I didn't think it likely.

Which meant that I needed information. Which meant that I had to talk to Cindy.

Have you ever tried to question a girl who's sobbing? Not just a tear or two falling but one who's wailing away? I have, and it's hard. It's even harder when you're letting the girl cry herself out as opposed to actually interrogating her. Much harder.

Cindy cried for over an hour (closer to two hours than one) before she was done. She started to apologise for the state of my suit but I just waved her concern away and reached into my shoulder bag.

"I came prepared." I said with a smile as I removed a couple of reagents.

A little magic later and my suit was clean again, as were my handkerchiefs. Actually, thanks to the spells already on them my clothes didn't need much cleaning; most of the magic I did there was a subtle thing to get Cindy to open up and trust me. It was spell that I was used to casting but not normally on relatives.

"Magic runs on your side of the family too." Cindy noted.

"Pretty much." I nodded. "It's one of the things your father had in common with your mother."

"My real mother." Cindy said wishfully. "Sometimes I have problems remembering the real her. The difference between what was real and what I wanted to be real."

"I didn't know her that well." I admitted. "But from the few times I met her she seemed like a very nice person."

"She was." Cindy agreed. "Much better than her replacement."

Then Cindy stopped herself.

"That's not fair. She's never ever tried to replace my real mom. She wasn't even a fan of magic. I mean she used some of the devices that were around the house, but that was it. You know what I mean?"

I nodded because I did. Magic hasn't been fashionable for years. Technology was making a steady progression while magic was lagging behind. There were still some things that magic did better but there were fewer of those things every year. We really needed a major breakthrough that would put magic back on top again, at least in the eyes of the populace.

"There are a lot of people who don't think much of magic." I agreed.

"In a way it was good." Cindy continued, barely hearing me. "Magic was the one thing that dad and I had in common. When he got home he'd help me with my homework and I asked him about the stuff I read in books. Because of him I aced every advanced magic course the school offered."

I nodded, reading between the lines. It was an old story; an overachieving daughter trying to impress the most important man in her life and her dad barely noticing. She was probably at the very top of her class in any subject that might even vaguely impress him.

"She didn't think I should spend so much studying, but she didn't care enough to make an issue of it." Cindy continued. "Maybe she knew she wouldn't win and didn't want to lose another battle."

"Another battle?" I prompted.

"She really only lost one." Cindy told me." Christell's daughters are older so dad always thought she knew what she was talking about when it came to kid so agreed with almost everything she said. The only time he said no was right after they were married and Christell wanted to start spanking me."

I nodded, linking a name to the face.

"But dad said I was too old and that my mom had always been dead set against spanking and he told her no."

I nodded again. From what little I remembered about her, Stacy Hopper Batesmen had been completely against anything like that. Which was one of the reasons she spent so little time around her family. I could even vaguely remember someone saying that little Cindy might need seeing to and her mother hitting the roof. If I was recalling correctly that might have been the last time I saw the Batesmens, at least the last time before Stacy Hopper Batesmen's funeral.

In some ways I envied Cindy her mother.

"But that didn't mean that was the end of it." Cindy said bitterly, revisiting past horrors. I felt a bit bad about it; she might not be in that mental space if I hadn't enspelled her, but not that bad. I needed this information so I let Cindy go on and on. "One of my new sisters, Claudette, started to spank me when she felt like it. Not too hard or too often, no, because she wanted to claim that it was all just a game, but it hurt. And before I could tell my dad Christell told him something about it being a game that I had lost so he wouldn't listen to me."

I pictured how old Cindy would have been when her father remarried and mentally agreed that she was too old to start spanking, either for real or part of an innocent game.

"Did you try to tell anyone else?" I probed, looking for details that would help me.

"I told my friend Kim, Kim Edwards about it." Cindy revealed. "She insisted on seeing the proof, and the day after I showed her she suggested I talk to her mom while everyone else was out."

"But that didn't workout." I prompted.

"No, Mrs. Edwards said that what was Claudette was doing wasn't really spanking. Then she showed me what a real 'mommy spanking' felt like." Cindy said, the hurt raw in her voice. "She even put me bare bum in a corner afterward. And somehow Kim found out and spread a story that I was missing my real mom so much that I asked her mom to spank me. A couple of my other friends, their moms heard about it let me if I ever really wanted to connect like that then they'd help me. That was embarrassing as hell but at least they left the decision to me. Not like Mrs. Edwards who decided everything."

"For a while I had be careful about which friend I visited. Not that I had a lot of friends left at that point, with me being the crazy girl who asked for spankings and spent all my time studying magic." Cindy continued. "And my new sisters weren't much of a help, always putting me down but never in a way I could point to."

I nodded again, picturing the pointless cruelty. The stepsisters were older, therefore cooler, and they had used their position as sisters to crush Cindy. Maybe they did it to build themselves up, maybe not, but they couldn't have gain much from crushing a non-entity like Cindy would have been at that age. Queen Bees prospered from destroying rivals their own age, not by stepping on younger girls.

"So what are your stepsisters up to now?" I asked gently. "Surely they aren't still in school."

"Oh, they're still living at home and going to the university." Cindy informed. "I think that they're only there part time. Dad used to joke about them going the 'M' 'R' 'S' degree because they hardly study at all."

I nodded and learned more about my cousin's life. Something ugly was taking shape in my mind. I was picturing a girl growing up while being put down by her stepsisters and either neglected or tormented by her stepmother, all while her workaholic father slaved away. Plenty of kids had it worse (at least Cindy wasn't beat much) and normally I didn't care about what sort of dysfunction childhood someone had (mine hadn't been close to perfect) but this was my blood and I hadn't been there to help.

None of the family had been. Cindy's mother had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with most of us (at least not as long as we were involved in the family business) and Henry had found us a distasteful reminder of what his late wife had turned her back on. We weren't going to force our way in someplace where we weren't wanted (at least when family was involved) but someone should have kept an eye on Cindy. It would have taken a few rituals but we could have ...

Except Professor Batesmen had enough on the ball magically that he would have noticed anything we did. He would have complained to authorities and we didn't need the bad press. We also more or less figured that he would be watching out for his own kid, but I guess we had been wrong on that.

I let Cindy wind down, listening to her tale of woe but not hearing anything worth listening to, then steered her back out the door we had entered by. That same employee saw us leave noticed us returning and seemed surprised so I made a note to talk to him and made sure Cindy was around people when I left her. I told her that I'd be back for the funeral then left her talking to people who had known her father at work.

It was as bad as I had feared. Someone from the family had asked about the latest changes in the slavery laws. The employee had thought they had found a loophole, then paled when I said who I worked for and that I was related to Cindy. I told him who I was. Whose blood ran in my veins.

The Ludlow name is one to conjure with. House Ludlow, Ludlow House, the Ludlow Family - call it what you may, the result was the same. Arthur Ludlow had been a monster in his day, one of the greats of wizardry. He'd carved a niche for himself and the family still filled it.

You see Arthur Ludlow was infamous slaver.

Slavery was legal, but barely. It seemed that every decade the bleeding hearts found another way to restrict it. Few people liked slavery and even fewer liked slavers, so we don't go shouting the Ludlow name from the rooftops. Most of the people who bore it had been killed over the years. When someone you loved when the slavers sometimes you went looking for vengeance and any slaver would do. That's how my parents had gone.

The employee assured me that no one at the parlour would do anything about Cindy. That they couldn't, not since the new law had been passed.


It was getting harder and harder to enslave someone. At one point there were countless crimes that could lead to someone going to the block, but where once property crimes sent you the block now you needed a certain level violence to loose your freedom. Where once the pater familias could sell any of his relatives, now there were serious restrictions. No one under a certain age could be sold and once you hit a certain birthday (the common age of majority) only you could sell yourself. Debt slaves would always be with us but other than that there only certain ways that slavers could operate to keep the business going.

They were calling that gap between when you were old enough to sell but too young to decide for yourself the disappointment age. As in if you were a disappointment to your parents they could sell you. Just sign you over to someone from House Ludlow (or one of our competitors) and that was it. Of course both the parents had to agree - parents or guardians.

Normally that gap was good thing, but normally I didn't have relatives at risk. Not that Cindy was at risk, not yet. Following a spate of high profile cases (mostly involving nieces) the law had changed. Now you had to wait at least three days after a parental death before you could enslave someone who was just technically a minor.

Before the law changed I used to do a lot of business in funeral parlours, handling things before the girls were officially heirs so even if freed they could never claim part of the estate. That's why that room existed; it was a place to take a girl to enslave her and move her out the exterior door without disturbing the other mourners. But now no one could enslave Cindy until after midnight tomorrow.


I left the funeral parlour and went to work, researching.


The funeral was everything I expected it to be. Cindy was the only one crying but others looked sad. Not the widows or his stepdaughters, but Henry's co-workers seemed to have liked him. Afterward I joined with the others and went back to the house.

It was a huge house. One that had been in the Batesmen family for generations. Generations of practitioners, all adding special touches to the house. Old houses like this one went for millions on the open market. Yesterday's research had found that the widow had already checked with three listing agents; if it was up to her the house would be sold within the week.

But that was a later worry. Right now I was focusing on what spells and enchantments were standing, making sure that the plan would work.

Cindy wasn't crying, but she wasn't far from it. I came up behind her and suggested that maybe we should talk in her room. I made vague noises about family matters that she might need to know.

No one seemed to notice her leading a strange man to her bedroom. I put that down to negligence more than anything else; from what I learned Cindy wasn't the type to entertain men (or girls) in her bedroom. I had a spell packet prepared in my pocket and as soon as the door shut I triggered it. There was no noticeable effect, at least not from this side of the door, but sound no longer travelled through the room's walls and there was subtle aversion on the door that made you want to pass it by without opening it.

I asked how she was doing and her tears were back. I let her bury her head in my shoulder for a while, then reached for should bag.

"I've got something here that might help." I told her, fishing out a pill bottle and a small can of something to take it with. "You don't look like you've slept a wink for days. This should help you get a nap in. It won't make the world right but it will help you take a little nap."

"But the house is full of people." Cindy protested, wiping her face on a borrowed handkerchief.

"Let Christell handle them." I told her. "She's better at playing host, isn't she?"

"Um, I guess. Maybe just a few minutes." Cindy said, accepting the pill and the drink.

The pill was a little hexagon shaped yellow one. Countless ads had associated those pills with a mild relaxer, something non-addicting that didn't do much but did help you fall asleep if you were tired. I'm sure that's what Cindy thought it was, rather than the sugar pill it was.

Moments after she swallowed it I had to catch her so she wouldn't hit the floor.

People can hide pills in their cheeks, not swallowing them, but when they're focused on the pill they aren't thinking about what's washing it down. Especially if they've just opened a can of something themselves. That's why I lay enchantments on the cans and use sugar pills.

I shifted Cindy to the bed and examined the room. It looked like it should. The room that she had grown up in, modified to fit the tastes of a young woman interested in studying magic. She had done plenty of practice here but no major spells. One wall was still lined with dolls.

Working quickly I removed Cindy's modest black dress and wasn't surprised to find that she had sensible (rather than sensuous) undies to go with her black stockings. I positioned her on her stomach with a pillow under her hips that raised her seat. Gathering her wrists at the small of her back together I bound them with one of my spare handkerchiefs. Reaching into my bag once more I produced a pair of stick notes, one reading "spank" and the other saying "me" and positioned one on each cheek.

The enchantment would last until sunrise, or until someone broke it. You could break an enchantment by unweaving the spell or by finding its catch. The catch for this one was a good swat on the backside and if something went wrong I wanted to sure that Cindy was woken up. I didn't think that anyone could find her there and not smack that pert little upturned bottom of hers, which would wake her. The handkerchief? If things went wrong I didn't want her to be included in the blame and with her hands bound like that she wouldn't look like an accomplice.

Other than the catch it was a perfectly safe enchantment, one with the bonus effect of preventing bathroom accidents. Sometimes my parents used it on me during long drive. We'd get in the car, I (and my siblings) would have take a little drink, and the next thing I knew there was a bit of sting in my bum from the swat that woke me up and we were there.

They didn't do it all the times, but it happened. I used to think that they did it just to avoid an endless chorus of "are there yet" but later I learned it was so my parents could squeeze in some work during the drive. All without us kids noticing that anything (or anyone) was being put in the trunk and dropped off somewhere along the way.

Shaking away those memories I raided Cindy's magical supplied, took reagents from my bag, and started doing some major (but subtle) magic. I wasn't sure that I'd need the spell to deal with Christell, but better safe than sorry.


When the magic was done I let myself out Cindy's bedroom, leaving her there in her enchanted sleep. I slipped out of the house, leaving with a departing mourner.

There were things that I had to take care of.


I slipped back while there were still plenty of well-wishers mingling in the house. The raven-hair stepsister was in the middle of group, but the blonde was standing off by herself.

'Claudette first then.' I thought, moving towards her.

Claudette had been the stepsister who had spanked Cindy. Somehow it felt right to start with her.

I caught her eye as I came towards her. I smiled at her and she smiled back. Somehow I was sure that there wasn't any dolls in her room.

"I don't remember seeing you around before." Claudette said with a smile.

"I'm only here because of, well, maybe we could find a private place to talk?" I suggested.

"And the reason I would want to talk to you is why?" Claudette asked teasingly.

"It's about Cindy." I answered. "And about the plan."

"Plan?" Claudette asked.

I made a point of glancing around.

"Do you really want to talk about it here?" I asked quietly. "Where someone might try to intervene?"

"You mean..."

"I mean when a will says 'daughters' why would anyone want to split things three ways?" I said, confiding in her.

"Oh, you do mean that." Claudette purred. "Yes, we should talk about it privately. I don't think there's anyone in the back study so..."

"But there's better chance we'd be alone if we went to your room." I pointed out.

Her smile turned sassy as she agreed.


Claudette's room lacked the little girl touches that Cindy's had. It figured. She'd been a teen when Henry married her mother and brought her to live here. Childhood toys and trinkets hadn't made the move and the room provided a smaller window into her soul.

She closed the door after me and crossed to a writing desk that was near the bed. When her back was to me I worked the same magic I had worked in Cindy's room. Not that I really needed to; there was already a heavy soundproofing spell on the room.

Glancing at the bed I couldn't help wondering if Claudette was a screamer. That would account both for the privacy spell and the fancy sheets on the bed. Even if she didn't have guests over she would probably have stash of toys somewhere.

"Are you really here for Cinders?" Claudette purred.

"If Cinders' real name is Cindy Batesmen then I'm here for her." I answered, grinning.

"I thought things couldn't be done until later." Claudette said, a gleam in her eyes. "That nothing could happen today."

"It can't, but tomorrow is coming fast and who wants to waste time?" I asked, smiling back at her. "And if no one complains, then who cares if a girl spends her last day of freedom chained to a bed?"

"Chained to a bed, naked?" Claudette prompted.

"If no one cares that that a girl's chained to a bed then no one cares if she's wearing anything." I said with a nod.

Claudette giggled coyly.

"Chained, naked, with a red bum?" Claudette asked.

"Most slaves do get spanked." I agreed. "Why not get a girl used to being spanked by starting a bit early?"

Claudette giggled again.

"I used to spank her bum a bit when we were younger, but that was then." Claudette revealed. "I wonder how she'll take a big girl spanking."

"A slave takes whatever kind of spanking her master gives her."

"Her master?" Claudette cooed.

"Her master, or her mistress." I purred.

"I like the sound of that." Claudette smiled. "That little brat, getting what she deserves."

She opened a drawer on the writing desk to reveal a collection of bottles and set of glasses.

"Care for a drink?" Claudette asked, pouring herself glass of something.

"Sorry, but I can't." I smiled. "Not while I'm legally on duty."

"On duty? Doing what?" Claudette asked, sipping her drink. "I've always wondered what slavers do."

"Not as much as we used to." I admitted. "The courts handle most of the work, sentencing people to slavery. They even handle most of the debt slaves in civil court. Other then that there's the disappointment age, people betting themselves, or signing themselves over."

"Betting themselves? People really do that?" Claudette asked. "What sort of people do that?"

"Stupid people." I told her. "Or thrill seekers who want that extra thrill. Or people who think that they have a sure thing. Now the ones who sign themselves over, they're more interesting."

"You're joking!" Claudette sniggered. "People really do that? I thought that only happened in stories. Heck, if I knew that really happened I would have tricked Cinders into doing it years ago. Then her dad would have to accept it. I can't believe how close she came to getting past the disappointment age. A few more weeks and we wouldn't be able to sell her."

"Oh, you could have." I told her. "You would just have to trick her into signing something."

"We could enspell her and ..." Claudette said dreamily.

"No." I interrupted. "We could trick her but we can't used mind magic on her."

"Then why would she do it?" Claudette asked, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Doing it now, before her birthday, means we get the money her mother left her. That's on top of her share of her father's estate."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"But if something goes wrong with that, what would we have to do to get her to enslave herself?"

"Well, it's faster to show you than to tell you." I said, unslinging and opening my bag. "I usually carry, where are they... Ah, here's some."

I produced a handful of forms, then tossed all but one of them back in the bag. The bag I tossed on the bed and went to where Claudette was.

"Here's one of the self enslavement forms." I said, showing it to her.

"That's the not the form that mom has." Claudette pointed out.

"Of course not." I agreed easily. "This is for self enslavement, not enslaving a minor dependant."

Soon we were leaning over the writing desk together, looking at the form.

"This really it?" Claudette asked. "This is all it takes?"

"That's it." I agreed. "There are longer ones that have all sorts of conditions placed on them but is the shortest, most basic form."

"If Cinders signed it there." Claudette said, pointing to the dotted line. "She's a slave?"

"Well the date has to go there and my official seal there, but that's all it takes." I told her.

Claudette stared in fascination at the form.

"There are people who might be upset about what's going to happen with Cinders." Claudette commented. "Would it make a difference I signed Cinders' name there?"

"Not really. Why don't you try? Just to see how it looks?" I suggested.

Claudette giggled, then signed the name "Cinders" on the dotted line. I smiled and, leaning in, blew on the form, scattering the mystic dust that had concealed today's date and my seal.

"What's that?" Claudette asked.

"Slavers can't use mind control but we can use trickery." I said, pocketing the form. "Here's an obscure legal fact: when you sign something it doesn't matter what you sign, only that you sign it."

"What does that mean?" Claudette asked.

"It means that when you signed that form you signed away your freedom. It means that you're a slave now." I told her quietly.

"But... No! You must be joking." Claudette protested, her jovial mood fading quickly. "You said you were here for Cinders."

"And I am, but I figured I'd pick you up while I was here."

Claudette started to pout, then her face cleared and she started laughing.

"You almost had me there. You really almost had me there." Claudette laughed, rising to her feet.

I rose to my feet with her.

Claudette's dress wasn't really appropriate for a funeral. It was a silky thing designed to be stepped out of. Claudette was a bit surprised, but not shocked, as I eased it off her. As her dress pooled at her feet I say that she had gone for skimpy, revealing underwear. Clothes designed to be looked at, not for comfort.

"I always wanted to do it after a funeral." Claudette said with a smile.

"What you want is no longer important." I assured her, leading her to the bed.

Then I flipped her over my lap and started spanking her black lace panties.

"Ow! Quit it!" Claudette demanded. "I'm not OHH into spank-AH-ing."

"That doesn't matter." I said.

Claudette tried to struggle off my lap. I reach into my bag and moments later her wrists were shackled together.

"Hey stop! I'm really not into bondage." Claudette protested.

"That doesn't matter slave." I said firmly.

"Hey, stop saying that!" Claudette insisted.

I thought about what Claudette had done, the role she had played in Cindy's unhappy childhood. How she had spanked my cousin and humiliated her. How she had planned enslave Cindy and steal the inheritances from both of the girl's parents. I'm not saying that I have anything against hand spanking slaves, but I decided then to get a strap from the bag.

Splat!

"No!" Claudette protested. "Stop it. Really OOHHWWW stop it!"

SMACK

SPLAT

SMACK

"Stop!" Claudette begged. "I really don't want this!"

"That doesn't matter." I repeated.

At some point those lace panties went down, so I could see her ass as I painted it beet red. What I was doing wouldn't be legal, except that I had actually enslaved her.

When I was done I chained her feet together, looping it around the chain between her wrists. As I did so I saw that she was a natural blonde. She was still sobbing, so I force-fed her a potion. Claudette would be out as long as Cindy was.

Once she was out I searched her room. Sex toys galore, a bit of porn (including some instant photos of a topless Claudette), there were some pills hidden behind the booze - it seemed that Claudette was a real party girl. Mixed in with her things were plans of what she planned to do with her share of Cindy's inheritance. Looking at those plans it didn't seem as if the money would have last her long; the girl had planned on spending massive amounts of cash for her own enjoyment.

I left Claudette in her room, sealing the door behind me. I didn't think that anyone would bother her today, and if they tried then the seal would stop them. I didn't want to leave her that way but there was something else I had to do.


I set my watch by the van's clock then entered the house again. The crowd had really thinned by this point, but the "grieving widow" was at the centre of the remaining cluster. I bided my time then made my move on the raven-haired sister.

Coming up behind her I whispered "Arlene, we need to talk about business."

The raven-haired beauty turned to me with a smile.

"What business and where do I know you from?" Arlene asked.

I leaned in close and whispered again. Soon we were in her bedroom, which was more adult than Claudette's. Arlene had been even older when she had come to this house so this had never been the room of a child.

"Cinderella is really going tonight?" Arlene asked.

"I'm here for her." I answered.

Arlene laughed; her laughter was clearer than her sister's giggles, but no less spiteful.

"It's weird, but I almost miss the old guy." Arlene told me. "It's nice that we get his money, but now we'll never know which of his daughters he liked better."

"That's a tough one." I said, pretending to ponder. "Maybe it was Cindy?"

"Eew, gross." Arlene said, giving another laugh. "No, I mean 'like' like, you know?"

"You mean you and the deceased use to..." I asked, surprised by this turn of events.

"Not really, but we flirted and sometimes I think there was a spark." Arlene said. "So what's going to happen to Cinders?"

"Most teen slave girls end up with Sugar Daddy, or Sugar Mommy, type relationships." I told her. "Some of them are even freed by their owners after a few years. A few even get married. Most of them never get anything worse than a series of hard spankings."

"And the rest?" Arlene asked, smiling ghoulishly at the details.

"After, well, when they lose their freshness, they either get sold or passed along. Some end up in brothels, serving the general public, while the rest end up in labour."

"Labour?" Arlene pressed with a smile. "Manual labour?"

"Manual, menial, often back braking labour." I answered, filling in the details and inspiring more of Arlene's ghoulish delight. "The slaves slowly work themselves to death. They're lucky to hit fifty."

"Cinders working herself to death." Arlene laughed, giving that clear laugh of her. "What a wonderful mental picture. Is there any way to track her as she goes down that road?"

"There are means that can be used, but most owners don't like people monitoring their slaves." I told her. "They view it as an invasion of privacy."

"But maybe we could check on her near the end?" Arlene asked.

"The end? The end is years away. Decades. Scores of years. Why worry about that now?" I purred. "Now's the time to consider the glories and wonders of youth. Don't think about old age, think about the wonders of a girl being pushed far beyond the boundaries of her comfort. About living the lifestyle with no safewords or times out. About all the joys that can come from using a slave."

Again with the clear laughter.

"That sounds so wonderful! Little Cinders living that life." Arlene said, gleefully anticipating my cousin's discomfort. I couldn't help wondering what Cinders could have possibly done to Arlene to make the girl hate her so much. Then it dawned on me - Arlene didn't hate Cindy. Arlene found Cindy an annoyance, an inconvenience, and nothing more. She was doing this to my cousin mostly for the money. That Cindy suffered was just a minor, petty bonus for her.

A few minutes later Arlene was a slave. She didn't even sign a Cindy's name, she wanted to see what her own name would like on a form. It was one of the easiest enslavements that I had ever done.

Arlene's raven bush was thicker than her sister's; I saw that when I was stripping her off. Arlene was a bit quicker on the uptake than her sister.

"This isn't going to last." Arlene told me as I stripped her. "My mom will buy me back. You'll see. And when that happens I'll get the board onto you."

"The board?" I asked.

"You hid the date and the seal." Arlene told me, standing nude before me with her hands firmly on her hips. "You tricked me."

"But only after I told you that I tricked people into slavery." I pointed out.

The laugh came again, but this time I could hear the bitterness.

"You told me that, but only to trick me." Arlene protested.

I shackled her wrists and searched the room. Arlene had more sex toys and more drugs than her sister. Mixed in with her porn was a wide selection of home made stuff that featured her, showing her as the more adventurous of the two.

She also had a cane. A nice, whippish cane that wouldn't out of place in one of those barbarous schools that used to use them. I knew that type of cane well; unfortunately I knew it from both sides. Being sent to that school was one of the reasons I envied Cindy her mother.

"I bought that for Cinders." Arlene said quickly. "For after she was enslaved."

"There's a bit of wear." I noted.

"Well I had to try it out first." Arlene said defensively.

"Let's see how it works then."

"Try it and I'll scream." Arlene warned.

"I've added a layer of soundproofing to your room." I pointed out, noting the time on her bedside clock and comparing it to my watch. "So feel free to scream away. In fact I insist on it."

"But you can't." Arlene whined. "I can't be caned as a slave. It will go on my record or something. No, I can't be caned."

"You can be caned." I assured her. "And you will be."

Have you ever forced a girl over a bed? It's easy once she has her wrists bound.

"But you can't do this." Arlene insisted.

All it took was a single 'Swishs Crack!' to prove her wrong. Of course Arlene screamed; she really let loose. Made me glad that I had added extra soundproofing.

"That's enough." Arlene insisted. "You've proved your point. You don't need to do it again. I'm at your mercy. Now let me up."

I couldn't let up then. There's no point in letting a slave think that she could be in control. That, and she had a cute little bum that cried out to be caned. Well, smacked at least, but when I thought about what she planned for my cousin, no, what she had done to my cousin. The future didn't matter, it wasn't going to happen, but the past torment... That needed dealing with.

That reasoning brought the cane down again.

Arlene screamed again.

"Okay, stop!" Arlene insisted. "I've had enough."

Her saying that meant that she hadn't. She hadn't come close to having enough, not if she was trying to call the shots. So the cane came down again.

"Stop!" Arlene sobbed. "You don't have to do this! Stop!"

Those first three stripes had been parallel, so this fourth one came down across those first three, crossing those lines. A couple of welts were starting to form as Arlene screamed her denial of reality. Of course I was doing this. It didn't matter how many times she screamed that I wasn't. That I couldn't. That she really wasn't a slave.

There was only one way I could answer that. With the cane. It was the least Arlene deserved. After years of treating my little cousin like dirt Arlene deserved this.

Bringing my cane down again I decided to stop thinking about Cindy. I was staring at Arlene's bum as it wiggled, with her little pussy peaking through her legs. I didn't need to think about little Cindy now. All I needed to think about what I was doing to Arlene.

In a way, it was thoughtful for Arlene to have provided this cane.

"Stop!" Arlene whined.

I've found that strokes from a cane are just like potato chips; I can never stop after just a few. At least when I'm dishing them out. Then again, when I've been on the wrong side of the cane there were never just a few whacks coming my way. Thinking about that, I decided to criss-cross her bum with lines. Not like she could resist me, not with those chains on her. And yeah, I didn't just cane her bum. Those white thighs of her needed a touch of red in them. Okay, more than touch. I gave her some nice lines there too.

Then yet another dose of that potion was used. It's a good thing that's it easy to make.


Leaving Arlene's room, I checked my watch against the hall clock and smiled. Glancing around, I saw the house was empty of guests. It was perfect; the guests had all left, leaving me alone in with my targets. I glanced around a bit and then I wandered into Christell.

"I thought that all the guests had left." Christell said, turning around and seeing me. "Sorry, do I know you?"

"Technically no, I'm not a guest." I answered. "I'm here on business."

"Oh, are you connected to the estate?" Christell asked, sizing me up.

With that one glance, Christell sized me up more than most professionals ever bothered to do. People saw me as a practitioner or as a slaver or just another guy, picking a label and filling in the details in their mind. Not Christell. She looked at me and saw who I was.

"You're not the person I've been in contact with." Christell pointed out. "Is Cinders really worth that much?"

"She's young lady with the potential to be a powerful practitioner." I pointed out. "And in a cute little package. Nice tits and a very spankable bum."

"That she has." Christell agreed with a laugh. "Can you believe that I've never spanked it myself? That's the one thing that Henry was firm on. God knows the little brat needed putting in her place, but I never so much as swatted it."

"You haven't?" I asked, pretending to be shocked. "On one hand, that's a shame, but on the other that will just add to her price. Never been spanked? Some buyers would treat that as having an extra cherry."

"Well I wouldn't say she's never been spanked." Christell corrected. "Just not by me."

"Then that won't add to her price." I noted.

"And speaking of her price, you still aren't the person I've been doing business with." Christell pointed out again.

"Ah, about that." I said with a chuckle. "When a valuable asset like that comes on the market, it attracts attention. Speaking of attention, do we really want to talk about it here? If Cinders wanders by, well, a deal isn't a deal until it's a deal, is it?"

"Maybe we should go elsewhere?" Christell agreed. "Not that it really matters now."

She led me back the way she had come from. Back to her room. It was the fourth bedroom I had seen in this house and it was definitely the nicest. The master bedroom usually was. The odd part? There had been changes. Henry had only been put in the ground today and the widow had already partially redecorated a bedroom in a house that she planned to sell.

Christell went to her writing desk. A form was already there. A very familiar one. I had to fight not to smile. I had guessed right. The plan was going to work.

"As you can see, I've already signed the paperwork with one of your competitors."

I glanced towards the clock on the bedside table. 12:04. Christell must have signed the paperwork at the stroke of midnight. Christell wasn't taking any chances with my cousin possibly avoiding the fate that had been selected for Cindy. Signed the paperwork then gone looking for Cindy to tell her the good news.

Cindy wasn't openly linked to our House, but I made note of the name on the form. That idiot should have known better than to get careless around Ludlow. Maybe a lesson needed to be taught? But that would happen later and I needed to focus on the now.

"You really should have made your pitch sooner." Christell continued. "I noticed you around hanging around today. Where were you?"

"Well, your lovely daughters happened to notice me as well." I said with a smile. "They are determined girls. They must take after their mother."

Christell fixed me with a look.

"I have a vague idea what someone in your line of work earns." Christell commented. "And how your organisation uses practitioners. Just where in your organisation's structure do you fall?"

"I have it on good authority that there will an elevation soon. A full position. One that includes all the mystic power necessary to take someone into the big leagues." I said, telling the truth and nothing but the truth.

"Someone like that, they get a percentage." Christell said with a smile. "A percentage of everything in the region, correct?"

"Correct." I acknowledged.

"So my daughters aren't wasting their time on your. Maybe things would have been better if we had meet earlier." Christell said with a smile. "What sort of deal would you have offered for her?"

"I thought you'd never ask." I said, producing a form from my bag. "I took the liberty of filling in certain details."

It was mostly filled out. I had lifted their signatures so it looked as if Claudette and Arlene had already signed off on it. As elder relatives of the enslaved-to-be they might have a claim on the girl and this made it look as if they had just signed off on that claim. Those names weren't included on Christell's form. That didn't invalidate it but either of the girls might have been able to try to claim a piece of Cindy's sale price. It was dated, all ready to go.

And the price? It was thirty percentage higher than the one Christell's form. I knew what a girl like Cindy would go for (wholesale and projected retail) and filled in the higher price accordingly.

"Nice." Christell said with a smile. "And I haven't filed this form yet. The bump in the price is nothing compared to her inheritance, but extra cash is extra cash."

She put it down on her writing desk and signed it. She barely glanced at it before she signed it. I glanced at my watch. It was perfect. I took back the form with a smile.

"And here I thought that you would be difficult." I said with a smile.

"And what does that mean?" Christell asked.

"It's the shape of the form." I revealed. "It has to have the same number of words per line as the original. As long as it looks exactly like the original than no one notices that it's a self enslavement form."

Christell's smile faded.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You just signed yourself over as a slave." I revealed. "A slave owned by Cindy."

"That's impossible!" Christell protested. "Even if you did rig the form there's no way that Cindy could benefit. She's already a slave! So that renders it invalid."

"It would, if that original form was valid." I said with a smile. "I did a little spell when I was here earlier. Changing time is generally impossible, but clocks are another matter. All the clocks in this house are running a bit fast. It's only 11:58, real time. Legally, you can't enslave her another two minutes."

"So I'll do it then." Christell insisted.

"You can't." I told her. "You're now a slave and slaves can't enslave people."

"Then... Then my daughters will buy me back and enslave that blasted bitch for me." Christell asserted.

"Too late." I grinned. "Your girls are already slaves. You're the last one. You complete the set."

"Like fuck!" Christell screamed. "You can't do this! I'll lodge a complaint. I'll bring you up on charges! You can't do this to me."

"It's already done." I told her. "I'll swear to it in spellbound testimony and that's all it will take. They'll never let you testify. Trust me, I've done this countless times. The trick is for the mark to be overconfident. I tell them that I'm a slaver who tricks people into being slaves and they think that this means I won't try to enslave them. Then they fall over themselves to sign their freedom away."

"But you can't do this!" Christell insisted. "That little bitch goes and we get all her money! That's the plan! I won't let you do this!"

Maybe I should have gotten the chains on her first, but mamma bitch wasn't going to play any kinky games with me. She was too smart for that. She dived across the bed in a vain attempt to reach the door - as if that would have helped her. I was on her before she cleared the bed. A handkerchief spilled out of my pocket and I got one end knotted around her left wrist. That didn't stop her from nailing me with her right and kneeing me, missing my balls and connecting with my thigh. I grunted, but I caught her wrist and twisted it behind her back. She fought, but once I had her wrists bound it was all over.

"Why are you doing this?" Christell demanded, still trying to wrestle herself away. "How much did that little slut offer you? Whatever it I'll match it. I'll double it!"

"You can't offer me what she has." I said, trying to laugh through my pain.

"What's that? A tight twat? A virgin asshole? What?"

"Did you ever ask poor departed Henry about his first wife?" I asked, wrestling Christell face down on the bed. I had to grind my knee into her back hold her in place because she wouldn't stop trying to wrestle free.

I brought my hand down hard on her backside. Christell screamed in outrage and tried to throw me off her back, so I smacked her ample backside again. And again. I alternated which cheek I was smacking to make sure that she could feel it. With the way she was wiggling I ended up landing some of the smacks on her thighs, but they added to ones landing on her bum as I lit a fire back there.


Christell kicked and struggled as much as she could, but her hands were bound and I've have far too much experience in handling slaves to let this one get away.

That was what she was - a slave. Last week she had just been another woman, one that happened to be married to my late cousin's husband, and now she was a slave. Her own actions had brought her here - at least that's what I told myself. Not that I was feeling any real guilt; it was either Christell and her daughters being enslaved or my little cousin and no one touches one of my blood relatives.

So I spanked away, driving home the point that Christell was now a slave. Her offers kept getting bigger and more frantic. She offered to sign over Cindy's house to me. She offered to sell Cindy to me, then to give her to me. Sweetening the pot she added the daughter of my choice. But Cindy's house wasn't hers to give and I already had both her daughters as slaves. There was nothing that Christell could offer me; I already had everything that had been hers.

Christell just didn't understand that yet.

But she did understand my hand on her backside. Its constant rain of blows was wearing her down. I wanted to haul up her dress, her slip, and other get down to her underwear but that damn dress was just too tight. A small part of me wondered how she used the bathroom in that dress, but I decided that it must have been easier to manoeuvre when her legs weren't kicking that way. When she wasn't squirming so much and resisting my efforts.

And she was resisting. Resisting too much. I hated to waste magic but I gestured and did a minor working - and a hairbrush flew from her vanity into my hand. The meaty whacks of the hairbrush replaced the smacking sound of my hand and drove some of Christell's arrogance from her. It was brute force but sometimes brute force was better than guile.

Christell was proud, but eventually even a proud woman could be cowed by a hard spanking. Especially if a good solid instrument was used. Christell was sobbing despite herself as I forced the potion down her throat.


Once Christell was taken care off, I scouted the house. I'd assumed that I was the last the guest there but it paid to check assumptions. Once I was sure that the house was empty (except for the girls in their drugged sleep) I sought out the ritual room. Henry Batesmen had had a well equipped one, but I didn't want to use his. Not with him so recently in the ground - some magic of his might still be lingering. Luckily, in a house this size and this old there was more than one ritual room.

I dragged the slaves to one, being careful not to let any of their bums touch the ground in case that wakened them. Looking at the time, I saw it was closer to one than midnight. The events of the day had worn me down a bit and I need more energy, so did something I hated doing and borrowed a night's sleep. In a flash it was just as if I had spent a full eight hours in bed, but the loan came at a ruinous interest rate. I'd need another full hour's sleep everyday for two weeks. That's 14 extra hours in bed for a mere eight hours of rest, but what can you do? Magic's like that. There's never anything like a free lunch.


When it comes to magic there's brute force and then there's subtly. Any idiot can work a spell that breaks a girl's will and leaves her a near mindless husk. Well, any idiot with enough power who knows the right spells... And there are idiots out there who can do that. The fact's self evident; people do spells like that and only an idiot would be wasteful enough to destroy a slave's mind and personality, but slaves like that exist so it must be idiots who make them. House Ludlow doesn't have any idiots in it, at least none that survive its rigors so I didn't destroy any minds.


Hours later I was done. The women would now be submissive to authority, forced to obey anyone who was labelled their master or mistress, but other than that their personalities were intact. They were still Claudette, Arlene, and Christell but they were slaves. Submissive and safe.

Then came the boring part - dragging them back to their rooms and re-dressing them. Claudette and Arlene had short skirts in their wardrobe so I dressed them in T-shirts, skimpy panties, and a skirt, making sure that the skirt was pulled high enough to expose the marks on their bottoms and thighs. Christell didn't have any scandalously high skirts so I left her laid out on her bed wearing nothing but her bra and panties. The free Christell would have never allowed herself to be seen that way, but slave Christell didn't have a choice in what she wore.

I left all three women wearing a bit of leather. Slave bracelets, ankle bands, that sort of thing. Cindy would need a visible reminder of their status.


Of course I couldn't let my cousin wake up the way I left her, so back to Cindy's room. Off came the handkerchief, then I rubbed at her wrists to erase the marks it had left on her. The sticky notes went back in my bag and I forced her dress back on her.

Dressing a sleeping girl, one sleeping because of magic or some drug, is never easy. Cindy was the fourth girl I'd dressed since borrowing some sleep and it was wearing me out. It's not like getting a drunk undressed, when a girl's dead weight then she's harder to move than a sack of flour. It was hard to do, dressing my cousin, but I couldn't let her wake in just her underwear.

The sun almost up before Cindy was properly dressed, but I wasn't willing to wait. I stretched her out face down on her bed. Now if this had been a fairy tale there would have been a prince to kiss her awake, but this wasn't some tale made up for children. There was only one way to wake Cindy up early.

I delivered a smack on her upturned bum and Cindy's eyes flew open.

"Huh? What?" Cindy muttered, trying to make sense of things.

"You drifted off." I told her. "The stress must have been too much. You needed sleep and you got some."

"Huh? Are the guests still here?" Cindy asked groggily.

Now for the hard part. Enslaving her stepsisters and Christell had been easy compared to this.

"Cindy, did your mother ever tell you about her side of the family?" I asked.

"Um, maybe I should get back to the guests?"

"Look at your clock." I said, gesturing to the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was a bit off. Like every clock in the house it was running fast but it was close enough to the right time to show that it was morning.

"What?" Cindy asked, glancing at her clock. "I couldn't have slept that long, could I?"

"Your body needed the rest." I repeated. "Now did your mother ever tell you about her side of the family?"

"Um, no. Hey, what are you still doing here?" Cindy asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "Were you here all night? Because if you were that's kind of creepy. Cousin or not, I don't want you watching me sleeping."

"I didn't think she did." I said, ignoring her comments. "You were a bit too young to know then."

I took a deep breath and started to explain about the Ludlow Family and Cindy's connection to it. Her eyes went wide, her eyes bugged out, and she panicked a bit. Okay, more than a bit. She was hyperventilating before I finished my story.

"Does this mean I'm a slave?" Cindy asked, her eyes still wide.

"No, just the opposite." I assured her. "It means that no one with any sense would ever try to make you a slave. The Ludlow Family has a long reach and we aren't known for our forgiving nature."

"Um, okay?" Cindy eeped. "Um, so I'm okay? I'm safe?"

"Well, that's a sore point." I told her. "You see your stepfamily didn't know about your connection to the Ludlow Family. Maybe your father didn't want them to know, maybe he didn't think to tell them, but they didn't know about us and, well, um, they decided to sell you as a slave."

"What?" Cindy exclaimed. "No! They can't! They wouldn't!"

Then she calmed down a bit and thought.

"Um, maybe they might. Um, Christell might, but the others wouldn't. Um, well, maybe Claudette might, but Arlene... Well maybe Arlene... Oh shit. They can't, can they? I mean they can't! There was a law!"

Tears started shining in Cindy's eyes.

"I know there was law! I remember hearing about it when it passed." Cindy said, starting to hyperventilate again. "They can't do anything until dad's been dead for... Oh shit it's today and now it's legal. Oh shit, does that mean... but you said I can't be enslaved because we're cousins and um..."

"Don't worry." I assured her. "I fixed things. I probably didn't fix things the way you would want them fixed but it was the only way. Trust me, this was the only way."

"Um, sure, I guess. Um, what way?" Cindy asked, calming down a bit.

"It wasn't easy." I lied. "But the only way to keep you safe was to enslave them all."

"Well if that's what you had to do... What? What did you say?"

"I had to enslave them all." I repeated.

"What? Who?"

"I enslaved Claudette, Arlene, and Christell because that was the only way to keep you safe." I explained softly. "It was the only way. They all wanted you to be a slave. All of them. I asked them all, one by one, and they all wanted you to be sold."
"They did? Really?" Cindy asked, not wanting to believe me but knowing her relatives. "All of them?"

"All of them." I told her. "It was the only way to keep you safe. This time."

"This time?" Cindy asked in alarm. "But... But my birthday is coming up and then..."

"And even then there are still lots of ways you could be enslaved." I said, stretching the point a bit. "It's a dangerous world out there. I know most of the ways someone can go. Heck, I've taken girls most of those ways. A girl like you, a potential practitioner and good looking, you need protection."

"I do?" Cindy whined. "But... But dad never said... I mean... No one told me and dad would have..."

"He probably thought that you didn't need to know." I lied. Well, lied or stretched the point. Something like that. "While he was alive his presence was more than enough to protect you. Now, well..."

"But if you... I mean I'm safe now, right?" Cindy asked.

She was quick on the uptake. She had gone from "I'm in danger" to "You did what?" to "How does this affect me?" in the space of minutes. Smart girl. Hopefully she wasn't too smart.

"Don't worry." I assured her. "House Ludlow looks after their own. You're not a member yet, but every blood descendant of Arthur Ludlow can claim membership."

"But... But I don't want to be a slaver. I've never even met a slave."

"Don't worry." I said again, hoping that repetition would drive the point home. "Not every member of the house is involved in slaving. There are all sorts of support services that need doing. The house is a big machine and it needs lots of supports to keep the gears turning."

"But... I'm too young." Cindy protested. "I don't have any training. I've never taken any classes on that. None at all."

Of course she hadn't. A course like that wouldn't have impressed her father so she wouldn't have thought about taking it.

"Don't worry about training." I assured her, repeating the 'don't worry' mantra again. "Have you heard of elevations?"

"Elevations? You mean pouring power and energy into someone and making them a wizard? Isn't that like cheating?" Cindy asked. "Dad always said that you should get an education before trying something like that."

"Don't worry." I said. "Yes, study is usually the best route, but we don't have all the time in the world. You're a young girl and without House Ludlow you'd be all alone in the world. It's a big scary world out there and there are plenty of traps for a young girl on her own. I know; I deal with girls your age all the time. They think they have the world by the tail and suddenly they have a slave collar on."

"But I don't know. Do I have to?" Cindy asked.

I love it when they leave things up to me. As if I'd go over all the options and not just the ones that worked best for me. I had enslaved countless girls that way, but this time I was steering someone to what I honestly thought was best for her.

"Don't worry, it will work out." I assured her.

"But I can't do it." Cindy protested. "I don't know anything about slaves. I couldn't do it. I don't have it in me."

"Don't worry." I said, stroking her hair. "You're a Ludlow. The blood might be thin but it's there. You'll learn."

"How?" Cindy asked.

I could see her trying to work out things. To frame things in her mind. A week ago her life had been set, then it had been shattered. Now here I was giving her life a new direction and she was trying to make a senseless world make sense. I wanted to tell her to just go with it, but I couldn't. Girls were so cute when they thought that life should be fair and I didn't want to ruin that for Cindy. She had plenty of time to grow up - I was seeing that.

"Don't worry. You'll be able to handle slaves just fine. I've even set things up so you can practice handling slaves before you make your big decision." I told her.

"How?" Cindy asked, panic flashing through her eyes. "Um, are you having slaves delivered? Delivered here?"

"Don't worry, I'm not have a delivery made." I assured her. "It's just that I'm not having a pickup."

"Huh?"

I knew that Cindy was a smart girl. I'd seen her grades. Maybe it was just the shock that was making her slow on the uptake.

"I enslaved Claudette, Arlene, and Christell to keep you safe." I reminded her, not finding a way to work in the 'don't worry' mantra. "But I didn't take them away."

"They're still here?" Cindy asked, worry back in her eyes.

"No, the slaves who used to be them are still here." I corrected. "They've already been treated and conditioned. Most of their personalities were still there, but they're slaves now."

"But, um, they're slaves then who... I mean, slaves have owners, right? So, um..."

"Don't worry." I told her. "They have an owner. You."

"Me?" Cindy squeaked.

"You." I confirmed. "You now own them and they have to do what you say. You could tell them to scrub the bathroom with a toothbrush and they would have to do it."

"Really?" Cindy asked in disbelief.

"Really." I told her. "You could even spank them if you want. Imagine putting Claudette over your lap and getting back at her for all those times she spanked you."

Of course it wouldn't be Claudette she was spanking. The enslavement would change Claudette enough that it wouldn't be the real Claudette over Cindy's lap. Not that Cindy would notice. I doubted she would care if she did.

"Look, why don't you check on them." I suggested. "They should be awake now. Awake and all ready to start their lives as slaves. As your slaves."

Cindy hesitated. It took a bit of doing, but I convinced her. I'm not sure if she would have done it without seeing pink on Claudette's thighs and bum, but when I left the house I could hear Cindy spanking her mean older step sister.


I got back to my van, wishing that I could have timed things so I had been back there before sunrise. But that hadn't been possible so there was movement in the cages in the back of the van. Not much movement, I believe in binding limbs before caging them. At least before the spell enslaves them. Gagging too, which cut down on the noise.

Cindy didn't know it yet, but I had done more than help her against her stepsisters and Christell. I was listening when Cindy told how she had gone to a friend, Kim Edwards, for help and been betrayed. Listening to the story of how Marie Edwards (Kim's mother) had spanked Cindy and the two of them spreading the word about it, putting all the blame on my cousin and making her seem like a freak. Isolating her.

I couldn't let someone do something like that.

Not to a blood relative.

Which had been why I had to leave the Batesmen house twice after the funeral. It hadn't been easy, but when a professional slaver targets someone he usually gets her. As I drove away I had a mother / daughter combo in the cages in the back of my van. I planned to use them and their oh so similar backsides in a 'cane vs birch' debate. The only thing I hadn't decided was to do it before or after the spellwork. Technically they were already slaves, but birching a woman who hasn't been spell conditioned to take it while someone else canes her daughter beside her, well that might be a special gift to myself.


And now I have little confession to make. Remember when I said I was helping Cindy chart her life in the way that I thought best? That I was leaving out options? And that other time when I said I hoped she wasn't too smart? Well there were scores of options I had left out that I hoped she wouldn't think of until it was too late. With her money, with her double inheritance, Cindy could have easily set things up in a way that would allow her to chart her own life. Someday she would learn that and maybe she would hate me for what I did, but I still think that joining the House is best option for her. Besides, we always need more Ludlows in the house.

And if she doesn't want what we're offering? If Cindy tries to turn us down? She'd be forgetting that we'll the closest relatives she has and she's weeks away from leaving the disappointment age. If it comes that then she'll be elevated with a dark red backside, tears on her face, and a slave collar around her throat. We'll free her once she's elevated and made into one of us, but one way or the other my little cousin is going to be an elevated member of House Ludlow and that's that.

Goodgulf

[padded23]

Wow old friend! That was the best story you have ever written! Not only was that a awesome take on a well know classic. But as a gamer who knows the RPG styles I thought your creation of a world like that was amazing. You have cited gurps but the whole idea and feeling was more Deadlands I thought. I do wish we could game together because your ideas are imaginative. You must be a really good GM.

I also enjoyed how spanking was not the center piece but a supporting story tool. I have only seen you do this one other time. A story where spanking could or could not be used. In fact the whole spanking thing looks like it could have been inserted just for this message board. Truly an awesome short story.

Kudos GG

[goodgulf]

Thanks.

This isn't one of the ones based on GURPS - it's more Deadlands, WoD, or Shadowrun type with the slavery mixed with magic. I've run many games - I'd have to say that Amber Diceless and certain LARPS are important to me, but lately I've been exploring FATE (and at the base of it all is D&D).

I started to write a story where the spanking was the main focus, but somehow the story took over and ran away with me. Even when I tried to focus more on the spankings I just couldn't see the narrator focusing on them - by that point he had his own style thing going on and it didn't include loving descriptions of the spankings

Speaking of GURPS, another new posting - Video Entities - the Mix Up - was taken practically whole cloth from a GURPS setting book. A sidebar in Technomancer even talked about how some right wing religious groups were concerned about Video Entities, plastic golums, and succubi working as prostitutes being threats to the nation's moral health. Alas, the back story got out of control on that one, but once the action started I thought it moved right along.

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to comment.

Goodgulf