Elize McCoy sat at the breakfast table playing with
her sausage and eggs and trying to listen to her
father who was going on about marriage. “But I have a
whole year, Daddy. I’m only fifteen you know?”

He smiled and lit his first cigar of the day. “True,
true, but remember you are promised, promised since
you were two.”

The pretty blonde girl made a sour face. “But Daddy,
Philip is such a, a prig. Isn’t that the word? He’s no
fun at all, won’t even dance or anything. And he goes
to that hardcore church, that fire and hellstone
preacher.”

He chuckled. “He may be a dolt, suspect he is, but his
family and ours need this wedding, this union. His
tractor business and our cars are a fine match, make
us number one in the Confederation; boy’s worth
millions y’know.”

“We’re rich enough, Daddy. Aren’t we?”

“I suppose, but old Ralph admires you. Spect he’d like
to have you in his own bed, crowded though it might
be. Fact is, m’dear, once you are in his family, I
expect you to be a good wife, and if your dear father-
in-law wants to mount your lilywhite body, you’ll
welcome him with open legs. Y’hear? He might get a
child on ya while his fat son just plays with your
titties.” He looked stern, something he found hard to
do with his lovely child, his only child. His fashion-
model wife, who he knew was up in her room with one of
her young studs, absolutely refused to bear another.

“I’m going to the park with some of my friends; won’t
be home for lunch.” She kissed his stubbled cheek and
fled, her short skirt fluttering about her long legs,
her young vulva pulsing, eager for sex. In the
driveway she jumped into her royal-blue Jebster, the
new sports coupe her father’s company had recently
debuted and scattered gravel as she roared away.

It was not friends she sought or intended to play
with, and she grinned as she floored the powerful car
and raced toward the big stud farm in the outskirts of
Richmond. Elize, like her mother and most of her
female cousins, had a running account with Stanley’s
Studs and were able to satisfy themselves whenever and
wherever they chose. The girl had been using the bound
boys since she was twelve and seldom went through a
summer week with romping with one or more of the well-
hung young men whose job it was to please, serve and
satisfy wealthy women and a few rich men.

As she reached the county road and retracted the roof,
Elize wondered again about the world she lived in, the
world of privilege for a very few and toil and
restraint for the many who served them.

By the time she was born, the blacks had almost
disappeared from the Confederate States, at least in
name and obviousness, many shipped back to Africa or
to Brazil, more than a hundred thousand slaughtered in
the mutiny or uprising of 1900, although numerous
mulattos still served in various capacities, mostly
sexual. In fact some of the most beautiful women on
the salacious television programs were at least part
African.

Above the scattered progeny of former slaves and
masters were the bound men and women, a serf-like
multitude who were Scot-Irish or German for the most
part, and by law and contract, forced to serve various
masters for a set number of years, usually seven to
ten. Most were young and in fact, when she thought of
it, Elize wondered why there were not white-haired
bonded people. She did not know about the termination
laws although she was aware of the crematorium on the
distant hillside that smoked night and day. By law,
when a member of the servant class was no longer
useful, he or she was painlessly euthanized.

There were, she knew, white people like herself who
were not wealthy and could not vote, men and women
such as doctors and teachers, who served the ruling
class in various worthy capacities and who were
rewarded for their work and allowed to breed more or
less freely. Some of them were quite elderly. The girl
frowned as she reached the long driveway and pulled
into the parking area, jumped out and ran toward the
big barn.

Her people and people like them were at the top, they
ran the country’s enterprises and ruled it as well,
had for more than a century, since the end of the War
Between the States. At least the men did. Women were
cherished but they neither voted nor held elected
office.

President Wilbur Philipson, now in the eighth year of
his ten-year term, was a friend of the family and
often dined with the McCoys at their palatial home
high above the James River. Her multi-millionaire
father was a senator although he seldom attended
sessions unless a vote was scheduled.

Buck Stanley saw the lithe girl trotting across the
lawn and felt his cock stir. She was one of the
prettiest of the snotty bunch his boys served, and he
had often plotted ways to get her alone and have her
pale body for himself when she was high on one of the
soporific drugs, but she ignored him with haughty
glances despite the fact that his family was at least
as high-ranking as hers, just not as rich.

“Hi Buck,” Elize chirped, giving him a friendly hug
and a nuzzle, letting her globular breast almost fall
from her loose-fitting blouse, “how `bout fetching me
a boy to play with, say that Robert Twelve I saw last
time. He was right good.”

“Fraid not, pretty thing, Bobby’s off working in
Petersburg t’day, doing a bunch of them book reading
ladies.”

“Shoot,” she said with a pout, “aw’right, who’s next,
who’s on deck as they say?”

“Got a real young one for you, sweetie, only fourteen
this boy is, just broke in so I’d like to know how he
does when y’all are done, if you don’ mind.”

She smiled and nodded. “Fourteen? Does he shave?”

They laughed together and a door opened and the lean
boy appeared, wearing the usual t-shirt and jeans, a
sensor on his left ankle. All the boys and men who
worked as studs had been neutered, some with chemicals
but most by vasectomy, and all were famously endowed;
seven inches was guaranteed by the firm.

“Lord,” Eliza said, “ain’ much of him is there. Might
break him if I’m not careful.”

“Have fun,” Buck said, squirming as he tried to adjust
his trousers.

The bound boy took Elize by the hand and led her out
to one of the grassy play areas behind the barn and
within a hedge of bushes. His parents had hired him
out to the Stanley firm, bound him by contract for ten
years, and agreed to have hm operated on with the
agreement that the treatment could possibly be
reversed. It seldom was. Most of Stanley’s studs died
in the saddle or were so diseased that they were
terminated before their years of service were over.

Wordlessly, they stripped each other in the bright
sunshine, and the girl was very pleased to see that
the skinny boy was indeed very well endowed; in fact
his dangling pecker frightened her just a bit. She had
enjoyed several young men who sported seven-inchers,
just as Stanley advertised, “at least a stiff seven
for you” the ads proclaimed. And last week, with the
boy who was now in Richmond, she had her first eight-
inch cock and screamed with delight when he repeatedly
lifted her on it. But this youngster, this 14-year-old
had a long, slim member that might be longer than that
once it got fully excited. Elize stroked his slim
penis as he bent to lick her hard nipples.

Jimmy, as the boy was called, was new to this work. He
had gone through a six-week training regimen and had
mounted several women, but this girl was different.
She was beautiful and she was more or less his age. He
licked and sucked her tits and then kissed his way
down her lithe body, kneading her firm buttocks as he
did so, and buried his face between her legs, probing
and sucking as he had been taught until she squealed
and pushed him away.

By then his long prick was fully aroused and arched
up, nearly ten inches long and as thick as the handle
of a baseball bat. The girl turned around, dropped to
the padded mat, raised her ass and the boy stroked her
bulging slit and then pushed his stiff rod into her.
She wiggled and gasped as he penetrated and then held
her at the waist as he drove it into the hilt, to the
balls.

“More, more,” the girl gasped as he began, “harder,
deeper!”

Jimmy grabbed her long hair and arched her body as he
hammered away with short, vicious thrusts and then he
felt his testicles surge and the flow of semen in his
cock. He trembled with fear as well as lust.

He came, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out,
pumped hard and shivered with pleasure as he pistoned
out his semen. The girl’s head dropped, but he grasped
her at the shoulders and get right back into rhythm,
humping steadily at marching pace just as he had been
taught.

Elize was on the point of achieving her third orgasm
when the young man hammering his long ram into her
suddenly stopped, grunted and collapsed on her.

She wiggled away, kicked his shouder and said, “What’s
wrong, boy. Get back to work.”

His briefly blood-starved brain recovered, and he swam
back to consciousness. Buck Stanley who had been
watching the action on his closed-circuit TV and
jerking off his cock while he did, zipped up his
britches and ran out to the place where the boy was on
his hands and knees, head drooping and the girl was
kicking him in the ribs.

“What happened?” he asked her, not wanting to say he
had seen the young man go stiff before he fainted.

“Damn if I know,” she said. “He jus’ quit on me.”

Smiling, Buck pulled his Tredegar automatic and fired
two heavy slugs into the back of the boy’s head. Blood
spurted as he pushed the shocked girl back to the soft
lounge, freed his raging cock and mounted her, still
fully clothed. Elize screamed and screamed as she was
raped.

Buck’s manhood was thick and hard and his style was
vicious and mean. He satisfied himself in five minutes
and then dragged the mewling girl back to the barn and
gave her to the man in charge of the wholesale sluts.

“Aw’right Jethro,” he snarled, “I want you to dye her
hair and ship her off to N’Orleans with the next
batch, y’hear?”

The man, who was well aware of who the girl was,
nodded. “Y’can use her and share her, but don’ you let
her get loose.”

“Yessir,” the man said, licking his lips as he grasped
the girl’s wrist and pulled her to him. He patted her
butt and said, “Come along, Honey, we’s gonna have
some fun.”

Buck drove the roadster back behind the barn and had
his mechanics disassemble the car. The engine and
wheels went to one scrap dealer and the frame and body
panels to another.

***

The headquarters tower of Jackson Motors was near the
sprawling assembly plant on the road to Petersburg.
The tower held the design, engineering, manufacturing,
sales and business executives and their staff as well
as dozens of young females who served the men who
worked there. Each top executive had his own PA or
mistress and there was a pool of well-trained girls
shared by the others.

Jonathan McCoy entered his suite of offices at about
ten that morning, ensconced himself in his huge,
leather chair and welcomed Lucille, his current PA,
with a smile and open legs as he got ready for a busy
day. The lovely young woman put down his cup of coffee
and sticky donut and knelt to service his cock with
her mouth, throat and his testicles with her fingers
tips. McCoy closed his eyes when he came, both hands
buried in his girl’s curly hair. She licked him clean
and left quickly as he turned to look at his schedule.

After a morning meeting about the new mid-engined
sports car’s design, McCoy was thinking about whether
to horse one of the new hires before or after lunch
when his phone buzzed.

A strange voice said, “You want to know where yer
kid’s at, you gotta pay me ten thousand in gold.
Today. Interested?”

“No,” he said loudly and hung up. Then he wondered how
someone outside had known his private number. The
phone rang again.

“Now it will cost you twenty, twenty thousand, and I
mean now or it’s goodbye Elize; you’ll never see her
again in this life.”

McCoy said, “I’ll listen.”

Jethro Stevens smiled. He was sick of working for the
Stanleys and sick of being treated like a bondsman.
The girl was now in the stocks and two of his boys
were using her, one in her mouth and the other
sodomizing the youngster. The room was filled with the
sound of grunting and flesh smacking together.

“How do I know you’ve got her?” McCoy asked,
remembering that there had been several high-priced
kidnappings recently, in the last few years.

Jethro took his phone to the wooden stocks, pushed the
man away from her face and said, “Say hello to your
Daddy, slut.”

He held the phone out and Elize spat and said, “Help
me, Daddy, please help me I’m at…”

“Satisfied. Twenty thousand at noon downtown at
Security Trust. I’ll send a messenger. He’ll be
wearing a blue cap.”

Another of his boys stepped up to use Elize’s face as
Jethro listened to the man hem and haw.

“Listen McCoy,” Jethro said loudly, “last chance or I
ship her to the Magruders in New Orleans.” He named
the most famous brothel operator in the Confederacy.

“You know what twenty thousand in gold weighs?” McCoy
asked.

“I’ll take it in certificates,” Jethro said with a
smile as the man horsing the girl’s ass pulled out of
her and slapped her buttocks hard.

“Right, noon, blue hat,” McCoy said and hung up. He
quickly summoned his security chief and outlined the
problem. Together they set up a plan to follow the
messenger and find the girl.

After he climaxed in the girl, Jethro freed Elize from
the stocks and walked her down to the dock, ignoring
her tears and pleading. He pushed her out to the end,
lifted her chin and cut her throat. He dropped her
body into the fast flowing stream, rinsed the wide
blade and went back to dress for the money pick up.