Chained by Fate - Part 8
Droning hum of snoring and unconscious groans began to permeate the blackness of the night, as the girls gradually embrace the welcoming rest. Despite being bound in such an uncomfortable position on the cold hard ground, most of the girls didn't take too long before they fell asleep. Being so extorted our physical and mental energy to its last drop every day, losing sleep was not a luxury that we could afford.
Moreover, the overseers typically spread the girls at regular intervals at night, as far as the space permits. It was mainly to make it easier for them to visit each girl without bumping into another one, either for inspection or personal use. But it was also because the distance would make it difficult for the girls to talk with each other, even when there is no overseer to enforce the rule. Driven to exhaustion and forbidden to talk, most girls learn how to fall asleep as soon as their legs are drawn up and chained for the night.
"Are you sleeping?" a low, whispering voice of 4931 brought back my drifting mind to the unpleasant reality. Throbbing pain on my ravaged breasts and womanhood gradually returned with my consciousness. With our collars connected with a short chain, they placed us closer to each other than other girls.
"Please... We both need to sleep. Take some rest, and let's talk tomorrow, ok?" Trying to hide my irritation, I answered her with a tired voice.
"I am sorry."
"......"
I turned my face towards her, but I could not see her expressions. Dim lightbulbs sparsely hung along the power line were the only source of light in these underground tunnels. So you could not even see your own hands when they cut off the electricity.
"I am sorry that you suffered so much because of me," 4931 whispered in my direction with a soft but assuring voice, "I promise I will try not to make any more mistakes."
"It's ok. I get whipped like that all the time." I answered her casually, feigning indifference.
"I still don't believe I deserve this - no one deserves this, which includes you." 4931 took a deep breath and continued, "But I will try to be a good slave if it will save you from being punished for my foolish mistakes."
"That was... very sweet of you. Thanks."
We both remained silent for a while, listening to the cacophony of occasional grumblings and constant snoring of the unconscious girls.
Feeling her image changing its color to a somewhat less annoying shade in my mind, I subsequently broke the silence and asked, "Who are you?"
"I am cunt four-nine-..." she began to recite her numbers as if to prove her resolution.
"No, who are you, really?"
She fell silent again.
"Mixed breeds... sorry, those girls who have a white parent don't normally end up here without some serious defects, and you don't seem to have any." I pressed her for an answer. A fleeting image of her perfect milky white breasts flashed in my mind.
"And I've never seen any slave girl sent straight to this hell without even getting any training before. What horrible thing have you done to warrant all these things, really?" I wanted an answer to all the mysteries and intrigues I felt of her ever since I met her this morning.
"My name... is Barbara Moore." She answered as if she was confessing a murder.
"You mean like General Moore, 'The Savior' Moore?" I lifted my head in surprise. The chains connecting our necks rattled on the cold hard floor.
"Yes, he is... was my father." She replied calmly but with unmistakable sadness in her voice.
"I am sorry... And I'm sorry for what I said about your parents too."
"That's ok."
Once again, we returned to our respective reverie in darkness.
General Moore was a renowned general whom people once hailed as a national hero. When the United Asian Nations invaded our country and overwhelmed our unprepared frontline regiments, it was General Moore's brilliant strategy that saved the day. He managed to delay their army, which was marching to our capital, earning precious time for our main forces to mount a counter-attack. The feat earned him his nickname 'The Savior,' but his fame proved to be short-lived. After the war turned into a stalemate, he was condemned as a 'UAN conspirator' and suffered a public execution along with his wife just a few months ago.
Of course, we don't watch television or browse the internet when we are not too busy digging those coal deposits in chains. Still, his execution was such a big public event that I heard many overseers talking about it later. I don't know many details, but they said his 'Asian bitch' was a UAN agent who manipulated the general to sabotage our war effort.
I remember the overseers gathered in the Feeding Hall to watch a live stream of the execution. The general confessed that he negotiated with the enemy to help her wife return to UAN after she completed her mission. Video clips of their chopping off his male member, or of him forced to watch her naked wife getting gang-raped and brutally whipped on all her female parts before a cheering audience became viral both inside and outside this facility.
"Then, how did you become a slave?" I asked her my biggest question.
"I... I don't know. My father sent me to a boarding school in South Africa when things started to get worse here. I couldn't hear much news about the country since until they... they killed my father on TV." Her voice trembled and broke into a sob.
I wish my hands were free, so I could hold her and console her right now. But all I could do was wait for her to calm herself enough to continue her story.
"...So, I hurried to return home. But as soon as I landed at the airport, I was surrounded by soldiers, and they drugged me."
She finally gathered herself again to continue her story, "And when I woke up, I found myself completely naked with all my hair was gone. And to my horror, my breasts were branded with these strange numbers."
"I couldn't move because my hands and feet are tied behind my back, and couldn't scream as my mouth was gagged... gagged with my own underwear! It was the only clothes I was wearing before they kidnapped me that still remained on my body." She raised her voice in agitation as she relived her traumatic memory.
From what we had suffered together, it couldn't be her worst memory since she learned the cold embrace of iron around her neck. Nevertheless, it must be very painful to recall how she had fallen from a lovable daughter of a national hero to the lowest among the slave girls in such a short time.
"Please lower your voice, Barbara. You will wake other girls if you shout like that." I called 4931 by her name to calm her down.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Anyway, I think it was inside a truck that I found myself like that. When it stopped, the overseers came in and dragged me down to this place. The rest you already know." She let out a deep sigh.
"But why did you return at all? Wouldn't it be safe if you had remained in South Africa?"
"They didn't kill my mother, did they?"
"What do you mean? They showed it on TV that..."
"I know that! I know... I saw... what they did to my mother. But they didn't actually show how they killed my mother, Right?" She probably needed my assurance than opinion. So I remained silent.
I remembered the miserable wailings of her mother when I caught a glimpse of her video from an overseer's smartphone while I was working. The camera panned from her panic-stricken face to her naked body and then to the cheering audience. She was lying on a small block with her arms and legs stretched out by the firm hands of the soldiers on each side.
The host read a long list of the crimes this general's 'Asian bitch' committed against the country, as a soldier led a large muscular labrador to the stage. The camera lewdly zoomed upon the woman's crotch as they stretched her with their fingers for the glistening column of the beast. They split the screen in half to show both the general's and his wife's faces in one shot - one trembling white with anger, the other with unspeakable shame and fear.
The audience applauded and cheered as the beast finally began to hump her on its own. Subsequently, they began to blast the woman's breasts from each side with a lash, forcing her to gyrate her hip to match the beast's movements. With each new stripe and each assault on her ravaged body, she writhed, wailed in misery and pain.
I couldn't watch it anymore because I got my own stripes on my breasts soon, from the overseer who noticed my interest in his smartphone. But I believe that was the last moment of her torment they broadcasted on TV.
I almost wished her hope of seeing her mother would be in vain, being unable to imagine what they would have in store for her if they spared her life for even more torments. I didn't want to torture her by reminding her of what she must have seen herself.
"I don't know. I wasn't allowed to watch the execution. I'm a slave, you know."
"And, so am I, it seems." She said as if her new status created her a special bond with me.
"My mother, she would be a slave like us if she is alive. Wouldn't it?" She asked me warily.
"Probably, yeah. But I'm sorry. I don't want to give you any false hope, Barbara. If she became a slave, she would definitely be a D-graded one like us. And there are few places where an old D grade slave could last more than a month."
"What does the grade mean? And why are you sure she would get the D grade?"
"You surely don't know anything, do you?" I shook my head and sighed at her innocent ignorance.
"When I was young, I lived near a military camp where my father was deployed. I played with the kids from other military families. I was the only Asian kid in town, but they didn't say anything bad about it."
"Because you look like them, and your father was a superior officer to their parents?" I pointed her out the uncomfortable fact.
"Probably, yeah. I didn't think of it that way until now. But after the war broke out, my mother was no longer allowed to eat with us in the same restaurant. And that was when my father decided o send me off to South Africa. I don't know much about how things went here after that."
Traitor or not, General Moore must have been a great father for her. I felt pity that she had to lose her father in such a horrible way.
"Ok, I'll just tell you about the basics, so that you won't get us into trouble again."
"I'm listening."
I felt my throat was parched, so I rolled my tongue inside my mouth to collect saliva and swallowed. She has so much to learn.
"First and foremost, as a slave girl, we must show our absolute obedience and respect at all times to our owners."
"Who are our owners?"
"It depends. Most D-graded girls belong to a facility or the government itself. So we just regard all who work for this mine as our owners, and call them our 'Master.' But if you see a free man or woman from outside the facility, you can call them 'Sir' or 'Ma'am' respectively. Got it?"
"I think so. Even though I still don't feel it's ok to treat a person like she's a property."
"Barbara..." I shook my head and sighed in the darkness.
"Fine! I'm sorry. I can play a good slave if that is what's needed to survive. What are grades anyway?"
"There are four different classes of slaves here. And we are also expected to show our obedience and respect other slaves who have a higher grade than us."
"Like Raisin?"
"Yes, like Raisin. And pretty much everyone else, because we are the lowest among them."
"Why we got the lowest grade?"
"I have no idea why you didn't get a higher grade, Barbara. But in my case, I believe it was because I trace my ancestry to former Indonesia mostly. They say girls from those Polynesian regions have the most 'animal-like features' among the Chinks."
"That's a bad word! Why do you call yourself as that?" She raised her voice in protest.
"Would you feel better if you are called a 'cunt' instead? Chinks, Gooks, yellows, bitches, sluts, cunts, it doesn't matter. We are what our owners call us to be, and it's just that they see us mostly as monkeys here."
"So, it's all about ethnicity?"
"Not exactly. But for now, let's just say when you look like a Polynesian girl, you'll likely end up among the D-grade girls unless you look exceptionally pretty."
"But my mother's family came from former China. So why would she get a D grade?"
"It is because she is old, and also married to a convicted traitor." I felt guilty when I spoke my the last word.
"What happens when a higher grade slave gets old?"
"Only a few slaves have a chance to get old, Barbara. And if they do, they will eventually all become D-graders like us. Those D-grade facilities are where they dump all the useless girls to dispose of them. It's mostly mines, quarries, or construction sites that buy those disposable girls and grind them until they die."
"That is cruel!" Barbara protested.
"But when you get the D grade, you are no longer considered a human being and totally disposable. So our owners won't even give you medicine if you collapse at work. It'll be cheaper for them to get another D girl than to waste those pills on an under-producing slave."
"I don't like it at all. But what about other grades? Raisin was a C grade girl, right?"
"Right. But, listen, Barb. We really need to sleep and save our strength for tomorrow." I blinked my heavy eyelids and replied warily.
"Alright. But I think I need to pee."
"I'll teach you that tomorrow. But if you are full, you can just relieve now."
"What? It's gross! What if it flows to other girls?" Barbara objected in shock.
"They won't care, and soon you wouldn't too. Believe me. It's much better to relieve at night than in front of an overseer. Just arch your back a bit so you won't hit your own face."
"Why do I have to do that in front of them?"
"Because you need permission for everything when you are a D-grade girl."
"Still, that's gross."
"All girls do it because it will dry up in the morning, so the overseers will never know."
"I'll just try to sleep then."
"Ok, then I'll teach you how to beg for permission to relieve tomorrow. Good night, Barb."
"Good night."
I heard rustling noise of her chains dragging over the ground. Barbara probably was constantly shifting her body in a vain hope to find a bit more comfortable spot to sleep. Every girl experiences such difficulty at first, sleeping while chained like an upturned turtle and pressing her bare naked back upon the ragged stone floor. But soon, they cease to care, like how they come to see peeing naked in front of men as an ordinary part of their lives.
Suddenly, the clanking noise of the chains stopped, and Barbara's voice reached my ears through the darkness.
"What is your name?"
"It's two-seven-six-three. You can read it from my breast, you know."
"No, I mean your really name."
"...It's Siss. Weird, is it?" I hesitated a bit before I answered. It felt so weird to pronounce my name after so many years.
"I like it. It sounds like 'sis,' and I always wanted to have a big sister." Barbara replied, almost happily.
"We really need to sleep now, Barb."
"Ok. Good night, Siss."
"Good night, Barb."
Soon, I heard a hesitant stream shyly splashing on the ground nearby. I closed my eyes and smiled faintly in the darkness, probably the first time since I have worn my collar.
(To be continued...)
. I have stories in which white girls are abused by Asians and Africans (who do the same and worse to their own people) and ones in which girls of a variety of races are abused by whites. The common element, I suppose, is that the abusers are rich and powerful or are employed or manipulated by rich and powerful men. It is the power dynamic that is the most interesting I think.
