In our time war was local, savage and for individuals meaningful or the end of meaning. Between the two towns was 40 miles of tangled forest, roads had once crisscrossed the whole area, but now only a railroad line went along the northern boundary of the fighting zone. All the warfare was voluntary, and between men. The game had existed over 500 years when I was age 15. Often National Forest areas, or desert regions were the places of combat. Every state had several, but in Florida we had one big one.
Men who chose to fight could go to the fighting area. Peace was supposed to be king elsewhere, but few things work perfectly.
The weapons were guns, rifles or pistols. No machine guns or tank stoppers. The people who wrote about ‘the games’ pictured one man against another man –the winner could see better, or was a bit quicker. It was all about man against man, and the winner takes all the women, and everything else valuable. The fittest would survive. Each area in America had its traditions but the warfare between Gainesville and Ocala was hats (Gainesville) against no hats (Ocala). We all looked about the same, and came from the same tradition, even the hat thing was forgotten and died out in the first 20 years.
We all went to school and learned our traditions, and saved our fighting for the 40 miles between. There were air flights over the fighting zone, but no pictures were allowed taken. It was sort of sacred zone of masculinity. It really didn’t matter who won each fight, no one escaped but the winners, and no one believed fishermen who ate big fish or people who killed other people.. All farming was away from the battle zones
Ocala was the modern state center of Florida and the legislative of the state. It had about 200,000 people. Gainesville was the place of the most ancient university — maybe 3000 years old, and when school was in session 400,000 people lived there. About half the population was students, and they came from all over the world.
The ancient fight between the Central Florida cities had many rules that were strictly enforced by tradition. It was dishonorable to break any, or admit you did.
(1) Rifles and pistols only (Most fighters carried both –like I did.)
(2) You had to carry a city card with picture ID (there were no policemen who asked to see city cards, but I never killed anyone who didn’t have one. I carried mine and all those I had recently killed.
(3) Hunters can travel in groups or as individuals. Many groups of cowards travel between cities as bunches or like troops. There is not safety in numbers in the Cities game. I have picked off groups of 20, usually shooting a few screamers as they ran away. I shot them in the back. Mostly they threw their weapons away and run any way at all thru the woods. Sometimes I shoot the last guy in a leg, and while he bleeds I ask him about his wives and daughters. I calm them by telling some story of hope, I make up new crap each time. No I tell them I’m not going to kill you. “Would you like to be my slave?’ One man told me the detailed directions to his house in Eureka before I shot him between the eyes. Of course no one enslaves someone in the forest. Most killings happen on the way out. I’ve killed some just as they stepped into the death zone. One step too far, and zap. Groups of 100 or more become mobs and in the disorder shoot each other. I’ve killed young guys that had 50 ID cards from their own town. Everything in their pockets is mine as being the last, final hunter to collect.
(4) No dogs or animals of any kind are allowed including pack animals as carriers of gear. It’s OK to use slaves, because slaves are property. But slaves are often noisy. Just a cough, fart or a kicked rock can get you a bullet in ‘the zone’. I carry my own stuff.
(5) No night vision goggles. This is so totally ignored, that doing without them would be like suicide. That rule is the hunters biggest joke.
My father and grandfather were both professional hunters. There were ads in the Ocala Star-Banner and Gainesville Sun for ‘guides’ or ‘hunters’. But as I said before lots of these groups got killed. It was not like a Boy or Girl Scout campout. Corporate hunts were often murder fests. In the night rivals killed those they hated. I know of a few clearings in the forest where 50 or 100 tents were put up the sleep in, and there was no one left to take down or put away the gear. If someone wanted to risk their life to take gold teeth out of the dead, they could maybe get rich, or maybe live for about 5 minutes around a group of tents. Most hunters kill at night.
Often the big fights are in daylight around lakes like Orange Lake. Human bones are piled around that lake. Groups of several hundred meet. Sometimes the ID’s of the dead are sold in newspaper classified ads and 50 bloody ID’s might be worth 100,000 credits or little or nothing. Sometimes the person’s property would find out about his death and run away.
The great thing about the cities-games was (it is said) is that no revenge comes out of killing. Men are just fighting –as men do for women and power. People are about the same in Ocala and Gainesville, and they are really fighting just for money and sex. No hard feelings, if your dead, well then goodbye and sleep forever. Generally people were about the same in Gainesville and Ocala, and the fights made them more alike. The only glaring difference was the population in Gainesville was younger. Ocala fighters often had a state senator in them and lots of college students would fight to get ahead in life.
My first fight was at age 15 with my father I went to school, but also trained for the profession since age 12. It meant walking 10 miles every day, staying up most nights, and lots of practice shooting.
Father and I were dressed like trees, so we could stand next to a tree and look part of it. Father had seen a newspaper ad about a group hunt for professionals and called claiming to be a local dentist. I heard the call and he said, “I want to get out and meet other people my age in the medical field.”
The cost of the hunt was 150 credits for the weekend, including food, a rifle and unlimited ammo. The tour and hunt were going to be on the fringe of the hunting area starting on the Gainesville side, near the city or Melrose and Newberry Florida. Dad said, “They want to get excited walking in dangerous woods without any real danger. Who really knows if any of them can even shoot a rifle?”
We found them Friday night when they set up camp. Dad and I didn’t talk, but we slipped around them and watched or slept in 4 hour shifts. They would have been killed in their sleeping bags, but they were not yet in the legal forest, but were close in a private tree preserve. It would have been technical murder until they walked about 300 yards south. I didn’t think anyone would know, but dad was a stickler for doing things in the right place.
There were 14 of them. Twelve in the group of medical professionals, then the guide and his slave helper. The helper carried a tray of ammo strapped to his back. We were behind them and well into the hunting area when dad gave the hand motion to fire. They were all walking thru a clearing where a big tree was down. The first volley killed 6, we were rather close and we got some great head shots, like POP then THUD as the bodies hit ground. No screaming wounded
The guide I shot first, then for maybe 15 minutes after the gunfire stopped they were hid completely. They had to be on their bellies, and one was crying.
Then one sort of gruff voice said, “Can we give up?”
“Sure,” dad said, “throw your guns over the tree, with your ammo.”
They seemed to do it and then dad said, “Now if you have pistols or knives throw those over.” Another bunch of things were thrown out across the big tree. The fellow who was crying kept crying.
“Don’t move fast,” dad said, “but all of you stand up and drop your pants.”
They all did and dad said, “Now that you all are hobbled by your pants walk out around the tree,” The biggest guy was still crying and they did come around the tree. “Why are you crying like a little girl?” dad said.
“Because”, the big man said, “by the rules of hunting your going to kill us.”
“Out here we make our own laws.” dad said, “So how many of you agree to become slaves for life if I don’t kill you?”
“How many of you slaves beg to be castrated and to suck my dick?”
All the hands went up again and dad said, “Shoot them all but the small one with the duck shirt on.”
They tried to run with their pants at their feet, except for the small one with the shirt.
After all were dead but the duck shirt guy he said, “Master I’m a doctor and if you give me a knife I will castrate myself.”
“No take off your shirt and give it to my son.” It was a bright yellow shirt with heavy brown flying ducks on it.
“Yes at once master.” he said and when I got it dad shot him in the head.
“It was too nice a shirt to ruin,” dad said.
We retrieved all the ID cards and took the money and jewelry from the dead men. Then dad had a waterproof bag that we buried the guns and ammo in and a noise flasher that could be turned on when someone was sent out to retrieve them.
Then we went into Melrose and ate at the MoMoo Cafe and waited for the Gainesville train. We bought new clothes at the Melrose Habdashry and I got some Premium George W Boots that fit like condoms, the bloody clothes we mailed back home. Tree clothes are expensive items.
From the train station in Gainesville we rented a car and went to Adventures.com owned by Dennis Baxley, and now that operation was owned by dad and I. A beautiful blond was sitting in a small ground floor office filing her nails, when we walked in. She was sitting on a high stool above the counter, so you could see her tight skirt and beautiful legs. She was the focus in that office, a knockout.
“Hi gentlemen, life is an adventure starting here!” she said in about the most sexy voice I’ve heard since buying all the ancient Marilyn Monroe movies.
“Who are you dear, the owner? Dad said.
“Oh my no sir. I’m Janice and I arrange adventures. The owner Mr. Baxley is out on one of his weekly adventure trips.” She said everything in an excited way, just like Marilyn. There was something about her words and sexy breathing. I think I would have just liked to listen to her breath. I also liked the way she moved around when she talked.
“Does Mr. Bagley live here in Gainesville?” Dad said.
“Oh yes sir, he goes camping and on tour with groups every weekend. This weekend he took medical doctors, important people want a weekend in the wilderness with an expert. Dennis was a behind the lines U.S Coast Army Ranger before he started his business. He has valor metals, I’ve seen them.”
“So in your opinion the trips are safe? Dad asked.
“I’m not supposed to say ‘safe’, but they are exciting. Some of his clients have written books about his shoots.”
“How many wives and children does Dennis have?” dad said to her.
“He’s not married yet. He owns this store and lives right up overhead in an apartment when he’s home.
“With slave girls or boys?”
“He wouldn’t want me tell personal things about him.”
“My son and I just like to know if a man pumps boy ass or girl pussy?”
“He likes girls sir, but plenty of nice gentlemen go on adventures who have beautiful boys as sex partners.”
“You can gage how successful a man is by the quality of women he owns. How many women does Dennis own?”
“Dennis is really a go-getter and will get more, but now he has one general use woman who cleans and cooks upstairs and me. I was indentured when I got this job, but he will marry me when I produce a child — male or female.”
“You just came in an applied for a job?”
“Not exactly, my father thought this kind of job would be an opportunity for me, and he worked out the deal with Dennis.”
“How much did Dennis pay your father for you?”
” I think about 50 credits. I’m not totally sure. But marriage is mentioned in the contract.”
“I’m sure it is. It probably also says ‘Life Indenture’. Did you even sign the contract?”
“No sir, my father signed it. I was not considered by law an adult when the indenture was sold.”
“You went to high school in Gainesville Janice?”
“Yes sir –Gainesville High and graduated in the top 100.”
“What number?”
“ninety-two.”
“Good did you learn about the cities-game?”
“Yes of course, our adventure is about that.”
“Can you briefly explain what they taught you about the inter-city game?”
“Well men are violent by nature and once upon a time Americans went to foreign countries and fought wars against enemies.
Some were real dangers and others were made up so we could build new weapons or just fight. Several strategies were worked out to end war. One way was widespread slavery. If one man owns the other he is apt to neuter his slave man. That makes men less violent, and aggressive. With the majority of men and women being owned, then there is more control in the world and less death and destruction.
Then at some times in history towns of about the same size and importance were rivals of one another. LIke Rome and Carthage in almost pre-historic times. In that case they fought each in several wars called Punic Wars. I don’t know why exactly they were called that, maybe because war itself is a puny activity a bummer? So anyway Rome wiped out Carthage (those were the Phoenicians who were great sailors. The Romans enslaved all the Phoenicians and even spread salt on the ground where the city once stood so that nothing would even grow there again.
So war games were set up here, and elsewhere in the U.S. for testosterone filled males. In our case it’s the area of 40 miles between Ocala and Gainesville that became the ‘forbidden Forest’ where individuals or groups go to kill one another. People can still travel back and forth using planes and trains, but if they wander into the zone by mistake they become fair game for killing.
The magic of the zone is that in itself it a Darwinian survival-of-the-fittest situation. It is always a kill or be killed place. It consists of 10′s of thousands of acres of trees. The Independent Florida Alligator a free University of Florida newspaper printed last year that 30 to 35 thousand men were known to have been killed in the zone, and at least 700 women and 2000 children. Most of the women and children were slaves and shot along with the men. It is a danger to a man’s life to try to bring slaves out in the zone, so most are killed.
The novel thing about this continued war is that now it’s no longer a clash between cities, but a method to redistribute wealth. If one of our doctors, this weekend kills a millionaire builder he gets the fortune of the builder. If he’s from Gainesville, but the builder owns a mansion in Orlando he can move into the mansion and the man’s fortune is now his fortune. So cities don’t matter much –it’s not where your from, but what you can get when you kill.
If a guy is killed from Ocala and he has a better house and cars than your place in Gainesville then the winner can move to Ocala and have his stuff sold in Gainesville. Some men only fight one time, strike it big and quit. Other men revel in killing and belong to clubs, like former Veterans of Foreign War groups.”
“Well I think she understands it dad,” I said.
“Yes I do. It’s what I do for a living.” she said.
“So Janice,” dad said, putting the picture ID of Dennis Baxter on the counter, with a smuuge or two of blood on it, “I guess you know what our possession of your masters card means?”
“Ahh!” she said, with her mouth open and then the sounds were muffled as both her hands went over her mouth.
“Back to now Janice, bring us the records of this ‘adventure’. Is it on the computer? Or some index cards?”
She reached over by the computer and lifted out a pile of cards. Then her hand went back over her mouth.
Dad was looking at the cards of the dead men and said, “The adventure is not over till Monday night so Franklin you and I can get comfortable here and after we eat you can have Janice and I’ll enjoy the housekeeper/cook. What’s the other pussy’s name Janice?”
“Veronica master,”
“Can you call upstairs and have her come down?”
Janice pushed a button on the wall and said, “Come down here right now!”
“I’m not dressed to be in the store.” Came the voice back. As usual I’m working in a two piece bathing suit.”
“Come like that, right now!”
“OK, you are left in charge, not me.”
About 2 minutes later a big girl, maybe six feet 2 inches came out of what looked like a closet, which was a stair case.
“Oh god Janice, you’ve got customers down here!”
“Dennis is dead, these are our new masters.” Janice said.
“Did you tell them who I am?”
“The cook and drudge slave named Veronica. Franklin, the son wanted me and his father is going to screw you.”
“Well that’s true Janice, but Franklin will get both of you because he’s the one who shot Dennis, right in the back of the head as he was scampering to hide.”
Well who knows who shot the guide. I just fired at the group and some fell screaming. There was no return fire, it was like a bunch of worms trying to escape a fishing hook. Around slaves dad always tells half-truths, or bold lies. He says, ‘Slaves are inferior beings and their existence is scary, it is the masters duty to scare him more.’ I can see some deep truth in that, and it seems to work well.
Veronica was very exciting looking in a two piece skimpy bathing suit. Dad went right up to her and pulled the suit bottom right off. “Oh thank you for choosing me great master!” Veronica said as she wiggled her bottom like saying, ‘I’m so excited.’
I glanced out the plate-glass windows and several people were standing on the street looking in. I guess it’s not every day a sexy model type is stripped in a public store. I have seen utility type worker women with rope tied neck to neck led naked down the streets in Ocala and Gainesville, but good-looking women like Veronica are usually pussy and tit covered.
“Franklin,” dad said, “Lets go upstairs and have a nice meal and then claim the spoils of war by doing some animal up and down.”
“I think I’ll have Janice behind the counter on the floor. With the door locked we won’t be bothered.”
“The floor is so hard master!” Janice said and I pinched her left tit. She wasn’t wearing any kind of push up bra. Under the light cloth it was just Janice. I pointed to the floor, some girls learn quickly. I was just 15 but I had experiences at school with 2 girls and at home with a slave of my mothers.
Janice was better looking than any of the others, by far, very best so far. Once I got mounted and inside she seemed far less eager than my school girls and mothers slave, so I said, “Did Dennis ever punish you and Veronica?”
“Sometimes.”
“How did he do it?”
“Chained us up in uncomfortable ways.”
“Left you hanging on a wall?”
“More Veronica than me.”
“She better tell the same stories.”
“Well he whipped me and used the yoke on me. Do you know what a yoke is master?”
“Yes it stretches out a slave’s arms and locks the hands spread wide out.”
“Yes and mostly he whipped or yoked me because I kept reminding him about saying he would marry me. I even got punished when I told Veronica and she said it to him.”
“Is this the way you screwed with him?”
“About the same. Why?”
“Well you showed little enthusiasm. I’ve screwed before and girls are not corpses! You screw like a dead person.”
“Well I barely know you. You killed Dennis and this floor is hard on my back. Little pebbles or tiny rocks are cutting my back. I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong, give me a chance to improve please.”
“Sure you need to improve. I think I’ll be staying in Gainesville and for sure you will need to do as well as Veronica. Maybe I’ll be getting a few other pussies out of the doctors daughters and wives.”
“I can do better I was a virgin when I came to Dennis. Your only my 2nd man. He never told me I did anything wrong with fucking.”
I was laying on top of her, “So if he paid 50 credits for you — and that’s a huge price. Beautiful girls like you often sell for 20 credits. I read the newspapers, and look at offerings on television. I’ll bet he checked you naked before he paid that kind of big money.”
“Yes master, I didn’t want to say that.”
“So tell me the story of you before sale, inspection.”
“My father was planning to more to Hawaii and I just graduated from school, and my sister Rita was going into 11th grade — 6 months ago.”
“That’s how long he’s owned you?”
“Six months, well they didn’t want to take daughters to the new home. He had 3 wives, and 2 sons. The sons were not by my mother. So he ran a shopper ad and Dennis responded. My sister, father and I met at Crooks on University Avenue with Dennis Baxley and we all had hamburgers. It’s about the only restaurant in Hog City with a ‘fuck room’ for feeling up or trying out slaves. Dennis was nice to me after I got naked, but with Rita he was crude and rough and kept saying she was not a virgin and she kept telling him she was. Dennis even ordered me to feel her, and she wasn’t one. Dennis said, “It’s like using another man’s dirty spoon.” Well that got Rita flaming mad. Rita was age 16 (still is) .
“You were at the sale and know exactly how much cash was paid for you. Where is Rita?”
“She’s rented out to a boy who was a friend of Dennis. His name is Daniel Brodrick.”
“How much rent does the man pay?”
“It’s supposed to be one credit per month, but I never saw money exchange hands.”
“So why doesn’t Brodrick pay what’s due?”
“He has a sort of arrangement with Daniel. From what I was told by Dennis, well Daniel is not entirely free.”
“There is no such thing as part slave.” I said.
“Daniel says, ‘I signed a ten-year indenture to stay in school,’ so I guess he’s like a slave until the time runs out on his indenture. It’s not a ‘indenture for life’, like my father signed.”
“In my high school civics class the lesson was, ‘Once a slave always a slave.’”
“You mean Dennis couldn’t free me and marry me?”
“Well he could have married you, but by law you would have been a slave wife. You couldn’t divorce him and take the kids because you and the kids would technically be his property.”
I had been talking and my plunger weapon was soft and she said, “Can’t we let me do better later master and..”
Just then the door was knocked on. Three thuds and three hard smacks. Two different sounds.
“Thats the way Daniel knocks.”
“What would he want?”
“Probably somebody upstairs switched off his outside lights. He’s always studying on Sunday and his apartment is behind the store.”
I got up and unlocked the door saying, “You must be Daniel Brodrick?”
“Sure am, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Franklin Pierce and I killed Dennis Baxley in the inter city games.”
“Where’s Janice?”
“She’s behind the counter where I was fucking her.”
“That’s right Daniel,” came Janice’s voice, “This is our new master”
“I just have a school tuition indenture, I’m to pay it back in payments.”
“I’ve seen lots of indentures and they all specify obedience and being humble.”
“For crying out loud I just found out!”
“So come in the office and do the things slaves do with masters.”
Daniel looked like a big boy, not strong but maybe he weighed 270 pounds, and he was tall. I weighed 120 and was rather short. Daniel came in and stood by the door.
“Did you see the ID Janice?” Daniel said, not looking at me, but down at the floor a sort of slave like pose.
“Yes and his father said he shot Dennis in the back of his head. There were smudges of blood on the ID. Franklin owns this place now.”
“Well he’s just a boy. I signed my indenture with a grown man who had been in the military and was a master. This is only a boy!”
“His father is upstairs, but even little kids sometimes own a slave.”
“I didn’t see the ID myself yet!” Daniel said with the door now cracked open a very little.
“Either get in here this instant and lick my boots or expect to be whipped and branded.” I said in a gruff tone. Dad first said to new slaves, ‘Drop your pants, or with women he would rip off an essential garment. He got their attention. I should have done that first.
Well the door shut behind Daniel and he went running down the street.
“He’s got a crazy streak,” Janice said as I watched him turn the corner out os sight. He had turned 2 blocks from the store. I went back in the store.
“He’s ran away I imagine?” Janice said, “once Dennis threatened him and he ran away, but was back the next morning. Dennis had sex with him more often than with me. Now that’s an insult the way I see it.”
“What did Dennis threaten?”
“Ten licks, and he came in the next day and bent over for the licks.”
“Well a brand is permanent.”
“He might try to steal Rita, and sell her to raise money for a giveaway.” Janice said.
Janice was dressed by the time of Daniel’s escape so she got a bunch of keys and we went around the building to a little metal building with one window. I think it was meant to be a homeowners utility shed. Janice began trying the various keys and said, “Master I never go outside the store Dennis didn’t allow Veronica or I to leave the building. I haven’t seen Rita since he rented her to Daniel. I saw Daniel every weekday because he came so Dennis could screw his ass –sometimes in the bed, but often bent over a chair or a kitchen cabinet.”
“Were you in the room or Veronica when he did Daniel?”
“Yes, Dennis told Veronica and I, ‘Female slaves are just sperm catchers. It takes a strong male tongue to satisfy a real master. In the Army Coast Guard I had 3 boys who took turns between my legs. I think a life at sea makes for strong tongues.’ He expected us to watch Daniel and learn his sucking techniques. He even had a book of tongue exercises that Veronica and I were to practice. Rita did our nightly exercises until she was rented to Daniel.”
I never saw so many keys that didn’t work, and Janice was not sure about what any of them opened.
Rita was blond like her sister Janice, and Janice was beautiful, but Rita was better by far. I was 15 and boys my age are experts on levels of beauty in girls, our eyes can peer into any bunch of them and instantly gauge: good, better and best. Rita was what I would call a constant ‘hard-on’. Never before had I viewed a girl so well-formed and sexy as Rita. She was dressed only in panties and quickly pulled a sheet over her semi-nakedness. “And who is the boy Janice?” she said as I closed the door. She was sitting on the bed and jerked the sheet around her. My glimpse was only a few seconds and there was one bare light bulb in the room, but I was thrilled by being near such a marvelous creature.
“This is our new master Rita, he killed Dennis in the Cities-game. His name is Franklin Pierce and Daniel ran away –down the street instead of bowing to him and licking his boots.”
“Daniel will be back. Remember sis he ran away before and came back.”
“Well this time he doesn’t get you back!” I said, “You belong to me!”
“You may not want me sir, I’m not very pure. I’m about used up.”
“How’s that Rita?” I said.
“When Dennis brought back his adventure groups of men, they lined up at the shed door. Daniel stood right inside and timed each fuck session with me. They each got 15 minutes, and not a smidgen more. Sometimes 20 men mounted and rode me in one afternoon. Most of them called it, ” Our little Rita treat.’
For those who really didn’t care for girls they got Daniel’s upturned ass to ride. Some opted for doing us both –there was no extra charge. We were both owned by the excursion.”
“You really didn’t need to tell our new master all that sis.” Janice told her
“At least so far I’ve kept a good shape don’t you think master?” Rita said and pulled the shift off, “they don’t feed the fuck animal much. I dream every day about ice cream, cheese and chocolates. The three C’s of being fat.
I’m on a chain, Dennis called me a ‘fuck monkey’ She shook the metal circle around her left foot and we saw the metal circle around her left foot and we also saw the chain was locked to a metal hoop in the floor.
Janice came over and whispered in my ear as Rita stood beside the bed and with a big smile and was giving a little hoochie-coochie dance with little on, “Master,” Janice whispered, “she seems just a bit crazy, maybe you should walk her back to the store with a chain locked between her legs so she can’t run away. I think she might try. She’s crazier than Daniel!”
I did as suggested with Rita dressed in Daniel’s coat. The shed had no clothes for Rita. She was kept naked. I led her leashed back to the office and 3 people were standing by the office door who wanted information about, ‘the adventures’. One was a woman in very high heels who said, “My husband is always talking about getting rich by shooting a few men.”
I told them all, “ The office is closed because of a death in the firm.”
The woman said, “You should put a wreath on the door. People don’t want to wait around for nothing!”
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Your comments are welcome. Leave your ideas here, or write me (Ray Cates) at rcates2@cox.net
Some other stories by the same author are: http://maybekillyou.wordpress.com http://missymurder.wordpress.com http://yestobe.wordpress.com http://makingaterrorist.wordpress.com http://aaj7.wordpress.com http://kidsgovote.wordpress.com http://floridabadgirl.wordpress.com http://shirleyjones.wordpress.com http://bigblackmole.wordpress.com http://freedorm.wordpress.com http://5cow.wordpress.com http://daisyorfems.wordpress.com http://amazinggeorge.wordpress.com
