That Waiting Boodle

Sometime back he landed a job editing for a woman that he knew. A filmmaker in her own right, the woman had many segments to be changed in terms of the level of contrast. Darkened according to the requirements of post-production or who knew what. The unexpected irony of the job was whenever one modified the frame it wouldn’t darken the frame but instead change the demeanor of the characters within it? It would also then affect a poster that he had been working on downtown that was being transferred to wall art. The female artist noticing this change splayed all over the finished brick wall as he finished it. The experience convincing me to accompany another of his peripheral lady friends of his to venture up to Canada in order to chase UFO’s. He accompanied this friend into the forest being told all the way that there will be some stuff to see. Having retired in the evening he awoke to experience his own urgent need to defecate. Then pulling down his sleeping bag only to find to his horror that he had shit himself now covered from the waist down in his own crap.

Decades later, he now lived in L.A. with a son that worked in his own movie that he produced and as a professional armorer to other films in the movie industry. The first scene of his own production utilizing an old water cooled Browning heavy machine gun that had been completely disassembled and spread out upon the studio’s floor. The man arriving on the scene before his son encountering an assistant. The smart aleck responding to the father’s request to do something pointing at the plethora of parts and quipping, “Put that together!” He walked around the ‘bazillion’ parts carefully taking in their relative configuration then turning to the smirk Alec replying, “No I can’t!“, then turning to say, “But there are other parts here about that I am responsible for putting together, including my son who is your boss!” The old man smirking at the chastened young man adding, “That I can do! I know my son.”

His next most recent exploit had him stuck on the outskirts of a desert town in broad daylight. The inside of the car that he had purchased the previous year was dirty as hell. Otherwise, it was empty of anything, luggage, gold clubs, and the whole bit. The damn thing just sat there as he pumped the gas. It wouldn’t turn over, even though he had mentally gone over all the possible causes. After some time he realized what he thought was wrong with it turned out to not be not what was wrong with it at all. The starter would turn but the motor just wouldn’t catch. It just sat there behind the wheel unmoving until a tow truck happened by. He got a job on a work detail that was not much different than that of a prison work detail but without the leg chains. The task at hand consisted of breaking up natural limestone formations using a bucket of vinegar and forcefully applying a claw ended crow bar. It turned out to everyone’s surprise that he was exceptional to the task of fracturing stone finishing his section long before the others. The end of the day being given due verbal credit for the same.

Now back at home, it was late. Very late! Or rather it was early just before the arrival of the Sun’s rise. He lay in the bed nursing his aches and pains. Some that seemed to be newly discovered along with others that were old enemies of that now false impression of persistent youth that would come at night to plague him. Sleep was intermittent. It was hard to get more than an hour or more uninterrupted of rest before being awakened. That nightly contest between failing bowel and bladder vying for attention. Or now increasingly the climax of a fantastic nightmare that saw him bail out back into that consistent waking dream of ongoing linear existence. The passing impressions then quickly desiccating into vague dissembled imagery that left him only the creaks and moans of the structure around him. Quick little painful incidents not unlike those other in command of his own material embodiment. The basket woven about him signifying that things were possibly coming to an end.

This place that he called home was far out of joint. A shaky tower of yesteryear’s imagination overbuilt of slab construction weighing heavily upon an insubstantial foundation. This twenty plus stories sinking more each year into a relatively insubstantial firmament of clay. The floor on his level canting here and sliding a bit off plumb there. It had become apparent to the eye and feel that the ‘new’ kitchen that had been installed some twenty years previous was now visibly on a cant. The stove tilting forward leading edge below the from of the counter. The dips and peaks of simply walking down the common hallway from the elevators suggesting the elastic nature of the structural concrete. The marked fall of the perimeter of the outer walls out of sync with the core suggesting a slow form of eventual destruction that if left unheeded might result in being caught in a future collapse.

The building had been overbuilt some ten stories past what had been initially planned on paper. Nine stories now extended to twenty creaking and moaning some sixty years after the fact. The developer loading his bank account with the further revenue that the additional stories produced. Then dumping it in the condo craze that suddenly blossomed the second decade after its construction. The municipality inbred from long association with career grifters ever read to turn a quick profit on the misery of others turning a blind eye to this scam. No doubt after receiving some form of tribute acknowledging their cut. Those once active players now unreachable to be held to account on the fact of their presently all now being food for the worms. That long season of death was upon him. The death of his parents at the beginning of the decade culminating as of late with the passing of his aunt and another peripheral member of his extended family. He was running out of the possibility of offering an active past by way of those still living that could verify the beginnings of his own existence. The death of the world that presently defined him now at hand.

His station in society now transformed into something beyond his own recognition. Though still stable enough to provide moderate comfort and security enough for his growing infirmities. The general impression spread over all through the specious nature of the news of the day being a further burden of having to contend with the universal institution of a bombardment by the latest communication technology of a type of radar waves that were said by some to degrade the human organism over time. The constant broadcasting and simultaneous monitoring of humanity as a whole more important than maintaining its continued existence. The most evident affect of this shifting form of environment being up a muddying up of personal consciousness. The inability to postulate one’s own without some form of external prompting. The other side affects being aches and pains that were similar to those that he was currently experiencing. This making it hard to operate in that old sense of conventionality. He lay there counting the intervals between one moment and another his consciousness diverted from his leg twitching to an unaccustomed stiffness in his arm. The dull constant pain near the patella of his knee signifying a problem with circulation. The question of his own final collapse was at hand. It seemed imminent.

Earlier in the evening he had gone to the washroom and fumbled some aspirin out of the cabinet and taken a couple of tabs. The effect of the medication seeming to after so many minutes relieve the fogginess in his head. The sensation masking another symptom of the storm cloud of a lurking headache just below the horizon of his active consciousness. Advancing age and a nightly grinding from anxious sleep had left his teeth in the back of his mouth actively crumbled. Had he retained any of his former wealth it might have presented a dentist’s paradise! Was the sum total of both interior and exterior conspiring in some form of cosmic sympathy to inform him that his own time was coming to a close? His eyes now closed staring at the ceiling through the coverlet of the flesh of his eyelids searching for something past the furtive shadows from street traffic passing far below. Scenarios forming upon this darkened stage before him showing that one fatal moment when an unexpected collapse of his corner building would fall apart around him.

And what, by God’s grace if provided a few moments to plot an escape, he would choose to grab? Something potent with past memories? His imagination painting himself attempting to wend his way through collapsing stone and broken concrete. Perhaps with an unaccustomed degree of physical effort getting down to the outboard patio on the fifth floor and hurling himself over the parapet to the section of roof of the strip mall just adjacent? Then with bruised ankles limping to the furthest extension of same far away from his building’s collapse. The inertia of his animal fear without the persistence of reason causing himself to once again jump to the asphalt of the parking lot and maybe do his limbs further damage. The final result being a broken ankle or worse? Now free of danger turning back to see his former home’s twenty story’s sloughed and off kilter at half their former height, many floors now fully pancaked one upon the other. These static musings causing him to wonder if in such a scenario if he would have enough energy and vitality to accomplish this stunt? Could he even climb over that last two story wall extending himself by the grip of his hands hanging from its parapet and dropping to the ground below?

The conclusion of this mental narrative leaving him there stirred from rest half naked gripping a small valise overstuffed with remained of his mortal possessions wondering what future was left to be enjoyed. There eventually to be discovered by the appointed rescuers accordingly to their assigned tasks. What if that small bag was found missing after regaining consciousness int he hospital. That small automatic now missing that had been his constant bedmate comforting him for decades that his rest would not be interrupted by some untoward aggression by parties unknown. Would it have been taken away with all the other remnants of his newly severed past? That only final heirloom bespeaking a solitary habit that he would hope had been rescued from before. This new society disarming that former right to, “Repeal all borders!” The many discs and papers that formed some continuity with the present now in the collective heap of what was now off limits to all save workers conveying it to a landfill. The mandatory transfer of his own body and should to this hospital vouchsafing that they would be permanently beyond his reach. The local hegemony of bureaucrats grabbing whatever could be salvaged now gleaned further down the line for the benefit of their own new communal society at large. And he now left, Table Raza, for the remainder of his life. Bereft of the possibility of raising any sort of evidence that a former past pertaining directly to him had once existed. In that uncertain amount of time left would he walk about in those final years, or months, bereft of any motivation to summon the will to survive? And empty personality just waiting for his own death. Now completely stripped of possibility by a society that had descended like a cloud causing all for reasons of changing politics to forget. One could only wonder?

He had read articles over the last several years about a device that had been created under the excuse of the banner of scientific exploration for changing the gravitation of a small section of the the earth. Supposedly implemented at an unprecedented fantastic cost to investigate the origins of the perceivable universe. The mode of logic employed by their collective not unlike that of a newly blinded person in a dark room. Lost for the blinding light of day on so many issues of going so far as to endanger all collective life and limb. This soluble madness of hubris dampening all reason of these megalomaniacs that used that excuse to sally forth down a darker path. The analogy carried further seeing this same individual striking a match in the midst of a bunker full of gunpowder expecting to discover the source of some sunlight. Mankind had been like that for some time having degenerated into a false sense of mounting sophistication that did nothing more than produce an additional burden upon the firmament of this thoughts. These contradiction of logic posing as solid truths in fact being willful superstitions presented as science for the sake of a hegemony fearful of losing control. The gelatin-like substance filling the brain case behind these thoughts now being slowly microwaved. The solidity of their dogmas as malleable as the Jello gelatin-like reason governing the long checkered past of failures endured by all. An active folly posed in unquestioned amalgam of old laws of thermodynamics demanding that every action beg and equal and opposite reaction. All the wars, all the gunshots fired, all the explosions and detonations of mines; the inspired events come of discoveries by Alfred Nobel’s; the letters by Albert Einstein’s to sitting presidents affirming the discoveries of Max Planck’s and Enrico Ferme’s; along with all the other madmen that discovered a new way to unleash all the forces of the universe to the maximum of their destructive potential! All placed with the touch of a perverse leader to explode the planet little by little.

And now with the popular madness inspired through example of fictional Dr. Mabuse’s and Professor Moriarity’s, a collective self-destructive mindset threatening the stability of the universe by following the goal of creating a singularity to govern all. The achievement of which would serve to swallow all humankind into a real black hole despite all assurances to the contrary. All for the sake of a megalomaniac’s demented dream to displace the ultimate governing powers of the gods.

He came back from the quiet terror of these speculations to his own imagined world of dilemmas that the obsequious agents of his building were avoiding as best they could. Too timid and unwilling to be confronted by the tenants that based upon the past inaction on so many pressing issues were now wary of them. Both side not wishing to have to endure the next encounter but driven by the growing extremity of the festering situation were driven by the fear that one was imminent!

Dawn approached as the sleepless man awoke for he sixth time. The last interval shortening to a matter of some minutes. He noticed that his own penis was standing vertically erect as if in sympathy with that of the depiction of an ancient primeval Egyptian god. He wondered about this iconic legacy of the past experienced by all males at the approach of the Sun. Certainly a surprise to all those presently impotent aging older males! He extended the back of his had out to rest upon the coolness of the covers and thought about what he had experienced int he last segment of his life. That mutual desire by both landlord and tenant to accommodate each other. The landlord’s of this pyramidal society offering the absurdity of organic bread and other tidbits branded as health to offset plans for enacting a final mass extinction. And all their tenants clinging to some impossible hope that life as they once thought they knew it would be brought back to some semblance of normal. Offering to their liege their patience and continued silence to once more again hear out the continued claims of their former landlord’s absurd promises. Ones that promised that after their phalanxes of bureaucrats had finished their appointed task of enthralling all, these slaves would be made whole. Both factions blinded to the impossible task of finding accommodation in these conflicting goals. The only conceivable result to this dilemma coming in a day in the not too distant future of the discovery of a moment of both’s total destruction. The long habit of persisting through memory now employed to guide him through each room. Little by little, half step by quarter step, he slowly navigated his own environment,

Having become blind he had to substitute his sense of feel for his eyes. Step by step, now he could feel the texture of the floor through the soles of his feet. Within his mind that scene from childhood of caterpillars upon a leaf alternately extending their long antennas, Each one slowly and incrementally dipping down to feel about to chart the path ahead. The sounds of his own passing across the environment attenuated into providing an auditory roadmap confirming the exploration of his touch. Accidental impacts unforeseen causing an instantaneous pause. His toes stubbing the newly discovered fact of a pair of slippers resting errant upon the floor. A surprise of sorts? After a slow travel he imagined that he could navigate with a confidence of his own surety within his own domain. The bed now was just before him and he twisted around to sit down with the assurance that there would be no unfortunate surprises. He lay back in the bed and was restored to that nightly first moment when one would first close their eyes and expected an uninterrupted peace. That same mental stare at an empty ceiling where these same nightly shadows would accompany him to sleep.

The dream that he drifted to having him in the guise of an aging student of the arts that was taking a class along with others very much younger than his own years. The professor conducting the class being dismissive of the half-hearted efforts of the dreamer. The evidence of this student’s inattention being some construction paper cutouts that were in a shambles. The final test ahead being at another location,the man now being directed by his aggravated teacher to load himself along with some other students in the back of a pickup truck. The rough ride encountered playing further havoc with the man’s failing creation as he attempt to salvage it. His turn at the subsequent examination held seeing him verbally attempting to put the remaining pieces not savaged by this ride into a recognizable form. The scene fading back into the cold dark reality of his bed.

He dragged himself to the window and pulled it open then stuck his head out into the vast restless ocean of cool air. The drop below him being some fifteen stories or more. One by one, vaulting one leg after the other coming to rest upon the narrow sill he climbed out of his former world. The particulars of a chance to defy his desire to impulsively jump and survive and were quite obviously next to nil. One quick flight like a chick evolved finally into adulthood format he edge of the nest. One could only wonder!

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The Eastern Form Or Western Civilization

The topic of the collapse of society has been spoken about with incredulity in so many texts focusing on past civilizations. The collective reaction of those that term themselves expert scholars often being offering the intellectual equivalent of shock and awe. Humanity at this point worldwide seems a shit pile upon which the dogs that run by technological elitism constantly lift their leg’s. The visionary experience of a future that all seem to join into a chorus to universal lament. But few know what it is to be truly civilized at this point when the smell of societal atrophy becomes so bad that the fact of its demise has become unavoidably apparent. The model of the ‘globalized’ metropolis realized in overpopulated disease ridden shit holes where non-resident personages from foreign lands congregate to parasitically demolish local financial resources of under the tissue thin claim of human rights. The prevalent attitude by the indigenous population is to bury their head in the sand and then castigate those that won’t. The fallback of the current generation of young urban hipsters is to immerse themselves in the current fantasy realm of Hollywood driven illusions of web based scenarios of wealth and power that exist only in the mind. The worst role that one can take up amidst the decline of any failing social structure is of that person that reminds people of their responsibility to fix it and then become the tagged of communal ire. Yet, better an earnest failing attempt that just assuages guilt and diverts responsibility to clean up their own backyard to other hands. Like the hands of immigrants for example. How silent that otherwise shrill cry for human rights can get when you are in grave jeopardy of having to operate your own lawnmower!

The computerized methodology of daily encounter with one’s fellow citizens through the rabbit hole of I-Phone delivers its user into a state of sociologically insulated self-centeredness. A faux frame of reference that is based on an a general attitude of over-rationalization for every action via vacuous social mores per the radical swings of the daily barometer of sub cult oriented social climate. You are enjoined to get all you can from others through a false sense of informality of first name only address to avoid treating them with any respect above or similar to your own mental model of where you yourself fall in the caste chain. Their inner content is crap and your surface appearance always speaks louder than any other if you choose your outer garments and speech ‘right‘ in accordance with the latest trend of the moment. No surprise just where those fashion tips emanate from. The displacement of cultural uniformity replaced by constant psychological manipulation through the modern Rosetta stone in the palm of your paw. Any hint of individual personality dissolved by the current set of popular avatars whose characteristics are to be emulated in speech, action and fashion. Self-replicating artificial intelligence based data collection completing the feedback loop of general human behavior allowing the governing of resources to focus in on inherent humankind’s weaknesses. A cultural totalitarian purge then taking place to cast out those most resistant to the larger system of programming. The homogeneous normalization of all races and divergent social experiences turned into a bland brownish milkshake of a single easily manageable herd being under the direction of a singular Capitalist politburo hidden in plain site within the Socialism driven world. The sheep’s skin at that point thrown off that age old parasitic group of a minuscule monotheistic elitist cabal.

Cries for salvation nixed by those that still sit inert on their Heinie’s and unwilling to entertain thoughts that go beyond the conventional that anything described could by the strength of sanity or logic could ever be taking place. This demographic subsequently being swept away into the dust of history and short memories. The only target for congealing rage being those tiny few that would violate the standard of universal self-impotence and political neutering The definition being anyone who would intentionally defies the growing stranglehold of a state that continuously tightens its grip in every realm of human existence. Those that by their actions reveal the nakedness of their unresponsive fellow citizens to the fact of their own coming destruction in terms of all those false commercial illusions that cloud the brain. Afraid to unplug from the system en masse given the consequence of truly realizing their own vulnerability and courageously foregoing the future of perpetual mind numbing servitude under cradle to grave economic chattel serfdom. The odor of rot coming directly from their own bodies that are ravaged by unspecified chemicals from processed nourishment spewed out to provide the least amount of nutrition and the greatest degree of mind numbing at the smallest cost. The life of an average citizen in this utopia being spent on a social conveyor belt with any benefits of work cultivated in the formative years and physical resources mined out by the expected time of final departure. Substituting a soulless empty mental amusement park mentality replete with unending forms of virtual eye candy for actual human existence. The constant instilling of fear and shadow of violence. With this new form of society, what’s true is untrue. The average citizen completely functionally indifferent to this transition. Just there, but not really! The idea of future having simply redefined that persistent institution of universal slavery.

The Unfortunate Collateral Costs Of World Empire

The packet steamer, Northern Star, on it’s way from Liverpool, had passed through the Suez in the midst of night. At approximately 11:30 PM the boiler had exploded just past the Arabian peninsula and was lost at sea with all hands including the entire passenger list of military family members that it had been transporting from Liverpool to the great gate at Calcutta. This tragic loss of so many wives and children of the regiment of an East India company’s staff officers was considered a great tragedy rating a full column and headline in the Times. A subsequent investigation conducted by a military board of government officials had been mounted but the results offered to the board of inquiry had been judged as inconclusive. And in time, as with all great disasters, it was soon eclipsed by other equally terrible tragic events throughout the empire and the memory of the lives that had been lost forgotten by all but the the closest of relatives.

Or this is what the rest of the world thought who had not heard of certain unsubstantiated rumors! Rumors that stated that in truth of fact, the steamer had run aground upon some uncharted reef off the coast before the ship’s boiler had fully given way obliterating both crew and vessel. But this had occurred only after the entire compliment of female passengers had been deposited safety onto the shore, and then subsequently waylaid by those ever belligerent Musselmen living along that deserted coast. Those of the remaining crew that had escaped the massive explosion only to be captured and then killed to a man attempting to protect their charge of women. The accompanying chapters of this tale concerning the subsequent fate of these females being both fantastic and too horrible for anyone from the civilized white world to bear. Her majesty’s government sitting in place back in England having enough on its hands to deal with in terms of quelling insurrection within its own subcontinent jewel crown colony needing no new reasons to consider reopening any investigation that might lead to yet another political complication. One that might possibly escalate into an armed conflict! And so, the matter of the actual fate of those remaining female survivors was put silently to rest under a blanket of tacit secrecy.

Many decades later a solitary aged female surfaced at a port near Athens Greece relating a tale that purported to tell the true story concerning the actual fate of those women and children subsequent to the demise of that ill fated ship that had been officially considered lost some two decades previous. A story that spoke of the many loved ones that had survived the steamer’s explosion only to be consigned to the demented worshipers of Islam as mere human cargo and subject to a merciless fate bestowed upon all infidels that could be easily characterized as being worse than death. The type of treatment offered to all females come of Northern European origin being historically insidiously cruel. Yet the the fate of this unfortunate compliment of British families was said to have gone far beyond boundaries of any imaginable uncivilized forms of behavior imaginable. The deposition, as stated by that very same haggard woman, whose own appearance seemed to vouchsafe an incredible level of ill treatment, going on to detail infamy after infamy committed upon that helpless vulnerable contingent of ladies. The woman’s torso was covered in scars, head to toe suggesting someone that had grown old and decrepit long before her time as a result of the extraordinary levels of physical abuse. And her original looks defiled by the malice of excessive heathen tattooing and ragged piercings making her almost unrecognizable as a member of the European race or so the transcript detailing this physical evidence belied. More evidence speaking to the veracity of her claims that by the current official policy on the matter dare not be publicly told. Her name had been Matilda Worthing, and at the age of sixteen she had entered the service of a lady of quality. Someone who had in her own right made a bountiful match with the son of a noble landowner who had himself taken up a career as a colonel in her majesty’s service. And now at twenty-eight, Matilda having over a period of years been judged meritorious by her lady’s and in high standing was chosen among all the other retainers in the house to accompany both mistress and daughter half way around the world to that exotic imperial colony of India, Matilda had thought herself graced by God in this stroke of good fortune. A notion would all too soon be eclipsed as fate would swing from one pole of fortune to its opposite all too soon in the future.

The Northern Star had been clipping along at the brilliant speed of twelve knots without incident when it suddenly collided with an uncharted reef about a half nautical mile off the shore line of a gulf emirate. The ship’s captain well aware of the dangers of making a landing upon such a hostile coast had no other choice but to head towards shore in hopes of beaching his vessel so as to spare the lives of his passengers by providing them an escape in the ship’s two lifeboats. The boat crew manning each being hastily provided with several sidearms and a brand new repeating Martini Henry rifle. The entire compliment composed of some three score women and children then being deposited safely upon the beach under an armed guard of a few sailors. A sudden roar of the ship’s boilers being torn apart in what was a massive explosion killing all still aboard having scotched any chance of any further rescue. Night fell quickly as all the various families huddled together in an attempt to defeat the cold ocean breeze rolling in as they all shivered on the edge of the wilderness a moonless desert night. It was only when in early morning at what seemed to be the darkest hour under a cover of a cloudy ridden sky that the party of desert raiders first approached the camp. Initially, they seemed peaceful, raising their hands in what appeared to be a salutation. Their shadowy mounted forms passing in and out of the light of a small fire that had been scrounged from a meager supply of drift wood that had been gathered along this treeless coast. But this soon changed as cries of Allah u Akhbar and gunshots rang out all around. A hidden number of them came charging up from either side of the encampment quickly flanking the armed sailors on guard and in a hail of bullets quickly dispatching them all to their maker. The terrified cries of the now defenseless women along with their children rising up in utter despair as the swarthy arabs entered their ranks swiftly pulling them apart from their loved ones.

Matilda’s stood in stunned silent along with her mistress and her eleven year old ward. Their tiny ensemble trembling uncontrollably in the midst of the ensuing chaos of families being pulled asunder. The colonel’s lady doing her best to call for calm and entreating a civilized resolve to be shown by the other ladies, such as could be maintained before the ongoing ministrations of these bloodthirsty barbarians. That guttural babble rising from all their tongues as they spoke among themselves in what seemed to be a communal sense of elation suggesting that their raid had delivered to them a great prize in the fact of having captured so many women now in their grasp. Small altercations broke out here and there as two of them tugged upon the arms of the same hapless captive in the midst of a dispute as to who should be afforded full possession. And had it not been for the commanding voice of one of their group, an equal level of mayhem might have claimed more victims. Instead, the women were all surrendered back into a single group that remained guarded by this captain’s own retainer till the dawn had fully given way into first light. It was then, as Matilda recalled, the first of many infamies to come had commenced. Small groups of the female survivors were sorted out by several robed men and small select parties separated. One by one the women were set upon by the raiders who themselves by this point had defaulted to their own tribal clans. The general task of all the men was to strip their captives of all jewelry and clothing and then apportion same. Jewelry and small valuable to a strong box and an accompanying pile for the garments according to the apparent worth of the item. A communal wail now rose up from all the women as they saw with abject horror how each of their fellow captives were being roughly laid bare to public view. Most being left fully exposed and naked for the first time in their lives. Those still yet to be attended to now shaking uncontrollably almost to the point of feinting away as the thought that their own turn was now close at hand. Others watched stoically as they could in the face of the very next moment. Matilda’s own mistress was roughly thrown down as was her daughter their clothing violently wrenched off them. The mother’s embrace prevented as the child’s petite dress and underthings were brutally torn off leaving her curled up in only her own pinkish white skin. The men’s task now complete with all the women and their charges shivering in the nude within their own respective small groups. Many being physically held from any possibility of attempting escape by the hard grip of many of their chuckling captors. All of the males seemingly amused by the universal tone of female distress.

The next stage of infamy now commenced with each woman in turn being closely inspected. Rude dirty fingers probing about, pushing, and pulling, and poking at tender white flesh. One by one, analyzing the merits and drawbacks of each of their victims with the same unemotional abandon. The impression left in one’s mind being that the unfortunate women were naught but farm stock up for sale at a holiday county fair back home in England. An equal degree of angry sounding commotion rising up in the vicinity of the women’s former possessions now carelessly strewn about the sand some still being tugged back and forth in the hands of the coveting Arabs. The next step after the inspection came as each female was encumbered by a wooden rod attached clasp-like to a collar that was locked tight around the neck. Each end of the rod having a leather tight with which each wrist was tightly secured against the wood in turn. This device was set upon every female neck so that the narrow wooden bar would ride pun the woman’s shoulders and support each raised arm tightly by the wrist in a manner of a mock crucifixion. The finished result leaving the wearer with tender armpits raised and the rest of her entire body vulnerable to whatever vagaries of the elements or the whims of her captor’s had in mind. Another unexpected discomfort now fully apparent in the mounting scourge of large black beetle flies that would unceremonious attack every apparent orifice of the wearer from eyes and noses to the fully exposed region of the genitals. But the worst of all the afflictions to be endured from this point on now commencing in random blows from the short whips that each of the Arabs carried to chide the misdeeds of their camels. Orders were never spoken aloud to any of the encumbered females in these raider’s guttural mother tongue, but by the mean spirited sharp blows of these whips. Quick short strokes bringing a shrill shrieking cry when landed completely irregardless of the most tender of all female parts. Once again, one by one, the hapless women were formed into a line and hitched up collar to collar in four foot lengths of small chain. Each of these chained lines composed of fourteen females connected thusly to make up a single grouping of cincture’d unfortunates. An additional agony added to their current state of communal bondage as they all had to maneuver together as one or be quickly yanked individually by their neck. Perhaps then, if one, stumbled too hard and fell down they might also pull all the others attached collar to collar along with them. No one being able to catch themselves in a simultaneous fall their naked torsos completely vulnerable to the vagaries of the sharp composition of a stony terrain below. The result of same being that all of them, now choked hard and in pain from the impacts, would be beaten furiously by the Arab’s whips until they were cruelly forced back up into their proper places along the line. The loud protests of women in another line quickly stilled by fresh blows upon each mother and daughter now liberally covered with fresh welts crimson pink across their virgin white skin. Their only form of protest allowed by their captors once again bringing chuckling commentary by their captors being the observation of some of theta newly bound slaves suffering from an uncontrollable bodily trembling that was answered by a spontaneous release of the bowels or bladder. The hysteria that this produced within the afflicted female seemingly delighting in a wicked evil smile. Here and there a female neck twisted hard to tearfully look towards the sea for a last glimpse of the dark smoldering wreckage that signified the last vestige of their connection with their former life. Off they all now started on their long march upon the hot sandy terrain of the desert towards what, in so many minds could only surmise, would be an unthinkable fate.

The different parties of raiders had now split up into their own clans all heading off in different directions leading their prizes presumably towards some respective villages or other form of encampment. Each one with a stock of infidel females to be used in whatever manner that suited them. The single question being heavily upon the minds of all their suffering victims being exactly what that ‘manner‘ was? The initial lessons of servitude being taught to each line of these newly enslaved females being to keep up the pace behind the horse or camel towing them along, cinctured like cattle and feet fighting hard against the burning sand as the camel flies randomly descend to chew upon their flesh. Each one attempting to make peace with the contradiction of having once been a civilized human being and now to be henceforth treated like an animal and dragged unstoppably forward by her neck. The group within which Matilda had been chained indulged her own mistress and the daughter of same. A further addition to this contingent was a string of six adolescent girls that the captain of this clan had verbally fought mightily with the members of the other tribal raiders to possess. One of his catches now exposed by circumstance to be a natural blond posed of a sturdy frame with larger than usual breasts. A couple of less desirable body types that ranged from slim somewhat bony to slightly flat in the chest and mannish made up the rest of the roster of his share. His facial characteristics suggested guile behind what might be considered features of a refined and noble Arabic aesthetic. One that any sultan of caliph would have thanked Allah to be in possession of. It was clear from the fact of his cache that he intended to take the best of what was available even though his string counted up to being two less females than all the others had demanded. Hapless souls that were by now permanently lost to parts unknown. The sly hyena-like smile spread unchecked as he would abruptly turn his horse about riding along the stabling line of women to shamelessly coveting the finer parts of their anatomies. The enforced gait of hours suffered by this small column in tow behind a loping camel now producing a sheen of sweat upon them all as they weaved and stumbled only occasionally stopping for a period of a few minutes to rest after what seemed to all like hours of unbearable agony. By early afternoon the Sun was upon high making its imprint upon the exposed skin turning white flesh beet red. The sight of a small town far up ahead by late afternoon instinctively producing a sigh and mumble in some captives. The thought of rest such as it could be within these fetters of bondage was the first promise of relief that all had known since their imprisonment.

The passing of the small column through the town gate into the relative daily bustle of the streets of the adobe built Arab metropolis fueled a renewed a sensation of collective shame felt by each female. Here they were for the first time in public with their private parts completely exposed to views by every sort of person. Most of their own eyes being diverted cast down at the blistered bleeding feet of the unfortunate chained just before them. Or in the case of the colonel’s wife, a defiant but trembling stares attempting to defeat any casual interest of passing blacks or sun browned Arabs who for their part only seemed to occasionally take a mild but brief passing notice. A behavior that suggest that the sight of white infidel women stripped to the skin and bereft of haughty pride was not at all considered a novel sight. And then there was a terrible urgency felt by many of the women that surely there must be someone with a hint of sympathy for their current plight lurking within at least one of eyes of these inhabitants for their awful plight to give them some feint hope of possible rescue or relief? Each of the captives sharing a common fundamental need for believing in the slimmest of possibilities of their salvation through an unexpected intervention by parties still currently unknown resident even within this strange cosmopolitan environment. Just to raise up their own averted eyes to find at least that one sympathetic face seeming a gift of their current prayers. Their hope continually dashed by an evil leering grin or the taunts of feral packs of children tossing sticks or some other form of detestable types of materials at their legs. Onward they marched in both physical and spiritual agony only stopping once for a moment as their leader spoke to one of the townsfolk. Some of the women no so tired that they fell to the ground pulling the rest along with them until the shouts of the captain spurred their warders to urge them all back up to their feet with the bite of their cruel whips. There they tottered again completely drained of energy attempting to stay upon their feet in fear of another intensive beating. It was merely a matter of moments until they all were once again being tugged along down the street in the direction of a cage enclosed corral. A part of what appeared to be a common open air bazaar in the midst of what served as this enclave’s town square. Now arrived and mindful of the penalty of another immediate bodily collapse they weaved about attempting to keep their balance and not succumb to their deep exhaustion. One by one each had her fetters removed and was roughly pushed inside the compound until all lay collapsed upon the cobbled stone floor. Bruised and dirty and panting like dogs. All of them completely unconcerned about the manner in which they lay and if it afforded a ripe views of their assets. Only happy to be fully released from their fetters at the end of their strenuous ordeal. Small groups of ragged males gathering by the outside cage eyeing them studiously and grabbing themselves under their dirty robes as if considering some intention to purchase one or another of the meals that they maliciously eyes. A round of laughter rising up among some these evil looking rascals when a small number the older female captives rose up to form a screen with their bodies out of some pathetic attempt at modesty to save two of the younger femmes from shame as each of the girls squatted attempting hard to relieve themselves. Raw insidious commentaries being shared outside the bars concerning the degree of production by young bowels and bladders joyfully exchanged by the owners of these ever invasive prying eyes.

The metal grid of the cages door was swung open and a small jug of water with an equally small sack of meal was tossed in their cage. Matilda’s mistress taking charge of fairly apportioning these scant rations summoning whatever dignity that she could still muster to mete out the correct portion to all. Night slowly fell and the weeping women pressed hard against each other’s exposed flesh to try escape the biting cold of the desert night. Two older guards were now stationed outside the bars of the stable enclosure periodically eyeing this communal struggle to share some small measure of body heat. What seemed like laughter and derision coming from the pair in the comfort of a warming light as offered to the two by a nearby flaming brazier. Much amusement and purposely loud commentaries was periodically shared from outside throughout the night startling awake many from their fitful rest but now finding themselves sleepless at the waking realization that this nightmare was not from a dream but their current hard reality then suffering further despair in having to reacquaint themselves with the many recent details of the day before suggesting the deep gravity of their own hopeless plight. The rawness of their extremely sunburn tender skin peppered with grit from the bottom of the stable causing inescapable suffering from the unceasing torment from unaccustomed tender white skin. Many rounds of gut wrenching sobs periodically breaking forth from within the rigging pile as others came out of the stupor of total exhaustion to unreservedly apprise their lack of a tomorrow’s now being demoted to the low status of common slaves. “What would become of them?” “Would there be an attempt at rescue?”, some dared to whisper. The remaining mothers of some of the sobbing young girls that had not already been deprived of their own attempting to comfort all with trembling soothing promises that seemed impossible to keep. Cooing fables and fantasies to them all that somehow they would all be saved at the very last moment from this ongoing ever-humiliating ignoble fate. Much praying going on until a sharp angry bark coming from one of their two old toothless guards quelled the informal religious service. All entreaties to a Christian god were now considered intolerable within their new home. Morning came slowly along with it a sense of growing trepidation within every female heart of what the new day held in store for them all. Each trying their best not to think beyond the instantaneousness afforded by the present as to what horrors lay in store after sunrise. A slowly gathering crowd of males forming before a platform just opposite from the cage’s gate suggesting a harsh answer. An auction.

The approach of mid-morning brought with it the approach of a small ensemble of powerful looking pitch black negroes led by a sour hawkish faced man. His cold stare through the bars sizing up the women seeming to make mental notes about each one of them. After he was finished the largest of the two engross came up to the gate and unlocked it. The women being startled by this pressed back upon each other into a tight group holding their arms tightly against themselves covering their breasts and mons Venus. The black entered and began by reaching forth for the arm of a particular woman as directed by motioning of the hawkish man outside. The woman chosen attempting to bury herself in the crowd of the others but to no avail. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her from the throng then wrapping his arms around her torso he physically lifted her forth out of the cage. Off she went bodily carried with ease over and then up onto the parapet all the time kicking her legs wildly. There she was set down and motioned with one whack on the backsides by a short cane to stand still. The other black attendant upon the same small stage as the other left it snapping his whip sharply back and forth at the insides of her upper arms and thighs forcing her legs and arms wide apart and towards the direction of a growing throng of buyers. The rising babble of guttural Arabic suggesting the commencement of another demeaning event was at hand. A slender fellow with a leathery pockmarked face took his place at the side of the platform and raising a long wand began his auctioneer’s pitch in a high pitched form of Arabic ringing more loudly above the throng before him. Here and there on the poor woman’s trembling body he used his stick to point out what was considered her better features. The hips, the mouth, the eyes and breasts, all were with indicated via his stick all with the dexterity of a championship fencer. Here and there a potential buyer lazily raising his hand above the surround throng mumbling a question or placing a bid. The female to be auction then being turned about and prodded by the smaller black attendant she being forced by his whip fully bending over to expose the recently formerly forbidden parts of her ladylike anatomy to full view. One of the two buyers that had made an initial bid was invited up to the stage to perform a closer inspect the merchandise via a more tactile manner. His rough fingers plunged unhesitatingly into the woman’s hindquarters rummaging about at in the next moment pulling open her mouth with them to see her teeth. The woman’s cries of pain from the fore fingers of the potential pushing past dry lips of her vulva and deep into her uterus were ignored by the crowd. Their shrillness issued as a result of these invasions treated as one might expect them to be in the case of a lowing cow. After a matter of a few minutes more, a bargain struck and the a sale consummated by an exchange of coins the unlucky woman was quickly tied, hands behind her back and then yoked by a heavy collar and leash to be quickly led off into the crowd and her own private version of a coming oblivion.

A feeling of abject terror gripped Matilda who was now pressed against her mistress who in turn held her own daughter in the tightest of protective embraces all possibilities of ever seeing the world as they once knew it seemed to be coming to an end. The shrieks of the first unfortunate woman had generated a trembling response traveling through the throng of tightly compressed female bodies. The frenzied patter of conversations held between some of them evidencing final goodbyes at the fact of their being most probably separated for the duration of their lives, however long that might be. The most merciful discovery at that moment for many might have come in the discovery of an implement of some small device with which to quickly dispatch themselves and end it all. How many fortunes of family estates would have been gratefully surrendered for a small sharp knife or loaded revolver with which to save themselves from what all saw ongoing before them? These stinging recollections of former existence once known a matter of days and eons ago when they were all safely ensconced in a civilized setting as respectable women treated with the utmost civility and deference now completely swept away. The thought of now being deposed such a miserably low status at the bottom level of a farm animal or slave was something unthinkable! But now the reality of a cruel fate that they were all unavoidably destined to share. Tears flowed in rivulets down Matilda’s mistresses eyes as she stammered in a low pathetic quivering voice, “That she couldn’t bear to surrender her own daughter to these savage beast’s worst ministrations!” “What would happen to this poor innocent child without her mother there to protect her?“, she repeatedly sobbed as her former ladylike grace was completely defeated. One by one the stock of females was reduced in a similar manner as the first. The same repetitive scene as previously performed now serving two other women who once were mother’s committed to fight furiously to the end to fend off the removal of their innocent daughters were easily defeated by the methodical black brute. Each of the too pressing against the cage’s bars half crazed out of their minds with anger and fear as they saw their darling little children pulled up upon the platform and rudely displayed in a similar fashion as the adults. Then screaming a heart rendering cry of mortal anguish as the child was yoked and led off on a leash by strange hands. Finally, it was Matilda’s turn to be torn away from the last remaining two in he cage. Now in shock beyond emotion, she simply allowed herself to be taken quietly walking forth to the dreaded platform and her uncertain fate. The central part of the platform was now slippery on the spot where all the others had been made to stand. A pervading odor of foulness suggesting that the wetness beneath the soles of her feet was from the reaction of fear by the internals of some of the women giving way while being harshly handled and probed. Now as similar treatment loomed she tried hard to handle herself like a Joan of Arc as another swarthy man with evil looking burning eyes began to paw at her without restraint. Her soul felt bruised as she was made to squat and bend over to spread her thighs as the man gripped her neck in hand and ran his thumb fully up her anus as it would travel with the other. The monster then shoving the excrement encumbered finger hard into her mouth while choking her with it until she was forced to suck her own foulness cleaning it off his offending digit. The audience to this cruelty responding with communal laughter. It was apparent that the abject humiliation of any European was conceded fine sport. The final bidding for Matilda now complete by a short detestable looking creature his servants were promptly dispatched to fetter her for the journey to her new existence. Another pair of Africans that spared no amount of physical cruelty in bending her about as they promptly affixed a pair of heavy iron shackles onto her ankles and another set to her wrists. A matching heavy iron collar now added around her neck and small chains connected to the ensemble of weighty iron. All to ensure that she now knew her current lack of station in this society. She tried to swivel her head around towards her mistress’s child who was now being brought up to the stage but was rebuffed by a blow. A profound sense of choking sorrow overwhelmed he not for herself but for the poor woman that she had once so faithfully served that was now out of her mind with grief back within the cage.

Blinding pain from a heavy whip brought her back to her own world as she was encouraged on her journey to the new residence by the sharpened end of a small but deadly cane wielded in the hands of one of the two negroes. One that set to work continuously marking her buttocks with new welts every few steps. The constant alternately switching at the meat of each inner thigh making her convulsively raise each affected leg up high in her gait as if she were a prized mare. Passing men and women and children were completely indifferent to the painful mistreatment that she was receiving at the hands of these twin evil negroes. Some small part of that remaining civilized consciousness that she had once known that had bemoaned the plight of slavery of blacks as equally human now howled for its brutal return. The inbred perniciousness of these demons to eagerly torment and humiliate any white woman seemed to know no bounds! Somehow despite these constant assaults she found a random thought here or there breaking though the pain. A concern for knowing their fact suddenly surfacing about the immediate fate of her mistress and the tender child that she had helped to raise since birth and then having her concerns quickly switched away by another impact of the cane upon her flanks. What little clear headedness was remaining fearing to ponder what might happen to her once they reached their final destination of this petty little sultans’ abode. Would she be reserved solely for servicing his demands? Or would these two black fiends have full reign to continue their normal custom in scourging her even worse? The approach of the entrance to the high walls enclosing the frontage of two story building set behind now before her. It’s barred gate now flung wide open seeming to answer that internally posed question. Pulled by the leash and pushed from behind through the gate she caught a glimpse of its small courtyard. There was in the center was a pair of thick wooden posts supporting a lintel. Her passing interest in he function of the device was immediately satisfied as once all were within the enclosure she was led towards it by her twin captors. Closer inspection revealed a series of iron rings and hooks embedded all along the inner portions of the wooden posts as well as the bottom of the upper crossbeam. Now halting directly before it her manacled arms were suddenly pulled up high by one of the men and she was lifted up onto an iron hook centrally positioned on the bottom of the lintel. Her vertically outstretched form swinging to and fro a few inches off the ground as the chains from her anklets clinked over its gravel. Her fat little owner busily motioning for a settee to be brought for him from. His servant depositing it along with a small ornate table a few feet before her. Sumptuous food and drink arriving upon a brass tray as he settled in with his refreshments close at hand. Her own stomach now loudly growling in protest at the torment of being empty for days as he mockingly through the finished rinds of the fruit that he was consuming her bare belly. It’s remaining remnants of the juice tickling her thighs and tormenting her nagging hunger. Her wrist encumbered in those shackles had now gone numb from the pain of supporting the dead weight of her body. The little sultan now motioned forth his slave who quickly trotted off. Returning moments later with what appeared to be a bullwhip of studded leather covered with small steel pearly bits.

The first strike of the device slammed forth deeply into her flank with a force that almost sent her to the edge of consciousness. So brutal was the blow by the muscular black that even the fat little sultan sitting before raid up a hand gesturing a message that seemed to convey that his servant should ease back a bit. One after another, the subsequent lashes fell hard upon her though not threatening to send her into unconsciousness. Each one striking into her flesh from another angle and paying no heed whatsoever to the vulnerable softness of its target or an awareness as to the possibilities of damage that it might inflict. Within a matter of minutes she was wet with tiny rivulets of her own blood as it oozed from dozens of sharp cuts emblazoned upon her flesh. The recurring pain so intense that she lost an ability to count the number of strokes. It was clear that this continued bacchanal of abuse was designed to delight the demented sensibilities her new owner with her uncontrollable flailing limbs in animated some form of perverted aerial dance. On and on without stopping making her dimly wonder if at the last moment she would be spared the next round of unthinkable unthinkable infamies by the gift of death? Blacking out, she slowly regained consciousness finding herself sprawled upon the ground laying before her fat little sultan master. His robe now fully open the grossness of the large rolls of fat of his hairy abdomen sagging down over a small very flaccid childish penis. The great bulk of all that rolly polly flesh threatening to completely obscure it. The sharp pain hard upon the bottom of her buttocks just adjacent to her sex killing further speculation and forcing her to rise upwards onto her hands and knees while instinctively arch her back to a position at attention like a prize dog. The next blow upon her sex driving her instantly forward in white hot blinding pain into his crotch as the fat man’s chubby hands simultaneously grabbed the sides of her face pulling her head hard upon his cock. Another quick snap of leather and steel on the small of her back forcing her mouth open with a cry of pain that was instantly stifled by her master’s slowly engorging cock. Then began and endless cycle of his pushing the sour little sorry thing inward as far down her throat as its short little extended girth would travel. And then after a couple minutes of her gagging upon it to the point of choking off all air yanking it back out. The only saving grace of the experience being that the amount of cuffing from behind by the whip became much less pronounced. Supposedly to save this nearly impotent fat little man from suffering an inadvertent bite that would finish the job. She might have past out again having being continuously deprived of air by his choking play save for the reliability of those sharp little taps here or there on the bottom of her spine. After what seemed like hours she finally collapsed back into total unconsciousness.

When Matilda finally awoke she found herself in a small stone chamber the only entrance to which came in the form of a small door with a iron barred portal that let light such at it was in. There she lay listless and broken upon some dirty straw looking at a ceiling that could barely allow for the height of a small child. A small bowl lay beside her the brackish contents of which offered only a watery gruel. Her entire body wracked with pain she managed after a what seemed like hours to raise her head up enough and twist so as to allow her to put her face into the wooden bowl and consumed a portion of its meager bounty. Sinking back to the floor she rubbed the flat of her hand over the different expanses of her body exploring the places where the residual pain felt the worse. As best she could determine no bones had been broken or was continuously losing blood deep lesions that the hellish implements used so freely upon her had created. The expert handling of the different types of whips and canes by the sultan’s negro had left its mark imprinted all over her body yet it had not produced any lasting damage. The thought of enduring another round of beatings by that devil made her curl up tightly into a ball. The extraordinary amount of cruelty that she had suffered thus far being considered customary treatment afforded to those of her kind! And there was no reassurance that she would not be put to the test soon once again! She lay there unmoving throughout the blackness of night wondering when the small prison door would be opened and she would once again be treated so harshly? Her fears were not disappointed as sometime after the light from the outside had fully given way the flicker of an oil lamp signaled an approach of the door. It was swiftly opened and a pair of muscular black arms then pulling her over its rough brick and out of her refuge. It was back to the wooden arch and this time by torch light! Once more this little sultan’s insatiable appetite to continue humiliate and inflict pain upon her was to be the continued resolution of her fate that she feared to know. This time the shackles that had been reapplied were fully removed and in their place wet leather straps that stretched as they dried to leave her own tormented limbs banjo string tight her body floating in an ‘x’ position fully suspended. The sultan returning after his victim had been properly prepared taking his place once again on the same settee sitting exactly where it had been the time before. His eyes glowering in the dark set like shiny orbs in the heavily jowled face of a pig. The fact that his major pleasures in life evidently included seeing infidel women routinely hided within an inch of their life now horribly apparent to Matilda. The only response that her body could mount to this horrible undeniable fact being to instinctively void the contents of her trembling insides in a jet-like stream upon the ground just below. Something that seemed to please this little petty potentate to no end! The ceremony then commenced as his servant delivering new blows upon barely healed flesh leaving new patterns of welts that after a short time bled tiny rivulets of her blood. The continuous days of this, or possibly weeks. or maybe months wearing down Matilda into a mentality one might find characteristic a lower form of life. The ongoing experience of constant inescapable pain that seemed to erase all memories of anything from her past beyond the awareness of pain from the last session being reliably to be expected in the next. The only indication that a significant amount of time had past since the beginning of her living entombment within this continual hell being a marked change in the weather. The unexpected appearance of a rough woolen threadbare blanket crumbled up one day in the corner of her hutch giving her something with which she was allowed to wrap her sore nakedness from the daily abuse to provide some protection against the rising windy coldness of night.

What once she considered with some internal pride as the delicacy of her own quim had now been derided into a notion of an overly ravaged cunt. Something that even the lowest class of sailor serving in her majesty’s service in a far off Chinese port might have remarked was untenable to contemplate as an orifice that he would wish to sunder. Her master’s pleasure had shifted as of late to seeing her simultaneously taken at both ends by his two servants. Their massive members leaving her no mercy after the required foreplay of customary strapping had ceased. Though that awful whip that had first graced her torso had been retired after the first few sessions, its replacements were equally damaging to her pain centers. The ritual as modified now demanding that she also be beaten with a cane on the back while servicing the two squatting blacks while her knees were ground hard into the pebbly surface of the courtyard by the extra weight of the two men upon her. Her teats waggling free in thin air jiggling madly until they had been thoroughly hammered by hand and rod, the distended nipples now each sporting the addition of an embedded silver ring that extended each to the fullest. The fat little whorish sultan also having decreed the addition of a string of the same of these silver rings to be embedded within similar fashion all along the length of her two labial lips. The desired effect being to add as much maximum stimulation to his little cock for those times when he felt like taking her. It was evident that her character was being changed far past that former time when she could remember the feel of garments covering her naked flesh. The sun had long replaced that former artificial covering with a patina of brown blending the infinite criss cross of scars that covered her body from head to toe. She could think of nothing else but the taste of male cock both large and small and the persistent slime that it left down her throat. There was the growth of a new form of obsessive excitement bred over her former civilized mores in the rush of the excitement come of well-delivered pain and the ensuing pleasure of the release come of the orgasmic tension that each ceremony always seemed provide at its conclusion. A release that transformed her own humiliation into a personal religion. Something that replaced that bygone civilized world which by this point had collapsed into a vague memory. What little earthly human consciousness remaining now transformed to an instinctual based animal existence. Her sentiments destroyed and unable to no longer held tears for that former self now long lost or for the fate of any other now too far beyond any sense of knowing.

It was one morning, after being removed from her small chamber and left chained by the post of the same wooden pillory that had become her most familiar haunt, she saw that the gate to the street was being opened to admit a small number of musclemen who followed by what appeared to be two other naked European females. The black cloth drapes of the customary Muslim veil of public modesty cloaking their hair and faces while still completely leaving their entire bodies completely exposed to public view. Something that even in her present demented mental state of being, Matilda always found curious. Neither one of the two were sporting steel anklets or manacles but only respectively leashed with fine silver metal collars attached to fine black leather leashes. This small party approaching the pillory held the hint of uncanny familiarity recalling after a minute the visage of the original captain? The very one that had taken all the women prisoner on the beach at what by this point seemed seemed centuries past. Her private musings interrupted by commands issued by Matilda’s own master as her body automatically rose to attention. Every demand by this point now quickly obeyed. The other two infidel slaves now standing before her reacting seamlessly in a similar fashion each having their head coverings unceremoniously jerked off. An unexpected shock came over Matilda who instantly recognized the former identities once belonging to each of the two vacant faces. Her former mistress standing beside the daughter who was now transformed by a recent entry into post-adolescence. The two stood limply side by side. Their expressions fully empty of any reciprocal recognition. Naked bodies at attention and fully decked out in all the expected accouterments afforded to an infidel slave. Big nipple rings weighing down the tips of each of their breasts. Rows of heavy silver rings filling each of their labia complimenting other fine silver and gold ones piercing noses and ears. The collection of each of these additions connected in some way by a small ceremonial chains. Each woman loosely attached rom nose to the largest of the rings embedded within the labial hood just beneath the site of their clot’s. That once lively light formerly illuminating their eyes as vibrant individuals permanently extinguished! They were now simply another fine matched pair of infidel slaves. Mother and daughter now fully bred to serve any demand on command in the long Arab tradition of detraining all hint of civilization from European captives. Their once fine alabaster forms that might have graced the ceiling of a royal palace as angelic messengers of heaven now over-filled with henna graffito in compliment to dark colored inky tattoos sublimating the evidence of surface scarring from countless repeated beatings by cane and lash. A quick command from the captain and they each instantaneously fell to ground. The Colonel’s former wife rolling over at his bidding opening her legs wide to display her thoroughly despoiled sex as if she were simply a well-trained canine. The former daughter now diving forth to buried her face in her mother’s opening. The young harlot vigorously swiping her extended tongue up and down starting at what had become a perpetually stretched anus and up and over the crimson gash hanging swollen and open between the silver rings finally slowing her progress to end below the severed stalk of what had once been a now amputated clitoris.

The sight of the same reminding Matilda that she had also experienced the same painful fate only a few weeks into her own captivity. The three of them now neutered from any possibility of experiencing their own womanly pleasure so as not to distract them from their ceaseless task of immediately pleasing every and any whim of their devious masters. At the snap of the fingers and the motioning of a command by her own master and Matilda now found herself balancing on the balls of her feet in full squat and hovering close over the open mouth of her former mistress. This lady that she once knew and had dutifully served, fully extending her pink tongue out to its fullest. A tiny silver stud that pierced it now all too evident at its tip. The memory of this mistresses own dulcet command of the elegant of English speech erased by the sensation suddenly felt of the intrusion of her current doppleganger as the willing slave that had replaced her. Matilda shifting slightly away as the ladies’ tongue pushed its way up into fully into the canal of her own open sex. A deep sense of shame coursed through Matilda at finding herself in such an unacceptable position indulging in behaviors that caused her to shudder from head to toe and attempt to pull away. The quick response of the cane in the usual brutal hand of her master’s servants upon the ring distended nipples of her tortured breasts flushing away this brief sensation of guilt. The ensemble of the three women were now simply to be considered as pets. Fully purged of any hesitation to heed any of the most outrageous command conceivable they were being put through their paces for the mutual edification of their respective master’s delight in perversity. The two nabobs competing against each other to test the training that had been long inflicted. By command each woman automatically shifted places with an economy that would have impressed and civilized contingent of troops on any European parade ground with its precision. The successive demands of each masters becoming increasingly ludicrous beyond perverse. The orifices of all were fully employed in turn by each woman one upon the other and the other. The action halted for Matilda and her former lady to rise to attach her daughter spreadeagled upon the pillory after which the two were handed a whips. The two then unhesitatingly laying the instruments upon the poor girl in furious precision striking all parts without prejudice of emotion suggesting a former relationship whether it had been dutifully respectful servant or loving mother. Each one then was then rotated upon the beam to suffer the fury of the two remaining until a glowing red was shining through the stain of their sun-baked skin. Now it was time for each to be fucked in turn by the giant swollen members of a single towering black slave who had been brought along by the captain presumably for the sake of his extraordinarily gigantic penis. A long pizzle that would have more correctly been borne by a horse! The two women not directly encumbered as a target for its wrath upon hands and knees on either side washing the portions temporarily exposed by each stroke with their tongues. One and on these ceaseless displays of venal perversity continued irregardless of any diversion of attention of their respective masters who might distracted in conversation and unwilling to give the command to stop the extreme exertions of these infidel slaves. Only breaking the pattern of their conversation to order to devise a new combination of even more taxing humiliation to demand from their completely obedient slaves. Hours past, and with the approach of evening eclipsing light the finale to be displayed coming with the order for all three to defecate fully and then fall onto their own filth faces down nuzzling the deposited contents and tongue at their own foul remains. The shit eventually being washed off the faces by a shower from an ensemble of negro penises. Matilda now laying on her side fully depleted by these extraordinary exertions. The deadened eyes of her former mistress half in her own embrace Matilda looking for some spark of internal life. The smaller wretch that had once been thought to be her daughter squatting zombie-like obliviously rubbing her crotch up and down her mother’s whip scarred thigh like a common bitch in heat. How sad that the wish of a mother to have the chance to stay with her own daughter to protect her had come about in so brutally and twisted an ironic way.The knowledge that their collective future could only hold the benefit of an early death being the only form solace that was offered. The slightest degree of hope of release that any of them could dream to come true. The only source of extraordinary passion that Matilda still held on to in this regard was an encouragement to perform so freely vigorous at her task as to be choked to death by some equestrian sized members at some point in time. The expected life of a European female in such circumstances being less than a year at best.

Yet somehow by an unexpected twist of fate Matilda survived. Her body having been so totally abuse her petty potentate quickie tired of her replacing her with another unfortunate much younger infidel. Her rings and other embedded jewelry removed and the exchange made at the town’s market where she was sold off as part of a consignment of depleted stock to nomadic traders. A mixed bag of races of battered females that had all ceased to have any similarity in particular to the former lands that had sired them. The cargo being sent north by dhow and exchanged for hard goods at a Syrian port. Then as luck would have it waylaid again by a sudden storm, their transport to be wrecked upon the rocks of an archipelago just off the coast of Greece where the winds had driven them. The crew of the ship too busy about their own survival to mind the disposition of their goods. Some of the women including Matilda losing their fetters and then swimming to shore to ultimately find freedom. No longer presentable as a European lady, her entreaties were considered suspect from the first. And though she was eventually referred to a British naval attache where she related her tale with a sense of factual veracity in detail, it was regarded as the distorted ravings of just another female of ill repute trying to capitalize on some old news story in faded print. Another probable harlot that had cooked up some grand scheme to take advantage of the sympathies of a naive government employee and receive return passage home to England where she would no doubt become a nuisance to fill up the compliment of her kind in Newgate prison. The woman after making her deposition was provided with a small amount of coin and then duly sent away after being told that her report would be considered. The deposition being promptly filed and eventually lost within some remote archive that was as equally buried and forgotten as she. Such were the unpleasant necessities of governing a world empire. Something that unfortunately is just as current an issue today.

Love Song Verses Of The Enlightened Globalist

There are unbelievers in the pool! There is algae left from the Muslims.
Hearken to the call for civil war. Hasten to the music of the pogrom!
Immigrants, their pilgrimage. Your crusade!
Filthy garments for the cause. The perversity of men’s minds!
The arrogance of straight women. Those two-legged stewing bacteria bags!
A tenacious virus of hate.

There is only one true God. All others must believe in the Federal Reserve!
All Goyim need to be killed. More free money to the Poor!
Fuck the rich. Feed the aged poor old stale donuts!
I exist, so that you don’t have to. Your just a another useless eater!
Just do it. Your continued form of pain, is my gain!
A salacious symphony of unrequited love.

It’s all good. Abolish white supremacy and worship Allah!
Hate has no home here. Hang up your own goddamn dirty laundry out to dry!
Fuck Trump and love Israel! Shh, your latent antisemitism is showing!
Stick your fingers in their layer cake. But anal sex is good!
Honor all new pronouns by the gross. Be a guest on the Disney channel
Utopia produces that most eternal bond of mind sucking patriotism.

Most of you have to die so that the rest of us can truly live. Burma shave!
Self-destruction is a noble cause! Get your corpse out of my town by six o’clock!
You forgot your smelly underwear. See the latest details on the five-thirty news!
Develop new interesting relationships. I left my car keys in your poop!
Temerity is just another form of positive Feminism. Set fire to his nut sack!
Sex is just another form of evolutionary inevitability for total strangers.

Money is the only physical reality. All paper must be promptly recycled!
The whole world runs on plastics. God is still your only true love doll!
Your daughter is a Lesbian at six. Your fifty-year old son sleeps in my basement!
Love your neighbor, but totally despise yourself. The number six is in the book!
Help save the bottle cap ocean. Further existence by your kind is futile!
Humanity is just another variety of blight upon this agnostic soulless universe.

Tell your husband to go to Hell. Have children fix their own goddamn breakfast!
Where did you leave my car keys. My victimization as a woman is never ending!
“I din du nuttin.“-“I don’t mean to do your bank account no harm.” Reparations!
Don’t listen to a Republican. Let them drink from the toilet!
Nostalgia is the pits. Where have all the good one’s gone?
The only valid socially advantageous choice left is what’s on TV tonight.

Social Terms & Political Definitions

How Societies Are Operated.

The beliefs and behaviors of most people are defined and brought into line by the societies that they are a member of. Politics is the game where carefully designated team players chosen by that tiny minority are tasked with acting out the role of typical run of the mill model citizens who repeatedly demonstrate that they properly conforms to those social limits. Big thinkers are those that dare to consider the world around them in a manner that does not fear to cross and possible go beyond those boundaries of official beliefs based upon a verifiable larger sense of popular reality. Positive progress is defined as an universal adherence by all within that society to a planned agenda offered by that small elite controlling group in a way that suggests it comes from a grassroots of mass consensus. Tyranny then is the functional illusion of mutually agreeable Democracy! Model citizens of a perfect society are eternally gullible and compliant to the actors and the same repetitive staged dramas that they daily perform. When beliefs that contradict the established mainstream begin to have influence they must be promptly debunked or defamed and those that are considered responsible for spreading them exiled or eliminated. If the society’s core policies are inherently flawed and cause a situation of internal collapse then those who have been identified as being formerly outspoken in trying to steer that societies model citizens away from the mainstream narratives are insurgents and must be held up to the members of society as primarily responsible for the failure. Rival societies are always to be considered as enemies and denigrated as either backwards in the philosophy or irreconcilably aggressive and dangerous. Terminologies are coined and words redefined to separate and divide segments of society that might interfere with the general beliefs that are meticulously popularized. Terms like ‘Racist’, ‘White’, ‘Anti-Semite’ or ‘Revisionist’ to establish taboos. Another class of terms like ‘Diversity’, ‘Progressive’, and ‘Choice’ are redefined in their usual meanings as a signpost designating a safe haven of socially acceptable thought. The effect of technology in offering global travel and communication has brought the various rival elites that control the respective societies that inhabit this planet to the conclusion that they must conspire secretly together to continue the illusion of fractious insoluble relations with each other so as to remain in control and not be displaced by the respective populations they currently have complete influence over. The hegemony of small elites is only possible in an inflexible pyramidal hierarchy that customarily deceives its citizens into thinking that exact opposites of perceptible reality are true. What appears to be occurring in terms of events and opinions on the popular stage are in fact carefully manufactured by the hegemony. The current most preferred flavor of this mentality touted is called Socialism which infers an interchange of basic animal security for taking away the exercise of individual freedom of choice. This IS Tyranny! The term Fascism is simply the a description of the orchestration of faux consensus by this same hegemony securely behind Socialism or what it was formerly referred to as, Communism.

Duly White-Washed Manufactured Fears

FIRST GUY – “Remember the guy in the 60’s carrying the sign, “The End Is Near?” Well, I’m not laughing at him anymore!”

SECOND GUY – “I saw that same guy on the street corner with a sign that said the same thing a few years ago!”

THIRD GUY – “. . . he wasn’t laughing anymore either!”

“One’s own laughter abruptly peels forth from the starting blocks uncontrollably yet empty of mirth. What’s really funny these days without the metallic tang of bitter irony between one’s teeth like a horse’s bit anymore?”

It’s a filthy little life to those that know no respect. Animals on two legs! Don’t take any of them for granted! They will come after you with a ragged vengeance. Is this place a prison or can I expect to be entertained? Who gets to play the sole hub of the universe at this point in the story? What kind of miller’s tale has a beginning and an end but demands that you BYOB your own recitation of the middle? Strange this ritual gulf between men and women? What should be ridiculously simple ends up quite complex beyond solution. I saw a three story building that was entirely painted DayGlo orange that presented quite an eyesore. It’s patron orange god visible within through the glass front entrance standing plainly visible up to the knee in the atrium. A small crowd of the demonstratively chic admirers scattered haphazardly across the sidewalk playing at being unintended road obstacles; all in hopes of garnering attention from a passersby. The one most invulnerably vulnerable, taking a fright, letting her outward demeanor of eternal placid indifference fall to fear when a particularly aggressive looking male in appearance barged his way through unimpressed by their extravagance. Drole was the pose of the day in terms of the official focus of all their attention; someone screaming out silently in perfect banality. The back of this mannequin’s mind a momentary recollection from out of nowhere of a ‘bridge to nowhere‘.

A lingering artifact from a century or more before dating from another era of the iron horse. A raised up rivet-bound erector set of metal superstructure upon sandstone blocks whose two ends had long ago been truncated by the wheels of progress. It’s remaining corpse left hoisted upon high as if still in the iron grip of celestial pall bearers. The idea of ghostly forms in resistance to the present time a form of vanity. Something to favor in a glimpse of what had always been in the vicinity; a very plausible notion to muse upon. The daily back and forth, and for one short span of twenty seconds, the brief expanse of track between the upper portion of a three story warehouse and another city bound watchtower a couple of hundred feet ahead providing a stillness of contemplation of this marvelous monument still innocuously extent. Hard to believe some dirty-faced humankind toiled away by its wayside in the lengthy interim in-between with a perpetuity of the mundane. Such places hidden in plain visible only offered to those particularly eagle-eyed or abruptly cued by a watchful partner.

Words spoken by absolute strangers given a sense of incontrovertible importance. As if only for the fact that the listener cannot immediately relate to the fact that the communal echo chamber within all is just as clueless to seemingly definitive public conclusions. The many fragments of miniature trapezoids laid across the horizon glimmering like mica chips at dusk; celebrating the decline of the sun in the heavens. It’s jeweled multiplicity constrained by a ruling gravitas enforcing rectilinear proportion of all things square on each of its congealed Terrazzo flakes. It’s glitter laid across the opposite horizon as if spilled. Between reality and laughter, the cotton-like clothing of endless atmosphere is shred then rewoven into other equally misunderstood enigmas.

So, is all this scheming, warring, and ceaseless struggle merely to preserve someone’s gonads? Preservers of the latest ‘true’ faith and belief of this century with the hope that it will become the preferred flavor of the next thousand years? We might as well all whistle Garry Owen and ride off into into the sunset towards the latest form of perdition. It seems to become clear only in one’s elder years that all life is too sweet and precious to squander. We all pick our avatars from the set that relates directly to our own generation, though the result is essentially the same. Factor out the superficiality of appearance and regional custom and find that the central need still remains the same/ To find a pattern that seems to outlast any other. One that might in some way reflect us personally and preserve our personal illusion of life as we know it ever ongoing.

Imagine, if you will take the risk, a dark room far removed from regular civilization filled with beautiful young men and women come of some other rival cult fettered to rows of rough wooden benches; a series of thin electric cables running to and fro from rough attachments upon all the more tender parts to a central generator. Their eyes covered tight by latex bandages and mouths staunched by ball gags. And laid upon each of their the quivering laps below their frenetically heaving breasts a keyboard below their madly typing fingertips. Their progress metered and shockingly corrected in tapping out a story of their own inner dynamics consumed in fearful frenzy frustrations. The raw subtleties of this inescapable dilemma of being lost as just another one in a mass exercise of shared humiliating experience being sought by an overbearing yet invisible communal master. Some mad industrial idea tof a frivolous study the latest psychological nonsense of crowd control or brand preference? Or just another outlet for the overheated boiler of civilized humanity letting off steam from its itchy underbelly? Whatever the propbabale destination or possible use of such demented produce, it would be impossible to say; as much as be able to sort out the possible source for the enacting of such foul dealings? Most likely a CIA prison in Anatolia, or a major motion picture studio’s latest big budget blockbuster in wicked Hollywood!

I sought to find a recurrent place that has haunted my dreams as far back as childhood; and for many years over and over in various forms of relatively the same yet again. A distant place that seems long forgotten but easily discoverable by me; whose innocuous entrance lays somewhere far in back of my newly acquired suite of rooms. Somewhere, perhaps just behind a locked door of a disused corridor otherwise generally unknown commencing to lead one into a aeries of circuitous routes that often exists between walls; and trails down narrow passages who knows where? The route tunneling through those literal earthen bowels of a larger anonymous tremulous psyche. Humanity ever at a distance coming occasionally into brief view within a courtyard far below. Side spaces and tunnels that are rarely if ever visited by those that have built them. Yet cobbled together as if their is a sense of haphazard logos that explains their ultimate purpose. The danger being that once one commits to the journey then there is no return to the world of mankind.

The latest time offering the beginning of a path in a golden shag carpeted back stairwell leading straight up three flights from behind its entrance of a back bedroom closet door; its summit offering three enclosures before one. One of a window offering the vista of the late morning sunny sky; a closet to on the opposite side containing two forgotten old mink stoles from decades long past; presumably from my own mother’s former wardrobe. And a half open door at the foot of the stairs leading into a vacant apartment just beyond. This series of empty rooms being the place without doubt that would serve as the beginning of another winding nocturnal visit into my own current verion of a personal underworld. A place promising no obtainable final destination beyond perpetual wandering alone; where all the earthly dangers of the forbidden are most likely to hold sway and prevail.

Those overly-trumpeted hidden fears of women, once human but now de-trained into savage beasts whose only language still understandable come from the raw end of a leather whip’s well salted scourge. The seat of perceived victim-hood where their id is retaught to move about on all fours dressed only in their own sweat with mouths perpetually salivating to potentially take in anything offered from roadside offal to a pulsating rubber cocks. Men standing frozen in manly poses within their midst flashing whips and business suits pretending to be competent masters. But in point of fact flash frozen in their tracks, scared out of their wits, on that point of realizing the fury of these beasts that they have let loose! Impotently demonstrating their foolishness in pathetic mock displays of power learn from birth as schooled in the arms of eternally angry females who will ultimately have their revenge through distancing. Such is the power of industrial duty angst!

That spark of uncontrollable spirit compressed deep within beneath an unwavering weight of commonly manufactured never ending fears.

An Unjustified Deserter!

“World War II and the Holocaust were our fixed reference points from childhood onward. We often talked about the moral imperative, so as not to be confused for ‘good’ Germans. We soon saw ‘American’ and the term ‘racist’ as being akin to that incessant lifelong postwar harangue of endemic German ‘racism’ towards the victim Jews just like we were supposed to.”

I was old. And I was reduced to being ‘freelance’ after a long inconsequential career of much greater eventual expectations of making a regular monthly income reliably up to my last breath. It was a rattletrap occupation to begin with; taking ideas of people and culling them of all the extraneous vain-glorious drivel; so that whatever they were pushing would resemble the better half of what was already out their clogging up people’s consciousnesses. This time I had a short term low paying affair supplicating two female ‘geniuses’ by drafting a text heavy affair that had two illustrations buried in their parenthetical thoughts upon a single page composed of three sections. Needless to say it became a misguided collection of ‘must have‘ thoughts with no clear way of being able to follow the stilted logic of any of it! Something that both my clients insisted on retaining at all costs. It’s sum total looked like amateurish crap! Needless to say my handling of the assembly of this ‘sameness’ served to demonstrate all the wrong way of doing things. “Always give the client what they want!“,  that is if you want to get paid. At least that was my motto these days.

I can’t recall how the trip to the small ad agency came into the picture? Part of me was subconsciously glad that there was another party coming in to hopefully shake them out of their tree. The hallway outside the three room suite of their uptown office was at least five decades past being considered stylish in that current trendy sense of everything contemporary and modern being ‘Jah‘. To my shock the voice of one of my clients was already there behind the door being verbally entranced at breakneck speed by two energetic alpha grade pitchmen. I could only marvel at the intensity and drama their unbounded enthusiasm brought to the dilemma of resolving the crisis.  Overshadowing was my own less than savvy efforts that had brought them here to correct. My embarrassment at being shown up by a well-synchronized tag team that could spout theoretical solutions while also selling hot air at premium prices was only equaled by my own self-disgust. I had obviously outlived my usefulness in terms of this craft.

Yet, without missing a beat I found the head barker had unexpectedly incorporated me into the pitch without missing a beat; as if I had always been part of his firm? Imagine being talked to be a total stranger before what was once your client feeling yourself being displaced at every turn! There is after all the ‘real world‘ where one is generally found to be out of their depth in a league that was, from the start, too well established with career insiders and thus completely impenetrable. The worst of it was that I was soon being taken in by the same buoyant perfume of sharing boundless enthusiasm! One of the less verbose assistants engaged with me in a brief encounter away from the action in a side office where I questioned both sanity and sincerity of this overly theatrical madcap approach. Though she seemed equally at a loss to explain it, she also was enthralled! The two of us now demeaned to committed ‘gofers’.

The client had by now had been spirited away to the other side of downtown. And it was imperative that someone rush over to that other suite to deliver what was to be a effort for their final approval. Events and gas blowing had gone on far too long so there was no time to spare. Back into the hallway and down into the street and into traffic at a breakneck pace. My more youthful nemesis racing just ahead of me on the opposite side of the street. I managed to keep up the pace for a while, but was doomed to fail in the home stretch on account of the relative difference expected in the vitality of youth versus old farts. Joints madly aching past their breaking point I fell behind while he raced out of sight with his final drafts.

“To the victor goes the spoils.” Especially when it’s their racket to begin with!