Shadow, p.9
Shadow, page 9
part #1 of Jaegers of the Consortium Series
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. I love the theater!” Charity said.
“I think you’ll enjoy this far better than anything you’d see back home,” Ayla said with a wink as she strode quickly out the door.
Charity turned to Lucas. “So, who is this Jake?”
“A Jaeger stationed here that has the hots for her,” he said with a grin. “He actually arrived a couple weeks ago, but then had to go right back out to investigate another Cheyenne attack.”
Charity shuddered. “I’m surprised no one has caught her yet.”
“Jake has tried, believe me. He’s made it his life’s work to bring in the Consortium’s Most Wanted.” Lucas shook his head. “I think that he’d have a better chance bringing the moon down, personally.”
“You don’t think that she can be caught?”
Lucas gave her an even stare. “I know she can’t be caught.” He let that statement hang in the air for a moment, before a high-pitched squeal and laugh came from above. “She sure doesn’t waste any time,” he said with an amused snort.
“Yes,” Charity agreed. She looked up. “Could you, uh, excuse me for a moment while I freshen up?” Lucas nodded and gestured to the door, then sat listening to the sounds coming from overhead.
That night at the theater house, Charity took Lucas’ hand as she stepped out of the carriage into a sea of lights. Flashers from photographers were going off all over the place, nearly blinding her. High society columnists were vying for pics of those attending the evening performance. The scene reminded her of a red carpet affair in such movie towns as Broadway Trenton up in the Corporate States or New Hollywood over in the California Hegemony. “Is it always like this?” she asked, raising her voice for Lucas to hear over the bustling activity.
“Nearly so,” Lucas said, elbows up to guide her through the throng of people crowding the front doors. “Elysium prides itself on their theater, like the old days when New York and Los Angeles weren’t covered in a few hundred feet of water. Anyone wanting to be noticed in the gossip newssheets comes to these things. Come on, Jake and Ayla should be here already. They’re probably waiting inside,” he said as he slipped his arm around her waist.
He wore a high-collared vest with a suit overcoat, all in black, and Charity wore a white corset and matching flowing dress that billowed in her wake. She’d insisted they dress for the occasion, though Lucas had seemed oddly unconcerned about it. Two ushers pulled the big glass doors open as they approached.
The theater was huge, with three stories and extravagantly gothic exterior architecture that was matched by an equally impressive interior. The soft glow of hanging chandeliers hung high within the dome, as well as matching lanterns arrayed along the walls. When they got close, she could see that it was run on the newer electric systems rather than the older gaslight. It truly was a high society event like back home, just with a lot more publicity. Here, the rich and famous talked and laughed, making impromptu deals under the guise of mingling. Gentlemen of all ages wore immaculate three-piece suits, and more than a few had visible swords or beamers hanging off their belts. Ladies wore equally stylish dresses in a myriad of colors. Waiters, ushers, and servants moved all around, attending to guests’ needs. But as they walked up the ramps to the upper-level box seats, Charity started to notice something else. “Oh my….”
Accompanying many of the wealthy patrons were naked slaves, male and female. Their attire ranged from just a single, simple collar, to ornate jewelry and decorations dangling from their hair, necks, arms, thighs, and even intimate places. Charity couldn’t help but stare. How could everyone be so casual about so much nudity?
Lucas’ voice in her ear made her jump. He had a terrible habit of doing that only while she was distracted. “Problem, dear?”
“Oh, uh, no,” Charity stammered out, unable to tear her eyes away from a couple of male slaves with impressive endowments flanking one wealthy businesswoman as she peeled off into her private box for the show. “It’s just, I knew that there were slaves, all around the world, but it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it so… open.”
“Contractual Slavery exists in every country. Why would it be any different here than where you’re from?” Lucas asked.
Charity’s head snapped around. “We do not have slaves in the Theocracy!” she protested.
“Sure you do,” Lucas snorted, “you just call them by different names. ‘Indentured servants,’ ‘involuntary servitude,’ ‘debt-bonded individuals’… ‘arranged marriages’,” he said, giving her a sardonic smile. “The Theocracy is big on dressing up things they don’t like into pretty little wrappings and then pretending it’s something different.” He shrugged. “Whatever helps y’all sleep better at night, I guess. One thing remains the same, though: they all wear collars to denote their status. It’s required by Consortium Law.”
Charity’s eyes widened. She thought about home and her mind wandered back to Esmond and that leather collar of his that he, and the other servants for that matter, was always tugging at, and the lace collars that the maids wore. She thought about all of her friends who’d had arranged marriages, and the lace collars and chokers that they consequently wore. Mother doesn’t wear a collar, but her marriage was arranged. Yet, she still had a basic subservient position to Father. Is it really slavery? It was. It had been in front of her the whole time and she’d never even noticed.
And Charity was in danger of becoming a slave herself.
Her fear soon became anger at the thought of her own parents selling her to someone like Baron Spence. The thought sent chills down her spine, and rage through her veins, galvanizing her desire to stay in Elysium with Lucas.
As they stepped into their box seats, she waved to Ayla, sitting next to a Jaeger she recognized. “Oh! It’s good to see you again, sir Jaeger,” she said, curtsying.
“Please, we’re among friends here, ma’am, you can call me Jake,” the Jaeger said, standing up and giving her a small, formal bow and a tip of his brimmed hat. “It’s good to see you as well. Enjoying your vacation?”
“Yes, yes I am,” Charity replied. She caught Ayla’s and Lucas’ questioning looks and quickly explained how her parents had hired Jake to escort her to Elysium. “Which, I never did get your Jaeger name, Jake,” she said, now eyeing him with curiosity.
“Deliverer, since I always deliver the bad guys to justice.”
Behind him, Charity saw Ayla roll her eyes. "You’re after the pirate Cheyenne now, aren’t you?" Charity asked.
“I investigate all of her attacks, yes. You should see my study; I have years of evidence against her. She will come to justice, m’lady.”
“I hope so. Oh, do you know Jaeger Shadow by any chance?”
Jake sighed and looked to the ceiling in askance. “I swear, the guy brings down a fucking airship, gets a novel made out of a lucky mission, and they think that he’s a god or something.” He shook his head. “They made him head of the damn region, did you know that? Which is a neat bit of work, since no one but the higher-ups actually know who Shadow is. The man’s a Ghost.”
“A Ghost?”
“A special classification of Jaeger,” Lucas explained. “Ghost Jaegers are the eyes and ears of the Consortium, and they’re trained to hide in plain sight.”
“Hide in plain sight?” Charity cocked one eyebrow. “Like a shadow?”
Jake chuckled. “Yes, just like a shadow. Apt name for the big boss, don’t you think?”
Lucas put a hand on Jake’s shoulder and nodded toward Charity as Ayla escorted her through an ornate door that matched the numbers on their tickets. “So, you’re the one who escorted her down here?” he asked as the door closed behind the girls.
Jake raised his hands. “I didn’t know she was yours. Hell, you two weren’t even together yet from what Ayla told me,” he said in a whispered voice.
“Never mind that,” Lucas waved him off. Not as if he had any high ground to stand on, since he’d filled Ayla’s bed in Jake’s absence. “How about a friendly wager? I’ve got five gold that says I can make Charity come before you can get Ayla off.”
Jake feigned an offensive look. “My good sir, are you implying that such a fine, upstanding, and virtuous citizen such as a Jaeger would be taken in by such pleasures of the flesh and the pursuit of gambling?”
Lucas crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at him.
Jake snorted. “Make it ten gold and you’ve got a bet.”
“My kind of betting gentleman,” Lucas said, extending his hand.
Jake shook it, and together they walked through the privacy door separating the upper level box seats from the access hall. On the balcony, they found two red velvet couches, long enough for one or two people to recline intimately, yet small enough to be cozy if they were seated upright. The girls were already sitting and talking, one on each couch. With a pull of a heavy golden cord at the far ends of the couch, a thick privacy curtain would drop between the couches for more intimate viewing of the show.
Jake moved right, sitting beside Ayla, while Lucas took his place beside Charity.
“What were you two talking about?” Charity asked, turning toward him as he settled down.
Lucas grinned. “We determined that we should finally have a dual over sleeping arrangements at the mansion and meet with water pistols at dawn,” he said in mock seriousness, draping his arm over Charity’s shoulders.
Jake nodded. “Yeah, it’s a whole lot more fun and no one gets killed.”
“Ugh, you two are intolerable when you’re together, you know that?” Ayla rolled her eyes.
“You love us, anyway.” Lucas mimed blowing kisses at them. Charity gave him a polite, yet patronizing, smile, but Ayla flipped him the middle finger right before Jake reached to pull the privacy curtain down between them, separating the private box into two sections. Moments later, Charity heard Ayla’s laughter on the other side.
Charity leaned in to Lucas, still curious about the slaves that were so openly displayed. “You said all slaves had to wear collars by law—why is that?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know, considering your degree in Historical Literature,” Lucas said with a teasing grin.
“I mean, I know of them. I just don’t know specifics about them. They don’t exactly teach that sort of thing to ladies of the aristocracy in Dixie.”
“And yet, they’re in a hurry to sell you into that status regardless.” Lucas drew her close. He reached for a small pair of telescoping glasses in his pocket and handed them to her, pointing to a box far across the expanse of the theater. “Take those two you noticed earlier. They’re both slaves, but they wear different collars; one metal and one of leather.”
“Umm, yes,” Charity said as she adjusted the glasses. She felt her cheeks grow hot from seeing the two men again. They were standing rigidly at attention, their mistress idly stroking them to hardness while she spoke to someone in the box next to her, laughing.
“The leather collars signify their willing entrance into slavery. They have their contract number burnt or engraved into the back so that anyone can look them up at any given time. Their mistress has to have a copy of their contracts on hand, too, in the event that any representative of the Consortium or any law enforcement asks to review it.”
“Why would anyone willingly enter into slavery? Why wouldn’t they want to be free?” Charity asked, still watching the scene with interest.
“Various reasons; protection for one, or they could be working off a debt. Some are simply submissive, and have given themselves over to someone else’s care. There are people who prefer that kind of life, where things are chosen for them. They find it easier.”
“And the metal collars?” she asked. The slaves in the scene she was observing now each had one hand on either of the woman’s breasts, holding her like a bra, seemingly how the woman would watch the show. Charity collapsed the glasses and handed them back to Lucas.
“Involuntary Slaves; they’re prisoners or inmates,” he said, pocketing the glasses. “They’ve committed a crime and their case number is engraved into the collar. They’re not considered dangerous, and they’ve elected to serve their time as a slave rather than be pressed into hard labor in the prisons. Once they’ve served their time, their case is reviewed at which point, they can elect to transition into Voluntary Slave status or transition back into society, depending on the outcome of the review.”
“How is slavery for the elite considered restitution for their crimes?”
“The elite pay for the use of them. That payment is their restitution.”
“And those who don’t elect to go into Involuntary Slave status?” Charity asked. “Do they go to these breeder farms I’ve heard about?”
“Depends on the nature of the crime, really. Most inmates are tasked to a hard labor chain gang, doing backbreaking, dangerous, and often deadly work. Breeder farms, born out of the need to repopulate after the Great War and Great Cataclysm decimated humanity’s numbers, serve as both a place of reward for good behavior as well as a place of punishment. Inmates could be sent there to have some time with an inmate of their choice as a reward, or maybe to provide some wealthy person a sperm donation or serve as a surrogate, depending on their gender, of course, at which point they might be allowed to enter In-Slave status with said nobleman or woman. Women, though—and unfortunately almost always women—are also sent there as punishment. At the breeder farms it’s… well they aren’t good places, generally speaking, if you’re a woman. A lot of noblemen treat the farms like brothels.”
Charity chewed on her lower lip as she mulled this over. “But how—”
“Shhh.” Lucas held a hand up. “I can explain more later if you want, my dear,” he said, as the lights in the theater flickered twice and then slowly dimmed. “Right now, it’s time to relax and enjoy the show.”
“Just what are we watching tonight?” Charity asked, turning her attention to the stage below. In all of the rush, she’d forgotten to ask. “What kind of a play is this?”
“The Sleeping Beauty,” Lucas said, sliding closer to her.
Charity gave him a sour look. “You brought me here to watch a new take on an old fairy tale?”
Lucas gave her a lopsided grin and nodded down to the stage as the heavy maroon curtains parted and the house lights went out. “I seriously doubt the old fairy tale was anything like this.”
“What are you talking abo-oh!” Charity exclaimed when the curtains opened to the dimly lit stage. Up high on a stage tower, Beauty lay sleeping on the bed, bare as the day she was born.
Moments later, a young prince in royal garb climbed up through her tower window. He rolled out and knelt beside Beauty’s bed. “Ah, fair Beauty,” he said with a grin on his face while he trailed a hand up her leg. “I have beaten all trials set before me by the curse and can now claim you as my own as the prophecy has foretold. I shall take you back to my kingdom to be my princess.” His hand continued traveling up her body to grope an ample breast, giving it a squeeze, while his mouth covered hers in what was probably the most intimate onstage kiss that Charity had ever seen.
And probably the most erotic.
Beauty’s eyes opened at once as the stage lights came up to full, brightening the whole area. Charity could see other members of the cast in the castle below the tower now waking up and realizing that Beauty’s curse had been broken. The king and queen kissed passionately while members of the court cheered silently as Beauty and the Prince’s scene above continued on.
“Who are you?” Beauty demanded, trying to shy away from him.
Prince’s hand was on the back of her neck, keeping her in place. “I am the one who owns you now,” he said with a leer. “I have found you, I have broken the curse, and by rights you belong to me now by ancient law.”
Something inside of Charity shuddered at the mention of ancient law. She remembered that Lucas and Ayla had both mentioned at one dinner that the laws of her own country were old, outdated, and in all ways—ancient.
Beauty was confused. “That’s not what the old witch said when I was cursed.”
Prince laughed. “Things change in a hundred years. Everything that your family owns now belongs to me. It was a bargain reached upon by all your neighboring countries long ago when the curse first befell your land. Now, do you submit to me? Or do I go back and tell my parents to inform the rest of the kingdoms to prepare for war over your defunct lands?” Prince’s hand traveled back down her body to cup her pussy. “Believe me when I say that I’ll be far more preferable than some of the others. I will make you my princess, and in time, my queen. Others would simply make you their slave. Now what is it going to be, princess?”
“I-I have no choice it seems, my prince,” Beauty said, reluctantly turning to face him.
Smiling broadly, Prince nudged her legs apart and mounted her. A moment later, his hard cock was bared for all to see, as he roughly entered her. Keeping his hand on her collarbone right below the neck, he proceeded to pound her into full submission while the servants below started knocking on the door outside, demanding entrance.
Charity had lost all interest in the developing plot as she felt Lucas’ hand travel from her thigh down to her sex. She was too engrossed in the Prince and Beauty getting it on down on the stage to pay attention to any more of the dialogue.
“Enjoying the show, I take it?” Lucas’ voice whispered into her ear. Not trusting her voice to be solid, all she managed was a slight nod. Lucas smiled warmly at her. “Here, let’s make it even more enjoyable.”
Charity was struck with confusion as Lucas guided her up and onto his lap. As her bottom settled against him, she could feel his desire was already strong. Lucas’ cock strained against the inside of his trousers, and she felt his hands, now on her hips, slide forward across her thighs. She suddenly remembered the naked mistress in the box seats on the opposite end of the auditorium and felt panic rise inside of her. “No, Lucas, I can’t!” she said quickly in a hushed voice. “Not here. I can’t get naked in public like these other people.”
