From: OneSickPuppy@HotMail.com   
      
   ARMS   
      
   By Anonymous   
      
      
      
      
      
         Carl Campbell sipped his drink while he watched his   
   daughters splash around in the pool. Across the table from him   
   sat his wife of 15 years. Sarah had just turned thirty-five   
   but could easily pass for her early twenties. She was dressed   
   in a slim bikini that hugged her athletic curves in all the   
   right places. Her apparel was hardly appropriate for a woman   
   in the Middle East, in fact it was illegal. But with the right   
   friends and financial clout, private enclosures within the   
   estates of powerful individuals could be used, and in this   
   land, the rules don't apply to the men in control of the black   
   gold known as oil. Carl's job was to acquire items for these   
   men that, although well within their vast budgets, were   
   difficult to obtain due to the western world's disapproving   
   attention. The most common of these things was high tech   
   weapons, although difficult to obtain these things fetched a   
   highly profitable price from his clients. He also dabbled in   
   another area of supply with only his most preferred clients,   
   this trade item fetched a huge cash return for very little   
   investment. Carl was an exclusive underground white slave   
   trader. His clientele was very select, only a handful of   
   wealthy men who derived a great deal of pleasure from owning a   
   beautiful young American woman. In this part of the world, it   
   was an unwritten rule that a man owned women, they were called   
   his wives. The thrill for these men was lost because a woman   
   born into this culture accepted it as a way of life, unlike an   
   educated American woman, who's beliefs and morals would   
   totally reject the concept of ownership by a man. Carl   
   provided certain powerful men with women that he smuggled from   
   the U.S., most specifically ordered in advance. When he   
   received an order he would research for months to find a   
   likely candidate, usually a woman with little or no family,   
   young, blonde, brunette, or whatever the client was looking   
   for. He usually shipped two to three women per year, mostly   
   teenagers through their early twenties. The oldest he ever   
   sold was thirty-three, his client had met her at a party on   
   one of his trips to the U.S. he was quite taken with her, but   
   she rather forcefully rejected his advances, embarrassing him   
   in front of some of his associates. Carl didn't normally do   
   orders for an individual, he preferred to snare anonymous   
   victims, but his client was very determined, and this   
   translated into a hefty fee for Carl. So he did the job, the   
   last time he saw her she was hanging by her hands from a chain   
   in a small dark room in the bowels of his clients palace, her   
   clothes hanging in shreds around her now naked body. Behind   
   her a soldier was swinging a long leather whip back and forth.   
   His client relaxed in a large chair in front of her as the   
   whip connected with her back and the screaming started. Carl   
   heard the screams fade as he worked his way up and out of the   
   palace. The youngest woman he ever sold was a girl of about   
   twelve, a homeless runaway he had picked up from a bus   
   station. Once she was cleaned up and prepared she was very   
   pretty, this one almost caused him some difficulty, as his own   
   youngest was almost the same age. But his client was specific   
   about the age and Carl fell back on his rule that this was   
   business and the girl was merchandise and, unlike his own   
   daughters whom he loved dearly, she meant nothing to him but   
   a profit  margin.   
      
         Carl turned from his wife to watch his daughters again.   
   Sarah knew nothing of his real work, of course. She believed   
   him to be in the export business, which was true to a certain   
   extent. He normally didn't bring his family on business   
   excursions, but the offer by his client of the use of the   
   palace facilities was too tempting to pass up. He suspected   
   that the free working vacation for him and his family was a   
   softening-up ploy in order to get a better deal for the next   
   arms shipment, necessary to counteract new weapons acquired by   
   his clients' main enemy. Carl was aware of this because, in   
   fact, he had been the supplier of those new enemy weapons.   
   Playing both sides off one another was risky but Carl was very   
   careful that no connection could be made between him and his   
   other client.   
      
         He admired his daughters as they took turns diving into   
   the pool. Stephanie was almost sixteen and turning into a   
   gorgeous young woman. Carl often caught himself admiring her   
   well developed body, she had her mothers' chestnut brown hair   
   but wore it long, she also had her mothers' blue eyes. his   
   other daughter, Beth, had just turned eleven and took after   
   Carls' side of the family, with big green eyes and long red   
   hair. He could see the beginnings of budding breasts   
   underneath  her pink one piece bathing suit. He often found   
   himself thinking sexual thoughts when watching his daughters   
   but in spite of his amoral stance toward the women and girls   
   he sold into slavery, his wife and daughters were his greatest   
   joy and he hoped to retire comfortably soon and enjoy his   
   family with no worries for the rest of his life.   
      
         His reverie was interrupted by a servant delivering a   
   message, the Prince, his client, was ready for their meeting.   
      
         "I'll be back later hon, these things usually run on", he   
   said as he rose. "Say goodnight to the girls for me."   
      
         He kissed his wife and walked into the palace.   
      
         Carl was led to an audience chamber laden with silk   
   tapestries and large, colourful cushions placed behind low   
   tables. This was the Prince's idea of a conference room. Most   
   of the Prince's business meetings ran long and late, usually   
   finishing with some perverse entertainment involving one or   
   more of the Prince's pleasure slaves, some of whom Carl had   
   sold to the Prince. Prince Ashir entered with robes flowing   
   and, after the usual ceremony, proceeded with the meeting. The   
   meeting went as usual, the Prince was very long-winded and   
   given to impromptu speeches whenever the mood took him. Carl   
   noted that Ashir was in rare form, rambling on at several   
   points about trust and loyalty between business partners. Carl   
   was getting worried that maybe the Prince had learned about   
   certain other business deals, but things winded up late in the   
   evening and a deal was struck. The Prince clapped his hands   
   and servants cleared the papers from the tables. More servants   
   swept into the room with large, covered boards. A board was   
   placed in front of each man at the table. Carl looked at the   
   object set in front of him, the board was about three feet   
   wide by four feet long and was draped with a large cloth made   
   of silk. Whatever was under the cloth was fairly big, Carl   
   assumed from the smell that it was dinner, but he wasn't sure   
   he was hungry enough for whatever filled up such a large   
   plate.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)