‘Pulling Myself Up’ by Ray Cates (Adolphus)

August 18, 2009 fotpress1
Tags: Central Georgia, contracts, desperation, doctor patient relationships, government service jobs, legal choice, modivation, parent controls, picking a mate, rags to riches, signing away your rights, slavery, the army

I was bored in high school, but I went and stayed in school, because getting out of school would mean either going into state service labor, or finding a way to earn your own way. Oh there was the army, but the military in general had a 25% admitted death rate, and the rumor was 50% died. I know of 5 boys from my church who picked army over school and all were dead in a year. Three were not recovered and the families buried empty boxes.

State service labor meant you could be shipped anywhere, and worked like a slave. You got your pay when you got out. It grew out of the Peace Corps hundreds of years before, and most people said, ‘It grew out like a cancer!’

Most service laborers I knew were never seen again, no letters, or phone calls.  Big businesses could hire gangs of workers from the government and put them to any work whatever.  I saw state service laborers working on the roads, and it looked like slave labor.  There were supervisors with whips, and electric prods, it sure looked like slavery and not a very nice slavery.

Everyone knew that slavery was making a comeback in society.  I lived in middle Georgia, and people grumbled about taxes and resented that criminals were locked up, and were not state service laborers, or in the army.

When I was in the 2nd year of high school the papers were full of voluntary slavery writing.  Then it became legal to sign a notorized paper and become someone’s real slave.  Before that there were seemingly real slaves, even people with iron collars on their necks, and slave brands on hands, were really in Georgia still legally free.  That is until the law was changed.  It was not Georgia Assembly made law, but case law in Federal Court that caused our law in Georgia to change.  All of a sudden there were real slaves, and lots of people owned them.  Something that had been rather undercover came out in the open.  I noticed that men and women who picked up the city garbage, who I had always thought of as free, but with a lousy job, began showing up with heavy neck collars on.  Some people walking down the street by themselves in business suits, and dressed up dresses wore someone’s collar.  This all sort of materialized one day.

My father owned his own truck and cleared land.  He made very little, but took all the business that he could get.  He and my mother had six children.  I guess most people would classify us as very poor. I was the oldest and so I got the least.

My clothes weren’t the best, and girls didn’t want to be social with me.  Or at least not the ones I was intrested in.  I asked girls to walk home with them, or visit their house, and got a vast variety of the word, “No”.

Other not so choice girls were always around and found me attractive.  Many of them asked me if they could visit, or meet with me.  Some who asked were pregnant by somebody else.  The usual girl problem with pregency was getting out of school, having the baby, and then signing up for public service.

I was in civics class in 10th grade when the new voluntary slavery law was discussed.  Mr. Martin the teacher said, “If someone volunteers to be your slave you own him, or her for life.  You also own an asset, something that is as valuable as cash credits in your pocket or a house.  Maybe not as valuable as a house, but if you put your slave to work you could make as much as a house was worth over time.

One girl Betty in the class said, “Who would ever want to be a slave?  Well anything could be done with a person when they were in that state of affairs.”  I think every boy in the class was thinking, what they would do with Betty, fifteen (my age) with long blond hair and long slender legs. 

So lunch was after that class, and I kept my peanut butter sandwitch in my locker.  At my locker was a girl from the last class Brenda Faust.  She was standing in front of my locker.  She went to my church, and her parents had a hardware store.  She was kinda rich and rather pretty.  Not anyone I would ask out pretty, but attractive somewhat.  She had large breasts and a big butt.

“Hello Brenda I need to get in my locker.” I said.

“Jerry promise to take your sandwitch and eat with me on the lawn, and I’ll let you get it.”

I thought, ‘God I don’t want to make Brenda Faust pregnent, and her father would make me marry her, and I would have a job in his store, but just fat hips Brenda for a wife.’

“Come on Brenda, just tell me what you want.”

“It’s important Jerry, and it’s about money for you.  I don’t think you’ll want to tell everybody about this.”

“OK”, I said and got my sandwitch, it was enough of a riddle, and went out on the lawn to eat.    The money part got me, I never had any.

I offered her half the peanut butter and bread delight, which was my meal everyday, but she said, “No thanks.”

“So tell me Brenda, what’s the secret?”

“This” she said and pulled a paper out of her notebook that was official looking and at the top said, ‘Lifetime Indenture’ and as I read she sat across from me in a very pretty dress.   It had to cost more than my bicycle, that orange tafta dress.  The paper said, “And to all it is hereby known that Brenda Jean Faust has voluntarly submitted herself to a animal slavery status, and is no longer a citizen or a ‘person’.  She has this day become the sole belonging, chattel of one Jerry Les Fabe, a citizen of New Hope Georgia.’

“This is nice Brenda, but how could I afford you, when I can’t even pay for lunch in the cafeteria?”

“I won’t cost you anything Jerry.  I’ll keep going to school.  I’ll of course give you all my allowance.  It’s ten credits per week.  I’ve saved up 30 credits, here take it.  And you’ll own my car Jerry.”

She handed me all her money, and I stuffed it in my pocket.  I also folded up the indenture paper and put that in my pocket.  I had never had 30 credits at one time in my whole life.

“So I guess I can call you master now?” Brenda said.

“Only when were totally alone.”

“I went ahead and ate my sandwitch while she said, “I can sell things I have in my room, that my parents won’t miss, gifts.  They belong to you Jerry like I do.”  She saw my face light up about the money, and was trying to please me.

“Your parents pay for doctor visits don’t they Brenda?”

“Yes Jerry.”

“So check out this afternoon from school and visit your doctor.  They have a shot where you won’t get pregnant for a year..  Go and get that shot, and then pick me and my bike up, to take home after school?”

“But I’ll miss my classes and maybe lose my ‘A’ average, can’t I go after school?”

“No, I plan to be having sex later today.”

“Don’t say it too loud Jerry, people will think I’m a whore.”

“Drive slowly and take care of my car.”  I told her, and walked her to the office.

I followed her into the office and when she was asked by Mrs Foster, “What do you need to see the doctor about Brenda?”

“Female problems,” she said.

She got her pass and I walked her to my car.  I mever noticed her car before, it was new Zevin.  Not what I would buy, but then I couldn’t imagine having 5000 credits to buy a car with.

“I reached in the car, and squeezed her arm and said, “Brenda remember who  you belong to?”

“This is already better than I imagined master.” she said, and I watched her drive off slowly.

I was all filled with hope and ideas for making money when I went to algebra two, and then in physical education I was more aggressive playing tag football.

After school she was waiting in the parking lot.

“I’ve been here almost an hour,”  she said, as I put my bike in her trunk and got in the passanger side.

“It’s your car, don’t you want to drive it?”  she said.

“Whose at your house?” I asked her.

“This is Wednesday and mother works as a volunteer in chruch kindergarden this afternoon, and also Monday and Friday.”

“Good we can use your room.  There’s no one else there to tell?”

“No Jerry, but we might soil the bedclothes.”

“So wash them.”

Well we went at it, there was a bed, nothing stoping us, and she was desperate to have me.  But it was bad for her.  I think if I had stuck a knife in her nose it would have hurt her less.

We laid there panting after the experience, I didn’t know what to say.  So best to say nothing when you have been such a big failure.  Finally she said, “I can’t understand it.  I’ve heard my mother and father doing it, and they seem to have fun.  I’ve watched lots of movies — it looked like the best fun.

There was another long pause and she said, “I’ve dreamed about you Jerry since I first saw you in church.  Your male equiptment seems nice and big, but big may not be so nice.  I never thought anything could be so painful.  Why did you keep doing it, when I told you it hurt?”

“Well the others were not virgins, and they weren’t slaves.  You were the best yet, I liked your fight.”

“Oh god, what could you like about my screaming and struggling?”

“I don’t know — why do people like the fish with the best fight before it’s landed in the boat?  I’ve seen some movies, and it did seem much tamer than our bout, but I liked it, and your my slave.”

“God maybe there’s something really wrong with me Jerry.  Maybe it’s a growth or tumor inside me.  Can I go to my woman doctor again tomorrow and see what’s wrong?”

“Sure we’ll both go after school.”

“But what if she tells my parents I have a boyfriend who broke my hymen?”

“It’s confidential, remind her she can’t tell.  Doctor client privilege.  I’ll let her look and see if you have cancer, if not we’ll just keep having fun.”

Having a slave girl changed my life dramatically, Brenda didn’t have cancer, but only some harmless tumors which caused her to have ‘Painful intercourse’, the doctor said. Also  Dr. Marjory said, “I can remove them, it is an easy operation.”

“I will have to talk to my parents.”  Brenda said, “Sometime or other, but now I don’t want them to know I’ve had sex”.  Brenda said exactly what I had told her to say.

At first Brenda thought she had used slavery to buy herself a boyfriend.  I was not the only poor boy in school, she could have chosen lots of others, but she picked me.  I liked sex with her, and she hated it, but she had no choice, that was the greatest thing about legal slavery.

The author Ray Cates can be contacted by writing: rcates2@cox.net

You can fax me at: 1-352-629-1573

Mailing address: 121 NE 13th Ave. Ocala, Florida 34470

 

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