The Sharpened Pencil

Kenneth Rickey was a small boy, but he used everything about him to control those around him.

I studied human deviation in college, and of course had talked to abnormal people before I met Ken. He didn’t seem to care what he had to do to get his way, and the scary thing was he did carry out his threats. He was full of terrible threats.

I had no knowledge of Kenneth Rickey before I got the call from Washington D.C. that a child from Levy County had a perfect score on the 12-year-old test.  That was a very rare occurence, and didn’t even happen every year in the whole United States. 

As his counselor at school i was supposed to help him understand the government program.

In our society belonging to someone else was the normal thing.  Not every slave had a brand on her hand, or a metal collar around her neck.  In Chiefland and over in Cedar Key there is more of brands, and special outfits to point out the institution of slavery, but in general there are a multitude of diverse contracts. Every agreement is a level of enslavement.  If a man can’t pay his rent,  his landlord might take his whole pay for a year and then release him,  or require his daughter to marry him when she’s of age.

Contracts are binding and may be like state prison sentences.  A woman who steals from a store may contract to do labor at the store for 5 years, or face criminal charges with the sheriff.

Of course there are farm indentures (which is often brutal), and city slavery which could be just a restrictive job.  I know of a local case where a metal worker sold his son, or a contract, for 2 years.  The boy was sixteen and had passed the test.  Well the boy was put to work he hated,  and didn’t like what his father did.  The contract said he would be released at age 18, but during the 1st year he ran away twice.   His father brought him back each time.   The contract specified that his owner could extend the contract for any infraction.

It was to the owners benefit to never release the slave, and that’s what happened.  The money was a very small amount, less than 1o credits (the cost of a good man’s suit in Gainesville).  Once a person is someone’s slave, then they can’t sue in court, they are stuck, maybe for life.

There were about as many different contracts or indentures as people.  The reason for no direct taxes, property taxes or sales taxes was the 16-year-old tax  With that one thing about one-third of all school children were tested out as slaves at age 16.  Of course richer children had more help and encouragement at home and tended to make better grades on the test than not as prosperous ones.

Someone had determined, many years before, at the beginning of the Slavery Test that if kids have many chances to pass a test, over 5 full years, and know that failure to pass will mean they are sold as animals, well they will work hand to pass.

Society wins because slaves are probably most valuable at age 16.  The system works well and now works in many countries,  instead of taxing people.  Polls always have shown that people would rather give up a few stupid kids than pay taxes.  When they pay certain high levels of taxes for their businesses, they get a coupon and can go down to the Placement Center and pick out a choice boy or girl first.  So any tax on business is rewarded with choice slaves.

Because slaves do all the hard, heavy work, free people can think, invent, paint or think.

I became Kenneth Rickey’s volunteer slave because of fear (his threats) and lust (my repressed sexual urges).

He read me like a road map and then scared me badly with his threats.  I’ve read about slave psychology but Kenneth knew how to make me his slave.  He used just enough force, and the right threats, the ones I couldn’t defend well against.  In my office he scared me enough to get me on my knees and then slapped my face and pulled my hair.

If I could have just gotten away from him at school the spell would have been broken and I could have been free again, but he kept me scared and on my knees.  My clothes he used like weapons.  I couldn’t call for help when part of my clothes were off, and others were in disarray.  I was half-dressed until I went to my car.

Marcia the school secretary often checked me out of school without me going to the principal’s office.  He seemed to know that and ordered me to call and check out.  That was after he terrorized me for hours.

His weapon was a sharpened pencil.  I was not allowed to scream when he stuck me with the pencil, he stuck it in my feet.  I wrote out my slave indenture on the floor of my office.  At the time i handed him the document he had thrown my shoes in the trash can, had my panties in his pocket and had me crying on the floor as he went inside my pocket-book and stuffed in his pockets anything he could use, like my bank book, checkbook and credit notes.

So how could a little 12-year-old boy make me drive my car to his family farm-house in rural Levy County?  He said, “Now Miss Priscilla your my big slave.  I have the written contract in my pocket with you panties.

We will walk out to your car and get in slowly, no fast moves or I will stab you with my pencil.  So far I’ve only stuck your feet a little.  During you slave training you will be on your knees or stomach much more than your feet.

Out in public i don’t intend to be embarrassed by an out of control slave.  If you disobey me in public I may stab you in the leg or stomach.”

I’m normally a big talker, but he sat right next to me in the car and had his hand on my leg as I drove him home.  He had three sharpened pencils in his top shirt pocket.  The only words I dared to utter during the trip home were, “Yes master.”  I don’t know how many times I said that.

He told me that his father had 15 slave men on his farm and one Red Caste manager.  The manager and his family were slaves and there were 3 slave women who worked in his house for his mother.  The slave women were, ‘sluts’ in the barn at night for the slaves who weren’t altered.

When we got to his house i parked and he said, “Inside get on your knees and lick my mother’s shoes.”  He pinched my breast, to help me remember that order, I guess.  My bra had been removed at school and put in the trash with my shoes.

“Walk behind me slave,”  he said, “bowing as long as you can.  Be tame around my mother or be strapped all night.”

His mother was small, 5 feet at most, she didn’t seem surprised by my presence.  I licked her brown sandals, but she said to him, “Why didn’t you telll someone you were not riding the bus Ken?  They looked all around for you before they left school.”

I was afraid to say anything, but Ken said, “She’s a volunteer slave and I’ve spent all day training her.”

“What was she at school?  One of the janitors?”

“No, her clothes are messed up because of the training, she was the school counselor, named Priscilla.”

“You know son that without a paper saying their slaves they can just walk away and then you must go find them, and force them to sign.”

“She signed,”  he pulled out my panties and the paper.

She read the paper and said, “She looks in good shape to be newly enslaved.  You know your father often cuts off a slave toe.  It gets their attention.

All I see on your slave son is a bruised face, of course maybe you burned her or cut her somewhere else.”

“I stuck her feet with a pencil.”

“That’s good, you father will be prouder of your first enslaved woman than that high-test score you made.”

Contact the author at: rcates@cox,net    fax at: 1-352-629-1573