Prologue

Well, it had to happen sometime.

For decades, sci fi writers have warned us that Earth was being circled by planets where the warrior fought with swords, spears, arrows and other weapons that became obsolete around the time of the First Crusade. Still, their inhabitants seemed to have no concerns about pissing off a world that was armed to the teeth with new-kew-lar weapons.

They did it in the most insulting possible way--by abducting Earthwomen, who were soon spanked, switched and strapped into happy submission as sex slaves. Their alien masters assured themselves they could get away with it, because the Earthmen, especially Americans, were so weak and emasculated.

Others had made the same mistake before. In particular, the inhabitants of the planet Arkan had reckoned without one Earthling who was as mean and crazy as his famous (or infamous) ancestor.

As the galaxy soon came to realize, this second General Mansher was one Earthman around with whom you did not fuck.

And if any slave girl failed to be properly grateful—well, he and his men soon showed her that they could spank pretty hard themselves.

This story starts (as most of them do) with a book. Several books, actually, all strictly forbidden on Arkan. One was called “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” And one girl who dared to read it became dedicated to stamping out slavery. She was more determined than ever after she was enslaved herself, and by a master who (against her best intentions) soon spanked his way into her heart.

Hey, they didn’t call slavery a Peculiar Institution for nothing. On the planet Arkan, it was very peculiar indeed.



Chapter One:

It was raining hard on Rich Mount, and Harriet Abrahams' daughter was soaked to the skin as she stood on the street corner, fighting alone against evil. Her shoulder-length brown braids, which had seemed such a sensible style before, were now acting as drainpipes. They directed the downpour through her white lace collar, onto her neck and thence down her back.

She was fighting the good (if solitary) fight by handing out anti-slavery pamphlets, in direct defiance of the planet’s most basic law. Several people felt sorry enough for her to accept one from her outstretched hand, with its badly bitten fingernails, only to throw the printed sheet angrily into the mud after one glance.

The few who kept it did so because, judging by their expressions, they were so aroused by the illustration. Showing a naked kneeling woman gazing sadly at the chains on her upheld wrists, it demanded, “Am I not a woman, who could be your sister?”

“I wish she were my woman!” was the typical response from the male passers-by. On that basis, they pulled the pamphlets from her hand, before they went off leering at the drawing. Obviously, these men were getting the wrong message.

Rather resentfully, she wondered why she was standing out there all alone, trying to abolish slavery single-handed. Where were the other five members of the Ladies’ Anti-Slavery League?

Where they were, of course, was home in their warm beds. It was one thing to attend the weekly meetings, where the agenda called for 1) reading the minutes, 2) planning the bake sale, 3) passing the resolution to abolish slavery throughout the planet within five years, 4) exchanging box lunches, 5) listening to musical entertainment and 6) adjourning. It was quite another thing to actually break the law by openly promoting the abolition of slavery, thus risking their own enslavement.

The day before yesterday, she had announced that making resolutions was not enough and it was time for more direct action. The others had agreed in principal, but when they had all gone home she saw that hers was the only name on the sign-up list for the pamphlet distribution. She would just have to go it alone until the others felt shamed into joining her—which, she realized, could take a very long time.

Even if they all signed up, she knew how absurd it was to think of six women changing the laws, on a planet of 200,000.

While this capital city was the largest on Arkan, it was only one of many, each inspired by a slave culture from Old Earth—or, speaking more precisely, by old books and movies about it. Hence, all roads led to Roma Nova, Ny Vinland, Arabey Jadid, and every other slave state with a “new” added to its name. In a planet based on slavery, every region and climate could find just the right way to follow the Natural Law.

Their problem was, she realized, there was no right way, because slavery did not come from nature, it had been born in Hell. And her problem was, almost everyone else on the planet was sure that she was wrong.

But “one person in the right is a majority,” as the philosopher had said, in one of those forbidden books that her father had always kept hidden away. Knowing his anti-slavery sentiments, she was still surprised to learn that he had bequeathed her his collection. At the same time, he had left her an income from his investments—which, as he freely admitted, came from slave farms and factories, like almost every other Gentleman’s income in this world.

Smuggled from Old Earth, where the laws were quite different, these novels were pretty shocking, even to a hardened abolitionist like her. Her father had left her “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” where Harriet Beecher Stowe had attacked slavery by weeping over its evils and even “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” where Mark Twain had laughed at it, thus launching an even more dangerous assault.

Thanks largely to their baneful influence, as the Arkanians called it, the battle against slavery had been won on Old Earth. Even more blame was due to the fierce General Mansher and his ruler, the Dishonest Ape, the Gorilla King (although a few abolitionists like Harriet whispered that he had really been called Honest Abe).

Their victory had eventually forced the first Arkanians to migrate in their starships to this new world, which had beckoned them with climates like the ones they had left behind. Here, the fight against slavery was apparently just beginning, led by six young women, including herself. If it ended here, as it had on Old Earth, with 600,000 warriors dead…well, as Harriet often told herself, you couldn’t make an omelet without breaking skulls.

And slaveowners’ skulls deserved to be broken, she felt smugly sure. At first slavery had been strictly consensual here, as every school child was taught. Men and women together had settled Arkan, so they would be free to follow the natural law of female bondage.

And not a moment to soon, as had they assured each other. With slavery outlawed throughout Old Earth, and the women striding towards equality, the men were now too weak and emasculated to even argue in favor of the natural law, let alone follow it.

With this reassurance, the Arkanian slave traders had thought nothing of abducting Old Earth women, when they could not make up their quotas from the local supplies. Harriet’s own grandmother had been brought here from Earth that way.

The merchants hardly even worried about the fact that they themselves were armed with swords, spears, arrows and the occasional rifle or revolver, while Old Earth was bristling with new-kew-lar weapons, which could, by all accounts, reduce the towering mountains of Ny Vinland to powder in about three minutes flat.

The Earthmen were still too weak to use them, which was proof positive that they had broken the natural law all to smash. So slavers had been plying their trade without disturbance, even though the Earthmen must have started suspecting that something was amiss, when beauty pageants had to be cancelled because all of the contestants had suddenly vanished, after flying saucers had been spotted flying over their headquarter hotels.

In the face of such overwhelming evidence for the natural law, who was going to argue that the vast majority of Arkanians were wrong to follow it?

Harriet Abrahamsdaughter, that’s who, she thought defiantly, lifting her chin up to the rain. She had learned to do it from her father and his mother, whose incredibly indulgent master had pretended not to know what she was teaching his son, even when she had called his child Abraham: the true name of the Gorilla King. Even worse, Abraham had named his daughter after the woman who had written the most strictly forbidden book of all. She and her father and grandmother had all been right, when almost everyone else had been wrong.

One person in the right was a majority. It didn’t matter that one person was very wet, very chilly and starting to cough and sneeze. Far worse, her precious supply of pamphlets was starting to get soggy too, as the rain beat down on its clear plastic covering.

She was about to call it a night—especially since she had been standing there for three hours—when two patrollers rode around the corner and stopped beside her. “Get in,” said the taller abruptly. There was no need to ask him what the charges were: She was clutching the evidence, in a clear plastic bag. He pulled it from her unresisting fingers, to be used at her trial.

With little doubt of what the verdict would be, she fought hard against her panic. Where one is a slave we are all slaves, she sternly reminded herself. At the same time, she knew that, even on a much drier evening, she would have been in over her 23-year-old head. It did not raise her spirits to hear the patroller mutter, “Dirty Friend bitch!”

“I am not a Friend,” she retorted, staring straight up at him. “I do not steal slaves. But I am”—her courage fled for a moment, but she dragged it back in time to firmly say—“an abolitionist!”

“So you want to abolish slavery?” he sneered. “Well then, soon you’ll be able to tell your fellow slaves all about it. And when you do, your master will spank your bottom redder than any of theirs.”

And while she had almost never been at a loss for words before, now the growing realization of her plight was enough to stun her into silence.

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