The Patriarch

The sunrise lit the airport terminal in bright hues of orange and pink as I emerged from the tunnel. At 6:00 a.m. in Segia International, I had not expected to see many people. Segia, while a fairly large and populous city, did not see a lot of movement inward or outward. It had a bad reputation among outsiders, and passports were hard to come by for residents of the city-state. Not that they usually wanted to; Segia was a self-sustaining enclave, providing for pretty much all the needs someone would have, and it had its own social norms and culture that did not usually mesh well with the outside world.

As I glanced around, therefore, I saw very few people out and about, mostly businessmen in suits, carrying briefcases. Some of these had sluts with them as arm-candy, and a smattering of other cunts also walked around the airport terminal. They were scantily clad, miniskirts, crop tops and tight shorts being a common sight, though not necessarily skimpy enough for my tastes. Something I would have to work on. At least they were easy on the eyes; Segia had standards, after all. Large jugs and fat asses were the norm, as well as dolled up, pretty faces.

Therein were the cultural differences I had been referring to earlier. Segia was a small island in the Caribbean, not far from Florida, taken up almost entirely by the city of the same name. Originally it was a British colony, and a major trade center for its prime location as a stop for merchants. It had attracted a population by offering clemency and a new start for various criminals and unsavory types, both in the Old World and in America. It had gained its independence early in the nineteenth century. Corruption in the government had ensured that it suffered a myriad of issues, both social and economic, and relative lawlessness persisted.

In 1946, one of the most powerful mafia bosses of the United States, Armand Segeste, had seen an opportunity in the island to form his own enclave, independent from outside powers. He basically bought the nation outright, renaming it to Segia from its old name of New Manchester. The mayor was still technically in charge, but everyone knew it was in name only. Armand had the mayor in his pocket, as well as the city council and every level of the government. Armand immediately started reconfiguring the city to his worldview. Taxes were slashed to almost nothing, all manner of gambling and illicit substances were legalized, and Segia was cemented as a haven for, shall we say, frowned upon activities. In this way, a great deal of dark money was brought through the city increasing its prosperity a hundred fold. And naturally, all of the island’s businesses were controlled by Segeste.

Several other laws of a different nature were also passed. For another aspect of Armand’s worldview was his many opinions about the place of women; that is, dumb sex objects who should serve men, and were only worth as much as their holes. To this end, prostitution was legalized, as well as slavery for adult women. Armand used a combination of and bribery to get all of the world’s powerful nations to ignore this, allowing him to rule his own personal kingdom of sin and debauchery. He also set up boarding schools to ensure that children would be kept out of sight and educated in the order of things in the country until they were 18, and set about culling the island of all but the most beautiful of women, as well as importing more from all over the world. He also introduced a special compound into all of the island’s food and water that his scientists had developed, which increased hormone production in women to make certain assets grow larger, as well as making future girls being born more beautiful, and to make women generally more tractable and submissive.

Armand had his own personal harem, of course. He built a massive mansion on the highest hill overlooking the city, and it was occupied by him, his army of servants and bodyguards, and 43 wives, mistresses, and slaves. He fucked all of them constantly and got them pregnant frequently, but another he used ensured that only his oldest would be a son, an heir to carry on his legacy. All the others were daughters, no other sons to compete over inheritance. These daughters, of which he had too many to count, were not spared from his views of the place of women. They were trained like any other woman on the island, and sold off to other powerful men to guarantee various business deals and alliances. He even sampled a few himself when they were old enough.

When Armand Segeste finally died in 1967, with a slut sucking his cock and two more holding their tits to his face, his son Farses was well prepared to succeed him. Farses had little trouble taking the reins of power in the city, as his father had groomed him for it all his life. Farses built his own harem, somewhat smaller than Armand’s. Under him, the city didn’t grow like it had under his father, but it remained prosperous enough. He was less inclined to have children than his father, only starting later in life. He ended up fathering six children; 5 daughters and a son, his heir. But Farses was over eighty now, and his son had been called back from his various travels to begin taking over the city. Leonardo Segeste. Me, of course.