Dream: The Slavery Option

In this dream I was a middle eastern looking man. No particular country or time period, that I can remember.
I was heavy set, but powerful looking. I was the head of a deeply rooted, powerful illegal business operation that exported weapons and dangerous chemicals between countries. I was a very wealthy man, and a dangerous man to cross. I had connections everywhere, and been indirectly responsible for more than one political assassination.

I had two daughters, Shaia and Nasreen. They were both heart-breakingly beautiful, five years apart in age. Their mother had been killed a long time ago, soon after the birth of little Shaia. I loved them both, but I could bear to look at them only every few days, because they reminded me so much of their mother.

When Nasreen, the eldest was fifteen, I sold her to a group of extremists in exchange for Nuclear weapons. It was an important trade, one that would made me the richest of all underground weapons traders. Nasreen was forced into sexual slavery.

There were two kinds of pleasure slaves. The higher class slaves who were basically well treated, and the lower slaves -for whom anything goes. The lower slaves were blinded with hot coals, and were known by the purple blindfolds that they wore. I made sure my daughter was of the higher caste. She was well fed, beautifully clothed, she lived in luxurious places, she was never given drugs, and was only rarely treated with any kind of violence.

My second daughter, Shaia , was now coming of age, and was proving to be even more beautiful than her sister. I vowed that I would keep her in my household, and not sell her.
The extremest to whom I had given Nasreen, came back to me and demanded that I give them Shaia as a second payment for the weapons. They threatened to blind and demote Nasreen if they could not have both of them. I did not give them a response for several weeks -I was too furious to think rationally. I came home one day to a clear threat: a purple blindfold nailed to my front door.

That night, I stood over my sleeping daughter, trying to decide her fate. Shaia was only thirteen years old. I could not bear the idea of my Nasreen blinded into lower slavery. But my beautiful little Shaia was the last reminder I had of my beloved wife.

I woke up before I made my decision. I was really rather disturbed by this dream. Just the fact that I was a oily, middle aged man was bad enough. And then selling my children into sexual slavery and being fine with that decision?? My subconscious worries me sometimes.